YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
Northwest Americana
In Memoriam
WINLOCK W. MILLER, Jr., '28

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SELECT

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PRACTICAL WRITINGS

RICHARD BAXTER,

LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.

BY LEONARD BACON,
FASTOK CF THE FIRST CHCRCH^IN NEW-HAT»lf.
/

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOLUME I.

NEW-HAVEN:
PUBLISHED BV DURRIE & PECK.
1831.

[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, by Durrie & Peck,
in the Clerk's office, ofthe District Court of Connecticut.]

PRINTED BY BALDWIN AND TREADWAY.

PREFACE.

In making the following selections, I have, for ob
vious reasons, omitted those works of this venerated
author which are familiar to the Christian public ;
and have been guided by a desire to provide a book
suited to the wants of private Christians, and of
Christian families. Had it been my object to afford
the theological scholar the means of judging respect
ing Baxter's opinions and his modes of reasoning on
disputed subjects in divinity, these two volumes would
have been made up of very different materials.
The writings of Baxter are distinguished, even
above those of his cotemporaries, by the peculiarities
of the man and of the age in which he lived. Those
only who know what the author was, what were the
vicissitudes through which he passed, what were the
changes and commotions of the times in which he liv
ed, and what were the men with whom he had to do, —
can enter fully into the spirit of his writings. It is
simply with a view of helping the unlearned reader to
a knowledge of the man and of the age, that the Life
of Baxter has been prefixed to this selection from his
works. Literary men and theologians will find the

PREFACE.

more extensive and labored work of the late Mr.
Orme on the same subject, much better adapted to
their use.
When I began the preparation of these volumes, I
expected to see the end of them much earlier. But
I thank God that while I was studying the writings
and the history of this eminent saint, and was seeking
to imbibe that spirit which made him so successful a
pastor, my studies were interrupted by a signal revi
val ofthe work of God among the people of my charge.
Whatever delay has attended the publication, has
been caused by this happy interruption.
Now reader, let these devout and seare"aing trea
tises have that attention which they deserve. Read
to learn what truth is, and to receive the truth in
love ; to learn what duty is, and to do it.
New Haven, Oct. 28, 1831.

CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

THE LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. PAGE.
Part I. From his birth, to the beginning of the civil war in 1641, 9
Part II. From the beginning ofthe war, to the time of his leaving the army, 6G
Part III. From his return to Kidderminster, to the year 1660, 94
Part IV. From the year 1660, to the year.1665, 164
Part V. From the year 1665, to his death, . . . 222
THE RIGHT METHOD FOR A SETTLED PEACE OF CONSCIENCE
AND SPIRITUAL COMFORT.
Epistle Dedicator)-, . . 267
To the Poor in Spirit, . 272
The' Case to be Resolved, . . 283
Direct. I. Discover the cause of your trouble, • 284
Direct. II. Discover well how much of your trouble is from melancholy or
from outward crosses, and apply the remedy accordingly, 286
Direct. HI. Lay first in your understanding sound and deep apprehensions
of God's nature, . . 291
Direct. TV. Get deep apprehensions ofthe gracious nature and office ofthe
Mediator, . . 297
Direct. V. Believe and consider the full sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice and
ransom for all, . 299
Direct. VI. Apprehend the freeness, fullness and universality ofthe law of
grace, or conditional grant of pardon and salvation to all men, 299
Direct. VII. Understand the difference between general grace and special;
and between the posssibility, probability, conditional certainty, and abso-
solute certainty of your salvation ; and so between the seveial degrees of
comfort that these may afford, , 300
Direct. VIII. Understand the nature of saving faith, 307
Direct. IX. Next, perform the condition, by actual believing, 310
Direct. X. Next, review your own believing, and thence gather farther
assurance, 316
Direct. XI. Make use, in trial, of none but infallible signs, 326
Direct. XII. Know that assurance of justification cannot be gathered from
the least degree of saving grace, 345
Direct. XIII. The first time of our receiving or acting saving grace, cannot
ordinarily be known, . 354
Direct. XIV. Know that assurance is not the ordinary lot of true christians,
but only of a few of the strongest, most active, watchful and obedient, 358
Direct. XV. Know that even many ofthe stronger and more'obedient, are
yet unassured of their salvation for want of assurance to'persevere, 366

6 CONTENTS. PAGE.
Direct. XVI. Thare are many grounds to discover a probability of saving
grace when we cannot yet discover a certainty : and you must learn, next
to the comforts of general grace, to receive the comforts of the probability
of special grace, before you expect or are ripe for the comforts of assurance, 368
Direct. XVII. Improve your own and others experiences to strengthen your
probabilities, 372
Direct. XVIII. Know that God hath not commanded you to believe that you
do believe, nor that you are justified, or shall be saved (but only conditionally,)
and therefore your assurance is not a certainty properly of Divine faith, 377
Direct. XIX. Know that those few that do attain to assurance, have it not
constantly, . . ¦ 386
Direct. XX. Never expect so much assurance on earth as shall set you above
all possibility of the loss of heaven, and above all apprehensions of danger, 387
Direct. XXI. Be glad of a settled peace, and look not too much after raptures
and strong feelings of comfort ; and if you have such, expect not a constancy
of them, . . .395
Direct. XXII. Spendmoretime and care about your duty than your comforts,
and to get, and exercise, and increase grace, than to discern the certainty of it, 398
Direct. XXIII. Think not that those doubts and troubles which'are caused by
disobedience will be ever well healedbut by the healing of that disobedience, 404
Direct. XXIV. Contentnot yourself with acheap religiousness, and to serve
God with that which costs you little or nothing ; and take every call to
costly duty or suffering for Christ, as a prize put into your hand for advan
cing your comforts, . . . 437
Direct. XXV. Study the great art of doing good ; and let it be your every day's
contrivance, care and business, how to lay out all your talents to the greatest
advantage, . ... 448
Direct. XXVI. Trouble not your soul with needless scruples, nor make
yourself more work than God has made you, 455
Direct. XXVII. When God hath discovered your sincerity to you, fix it in
your memory'; and leave not your soul open to newapprehensions, except
in case of notable declinings or gross sinning, . 471
Direct. XXVIII. Beware of perplexing misinterpretations of scriptures, pro
vidences, or sermons, . . 477
Direct. XXIX. Distinguish carefully between causes of doubting, and causes
of mere humiliation and amendment, . 485
Direct. XXX. Discern whether your doubts are such as must be cured by the
consideration of general or of special grace; and be sure that, when you lose
the sight of certain evidences, you let not go probabilities; or at the worst,
when you are beaten from both, and judge yourself graceless, yet lose not
the comforts of general grace, . 528
Direct. XXXI. Inallpressingnecessitiestakeadvicefromyourpastors, 533
Direct. XXXII. Understand that the height of a christian life, and the great
est part of your duty, lieth in a loving delight in God and a thankful and
cheerful obedience to his will, 545
MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST ; A Sermon, 557
PASSAGES OF THE LIFE OF MRS. BAKER, 591

THE

LIFE

RICHARD BAXTER,

COMPILED CHIEFLY

FROM HIS OWN NARRATIVE,

BY -LEONARD BACON.

THE LIFE

or

RICHARD BAXTER.

PART FIRST.

The life of Richard Baxter extends over a little more than
three quarters of a century. And perhaps in all the history of
England, no period of the same length can be selected more
abundant in memorable events, or more critical in its bearings on
the cause of true liberty and of pure Christianity, than the seventy-
six years between the birth of Baxter and his death.
The Reformation of the English Church had been begun about
the middle of the preceding century, by a wayward and arbitrary
monarch, to gratify his own passions. Henry VIII. renounced the
supremacy of the pope, only that he might be pope himself within
the limits of his own dominions. He dissolved the monasteries,
because their immense possessions made them worth plundering.
He made the hierarchy independent of Rome, and dependent on
himself, because he would admit no power co-ordinate with that
of the crown. And though in effecting these changes he was un
der the necessity of employing the agency of some true reformers,
who shared in the spirit of Wickliffe and Luther and Calvin, nothing
was farther from his design than the intellectual or moral renovation
ofthe people. ^ ..•••¦
On his death in 1 547, an amiable prince, a boy in his tenth
year, became nominally king of England and head of the English
Vol. 1. 2

10 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
church. During the short reign of Edward VI. the reformation
was carried on with a hearty good will, by the good Cranmer and
his associates in the regency. The bible in the English language,
wflich, having been published by authority in the preceding reign,.
had been soon afterwards, by the same authority, suppressed, was
now again placed by royal proclamation in the parish churches, ,
Worship was performed in a language " understanded of the peo
ple." The liturgy, first translated and established in the second
year of this reign, was revised and purged from some of its imper
fections three years afterwards, and then assumed nearly the form
under which it is now used in the churches of the English Estab^
lishment and in the Episcopal churches of America. The djasign
of the leading reformers in this reign was to carry the work of re
formation as far as the circumstances in which they were placed
would permit. They had their eye on the more perfect refor
mation of foreign churches ; they were in the full confidence of
foreign reformers ; and their aim was to bring back the Church of
England not only to the purity of scriptural doctrine, but to the. sim
plicity of scriptural worship, and the strictness of scriptural disci
pline. In pursuance of this aim, foreign divines of eminence, hearty
disciples of the Swiss reformers, in discipline as well as in doctrine,
were made professors of theology in both the universities, and were
placed in other stations of honor and influence. The progress of
the work was hindered by the influence of a powerful popish party,
including the heir apparent to the throne, many ofthe bishops, the
mass of the clergy, and perhaps the numerical majority of the peo
ple ; and its consummation was defeated by the premature death of
the king in the sixth year of his reign.
The crown and the ecclesiastical supremacy then devolved upon
the "bloody Mary," in the year 1553. This princess inherited a
gloomy temper ; and the circumstances of her early life, while they
inspired her with a bigotted attachment to the religion of Rome,
co-operated with that religion to aggravate all that was unfortunate
in her native disposition. Under her government, a few months
was time enough to undo all that had been done towards a refor
mation in the two preceding reigns. It was found that the king's
supremacy was as able to bring back the old doctrines and the

LIFE OF RICHAR-D BAXTER. 11
old worship, as it had been to bring in the new. All king Edward's
laws about religion were repealed by a single act of an obsequious
parliament. A solemn reconciliation was effected with the See of
Rome, and was ratified in the blood of an army of martyrs.
Many of the active friends of the reformation, forseeing the tem
pest, saved their lives by a timely flight to foreign countries. But
God made the wrath of man to praise him ; for the six years of this
reign contributed more perhaps than all the labors of Cranmer and
his associates during the six years of Edward, to open the eyes and
quicken the sluggish minds of the people, and to inspire them at
once with a warm affection for the protestant faith, and with a hear
ty detestation of popery. ¦-..„, is \__ .-¦ •
The commencement ofthe reign ofElizabeth, in 155§J is the
era of the establishment of the reformation in England. This
queen, of all the children of Henry VIII. inherited most largely the
spirit of her father. She was against the pope, because the pope's
supremacy was at variance with her own. She was against the
spirit of protestantism, because she saw that its tendency was to
make the people think for themselves. It soon appeared that,
under her auspices, the reformation which during the reign of Ed
ward had been progressive, and had been represented by its patrons
as only begun, was to be progressive no longer. Those who had
hoped that the new government would take up the work of reform
where Cranmer and his associates had left it, and would bring the
ecclesiastical affairs of the kingdom still nearer to a piimitive sim
plicity in doctrine and in order, found that the queen's march of im
provement was retrograde, and that the church, under her supre
macy, was to be carried back towards the stately and ceremonious
superstition of Romanism. But the popular mind had begun to
take an interest in these matters. So many religious revolutions
treading on each other's heels, had wakened thought and inquiry,
even among those who were generally regarded as having only to
obey the dictation of their superiors. To have suffered under
Queen Mary for dissenting from the established faith and order,
was extolled under Queen Elizabeth as meritorious ; and the peo
ple began to apprehend that religious truth and duty might be

12 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
something independent of the throne and the parliament, something
which law could not fix, nor revolution overturn. Those who had
seen so many burnt, and so many banished, for particular religious
opinions, and who understood that the opinions then proscribed
were now triumphant, were led to inquire what those opinions were,
and on what basis they rested. Thus the public mind was ripening
for a real reformation.
In these circumstances there sprung up a new party, tbe party of
the Puritans. Under King Edward, there had been dissension
among the reformers, some wishing to go faster and farther than
others. The question related chiefly to certain vestments of the
popish priesthood, and the controversy was whether they should be
retained or disused. By some it was deemed important to con
tinue the use of those garments in the administration of public
worship, at least for a while, lest by too sudden and violent a de
parture from all old usages and forms, the people might become
unnecessarily and inveterately prejudiced against the reformation.
By others those vestments were disapproved as relics of popish idol
atry ; and the disuse of them was insisted on, inasmuch as the peo
ple had been taught to regard them with a superstitious feeling, and
to believe that they were essential to the validity of all religious ad
ministrations. What was at first little else than a question of expe
diency, soon became a question of conscience. Dr. Hooper, one
of the most zealous and efficient leaders of the reformation, was
imprisoned several months by his brethren, for refusing to accept
the bishopric of Gloucester unless he might be consecrated without
putting on the popish habits. That difficulty was at last compro
mised by the mediation of the Swiss reformers with Hooper on the
one hand, and of the king and council with the ruling prelates on
the other ; and Ridley and Hooper afterwards labored with the same
zeal for the truth, and at last suffered with the same patience
the pains of martyrdom. During the persecution in Queen Mary's
time, the controversy was revived in another form. Of the exiles
who fled to the protestant countries on the continent, many admired,
and were disposed to copy, the discipline and worship of the re
formed churches ; while others insisted on adhering to the letter of

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 13
King Edward's service-book. At Frankfort, the congregation
at first agreed with entire unanimity on certain modes of worship
adapted as they thought to their necessities ; but afterwards, a new
company having arrived who brought with them a zealous attach
ment to the liturgy, a schism arose, and a considerable portion of
the congregation, with the ministers, left the field to the new comers,
and took up their residence in Geneva. On returning to their na
tive country, many of those who had approved the constitution of
the Swiss and French protestant churches, exerted themselves to
promote a further reformation in England, or at least to secure
some liberty in regard to matters which were acknowledged to be
indifferent. Their influence as individuals, some of them personally
connected with men high in rank and authority, their influence in the
universities, where some of them occupied important stations, and
their influence by means of the press, was employed to promote,
by all lawful means, greater purity of doctrine and of discipline in
the Church of England. But, as has already been intimated,
uniformly, the imposing idea of a whole nation united in one church,
with one faith and one form of worship, and subjected to a splendid
hierarchy with the monarch at the head of it, — was the idol to which
the queen and her counsellors were willing to sacrifice both peace
and truth. Other matters besides habits and ceremonies were
soon brought into debate. The entire constitution of the English
church was called in question. Thus the breach grew wider. It
was evident that the Puritans were not to be put down at a word ;
for, to say nothing of the merits of their cause, they were the most
learned divines, the most powerful preachers, and the most able dis
putants of the age, Thomas Cartwright, Margaret Professor of
Divinity in the University of Cambridge, of whom Beza said that
" there was not a more learned man under the sun," led the van in
the dispute against prelacy. The venerable Miles Coverdale who
having assisted Tindal in the translation of the bible, had been
bishop of Exeter under King Edward, and had hardly escaped
from death under Queen Mary, was a Puritan, and as such died
poor and neglected. John Fox whose history of the martyrs, was
held in such veneration that it was ordered to be set up in the
churches, was a Puritan, and shared the lot of Coverdale. Many

14 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
church dignitaries, including some of the bishops, were known to
despise the habits and ceremonies, and to desire earnestly a more
complete reformation. Yet nothing was yielded; the terms of
uniformity were so defined as to be easier for papists than for those
who doubted the completeness of' the established reformation.
Ministers convicted of non-conformity, though it were but the
omission of a sentence or a ceremony in the liturgy, or a neglect
to put on the popish surplice, were suspended, or deprived of their
livings, then forbidden to preach, then — in many instances — im
prisoned. When such men were thus turned out of their employ
ments, and prohibited the exercise of their gifts, they found refuge
and employment in the houses of many of the nobility and gentry,
as private chaplains and instructors. In this way their principles
were diffused among the highest classes of society. Meanwhile
few preachers could be found to occupy the places of the ejected
and silenced Puritans. Men without learning and without charac
ter were made clergymen ; but neither the orders of the Queen in
council, nor the imposition of episcopal hands could qualify them
to be pastors. The people, especially the thinking and the sober
people of the middling classes, when they saw the difference be
tween the pious and zealous preachers who were deprived for non
conformity, and the ignorant and sometimes profligate readers who
were put in their places, called the latter " dumb dogs," (in allusion
to the language of scripture,) and were the more ready to follow
their persecuted teachers! And those, of every rank, who had
begun to experience any thing ofthe power of christian truth, and
to love the doctrines and duties of the gospel, and who desired to
see sinners converted by the preaching of God's word, sympathized
deeply with these suffering ministers, and, out of respect to their
evangelical character, were strongly disposed to favor and to adopt
the principles for which they suffered. Thus, while Puritanism
was making constant progress in the community, it was associated,
almost from its origin, with serious and practical piety ; and it soon
came to pass that every man who cared more for godliness than his
neighbors, or was more strict than they in his obedience to the pre-
eepts of the gospel, or who exhibited any faith in the principles of
experimental religion, was called, by way of reproach, a Puritan.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 15
Elizabeth died after a reigjarof forty-four years, and was sue--
ceeded by James 1. in 1G£§> The Puritans, including both those
who had been voluntarily or forcibly separated from the establish
ment, and those who by a partial or entire conformity still retained
their connection with the church, had entertained strong hopes
that a king who had reigned in Scotland from his infancy, who
had made ample and frequent professions of his attachment to the
ecclesiastical constitution of his native kingdom, and who had
openly declared respecting the church of England, that " their
service was an evil-said mass in English," would decidedly
favor a more complete reformation. Accordingly he was met on
his progress towards London, with numerous petitions, one of
which was signed by nearly eight hundred clergymen, " desiring
reformation of certain ceremonies and abuses of the church." But
the king whom they addressed was at once a vainglorious - foolish
pedant, and an arbitrary treacherous prince ; and the first year of
his reign abundantly taught them the fallacy of all their hopes.
For the sake of first raising, and then disappointing and crushing,
the expectations of such as were dissatisfied with the existing sys
tem, a conference was held by royal authority at Hampton Court,
to which were summoned, on one side four-Puritan divines, with
a minister from Scotland, and on the other side seventeen digni
taries of the church, nine of whom were bishops. At this meeting,
after the king had first determined all things in consultation
with the bishops and their associates, the Puritans were made to
feel that they were brought there not in the spirit of conciliation,
but to be made a spectacle to their enemies ; not to argue, or to be
argued with, before a king impartial and desiring to be led by rea
son, but ti be ridiculed and scorned, insulted and reproached by
a fool too elevated in station to be answered according to his folly.
As for their desire of liberty in things indifferent, his language
was, " I will have none of that ; I will have one doctrine, one dis
cipline, one religion in substance and ceremony : never speak more
to that point, how far you are bound to obey." To their request
that ministers might have the liberty of meeting under the direc
tion of their ecclesiastical superiors, for mutual assistance and im
provement, he replied peremptorily, in language characteristically

16 LIMP OF RICHARD BAXTER.
coarse and profane, that their plans tended to the subversion of
monarchy, and charged them with degjring' the overthrow of his
supremacy. And his majesty's conclusion of the whole matter
was," " I will make them conform, or I will harry them out of tbi3
land, or else worse." Neal adds very truly, " and he was as good
as his word."
There were many things in the policy of the government, and
in the character of the times, which promoted, during all this reign,
the cause of Puritanism. The king, with nothing of the masculine
energy by which Elizabeth controled her parliaments, had the
most extravagant notions of his own divine right to govern without
limitation, and was evidently bent on setting his will above all laws.
Under such a prince, too arbitrary to be loved, and too foolish to
be feared, the spirit of liberty naturally revived among the people.
James in his folly, gave the name'of Puritanism to every movement.
and every principle, wherever manifested, which breathed of pop
ular privilege, or implied the existence of any limit to his preroga
tive. Thus the cause of the Puritans was associated, in the esti
mation both of court and country, with the cause of English free
dom, and of resistance to the encroachments of arbitrary power ;
and the cause of the».prelates was equally associated with all those
measures of the government ¦ that were odious to the friends of lib
erty, or pernicious to the common welfare. Nor was there any
incongruity in these associations. The Puritans were men of a
stern and republican cast; they spake as if they had rights, and
addressed the throne with their complaints. The prelates, in
all their relations, were dependent on the court; they sympathized
with the king in his love of power ; they joined with him in his
maxim, " No bishop, no king;" "and they fed his oriental notions
of royalty with strains of oriental adulation. Thus the party of
the Puritans, though it lacked not the support of many a high-
minded nobleman, rapidly became the party of the middling class
es ; while prelacy was espoused chiefly by the luxurious and un
principled nobility on the one hand, and by their degraded and
dependent peasantry on the other. At the same time, with a folly
if possible still greater, the king deserted the protestant interest in
Europe, of which both policy and principle ought to have made

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 17
him the head; sought first a Spanish, and afterwards a French al
liance for his son ; entered into treaties binding himself to protect
and favor the papists in his own kingdom ; and in many ways show
ed himself not unwilling to be reconciled to Rome. Nothing could
have been more offensive to the people whose hatred of popery,
kindled into a passion by the persecutions under Mary, and kept
alive by the terror of the Spanish invasion, and by the national re
joicings over its defeat, had now been aggravated into an incurable
horror by the recently discovered "Powder Plot." Hardly any
thing could have given the Puritans a better introduction to popular
favor; for they were cordial and zealous protestants, hating the very
garments spotted with the pollutions of Rome ; and what could
their enemies be but secret papists. Another instance of the infa
tuation of this reign was the marked favor shown to the newly
broached doctrines of Arminianism. Abbot, the Archbishop of
Canterbury was indeed an opposer of those novelties, and promo
ted to the extent of his influence the preaching of evangelical truth,
deeming it far more important than all the ceremonies ; but the
king introduced into several of the most important bishoprics men
of another stamp, whose views were known to be at war with the
doctrines ofthe reformers; and all who held the Calvinistic con
struction of the articles, however strict their conformity, were
branded as " doctrinal Puritans," and for them there was no road
to preferment. No wonder that under such influences, dissatis
faction with the existing ecclesiastical system grew deeper and
stronger. James I. was succeeded by Charles I. in*It>2j£-~-
In the scenes that followed, Riohard Baxter sustained an im
portant part. He was born at Rowton, a village in Shropshire, No
vember 12, 1615. His father (whose name was also Richard) was
a freeholder possessed of a moderate estate at Eaton Constantine,
another village in the same county, about five miles from Shrews
bury. His infancy was spent under the care and in the house of
his maternal grandfather at Rowton. At about ten years of age he
was taken home by his parents to their residence at Eaton Con
stantine. His father had been in youth so much addicted to gaming, as to
Vol. I. 3

18 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
have involved his property in very considerable embarrassments ;
but, at a later period, the blessing of God on the simple reading of
the scriptures, without any other religious advantages, had made
him a devout and godly man. The influence of a father's example
and serious instructions early affected the mind- of the son with re
ligious impressions, and gave him a remarkable tenderness of con
science. In subsequent years, the father expressed a strong belief
that his son Richard was converted in infancy.
Respecting the religious advantages of his childhood, aside from
domestic example and instruction, Baxter gives the following testi
mony. " We lived in a country that had but little preaching at all.
In the village where I was born, there were four readers succes
sively in six years time, ignorant men, two of them immoral in their
lives, who were all my schoolmasters. In the village where my
father lived, there was a reader of about eighty years of age that
never preached, and had two churches about twenty miles distant.
His eye sight failing him, he said common prayer without book ;
but for the reading of the Psalms and chapters, he got a common
thresher, and day-laborer one year, and a taylor another year ; for
the clerk could not read well. And at last he had a kinsman of
his own, (the excellentest stage-player in all the country, and a
good gamester and good fellow,) that got orders and supplied one
of his places. After him another younger kinsman that could write
and read, got orders. And at the same time another neighbor's
son that had been a while at school, turned minister, and, who would
needs go further than the rest, ventured to preach, (and after got a
living in Staffordshire) and when he had been a preacher about
twelve or sixteen years, he was fain to give over, it being discovered
that his orders were forged by the first ingenious stage-player.
After him another neighbor's son took orders, when he had been a
while an attorney's clerk, and a common drunkard, and tippled him
self into so great poverty that he had no other way to live. It was
feared that he and more of them came by their orders the same •
way with the forementioned person. These were the schoolmas
ters of my youth, (except two of them) who read common prayer
on Sundays and holy-days, and taught school and tippled on the
week days, and whipped the boys when they were drunk, so that

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 19
we changed them very oft. Within a few miles about us were near
a dozen more ministers that were near eighty years old apiece, and
never preached ; poor ignorant readers, and most of them of scan
dalous lives. Only three or four constant competent preachers
lived near us, and those (though conformable all save one) were
the common marks of the people's obloquy and reproach, and any
that had but gone to hear them when he had no preaching at home,
was made the derision of the vulgar rabble, under the odious name
of a Puritane."*
The state of society in which his early years were spent, he de
scribes in the same style. The character ofthe people correspond
ed with the character of their religious privileges. " In the village
where I lived," he says, " trie reader read the common prayer
briefly, and the rest ofthe day, even till dark night almost, except
eating time, was spent in dancing under a may-pole and a great
tree, not far from my father's door ; where all the town did meet
together. And though one of my father's own tenants was the
piper, he could not restrain him nor break the sport ; so that we
could not read the scripture in our family without the great dis
turbance of the taber and pipe and noise in the street. Marly times
my mind was inclined to be among them, and sometimes I broke
loose from conscience and joined with them ; and the more I did
it the more I was inclined to it. But when I heard them call my
father, Puritan, it did much to cure me and alienate me from them ;
for I considered that my father's exercise of reading the scripture,
was better than their's, and would surely be better thought on by
all men at the last ; and I considered what it was for which he and
and others were thus derided. When I heard them speak scorn
fully of others as Puritans, whom I never knew, I was at first apt
to believe all the lies and slanders wherewith they loaded them.
But when I heard my own father so reproached, and perceived the
drunkards were the forwardest in the reproach, I perceived that it
was mere malice. For my father never scrupled common prayer
or ceremonies, nor spake against bishops, nor even so much as prayed

* Narrative of his life and times. Part I. p. 2.

20 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
but by a book or form, being not even acquainted with any that did
otherwise. But only for reading scripture when the rest were
dancing on the Lord's day, and for praying (by a form out ofthe
end of the common prayer book) in his house, and for reproving
drunkards and swearers, and for talking sometimes a few words of
scripture and the life to come, he was reviled commonly by the
name of Puritan, Precisian, and Hypocrite ; and so were the godly '
conformable ministers that lived any where near us, not only by our
neighbors, but by the common talk of all the vulgar rabble of all
about us. By this experience I was fully convinced that godly
people were the best, and those that despised them and lived in sin
and pleasure, were a malignant, unhappy sort of people ; and this
kept me out of their company, except now and then when the love
of sports and play enticed me."*
About the age of fifteen, the mind of Baxter was more deeply and
permanently affected with the things that pertain to salvation. That
tenderness of conscience, which has already been described as
characteristic of his early childhood, made him feel with much sen
sibility the guilt of some boyish crimes into which he had been led
by his ruder companions. In this distress, he met with an old torn
book which had been lent to his father by a poor day-laborer.
The book, though now obsolete, seems to have been blessed in its
day to the conversion of many. It was written originally by a Jesuit
on Roman Catholic principles, but had been carefully corrected by-
Edmund Bunny, a Puritan of Queen Elizabeth's time, after whom
it was entitled "Bunny's Resolution." The reading of this book
was attended with the happiest effects on his mind. "I had before
heard," he says, " some sermons, and read a good book or two,
which made me more love and honor godliness in the general; but
I had never felt any other change by them on my heart. Whether
it were that till now I came not to that maturity of nature, which
made me capable of discerning ; or whether it were that this was
God's appointed time, or both together, I had no lively sight or sense
of what I read till now. And in the reading of this book, it pleased
God to awaken my soul, and show me the folly of sinning, and the

* Narrative, Part I, pp. 2, 3.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 21
misery of the wicked, and the inexpressible weight of things eter
nal, and the necessity of resolving on a holy life, more than I was
ever acquainted with before. The same things which I knew be
fore, came now in another manner, with light and sense and seri
ousness to my heart. This cast me at first into fears of my condi
tion ; and those drove me to sorrow and confession and prayer, and
so to some resolution for another kind of life. And many a day
I went with.a throbbing conscience, and saw that I had other mat
ters to mind, and another work to do in the world, than I had mind
ed well before.
" Yet whether sincere conversion began now, or before, or after,
I was never. able to this day* to know ; for I had before had some
love to the things and people which were good, and a restraint
from other sins except those forementioned ; and so much from
those that I seldom committed most of them, and when I did, it
was with great reluctance. And both now and formerly I knew
that Christ was the only Mediator by whom we must have pardon,
justification and life. But even at that time, I had little lively sense
of the love of God in Christ to the world in me, nor of my spe
cial need of him ; for all Papists almost are too short upon this
subject."-)- At this time his father bought of a pedlar at the door, another
book, "The Bruised Reed," by Dr. Richard Sibbs. This he
found adapted to the state of his mind in those circumstances.
It disclosed to him more clearly the love of God towards him, and
gave him livelier apprehensions of the mystery of Redemption,
and of his obligations to the Savior. Afterwards a servant came
into the family with a volume of the works of William Perkins, ano
ther ancient and eminent Puritan divine ; the reading of which in
structed him further, and gave new strength to his determination.
" Thus," he says, " without any means but books, was God pleased
to resolve me for himself." During all this period of his educa
tion and of his christian experience, neither his father nor himself
had any acquaintance with a single individual better instructed than
themselves on the subject of religion. It is also worthy of notice
* Written in 1664, thirty-four years afterwards, t Narrative, Part I. p. 3.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

that they had never heard an extemporaneous prayer. "My
prayers," says Baxter, " were the confession in the common prayer
book and sometimes one of Mr. Bradford's prayers in a book call
ed his ' Prayers and Meditations,' and sometimes a prayer out of
another prayer book which we had."
The ignorant and tippling schoolmasters, under whom he ac
quired the earliest rudiments of education, have already been de
scribed. Of a Mr. John Owen, master of a considerable free
school at Wroxeter, near his father's residence, he speaks with re
spect. In that school he was fitted for the university. But when
his studies were advanced to that point, he was diverted from his
original design of obtaining a regular education ar one of the esta
blished seats of learning. His teacher proposed that instead of go
ing to the university, he should be put under the tuition of a Mr.
Wickstead chaplain to the council at Ludlow, who was allowed to
have a single pupil. This situation, he was made to believe, was
much more favorable to study than the university ; and his parents
regarded the new proposal with much partiality, as by such an ar
rangement their only son would still be kept near them. Accord
ingly he went to Ludlow Castle. But his new instructor taught him
nothing. The chaplain to the council was too much engaged with
his efforts " to please the great ones and to seek preferment ;" he
had no time or attention to bestow on his single pupil. Yet he did
nothing to hinder the progress of the active and powerful young
mind which he had undertaken to instruct ; and with time enough
and books, such a mind could not fail to make progress.
In his new circumstances he was exposed to many temptations,
the Castle and town being full of idleness and dissipation. But
while there, he formed an intimate acquaintance with a man who
though he afterwards apostatised, was then distinguished by strong
and fervid religious feelings. His intercourse with his friend not
only kept him on his guard, but kindled his own feelings to a high
er pitch of excitement than they had ever attained before.
After a year and a half spent at Ludlow Castle, he returned to
his father's house. His former teacher Owen being sick with con
sumption, he, at the request of Lord Newport the patron, took
charge of the school for a few months. The death of Owen and

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 23
the appointment of a successor soon left him at liberty ; and hav
ing resolved to enter the ministry, he put himself under the instruc
tion of Mr. Francis Garbet then minister at Wroxeter, of whom
he speaks with affection and reverence. Under this teacher he
commenced, with much zeal, those metaphysical pursuits to which
he was ever afterwards so much devoted. His studies however
were much interrupted by disease, and sometimes by mental distress
approaching to religious melancholy.
Not far from this time, when he was about eighteen years of
age, he was persuaded for a little while to abandon his plans and
expectations in regard to preaching the gospel. Mr. Wickstead,
his tutor at Ludlow, who seems to have regarded him with a friend
ly interest, proposed that he should go to London in the hope of
obtaining some office about the court. Baxter himself disliked the
proposal ; but his parents not having any great inclination to see
their son a clergyman, (which cannot be thought strange consider
ing the specimens of clerical character with which they were ac
quainted,) were so much pleased with it, that he felt himself con
strained to yield to their wishes. Accordingly he went to London,
and by the friendly aid of Mr. Wickstead, was introduced to the
patronage of Sir Henry Herbert, then master of the revels. He
stayed with Sir Henry-at Whitehall about a month ; and in that short
time had enough ofthe court. For when he saw, as he says, " a
stage play instead of a sermon on the Lord's days in the after
noon," and " heard little preaching but what was as to one part
against the Puritans," he was glad to be gone. At the same time
his mother being sick desired his return. So he " resolved to bid
farewell to those kinds of employments and expectations." It is
no wonder if, after this piece of experience, he entertained very
little respect for the religion of the court and the king, and was
more inclined than ever toward the princfples of the calumniated
Puritans. When he came home, he found his mother in extreme pain.
She continued in lingering distress for about five months, and died
on the tenth of May 1635. More than a year afterwards his father
married Mary the daughter of Sir Thomas Hurkes, a woman of
eminent excellence, whose " holiness, mortification, contempt of

24 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the world, and fervent prayer," made her " a blessing to the family,
an honor to religion, and a pattern to those that knew her." This
is the character given of her by her step-son, after her departure
at the age of ninety-six.
He now pursued his preparation for the ministry without any
further interruption save what was occasioned by the extreme in
firmity of his constitution and the repeated attacks of disease. His
physical frame, though" naturally sound was never firm or vigorous ;
and from childhood he was subject to a nervous debility. At four
teen years of age he had the small pox ; and in connection with
that disease, he brought upon himself by improper exposure and
diet, a violent catarrh and cough, which prevented all quiet sleep
at night. After two years this was attended with spitting of blood
and other symptoms of consumption ; and from this time to the
extreme old age at which he left the world, he lived a dying life.
The ever varying remedies which he successively tried, following
from time to time the discordant suggestions of physicians and
other advisers, had little effect except to vary, and with each va
riation as it seemed, to aggravate the symptoms of disease. The
record of his diseases and his remedies need not be transcribed.
His "rheumatic head;" his "flatulent stomach that turned all
things into wind ;" his blood in such a state as to occasion the fre
quent excoriation of his fingers' ends ; and his excessive bleedings
at the nose— both periodical every spring and fall — and occasional,
whenever he was subjected to any unusual heat, explain his inter
vals of melancholy, afford an apology for the alleged acerbity of
his temper, and make the industry of his life, especially when view
ed in connection with the results, almost miraculous.
This living continually at the gate of death, and as it were within
sight of an immediate retribution, had much to do in the formation
of his character as a christian and as a minister of the gospel.
When, at the age of seventeen, he was thought to be sinking in a
consumption, the nearness of death set him on a close and trem
bling examination of his fitness to die. Thus was he "long kept
with the calls of approaching death at one ear and the questionings
of a doubtful conscience at the other ;" and afterwards he " found
that this method of God's was very wise," and that no other was

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 25
so likely to have tended to his good. It humbled him and led him
to abasing views of himself. It restrained him from the levity and
vanity of youth, and helped him to meet temptations to sensuality
with the greatest fear. It made the doctrine of redemption the
more delightful to him ; and the studies and considerations to which
it led him, taught him how to live by faith on Christ. It made the
world seem to him like " a carcass that had neither life nor loveli
ness." "It destroyed," he says, "those ambitious desires after
literate fame, which was the sin of my childhood. I had a desire
before to have attained the highest academical degrees and repu
tation of learning, and to have chosen out my studies accordingly ;
but sickness and solicitousness for my doubting soul did drive away
all these thoughts as fooleries and children's plays."
What he says respecting the effect of all this on the course of
his preparation for the ministry, is worthy of a particular attention.
" It set me upon that method of my studies, which since then I have
found the benefit of, though at the time I was not satisfied with
myself. It caused me first to seek God's kingdom and his right
eousness, and most to mind the one thing needful, and to deter
mine first of my ultimate end, by which I was engaged to choose
out and to prosecute all other studies but as meant to that end.
Therefore divinity was not only carried on with the rest of my stu
dies with an equal hand, but always had the first and chiefest place.
And it caused me to study practical divinity first, and in the most
practical books, in a practical order, doing all purposely for the in
forming and reforming of my own soul.? So that I had read a
multitude of our English practical treatises before I had ever read
any other bodies of divinity than Ursine and Amesius, or two or
three more. By which means my affection was carried on with my
my judgment; and by that means I prosecuted all my studies with
unweariedness and delight ; and by that means all that I read did
stick the better in my memory ; — and also less of my time was lost
by lazy intermissions, but my bodily infirmities always caused me
to lose (or spend) much of it in motion and corporeal exercises, which
* Anew day will dawn on the church, when all students of theology adopt this
principle.
Vol. 1. 4

26 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
was sometimes by walking, and sometimes at the plow and such
country labors.
" But one loss I had by this method, which hath proved irrepara
ble ; I missed that part of learning which stood at the greatest dis
tance (in my thoughts) from my ultimate end, though no doubt but
remotely it may be a valuable means — and I could never since find
time to get it. Besides the Latin tongue, and but a mediocrity in
Greek, with an inconsiderable trial at the Hebrew long after, I had
no great skill in languages ; though 1 saw that an accurateness and
thorough insight in the Greek and Hebrew were very desirable.
But I was so eagerly carried after the knowledge of things, that I
too much neglected the study of words. And for the mathematics,
I was an utter stranger to them, and never could find in my heart to
divert my studies that way. But in order to the knowledge of di
vinity, my inclination was most to logic and metaphysics, with that
part of physics which teacheth of the soul, contenting myself at first
with a slighter study of the rest. And these had my labor and de
light ; which occasioned me (perhaps) too soon to plunge myself
very early into the study of controversies, and to read all the
schoolmen I could get. For next to practical divinity, no books
so suited with my disposition as Aquinas, Scotus, Durandus, Ock
am, and their disciples ; because I thought they narrowly searched
after truth, and brought things out of the darkness of confusion.
For I could never from my first studies endure confusion. Till
equivocals were explained, and definition and distinction led the
way, I had rather hold my tongue than speak ; and was never
more weary of learned men's discourses, than when I heard them
wrangling about unexpounded words or things, and eagerly disputing
before they understood each others' minds, and vehemently asserting
modes and consequences and adjuncts, before they considered
of the Quod sit, the Quid, sit, or the Quotuplex. I never thought
I understood any thing till I could anatomize it, and see the parts
distinctly, and the conjunction of the parts as they make up the
whole. Distinction and method seemed to me of that necessity,
that without them I could not be said to know ; and the disputes that
forsook them, or abused them, seemed but as incoherent dreams."
Allusion has been made to the fears and difficulties which at-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 27
tended his religious views and feelings at this period of his life.
These were, perhaps, in no respect peculiar. Few christians
can read what he records on this subject, without finding much
that coincides with their own experience, and much, in the way of
analysis and explanation, that is adapted to their own necessities.
" As for those doubts of my own salvation, which exercised
me for many years, the chiefest causes of them were these :
" 1. Because I could not distinctly trace the workings of the
Spirit upon my heart, in that method which Mr. Bolton, Mr. Hook
er, Mr. Rogers and other divines describe ; nor knew the time of
my conversion, being wrought on by the forementioned degrees.
But since then, I understood that the soul is in too dark and pas
sionate a plight at first, to be able to keep an account of the order
of its own operations; and that preparatory grace being sometimes
longer and sometimes shorter, and the first degree of special grace
being usually very small, it is not possible that one of very many
should be able to give any true account of the just time when spe
cial grace began, and advanced him above the state of preparation.
" 2. My second doubt was as aforesaid, because of the hardness
of my heart, or want of such a lively apprehension of things spirit
ual, which I had about things corporeal. And though I still groan
under this as my sin and want, yet I now perceive that'a soul in flesh
doth work so much after the manner of the flesh, that it much de
sireth sensible apprehensions ; but things spiritual and distant are
not so apt to work upon them, and to stir the passions, as things
present and sensible are ; especially being known so darkly as the
state and operations of separated souls are known to us who are in
the body ; and that the rational operations of the higher faculties
(the intellect and will) may without so much passion, set God and
things spiritual highest within us, and give them the pre-eminence,
and subject all carnal interest to them, and give them the gov
ernment of the heart and life ; and that this is the ordinary state of
a believer. " 3. My next doubt was lest education and fear had done all that
was ever done upon my soul, and regeneration and love were yet to
seek ; because I had found convictions from my childhood, and
had found more fear than love in all my duties and restraints.

28 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
"But I afterwards perceived that education is God's ordinary
way for the conveyance of his grace, and ought no more to be set in
opposition to the Spirit than the preaching of the word ; and that it
was the great mercy of God to begin with me so soon, and to pre
vent such sins as might else have been my shame and sorrow
while I lived ; and that repentance is good, but prevention and in
nocence is better, which though we cannot obtain in perfection, yet
the more the better. And I understand that though fear without
love be not a state of saving grace, and greater love to the world
than to God be not consistent with sincerity ; yet a little predomi
nant love (prevailing against worldly love) conjunct with a far great
er measure of fear, may be a state of special grace ; and that fear
being an easier and irresistible passion, doth oft obscure that measure
of love which is indeed within us : and that the soul of a believer
groweth up by degrees from the more troublesome and safe ope
ration of fear, to the more high and excellent operations of com-
placential love ; even as it hath more of the sense of the love of God
in Christ, and belief of the heavenly life which it approachetiv; and
that it is long before love be sensibly predominant in respect of fear
(that is, of self-love and self-preservation) though at the first it is
predominant against worldly love. And I found that my hearty
love of the word of God and of the servants of God, and my de
sires to be more holy, and especially the hatred of my heart for lov
ing God no more, and my love to love him, and be pleasing to him,
was not without some love to himself, though it worked more sen
sibly on his nearer image.
"A. Another of my doubts was because my grief and humiliation
were no greater, and because I could weep no more for this. But
I understood at last that God breaketh not all men's hearts alike,
and that the gradual proceedings of his grace might be one cause,
and my nature not apt to weep for other things, another ; and that
the change of our heart from sin to God is true repentance, and a
loathing of ourselves is true humiliation ; and he that had rather
leave his sin, than have leave to keep it, and had rather be the
most holy, than leave to be unholy or less holy, is neither without
true repentance, uor the love of God.
•" 5. Another of my doubts was, because I had after my change

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 29
committed some sins deliberately and knowingly ; and be they ne
ver so small, I thought he that could sin upon knowledge and de
liberation had no true grace, and that if I had but had as strong
temptations to fornication, drunkenness, fraud or other more hein
ous sins, I might also have committed them. And if these proved
that I had then no saving grace, after all that I had felt, I thought
it unlikely that I ever should have any.
" This stuck with me longer than any ; and the more, because that
every sin which I knowingly committed did renew it ; and the
terms on which I receive consolation against it are these : (Not as
those that think every sin against knowledge doth nullify all our for
mer grace and unregenerate us ; and that every time we repent of
such, we have a new regeneration, but)
" 1. All saving grace doth indeed put the soul into a state of
enmity to sin as sin, and consequently to every known sin.
" 2. This enmity must show itself in victory ; for bare striving,
when we are overcome, and yielding to sin when we have awhile
striven against it, proveth not the soul to be sincere.
" 3. Yet do not God's children always overcome ; for then they
should not sin at all ; but he that saith he hath no sin deceiveth
himself. "4. God's children always overcome those temptations which
would draw them to a wicked unholy state of life, and would un
regenerate them and change their state, and turn them back from
God to a fleshly, worldly life ; and also to any particular sin which
proveth such a state, and signifieth a heart which hath more love
to the world than to God, — which may well be called a mortal sin,
as proving the sinner in a state of death ; as others may be called ve
nial sins, which are consistent with spiritual life and a justified state.
" 5. Therefore whenever a justified person sinneth, the tempta
tion at that time prevaileth against the Spirit and the love of God ;
not to the extinction ofthe love of God, nor the destruction of the
habit, nor the setting up of the contrary habit in predominance ; as
setting up the habitual love of any sin above the habitual love of
God. The inclination of the soul is still most to God ; and he es-
teemeth him most, and preferreth him in the adherence of his will,
in the main bent and course of heart and life ; only he is overcome

30 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
and so far abateth the actual love aud obedience to God, as to
commit this particular act of sin, and remit or omit that act of love.
" 6, And this it is possible for a justified person to do upon some
deliberation ; for as grace may strive one instant only in one act,
and then be suddenly overcome ; so it may strive longer, and keep
the mind on considerations of restraining motives, and yet be over
come. "7. For it is not the mere length of consideration, which is enough
to excite the heart against sin, but there must be clearness of light,
and liveliness in those considerations. And sometimes a sudden
conviction is so clear, and great, and sensible, that in an instant it
stirreth up the soul to an utter abhorrence of the temptation, when
the same man at another time may have all the same thoughts, in
so sleepy a degree as shall not prevail.
" 8. And though a little sin must be hated, and universal obedience
must prove our sincerity, and no one sin must be wilfully continued
in ; yet it is certain that God's servants do not often commit sins
materially great and heinous, (as fornication, drunkenness, perjury,
oppression, deceit, etc.) and yet that they often commit some lesser
sins, (as idle thoughts, and idle words, and dullness in holy duties,
defectiveness in the love of God, and omission of holy thoughts and
words, etc.) and that the tempter often getteth advantage even
with them, by telling that the sin is small, and such as God's ser
vants ordinarily commit ; and that naturally we fly with greater fear
from a great danger than from a less ; from a wound in the heart
than from a cut finger. And therefore one reason why idle words
and sinful thoughts are, even deliberately, oftener committed than
most heinous sins, is because the soul is not awaked so much by fear
and care to make resistance; and love needeth the help of fear in
this our weak condition.
" 9. And it is certain that usually the servants of God being men
of most knowledge, do therefore sin against more knowledge than
others do ; for there are but few sins, which they know not to be
sins. They know that idle thoughts and words, and the omissions of
the contrary, are their sins.
" 10. There are some sins of such difficulty to avoid, (as the dis
order or omission of holy thoughts, and the defects of love to God,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 31
etc.) and some temptations so strong, and the soul in so sluggish a
case to resist, that good thoughts which are in deliberation used
against them, are borne down at last and are lees effectual.
"11. And our present stock of habitual grace is never sufficient
of itself without co-operating grace from Christ ; and therefore
when we provoke him to withhold his help, no wonder if we show
our weakness, so far as to stumble in the way to heaven, or to
step out into some by-path, or break over the hedge, and some
times to look back, and yet never to turn back, and go again from
God to die world.
" 12. And because no fall of a saint which is venial, an infirmity,
consistent with grace, doth either destroy the habit Of love and
grace, or set up a contrary habit above it, nor yet pervert the scope
and bent ofthe conversation, but only prevaileth to a particular act, it
therefore followeth, that the soul riseth up from such a sin by true
repentance, and that the new nature or habit of love within us will
work out the sin as soon as it hath advantage ; as a needle in the
compass will return to its proper point, when the force that moved
it doth cease ; and as a running stream will turn clear again, when
the force that muddied it is past. And this repentance will do much
to increase our hatred of the sin, and fortify us against the next
temptation ; so that though there be some sins which through our
great infirmity we daily commit, as we daily repent of them (as disor
dered thoughts, defects of love, neglect of God, 8sc.) yet it will not
be so with those sins which a willing, sincere, habituated penitent
hath more in his power to cast out.
" 13. And yet when all this is done, sin will breed fears, (and the
more by how much the more deliberate and wilful it is ;) and the
best way to keep under doubts and terrors, and to keep up com
fort, is to keep up actual obedience, and quickly and penitently re
turn when we have sinned.
" This much I thought meet to say, for the sake of others, who
may fall into the same temptations and perplexities.
" The means, by which God was pleased to give me some peace
and comfort, were,
" 1 . The reading of many consolatory books.
" 2. The observation of other men's condition. When I heard

32 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
many make the very same complaints that I did, who were people
of whom I had the best esteem, for the uprightness and holiness of
their lives, it much abated my fears and troubles. And in par
ticular it much comforted me, to read him whom I loved as one of
the holiest of all the martyrs, Mr. John Bradford, subscribing him
self so often, "the hard-hearted sinner;" and " the miserable hard
hearted sinner," even as I was used to do myself.
" 3. And it much increased my peace when God's Providence
called me to the comforting many others that had the same com
plaints. While I answered their doubts I answered my own ; and
the charity, which I was constrained to exercise for them, redound
ed to myself, and insensibly abated my fears, and procured me an
increase of quietness of mind.
" And yet after all, I was glad of probabilities instead of full, un
doubted certainties ; and to this very day, though I have no such
degree of doubtfulness as is any great trouble to my soul, or pro-
cureth any great disquieting fears, yet cannot I say, that I have such
a certainty of my own sincerity in grace, as excludeth all doubts
and fears ofthe contrary."*
His ill health increased as he pursued his studies after his return
from London ; and the spirituality and devotedness of his mind
seems to have maintained a progress corresponding with the decay
of his physical system. From the age of twenty-one to near twen
ty-three, he had no expectation of surviving a single year. And in
these circumstances so clear were his views of the eternal world
and its interests, that he was exceedingly desirous to communicate
those apprehensions " to such ignorant, presumptuous, careless sin
ners, as the world aboundeth with." As he thought of preaching,
he felt many discouragements. He not only knew that the want
of university honors and titles was likely to diminish the estimation
in which he would be held, and the respect with which he would
be heard by many ; but he was conscious of the actual defects of
his education, and felt deeply all his persona] insufficiency.- " But

* Narrative, Part I. pp. 6 — 9.

o

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 33
yet, " he adds, " expecting to he so quickly in another world, the
great concernments of miserable souls, did prevail with me against
all these impediments; and being conscious of a thirsty desire of
men's conversion and salvation, and of some competent persuading
faculty of expression, which fervent affections might help to ac
tuate, I resolved that if oneor two souls only might be won to God,
it would easily recompense all the dishonor which, for want of titles,
I might undergo from men. And igdeed I had such clear convic
tions of the madness of secure presumptuous sinners, and the un
questionable reasons which should induce men to a holy life, and
ofthe unspeakable greatness of that work which in this hasty inch
of time we have all to do, that I thought that a man that could be
ungodly if he did but hear these things, was fitter for Bedlam than
for the reputation of a sober rational man."* The man who un
dertakes the ministry with such views, and has a fair opportunity to
exercise that ministry, never will fail to be successful, so long as
the gospel is the wisdom of God and the power of God unto
salvation. As yet, he had not entered into the questions on which the
church of England was divided. While young he had never been
acquainted with any who refused to conform to the established or
der and ceremonies of the church. He was twenty years of age,
when he first formed an acquaintance with a few zealous and de
voted non-conforming ministers in Shrewsbury and the vicinity,
whose fervent prayers, and spiritual conversation, and holy lives,
were highly profitable to him ; and when he found that these men
were troubled and vexed by the ecclesiastical authorities, he could
not but be somewhat prejudiced in their favor, and began to doubt
whether their opposers " could be the genuine followers of the Lord
of love." Yet he resolved to hold his judgment in suspense till
he should have an opportunity' to investigate the subject. And
his prepossessions, generally, were in favor of conformity. He had
been educated in that way. Mr. Garbet and the other ministers
with whom he was most intimate, on whom he depended for di
rection in his studies, and to whom he looked with much deference
* Narrative, Part I. p. 12.
Vol. I. 5

34 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
to their learning as well as with respect for their piety, were deci
ded conformists. The only Puritan books which he had read, had
been books of practical religion ; for books against the order and
ceremonies of the church, were in those days not easily circulated.
But on the other hand his instructors and friends had put into his
hands all the works which were then considered the best in defense
of their opinions and practice. Thus being led to think in general
that the conformists had the Letter side of the question, he had
no scruple about the subscription required at ordination. At about
twenty-three years of age he was ordained in due form according
to the ritual of the church of England by the bishop of Worcester.
His first station was at Dudley in Worcestershire, where by the
interest of a friend widi the patron, he had obtained a place as
master of a free school, with an usher. This situation accorded
with his wishes, for it gave him opportunity to preach in destitute
places, and at the same time relieved him ofthe responsibility of a
pastoral charge, which he felt unwilling to sustain at the com
mencement of his ministry.
In this place he soon found himself compelled to enter on the
examination of the great controversy of those times. He found
that many private christians in that neighborhood were non-con
formists; one of them resided under the same roof with him. The
dispute took so strong a hold on the religious community around
him, that he soon resolved on a serious and impartial investigation.
The result of his inquiries at that time is worth stating, as it
shows what were the disputed questions of the day.
In regard to episcopacy he had then no difficulty, for he had
not at that time noticed the difference between arguments for an
episcopacy in the abstract, and arguments for the particular dioce
san episcopacy which existed in England. On the question of
kneeling at the Lord's supper, he was fully satisfied that conformity
was lawful. In regard to the surplice, he doubted ; he would not
wear it unless compelled to on pain of expulsion from the ministry ;
and the fact was he never wore it in his life. Respecting the ring
in marriage he had no scruple. The cross in baptism he thought
unlawful, though he felt some doubt respecting it ; and therefore
he never used it. A form of prayer, he considered in itself lawful ;

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 35
and he thought such a form might be prescribed by public autho
rity ; and though he regarded the English liturgy as objectionable
on account of its " disorder and defectiveness," his conclusion was
that it might be used in the ordinary public worship, by such as
had no liberty to do better. The want of discipline in the church
was in his view a great evil ; though he " did not then understand
that the very frame of diocesan prelacy excluded it," but supposed
that the bishops might have remedied that evil if they would. The
subscription required before ordination he now began to disap
prove ; and he blamed himself for having yielded to that claim.
So from this time he became, as he says, a non-conformist to these
three things, " subscription, and the cross in baptism, and the pro
miscuous giving of the Lord's supper to all drunkards, swearers,
fornicators, scorners at godliness, etc. that are not excommunice-
ted by a bishop or chancellor that is out of their acquaintance."
Still he was far from acting with the more zealous and thorough
non-conformists. He often debated the matter with them ; for he
regarded the disposition which some of them had to forsake and
renounce the established church, as a serious and threatening evil.
He labored to repress their censoriousness and the boldness and
bitterness of their language against the bishops, and to reduce them
to greater patience and charity. "But I found," he adds, " that
their sufferings from the bishops, were the great impediment to my
success; and he that will blow the coals must not wonder if some
sparks do fly in his face ; and that to persecute men and then call
them to charity, is like whipping children to make them give over
crying. The stronger sort of christians can bear mulcts and im
prisonments and reproaches for obeying God and conscience with
out abating their charity to their persecutors; but to expect this
from all the weak and injudicious, the young and passionate, is
against all reason and exprience. I saw that he that will be loved,
must love ; and he that rather chooseth to be more feared than
loved, must expect to be hated, or loved but diminutively. And
he that will have children, must be a father ; and he that will be a
tyrant, must be contented with slaves."'
He occupied his post at Dudley only nine months. The peo
ple were of a degraded class, having been much addicted to drunk-

36 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
enness ; but his labors among them were attended with an encou
raging measure of success. Being invited to Bridgenorth, the se
cond town in his native county, to preach there as assistant to the
worthy pastor of that place, he left his school, and thenceforward
had no work but that of the ministry. At Bridgenorth he had
an excellent colleague, a full congregation, and owing to some pe
culiar circumstances, a freedom from all those things respecting
which he had scruples or objections.
Tbe people to whom he here preached were ' ignorant and dead-
hearted.' The town was one which afforded the people no uni
form and regular employment, and at the same time was full of inns
and alehouses. Of course he labored at a great disadvantage.
His preaching however was very popular, and was blessed to the
conversion of some of his hearers. But the tippling and evil-com
munications and stupidity of the people were such, that though, as
he says, he never preached any where with more fervor or with
more vehement desires for the conversion of his hearers, his suc
cess was much less than it afterwards was in other places.
While Baxter continued at Bridgenorth, the controversy, civil
and ecclesiastical, which had so long been growing up, and which
from year to year had agitated the nation with a deeper and strong
er interest, broke out in those commotions which overturned the hi
erarchy and the throne. A brief view ofthe progress of affairs from
the beginning of this reign, seems proper in this connection, as the
meane of illustrating to readers not familiar with the details of Eng
lish history, many events recorded or referred to in the sequel of
this narrative.
Charles I. succeeded to the throne of his father at the age of
twenty-five, in circumstances which demanded of the chief ma
gistrate, not so much great force and splendid talents, as good
common sense, and plain common honesty, directed by a spirit of
kindness towards the people. The English nation had long been
accustomed to some measure of freedom ; and though the consti
tution of the kingdom was not then that well defined system of dis
tributed and balanced powers which it now is ; and though sove
reigns had often transcended the bounds of law, and in many in-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 37
stances had made their own will their rule of government ; it had
been well understood, from the earliest ages, that the rights of the
subject were as real as the prerogative ofthe monarch. The mon
archy had always been limited, not only, like every other ancient
monarchy in Europe, by the nature of the feudal system, but lim
ited still more by many a provision for the security of individual
rights. And though the boundaries of power seem to have advan
ced and receded from time to time, as the monarch was more or
less energetic, or as the barons and people were more or less spir
ited in the assertion of their rights, it was at every period, and un
der every reign, an indisputable principle of English freedom, that
no man could be rightfully deprived of property or liberty but in
the course of law, and that no law could be made but by the con
sent of the people expressed in parliament. James I. himself a
¦foreigner in England, and having neither knowledge ofthe English
character nor sympathy with the English spirit, attempted to govern
on the most arbitrary principles. The other monarchs of Europe
having gradually undermined, or violently overthrown, the barriers
of the old feudal constitutions, had made themselves absolute ; and
the successor of Elizabeth, so far as he was capable of forming or
comprehending any scheme of policy, pursued his measures with
reference to a similar result. Had he been as much of a man
as she was to whose throne he succeeded, his success might not
have been quite impossible. As it was, his imbecile efforts to play
the absolute monarch, at once roused in his subjects the spirit to as
sert their rights, and gave them strength to resist aggression. He
died baffled, disgraced, despised and unlamented; and his son in
herited, not only his throne already beginning to be undermined,
but his weak and vaccillating judgment, his faithless disposition, his
principles of usurpation and arbitrary misrule, his love of ecclesias
tical pomp and ceremony, and even his subjection to the influence
of a worthless and odious favorite.
The first important act of Charles after his accession was his
marriage with Henrietta a sister ofthe king of France, which had
been agreed on during the lifetime of his father. The bride
brought with her into the kingdom a retinue of Romish servants,
priests and courtiers, who by the marriage treaty were to be allow-

38 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
ed the uninterrupted exercise of all the rites of their religion.
Hardly anything could have been more obnoxious to the protestant
feelings ofthe nation, than the insolence of these privileged foreign
ers. The queen of England was seen walking through the
streets of the city to do penance, " her confessor meanwhile riding
by her in his coach ;" and as if on purpose to rouse popular indigna
tion into frenzy, her priests led her to Tyburn " there to present
her devotions for the departed souls of the papists who had been
executed at that place, on account of the gunpowder treason, and
other enormous crimes."* If any thing had been wanting to excite
prejudice against the superstitions of Rome, or against the court
as inclined to popery, such proceedings were best adapted to
that end.
The parliament, assembled by the young monarch at Westmin
ster immediately after the arrival of the queen, and thence adjourn
ed to Oxford on account of the plague, betrayed a new spirit, and
gave decided indications that the time had come in which the peo
ple would be heard and would make their rights respected. There
were men in the house of commons who were conscious of the in
creased political importance which the increase of wealth and in
telligence had given to the middling classes; who had witnessed,
during the preceding reigns, the encroachments of arbitrary power
on the ancient privileges of the people ; and who saw that the ac
cession of a new prince, involved in war, embarrassed with debt,
and guided by a weak and odious favorite, afforded them the best
opportunity to assert their rights, and to erect new barriers against
future usurpation. Accordingly, when called upon to replenish
the royal treasury, they began by voting a supply so limited as to
keep the court still dependent on the commons, and to secure for
themselves the vantage ground in negociating for the redress of
grievances. To the king's explanations of his necessities and bis
engagements they were inexorable ; and instead of giving money
to make him independent of his people, they joined in a petition
setting forth the causes of the increase of popery, with an enu
meration of such remedies as in their judgment ought to be ap-
* H. L' Estrange's View of King Charlcf , quoted in the " Selection from the
Harleian Miscellany,'' p. 331. London, 1793.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 39
plied. Among the remedies, they proposed ' that the preaching of
the word of God might be enlarged, and that to this purpose the
bishops be advised to make use of the labors of such able minis
ters as have been formerly silenced, advising and beseeching them
to behave themselves peaceably.' The king's answer was full of
compliance, especially and repeatedly promising that the laws
against popery should be put in execution ; and the next day his
special warrant releasing eleven popish priests from prison, gave
them a practical illustration of his fidelity to his engagements. A
law was passed (which was never executed, and which the king not
many years afterwards set aside by proclamation) for the preven
tion of unlawful pastimes on the Lord's day. Some other procee
dings helped to show the strong and determined spirit of the com
mons in relation to the questions between the party of the court
and the prelates on the one hand, and the party of the people and
the puritans on the other. The king saw that if such a parlia
ment continued he must be content with the condition of a limited
monarch, and must secure the affections of the people by conduct
ing his administration for their benefit. Determined not to yield,
he dissolved the parliament, and made a feeble and unpopular ef
fort to raise money by way of loan, taxing individuals according
to their estimated ability, and promising repayment at the end of
eighteen months.
The resources thus secured were soon exhausted in an ill-con
ducted and abortive enterprise, the object of which was to inter
cept and plunder the Spanish fleet as it returned laden with the
product of-the mines of South America. Another parliament was
called, which, like the preceding, first voted a limited supply, and
then immediately took up the subject of grievances. An impeach
ment of the duke of Buckingham, the obnoxious prime minister,
was undertaken with much zeal. The king who seems to have
had little knowledge of the genius of the nation which he govern
ed, and as little of the principles of human nature, took every op
portunity to manifest his contempt of the commons. Besides
lesser measures of irritation, he imprisoned two members of the
house, employed as managers of the impeachment ; and then was
obliged to release them. He sent his commands to the house to

40 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
enlarge and finish the bill for a supply ; for, though the supply was
voted, it had not yet become a law. At the same time he threat
ened them, both by a message, and in the speeches of his minis
ters, that if he found them still uncomplying he should try " new
counsels."* After a short session the parliament was dissolved,
before any important business had been finished, before even the
vote for a supply had been passed into a law.
There was an interval of two years before the assembling of
another parliament. In this interval the king made some experi
ment of the new counsels which he had threatened. Various ir
regular and arbitrary measures were employed to provide a reve
nue. These were of course unpopular, and were pursued with
characteristic inefficiency, till, by the event of a battle on the con
tinent, a new emergency arose in the king's affairs. Then, the
want of money in the treasury having become more pressing, and
the insufficiency of halfway measures more glaring than ever, an
act of council was passed and duly promulgated, demanding of
each subject just what he would have paid had the proposed sup
ply been granted by the parliament. The people, however, were
informed for their satisfaction that the sums exacted were to be
called loans and not taxes. To enforce the payment of this reve
nue, soldiers were quartered upon the refractory ; and he who de
clined lending his money to the king, found that refusal was likely
to cost more than submission. Those who went so far as to per
suade or encourage others to refuse, were thrown into prison. Ap
peal was made to the law, against such invasion of personal liberty;
* " I pray you consider," said Sir Dudley Carleton, vice chamberlain, in the
house of commons, " what these new counsels are, or may be. -I fear to de
clare those that I conceive. In all christian kingdoms, you know that parlia
ments were in use anciently, by which those kingdoms were governed in a
most nourishing manner ; until the monarchs began to know their own strength,
and seeing the turbulent spirit of their parliaments, at length they, by little
and little, began to stand on their prerogatives, and at last overthrew the par
liaments throughout Christendom, except here only with us. Let us be care
ful, then, to preserve the king's good opinion of parliaments, which bringeth
such happiness to the nation, and makes us envied of all others, while there is
this sweetness between his majesty and the comm'Ogs ; lest we lose the repute
of a free people, by our turbulency in parliament."" Hume's History of Eng
land. Vol. III. pp. 360,361. Philad. 1828.

LIFE OF RtCHARD BAXTER. 41
but the courts of justice, newly organized by the king to meet the
emergency, refused to sustain the appeal.
At the same time, that usurpation might not want the sanctions.
of religion, the court clergy were employed to aid these despotic
proceedings, by preaching up the duty of passive obedience and
the divine right of kings to govern without check or responsibility.
Among these, one Dr. Sibthorp became distinguished by circum
stances. Having preached on some public occasion, a sermon full
of the court doctrine, he dedicated it to the king, and carried it to
Archbishop Abbot to be licensed for the press. The good old pri
mate, who was half a puritan and altogether a protestant, refused
to sanction such doctrine, and was therefore suspended' from the
functions of his office, and compelled to retire in disgrace to a
country residence. Another of these preachers, Dr. Manwaring,
was distinguished still more, not only by the boldness with which
he carried out his principles, but by the favor with which he was
regarded by the court. In two sermons preached before the king,
and published by the king's command, he taught among other mat
ters as follows ; " The king is not bound to observe the laws of
the realm concerning the subject's rights and liberties, but his royal
will and pleasure, in imposing taxes without consent of parliament,
doth oblige the subjects conscience on pain of damnation." These
were the doctrines which the dominant party in the church took
pains to propagate in that day of usurpation and national danger.
While the nation was in this state of angry and growing excite
ment, the king, — as if a war with the house of Austria, which then
governed both Spain and Germany, were not embarrasment enough,
— engaged in a new war with France, merely to gratify the caprice
and passion of his favorite. One expedition was fitted out under
the command of Buckingham,which speedily terminated in disaster
and shame. Nothing now remained for the baffled monarch, but
to try once more the expedient of calling the great council of the
kingdom. The third parliament of this reign accordingly met in March 1628.
At the opening of this parliament, the king, instead of making an ac
knowledgment of his past errors, or any promise of a more liberal
and legal administration in future, boldly declared, as if the absolute
Vol. I. 6

48 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
power at which he was aiming were already consolidated, that if
they failed in their duty of providing for the necessities of the state,
"he must, in discharge of his conscience, use those other means
which God had put into his hands." And the same claims of pow
er were advanced under his direction, in language still more di
rect and offensive, by some of his ministers. Thus evident was it
that the king, nothing wiser by experience, was still bent on chang
ing the constitution of the kingdom, and removing every limitation
of his power. In these circumstances, the parliament conducted
themselves with a deliberate and prudent firmness which deserves the
highest admiration. They began by voting a supply, which Charles
himself, moved to tears by a liberality almost unexpected, acknowl
edged to be ample ; but they wisely refused to pass their vote into
a law, till the king after much reluctance and many a pitiful evasion,
had given -his unqualified assent to a bill called the " petition of
right," which they had framed with reference to the late arbritary
measures of the court, in the hope of securing in future the ancient
privileges of Englishmen. But while Buckingham retained his as
cendancy, they could feel no security. They went on with the
the investigation of abuses, and soon presented a remonstrance re
capitulating the public grievances and national disasters of the reign,
and ascribing them all to the mismanagement of Buckingham. As
they were proceeding in another remonstrance, the session was
suddenly closed by a prorogation.
In one particular, of no great moment in itself, but worthy to be
noticed, on account of its significance, the court immediately after
this prorogation showed its contempt for the voice of parliament,
and its persevering and daring adherence to the principles of des
potism. The lords, on the impeachment of the commons, had
condemned Dr. Manwaring, for his sermons above mentioned, to
be imprisoned during the pleasure of the house, to be fined a thou
sand pounds, to make submission and acknowledgment, to be sus
pended three years, and to be incapable of holding any ecclesias
tical dignity, or secular office. As soon as the session was closed,
the condemned criminal was not only pardoned by the king, but,
as if he had earned a reward, was preferred to a valuable living,
and a few years afterwards raised to a bishopric. About the same

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 43
time, Sibthorp received a similar reward ; and Montague, another
preacher and author of the same school, who like Manwaring was
under the censure of parliament, was elevated to a seat among the
bishops. Demonstration was thus afforded, that the king after all
his concessions, was still in principle a despot.
Not long after the prorogation of the parliament, all further pro
ceedings against Buckingham, and all his schemes of mischief, were
arrested by the dagger of an insane assassin. From this time the
prime minister in church and state, was William Laud, then bishop
of London, and soon afterwards archbishop of Canterbury.
When the parliament came together according to prorogation,
early in the following year, (1629) they found new evidence of
the king's unfaithfulness, evidence which must have wrought in
many a mind the conviction that no confidence could be reposed
in either his concessions or his promises. Not only had unautho
rized taxes been levied, and illegal punishments been inflicted, as
before, but the all-imporfant petition of right, as published by au
thority, instead of bearing that unqualified royal assent which made
it a law, had, annexed to it, only an evasive and unmeaning answer
from the king, which the parliament had refused to acknowledge
as satisfactory. By such treacheries, so weak, so profligate, so
contemptible, did this ill-starred monarch forfeit the confidence of
his people and make his own ruin inevitable. After all that had
now been developed, what cordiality or co-operation could there
be, between the king and the parliament. Whatever followed was
only the necessary result of what had gone before. The king was
determined, and so were the people. The king was determined
to be independent and absolute. The people were determined to
submit to no authority but that which was lawful. The result
could not have been avoided but by the people's abandoning their
rights, and lying down to be trodden into the earth by the iron
hoof of usurpation, or by the king's abandoning his principles,
and becoming, what so few kings have ever been, a plain and
honest lover of his country.
A bill had been introduced into the house of commons, for
granting to the king, what he had levied from the beginning of
his reign without law and against many complaints both of par-

44 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
liament and of people, the customary taxes on commerce. But
before passing the bill, the house, for the sake of securing an im
portant principle, insisted that the unauthorized collection of this
revenue should cease. This the king refused ; and his custom
house officers proceeded with their collections. The officers were
summoned to the bar of the house ; but the king sent a message
to the commons, implying that he was responsible for the acts com
plained of. The house were still bent on proceeding ; but the
speaker having received orders from the king, refused to put the
question. A short protestation was framed and passed by accla
mation, while the speaker was forcibly detained in the chair ; and
the house was then adjourned by the king's authority. Immedi
ately afterwards the parliament was dissolved. And soon a procla
mation was published, in which the king very clearly avowed his
intention to have no more to do with parliaments for the present.
For the twelve succeeding years, Charles reigned, very much as
he had always been trying to reign, the absolute monarch. Under
this new constitution, as it might be called, the Council was the le
gislative, and the Star Chamber and High Commission were the
most important branches of the judiciary. The king's proclama
tions and orders in council were the law of the land. By this au
thority, not only the ancient taxes of tonnage and poundage, against
which parliament had protested, were continued, but new imposts
were collected. Under the name of ship-money, direct taxes
were levied for the support of the navy. Numerous and odious
monopolies were erected ; and other measures for providing a
revenue were resorted to. For every disobedience to the law en
acted at the council-table, the offender was liable to be tried before
the same persons assembled in the star-chamber, and to be pun
ished with fine, imprisonment, pillory, or mutilation, at the discre
tion of the court. The fines imposed by this court seem to have
been no inconsiderable part of the ways and means. The high
commission was an ecclesiastical court erected on the basis of the
king's supremacy, which, contrary to acts of parliament and judi
cial sentences, had usurped the power of fining, imprisoning, and
inflicting corporal punishment for ecclesiastical offenses. It was
during this twelve years despotism that those Puritans fled from

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 45
England, who settled the New-England colonies. Four thousand
persons became voluntary exiles, rather than submit to the system
which then prevailed in the church and state. Some indication of
the character and standing of these exiles is afforded by the fact
that their removal is supposed to have drawn from the kingdom,
money to the amount of four or five hundred thousand pounds.
All this apparatus of despotism was under the control of Laud ;
and he employed it all, with the zeal of a fanatic, to root out puri-
tanism, and to promote those popish principles and practices, with
which (though himself an enemy to the court of Rome) he was so
enamored. The mind of Charles was one of that class to which such
notions (lifeyrrfost congenial. Heverily thought, as Laud did, that a
puritan was far worse than a papist ; and that among all the errors of
the church of Rome there was not one so deadly as the error of
supposing that there might be a true church without prelates or
priestly vestments, and without liturgy or pompous ceremonies.
It was therefore no difficult matter for the primate to persuade the
monarch that he would be doing God service by stretching his pre
rogative to introduce into Scotland, not only the entire hierarchy,
but the liturgy and ceremonies of the church of England. The
insane attempt roused that jealous and turbulent people to rebel
lion. A solemn covenant for mutual defence and support, and for
the entire reformation of their national church from popery and
prelacy, was subscribed with oaths by willing thousands, and
proved a bond of union which all the art and power of the English
court were unable to dissolve. The king having accumulated from
the surplus of illegal taxation a treasure of two hundred thousand
pounds, raised an army to reduce the covenanters to obedience.
The queen at the same time made an appeal to the catholics of
England for help in this emergency ; and they came forward with
abundant free will offerings, thus helping to fix the impression on
the public mind that the question to be decided by arms, was in
fact the question between protestantism on the one hand and a re
turn to popery on the other.
One grand infirmity in Charles' character was an extreme obsti
nacy of purpose, conjoined with the utmost vaccilation of conduct ;
and never perhaps was that infirmity more strikingly exhibited than

46 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
in his management at this crisis. The enterprise of forcing English
uniformity on the presbyterians of Scotland, was one of which he
might have said beforehand, " The attempt and not the deed con
founds us ;" and had he been endowed with the talent, as he
was impelled by the spirit of usurpation, he would have seen that if
once embarked on such a project, he had no alternative but success
or ruin. Having made great preparation, he marched in person, at
the head of a numerons army to the Scottish frontier. There, with
out hazarding a single action, he made a treaty with the covenan
ters, in which he yielded nearly every thing they could ask for;
and at once disbanded his army. Then suddenly, when he began
to feel the operation of his own concessions, he recommenced hos
tilities without an army and without the means of raising one, his
last resources having been expended in the previous operations.
In these circumstances of weakness and humiliation, after eleven
years of arbitrary government, he resolved on calling another par
liament. But that there might be no opportunity to form com
plaints against his administration, he fixed the time of meeting just
before the time for the opening of the campaign. The par
liament however, when assembled, gave no heed to the king's ur
gency for an immediate supply of money ; but proceeded, as
formerly, to the consideration of the public grievances. After a
few days debate they Were dissolved without having done any thing ;
and the only result was that the necessities of the king were more
embarrassing, and the excitement of the nation deeper and more
alarming. The old course of illegal taxation and illegal punish
ment was pursued with renewed violence ; and matters were fast
ripening for civil war.
In this crisis it was that the convocation of the clergy, which
according to immemorial custom had been in session during the ses
sion of parliament, continued its proceedings by a doubtful autho
rity, and enacted a new body of " constitutions and canons eccle
siastical," the grand object of which was the more grievous op
pression of the puritans. One of these canons made it the duty
of every minister to read publicly, once in three months, a certain
prescribed declaration of the divine institution of absolute monar
chy. Another decreed not only excommunication, but a further

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 47
punishment in the star-cnamber, against every person who should
" import, print, or disperse" any book written against the discipline
and government of the church of England. Another enjoined it
on all public preachers to preach twice a year, " positively and
plainly, that the rites and ceremonies of the church of England
are lawful, and that it is the duty of all people to conform to them."
But the most obnoxious of these canons, was that which prescri
bed an oath to be taken by all ecclesiastical persons, on pain first
of suspension, and, after two months, of deprivation. Those who
received this oath swore not only that they approved the doctrine,
discipline, and government established in the church of England,
but that they never would consent to any alteration. The de
sign was, to cast out and silence every minister in the kingdom,
who entertained any scruple in regard to the perfection of the
church as it was then constituted and governed. But the mad
zeal of those who framed and imposed this test defeated its own
purpose, and strengthened instead of suppressing the cause ofthe
puritans. One clause ofthe oath was as follows, " Nor will I give
my consent to alter the government of this church by archbishops,
bishops, deacons and archdeacons, etc. as it stands now established,
and by right out to stand." Frcm the et cetera in this clause, the
oath was denominated the Et cetera oath. It wakened a new and
earnest dispute throughout the kingdom ; and many who had sub
mitted, without scruple, to every previous exaction ofthe hierarchy,
were roused to resistance by the attempt to force upon them an
oath so sweeping in what it did express, and with an et cetera in
the middle that might be made to mean any thing or every thing
that had been left unexpressed.
It was not long after Baxter's settlement at Bridgenorth, that
these canons were published. He speaks of the oath as having
threatened his expulsion. It occasioned much debate among the
ministers of that county, though as has been already stated, ihey
were generally satisfied with conformity. A meeting of these minis
ters was held at Bridgenorth for consultation. The greater number
were against the oath, and were resolved not to take it. Baxter
was led by this debate to a new investigation of the whole subject

48 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
of episcopacy, and of the government of the English church. He
read several important works, on both sides of the question, which
he had not seen before. The result of his inquiries was, that ' though
he found not sufficient evidence to prove all episcopacy unlawful, yet
he was much satisfied that the English diocesan frame was guilty of
the corruption of churches and ministry, and of the ruin of the true
church discipline.' A similar effect was produced on many oiher
minds. Indeed so evidently unfavorable to the cause of prelacy,
was the imposition of this oath, that, though the archbishop
was disposed to press it to the utmost, the king soon gave order
that there should be " no prosecution thereof till the next meeting
of the convocation." Thus the matter was dropped ; and Baxter
and a multitude of others similarly situated, were permitted still to
preach the gospel.
He had hardly escaped from this danger, when another incident
seemed likely to deprive him of the privilege of laboring as a min
ister of Christ. The earl of Bridgewater, Lord President of the
marches of Wales, passed through Bridgenorth on his way to join
the king in his expedition against the Scots ; and, arriving there
on Saturday at evening, he was informed by some malicious per
sons, that both Mr. Baxter and Mr, Madstard his colleague, were
guilty of non-conformity in respect to the sign of the cross and
wearing the surplice, and that neither of them prayed against the
Scots. The Lord President was a man having authority, and these
were charges of no trivial guilt. He told the accusers he would
himself attend church the next day, and see whether the ministers
would do these things or not. Nothing was expected but that
both would be deprived. But suddenly the Lord President
changed his purpose and proceeded on his journey ; and the re
sult was, the malice of the accusers was baffled.
The king's second expedition against the covenanters of Scot
land was more disastrous than the first. His army, undisciplined
and discontented, after one slight skirmish fled as in a panic from the
Tweed to York ; and the Scots took possession of the three north
ern counties of England. Among the requests which the success
ful invaders sent to the king, addressing him in the most respectful
language, and with many protestations of fidelity to his person,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 49
was one that he would call an English parliament to Bettle the
peace between the two kingdoms. All the desires and hopes of
England were for a parliament. Twelve peers attending on the
king at York, presented their petition that a parliament might be
called. Another petition to the same effect, came from London.
After a little more delay, in the vain hope of some change by which
he might escape from what he so much feared and hated, he
yielded to the dire necessity ; and to the universal joy of an op
pressed and indignant nation, a parliament was summoned.
This assembly, celebrated in history as the Long Parliament,
was opened November 3, 1640 ; and immediately proceeded with
a high hand to the redress of grievances. Their confidence in the
king was lost beyond recovery ; they believed the constitution of
the kingdom to have been subverted ; and as they went on in the
work of reformation, they insensibly'came to consider themselves as
bound not only to correct existing abuses, by strong, and if need
be, violent measures, but also to limit the power of the monarch
by new restraints, and to guard the liberties of the people against
the possibility of future invasion. That the king had justly for
feited the confidence of his people ; and that his conduct, for at
least twelve years, had betrayed a settled design to change the
constitution, admits of no serious question. That there are cases
of usurpation, in which the bonds of allegiance are dissolved, and
the people are left to institute, in such manner as convenience dic
tates, new forms of government, is a maxim undisputed in modern
politics. Whether the case in which the parliament now found
themselves was one of this description ; whether the king's sub
version of the old constitution justified them in irregularly framing
a new one, is a question which still divides the opinions ofthe Eng
lish people, and which it is no part of the design of this narrative to
illustrate or decide.
At the very beginning of the session, the almost unanimous hos
tility of the members, against the administration in all its depart
ments, discovered itself. The topics of complaint, both civil and
ecclesiastical, were discussed in long and vehement speeches, many
of which were published and eagerly read throughout the nation.
Vol. 1. 7

50 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
The principal advisers of the crown, especially Strafford and Laud,
were impeached of high treason.
" The concord of this parliament consisted not in the unanimity
of the persons, for they were of several tempers as to matters of
religion, but in the complication of the interest of those causes
which they severally did most concern themselves in." For as
the king's illegal and violent proceedings in tbe state, had run par
allel with Laud's popish impositions on the church ; so " the par
liament consisted of two sorts of men, who, by the conjunction of
these causes, were united in their votes and endeavors for a refor
mation. One party made no great matter of these alterations in
the church ; but they said if parliament were once down, and our
propriety gone, and arbitrary government set up, and law subjected
to the prince's will, we were then all slaves ; and this they made a
a thing intolerable, for the remedying of which, they said, every
true Englishman could think no price too dear. These the people
called, ' good commonwealth's men.' The other sort were the
more religious men, who were also sensible of all these things, but
were much more sensible of the interest of religion ; and these
most inveighed against the innovations in the church, the bowing to
altars, (enjoined and enforced by the prelates) the book for sports
on Sundays, the casting out of ministers, the troubling of the peo
ple by the high-commission court, the pillorying and cutting off
men's ears for speaking against the bishops, the putting down lec
tures and afternoon sermons and expositions on the Lord's days,
with such other things, which they thought of greater weight than
ship-money. But because these latter agreed with the former in
the vindication of the people's propriety and liberties, the former
did the easilier concur with them against the proceedings of the
bishops and high-commission court."*
Petitions and complaints against arbitrary power in state and
church, came in from every quarter. Many proceedings of the
star-chamber and high-commission courts were revised and con
demned by the house of commons. Individuals who had been
fined immense sums, and pilloried, and mutilated, and condemned
to perpetual imprisonment, were brought out from distant places of
* Narrative, Part I. p. 18.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 51
confinement, and conducted to London with popular acclamations,
and as in a triumphal procession. A bill of attainder was passed
against Strafford, to which the king with much reluctance, and after
some alarming demonstrations of the popular fury, at last gave
his assent ; and the blood of Charles' ablest, and with but one
exception, most arbitrary minister was shed on the scaffold.
At the same time the king assented to a bill which made the
parliament incapable of dissolution, save by its own consent, thus
changing at once the constitution of the government. The high-
commission, star-chamber, and other arbitrary courts were soon
afterwards abolished. Not many months elapsed before the bish
ops were deprived of their seats in the house of lords. Thus one
encroachment after another was made on the royal power, the
king meanwhile, as formerly, pursuing no uniform course of con
duct, but acting now from fear and now from pride or anger, as one
passion or another was excited by present circumstances. Mutual
distrust and irritation proceeded ; every preparation was gradually-
made by both parties, for an appeal to arms ; and at last on the 22d
of August 1 642 the king set up his standard, and a civil war was
begun. But we have run before our narrative of Baxter's personal history.
One of the measures of reform undertaken by the parliament,
was the appointment of a committee to receive petitions and com
plaints against scandalous clergymen. As soon as this was known,
petitions were brought forward from all quarters. At a later pe
riod, ministers were removed by parliament for political offences ;
but at the time now referred to, no encouragement was given for
complaints against any minister except for insufficiency, false doc
trine, illegal innovations, or scandal. The chairman of this com
mittee published the names of a hundred of these ministers with
their places and the articles proved against them, " where," says
Baxter, " so much ignorance, insufficiency, drunkenness, filthiness,
etc. was charged upon them, that many moderate men could have
wished that their nakedness had been rather hid, and not exposed
to the world's decision."
The inhabitants of Kidderminster in Worcestershire, following
the example of other towns, prepared a petition against their minis
ters, the vicar and his two curates, all of whom were decidedly un-

52 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
qualified for the sacred office. The vicar, whose name was
Dance, foreseeing how such a petition in relation to him would ter
minate, proposed a compromise with the people. By the media
tion of Sir Henry Herbert, Baxter's old patron at Whitehall, then
member of parliament, an agreement was finally made that the vi
car should dismiss the curate who assisted him in the town, and
should allow sixty pounds yearly to such preacher as a committee
of fourteen named by die complainants should choose. The min
ister thus elected was not to be hindered from preaching at any
time; and the vicar was to read the common prayer, as usual, and
to do whatever else was to be done. So the petition was with
drawn and the vicar kept his place, which, after the allowance
stipulated for a preacher, was still worth two hundred pounds per
annum. To this place Baxter was invited on the 9th of March 1641.
" My mind," he says, " was much to the place as soon as it was
described to me ; because it was a full congregation, and most con
venient temple ; an ignorant rude and reveling people for the
greater part, who had need of preaching, and yet had among them
a> small company of converts, who were humble, godly, and of
good conversation, and not much hated by the rest and therefore
the fitter to assist their teacher ; but above all because they had
hardly ever had any lively, serious preaching among them. For
Bridgenorth had made me resolve that I would never more go
among a people that had been hardened in unprofitableness under
an awakening ministry ; but either to such as had never had any
convincing preacher or to such as had profited by him. As soon
as I came to Kidderminster, and had preached there one day, I
was chosen, nemine contradicente ; for though fourteen only had the
power of choosing, they desired to please the rest. And thus I
was brought by the gracious providence of God to that place which
had the chiefest of my labors, and yielded the greatest fruits of
comfort. And I noted the mercy of God in this that I never went
to any place in my life, among all my changes, which I had be
fore desired, or thought of, much less sought ; but only to those
that I never thought of till the sudden invitation did surprise me."
The sequel of his life will show in what manner and with what

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 53
success he labored in this place. At the beginning of his labors
here, he found himself the object of much jealousy and hatred on
the part of the ignorant rabble of the town. Some instances of
their malice he records ; the same idle ridicule, the same perverse
misrepresentations, the same lying reports, with which drunkards
and scorners are wont to assail serious and faithful ministers in
these days, were employed against him. He lived, however, to
see the party of the tippling and profane, very much diminished
under his influence.
In connection with the commencement of his labors at Kidder-
minister, he adverts again to those bodily infirmities under which
he had all along been suffering. These, he says, " were so great
as made me live and preach in some continual expectation of death,
supposing still that I had not long to live ; and this I found through
all my life to be an invaluable mercy to me : For,
"1. It greatly weakened temptations.
" 2. It kept me in a great contempt of the world.
" 3. It taught me highly to esteem of time ; so that if any of it
passsed away in idleness or unprofitableness, it was so long a pain
and burden to my mind. So that I must say to the praise of my
most wise conductor, that time hath still seemed to me much more
precious than gold or any earthly gain, and its minutes have not
been despised, nor have I been much tempted to any of the sins
which usually go by the name of pastime, since I understood my
work. " 4. It made me study and preach things necessary, and a little
stirred up my sluggish heart, to speak to sinners with some com
passion, as a dying man to dying men.
"These, with the rest which I mentioned before when I spake
of my infirmities, were the blessings which God afforded me by af
fliction. I humbly bless his gracious providence, who gave me his
treasure in an earthen vessel, and trained me up in the school of
affliction, and taught me the cross of Christ so soon."*
Amid these distresses of the body, the blessed effects of which,
he acknowledged in his old age so gratefully, his mind was not
*Narrative, Part I. p. 21'

54 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
always free from even severe and painful conflicts. The trials of
such a believer, and the processes by which his faith advanced to
ward perfection, are always instructive. The following record will
not be read without interest. It was by such inward struggles, pro
bably, that he acquired those clear and discriminating views of
christian character, as well as christian truth, by which his writings
are distinguished.
" At one time above all the rest, being under a new and unusual
distemper, which put me upon the present expectations of my
change, and going for comfort to the promises as I was used, the
tempter strongly assaulted my faith, and would have drawn me to
wards infidelity itself. Till 1 was ready to enter into the ministry,
all my troubles had been raised, by the hardness of my heart, and
the doubtings of my own sincerity ; but now all these began to
vanish, and never much returned to this day ; and instead of these,
I was now assaulted by more pernicious temptations ; especially to
question the truth of the sacred scriptures, and also the life to
come and immortality of the soul. And these temptations assault
ed me not as they do the melancholy, with horrid vexing importu
nity ; but by pretence of sober reason, they would have drawn me
to a settled doubting of Christianity.
" And here I found my own miscarriage and the great mercy of
God. My miscarriage, in that I had so long neglected the well
settling of my foundations, while 1 had bestowed so much time in
the superstructures and the applicatory part. For having taken it
for an intolerable evil, once to question the truth of the scriptures and
the life to come, I had either taken it for a certainty upon trust, or
taken up with common reasons of it, which I had never well con
sidered, digested, or made mine own. Insomuch as when this
temptation came, it seemed at first to answer and enervate all the
former reasons of my feeble faith, which made me to take the
scriptures for the word of God ; and it set before me such moun
tains of difficulty in the incarnation, the person of Christ, his un
dertaking and performance, with the scripture chronology, histo
ries and style, etc. which had stalled and overwhelmed me, if God
had not been my strength. And here I saw much of the mercy
of God, that he let not out these terrible temptations upon me,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 55
while I was weak and in the infancy of my faith ; for then I had
never been able to withstand them. But faith is like a tree, whose
top is small while the root is young and shallow : and therefore,
as then it hath but small rooting, so is it not liable to the shaking
winds and tempests, as the big and high-grown trees are : but as
the top groweth higher, so the root at once grows greater, and
deeper fixed, to cause it to endure its greater assault.
" Though formerly I was wont when any such temptation came,
to cast it aside, as fitter to be abhorred than considered of, yet now
this would not give me satisfaction ; but I was fain to dig to the
very foundations, and seriously to examine the reasons of Christian
ity, and to give a hearing to all that could be said against it, that so
my faith might be indeed my own. And at last I found that, Nil
tarn cerium quam quod ex dubio certum; nothing is so firmly belie
ved as that which hath been sometime doubted of.
" In the storm of this temptation, I questioned a while whether
1 were indeed a christian or an infidel, and whether faith could
consist with such doubts as I was conscious of: for I had read in
many papists and protestants, that faith had certainty and was more
than an opinion ; and that if a man should live a godly life, from the
bare apprehensions of the probability ofthe truth of scripture, and the
life to come, it would not save him, as being no true godliness or fiath.
But my judgment closed with the reason of Dr. Jackson's deter
mination of this case, which supported me much, that as in the
very assenting act of faith there may be such weakness, as may
make ns cry, "Lord increase our faith; we believe, Lord, help
our unbelief;" so when faith and unbelief are in their conflict, it
is the effects which must show us which of them is victorious. And
that he that hath so much faith, as will cause him to deny himself,
take up his cross, and forsake all the profits, honors, and pleasures
of this world, for the sake of Christ, the love of God, and the
hope of glory, hath a saving faith, how weak soever ; for God can
not condemn the soul that truly loveth and seeketh him : and those
that Christ bringeth to persevere in the love of God, he bringeth
to salvation. And there were diverse things, that in this assault
proved great assistance to my faith.
" 1 . That the being and attributes of God were so clear to me,

56 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
that he was to my intellect what the sun is to my eye, by which 1
see itself and all things. And he seemed mad to me, who ques
tioned whether there were a God." " All the suppositions ofthe
atheists, have ever since been so visibly foolish and shameful to my
apprehension, that I scarce find a capacity in myself of doubting of
them ; and whenever the tempter hath joined any thing of. these
with the rest of his temptations, the rest have been the easier over
come, because ofthe overwhelming evidences of a Deity which are
always before the eyes of my soul.
" 2. And it helped me much to discover that this God must
needs be related to us as our owner, our governor, and our bene
factor, in that he is related to us as our creator ; and that therefore
we are related to him as his own, his subjects, and his benificiaries ;
which as they all proceed by undeniable resultancy from our crea
tion and nature, so thence do our duties arise which belong to us in
those relations, by as undeniable resultancy ; and that no show of
reason can be brought by any infidel in the world to excuse the
rational creature from loving his Maker, with all his heart and soul
and might, and devoting himself and all his faculties to him from
whom he did receive them, and making him his ultimate end who
is his first efficient cause. So that godliness is a duty so undenia
bly required in the law of nature, and so discernible by reason it
self, that nothing but unreasonableness can contradict it.
" 3. And then it seemed utterly improbable to me that this God
should see us to be losers by our love and duty to him, and that
our duty should be made our snare, or make us the more misera
ble by how much the more faithfully we perform it. And I saw
that the very possibility of a life to come would make it the duty
of a reasonable creature to seek it though with the loss of all below.
" 4. And I saw by undeniable experience, a strange universal
enmity between the heavenly and the earthly mind, the godly and
the wicked." " And I saw that the wicked and haters of godli
ness are so commonly the greatest and most powerful and nume
rous, as well as cruel, that ordinarily there is no living according to
the precepts of nature and undeniable reason, without being made
the derision and contempt of men."
" 5. And then I saw that there is no other religion in the world,

LIFE OF 1UCUARD BAXTER. 57
which can stand in competition with Christianity. Heathenism and
Mohametanism are kept up by tyranny, and blush to stand at the
bar of reason ; and Judaism is but Christianity in the egg or bud ;
and mere Deism, which is the most plausible competitor, is so
turned out of almost the whole world, as if nature made its own
confession, that without a Mediator it cannot come to God.
" 6. And I perceived that all other religions leave the people
in their worldly, sensual, and ungodly state." " And the nations
where Christianity is not, are drowned in ignorance and earthly
mindedness, so as to be the shame of nature.
" 7. And I saw that Christ did bring up all his serious and sin
cere disciples to real holiness and to heavenly mindedness, and
made them new creatures, and set their hearts and designs and
hopes on another life, and brought their senses into subjection to
their reason, and taught them to resign themselves to God, and to
love him above all the world. And it is not like that God will
make use of a deceiver for this real visible recovery and reformat
tion of the nature of man ; or that any thing but his own zeal can
imprint his image.
" 8. And here I saw an admirable suitableness in the office and
design of Christ, to the ends of God, and the felicity of man ;
and how excellently these supernatural revelations do fall in, and
take their place in subserviency to natural verities ; and how won
derfully faith is fitted to bring men to the love of God, when it is
nothing else but the beholding of his amiable attractive love and
goodness in the face of Christ, and the promises of heaven, as in
a glass, till we see his glory.
" 9. And I had felt much of the power of his word and spirit
on myself, doing that which reason now telleth me must be done.
And shall I question my physician when he hath done so much of
the cure, and recovered my depraved soul to God ?
" 1 0. And as I saw these assistances to -my faith, so I perceived
that whatever the tempter had to say against it, was grounded on
the advantages which he took from my ignorance, and my distance
from the times and places ofthe matters ofthe sacred history, and
such like things which every novice meetethwith in almost all other
sciences at the first, and which wise, well-studied men can see through.
Vol. I. 8

58 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" All these assistances were at hand before I came to the imme
diate evidences of credibility in the sacred oracles themselves.
And when I set myself to search for those, I found more in the
doctrine, the predictions, the miracles, than I ever before took no
tice of, which I shall not here so far digress as to set down, having
partly done it in several treatises."
" From this assault, I was forced to take notice that it is our belief
of the truth of the word of God and the life to come, which is the
spring that sets all grace on work, and with which it rises or falls,
flourishes or decays, is actuated or stands still ; and that there is
more of this secret unbelief at the root, than most of us are aware
of; and that our love of the world, our boldness with sin, our ne
glect of duly, are caused hence. I observed easily in myself that
if at any time Satan did, more than at other times, weaken my belief
of scripture and the life to come, my zeal in religious duty abated
with it, and I grew more indifferent in religion than before ; I was
more inclined to conformity in those points which I had taken to
be sinful, and was ready to think, why should I be singular and of
fend the bishops and my superiors, and make myself contemptible
in the world, and expose myself to censures, scorns and sufferings,
and all for such little things as these, when the foundations have
so great difficulties as I am unable to overcome? But when faith
revived, then none of the parts or concernments of religion seemed
small, and then man seemed nothing, and the world a shadow, and
God was all.
fi In the beginning, I doubted not ofthe truth ofthe holy scrip
tures or of the life to come, because I saw not the dirficultes which
might cause doubting. After that, I saw them, and I doubted be
cause I saw not that which should- satisfy the mind against them.
Since that, having seen both difficulties and evidences, though 1 am
not so unmolested as at first, yet is my faith, I hope, much stronger,
and far better able to repel the temptations of Satan and the sophisms
of infidels than before. But yet it is my daily prayer, that God
would increase my faith, and give my soul a clear sight of the ev
idences of his truth, and of himself, and of the invisible world."*

* Narrative, 1'arl 1. pp. 21, 24,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 59
It was a little more than a year after Baxter's coming to Kidder-
minister, when ihe war between the king and the parliament was
fairly begun. In his own narrative, he describes much at length,
the causes of the war, the character of the parties into which the
nation was divided, and the progress of events. He was himself
the sworn partizan of neither side ; his views were much more fa
vorable to the doctrine of non-resistance, than were those of his
friends ; and he ascribes the blame of the war to both parties. On
the side of the parliament, he blames, first, the indiscretion and
tumultuous proceedings of the people who adhered to them, par
ticularly in London, where their zeal broke out in acts of violence.
This, he attributes in a great measure to the bitter and angry spirit
of a few, who were yet " enough to stir up the younger and unex
perienced sort of religious people to speak too vehemently and in-
temperately against the bishops and the ceremonies, and to jeer
and deride at the common prayer and all that was against their
minds. For the young and raw sort of christians are usually prone
to this kind of sin ; to be self-conceited, petulant, wilful, censori
ous, and injudicious in all their management of their differences
in religion, and in all their attempts of reformation. Scorning and
clamoring at that which they think evil, they usually judge a war
rantable course. And it is hard finding any sort of people in the
world, where many of the most unexperienced are not indiscreet,
and proud, and passionate." This spirit among the people, he
says, occasioned the riotous proceedings referred to ; and every
such popular movement widened the breach and made the quar
rel more desperate. " Thus rash attempts of headstrong people,
do work against the good ends which they themselves intend ; and
the zeal which hath censorious strife and envy, doth tend to confu
sion and every evil work : and overdoing is the ordinary way
OF UNDOING."*
Another thing on the side of the parliament, which hastened the
war, and made it inevitable and irreconcilable, was the revolution
ary spirit of some of the active members, who encouraged the
disorders before mentioned, and were unwilling to rest at any point

?Narrative, Part Up p. 26, 27

60 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
short of the reduction of the whole system of church and state to
their notions.
To these causes he adds another, " the great distrust which the
parliament had of the king ;" but though he mentions this in the
catalogue of those particulars in which the parliament was blame
worthy, he neglects to show how the blame of this distrust conld
be imputed either to the parliament or to the people. " They
were confident," he says, and evidently they had good reason to
be confident, " that the king was unmovable as to his judgment
and affections ; and that whatever he granted them, was but in de
sign to get his advantage utterly to destroy them ; and that he did
but watch for such an opportunity. They supposed that he utterly
abhorred the parliament and their actions ; and therefore whatever
he promised them, tbey believed him not, nor durst take his word ;
which they were hardened in by those former actions of his, which
they called, the breach of his former promises."*
On the other side the quarrel was aggravated, and the war has
tened, first by a plot, in which the king was involved, to bring the
northern army to London, and thus to overawe and subdue the
parliament ; then by his undertaking to provide a guard, ostensibly
for the protection, but really for the restraint, of the house of com
mons ; next by the king's coming in person to the house, followed
by an armed retinue, with the design of seizing five members
whom he had accused of treason ; afterwards by the rash move
ments of some of the king's friends ; and more than all the rest,
by the supposed connection between the court and the rebellion of
the papists in Ireland, who had murdered two hundred thousand
protestants in that kingdom, and to whom the English catholics, fa
vored by the king, and known to be his zealous partizans in his
Whole controversy with the parliament, were looking with undis
guised sympathy and with ardent hopes for their success.
These, Baxter regarded- as the causes of mutual irritation, to
which the commencement of hostilities might be directly ascribed.
In this contest, the great body of the nobility were on the king's
side, especially after the war had actually begun. Not a few

r Narrative Part I. p. 27

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTKR. 61
members of the house of commons left their seats when they saw
that the ancient constitution of the kingdom was to be subverted.
A great party of the knights and men of family, the extensive and
hereditary landed proprietors, were with the king from the begin
ning ; and they with their tenantry constituted the strength of his
cause. To these were added most of the lowest and poorest
class of the people, the ignorant and vicious rabble every where.
On the side of the parliament, were a few of the nobility, some in
the highest rank ; and a very respectable minority of the country
knights and gentlemen. But the chief strength of the parliament
was in the middling classes, among the great body of the freehold
ers, and manufacturers, and merchants, the classes which since the
era of the reformation had acquired wealth and intelligence, and a
new importance in the nation.
In respect to religious principles and character, the parties differ
ed more widely, and the line of division was more distinctly
drawn, than in respect to rank. For " though the public safety
and liberty wrought very much with most, especially with the no
bility and gentry, who adhered to the parliament, it was principally
the differences about religious matters that filled up the parlia
ment's armies, and put the resolution and valor into their soldiers,
which carried them on in another manner than mercenary soldiers
are carried on. Not that the matter of bishops or no bishops, was
the main thing, for thousands that wished for good bishops were on
the parliament's side." " But the generality of the people through
the land, who were then called Puritans, Precisians, Religious per
sons, that used to talk of God, and heaven, and scripture, and
holiness, and to follow sermons, and read books of devotion, and
pray in their families, and spend the Lord's day in religious exer
cises, and plead for mortification, and serious devotion, and strict
obedience to God, and speak against swearing, cursing, drunken
ness, profaneness, Sic. ; I say the main body of this sort of men,
both preachers and people, adhered to the parliament. And on
the other side, the gentry that were not so precise and strict
against an oath, or gaming, or plays, or drinking ; nor troubled
themselves so much about the matters of God and the world to

62 Life of ricmahD baxtf.r.
come; dnd the ministers atid people that were for the king's book,*
for dancing and recreations on the Lord's days ; and those that
made not so great a matter of every sin, but went to church and
heard common prayer, and were glad to hear a sermon which
lashed the puritans ; and who ordinarily spoke against this strict
ness and preciseness in religion, and this strict observation of the
Lord's day, and following sermons, and praying extempore, and
talking so much of scripture and the matters of salvation ; and
those that hated and derided them that take these courses ; — the
main body of these were against the parliament. Not but that
some such, for money, or a landlord's pleasure, served them ; as
some few of the stricter sort were against them, or not for them ;
but I speak of the notable division through the land.
" If you ask how this came to pass, it requireth a longer answer
than I think fit here to give. But briefly ; actions spring from
natural dispositions and interest. There is somewhat in the na
ture of all worldly men which makes them earnestly desirous of
riches and honors in the world. They that value these things most
will seek them ; and they that seek them are more likely to find
them than those that despise them. He who takes the world and
preferment for his interest, will estimate and choose all means ac
cordingly ; and, where the world predominates, gain goes for god
liness, and serious religion which would mortify their sin, is their
* The "book of sports,'' frequently spoken of in tho history of those times,
was a royal proclamation, first drawn up by bishop Morton, .and published by
James I. in the year 1618, and afterwards at the instigation of arch-bishop
Laud republished by Charles I. iu the year 1633. The design of this procla
mation was to express his majesty's pleasure " that after the end of divine
service his good people should not be disturbed, letted or discouraged from any
lawful recreations, such as dancing, either of men or women, archery for men,
leaping, vaulting, or any such harmless recreations, nor from having may-games,
whitson-ales, or morr ice-dances, or setting up oi may-poles, or other sports there
with used, so as the same may be had in due and convenient time without im
pediment or let of divine service." When this proclamation was renewed by
Kino- Charles, it was ordered to be read in all the churches. Many of the
ministers refused to comply with this order, some of whom were suspended
for their disobedience. Others, after publishing the king's decree, immedi
ately read the fourth commandment, adding This is the law of God, the other
the injunction of man.

LH'K OF RHJUARD BAXTER. 6^
greatest enemy. Yet, conscience must be quieted, and reputation
preserved ; which cannot be done without some religion. There
fore, such a religion is necessary to them, as is consistent with a
worldly mind : which outside formality, lip service, lind hypocrisy)
are ; but seriousness, sincerity, and spirituality, are not. On the
other side, there is that in the new nature of a believer, which in
clined! him to things above, and causeth him to look at worldly
grandeur and riches as things more dangerous than desirable. He
is tiead to the world, and the world to him, by the cross of Christ.
No wonder, therefore, if few such attain great matters in the world,
or ever come to preferment or greatness on earth. And there is
somewhat in them which maketh them more fearful of displeasing
God than all the world, and will not give them leave to stretch
their consciences, or turn aside when the interest or the will of man
requireth it. And die laws of Christ, to which they are so devo
ted, are of such a stream as cannot suit with carnal interest. There
is a universal and radicated enmity between the carnal and the
spiritual. This enmity is found in England, as well as in other
countries between the godly and the worldly minds." " The vul
gar rabble of the carnal and profane, did every where hate them
that reproved their sin, and condemned them by a holy life."
" The vicious multitude of the ungodly called all Puritans that
were strict and serious in a holy life, were they ever so conforma
ble. So the same name in a bishop's mouth signified a non-con
formist, and in an ignorant drunkard's or swearer's mouth, a godly
obedient christian." " Now the ignorant rabble, hearing that the
bishops were against the Puritans, not having wit enough to know
whom they meant, were emboldened the more against all those
whom they called Puritans themselves; and their rage against the
godly was increased; and they cried up the bishops, partly be
cause they were against the Puritans, and partly because they
were earnest for that way of worship which they found most con*
sistent with their ignorance, carelessness, and sins. And thus the
interest of the diocesans, and of the profane and ignorant sort of
people, were unhappily twisted together in England."*
It is unnecessary to say on which side Baxter was enlisted.
* Narrative, Part I. pp. Jl, '.33,

64 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
The great conscientiousness with which he acted sufficiently ap
pears from his own review of the reasons which governed his de
cision. No doubt the same or similar reasons swayed the minds
of the great multitude of conscientious men with whom he was as
sociated in the cause which he espoused.
" For my own part, I freely confess that I was not judicious
enough in politics and law to decide this controversy. Being as
tonished at the Irish massacre, and persuaded fully both of the
parliament's good endeavors for reformation, and of their real dan
ger, my judgment of the main cause, much swayed my judgment
in the matter of the wars ; and the arguments a fine, et a natura,
et necessitate, which common wits are capable of discerning, did
too far incline my judgment in the cause of the war, before I well
understood the arguments from our particular laws. The conside
ration of the quality of the persons also, that sided for each cause,
did greatly work with me, and more than it should have done. I
verily thought that if that which a judge in court saith is law, must
go for law to the subject, as to the decision of that cause, though
the king send his broad seal against it ; then that which the parlia
ment saith is law, is law to the subject about the dangers of the
commonwealth, whatever it be in itself.
" I make no doubt that both parties were to blame, as it com
monly falleth out in most wars and contentions ; and I will not be
he that will justify either of them. I doubt not but the headiness
and rashness of the younger inexperienced sort of religious peo
ple, made many parliament men and ministers overgo themselves
to keep pace with those Hotspurs. No doubt but much indiscre
tion appeared, and worse than indiscretion in the tumultuous peti
tioners ; and much sin was committed in the dishonoring of the
king, and in the uncivil language against the bishops and liturgy of
the church. But these things came chiefly from the sectarian, se
parating spirit, which blew the coals among foolish apprentices.
And as the sectaries increased, so the insolence increased." " As
bishop Hall speaks against the justifying of the bishops, so do I
against justifying the parliament; ministers, or city. I believe many
unjustifiable things were done ; but I think that a few men among
them all, were the doers or instigators."

LIFE OF RICHARD -BAXTER."] 65
" But I then thought, whoever was faulty, the people's liberties
and safety should not be forfeited. I thought that all the subjects
were not guilty of all the faults of king or parliament when they
defended them : yea, that if both their causes had been bad, as
against each other ; yet that the subjects should adhere to that
party which most secured the welfare of the nation, and might de
fend the land under their conduct without owning all their cause.
"And herein I was then so zealous, that I thought it was a great
sin for men that were able to defend their country, to be neuters.
And I have been tempted since to think that I was a more compe
tent judge upon the place, when all things were before our eyes,
than I am in the review of those days and actions so many years
after, when distance disadvantaged! the apprehension."*
No American who justifies the revolution of 1776,— no Eng
lishman who justifies the revolution of 1680, — can doubt that Bax
ter and those with whom he acted, were at the beginning, in the
right. Their cause, though it was afterwards shipwrecked by their
ignorance and their dissensions, was the cause which will one day
triumph throughout all the world.
* Narrative Part I. p. 39.

Vol. 1.

PART SECOND.

The point at which the king ventured to make a stand against
the claims of the parliament, was when they demanded of him that
the militia of the kingdom should be put under the command of
men in whom they could confide, and whom they might nominate.
This was in their view essential to their personal safety, and equal
ly essential to secure the execution of the laws and the liberties of
the people. After some delay and some proposals for a compro
mise, the king, having in the mean time removed from London,
sent them a flat refusal. The two houses proceeded to form and
publish an ordinance, in which they named lieutenants for the coun
ties, conferring on them the command of the militia, and of all the
guards, garrisons, and forts of the kingdom. These lieutenants
were to obey the orders of the king signified by the two houses of
parliament. On the other hand the king, taking advantage of an
old statute, issued his commissions of array, appointing men of his
own choice in the several counties to array, muster, and train the
people. The date ofthe ordinance of parliament, was March 5th,
but no attempt was made to execute either that or the king's com
missions, till three months afterwards, or about two months before
the formal declaration of war. The setting up of these clashing
authorities was attended with some skirmishes in places where there
was something like a balance of strength between the two parties.
But generally, where the people had, with a decided majority, es
poused the causeof parliament, the militia acknowledged the autho
rity of their ordinance ; and Where the majority were for the king,
the commissions of array were put in execution.
That part of the country in which Baxter, resided, including

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 67
the three adjacent counties of Shropshire, Worcester, and Here
fordshire, was so generally devoted to the king that there was no
public movement in behalf of the parliament. And as these pre
parations for war went forward, it became necessary for him to re
treat from a scene of so much danger to those of his known cha
racter and principles. Some apprehension of the fury ofthe times
may be gathered more easily from a few particular incidents de
scribed in his own language, than from any more general state
ments. " About that time, the parliament sent down an order for the
demolishing of all statues and images of any of the three persons
in the blessed Trinity, or of the virgin Mary, which should be found
in churches, or on the crosses in church-yards. My judgment was
for the obeying of this order, thinking it came from just authority ;
but I meddled not in it, but left the church-warden to do what he
thought good. The church-warden, an honest, sober, quiet man,
seeing a crucifix upon the cross in the church-yard, set up a ladder
to have reached it, but it proved too short. While he was gone to
seek another, a erew of the drunken, riotous party of the town,
took the alarm, and run together with weapons to defend the cru
cifix and the church images, of which there were divers left since
the time of popery. The report was among them that I was the
actor, and it was me they sought ; but I was walking almost a mile
out of town, or else 1 suppose I had there ended my days. When
they missed me and the church-warden both, they went raving
about the streets to seek us. Two neighbors that dwelt in other
parishes, hearing that they sought my life, ran in among them to
see whether I were there ; and they knocked them both down in
the streets, and both of them are since dead, and I think never
perfecdy recovered that hurt. When they had foamed about half
an hour, and met with none of us, and were newly housed, I came
in from my walk, and hearing the people cursing me at their
doors, I wondered what the matter was, but quickly found how I
had escaped. The next Lord's day, I dealt plainly with them, and
laid open to them the quality of that action, and told them seeing
they so requited me as to seek my blood, I was willing to leave
them, and save them from that guilt. But the poor sots were so

68 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
amazed and ashamed, that they took on sorrily, and were loth to
part with me.
" About this time, the king's declarations were read in our mar
ket-place, and the reader, a violent country gentleman, seeing me
pass the streets, stopped and said, There goeth a traitor.
" And the commission of array was set afoot ; for the parlia
ment meddled not with the militia of that county, the Lord How
ard their lieutenant not appearing. Then the rage of the rioters
grew greater than before. And in preparation to the war, they
had got the word among them, ' Down with the round heads ;' in
somuch that if a stranger passed in many places, that had short
hair and a civil habit, the rabble presently cried, ' Down with the
round-heads,* and some they knocked down in the open streets.
" In this fury of the rabble, I was advised to withdraw a while
from home ; whereupon I went to Gloucester. As I passed but
through a corner of the suburbs of Worcester, they that knew me
not, cried, ' Down with the round-heads ;' and 1 was glad to spur
on to be gone. But when I came to Gloucester, among strangers
also that had never known me, I found a civil, courteous, and re
ligious people, as different from Worcester as if they had lived
under another government."*
The county of Gloucestershire was as unanimous for the cause
of the parliament, as Worcester was for the cause of the king. But
Baxter saw in the religious aspect of Gloucester, during his short
residence there, the beginnings of a spirit of division and sectari
anism, which afterwards produced in that city the most unhappy
effects. First there were a few Baptists, who, laboring to draw
disciples after them, occasioned an undesirable controversy. Then
came a good man, zealous for Independency, who formed another
separating party. Afterwards, Antinomianism was introduced.
And by such means the solid piety of the place was dwindled and
withered away.
After he had been at Gloucester about a month, some of his
friends came to him from Kidderminster, inviting him to return.
Their argument was, that the people would be sure to put the most
* Narrative, Parti, pp. 40,41.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 60
unfavorable construction on his continued absence. So, in the
hope of retaining his influence and prolonging his usefulness, even
in those stormy times, he went again to his work.
" When I came home," he says, " I found the beggarly drunk
en rout in a very tumultuating disposition ; and the superiors that
were for the king did animate them ; and the people of the place
who were accounted religious, were called round-heads, and open
ly reviled, and threatened as the king's enemies, though they had
never meddled in any cause against the king. Every drunken sot
that met any of them in the streets, would tell them, ' We shall take
an order with the Puritans ere long.' And just as at their shows,
and wakes, and stage-plays, when the drink and the spirit of riot
did work together in their heads, and the crowd encouraged one
another, so it was with them now : they were like tied mastiffs
newly loosed, and flew in the face of all that was religious, yea or
civil, which came in their way." " Yet after the Lord's day, when
they heard the sermon, they would a while be calmed, till they
came to the alehouse again, or heard any of their leaders hiss them
on, or heard a rabble cry, ' Down with the round-heads.' When
the wars began, almost all these drunkards went into the king's
army, and were quickly killed, so that scarce a man of them came
home again and survived the war."*
The war which had been opened a few weeks, was now actively
carried on in Baxter's immediate vicinity. The army of "belong
commanded by his nephew, Prince Rupert, and that of the parlia
ment commanded by the Earl of Essex, met in the county of
Worcester; and the first considerable battle in that long contest,
the battle of Edghill, was fought on a Lord's day, (October 23d,)
within Baxter's hearing while he was preaching in the pulpit of a
friend at Alcester, a few miles distant from the scene of conflict.
In such circumstances, he felt that the peaceful prosecution of
his work at Kidderminster was not to be thought of. " For my
self," he says, " I knew not what course to take. To live at home,
I was uneasy ; but especially now, when soldiers on one side or
other would be frequently among us, and we must still be at the
* Narrative, Part I. p. 46.

70 LIFE OF RICHA11D BAXTER.
mercy of every furious beast that would make a prey of us. I
had neither money nor friends : I knew not who would receive me
in any place of safety ; nor had I any thing to satisfy them for my
diet and entertainment. Hereupon I was persuaded, by one that
Was with me, to go to Coventry, where an old acquaintance, Mr.
Simon King, was minister ; so thither I went, with a purpose to
stay there till one side or other had got the victory, and the war
was ended, and then to return home again : for so wise in matters
of war was I, and all the country beside, that we commonly sup
posed that a very few days or weeks, by one or other battle, would
end the wars ; and I believe that no amall number of the parlia
ment men, had no more wit than to think so too. Here I stayed
at Mr. King's a month ; but the war was then as far from being
likely to end as before.
" While I was thinking what course to take in this necessity, the
committee and governor of the city desired me to stay with them,
and lodge in the governor's house, and preach to the soldiers. The
offer suited well with my necessities ; but I resolved that I would
not be chaplain to a regiment, nor take a commission : yet, if the
mere preaching of a sermon once or twice a week to the garrison
would satisfy them, I would accept of the offer, till 1 could go home
again. Here, accordingly, 1 lived in the governor's house, and follow
ed my studies as quietly as in a time of peace, for about a year ;
preapUSg once a week to the soldiers, and once, on the Lord's
Hay, to the people ; taking nothing from either but my diet."*
Meanwhile the war, instead of being brought to a conclusion, was
spreading its horrors over the whole land. A few counties were
so decidedly for the parliament, and a few others so decidedly for
the king, that they enjoyed comparative rest ; elsewhere every
man's hand was against his neighbor. Indeed in all places where
the parliament had not the ascendency, there was no security to
the country, " the multitude did what they list." " If any one was
noted for a strict and famous preacher, or for a man of precise and
pious life, he was either plundered, or abused and in danger of his
life. If a man did but pray in his family or were but heard repeat
* Narrative, Part I. pp. 4J. -14,

L1FF. OF KICHAKU BAXTER. 7t
a sermon, or sing a psalm, they presently cried out, rebels, round
heads ; and all their money and goods that were portable proved
guilty, how innocent soever they were themselves." This it was
that filled the armies and garrisons of the parliament with sober pious
men. "Thus when I was at Coventry, the religious part of my
neigbors at Kidderminster, that would fain have lived quietly at
home, were forced (the chiefest of them) to be gone. And to
Coventry they came ; and some of them that had any estates of
their own, lived there on their own charge ; and the rest were
fain to take up arms and be garrison soldiers, to get them bread."
Under such persecutions Baxter's father in Shropshire, and all his
neighbors that were noted for praying, and hearing sermons, were
afflicted. Tn the hope of rendering some aid to his father, he was
induced to leave Coventry for a few weeks, in company with a
party who went to fortify and garrison one of the towns in that
county. There he saw some fighting, such as was then going on
almost every where. His father he found in prison at Lillshul.
Having relieved him, he returned to Coventry after two months
absence. There he settled again in his old habitation and em
ployment, and followed his studies in quietness another year.
At Coventry, he says he had a very judicious auditory, and he
records the names of many whom he regarded with particular
affection. There were also in that place during the period of his
residence there, about thirty worthy ministers who, like him, had
fled thither for safety from the soldiers and from popular fury. " I
have cause," he adds, " of continual thankfulness to God for the
quietness and safety, and sober wise, religious company, with lib
erty to preach the gospel, which he vouchsafed me in this city,
when other places were in the terrors and flames of war."
The garrison to which he was chaplain, he describes as a com
munity in which there was much of the spirit of devotion, and at
the same time no inconsiderable degree of intelligence on religious
subjects. Some men of sectarian principles and of a dividing
disposition, gave him plenty of employment. He says he "preach
ed over all the controversies against the anabaptists first, and then
against the separatists." The Baptists, determined not to be put
down by his learning and acuteness, sent abroad for a minister of

72 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
their persuasion, who was no contemptible scholar; and with him
Baxter held a disputation, first by word of mouth, and afterwards
in writing. The result was that a few of the townsmen became
Baptists, and a Baptist church was then planted in that city which
continues to this day.* The garrison however, and the rest of the
city " were kept sound."
The two years which Baxter spent at Gloucester, were years
of convulsion and blood throughout England. The detail of bat
tles, and sieges, and occasional attempts at pacification, is no part of
our design. Every part of the kingdom being in arms, the war
was carried on with various success, and with little progress towards
a conclusion ; and at the close of the first year, there was more
prospect of a long continued conflict than at the beginning. At
this time, the parliament, somewhat disheartened perhaps by the
recent successes of the royal forces, invited aid from Scotland.
The Scots, inflamed with zeal for the divine right of their presby-
terian church government, insisted on a uniformity of doctrine,
worship, and discipline in the two kingdoms, as the condition on
which their assistance was to be afforded. A solemn league and cov
enant for the extirpation of popery, prelacy, superstition, heresy,
schism, and profaneness, was framed in Scotland, and after having
undergone some amendments designed to make it somewhat more
equivocal in its construction, was with great solemnity adopted and
subscribed by both houses of parliament, and by the assembly of
divines then sitting at Westminster. This covenant was ordered
to be sworn to and subscribed by all persons over the age of eigh
teen years, throughout the kingdom.
From atout this time, parties began to be distinctly formed both
in the parliament and among its adherents. Heretofore all had
been united in the common cause of reforming the existing hierar
chy. What ecclesiastical system should take the place of that which
they proposed to overturn, had not been discussed, much less deter
mined. Many, perhaps the majority of sober men, were for a mode
rate, or as they styled it, a primitive episcopacy. Others prefer
red the platform of Geneva and of the churches of Holland, which
* Orme.

LrlFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 73
had been adopted with only slight modifications in Scotland. Oth
ers disapproving of all national and provincial churches, favored
the scheme on which the churches of New-England had been form
ed ; and these, deeming no act of parliament necessary to give
them authority, gathered separate churches as they had opportuni
ty, on the congregational plan. But now the zeal of the Scots for
their presbyterianism, and their intrigues to introduce their unifor
mity, into the sister kingdom, divided those who had been hitherto
agreed ; and this was the rock on which was wrecked the cause of
civil and religious liberty in England.
Cotemporaneously with this division of opinions in relation to
ecclesiastical polity, there was drawn, insensibly, between ihe same
parties, another line of distinction which related to the conduct and
the expected conclusion of the war. The Presbyterians, seem to
have calculated on the continuance of the kingly name and some
thing of the kingly power : their plan was to establish their favor
ite uniformity, and to secure it, as had already been done in Scot
land, before entering into any final agreement with the king. To
this party naturally adhered all those men of moderate feelings and
principles, who hoped for a reconciliation. The Independents, on
the other hand, saw clearly that Charles could never be trusted ;
they had no expectation that he could be brought to approve their
scheme for the entire disjunction of church and state, and for the
establishment of entire religious liberty ; and they thought that if
it was lawful to carry on war against the king, it was equally lawful
to conquer him, and that if the nation had been reduced to anarchy
by his forfeiture of the trust reposed in him, the nation was in cir
cumstances which justified the adoption of another and a better
form of government. With them were of course allied that class
of men, who were in love with the abstract rights of the people,
and who desired to see the throne and the aristocracy both giving
way to the fairer institutions of a republic.
The assembly of divines at Westminister has already been re
ferred to ; and as that body is hardly less famous in the history of
those times than the parliament itself, some notice of its consti
tution and character, will not be irrelevant in this place. The
Westminister Assembly was not a national synod or convocation,
Vol. I. 10

74 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
nor did it pretend to represent at all either the churches or the
ministers. It consisted of one - hundred and twenty-one divines,
with thirty lay-assessors, called together by parliament to give ad
vice on such questions as might be referred to them by the houses ;
and to questions thus referred, all their debates and proceedings
were expressly confined, by the parliamentary ordinance which
brought them together. "The divines there congregated," says
Baxter, " were men of eminent learning, godliness, ministerial
abilities, and fidelity : 'and being not worthy to be one of them
myself, I may the. more freely speak that truth which I know,
even in the face' of malice and envy, that as far as I am able to
judge by the information of all history of that kind, and by any
other evidences left us, the christian world since the days of the
apostles, had never a Synod of more excellent divines, taking one
thing with another, than this and the Synod of Dort."
The assembly was composed chiefly of those ministers who,
like Baxter, retaining their connection with the church of Eng
land, were known to favor the cause of the parliament against the
King, and to desire a thorough reformation. Several of the most
learned Episcopal divines, some of them prelates, among whom
was the Irish primate archbishop Usher, were chosen as members ;
but the King having declared himself against the assembly they re
fused to take their seats. A few of that party however came ;
but their leader Dr. Featly was after a while detected in a corres
pondence with the Kiug, and for that offence was imprisoned.
And that all sides might be heard, six or seven Independents were
added, five of whom took an active part in the proceedings of
the assembly, and were known as the "dissenting brethren."
*' These," Baxter says, "joined with the rest till they had drawn
up a confession of faith, and a larger and a shorter catechism.
But when they came to church government, they engaged them
in many long debates, and kept that business, as long as possibly
they could, undetermined. And after that, they kept it so long
unexecuted in almost all parts of the land, saving London and
Lancashire, that their party had time to strengthen themselves in
the army and the parliament, and hinder the execution after all,
and keep the government determined on, a stranger to most of

LIFE OP RICHARD BAXTEI*. 75
the people of this land, who knew it but by hoar-say, as it was
represented by reporters."
This view of the influence of the five dissenting brethren in the
Westminister Assembly, seems tobe somewhat extravagant. The
fact was, the Scots were carried away with the hope of reducing
England and Ireland, by law and conquest, to a uniformity of reli
gion with them ; and* their partizans in the assembly and parlia
ment, and among the clergy, soon caught from the covenant the same
spirit. Great mistakes as to the nature of church government,
and as to the authority of civil magistrates in matters of religion,
were widely prevalent. Some politicians, and they had able
divines to support them, held that there ought to be no church
government, no power to debar from church privileges and ordi
nances, but in the hands or under the control of the civil magis
trate. These were called Erastians. Others held that the
church was independent of the State ; but with this vital truth
they held the miserable error, that the magistrate is bound to sus
tain the church, and to enforce uniform obedience to What the
church decides. This was the doctrine of the Presbyterians as a
party. They claimed that Christ had established in and over his
church a government entirely distinct from the civil magistracy,
that this government was none other than that by parochial sessions,
classical presbyteries, provincial synods, and national assemblies;
and that the government of the commonwealth was bound to sup
port this system in the church, and to make all men respect and
obey the decrees of this spiritual authority. The Independents
took a different ground. They believed, indeed, that the power
of admission to church privileges and of exclusion from ordinan
ces, was independent of the civil government ; but they believed
that this power resided, both by a right resting on the princi
ples of common sense, and by a right resting on divine authority,
in the officers and members of each, particular church, and there
only. They had seceded from the church of England ; and had
assumed their natural liberty of forming churches and worship
ping God according to their own views of propriety, without ask
ing leave of the government ; and they had engaged in this war
for the vindication of what they supposed to be their natural liberty.

76 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
In opposition therefore not only to the prelatical party, but to the Pres
byterians, and the Erastians, they were for a toleration ; and while it
does not .appear that they were, as a body, unwilling to have any
public provision for the support of religious instruction, they were
zealous for an entire separation between Church and State.
The Presbyterians had a numerical majority in parliament, and a
still stronger majority in the assembly of divines ; for on>almost every
question between them and the Independents, all who were for a
church establishment, all who believed it to belong to the magis
trate to interfere with his authority in matters of religion, and all
who deemed uniformity in doctrine discipline and worship, an ob
ject of supreme importance, acted with that party. The Inde
pendents however had on their side some of the most active, adroit
and efficient men in parliament ; they had a plain and popular cause;
and they had as their natural allies, the Baptists and the numerous
minor sects which were beginning to spring up from the chaotic
and fermenting elements. With these advantages they were able
at firstto hinder and embarrass, and at last to defeat, the scheme of
Presbyterian uniformity.
In the army especially, the cause of the Independents made ra
pid progress. The soldiers had been all along fighting, as they
supposed, against unwarrantable impositions on the conscience ; and
when they found that they had fought down one hierarchy, only
that the parliament and the assembly of divines might set up an
other, they began to entertain a not unreasonable dissatisfaction.
Nor was the nation at large long indifferent to these considerations.
Thousands began to see that, as Milton phrased it,
" New presbyter is but old priest writ large ;"
and with Milton they were ready to cry out,
"Because you have thrown off your prelate lord,
And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy,
Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword
To force our consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic hierarchy ? "
It was such causes as these, rather than the simple efforts of the

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 77
five dissenting brethren in the assembly, which kept the presbyteri-
an scheme of church government " so long unexecuted in almost
all parts of the land," and which " hindered the execution of it
after all."
Toward the close of Baxter's second year at Coventry, an im
portant change took place in the army. The earl of Essex had
heretofore been commander in chief for the parliament. But
about this time there began to be dissatisfaction both with him and
with the armies which he commanded. Men who had looked into
the tendency and probable results of the existing state of things,
and who judged that the safest way was to make thorough work,
and to conclude the war by victory, saw that Essex and some other
leaders in the army were of a different judgment. It appeared
that the generals, even when putting the battle in array against the
king, were unwilling to conquer him ; and the complaint was made
that on some occasions when an active pursuit might have finished
the war, the king and his forces were suffered to escape. Yet Es
sex was a man in great esteem with the parliament and with the
people, as well as with the army, and deservedly honored, both for
his military qualities and for his noble integrity of character. And
indeed there were many, who, fearing what might be attempted
by the ambitious and the turbulent, desired a peace with the king
on the basis of mutual accommodation, rather than a complete tri
umph over him reducing him to unqualified submission. All this
made it the more difficult for those who favored more decisive
measures, to bring about the changes which they desired.
Odier complaints were made against the army as then constitu
ted. " Though none could deny that the earl was a person of
great honor, valor and sincerity, yet some did accuse the soldiers
under him of being too like the king's soldiers in profaneness, lewd
and vicious practices, and rudeness of carriage toward the coun
try; and it was withal urged that the revolt of" several officers
who, since the commencement of the war had gone over to the
king, " was a satisfying evidence that the irreligious sort of men
were not to be much trusted, but might easily by money, be hired
to betray them."* At the same time it appeared that Cromwell's
* Narrative, Part I, p. 47.

78 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
troops, enlisted by him, and trained under his eye from the begin
ning of the war, and every where known as strictly religious men,
had become the most efficient portion ofthe army, and were most
to be depended on for discipline and order in the camp, and for
valor in the field of battle. These things made the religious sort
of men in parliament, in the army, and in the country, desirous of a
thorough change in the organization of the army, " putting out the
loose sort of men, especially officers, and putting religious men in
their steads."
To effect so great a change without mutiny or serious dissatis
faction, was a problem not easily solved. All was accomplished
however, without any difficulty, by a single vote of parliament. An
ordinance was framed, afterwards known as the " self-denying or
dinance," by which, all members of either house were excluded
from almost every office, civil or military, during the war. For
this measure so many reasons were alleged, that after a few day's
debate, it passed without any formidable opposition. Nearly all
the principal officers ofthe army immediately sent in their commis
sions. Fairfax, a man of good military talents, and of great in
tegrity of character, but without the ambition or the peculiar skill
to be a leader in such times, was made commander-in-chief; and
at his request, Cromwell was exempted from the operation of the
self-denying ordinance, and was made lieutenant-general. The
master genius of Cromwell gave him a great ascendancy over his
nominal superior ; and the army was soon entirely re-organized
under his supervision, and very much according to the wishes of
the Independents, though Fairfax himself was a devoted Presby
terian. No sooner had the new-modeled army taken the field,
than the effect of these new counsels and commands was evident.
The first engagement of this army with the royal forces was the
decisive battle of Naseby.
In this army Baxter became a chaplain. His views in enter
ing the army, and his employment and efforts while there, were
highly characteristic of the man in all his peculiarities. His account
however, of Cromwell, and of the spirit which prevailed in the
army, should be read with some allowance for the influence of pre
judices which, even in his old age, had not forsaken him, and of

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 79
disappointments which, in all his latter years especially, he had
much reason to remember.
" Naseby being not faY from Coventry, where I was, and the noise
of the victory being loud in our ears, and I having two or three that
had been my intimate friends, in Cromwell's army, whom I had not
seen for above two years, I was desirous to see whether they
were dead or alive ; so to Naseby Field I went two days after the
fight, and thence by the army's quarters before Leicester, to seek
my acquaintance. When I found them, I staid with them a
night ; and I understood the state of the army much better than
ever I had done before. We that lived quietly in Coventry did keep
to our old principles, and thought all others had done so too, ex
cept a very few inconsiderable persons. We were unfeignedly for
king and parliament ; we believed that the war was only to save the
parliament and kingdom from papists and delinquents, and to re
move the dividers, that the king might again return to his parlia
ment ; and that no changes might be made in religion, but by the
laws which had his free consent. We took the true happiness of
king and people, church and state, to be our end, and so we under-
derstood the covenant, engaging both against Papists and schisma
tics ; and when the Court News-book told the world of the swarms
of Anabaptists in our armies, we thought it had been a mere lie,
because it was not so with us, nor in any of the garrison'or county
forces about us. But when I came to the army, among Crom
well's soldiers, I found a new face of things which I never dreamt
of ; I heard the plotting heads very hot upon that which intimated
their intention to subvert both church and state."
" Abundance of the common troopers, and many ofthe officers,
I found to be honest, sober, orthodox men ; and others tractable,
ready to hear the truth, and of upright intentions. But a few proud,
self-conceited, hot-headed sectaries had got into the highest plaees,
and were Cromwell's chief favorites ; and by their very heat and
activity, bore down the rest, or carried them along with them.
These were the soul of the army, though much fewer in number
than the rest, being indeed not one to twenty throughout the anny ;
their strength being in the General's, in Whalley's and in Rich's regi
ments of horse, and among the new-placed officers in many ofthe rest.

so

LIFE OF RICHAUD BAXTER.

" I perceived that* they took the king for a tyrant and an enemy,
and really intended absolutely to master him or to ruin him. They
thought if they might fight against him, they might also kill or con
quer him ; and if they might conquer, they were never more to trust
him further than he was in their power. They thought it folly to
irritate him either by wars or contradictions in parliament, if so be
they must needs take him for their king, and trust him with their
lives when they had thus displeased him. They said, ' What were
the lords of England, but William the Conqueror's colonels; or the
barons, but his majors ; or the knights, but his captains !' They
plainly showed that they thought God's providence would cast the
trust of religion and the kingdom upon them as conquerors ; they
made nothing of all the most wise and godly in the armies and gar
risons, that were not of their way. Per fas aut nefas, by law or
without it, they were resolved to take down not only bishops, and
liturgy, and ceremonies, but all that did withstand their way. They
were far from thinking of a moderate episcopacy, or of any healing
way between the episcopalians and the presbyterians ; they most
honored the separatists, anabaptists, and antinomians ; but Crom
well and his council took on them to join themselves to no party,
but to be for the liberty of all. Two sorts, I perceived, they did so
commonly and bitterly speak against, that it was done in mere de
sign, to make them odious to the soldiers, and to all the land ; and
these were first, the Scots, and with them all presbyterians, but es
pecially the ministers ; whom they called 'priests,' and 'priestbyters,'
'dryvines,' and 'the dissemblymen,' and suchlike: secondly, the com
mittees of the several counties, and all the soldiers that were under
them, that were not of their mind and way. Some orthodox cap
tains ofthe army did partly acquaint me with all this, and I heard
much of it from the mouths of the leading sectaries themselves.
This struck me to the heart, and made me fear that England was
lost by those that it had taken for its chief friends.
"Upon this I began to blame other ministers and myself. I saw
that it was the ministers that had lost all, by forsaking the army,
and betaking themselves to an easier and quieter way of life. When
the earl of Essex went out first, each regiment had an able
preacher ; but at Edghill fight, almost all of them went home ; and

LIFE OF RICHARD UAXTER. 81
as the sectaries increased, they were more averse to go into the
army. It is true I believe now, that they had little invitation; and
it is true, that they could look for but little welcome, and great con
tempt and opposition, beside all other difficulties and dangers; but
it is as trjie, that their worth and labor, in a patient, self-denying
way, would probably have preserved most of the army, and defeated
the contrivances ofthe sectaries, saved the king, the parliament and
the land. And if it had brought reproach upon themselves from
the malicious, who called them Military Levites, the good which
they had done would have wiped off that blot, much better than the
contrary course would have done.
" I reprehended myself also, who had before rejected an invita
tion frou! Cromwell. When he lay atCambridge long before, with that
famous troop which he began his army with, his officers purposed to
make their troop a gathered church, and they all subscribed an invita
tion to me to be their pastor, and sent it me to Coventry. I sent them
a denial, reproving^ their attempt, and told them wherein my judg
ment was against the lawfulness and convenience of their way, and so
I heard no more from them ; and afterwards meeting Cromwell at
Leicester, he expostulated with me for denying them. These very
men that then invited me to be their pastor, were the men that
afterwards headed much of the army, and some of them were the
forwardest in all our changes ; which made me wish that I had
gone among them, however it had been interpreted ; for then all the
fire was in one spark.
" When I had informed myself, to my sorrow, of the state ofthe
army, Captain Evanson, (one of my orthodox informers,) desired
me yet to come to their regiment, which was the most religious,
most valiant, most successful of all the army; but in as much
danger as any one whatsoever. I was unwilling to leave my stu
dies, and friends, and quietness, at Coventry, to go into an army so
contrary to my judgment ; but I thought tbe public good com
manded me, and so I gave him some encouragement. Whereupon
he told his colonel (Whalley,*) who also was orthodox in religion,

* This Whalley is the man who many years afterwards, with his son-in-
law, GorTe, found refuge from the vengeance of the English Court among
Vol. 1. 11

82 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
but engaged by kindred and interest to Cromwell. He invited me
to be chaplain to his regiment, and,I told him I would take but one
day's time to deliberate, and would send him an answer or else
come to him.
" As soon as I came home to Coventry, I called together an as
sembly of ministers; Dr. Bryan, Dr. Grew, and many orners. I
told them the sad news of the corruption of the army, and that I
thought all we had valued was likely to be endangered by them ;
seeing this army having first conquered at York, and now at Naseby;
and having left the king no visible army but Goring's, the fate of
the whole kingdom was likely to follow the disposition and interest
of the conquerors. We have sworn to be true to the king and his
heirs, in the oath of allegiance. All our soldiers here do think that the
parliament is faithful to the king, and have no other purpose them
selves. If king and parliament, church and state, be ruined by
those men, and we look on, and do nothing to hinder it, how-are we
true to our allegiance and to the covenant, which bindeth us to de
fend the king, and to be against schism, as well as against Popery
and profaneness ? For my part, said I, I know that my body is so weak
that it is likely to hazard my life to be among them ; I expect their
fury should do little less than rid me out of their way ; and I know
one man cannot do much among them : but yet, if your judgment
take it to be my duty, I will venture my life ; perhaps some other
minister may be drawn in, and then some more of the evil may be
prevented. " The ministers finding my own judgment for it, and being moved
with the cause, did unanimously give their judgment for my going.
Hereupon, I went straight to the committee, and told them that I
had an invitation to the army, and desired their consent to go. They
consulted a while, and then left it wholly to the governor, saying,
that if he consented they should not hinder me. lt fell out that
Colonel Barker, the governor, was just then to be turned out, as a
member of parliament, by the self-denying vote. And one of his

the republican settlers of New-England. The history of the regicide Judged'
is too well known in this country to need repetition here.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 83
captains (Colonel Willoughby) was to be colonel and governor
in his place. Hereupon Colonel Barker was content, in his dis
content, that I should go out with him, that he might be missed the
more; and so gave me his consent.
"Hereupon I sent word to Col. Whalley that, to-morrow, God wil
ling, I would come to him. As soon as this was done, the elected
governor was much displeased ; and the soldiers were so much of
fended at the committee for consenting to my going, that the com
mittee all met again in the night, and sent for me, and told me I
must not go. I told them that, by their consent, 1 had promised,
and therefore must go. They told me that the soldiers were ready
to mutiny against them, and they could not satisfy them, and there
fore I must stay. I told them that I would not have promised, if
they had not consented, diough being no soldier or chaplain to the
garrison, but only preaching to them, I took myself to be a free
man, and I could not break my word, when I had promised by their
consent. They seemed to deny their consent, and said they only
referred me to the governor. In a word, they were so angry with
me, that I was fain to tell them all the truth of my motives and de
sign, what a case I perceived the army to be in, and that 1 was re
solved to do my best against it. I knew not, till afterwards, that
Colonel William Purefoy, a parliament-man, one of the chief of
them, was a confident of Cromwell's ; and as soon as I had spoken
what I did of the army, magisterially he answereth me, ' Let me
hear no more of that ; if Nol Cromwell should hear any soldier but
speak such word, he would cleave his crown ; you do them wrong.
It is not so.' I told him what he would not bear, he should not
hear from me : but I would perform my word though he seemed
to deny his. And so I parted with those that had been my very
great friends, in some displeasure. The soldiers, however, threat
ened to stop the gates and keep me in; but, being honest, under
standing men, I quickly satisfied the leaders of them by a private in
timation of my reasons and resolutions, and some of them accom
panied me on my way.
"As soon as 1 came to the army, Oliver Cromwell coldly bade
me welcome, and never spake one word to me more while I was
there : nor once, all that time, vouchsafed me an opportunity to

84 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
come to the head quarters, where the councils and meetings of the
officers were ; so that most of my design was thereby frustrated.
His secretary gave out that there was a reformer come to the army
to undeceive them, and to save church and state, with some such
Other jeers ; by which I perceived that all I had said the night be
fore to the committee, had come to Cromwell before me, 1 believe
by Colonel Purefoy's means ; but Colonel Whalley welcomed me,
and was the worse thought of for it by the rest of the cabal.
" Here I set myself, from day to day, to find out the corruptions
of the soldiers, and to discourse and dispute them out of their mis
takes, both religious and political. My life among them was a daily
contending against seducers, and gently arguing with the more tract
able ; but another kind of militia I had than theirs.
" I found that many honest men of weak judgments and little ac
quaintance with such matters, had been seduced into a disputing
vein, and made it too much of their religion to talk for this opinion
and for that; sometimes for state democracy, and sometimes for
church democracy; sometimes against forms of prayer, and some
times against infant baptism, which yet some of them did maintain ;
sometimes against set times of prayer, and against the tying of our
selves to any duty before the Spirit move us; and sometimes about
free-grace and free-will, and all the points of Antinomianism and
Arminianism. So that I was almost always, when I had opportu
nity, disputing with one or other of them ; sometimes for our civil
government, and sometimes for church order and government ;
.sometimes for infant baptism, and oft against Antinomianism, and
the contrary extreme. But their most frequent and vehement dis
putes were for liberty of conscience, as they called it ; that is, that
the civil magistrate had nothing to do to determine any thing in mat
ters of religion, by constraint or restraint ; but every man might not
only hold, but preach and do, in matters of religion, what he pleased :
that the civil magistrate hath nothing to do but with civil things, to
keep the peace, protect the church's liberties, Sic.
" I found that one-half almost, of the religious party among them,
were such as were either orthodox, or but very slightly touched with
their mistakes; and almost another half were honest men, that stepped
further into the contending way than they could well get out of again

LIFE OF RICHAHD BAXTER. 85
but who, with competent help, might be recovered. There were
a few fiery, self-conceited men among them, who kindled the rest,
and made all the noise and bustle, and carried about the army
as they pleased ; for the greatest part of the common soldiers,
especially of the foot, were ignorant men, of little religion ;
abundance of them such as had been taken prisoners, or turn
ed out of garrisons under the king, and had been soldiers in his
army. These would do any thing to please their officers, and were
ready instruments for the seducers, especially in their great work,
which was to cry down the covenant, to vilify all parish ministers,
but especially the Scots and Presbyterians ; for most of the soldiers
that I spoke with, never took the covenant, because it tied them to
defend the king's person, and to extirpate heresy and schism.
" Because I perceived that it was a few men who bore the bell,
and did all the hurt among them, I acquainted myself with those
men, and would be oft disputing with them, in the hearing of the
rest. I found that they were men who had been in London, hatched
up among the old separatists, and had made it all the matter of their
study and religion to rail against ministers, parish churches, and
Presbyterians ; and who had little other knowledge or discourse of
any thing about the heart, or heaven. They were fierce with pride
and self-conceitedness, and had gotten a very great conquest over
their charity, both to the Episcopalians and Presbyterians : whereas
many of those honest soldiers who were tainted but with some doubts
about liberty of conscience or Independency, were men who would
discourse of the points of sanctification and christian experience very
savorily. But we so far prevailed in opening the folly of these re-
vilers and self-conceited men, as that some of them became the
laughing-stock of the soldiers before I left them ; and when they
preached, for great preachers they were, their weakness exposed
them to contempt. A great part of the mischief they did among the
soldiers was by pamphlets, which were abundantly dispersed, such
as Overton's Martin Mar-Priest, and more of his ; and some of
J. Lilburn's, who was one of them ; and divers against the
king, and against the ministry, and for liberty of conscience, &c.
And soldiers being usually dispersed in their quarters, they had such
books to read, when they had none to contradict them.

bt> LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" But there was yet a more dangerous party than these among
the soldiers (only in Major Bethel's troop of our regiment,)
Who took the direct Jesuitical way. They first most vehe
mently declaimed against the doctrine of election, and for -the
power of free-will, and all other points which are controverted be
tween the Jesuits and Dominicans, the Arminians and Calvinists.
Then they as fiercely cried down our present translation of the
scriptures, and debased their authority, though they did not deny
them to be divine. They cried down all our ministry, episcopal,
presbyterian and independent, and all our churches. They vilified
almost all our ordinary worship, especially singing of psalms
and constant family worship ; they allowed of no argument from
scripture, but what was brought in its express words ; they were
vehement against both king and all government, but popular :
and against magistrates meddling in matters of religion. All their
disputing was with as much fierceness as if they had been ready to
draw their swords upon those with whom they disputed. They
trusted more to policy, scorn, and power, than to argument. They
would bitterly scorn me among their hearers, to prejudice them
before they entered into dispute. They avoided me as much as
possible; but when they did come to it, they drowned all reason
in fierceness, and vehemency, and multitude of words. They
greatly strove for places of command ; and when any place was
due by order to another that was not of their mind, they would be
sure to work him out, and be ready to mutiny if they had not their
will. I thought they were principled by the Jesuits, and acted all
for their interest, and in their way ; but the secret spring was out
of sight. These were the same men that were afterwards called
Levellers, who rose up against Cromwell, and were surprised at
Burford, having then deceived and drawn to them many more.
Thompson, the general ofthe levellers, who was slain then, was no
greater a man than one of the corporals of Bethel's troop ; the cor
net and others being much worse than he."*
The battle of Naseby was fought June 14 1645. The victori
ous army immediately afterwards marched into the west of England,
to -encounter the royal forces there under the command of Goring,
before the fugitives should have time to rally in that quarter, and
* Narrative, Part I. pp. 50 — 54.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 87
strengthen the king's last hope. In this expedition Baxter saw first
the battle, or rather skirmish, at Langport, in which Coring's forces
were routed. Next he was at the storming of Bridgewater. Thence
he went with the conquerors to Bristol, which after a month's seige
was ingloriously surrendered. After the first three days of this siege
he was taken sick with a fever, and on the first symptoms of the
disease, retired, and with much difficulty reached Bath ; where
under careful medical attendance he recovered, from the brink of
death, sufficiently to reach the army again, three or four days be
fore the city was taken. Then after two weeks at the siege of
Sherborne castle, which was at last taken by storm, he went with
the main body of the army under Fairfax, still further west, in pur
suit of Goring. He staid three weeks at the seige of Exeter ; and
then Whalley's regiment with some others being sent back, he re
turned with them.
The service on which Whalley was now sent, with these regi
ments of horse, was to watch the garrison with which the king bad
shut himself up in Oxford, till the army should come to besiege
that city, which was the most considerable place then in the hands of
the royal party. About six weeks in winter, they were quartered in
Buckinghamshire ; and then they were sent to besiege Banbury
Castle, about twenty miles north of Oxford, which after two months
was taken. After this enterprise, the same regiments were sent
with some forces of the neighboring militia, to besiege Worcester^
while the main army having returned from the west was employed
before Oxford. The seige of Worcester lasted eleven weeks. In
all these marches and sieges Baxter was with his regiment, pursu
ing with characteristic zeal, his scheme of preaching down, and ar
guing down, that radical and revolutionary spirit, from which he
anticipated the most disastrous results.
" By this time," he adds, " Colonel Whalley, though Cromwell's
kinsman, and commander of the trusted regiment, grew odious
among the sectarian commanders at the head quarters, for my sake ;
and was called a Presbyterian, though neither he nor I were of
that judgment in several points. When he had brought the city
to a necessity of present yielding, two or three days before it yield
ed, Colonel Rainsborough was sent from Oxford, which had yield-

88 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
ed, with some regiments of foot, to command, in chief; partly that
he might be governor there, and not Whalley, when the city was
surrendered. So when it was yielded, Rainsborough was gover
nor, to head and gratify the sectaries, and settle city and county in
their way ; but the committee of the county were for Whalley, and
lived in distaste with Rainsborough, and the sectaries prospered
there no further than Worcester city itself, a place which deserved
such a judgment ; but all the country was free from their infection.
" All this while, as I had friendly converse with the sober part,
so I was still employed with the rest as before, in preaching, con
ference, and disputing against their confounding errors ; and in all
places where we went, the sectarian soldiers much infected the
counties, by their pamphlets and converse. The people admiring
the conquering army, were ready to receive whatsoever they com
mended to them ; and it was the waj of the faction to represent
what they said, as the sense of the army, and to make the people
believe that whatever opinion they vented, which one in forty of
the army owned not, was the army's opinion. When we quarter
ed at Agmondesham, in Buckinghamshire, some sectaries of Ches-
ham had set up a public meeting as for conference, to propagate their
opinions through all the country ; and this in the church, by the
encouragement of an ignorant sectarian lecturer, one Bramble,
whom they had got in, while Dr. Cook, the pastor, and Mr. Rich
ardson, his curate, durst not contradict them. When this public
talking-day came, Bethel's troopers, with other sectarian soldiers,
must be there to confirm the Chesham men, and make men believe
that the army was for them. I thought it my duty to be there also,
and took divers sober officers with me, to let them see that more
of the army were against them than for them. I took the reading
pew, and Pitchford's cornet and troopers took the gallery. And
there I found a crowded congregation of poor well-meaning people,
who came in the simplicity of their hearts to be deceived. Then did
the leader of the Chesham men begin, and afterwards Pitchford's
soldiers set in, and I alone disputed against them from morning
until almost night ; for I knew their trick, that if I had but gone
out first, they would have prated what boasting words they list
ed when I was gone, and made the people believe that they had

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 89
baffled me, or got the best ; therefore, I stayed it out till they first
rose and went away." Some of the sober people of Agmondesham,
gave me abundance of thanks for that day's work, which they said
would never be there forgotten ; 1 heard also that the sectaries were
so discouraged that they never met there any more.
" The great impediments to the success of my endeavors, I found
were only two; the discountenance of Cromwell and the chief offi
cers of his mind, which kept me a stranger from their meetings and
councils ; and my incapacity of speaking to many, as soldiers' quar
ters are scattered far from one another, and I could be but in one
place at once. So that one troop at a time, ordinarily, and some
few more extraordinarily, was all that I could speak to. The most
of the service I did beyond Whalley's regiment was, by the help of
Captain Lawrence, with some of the General's regiment, and some
times I had converse with Major Harrison and a few others ; but I
found that if the army had only had ministers enough, who would
have done such little as I did, all their plot must have been broken,
and king, and parliament, and religion, might have been preserved.
I, therefore, sent abroad to get some more ministers among them,
but I could get none. Saltmarsh and Dell were the two great
preachers at the head quarters ; but honest and judicious Mr. Ed
ward Bowles kept still with the General. At last I got Mr. Cook,
of Roxhall, to come to assist me ; and the soberer part of the offi
cers and soldiers of Whalley's regiment were willing to remunerate
him out of their own pay. A month or two he staid and assisted
me ; but was quickly weary, and left them again. He was a very
worthy, humble, laborious man, unwearied in preaching, but weary
when he had not an opportunity to preach, and weary of the spirits
he had to deal with.
" All this while, though I came not near Cromwell, his designs
were visible, and I saw him continually acting his part. The Lord
General suffered him to govern and to do all, and to choose almost
all the officers of the army. He first made Ireton commissary-ge
neral; and when any troop or company was to be disposed of, or
any considerable officer's place was void, he was sure to put a sec
tary in the place ; and when the brunt of the war was over, he looked
not so much at t%ir valor as their opinions ; so that, by degrees,
Vol. II. 12

90 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
he had headed the greatest part of the army with anabaptists, anti-
nomians, seekers, or separatists at best. All these he led together
by the point of liberty of conscience, which was the" common inter
est in which they did unite. Yet all the sober party were carried
on by his profession, that he only promoted the universal interest of
the godly, without any distinction or partiality at all ; but still, when
a place fell void, it was twenty to one a sectary had it; and if a god
ly man, of any other mind or temper, had a mind to leave the army,
he would, secretly or openly, further it. Yet he did not openly pro
fess what opinion he was of himself."*
The fact which Baxter here testifies, namely that all this while
he came not near Cromwell, is a fact which ought to qualify his
strictures on Cromwell's proceedings and intentions. Baxter feared,
as well he might, the progress of arminianisra, antinomianism and
fanaticism in the army; and he used, with laudable diligence, the
weapons of his warfare to check those evils. Had he been inti
mate with the counsels of the sectarian commanders at head quar
ters, he might have seen other evils at work in other quarters, and
threatening to become, in their results, not less disastrous to the cause
of truth and holiness. Cromwell saw, what the good chaplain of
Whalley's regiment seems never to have suspected, that the Presby
terian party in the assembly and in parliament, were determined to set
up their Scotch hierarchy as the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and, under
the claim of a divine right, to put again upon the necks of Independ
ents, Baptists, and all other sectaries, a yoke of uniformity, which
neither they nor their fathers had been able to bear. Seeing this,
he must have felt himself bound to use all proper means for the
defeat of such a design ; and it is not difficult to suppose that he
may have acted as conscientiously in his measures for the defence
ofthe great principles on which the revolution rested, as Baxter act
ed in attempting to argue down the vagaries of antinomian fana
tics. After the surrender of Worcester, the war with the king being
apparently at an end, Baxter visited his old flock at Kidderminster,
and was earnesdy importuned to resume his labors there. On this
* Narrative, Part I. pp. 55, 57.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 91
application he went to Coventry, and sought the advice of the min
isters there, by whose counsel he had first gone into the army. In
asking their advice he told them not only all his fears, but that his
own judgment was clear for staying in the army till the crisis which
he expected should arrive. Their opinion accorded with his;
and he determined on a still longer absence from the peaceful la
bors of his pastoral charge.
About this time he retired from his quarters for a while on ac
count of his health. He visited London for medical assistance,
and spent some time at Tunbridge wells, and returned to his regi
ment in Worcestershire, prepared to go on with his work. But
soon the fatigue and exposure of moving from place to place,, as in
that military life he was under the necessity of doing, during a cold
and snowy season had almost proved fatal to him. He was at
tacked with a violent bleeding at the nose, which continued till
his strength and almost his life was exhausted.
" And thus," he says, " God unavoidably prevented all the effect
of my purposes in my last andchiefest opposition ofthe army; and
took me off at the very time when my attempt should have begun.
My purpose was to have done my best, first to take off that regiment
which I was with, and then, with Capt. Lawrence, to have tried
upon the General's, in which too was Cromwell's chief confi
dence ; and then to have joined with others of the same mind ; for
the other regiments were much less corrupted. But the determin
ation of God against it was most observable ; for the very time that
I was bleeding, the council of war sat at Nottingham, where, as I
have credibly heard, they first began to open their purposes, and
act their part ; and, presently after, they entered into their engage
ment at Triploe Heath. And as I perceived it was the will of
God to permit them to go on, so I afterwards found that this great
affliction was a mercy to myself; for they were so strong, and ac
tive, that I had been likely to have had small success in the attempt,
and to have lost my life among them in their fury. And thus I
was finally separated from the army.
" When I had staid at Melbourne, in my chamber, three weeks,
being among strangers, and not knowing how to get home, I went
to Mr. Nowell's house, at Kirby-Mallory, in Leicestershire, where,

92 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
with great kindness, I was entertained three weeks. By that time,
the tidings of my weakness came to the Lady Rous, in Worcester
shire, who sent her servant to seek me out; and when he returned,
and told her I was afar off, and he could not find me, she sent him
again to find me, and bring me thither, if I were able to travel. So,
in great weakness, thither I made shift to get, where I was enter
tained with the greatest care and tenderness, while I continued the
use of means for my recovery; and when I had been there a quar
ter of ayear, I returned to Kidderminster."*
It was during this long sickness, and while he was anticipating a
speedy departure, that he employed himself in writing that work
on the " Saint's Everlasting Rest," which has made his name dear
to the friends of serious and practical religion through the world.
This was the first written of all his published compositions. A
much smaller work, entitled " Aphorisms of Justification," de
signed to refute some of the antinomian errors which he had been
combatting in the army, was commenced while the " Saint's Rest"
was still unfinished and was published in 1649, two years after his
return to Kidderminster. The " Saint's Rest" was published
in 1650.
Of the circumstances in which this work was written, the au
thor says, " While I was in health, I had not the least thought
of writing books, or of serving God in any more public way than
preaching; but when I was weakened with great bleeding, and
left solitary in my chamber at Sir John Cook's in Derbyshire, with
out any acquaintance but my servant about me, aud was sentenced
to death by the physicians, I began to contemplate more seriously
on the everlasting rest., which I apprehended myself to be just on
the borders of. That my thoughts might not too much scatter in
my meditation, I began to write something on that subject, intend
ing but the quantity of a sermon or two ; but being continued long
in weakness, where I had no books and no better employment J
followed it on, till it was enlarged to the bulk in which it is publish
ed. The first three weeks I spent in it was at Mr. Nowel's house
at Kirby Mallory, in Leicestershire ; a quarter of a year more, at

* Narrative, Pnit I. pp. 5fi, 59.

93 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the seasons which so great weakness would allow, 1 bestowed on it
at Sir Thomas Rous's house at Rous-Lench in Worcestershire ;
and I finished it shortly after at Kidderminster."
"The marginal citations I put in after I came home to my books,
but almost all the book itself was written when I had no book but
a Bible and a Concordance ; and I found that the transcript of the
heart hath the greatest force on the hearts of others. For the good
that I have heard that multitudes have received by that writing,
and the benefit which I have again received by their prayers, I here
humbly return my thinks to Him that compelled me to write it."*
There are few testimonies to the great intellectual vigor, and the
extraordinary industry of Baxter, more surprising than the fact that
" The Saint's Everlasting Rest," which at its first publication was a
quarto volume of eight hundred pages, was written in six months,
while the author stood languishing and fainting between life and
death. * Narrative, Part I. p. 108.

PAHT THIRD.

The personal history of Baxter is so closely connected with the
history of the times in which he lived, that it seems necessary in
this place briefly to review the progress of public events from the
siege of Oxford in the beginning of the year 1646, to the death of
Cromwell in September 1658.
After the battles and sieges by which all the southwestern parts
of England had been reduced under the power of the parliament,
the victorious army, commanded by Fairfax and Cromwell, return
ed as soon as tbe spring opened, to put an end to the war by be
sieging the king in his head-quarters at Oxford. On receiving
this intelligence, and learning that the enemy was just at hand,
Charles, with only two attendants, left the city by night, in disguise,
and fleeing to the north, threw himself into the hands of the Scottish
army then employed in the seige of Newark. He was aware
that the Scots, in dieir zeal for covenant uniformity, had begun to
be disgusted with the dilatory proceedings of the English parlia
ment respecting the establishment of presbyterianism as the only
and divinely authorized form of church government; he knew that
they looked on the progress of independency with equal alarm and
abhorrence; and his hope was that by throwing himself upon
them, whose claims in relation to their own country he had fully
satisfied, he might be able to break up their alliance with England.
The Scottish generals, however, refused to enter into any separate
treaty with him ; and while they paid him scrupulously all the ex
terior respect due to majesty, he was in fact a prisoner rather
than a sovereign. At their suggestion, which in his circumstances
differed little from a command, he gave orders to the commanders
at Oxford, and in all his other garrisons, to surrender to the parlia-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 95
ment; and thus the war was ended, the last of the royal garri
sons being surrendered, a litle less than four years from the day on
which the king set up his standard at Nottingham.
Charles continued with the Scots eight months. The parlia
ment and the Scottish commissioners offered him terms of recon
ciliation, better than conquerors ordinarily impose upon the van
quished. His friends importunately urged him to accept those
terms, as the best provision which he could possibly make for
himself and for his partizans. But he was now infatuated with
the visionary expectation of dividing his enemies. He addressed
himself to the Scots, representing to them how probable it was that
the independents would secure a toleration in spite of the provisions
of the covenant, and proposing that if episcopacy might be contin
ued in four ofthe dioceses of England, the presbyterian discipline
should be established in all the other parts of the kingdom, with the
strictest enactments that could be devised against both papists and
sectarians. At the same time he entered into a more private ne
gotiation with the leaders of the army, who proposed to set him
on his throne again, without his taking the covenant or renouncing
the liturgy, if he would but secure, with the civil liberties of the
people, a general toleration in religion. Had he in this emergen
cy enlisted frankly on either side, he might have retrieved something
of his fallen fortunes. But he had too much imbecility of charac
ter to decide in such circumstances ; and while he lingered, hoping
to set one party against the other, and to secure from their mutual
collision the re-establishment of his entire authority, he suffered the
opportunity to go by without accepting the proposals of either.
The Scots after some negotiation with the English parliament, find
ing that they could make no agreement with the king, and that to
retain his person in their hands would be attended with much loss
and hazard, and with no probable advantage, surrendered him
to the commissioners appointed by parliament, by whom he was
conducted to Holmby House in Northamptonshire the place ap
pointed for his residence.
Meanwhile, as the disposition of the parliament towards a strict
presbyterian establishment, excluding all toleration, became more
manifest, the dissatisfaction of the army increased ; and they were

96 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
gradually brought to the fixed resolution that they would be heard
on that point, and that their opinions should be regarded in all the
measures which concerned their separate interests or that common
religious liberty for which they had been fighting. To this end
they elected a council of officers, and a body of adjutators, or as
sistants, consisting of three or four from each regiment, represent
ing the common soldiers. These two councils held their separate
sessions, like the two houses of parliament, and considered freely
all the proposals and orders of the parliament in relation to the set
tlement of the kingdom, or the disposal of the army. By this or
ganization the army became a military republic, and ceased to be
governed by the civil authority. Indeed the nation was in a state
in which hardly any rightful authority could be said to exist. The
king had forfeited his right to govern. The parliament having got
ten the power into their hands, betrayed a disposition to keep it;
and there being no law to secure the dissolution of the existing
parliament and the election of another, the members in proportion
as their body approximated to the character of a perpetual senate,
became in fact and in public estimation, the usurping sovereigns
rather than the representatives and organs of the people. It was
not strange then that the army should feel themselves justified
in refusing to be disbanded, or to be otherwise disposed of, till
justice should be done to them as public creditors, and the peace
and liberty of the nation should be secured on some basis satisfac
tory to their judgment. Having taken such a resolution they com
municated it, by a formal delegation, to parliament.
The presbyterian party seeing whereunto this might grow, has
tened their treaty with the king, and seemed to be on the point of
concluding it, as if they were more willing to make any sacrifice
than to consent to that religious freedom which the army demand
ed. The treaty was suddenly broken off by an unexpected move
ment. A cornet, acting probably under the direction of the ad
jutators, came to Holmby at the head of fifty horse, and removed
the king from the midst of his guards and keepers to the quarters
of the army at Newmarket. It does not appear that the king
felt anv decided aversion to this removal. He was treated with
much more consideration by the officers of the army, than he had

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 97
been by the parliamentary commissioners ; and he had more per
sonal liberty at Newmarket, than he had known before from the
time of his surrendering himself to the Scots.
The news of this bold measure, threw the parliament and the city
into great confusion. It was expected that the array would be in
stantly before the city ; and hasty preparations were made for a
defense. Commissioners were sent to the general to forbid the ap
proach of the army. Fairfax replied that they would make no
further advance without giving due notice ; and he assured the
houses that there was no design to overthrow the presbyterian gov*
ernment or to set up the independent, and that the army claimed
nothing more than tbe privilege of dissenting from the established
religion. After some negotiation, the presbyterians in the parlia
ment and the city, began to recover courage; and the army began
to reply in bolder language. The citizens grew violent, and by
tumultuous petitions endeavored to bring the parliament to stronger
measures. But the speakers of the two houses and with them a
very considerable portion of the members, not a few of whom
were zealous presbyterians, fearing these tumults, withdrew from
the city, and claimed the protection of the army that the parlia
ment might be free. The army was immediately put in motion,
and on its approach, the city submitted without a defense. A few
of the most active presbyterian leaders, were under the necessity of
abandoning their places in the house of commons ; and from this
time, the proceedings of parliament were generally conformed to
the wishes of the army.
The king was all this while with the army ; and when the city
and parliament had submitted, he was allowed to reside at his
palace of Hampton Court, where he appeared in great state, and
was attended by throngs of people from the city and the country.
Cromwell and Ireton conferred with him privately about restoring
him to the throne. They made him better offers than those of the
parliament ; and there is no sufficient reason to doubt the sincerity
of their proposals. But he was still infatuated with the notion that
neither party could exist without him, and that each would willing
ly outbid the other to secure his name and influence. Thus he
carried on a deceitful negotiation with both parties, till his duplicity
Vol. I 13

98 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
was discovered by a letter to his wife which Cromwell intercept
ed. Upon this discovery, Cromwell informed the king's most in
timate attendant that he would have no more to do with a man so
unworthy of his confidence, and would no longer be responsible,
as he had been, for his personal safety. The unhappy monarch,
without seeming to have formed any definite plan of escape, fled
from Hampton Court, and a few hours afterwards found himself,
he hardly knew how, a prisoner in the Isle of Wight.
Here he was soon visited by commissioners from parliament, offer
ing him certain proposals to which his assent was required as pre
liminary to any further negotiation. It was very distinctly intima
ted that if he rejected these propositions, they would proceed to
settle the nation without him. The preliminaries now proposed,
were not materially different from the terms which he had formerly
rejected. He now declined them once more, having already en
tered on a secret treaty with the Scottish commissioners, which was
signed three days afterwards. In this treaty, the king on the one
hand promised that the covenant should be confirmed by act of
parliament ; that the presbyterian discipline should be established
in England for three years, and afterwards such a system as should
be agreed on in the mean time, the king and his household having
the privilege of using those forms of worship to which they had
been accustomed ; and that an effectual course should be taken to
suppress all heresy and schism. The Scots on the other hand,
who had long been dissatisfied with their English friends as wanting
in zeal for the covenant, and who had become finally disgusted on
witnessing the predominant -influence of the military sectarians,
promised to raise an army which should deliver the king from his
imprisonment and restore him to his authority. This treaty was
signed near the close of the year 1647.
Early in the following year, the nation was again involved in war.
The Scots, in compliance with their new treaty, invaded England
under the banner of the covenant ; the king's old friends rising si
multaneously, wherever they were numerous enough to show them
selves. The army which had overawed the parliament by being
quartered about London, was now drawn off to meet the common
enemy ; and the presbyterian party immediately regained its old

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 99
ascendency in the city. A new treaty was set on foot with the
king, and though long delayed by the efforts of the minority in par
liament, was at last on the point of being concluded and carried
into execution ; when the army, having once more crushed all arm
ed opposition, suddenly marched to London, and all was reversed.
Military usurpation became the order of the day. A great number
of presbyterians were forcibly expelled from the house of commons.
The lords, refusing to concur with the acts of the lower house thus
mutilated, were no longer acknowledged as a branch of the le
gislature. A high court of justice was erected by the commons for
the trial of " Charles Stuart king of England ;" and by the sentence
of that court after a public trial, the king was beheaded on the
thirtieth of January, 1649.
The Rump, for that was the name which the people in derision
applied to the remnant of the parliament, consisted chiefly of zeal
ous republicans, and was therefore resolved on the establishment
of a commonwealth which might surpass in renown the classic re
publics of antiquity. But, as the republicans were in fact only a
minority in the nation, it was felt that the people could not be
trusted with this favorite project. Therefore the existing members
of parliament must still retain the power in their own hands ; though
they made many fair promises that as soon as peace and order
should be established, they would resign their power, and give the
people an opportunity to elect new rulers. Meanwhile for the se
curity of the infant commonwealth, all the subjects were called on
to profess allegiance to its government. This promise was styled
the " engagement," and was thus expressed, " I do promise to be
true and faithful to the commonwealth, as it is now established,
without a king or house of lords."
In Scotland, Charles II. was proclaimed king, and was invited to
come over from Holland where he had found refuge, and to receive
his crown, on condition of his taking the covenant and submitting to
many additional restrictions and engagements. The Rump, see
ing no immediate danger likely to arise from that quarter, left the
Scots to settle their own government in their own way. Cromwell
was sent to command in Ireland, where after a bloody war of nine
month's, he established beyond resistance or dispute, the authori
ty of the commonwealth.

100 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
In the meantime Charles II. despairing of any other relief, had
accepted the proposals- of the Scots and had come over into that
kingdom. With a hypocrisy which has few parallels even in the
history of his own faithless family, he solemnly swore to the cove
nant. He published a formal declaration, setting forth his humilia
tion and grief for the wickedness of his father and the idolatry of his
mother, as well as for his own sins ; professing his detestation of all
popery, superstition, prelacy, heresy, schism, and profaneness; and
promising that he would never favor those who followed his interests,
in preference to the interests of the gospel and of the kingdom of
Christ. Those who ruled in England, saw that this attempted re
conciliation between Charles and the Scots, if attended with any
measure of success, must imply some invasion of their peace and
power ; and they resolved to be before-hand with the young king
and his new subjects. War was determined on ; and Fairfax hav
ing resigned his command, out of his presbyterian regard to the
covenant, Cromwell was made captain-general of all the forces.
With characteristic promptness he invaded Scotland, and soon re
duced the king to desperate circumstances. By a bold move
ment suited to such circumstances, Charles with the main body of
the Scottish army marched into England, hoping that his friends
there, and the many others who were dissatisfied with the existing
government, would instantly rally around him. In this he was dis
appointed ; Cromwell having left a detachment to complete the
subjugation of Scotland, followed hard after him, and at Worcester
his army was annihilated, and he himself putting on the disguise of
a servant with great difficulty escaped out of the kingdom. This
battle, which Cromwell called his " crowning mercy," was fought
on the third of September 1651.
Mutual dissatisfaction still existed between the parliament and
the army. Peace was now established ; the three kingdoms were
consolidated into one commonwealth ; and the parliament were
loudly reminded of the promises which they had made to abdicate
their power. Still they were unwilling to trust the people, and
they resolved on continuing their own authority. At this crisis,
Cromwell, having surrounded the house with soldiers, rose up in
his place, and declaring that God had called him to dissolve that

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 101
assembly, told them they were no longer a parliament and bid them
begone. Thus ended the Long Parliament, in 1653, and the only
government of the nation was in the hands of the general and his
council of officers.
By these men, after one short experiment of a parliament cho
sen by themselves, a new constitution was imposed on the nation.
Cromwell was invested with the power of a limited monarch, under
the title of Lord Protector of the Commonwealth ; and provision
was made"for triennial parliaments, to be elected by the people.
Under this government, though royalists and republicans, prelatists
and presbyterians, papists and fanatics, united in hating it, the peo
ple enjoyed order and prosperity till the death of the Protector.
We now return to Baxter's personal history, to the elucidation of
which this survey of public events seemed necessary.
"I have related how after my bleeding a gallon of blood, by the
nose, that I was left weak at Sir Thomas Rouse's house, at Rous
Lench, where I was taken up with daily medicines to prevent a
dropsy ; and being conscious that my time had not been improved
to the service of God as I desired it had been, I put up many an
earnest prayer, that God would restore me, and use me more suc
cessfully in his work. Blessed be that mercy which heard my
groans in the day of my distress ; and gratified my desires and
wrought my deliverance when men and means failed, and gave
me opportunity to celebrate his praise.
"Whilst I there continued, weak and unable to preach, the
people of Kidderminster had again renewed their-articles against
their old vicar and his curate. Upon trial of the cause, the com
mittee sequestered the place, but put no one into it ; but put the
profits in the hands of divers of the inhabitants, to pay a preacher
till it were disposed of. They sent to me and desired me to take
it, in case I were again enabled to preach; which I flatly refused,
and told them I would take only the lecture, which, by his own con
sent and bond, I held before. Hereupon they sought Mr. Brum-
skill and others to accept the place, but could not meet with any
one to their minds; therefore, they chose one Mr Richard Serjeant
to officiate, reserving the vicarage for some one that was fitter.

102 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
"When I was able, after about five months, to go abroad, I went
to Kidderminster, where I found only Mr. Serjeant in possession ;
and the people again vehemently urged me to take the vicarage ;
which I denied, and got the magistrates and burgesses together into
the townhall, and told them, that though I had been offered many
hundred pounds per annum elsewhere, I was willing to continue
with them in my old lecturer's place, which I had before the wars,
expecting they would make the maintenance a hundred pounds a
year, and a house ; and if they would promise to submit to that
doctrine of Christ, which as his minister, I should deliver to them,
proved by the holy scriptures, I would not- leave them. And that
this maintenance should neither come out of their own purses, nor
any more of it out of the tithes, save the sixty pounds which the
vicar had before bound himself to pay me, I undertook to procure
an augmentation for Mitton (a chapel in the parish) of forty ponnds
per annum, which I did; and so the sixty pounds and that forty
were to be my part, and the rest I was to have nothing to do with.
This covenant was drawn up between us in articles, and subscribed ;
in which I disclaimed the vicarage and pastoral charge of the pa
rish, and only undertook the lecture.
" Thus the sequestration continued in the hands of the towns
men, as aforesaid, who gathered the tithes and paid me (not a
hundred as they promised) but eighty pounds per annum, or ninety
at most, and house-rent for a few rooms in the top of another
man's house, which is all I had at Kidderminster. The rest they
gave to Mr. Sergeant, and about forty pounds per annum to the
old vicar ; six pounds per annum to the king and lord for rents,
and a few other charges."
"Besides this ignorant vicar, there was a chapel in the parish,
where was an old curate as ignorant as he, that had long lived upon
ten pounds a year and unlawful marriages, and was a drunkard and
a railer, and the scorn of the country. I knew not how to keep
him from reading, for I judged it a sin to tolerate him in any sacred
office. I got an augmentation for the place, and an honest preach
er to instruct them, and let this scandalous fellow keep his former
stipend of ten pounds for nothing; and yet could never keep him
from forcing himself upon the people to read, nor from unlawful

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTF.R. ] 03
marriages, till a little before death did call him to his account. I
have examined him about the familiar points of religion and he
could not say half so much to me as I have heard a child say.*
During the revolutionary times which followed, Baxter's feelings
were enlisted chiefly with the presbyterian party. His views of
Cromwell and of the sectarians have already been sufficiently ex
hibited. He had many conscientious scruples about the allegiance
due to the person of the king ; and therefore he abhorred not only
the execution of Charles, but all the distinctive principles and mea
sures ofthe party which finally predominated. And as he felt, so
he always acted. " When the soldiers were going against the
king and the Scots, I wrote letters to some of them," he says,
" to tell them of their sin, and desired them at last to begin to
know themselves, it being those same men that have so much boast
ed of love to all the godly, and pleaded for tender dealing with
them, who are now ready to imbrue their swords in the blood of
such as they acknowledge to be godly."
" At the same time, the Rump who so much abhorred persecu
tion, and were for liberty of conscience, made an order that all
ministers should keep their days of humiliation to fast and pray for
their success in Scotland, and that we should keep their days of
thanksgiving for their victories, and this upon pain of sequestra
tion : so that we all expected to be turned out. But they did not
execute it upon any save one in our parts :" a fact which shows
that their love of toleration was not mere profession.
" For my part," continues the narrative, " instead of praying
and preaching for them, when any of the committee or soldiers
were my hearers, I labored to help them understand what a crime
it was to force men to pray for the success of those who were vio
lating their covenant and loyalty, and going, in such a cause to kill
their brethren." " My own hearers were all satisfied with my doc
trine ; but the committee men looked sour, but let me alone.
And the soldiers said, I was so like to Love, that I would not be
right till I was shorter by the head. Yet none of them ever med-

* Narrative* Part I. pp. 79, 80.

104 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
died with me, farther than, by the tongue; nor was I ever by any
of them in those times forbidden or hindered to preach one sermon,
only one assize sermon, which the high sheriff had desired me to
preach, and afterwards sent me word to forbear, and not to preach
before the judges, because I preached against the state. But af
terwards they excused it, as done merely in kindness to me, to
keep me from running myself into danger and trouble."*
Christopher Love who is referred to in the preceding paragraph,
was one of eight presbyterian ministers in London, who, with others,
were arrested on account of some measures which they were se
cretly pursuing to aid the king, and to unite the Presbyterians with
the Scots in maintaining his authority. Seven were pardoned on
the recantation of one of them ; but Love, and another, a layman
concerned in the same conspiracy, were made examples of pub
lic justice. He " was beheaded, dying neither timorously nor
proudly in any desperate bravado, but with as great alacrity and
fearless quietness as if he had but gone to bed, and had been as
litde concerned as the standers by."
Baxter's conscientious scruples, and his presbyterian feelings
would of course lead him to refuse any distinct acknowledg
ment of the government which was erected after the express abo
lition of monarchy. When the " engagement," or promise of
fidelity to the commonwealth, was put upon the people, he took his
stand fearlessly against it. -
" For my own part," he says, " though I kept the town and
parish of Kidderminster from taking the covenant, seeing how it
might become a snare to their consciences ; yea, and most of Wor
cestershire besides, by keeping the ministers from offering it in any
ofthe congregations to the people, except in Worcester city, where
I had no great interest, and knew not what they did ; yet I could
not judge it seemly for him that believed there is a God, to play
fast and loose with a dreadful oath, as if the bonds of national and
personal vows were as easily shaken off as Sampson's cords. —
Therefore I spake and preached against the engagement, and dis
suaded men from taking it."f
* Narrative, Part I. p. 67. JNarative, Part I. p. 61.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 105
The principles by which he regulated his conduct in regard to
the government of Cromwell, while it continued, he thus describes.
" I did seasonably and moderately, by preaching and printing, con
demn the usurpation, and the deceit which was the means to bring
it to pass. 1 did in open conference declare Cromwell and his
adherents to be guilty of treason and rebellion, aggravated by per-
fidiousness and hypocrisy. But yet I did not think it my duty to
rave against him in the pulpit, nor to do this so unseasonably and
imprudently as might irritate him to mischief. And the rather be
cause, as he kept up his approbation of a godly life in general, and
and of all that was good, except that which the interest of his sin
ful cause engaged him to be against ; so I perceived that it was his
design to do good in the main, and to promote the gospel and the
interest of godliness, more than any had done before him ; except
in those particulars which his own interest was against. The
principal means that hence-forward he trusted to for his own estab
lishment, was doing good that the people might love him, or at
least be willing to have his government for that good, who were
against it as it was usurpation. And I made no question but that
when the rightful governor was restored, the people who had
adhered to him, being so extremely irritated, would cast out multi
tudes of the ministers, and undo the good which the usurper had
done, because he did it, and would bring abundance of calamity
upon the land. Some men thought it a very hard question, whether
they should rather wish the continuance of an usurper that will do
good, or the restitution of a rightful governor whose followers will do
hurt. For my own part, I thought my duty was clear to disown the
usurper's sin what good soever he would do ; and to perform all
my engagements to a rightful governor, leaving the issue of all to
God ; but yet to commend the good which an usurper doth, and to
do any lawful thing which may provoke him to do more ; and to
approve of no evil which is done by any, either usurper or lawful
governor."* At a later period he seems to have changed his mind, respecting
the course of conduct here recorded. In 1691, he wrote, " I am

* Narrative, Part I. p. 71.
Vol. I. 14

106

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

in great doubt how far I did well or ill in my opposition to Crom
well and his army at last. I am satisfied that it was my duty to dis
own, and as I said, to oppose their rebellion and other sins. But
there were many honest, pious men among them. And when God
chooseth the executioner of justice as he pleaseth, I am oft in doubt
whether I should not have been more passive and silent than I was ;
though not as Jeremiah to Nebuchadnezzar, to persuade men to
submit, yet to have forborne some sharp public preaching and wri
ting against them, — when they set themselves too late to promote
piety to ingratiate their usurpation. To disturb possessors neededi
a clear call, when for what end soever they do that good, which
men of better title will destroy."*
But it is more pleasant to turn, from the confusion of these public
changes, to the calm laborious life of the diligent pastor among the
people of his charge. In what circumstances Baxter first found
the people of Kidderminster ; what hatred and opposition he en
countered ; and how the violence ofthe infuriated rabble compel
led him to flee for safety, after a two years residence among them ;
need not be here repeated. The recollection of these things, howev
er, imparts additional interest to the record of his labors and success
es among the same people in more favorable circumstances. The
story of his life as a pastor, cannot he better told than in his own
words. si I shall next record to the praise of my Redeemer, the com
fortable employment and successes which he vouchsafed me during
my abode at Kidderminster, under all these weaknesses. And,
1st. I will mention my employment. 2. My successes. And,
3. Those advantages by which, under God, they were procured.
" Before the wars, I preached twice each Lord's day; but after
the war, but once, and once every Thursday, besides occasional
sermons. Every Thursday evening, my neighbors, who were
most desirous, aud had opportunity, met at my house, and there
one of them repeated the sermon ; afterwards they proposed what
doubts any of them had about the sermon, or any other case of con
science ; and I resolved their doubts : last of all, I caused sotne-
* Penitent Confessions, pp. 24, 25, quoted by Orme.

LIFE OF RICH Alt!) BAXTER. 107
times one and sometimes another of them to pray, to exercise"
them ; and sometimes I prayed with them myself : which, beside
singing a psalm, was all they did. And once a week, also, some
of the younger sort, who were not fit to pray in so great an assem
bly, met among a few more privately, where they spent three
hours in prayer together. Every Saturday night, they met at some
of their houses, to repeat the sermon of the last Lord's day, and to
pray and preparejthemselves for the following day. Once in a few
weeks, we had a day of humiliation on one occasion or other.
Every religious woman that was safely delivered, instead ofthe old
feastings and gossippings, if they Were able, did keep a day of
thanksgiving with some of their neighbors, with them, praising God,
and singing psalms, and soberly feasting together. Two days eve
ry week, my assistant and myself took fourteen families between
us, for private catechising and conference ; he going through the
parish, and the town coming to me. I first heard them recite the-
words ofthe catechism, and then examined them about the sense ;
and lastly, urged them, with all possible engaging reason and ve-
hemency, to answerable affection and practice. If any of them1
were stalled through ignorance or basbfulness, I forbore to press •
them any farther to answers, but made them hearers, and either-
examined others, or turned all into instruction and exhortation.-
But this I have opened more fully in my Reformed Pastor, t
spent about an hour with each family, and admitted no others to1
be present ; lest bashfulness should make it burthensome, or any
should talk of the weaknesses of others : so that all the afternoons
on Mondays and Tuesdays I spent in this, after I had begun it,
(for it was many years before I did attempt it,) and my assistant
spent the morning ofthe same day in the same employment. Be
fore that, I only catechised them In the church, and conferred
with now and then one, occasionally.
" Beside all this, I was forced, five or six years, by the people's
necessity, to practise physic. A common pleurisy happening one
year, and no physk-ian being near, 1 was forced to advise them, to
save their lives ; and I could not afterwards avoid the importunity
ofthe town and country round about. And because I never took a
penny of any one, I was crowded with patients ; so that almost

108 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
twenty would be at my door at once : and though God, by more
success than I expected, so long encouraged me, yet, at last, I
could endure it no longer ; partly because it hindered my other stu
dies, and partly because the very fear of miscarrying and doing any
one harm, did make it an intolerable burden to me- So that, af
ter some years' practice, I procured a godly diligent physician to
come and live in the town, and bound myself, by promise, to prac
tise no more, unless in consultation with him, in case of any seem
ing necessity ; and so with that answer I turned them all off, and
never meddled with it again.
" But all these my labors (except my private conference with
the families,) even preaching and preparing for it, were but my
recreations, and, as it were, the work of my spare hours ; for my
writings were my chiefest daily labor ; which yet went the more
slowly on, that I never one hour had an amanuensis to dictate to,
and especially because my weakness took up so much of my time.
For all the pains that my infirmities ever brought upon me, were
never half so grievous an affliction as the unavoidable loss of my
time which they occasioned. I could not bear, through the weak
ness of my stomach, to rise before seven o'clock in the morning,
and afterwards not till much later ; and some infirmities I labored
under, made it above an hour before I could be dressed. An hour,
I must of necessity have to walk before dinner, and another before
supper ; and after supper I can seldom study : all which, beside
times of family duties, and prayer, and eating, &c. leaveth me but
little time to study : which hath been the greatest external personal
affliction of all my life.
" Besides all these, every first Wednesday of the month was our
monthly meeting for parish discipline ; and every first Thursday of
the month, was the ministers' meeting for discipline and dispu
tation. In those disputations it fell to my lot to be almost constant
moderator ; and for every such day, usually, I prepared a written
determination ; all which I mention as my mercies and delights,
and not as my burdens. Every Thursday, besides, I had the
company of divers gpdly ministers at my house, after the lecture,
with whom I spent that afternoon in the truest recreation, till my
neighbors came to meet for their exercise of repetition and prayer.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 109
" For ever blessed be the God of mercies, that brought me from
the grave, and gave me, after wars and sickness, fourteen years'
liberty in such sweet employment ! and that, in times of usurpa
tion, I had all this mercy and happy freedom ; when under our
rightful king and governor, I, and many hundreds more, are si
lenced and laid by as broken vessels, and suspected and vilified
as scarce to be tolerated to live privately and quietly in the land !
that God should make days of licentiousness and disorder under an
usurper so great a mercy to me, and many a thousand more, who
under the lawful governors which they desired, and in the days
when order is said to be restored, do sit in obscurity and unpro
fitable silence, and some lie in prison ; and all of us are accounted
as the scum and sweepings, or offscourings of the earth.
" I have mentioned my sweet and acceptable employment ;;
let me, to the praise of my gracious Lord, acquaint you with some
of my success ; and I will not suppress it, though I foreknow that
the malignant will impute the mention of it to pride and ostentation.
For it is the sacrifice of thanksgiving which I owe to my most gra
cious God, which I will not deny him, for fear of being censured
as proud ; lest I prove myself proud, indeed, while I cannot under
go the imputation of pride in the performance of my thanks for
such undeserved mercies.
" My public preaching met with an attentive, diligent auditory.
Having broke over the brunt of the opposition of the rabble before
the wars, I found them afterwards tractable and unprejudiced.
Before I entered into the ministry, God blessed my private confe
rence to the conversion of some, who remain firm and eminent in
holiness to this day : but then, and in the beginning of my ministry,
I was wont to number them as jewels; but since then I could not
keep any number of them. The congregation was usually full, so>
that we were fain to build five galleries after my coming thither ;
the church itself being very capacious, and the most commodious
and convenient that ever I was in. Our private meetings, also,
wqre full. On the Lord's days there wasno disorder to be seen in
tht streets; but you might hear a hundred families singing psalms
and repeating sermons as you passed through the streets. In a
word, when I came thither first, there was about one family in a

110 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
street that worshipped God and called on his name, and when I
came away, there were some streets where there was not past one
family in the side that did not do so; and did not, by professing
serious godliness, give us hopes of their sincerity. And in those
families which were the worst, being inns and alehouses, usually
some persons in each house did seem to be religious.
"Though our administration of the Lord's Supper was so order
ed as displeased many, and the far greater part kept away them
selves, yet we had six hundred that were communicants ; of whom
there were not twelve that I had not good hopes of, as to their sin
cerity ; and those few that did consent to our communion, and
yet lived scandalously, were excommunicated afterwards. And I
hope there were many who had the fear of God, that came not to
our communion in the sacrament, some of them being kept off by
husbands, by parents, by masters, and some dissuaded by men
that differed from us. Those many that kept away, yet took
it patiently, and did not revile us as doing them wrong; and those
unruly young men who were excommunicated, bore it patiently
as to their outward behavior, though their hearts were full of
bitterness. " When I set upon personal conference with each family, and
catechising tbem, there were very few families in all the town
that refused to come ; and those few were beggars at the town's
ends, who were so ignorant, that they were ashamed it should be
manifest. Few families went from me without some tears, or
seemingly serious promises of a godly life. Yet many ignorant
and ungodly persons there were still among us ; but most of them
were in the parish, and not in the town, and in those parts of the
parish which were farthest from the town. And whereas one
part of the parish was impropriate, and paid tithes to laymen, and
the other part maintained the church, a brook dividing them, it
fell out that almost all that side of the parish which paid tithes to
the church, were godly, honest people, and did it willingly, with
out contention, and most of the bad people of the parish lived
on the other side. Some of the poor men did competently un
derstand the body of divinity, and were able to judge in difficult
controversies. Some of them were so able in prayer, that very

LIFK OF RICHARD BAXTKH. Ill
few ministers did match them in order, and fullness, and apt ex
pressions, and holy oratory, with fervency. Abundance of them
were able to pray very laudably with their families, or with others.
The temper of their minds, and the innocency of their lives, were
much more laudable than their parts. The professors of serious
godliness were generally of very humble minds and carriage ; of
meek and quiet behavior unto others ; and of blamelessness and
innocency iu their conversation.
" God was pleased also to give me abundant encouragement in
the lectures, I preached about in other places ; as at Worcester,
Cleobury, &c, but especially at Dudley and Sheffiial. At the
former of which, being the first place that ever I preached in,
the poor nailers, and other laborers, would not only crowd the
church as full as ever I saw any in London, but also hang upon the
windows and the leads without.
" In my poor endeavors with my brethren in the ministry, my
labors were not lost; our disputations proved not unprofitable.
Our meetings were never contentious, but always comfortable ; we
took great delight in the society of each other ; so that I know that
the remembrance of those days is pleasant both to them and me.
When discouragements had long kept me from motioning a way of
church order and discipline, which all might agree in, that we might
neither have churches ungoverned, nor fall into divisions among
ourselves ; at the first mentioning of it, I found a readier consent
than I could expect, and all went on without any great obstructing
difficulties. When I attempted also to bring them all conjointly to
the work of catechising and instructing every family by itself, I
found a ready consent in most, and performance in many.
" So that I must here, to the praise of my dear Redeemer, set
up this pillar of remembrance, even to his praise wtio hath employ
ed me so many years in so comfortable a work, with such encour
aging success. O what am I, a worthless worm, not only wanting
academical honors, but much of that furniture which is needful to
so high a work, that God should thus abundantly encourage me,
when the reverend instructors of my youth did labor fifty years
together in one place, and could scarcely say they had converted
one or two in their parishes ! and the greater was this mercy, be-

112 LIFE "OF RICHARD BAXTER.
cause I was naturally of a discouraged spirit ; so that if I had
preached one year, and seen no fruits of it, I should hardly have
forborne running away, like Jonah ; but should have thought that
God called not to that place. Yea the mercy was yet greater, in
that it was of farther public benefit. For some independents and
anabaptists that had before conceited that parish churches were the
great obstruction of all true church order and discipline, and that it
was impossible to bring them to any good consistency, did quite
change their minds when they saw what was done at Kiddermin
ster." "And tbe zeal and knowledge of this poor people provoked
many in other parts of the land. And though I have been now
absent from them about six years, and they have been assaulted
with pulpit calumnies and slanders, with threatenings and imprison
ments, with enticing words and seducing reasonings, they yet
stand fast, and keep their integrity. Many of them are gone to
God and some are removed, and some now in prison, and most still
at home, but none, that I hear of, that are fallen off, or forsake their
uprightness. " Having related my comfortable successes in this place, I shall
next tell you by what and how many advantages this was effected,
under that grace which worketh by means, though with a free di
versity ; which I do chiefly for their sakes who would know the
means of other men's experiments in managing ignorant and sinful
parishes. " 1. One advantage was, that I came to a people wbo never
had any awakening ministry before, but a few formal cold ser
mons of the curate ; for if they had been hardened under a
powerful ministry, and had been sermon proof, I should have ex
pected less.
" 2. Another advantage was, that at first I was in the vigor of my
spirits, and had naturally a familiar moving voice, (which is a great
matter with the common hearers,) and doing all in bodily
weakness as a dying man, my soul was the more easily
brought to seriousness, and to preach as a dying man to dying
men. For drowsy formality and customariness doth but stupify

LIFK OF RICHARD BAXTER. 113
the hearers, and rock them asleep. It must be serious preaching,
which will make men serious in hearing and obeying it.
" 3. Another advantage was, that most of the bitter enemies of
godliness in the town who rase in tumults against me before, in
their hatred of Puritans, had gone out into wars, into* the king's ar
mies, and were quickly killed, and few of them ever returned
again ; and so there were few to make any great opposition to god
liness. "4. Another and the greatest advantage was, the change that
was made in the public affairs, by the success of the wars, which,
however it was done, and though much corrupted by the usurpers,
yet was such as removed many and great impediments to men's
salvation. For before, the riotous rabble had boldness enough to
make serious godliness a common scorn, and call them all Puri
tans and Precisians who did not care as little for God, and heaven,
and their souls, as they did ; especially if a man was not fully sa
tisfied with their undisciplined, disordered churches, or lay-chan
cellor's excommunications, &c. Then, no name was bad enough
for him ; and the bishop's articles inquiring after such, and their
courts, and the high-commission grievously afflicting those who did
but fast and pray together, or go from an ignorant, drunken reader,
to hear a godly, able preacher at the next parish, kept religion
among the vulgar under either continual reproach or terror ; en
couraging the rabble to despise it and revile it, and discouraging
those that else would own it. Experience telleth us, that it is a la
mentable impediment to men's conversion when it is a 'way every
where spoken against,' and persecuted by superiors, which they
must embrace ; and when at their first approaches, they must go
through such dangers and obloquy as is fitter for confirmed chris
tians to be exercised with, than unconverted sinners or young be
ginners. Therefore, though Cromwell gave liberty to all sects
among us, and did not set up any party alone by force, yet this
much gave abundant advantage to the gospel, removing the preju
dices and the terrors which hindered it; especially considering that
godliness had countenance and reputation also, as well as liberty.
Whereas before, if it did not appear in all the fetters and formalities
of the times, it was the common way to shame and ruin. Hearing
15

114 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
sermons abroad, when there were none or worse at home ; fasting
and praying togelher; the strict observation of the Lord's day, and
such-like, went under the dangerous name of puritanism, as well as
opposing bishops and ceremonies.
"I know in these times you may meet with men who confidently
affirm that all religion was then trodden down, and heresy and
schism were the only piety ; but I give warning to all ages by the
experience of this incredible age, that they take heed how they
believe any, whoever they be, while they are speaking for the in
terest of their factions and opinions, against those that were their
real or supposed adversaries.
" For my part I bless God, who gave me even under an usur
per whom I opposed, such liberty and advantage to preach his gos
pel with success, as I cannot have under a king to whom I have
sworn and performed true subjection and obedience ; yea, such as
no age, since the gospel came into this land, did before possess, as
far as I can learn from history. I shall add this much more for
the sake of posterity, that as much as I have said and written
against licentiousness in religion, and for the magistrates' power in
it; and though I think that land most happy whose rulers use their
authority for Christ, as well as for the civil peace; yet, in compa
rison of the rest of the world, I shall think that land happy which
hath but bare liberty to be as good as the people are willing to be.
And if countenance and maintenance be but added to liberty, and
tolerated errors and sects be but forced to keep die peace, and not
to oppose the substantial of Christianity, I shall not hereafter
much fear such toleration, nor despair that truth will bear down
adversaries. " 5. Another advantage which I found, was the acceptation of
my person among the people. Though to win estimation and love
to ourselves only, be an end that none but proud men and hypo
crites intend, yet it is most certain that the gratefulness of the per
son doth ingratiate the message, and greatly prepareth the people
to receive the truth. Had they taken me to be ignorant, erro
neous, scandalous, worldly, self-seeking, or such like, I could have
expected small success among them.
"6. Another advantage which I had, was the zeal and diligence

HFK OF RIOIIWU) BAXTF.K. 115
of ihe godly of the place ; who thirsted after the salvation of their
neighbors, and were in private my assistants, and being dispersed
through the town, were ready in almost all companies to repress se
ducing words, and to justify godliness, and convince, reprove, ex
hort men according to their deeds ; as also to teach them how to
pray; and to help them to sanctify the Lord's day. For those
people that had none in their families who could pray; or repeat
the sermons, went to their next neighbor's house who could do it,
and joined with them ; so that some of the houses of the ablest
men in each street, were filled with them that could do nothing, or
little in their own.
" 7. And the holy, humble, blameless lives of the religious soii
were also a great advantage to me. The malicious people could not
say, Your professors here are as proud and covetous as any; but the
blameless lives of godly people did shame opposers, an>d: put to si
lence the ignorance of foolish men, and many were woffl by their
good conversation.
" 8. Our unity and concord were a great advantage to' us ; and
our freedom from those sects and heresies, with which many other
places were infected. We had no private church, and though we
had private meetings, we had not pastor against pastor, or church
against church, or sect against sect, or christian against christian.
There was none that had any odd opinions of his own, or censured
his teacher as erroneous, or questioned his call. At Bewdley,
there was a church of Anabaptists ; at Worcester, the Indepen
dents gathered theirs. But we were all of one mirfd, and mouth,
and way ; not a Separatist, Anabaptist, or Antinornian in the town.
One journeyman shoemaker turned Anabaptist, but he left the
town upon it, and went among them. Where people saw diversity
of sects and churches in any place, it greatly hindered their con
version ; and they were at a loss, and knew not what party to be
of, or what way to %o, and therefore would be of no religion at all,
and perhaps derided them all, whom they saw thus disagreed.
But they had no such offense or objection there; they could not
ask, Which church or party, shall I be of, for we were all but as
one. Nay, so modest were the ablest of the people, that they nev
er were inclined to a preaching way, nor to make ostentation of

416 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
their parts; but took warning by the pride of others; and thought
they had teaching enough by their pastors, and that it was better
for them to bestow their labor in digesting that than in preaching
themselves. " 9. Our private meetings were a marvellous help to the propa
gating of godliness, for thereby, truths that slipped away, were
recalled, and the seriousness of the people's minds renewed, and
good desires cherished. Their knowledge, also, was much in
creased by them, and the younger sort learned to pray by frequent
ly hearing others. And here I had opportunity to know their
case ; for if any were touched and awakened in public, I should
presently see him drop into our private meetings. Hereby also idle
meetings and loss of time were greatly prevented ; and so far were
we from being by this in danger of schism, or divisions, that it was
the principal means to prevent them : for here I was usually pres
ent with them, answering their doubts, and silencing objections,
and moderating them in all. And some private meetings, I fonnd
they were exceedingly much inclined to ; and if I had not allowed
them such as were lawful and profitable, they would have been rea
dy to run to such as were unlawful and hurtful. And by encour
aging them here in the fit exercise of their parts, in repetition,
prayer, and asking questions, I kept them from inclining to the dis
orderly exercise of them, as the Sectaries do. We had no meet
ings in opposition to the public meetings, but all in subordination to
them ; and under my oversight and guidance, which proved a way
profitable to all.
" 10. Another thing which advantaged us, was some public dis
putations which we had with gainsayers, which very much con
firmed the people. The Quakers would fain have got entertain
ment, and set up a meeting in the town, and frequently railed at
me in the congregation ; but when I had once given them leave to
meet in the church for a dispute, and, before the people, had open
ed their deceits and shame, none would entertain them more, nor
did they get one proselyte among us."
"11. Another advantage, was the great honesty and diligence
of my assistants."
' 12. Another was the presence and countenance of honest jus-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 117
tices of peace," " who ordinarily were godly men, and always such
as would be thought so, and were ready to use their authority to
suppress sin and promote goodness."
" J 3. Another help to my success, was that small relief which
my low estate enabled me to afford the poor. Though the place
was reckoned at near two hundred pounds per annum, there came
but ninety pounds, and sometimes only eighty pounds to me. Be
side which, some years I had sixty, or eighty pounds a year of the
booksellers for my books : which little, dispersed among them,
much reconciled them to the doctrine that I taught. I look the
aptest of their children from the school, and sent divers of them to
the universities ; where for eight pounds a year, or ten, at most,
by the help of my friends there, I maintained them." " Some of
these are honest, able ministers, now cast out with their brethren ;
but, two or three, having no other way to live, turned great Con
formists, and are preachers now. In giving the little I had, I did
not inquire whether they were good or bad, if they asked relief;
for the bad had souls and bodies that needed charity most. And
I found that three pence or a groat to every poor body that asked
me, was no great matter in a year ; but a few pounds in that way of
giving would go far. And this truth 1 will speak to the encour
agement of the charitable, that what little money I have now by
me, I got it almost all, I scarce know how, at that time when I
gave most, and since I have had less opportunity of giving, I have
had less increase.
" 14. Another furtherance of my work, was the writings which I
wrote, and gave away among them. Of some small books I gave
each family one, which came to about eight hundred ; and of the
bigger, I gave fewer : and every family that was poor, and had
not a Bible, I gave a Bible to. I had found myself the benefit of
reading to be so great, that I could not but think it would be pro
fitable to others.
" 15. And it was a great advantage to me, that my neighbors
were of such a trade, as allowed them time enough to read or talk
of holy things. For the town liveth upon the weaving of Kidder
minster stuffs ; and, as they stand in their looms, the men can set
a book before them, or edify one another ; whereas, ploughmen,

H8 MFF. OF RICHARD BAXTER.
and many others, are so wearied, or continually employed, either
in the labors, or the cares of their callings, that it is a great im
pediment to their salvation. Freeholders and tradesmen are the
strength of religion and civility in the land ; and gentlemen, and
beggars, and servile tenants, are the strength of iniquity. Though
among these sorts, there are some also that are good and just, as
among the other there are many bad. And their constant con
verse and traffic with London, doth much promote civility and pie
ty among tradesmen.
"16. I found also that my single life afforded me much advan
tage : for I could the easier take my people for my children, and
think all that I had too little for them, in that I had no children
of my own to tempt me to another way of using it. Being dis
charged from the most of family cares, and keeping but one servant,
I had the greater vacancy and liberty for the labors of my calling.
" 17. God made use of my practice of physic among them also
as a very great advantage to my ministry ; for they that cared not
for their souls, did love their lives, and care for their bodies ; and,
by this, they were made almost as observant, as a tenant is of his
landlord. Sometimes I could see before me in the church, a ve
ry considerable part of the congregation, whose lives God had
made me a means to save, or to recover their health ; and doing
it for nothing so obliged them, that they would readily hear me.
" 18. It was a great advantage to me, that there were at last
few that were bad, but some of their own relations were converted :
many children did God work upon, at fourteen, fifteen, or sixteen
years of age ; and this did marvellously reconcile the minds of the
parents and elder sort to godliness. They that would not hear me,
would hear their own children. Tbey that before could have
talked against godliness, would not hear it spoken against, when it
was their children's case. Many who would not be brought to it
themselves, were proud that they had understanding, religious
children ; and we had some old persons of eighty years of age,
who aie, I hope, in heaven, and the conversion of their own chil
dren, was the chief means to overcome their prejudice, and old
customs, and conceits.
" 19. And God made great use of sickness to do good to many.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTKR. 119
For though sick-bed promises are usually soon forgotten; yet it
was otherwise with many among us ; and as soon as they were re
covered, they came first to our private meetings, and so kept in a
learning state till further fruits of piety appeared.
" 20. And I found that our disownirg the iniquity of the times
did tend to the good of many. For they despised those that al
ways followed the stronger side, and justified every wickedness
that was done by the stronger parly." " And had I owned the guilt
of others, it would have been my shame, and the hindrance of my
work, and provoked God to have disowned me.
"21. Another of my great advantages was, the true worth and
unanimity of the honest ministers of the country round about us,
who associated in a way of concord with us. Their preaching was
powerful and sober ; their fruits peaceable and meek, disowning
the treasons and iniquities of the times as well as we. They were
wholly addicted to the winning of souls ; self-denying, and of most
blameless lives ; evil-spoken of by no sober men, but greatly be
loved by their own people and all that knew them ; adhering to no
faction ; neither episcopal, presbyterian, nor independent, as to
parties ; but desiring union, and loving that which is good in all.
These, meeting weekly at our lecture, and monthly at our dispu
tation, constrained a reverence in the people to their worth and
unity, and consequently furthered my work."
" 22. Another advantage to me was the quality of the sinners of
the place. There were two drunkards almost at the next doors to
me, who one by night, and the other by day, did constantly every
week, if not twice or thrice a Veek, roar and rave in the streets
like stark mad men. These were so beastly and ridiculous, that
they made that sin, of which we were in most danger, the more
abhorred. " 23. Another advantage to me was the quality of the apostates
ofthe place. If we had been troubled with mere Separatists,
Anabaptists, or others that erred plausibly and tolerably, they might
perhaps have divided us, and drawn away disciples after them.
But we had only two professors that fell offin the wars ; and one or
two that made no profession of godliness were drawn in to them.
Those that fell off, were such as before, by their want of grounded

120 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
understanding, humility, and mortification, gave us the greatest
suspicion of their stability ; and they fell to no less than familism
and infidelity, making a jest ofthe scripture and of the essentials
of Christianity. And as they fell from the faith, so they fell to
drinking, gaming, furious passions, (horribly abusing their wives,
and thereby saving them from their errors,) and to a vicious life.
So that they stood up as pillars and monuments of God's justice, to
warn all others to take heed of self-conceitedness and heresies, and
of departing from truth and Christian unity. And so they were a
principal means to keep out all sects and errors from the town.
"2-t. Another great help to my success at last, was the fore-
described work of personal conference with every family apart,
nd catechising and instructing them. That which was spo
ken to them personally, and which put them sometimes upon an
swers, awakened their attention, and was easier applied than pub
lic preaching, and seemed to do much more upon them.
" 25. And the exercise of church discipline was no small fur
therance ofthe people's good : fori found plainly, that without it,
I could not have kept the religious sort from separations and divis
ions. There is something generally in their dispositions, which
inchneth them to dissociate from open ungodly sinners, as men
of another nature and society ; and if they had not seen me do
something reasonable for a regular separation of the notorious, ob
stinate sinners from the rest, they would irregularly have withdrawn
themselves ; and it had not been in my power with bare words to
satisfy them, when they saw we had liberty to do what we would.
"It was my greatest care and contrivance so to order this work,
that we might neither make a mere mock-show of discipline, nor,
with Independents, unchurch the parish church, and gather a church
out of them anew. Therefore all the ministers associate agreed to
gether, to practise so much discipline as the Episcopal, Presbyte
rians, and Independents, were agreed on that presbyters might and
must do. And we told the people that we were not about to gath
er a new church, but taking the parish for the church, unless they
were unwilling to own their membership, we resolved to exercise
that discipline with all : only, because there are some papists and
familists or infidels among us, and because in these times of liberty

LIFE OF HICHARU BAXTER. 121
we cannot, nor desire to, compel any against their wills, we desired
all that did own their membership in this parish church, and take
us for their pastors, to give in their names, or any other way signi
fy that they do so; and those that are not willing to be members
and rather choose to withdraw themselves than live under discipline,
to be silent.
" And so, for fear of discipline, all the parish kept off except
about six hundred, when there were in all above sixteen hundred
at age to be communicants. Yet because it was their own doing,
and they knew they might come in when they would, they were
quiet in their separation ; for we took them for the Separatists.
Those that scrupled our gesture at the sacrament, I openly told
that they should have it in their own. Yet did I baptize all their
children, but made them first, as I would have done by strangers,
give me privately', or publicly if they had rather, an account of their
faith ; and if any father was a scandalous sinner, I made him con
fess his sin openly, with seeming penitence, before I would baptise
his child. If he refused it, I forbore till the mother came to pre
sent it ; for I rarely, if ever, found both father and mother so desti
tute of knowledge and faith, as in a church sense to be incapable
hereof. *' 26. Another advantage which I found to my success, was, by
ordering my doctrine to them in a suitableness to the main end,
and yet so as might suit their dispositions and diseases. The!
things which I daily opened to them, and with greatest importunity
labored to imprint upon their minds, were the great fundamental
principles of Christianity contained in their baptismal covenant, even
a right knowledge and belief of, and subjection and love to, God
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ; love to all men, and
concord with the church and one another. I did so daily incul
cate the knowledge of God our Creator, Redeemer, and Sancti-
fier, love and obedience to God, unity with the church catholic,
and love to men and the hope of life eternal, that these were the
matter of their daily cogitations and discourses, and indeed, their
religion. " Yet, I did usually put in something my sermon, which was
above their own discovery, and which they had not known before •
Vol. I. 16

122

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

and this I did that they might be kept humble, and still perceive
their ignorance, and be willing to keep in a learning state. For
when preachers tell their people of no more than they know, and
do not show that they excel them in knowledge, and easily overtop
them in abilities, the people will be tempted to turn preachers
themselves, and think that they have learned all that the ministers
can teach them, and are as wise as they. They will be apt to con
temn their teachers, and wrangle with all their doctrines, and set
their wits against them, and hear them as censurers, and not disci
ples, to their own undoing, and to the disturbance of the church ;
and they will easily draw disciples after them. The bare authority
of the clergy will not serve the turn, without overtopping ministerial
abilities. And I did this to increase their knowledge, and also
to make religion pleasant to them, by a daily addition to their for
mer light, and to draw them on with desire and delight. But these
things which they did not know before, were not unprofitable con
troversies which tended not to edification, or novelties in doctrine
contrary to the universal church ; but either such points as tended
to illustrate the great doctrines before mentioned, or usually about
the right methodizing of them ; the opening of the true and profit
able method of the creed or doctrine of faith ; the Lord's Prayer,
or matter of our desires; and the ten commandments, or the law
of practice.
" 27. Another help to my success was, that my people were not
rich. There were among them very few beggars ; because their
common trade of stuff-weaving would find work for all, men, wo
men, and children, that were able. And there were none of the
tradesmen very rich, seeing their trade was poor, that would but
find them food and raiment. The magistrates of the town were,
few of them, worth forty pounds per annum ; and most not half so
much. Three or four of the richest thriving masters of the trade,
got about five or six hundred ponnds in twenty years. The gene
rality of the master workmen, lived but a little better than their
journey men, from hand to mouth, but only diat they labored not al
together so hard.
"And it is the poor that receive the glad tidings ofthe gospel,
md that are usually rich in faith, and heirs of the heavenly riches

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 123
which God hath promised to them that love him. As Mr. George
Herbert saith in his church Militant,
" Gold and the gospel never did agree ;
Religion always sides with poverty."
" One knight, Sir Ralph Clare, who lived among us, did more to
hinder my greater successes than a multitude of others could have
done. Though he was an old man of great courtship and civility,
and very temperate as to diet, apparel, and sports, and seldom
would swear louder than " by his troth," etc. and showed me much
personal reverence and respect, beyond my desert, and we con
versed together with love and familiarity ; yet, (having no relish for
this preciseness, and extemporary praying, and making so much
ado for heaven ; nor liking that which went beyond the pace of
saying the common prayer ; and also the interest of himself and of
his civil and ecclesiastical parties leading him to be ruled by Dr.
Hammond,) his coming but once a day to church on the Lord's
days, and his abstaining from the sacrament, as if we kept not suffi
ciently to the old way, and because we used not the common pray
er book when it would have caused us to be sequestered, did cause
a great part ofthe parish to follow him, and do as he did, when else
our success and concord would have been much more happy than
it was. And yet his civility and yielding much beyond others of
his party, sending his family to be catechized and personally in
structed, did sway with almost the worst among us, to the like.
Indeed we had two other persons of quality, Col. John Bridges,
and at last Mrs Hanmer, that came from other places to live there,
and were truly and judiciously religious, who did much good ; for
when the rich are indeed religious and overcome their temptations,
as they may be supposed better than others, because their conquest
is greater, so they may do more good than others, because their
talents are more. But such are always comparatively few.
"28. Another thing that helped me, was my not meddling with
tithes or wordly business, whereby I had my whole time, except
what sickness deprived me of, for my duty, and my mind more free
from entanglements than else it would have been ; and, also, I es
caped the offending of the people, and contending by any law-suits

124 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
with them. Three or four of my neighbors managed all those
kinds of business, of whom I never took account; and if any one
refused to pay his tithes, if he was poor, I ordered them to forgive
him. (After that, I was constrained to let the tithes be gathered
as by my title, to save the gatherers from law-suits.) But if the
parties were able, I ordered them to seek it by the magistrate, with
the damage, and give both my part and the damages to the poor;
for I resolved to have none of it myself that was recovered by law,
and yet I could not tolerate the sacrilege and fraud of covetous
men. When they knew that this was the rule I went by, none of
them that were able would do the poor so great a kindness as to de
ny the payment of their tithes. In my family, I had the help
of my father and mother-in-law, and the benefit of a godly, under
standing, faithful servant, an ancient woman, near sixty years old,
who eased me of all care, and laid out all my money for house
keeping ; so that I never had one hour's trouble about it, nor ever
took one day's account of her for fourteen years together, as being
certain of her fidelity, providence, aad skill.
" 29.. And it much furthered my success, that I staid still in this
one place, near two years before the wars, and above fourteen
years after ; for he that removeth oft from place to place, may sow
good seed in many places, but is not likely to see much fruit in any.
unless some other skilful hand shall follow him to water it. It was
a great advantage to me to have almost all the religious people of
of the place, of my own instructing and informing ; and that they
were not formed into erroneous and factious principles before; and
that I staid to see them grow up to some confirmedness and ma
turity. " 30. Lasdy, our successes were enlarged beyond our own con
gregations, by the lectures kept up round about. To divers of them
I went so oft as I was able ; and the neighboring ministers, oftener
than I; especially Mr. Oasland, of Bewdley, who having a strong
body, a zealous spirit, and an earnest utterance, went up and down
preaching from place to place, with great acceptance and success.
But this business, also, we contrived to be universally and orderly
managed. For, beside the lectures set up on week days fixedly,
in several places, we studied how to have them extend to e"very

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 125
place in the county that had need. For when the parliament
purged the ministry, they cast out the grosser sort of insufficient
and scandalous ones, such as gross drunkards and such like ; and
also some few civil men that had assisted in the wars against the
parliament, or set up bowing to altars, or such innovations; but they
had left in nearly one half the ministers, that were not good enough
to do much service, or bad enough to be cast out as utterly intolera
ble. These were a company, of poor, weak preachers who had no
great skill in divinity, or zeal for godliness ; but preached weakly
that which is true, and lived in no gross, notorious sin. These men
were not cast out, but yet their people greatly needed help ; for
their dark, sleepy preaching did but little good. We, therefore, re
solved that some of the abler ministers should often voluntarily help
them ; but all the care was how to do it without, offending them.
"It fell out seasonably that the Londoners of that county, at their
yearly feast, collected about thirty pounds, and sent it to me by that
worthy man, Mr. Thomas Stanley, of Bread-street, to set up a lec
ture for that year. Whereupon we covered all our designs under
the name of the Londoner's Lecture, which took off the offence.
We choose four worthy men, Mr. Andrew Tristram, Mr. Henry
Oasland, Mr. Thomas Baldwin, and Mr. Joseph Treble, who un
dertook to go, each man his day, once a month, which was every
Lord's day between the four, and to preach at those places which
had most need twice on a Lord's day. To avoid all ill conse
quences and offence, they were sometimes to go to abler men's
congregations; and wherever they came, to say somewhat always
to draw the people to the honor and special regard of their own pas
tors, that, how weak soever they were, they might see that we
came not to draw away the people's hearts from them, but to
strengthen their hands, and help them in their work.
" This lecture did a great deal of good ; and though the Lon
doners gave their money but that one year, when it was once set on
foot, we continued it voluntarily, till the ministers were turned out
and all these works went down together.
" So much of the way and helps of those successes, which I
mention, because many have inquired after them, as willing, with

126

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

dieir own flocks, to take that course which other men have by ex
perience found to be effectual."*
Such was Baxter as a pastor ; and such were his successes. In
answer to the inquiry how far the progress of religion in other pla
ces might be supposed to correspond with what he testifies concern
ing Kidderminster, he says " I must bear this faithful witness to
those times, that as far as I was acquainted, where before there was
one godly preacher, there were then six or ten ; and taking one
place with another, 1 conjecture there is a proportionable increase
of truly godly people, not counting heretics, or perfidious rebels, or
church disturbers, as such. But this increase of godliness was not
in all places alike. For in some places where the ministers were
formal, or ignorant, or weak or imprudent, contentious or negligent,
the parishes were as bad as heretofore. And in some places,
where the ministers had excellent parts and holy lives, and thirsted
after the good of souls, and wholly devoted themselves, their time
and strength and estates, thereunto, and thought no pains or cost too
much, there abundance were converted to serious godliness. And
with those of a middle state, usually they had a middle measure of
success. And I must add this to the true information of posterity;
that God did so wonderfully bless the labors of his unanimous faith
ful ministers, that had it not for the faction of the prelatists on one
side that drew men off, and the factions of the giddy and turbulent
sectaries on the other side," "together with some laziness and self
ishness jn many of the ministry, I say had it not been for these im
pediments, England had been like in a quarter of an age to have
become a land of saints, and a pattern of holiness to all tbe world,
and the unmatchable paradise of the earth. Never were such fair
opportunities to sanctify a nation lost and trodden under foot, as
have been in" this land of late. Woe be to them that were the
causes of it !"
At this time there was no jurisdiction exercised either in or over
the national church of England, other than that which was exercised
by the civil goverment for the time being. The abolition of epis
copacy had not been succeeded by the establishment of the presby-
* Narrative, Part I. pp. 83 — 96.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 127
terian platform, or any other national system. The model framed
by the Westminster assembly, had indeed been adopted in Lon
don ; but it wanted the sanction of law, and was not received with
great favor by either ministers or people. In these circumstances,
the pastors in Worcestershire formed an association for mutual ad
vice and assistance in all matters relating to their official work, re
sembling very closely the associations of the congregational minis
ters in this country. Their example was followed in other parts of
England. In effecting this organization Baxter seems to have had
an important agency both in his own county and elsewhere. Re
specting the men who united in the Worcestershire association, he
says, " Though we made our terms large enough for all, episcopal,
presbyterians and independents, there was not one Presbyterian*
joined with us that I knew of, (for I knew of but one in all the
county;) nor one independent, though two or three honest ones
said nothing against us; nor one of the new prelatical way, but
three or four moderate conformists that were for the old episcopa
cy : and all the rest were mere catholics, men of no faction, nor sid
ing with any party ; but owning that which was good in all as far as
they could discern it; and upon a concord in so much, laying
themselves out for the great end of their ministry, the people's edi
fication." In this connection he adds a few remarks on another subject,
which well illustrate the true liberality of-his own temper. "The
increase of sectaries among us, was much through the weakness or
the faultiness of ministers. And it made me remember that sects
have most abounded when the gospel hath most prospered, and
God hath been doing the greatest works in the world : as first in
the apostle's and the primitive times ; and then, when christian em
perors were assisting the church; and then, when reformation pros
pered in Germany ; and lately in New-England where godliness
most flourished ; and last of all, here when so pleasant a spring had
raised all our hopes. And our impatience of weak people's errors

* He uses this word here in the party sense comon in those times. He
means of the Scottish party, zealous for the covenant and the exclusive di
vine right of presbytery.

123 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
and dissent did make the business worse ; while every weak minis
ter that could not, or would not do that for his people, which be
longed to his place, was presently crying out against the magis
trates for suffering these errors, and thinking the sword must do
that which the word should do. And it is a wicked thing in men
to desire with the papists, that the people were blind rather than
purblind, and that they might rather know nothing than mistake
in some few points ; and to be more troubled that a man contra
dicted! us in the point of infant baptism or church government, than
that many of the people are sottishly careless of their own salva
tion. He that never regardeth the word of God, is not like to err
much about it. Men will sooner fall out about gold or pearls, than
swine will."*
In 1 654, probably in November, Baxter was called to London to
be associated there with several other ministers, as a committee
of Parliament, to draw up a statement of the fundamentals of reli
gion. The occasion was this. The constitution of the common
wealth provided that all who "professed faith in God by Jesus
Christ though differing in judgment from the doctrine, worship or
discipline publicly held forth, shall not be restrained from, but shall
be protected in the profession of their faith and exercise of their
religion, so as they abuse not this liberty to the injury of others and
the actual disturbance of the public peace." In the first parliament
that was convened under this constitution, the entire " instrumeut
of government" was examined and discussed. On the point of re
ligious liberty, the majority in parliament were evidently less enlight
ened than were the men who framed the constitution. A profes
sion of faith in God by- Jesus Christ, it was said, implied a pro
fession of the fundamentals of Christianity ; and therefore a large
committee was appointed to consider what were the fundamentals
of religion, and were empowered to consult with such divines as
they might choose for themselves. One of the ministers-first invi
ted by the committee to this consultation, was the venerable arch
bishop Usher ; and when he had declined the service, Baxter was

* Narrative, Part I. pp. 96, 97.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 129
Called in his room. Dr. Owen was one of the most respected and
able members of this committee of divines ; and though Owen and
Baxter had previously had some encounters in the way of theologi
cal discussion through the press, there is reason to believe that this
was the first time these two great and- good men ever came togeth
er face to face. Baxter did not arrive till the other ten were al
ready at their work ; but it soon appeared that he had brought with
him views of his own, and was well prepared to make them no lit
tle trouble.
" I would have had the brethren," he says, " to have offered the
parliament the creed, Lord's prayer, and decalogue alone, as our
essentials or fundamentals, which at least contain all that is necessa
ry to salvation, and have been by all the ancient churches taken for
the sum of their religion. And whereas they still said, ' A so-
cinian or papist will subscribe all this,' I answered them, so much
the better, and so much the fitter is it to be the matter of our con
cord. But if you are afraid of communion with papists and socin-
ians, it must not be avoided by making a new rule or test of faith
which they will not subscribe to, or by forcing others to subscribe
to more than they can do, but by calling them to account whenever
in preaching or writing they contradict or abuse the truth to which
they have subscribed. This is the work of government; and we
must not think to make laws serve instead of judgment and exe
cution ; nor must we make new laws as oft as heretics will misin
terpret and subscribe the old ; for when you have put in all the
words you can devise, some heretics will put their own sense upon
them, and subscribe them. And we must not blame God for not
making a law that no man can misinterpret or break; and think to
make such an one ourselves, because God could not or would not.
These presumptions and errors have divided and distracted the
christian churches ; and one would think experience should save us
from them."*
This style of arguing however was insufficient to change the
views with which the committee had begun their work. They re
ported about twenty propositions as embracing in their judgment

* Narrative, Part II. p. 198,
Vol. I. 17

130 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the fundamentals of the christian religion. "But the parliament
was dissolved, and all came to nothing, and that labor was lost."
The truth was, Cromwell was determined to adhere as far as possi
ble to the great principle of religious liberty.
Baxter was called to London on this business by the influence of
Lord Broghill afterwards earl of Orrery, and lord president of
Munster, who was then high in the favor of the protector ; and at
the house of this friend he was entertained while he continued in
the city. " At this time," he says, " the Lord Broghill, and the
earl of Warwick brought me to preach before Cromwell the pro
tector ; which was the only time that ever I preached to hirn, save
once long before, when he was an inferior man among other audi
tors. I knew not which way to provoke him better to duty, than by
preaching on 1 Cor i. 10, against the divisions and distractions of
the church ; and showing how mischievous a thing it was for politi
cians to maintain such divisions for dieir own ends, that they might
fish in troubled waters, and keep the church by its divisions in a
state of weakness lest it should be able to offend them ; and to show
the necessity and means of union. My plainness, I heard, was
displeasing to him and his courtiers ; but they put it up.
" A little while after, Cromwell sent to speak with me, and when
I came, in the presence of only three of his chief men, he began a
long and tedious speech to me of God's providence in the change
of the government, and how God had owned it, and what great
things had been done at home and abroad, in the peace with Spain
and Holland, Sic. When he had wearied us all with speaking
thus slowly about an hour, I told him it was too great condescen
sion to acquaint me so fully with all these matters, which were above
me; but I told him that we took our ancient monarchy to be a
blessing, and not an evil to the land ; and humbly craved his pa
tience that I might ask him how England had ever forfeited that
blessing, and unto whom that forfeiture was made? I was fain to
speak ofthe form of government only, for it had lately been made
treason, by law, to speak for the person of the king.
"Upon that question, he was awakened into some passion, and
then told me it was no forfeiture, but God had changed it as pleased
him ; and then he let fly at the parliament, which thwarted him ;
and especially by name, at four or five of those members who were

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 131
my chief acquaintances, whom I presumed to defend against his
passion ; and thus four or five hours were spent.
"A few days after, he sent for me again, to hear my judgment
about liberty of conscience, which he pretended to be most zealous
for, before almost all his privy council ; where, after another slow
tedious speech of his, I told hiin a little of my judgment. And
when two of his company had spun out a great deal more of the
time in such-like tedious, but more ignorant speeches, some four or
five hours being spent, T told him, that if he would be at the labor
to read it, I could tell him more of my mind in writing in two sheets,
than in that way of speaking in many days ; and that I had a paper on
the subject by me, written for a friend, which, if he would peruse
and allow for the change of person, he would know my sense.
He received the paper afterwards, but I scarcely believe that he ever
read it ; for I saw that what he learned must be from himself; being
more disposed to speak many hours, than to hear one ; and little
heeding what another said, when he had spoken himself."
" In this time of my abode at the Lord Broghill's, fell out all the
acquaintance I had with the most reverend, learned, humble, and
pious primate of Ireland, Archbishop Usher, then living at the earl
of Peterborough's house in Martin's lane. Sometimes he came to
me, and oft I went to him." " In this time I opened to him the mo
tions of concord which I had made with the episcopal divines, and
desired his judgment of my terms which were these : 1 That every
pastor be the governor as well as the teacher of his flock. 2. In
those parishes that have more presbyters than one, that one be the
stated president. 3. That in every market town, or some such meet
divisions, there be frequent assemblies of parochial pastors associa
ted for concord and mutual assistance in their work ; and that in
these meetings one be a stated, not a temporary, president. 4.
That in every county or diocess there be every year, or half year,
or quarter, an assembly of all the ministers of the county or diocess ;
and that;they also have their fixed president; and that in ordina
tion nothing be done without the president, nor in matters of com
mon or public concernment. 5. That the coercive power or sword
be meddled with by none but magistrates. To this sense were my
proposals, which he told me might suffice for peace and unity
among moderate men ; but when he had offered the like to the

132 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
king, intemperate men were displeased with him, and they were re
jected, but afterwards would have been accepted ; and such suc
cess I was like to have."
" I asked him also his judgment about the validity of presbyters'
ordination ; which he asserted, and told me that the king asked him
at the Isle of Wight, wherever he found in antiquity that presbyters
alone ordained any, and that he answered, I can show your majesty
more, even where presbyters alone successively ordained bishops,
and instanced in Jerome's words of the presbyters of Alexandria
choosing and making their own bishops, from the days of Mark till
Heraclus and Dionysius. I also asked him whether the paper be
his which is called " a reduction of episcopacy to the form of Syn-
odical government;" which he owned.
" And of his own accord he told me confidently, ' that synods are
not properly for government, but for agreement among the pastors;
and a synod of bishops are not the governors of any one bishop
there present.' Thoughjno doubt but every pastor out of the syn
od being a ruler of his flock, a synod of such pastors may there ex
ercise acts of government over their flocks, though they be but acts
of agreement or contract for concord one towards another.''*
While he was thus employed in London, he preached occasion
ally to crowded assemblies in several churches of the metropolis,
once at St. Paul's before the mayor and aldermen. One of his
sermons was taken down, in part, as it fell from his lips, and was
thus published ; and after his return to his own parish, he was im
portuned by many letters to publish others. In several instances he
complied with these requests.
A favorite hope of Baxter and one on which he expended du
ring these years, no small portion of his prodigious industry, was
the hope of seeing a reconciliation and visible union among evan
gelical christians of different denominations. The spirit of secta
rianism and division ; the spirit of exclusion which builds up a
middle wall of partition in the church of God ; and which raises
among the multitude of those who should own no master but Christ,
the clamor " I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas," was
a spirit with which the large and catholic mind of Richard Baxter
* Narrative, Part II. pp. 205, 206.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 133
could have no sympathy. He saw that the points on which the
evangelical christians of his day were agreed, were infinitely more
important than the points on which they differed ; and he felt that
while they continued to divide from each other, they would con
tinue to treat with comparative neglect the great truths on which
they built their common hopes, and to attach disproportionate im
portance to their several distinctive principles. He himself be
longed to no party. He thought for himself on every subject of
controversy; and he saw or thought he saw, in regard to many of
the controversies of his day, the peculiar errors and peculiar truths
of each opposing party. It seemed to him that men who were so
near together might be brought to a hearty fellowship, and to a hap
py co-operation for the advancement of a common cause. He has
left on record a long history of his labors in behalf of unity and
catholic communion among christians, including a voluminous cor
respondence with distinguished men of different parties. The par
ticulars of these efforts hardly come within the design of this narra
tive; yet we may gather from that part of what he has written
concerning his own life and times, a few things which could hardly
be omitted here consistently with justice to his character as a chris
tian and as a minister of the gospel.
The principal parties of those days, in the disputes respecting the
constitution and government of the church were the Erastians,
the diocesans, the presbyterians, and the independents.* Baxter be
longed, strictly, to none of them ; though generally he acted with the
presbyterians, and was high in their confidence, in so much that Wood,
the high-church Oxford historian, calls him " the pride of the presby
terian party." His mind was too enlarged and independent, too
sensible of the paramount importance of peace and fellowship
among christians, to be enlisted for better and for worse with any
of the violent parties of a violent age. Moved by the excitement
and debate which he could not but see and hear, he set himself to
the most serious study of the disputed points; " the result of which
was," to use his own words, " this confident and settled judgment,
that of the four contending parties each one had some truths in pe
culiar which the others overlooked, or took little notice of, and
each one had their proper mistakes which gave advantage to their
* Some account of these parties has already been given. See pp. 72, 77.

134 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
adversaries; though all of them had so much truth in common
among them as would have made these kingdoms happy, if it had
been unanimously and soberly reduced to practice, by prudent
and charitable men.
" The Erastians, I thought, were thus far in the right, in assert
ing more fully than others the magistrates' power in matters of re
ligion ; that all coercive power by mulcts or force is only in their
hands ; and that no such power belongeth to the pastors or people
of the church ; and that thus there should not be any coercive
power challenged by pope, prelate, presbytery, or any, but by tbe
magistrate alone ; that the pastoral power is only persuasive, or ex
ercised on volunteers." "Bat though the diocesans, and the pres
byterians of Scotland, who had laws to enable them, opposed this
doctrine, or the party at least, yet I perceived that it was but on
the ground of their civil advantages, as the magistrate had impow
ered them by his laws." " The generality of each party indeed
owned this doctrine ; and I could speak with no sober judicious
prelatist, presbyterian, or independent, but confessed that no se
cular or forcing power belonged to any pastors of the church as
such ; and unless the magistrate authorized thsm as his officers,
they could not touch men's bodies or estates, but the conscience
alone, which can be of none but assenters.
"The Episcopal party seemed to have reason on their side in this,
that in the primitive church there were some apostles, evangelists,
and others, who were general unfixed officers of the church, not
tied to any particular charge, and had some superiority, some of
them, over fixed bishops or pastors. And though the extraordina
ry parts of the apostles' office ceased with them, I sajy no proof of
the cessation of any ordinary part of their office, such as church
government is confessed to be. All the doubt that I saw in this,
was whether the apostles themselves were constituted governors of
other pastors, or only overruled them by the eminency of their gifts
and privilege of infallibility. For it seemed to me unmeet to affirm
without proof; that Christ settled a form of government in his church
to endure only for one age, and changed it for a new one when that
age was ended."
" And as for the Presbyterians, I found that the office ofpreach-
'"<* "resbyters "'"'¦ allowed by all that deservp tti<= -,„..,- - - -

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 135
tians, and that this office did participate, subserviently to Christ, of
the prophetical or teaching, the priestly, or worshipping, and the
governing power; and that scripture, antiquity, and the persuasive
nature of church government, clearly show that all presbyters were
church governors as well as church teachers ; and that to deny this
was to destroy the office and to endeavor to destroy the churches.
And I saw in scripture, antiquity, and reason, that the association
of pastors and churches for agreement, and their synods in cases
of necessity, are a plain duty ; and that their ordinary stated synods
are usually very convenient.
" And I saw that in England the persons which were called Pres
byterians, were eminent for learning, sobriety, and piety, and the
pastors so called, were they that went through the work of the min
istry, in diligent serious preaching to the people, and edifying
men's souls, and keeping up religion in the land.
" And for the Independents, I saw that most of them were zeal
ous, and very many learned, discreet, and godly men, and fit to be
very serviceable in the church. And I found in the search of
scripture and antiquity, that in the beginning, a governed church,
and a stated worshipping church, were all one, and not two several
things ; and that though there might be other by-meetings in pla
ces like our chapels or private houses, for such as age or persecu
tion hindered to come to the more solemn meetings, yet churches
then were no bigger in number of persons than our parishes now,
to grant the most ; and that they were societies of christians united
for personal communion, and not only for communion by meetings
of officers and delegates in synods. And I saw if once we go
beyond tbe bounds of " personal communion," as the end of par
ticular churches, in the definition, we may make a church of a na
tion, or of ten nations, or what we please, which shall have none
of the nature and ends of the primitive particular churches. Also
I saw a commendable care of serious holiness and discipline
in most of the independent churches. And I found that some
Episcopal men (as Bishop Usher did voluntarily profess his judg
ment to me) did hold that every bishop was independent as to sy
nods, and that synods were not proper governors of the particular
bishops, but only for their concord.

136 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" And for the Anabaptists themselves (though I have written and
said so much against them) as I found that most of them were per
sons of zeal in religion, so many of them were sober, godly people,
and differed from others but in the point of infant baptism, or at
most in the points of predestination and free will and perseverance,
as the Lutherans from the Calvinists, and the Arminians from the
Contra-remonstrants. And I found in all antiquity that though in
fant baptism was held lawful by the church, yet some, with Ter-
tullian and Nazienzen, thought it most convenient to make no haste,
and the rest left the time of baptism to every one's liberty." " So
that in the primitive church, some were baptized in infancy, and
some a little before their death, and none were forced, but all left
free." " As to doctrinal differences also I soon perceived that it was
hard to find a man that discerned the true state of the several con
troversies; and that when unrevealed points, uncertain to all, were
laid aside, and the controversies about words were justly separated
from the controversies about things, the differences about things,
which remained, were fewer and smaller than most of the contend
ers perceived or would believe." "What I began to write about
any of these doctrinal differences, I will now pass by ; because it
is not such differences that I am now to speak of.
" I perceived, then, that every party before mentioned having
some truth or good in which it was more eminent than the rest,
it was no impossible thing to separate all that from the error and
the evil ; and that among all the truths which they held either in
common or in controversy there was no contradiction ; and there
fore he that would promote the welfare of the church must do his
best to promote all the truth and good which was held by every
part, and to leave out all their errors and their evil, and not to take
up all that any party had espoused as their own.
" The things which I disliked as erroneous or evil in each party
were these :
" In the Erastians, 1 . That they made too light of the power of
the ministry and church, and of excommunication." " 2. That
they make the articles of ' the holy catholic church' and ' the com
munion of saints' too insignificant by making church communion

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 137
more common to the impenitent than Christ would have it, and so
dishonored Christ by dishonoring his church." " 3. That they mis
understood and injured their brethren, supposing and affirming them
to claim as from God a coercive power over the bodies and purses
of men, and so setting up imperium in imperio ; whereas all
temperate christians confess that the church hath no power of force,
but only to manage God's word unto men's consciences,
" In the Diocesan party 1 utterly disliked
" 1. Their extirpation ofthe true discipline of Christ, as we con
ceive, by consequence, though not intentionally ; not only as they
omitted it, but as their principles and church state had made it
impracticable and impossible."
"2. That hereby they altered the species of churches, and either
would deface all particular churches, and have none but associated
diocesan churches, who hold communion by delegates and not per
sonally, or else they would turn all the particular parochial church
es into christian oratories and schools, while they gave their pastors
but a teaching and worshipping power, and not a governing.
" 3. That hereby they altered the ancient species of presbyters,
to whose office the spiritual government of their proper flocks as
truly belonged, as the power of preaching and worshipping God.
"4. That they extinguished the ancient species of bishops,
which was in the times of Ignatius, when every church had one al
tar and one bishop."
He adds many other particulars, such as their setting up secular
courts, their vexing honest christians that could not worship by
their ceremonies, their permitting ignorant drunken readers to oc
cupy the place of pastors in abundance of churches, their excessive
zeal for formalities and ceremonies, and the general tendency of
their spirit and measures to the suppression of godliness and the in
crease of ignorance and profaneness.
" In the presbyterian way I disliked
" 1. Their order of lay elders who had no ordination, nor power
to preach, nor lo administer sacraments. For though I grant that
lay elders or the chief of the people, were oft employed to express
the people's consent and preserve their liberties, yet these were no
church officers at all, nor had any charge of private oversight of
Vol. I. 18

138 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the flocks. And though I grant that one church had oft more eld
ers than did use to preach, and that many were most employed in
private oversight, yet that was but a prudent dividing of their work
according to the gifts and parts of each, and not that any elders
wanted power of office to preach or administer sacraments when
there was cause.
" 2. And I disliked, also, the course of some of the more rigid
of them, who drew too near the way of prelacy, by grasping at a
kind of secular power ; not using it themselves, but binding the ma
gistrates to confiscate or imprison men, merely because they were
excommunicated; and so corrupting the true discipline of the
church, and turning the communion of saints into the communion
of the multitude, who must keep in the church against their wills
for fear of being undone in the world. Whereas, a man whose
conscience cannot feel a just excommunication unless it be backed
with confiscation or imprisonment, is no fitter to be a member of a
christian church, than a corps is to be a member of a corporation.
It is true they claim not this power as jure divino; but no more do
the prelates, though the writ de excommunicato capiendo is the life
of all their censures. But both parties too much debase the magis
trate, by making him their mere executioner ; whereas he is the
judge wherever he is the executioner, and is to try each cause
at his own bar, before he be obliged to punish any. They also cor
rupt the discipline of Christ, by mixing it with secular force. They
reproach the keys or ministerial power, as if it were a leaden
sword, and not worth a straw, unless the magistrate's sword en
force it. What, then, did the primitive church for three hundred
years? And worst of all, they corrupt the church, by forcing in
the rabble of the unfit and the unwilling ; and thereby tempt many
godly christians to schisms and dangerous separations. Till magis
trates keep the sword themselves, and learn to deny it to every
angry clergyman who would do his own work by it, and leave them
to their own weapons — the word and spiritual keys — and valeant
quantum valere possunt, the church will never have unity and
peace. " 3. And I disliked some of the Presbyterians, that they were
not tender enough to dissenting brethren ; but too much against

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 139
liberty, as others were too much for it ; and thought by votes and
numbers to do that which love and reason should have done."
A fourth objection in Baxter's mind against the presbyterians,
was that " in their practice they would have so settled it that a wor
shipping church and a governed church should nowhere be the
same thing, but ten or twelve worshipping churches should have
made one governed church which prepared the way to the diocesan
frame." His objections to the system of the Independents, were, in his
own words,
" 1. They made too light of ordination.
" 2. They also had their office of lay-eldership.
" 3. They were commonly stricter about the qualification of
church members, than scripture, reason, or the practice of the
universal church would allow."
" 4. I disliked also the lamentable tendency of this their way to
divisions and subdivisions and the nourishing of heresies and sects.
" 5. But above all I disliked that most of them made the people
by majority of votes to be church governors, in excommunications,
absolutions, etc. which Christ hath made to be an act of office ; and
so they governed their governors and themselves.
"6. Also they too much exploded synods, refusing them as sta
ted, and admitting them but on some extraordinary occasions.
" 7. Also they were over-rigid against the admission of christians
of other churches to their communion.
" 8. And I disliked their making a minister to be as no minister
to any but his own flock, and to act to others but as a private man ;
with divers other such irregularities, and dividing opinions ; many of
which, the moderation of Lthe New-England synod hath of late
corrected and disowned, and so done very much to heal these
breaches. "And for the Anabaptists, I knew that they injudiciously exclu
ded the infants of the faithful from solemn entrance into the cove
nant and church of God, and as sinfully made their opinion a around
of their separation from the churches and communion of their
brethren ; and that among them grew up the weeds of many er
rors ; and divisions, subdivisions, reproach of ministers, faction

140 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
andjpride, and scandalous practices were fomented in their way."
With these views of the principles and characters of the several
evangelical denominations of his day, he thought himself called to
some special efforts for the promotion of peace and catholic com
munion. He made it a great object to bring all these parties
of christians to see distinctly that the points on which they all
agreed were not only more numerous and more important than the
points on which they diff. red, but were also such as to afford am
ple ground for mutual fellowship and cooperation.
He soon found, however, thatbesides the diversity of men's opin
ions and principles, there were other and more serious obstacles in
the way of his success. One hindrance he found "in men's com
pany, and another in their seeming interests, and the chiefest of all
in the disposition and quality of their minds."
Respecting these three great hindrances, he says, " Some that
were most conversant with sober, peaceable, experienced men, and
were under the care of peaceable ministers, I found very much in
clined to charity and peace. But multitudes of them conversed
most with ignorant, proud, unexperienced, passionate, uncharitable
persons, who made it a part of their zeal and ingenuity to break a
jest in reproach and scorn of them that differed from them ; and
who were ordinarily backbiters, and bold unrighteous censurers of
others, before they well understood them, or ever heard them give
a reason of their judgments. And the hearing and conversing with
such persons as these, doth powerfully dispose men to the same
disease, and to sin impenitently after their example. Especially,
when men are incorporated into a sect or uncharitable party, and
have captivated themselves to a human servitude in religion, and
given up themselves to the will of men, the stream will bear down
the plainest evidence, and carry them to the foulest errors.
" And as it is carnal interest that ruleth the carnal world, so I
found that among selfish men, there were as many interests and
ends, as persons ; and every one had an interest of his own which
governed him, and set him at a very great enmity to the most ne
cessary means of peace. I found also that every man that had
once given up himself to a party, and drowned himself in a faction,
did make the interests of that faction or party to be his own. And

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 141
the interest of Christianity, Catholicism and charily, is contrary to
the interests of sects as such. And it is the nature of a sectary
that he preferreth the interest of his opinion, sect, or party, before
the interest of Christianity, Catholicism, and charity, and will sacri-
the latter to the service of the former.
" But the grand impediment I found in the temper of men's
minds ; and there I perceived a manifold difference. Among all
these parties I found that some were naturally of mild and calm and
gentle dispositions, and some of sour, froward, passionate, peevish,
or furious natures. Some were young and raw and unexperienced
and like young fruit, sour and harsh ; addicted to pride of their
own opinions, to self-conceitedness, turbulency, censoriousness, and
temerity, and to engage themselves to a party before they under
stood the matter ; and were led about by those teachers and books
that had once won their highest esteem, judging of sermons and
persons by their fervency more than by the soundness of the mat
ter and the cause. And some I found on the other side, to be an
cient and experienced christians that had tried the spirits, and seen
what was of God and what of mari, and noted the events of both in
the world ; and these were like ripe fruit, mellow and sweet, first
pure, then peaceable, gentle, easyto be entreated, full of mercy and
good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy, who being
makers of peace, did sow the fruits of righteousness in peace. I
began by experience to understand the meaning of those words of
Paul, 1 Tim. iii. 6, 'Not a novice lest being lifted up with pride,
he fall into the condemnation of the devil.' Novices, that is, young,
raw, unexperienced christians, are much apter to be proud, and
censorious and factious, than old, experienced, judicious christians.
" But the difference between the godly and the ungodly, the
spiritual and carnal worshippers of God, was the most considerable
of all. An humble, holy, upright soul is sensible of the interest of
Christ and souls ; and a gracious person is ever a charitable per
son, and loveth his neighbor as himself; and therefore judgeth of
him as he would be judged of himself, and speaketh of him as he
would he spoken of himself, and useth him as he would be used
himself; and it is against his charitable inclination to disagree or
separate from his brethren." " And it is easy to bring such per-

142 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
sons to agreement, at least to live in charitable communion. But
on the other side, the carnal, selfish, and unsanctified, of what par
ty or opinion soever, have a nature that is quite against holy con
cord and peace. They want that love which is the natural balsom
for the churches' wounds. They are every one selfish, and ruled
by self-interest, and have as many ends and centers of their desires
and actions as they are individual men." " These and many more
impediments do rise up against all conciliatory endeavors."
To follow the peace-maker through all the details of his efforts in
behalf of union, would carry us beyond the prescribed limits of this
narrative. Sectarians were too numerous then among christians of
every name, to permit the consummation of such hopes as Baxter
seems to have cherished. Selfish men, men of ecclesiastical am
bition, men of defective piety, and men of narrow minds, have al
ways had, and for some time to come will doubtless continue to have,
in the visible church, influence enough to keep up, in spite of the
prayers and endeavors of peace-makers, the spirit of jealousy and
party strife, among those who, notwithstanding all their divisions have
still one Lord, one faith, and substantially one baptism.
But though he failed to accomplish all the good which he
desired, his efforts in behalf of this great object were not lost ; for
indeed the God of peace will never permit any sincere endeavor
in such a cause, to be utterly in vain. The Worcestershire Asso
ciation of pastors, of which mention has already been made,* and
the many similar associations which were formed cotemporaneous-
ly in other parts of England, owed their origin in a great measure to
the pacificatory labors of Baxter. By these associations for mutual
counsel and free fraternal discussion, the attention of hundreds of
pastors was turned from strivings and questions of little profit, to the
great business of their ministry, the conversion and sanctification of
their hearers. Thus too the progress of division was in some de
gree hindered. The voice of God's truth that had been as it were
half-drowned in the clamor of ecclesiastical as well as civil factions,
began to be heard in a louder and clearer tone ; and the churches,

•See pp. 126, 127.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 143
enjoying a brief season of something like rest, "were edified, and
walking in the fear of God and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost
were multiplied." Such was at that time the success of that good
man's labors to bring about a union among christians on the ground
of mutual toleration and freedom of opinion. But who can say that
the immediate result was all ? Who can say how many in succeed
ing ages, having read the record of what he did, have been moved
in their several spheres to do likewise ? And if by this brief exhibi
tion of his spirit and example, any in these days, should be awaken
ed to the more lively exercise of a kindred spirit, and encouraged
in similar efforts, it will afford an additional illustration of the truth
that under the providence of the God of peace no such endeavor
will utterly fail of its success here, any more than it can fail of its
reward hereafter.
But while Baxter was so intent on peace, he was not willing to
sit still and see either error, or sectarian and dividing principles,
propagated in his own parish to the perversion of his people.
When contention was inevitable he showed himself ready to contend
effectually. Respecting a controversy which he had with a zeal
ous and able Baptist brother, he gives the following statement.
" Mr. Tombes, who was my neighbor, within two miles, denying
infant baptism, and having wrote a book or two against it, was not a
little desirous of the propagation of his opinion, and the success of
his writings. He thought that I was the chief hinderer, though I
never meddled with the point. Whereupon he came constantly
to my weekly lectures, waiting for an opportunity to fall upon that
controversy in his conference with me ; but I studiously avoided it,
so that he knew not how to begin. He had so high a conceit of his
writings, that he thought them unanswerable, and that none could
deal with him in that way. At last, somehow he urged me to give
my judgment of them ; when I let him know that they did not sa
tisfy me to be of his mind, but went no further with him. Upon
this he forebore coming any more to our lecture ; but he unavoida
bly contrived to bring me into the controversy which I shunned.
For there came unto me five or six of his chief proselytes, as if they
were yet unresolved, and desired me to give them in writing the
arguments which satisfied me for infant baptism. I asked them

144 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
whether. they came not by Mr. Tombes' directions; and they con* .
fessed that they did. I asked them whether they had read the"
books of Mr. Cobbet, Mr. Marshall, Mr. Church, Mr. Blake, for
infant Baptism ; and they told me, no. I desired them to read
that which is written already, before they called for more, and
tell me what they had to say against them. But this they would byv
no means do, they must have my writings. I told them, that now
they plainly confessed that they came upon a design to promote
their party by contentious writings, and not in sincere desire to be
informed, as they pretended. To be short they had no more mo
desty than to insist on their demands, and to tell me, that if they
turned against infant baptism, and I denied to give them my argu
ments in writing, they must lay it upon me. I asked them, wheth
er they would continue unresolved till Mr. Tombes and I had done
our writings, seeing it was some years since Mr. Blake and he be
gan, and had not ended yet. But no reasoning served the turn with
them, they still called for my written arguments."
The negotiation was concluded by a proposal on the part of
Baxter to hold a public discussion in Mr. Tombes' church at Bewd-
ley, to which those ofthe other party readily assented.
" So Mr. Tombes and I agreed to meet at his- church on the
first day of January, 1649. And in great weakness thither I came,
and from nine o'clock in the morning till five at night, in a crowd-
ded congregation, we continued our dispute ; which was all spent
in managing one argument,- from infant's right to church-member
ship to their right to baptism ; of which he often complained, as if
I assaulted him in a new way, which he had not considered of be
fore. But this was not the first time that I had dealt with Anabap
tists, few having so much to do with them in the army as I had. In
a word, this dispute satisfied all my own people, and the country
that came in, and Mr. Tombes' own townsmen, except about twen
ty whom he had perverted, who gathered into his church ; which
never increased to above twenty-two, that I could learn."*
This however Was not the end of the discussion. It was pro-

*Narrative, Part I. pp 96.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 145
longed by the press. Volume after volume came forth ; and still
neither ofthe combatants was driven from the field. These dispu
tants have both gone where they are at peace with each other, and
where no principles of close communion bar their mutual fellow
ship; but the dispute is still unfinished.
' We have seen the diligence of Baxter as a pastor ; and the la
bor and solicitude which he bestowed upon the general interests of
the church. As yet however, only part of his great industry while
at Kidderminster has been distinctly noticed. All this labor, all
that he did as a minister, except his private conference with/ami
nes, was only his recreation and die work of his spare hours. " My
writings," he says, in a passage already quoted from his narrative,*
" were my chiefest daily labor ; which yet went the more slowly
on, that I never one hour had an amanuensis to dictate to."
The following enumeration of the works published by him, during
the period of about thirteen years now under review, will afford evi
dence that the preceding statement is not a mere rhetorical flourish.
The enumeration is limited to those works which were published
during his residence at Kidderminster.
1. " Aphorisms of Justification with their Explications. Where
in also is opened the nature of the Covenants, Satisfaction, Right
eousness, Faith, Works, etc." 12mo. published in 1649.
2. "The Saint's Everlasting Rest; or a Treatise ofthe blessed
state of the Saints in their enjoyment of God." 4to. published in
1650. This and the preceding were mostly- written before his re
turn to Kidderminster, though the date of their publication comes
within the period we are now reviewing. The occasions on which
they were written have already been described. f
3. " Plain Scripture Proof of Infant's Church Membership and
Baptism ; being the arguments prepared for, and partly managed
in, the public dispute with Mr. Tombes at Bewdley, on the first
day of January 1 649.- With a full reply to what he then answered,
and what is contained in his sermon since preached, in his printed
books, his MS. on 1 Cor vii. 14 : with a reply to his valedictory ora-

*Sec p. 108. \ See pp. 92, 9:1.
Vol. 1. 19

146 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
tion at Bewdley, and a Correction for his Antidote." 4to. pub
lished in 1650. The occasion of this book may be thus stated*
Baxter in the dedication prefixed to the first edition of the Saint's
Rest alluded to the public dispute at Bewdley, speaking as if he
had gained the victory in that conflict. Whereupon Tombes who
was one of the most voluminous writers of his party, published
what he styled ' An Antidote against the Venom' contained in
those allusions. Baxter's idea seems to have been that every
thing in tbe form of argument, must be either answered, or ac
knowledged as unanswerable ; and accordingly he came out,
promptly, with the quarto to which was prefixed that long title just
recited. " This book," says the author, long afterwards, " God
blessed widi unexpected success to stop abundance from turning
Anabaptists ; and it gave a considerable check to their proceed
ings."* In proof of the interest taken by the public in the contro
versy, it has been stated that this work in the course of a few years
passed through several editions.
4. " Right Method for a Settled Peace of Conscience and Spir
itual Comfort; in thirty-two directions." 12mo. published in
1653. "The occasion of it," he says, "was this. Mrs. Bridges,
the wife of Col. John Bridges, being one of my flock, was often
weeping out her doubts to me about her long and great uncertain
ty of her true sanctification and salvation. I told her that a few has
ty words were not direction enough for the satisfactory resolving
of so great a case ; and therefore I would write her down a few of
those necessary directions which she should read and study, and
get well imprinted on her mind. As soon as I begun, I found that
it would not be well done in the brevity which I expected ; and
that when it was done, it would be as useful to many others of my
flock as to her ; and therefore I bestowed more time on it and made
it larger and fit for common use.
" This book pleased Dr. Hammond much, and many rational
persons, and some of those for whom it was written; but the
women and weaker sort, I found, could not so well improve clear
* Narrative, Part I. p. 109.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 147
reason as they can a few comfortable, warm, and pretty sentences.
It is style, and not reason, which doth most with them. Some
of the divines were angry with it, for a passage or two about per
severance ; because I had said that many men are certain of their
present sanctification, who are not certain of their perseverance and
salvation, meaning all the godly that are assured of their sanctifica
tion, and yet do not hold the certainty of perseverance. But a
great storm of jealousy and censure was, by this, and some such
words, raised against me by many good men, who lay more on their
opinions and party than they ought ; therefore, as some would
have had me to retract it, and others to leave out of the next im
pression, I did the latter."*
This " storm of jealousy and censure" led him to publish, not
long after, the work next to be noticed.
5. " Richard Baxter's Account of his Present Thoughts con
cerning the Controversies about the Perseverance of the Saints."
A pamphlet in 4to. published in 1653. In this book, he says, " I
showed the variety of opinions about perseverance, and that Au
gustine and Prosper themselves did not hold the certain perseve
rance of all that are truly sanctified, though they held the perse
verance of all the elect ; but held that there are more sanctified
than are elect, and that perseverance is affixed to the elect as such,
and not the sanctified as such." " From hence and many other
arguments, I inferred that the sharp censures of men against their
brethren for not holding a point which Augustine himself was
against, and no one author can be proved to hold from the apostles'
days till long after Austin, doth assure less charity than many of
the censurers seem to have."
The following passage has been cited from this work as a plain
expression of his personal opinion respecting the doctrine in
question. "Therefore, notwithstanding all the objections that are
against it, and the ill use that will be made of it by many, and the
accidental troubles into which it may cast some believers, it seems
to me that the doctrine of perseverance is grounded on the scrip-
* Narrative, Part II. pp. 109, 110;

148 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
tures and therefore is to be maintained, not only as extending to all
the elect, against the Lutherans and Arminians, but also as extend
ing to all the truly sanctified, against Augustine, and the Janse-
nians, and other Dominicans : though we must rank it but among
truths of its own order, and not lay the church's peace or com
munion upon it."*
The explanations of his orthodoxy seem to have been satisfac
tory ; for he adds, "I never heard of any censure against these pa
pers, though the few lines which occasioned them bad so much."f
6. " Christian Concord ; or the Agreement of the Associated
Pastors and Churches of Worcestershire : with Richard Baxter's
Explication and Defense of it, and his Exhortation to Unity."
4to, published in 1653. Of this work he says, " When we set on
foot our association in Worcestershire, I was desired to print our
agreement, with an explication of the several articles, which I did
in a small book, in which I have given reasons why the Episcopal,
Presbyterians, and Independents, might and should unite, on such
terms, without any change of any of their principles; but I confess
that the new Episcopal party, that follow Grotius too far, and deny
the very being of all the ministers and churches that have not dio
cesan bishops, are not capable of union with the rest upon such
terms. And hereby I gave notice to the gentry and others of the
royalists in England, oi the great danger they were in of changing
their ecclesiastical cause, by following new leaders that were for
Grotianism. But this admonition did greatly offend the guilty,
who now began to get the reins, though the old Episcopal Protes
tants confessed it all to be true."
7. " The Worcestershire Petition to Parliament, in behalf of
the able, faithful, and godly ministry of this nation,'' was drawn up
by Baxter at a time when the Anabaptists, Seekers, and others were
clamorous against the clergy ; and it was feared that the Rump Par
liament was about to abolish the maintenance of the gospel ministry.
This petition was presented by Col. Bridges and Mr. Thomas Fo
ley, in the name of " many thousands, gendeman, freeholders, and
* This quotation is taken from Orme's Life of Baxter. Baxter's work
on Perseverance is not before me.
t Narrative, Part II. p. 110.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 149
others of the county of Worcestershire," on the 22d of December
1652, and "was accepted with thanks." Soon afterwards, in
1 653, it was published with the answer of the speaker in the name
of Parliament, thanking the petitioners for their zeal. " But sec
taries greafly raged against that petition ; and one wrote a vehe
ment invective against it," which Baxter hastened to answer in the
work next to be noticed.
8. " The Worcestershire Petition to Parliament for the Ministry
of England, Defended by a Minister of Christ in that County
in answer to sixteen queries, printed in a book called, A Brief
Discovery of the Threefold Estate of Antichrist," etc. 4to. pub
lished in 1653. Of this book he says, " I knew not what kind of
person he was that I wrote against, but it proved to be a Quaker,
they being just now rising, and this being the first of their books,
as far as I can remember, that I had ever seen." This Quaker,
we are informed by Orme, was none other than George Fox, the
father of that sect.
9. "True Christianity; or Christ's Absolute Dominion, and
Man's Recovery, Self-resignation, and Subjection, in two Assize
Sermons." 4to. published in 1654. " The first was preached be
fore Judge Atkins, Sir Thomas Rous being high sheriff; the second
before Sergeant Glyn, who desiring me to print it, I thought meet
to print the former with it." In the preface to one of these ser
mons, he says to the " christian reader," " I have endeavored to
show you in both these sermons, that Christ may be preached with
out antinomianism; that terror may be preached without unwar
rantably preaching the law ; that the gospel is not a mere promise,
and that the law is not so terrible as it is to the rebellious ;¦ as also
what that superstructure is, which is built on the foundation of gen
eral redemption rightly understood ; and how ill we can preach
Christ's dominion in his universal propriety and sovereignty, with
out this foundation." Speaking of the style and structure of the
work he has this characteristic saying. " It is for the vulgar prin
cipally, that I publish it ; and I had rather it might be numbered
with those books which are carried up and down the country from
door to door in pedlar's packs, than with those that lie on booksel
lers' stalls, or are set up in the libraries of learned divines."

150

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

10. "Richard Baxter's Apology," etc. 4to. published in 1654.
This work was designed as a reply to the strictures which had been
published by different authors, on his Aphorisms of Justification.
It was dedicated to his old military friend, " the Honorable Com
missary General Whalley." The conclusion of this dedication de
serves to be cited, on account of its beauty both of sentiment and
expression ; and those who are familiar with the subsequent history
of the man to whom this language was addressed, will read it with
a superadded interest.
" Your great warfare is not yet accomplished : the worms of cor
ruption that breed in us will live, in some measure, till we die our
selves. Your conquest of yourself is yet imperfect. To fight with
yourself, you will find the hardest but most necessary conflict that
ever yet you were engaged in ; and to overcome yourself, the
most honorable and gainful victory. Think not that your greatest
trials are all over. Prosperity hath its peculiar temptations, by
which it hath foiled many that stood unshaken in the storms of ad
versity. The tempter, who hath had you on the waves, will now
assault you in the calm, and hath his last game to play on the moun
tain, till nature cause you to descend. Stand this charge, and you
win the day."*
11. "Richard Baxter's Confession of Faith, especially con
cerning the Interest of Repentance and Sincere Obedience to
Christ in our Justification and Salvation." 4to. published in 1655.
This was designed as a farther explanation and defense of his Apho
risms. " In my Confession," he says, " I opened the whole
doctrine of antinomianism which I opposed." " And I opened the
weakness of Dr. Owen's reasonings for justification before faith in
his former answer to me."
12. " Richard Baxter's Advice to the Members of Parliament,
in a Sermon preached iu Westminster Abbey," published in 1655.
" This was," he says, "one scrap of a sermon preached to many
members of Parliament, which was taken by some one and print-

Orme. The Apology of Baxter has not been before mc.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 151
ed ; and is nothing but the naming of a few directions which I then
gave the parliament men for church reformation and peace."*
13. " Making light of Christ and Salvation, too oft the Issue of
Gospel Invitations : a sermon, preached at Laurence Jury in Lon
don." 4to. published iu 1655.
14. " A Sermon of Judgment ; preached at Paul's before the
Honorable Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the city of London, Dec.
17, 1654, and now enlarged." 4to. published 1655. This, in
the octavo edition of his practical works, is a treatise of nearly a
hundred pages.
15. "The Quakers's Catechism; or the Quakers questioned,
their questions answered, and both published for the sake of those
of them that have not yet sinned unto death, and of those unground-
ded novices that are most in danger of their seduction." A pam
phlet in 4to. published in 1555. The occasion of this little work,
he describes in the following words.
" The Quakers began to make a great stir among us, acting the
part of men in raptures, speaking in the manner of men inspired,
and every where railing against tithes and ministers. They sent
many papers of queries to divers ministers about us ; to one of the
chief of which I wrote an answer, and gave them as many more
questions, to answer, entitling it ' The Quaker's Catechism.'
These pamphlets being but one or two days' work, were no great
interruption to my better labors, and as they were of small worth,
so also of small cost. The same ministers of our country, that are
now silenced, are they that the Quakers most vehemently opposed,
meddling little with the rest. The marvellous concurrence of in
struments telleth us, that one principal agent doth act them all. I
have oft asked the Quakers lately, Why they choose the same
ministers to revile whom all the drunkards and swearers rail against ?
And why they cried out in our assemblies, Come down, thou de
ceiver thou hireling, thou dog ; and now never meddle with the
pastors or congregations ? They answer, that these men sin in
the open light, and need none to discover them; and that the Spirit
'¦"Narrative, Part I. p. 111.

152 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
hath his times of severity and of lenity. But the truth is, they
knew then they might be bold without any fear of suffering by it :
and now it is time for them to save their skins, they suffer enough
for their own assemblies."*
It is hardly necessary to add that the Quakers of that day were
exceedingly unlike the sober, peaceable and exemplary moralists
who now bear that name. All accounts unite in testifying that the
conduct of the fanatics against whom Baxter wrote this pamphlet,
was such as outraged all decency, no less distinctly than their
principles contradicted both scripture and common sense.
16. "The Unreasonableness of Infidelity, manifested in four
Discourses." Svo. published in 1655. This is a work of about
450 pages. The author from the time of his connection with the
army, had watched with much interest the tendency of certain fa
natical sects towards sheer infidelity. The papists who were every
where at work in those stormy times, were at much pains secretly,
to promote these tendencies, hoping that men would by and by be
persuaded that infidelity was the necessary result of every scheme
which denied the infallibility of their church. A certain class of
republican politicians, whom Cromwell called the 'heathen,' were
diffusing a sort of philosophic unbelief in the sphere of their influ
ence. Hobbes and Lord Herbert, the fathers of English Deism,
were directly assailing Christianity by their writings. Baxter was
the first who encountered these tendencies by argument. His are
said to be the earliest original works in the English language on the
evidences of Christianity.
The following account of his views and motives in undertaking
this work, is from the preface.
" Having the unhappy opportunity, many years ago of discoursing
with some of those, [fanatic infidels,] and perceiving them to increase,
I preached the sermons on Gal. iii., which are here first printed. Long
after this, having again and again too frequent occasion to confer with
some of them, the nearness and the hideousness of this deplorable
evil did very much force my thoughts that way, especially when I
* Narrative, Part I. p, 216.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 153
found that I fell into whole companies of them, besetting me at
once, and who with great scorn and cunning subtlety endeavored to
bring my special friends to a contempt of the scripture and the life
to come ; and also when I considered how many of them were once
my intimate friends, whom I cannot yet choose but love with com
passion, when I remember our former converse and familiarity :
and some of them were ancient professors, who have done and
suffered much in a better cause; and Whose uprightness we were
all as confident of as most men's living on earth. All this did make
the case more grievous to me ; yet I must needs say that the most that
I have known to fall thus far, were such as were formerly so proud, or
sensual, or giddy professors, that they seemed then but to stay for a
shaking temptation to lay them in the dirt ; and those of better qualifi
cations, of whose sincerity we are so confident, were very few. It
yet troubled me more that those of them, whose welfare I most hear
tily desired, would never be drawn to open their minds to me, so
that I was out of all capacity of doing them any good, though some
time to others they would speak more freely. And when I have
stirred sometime further abroad, I have perceived that some per
sons of considerable quality and learning, having much conversed
with men of that way, and read such books as ^Hobbes' Leviathan,'
have been sadly infected with this mortal pestilence ; and the horrid
language that some of them utter cannot but grieve any one that
heareth of it, who hath the least sense of God's honor, or the worth
of souls. Sometimes they make a jest at Christ ; sometimes at
scripture ; sometimes at the soul of man ; sometimes at spirits ;
challenging the devil to come and appear to them, and professing
how far they would travel to see him, as not believing that indeed
he is ; sometimes scorning at the talk of hell, and presuming to se
duce poor, carnal people that are too ready to believe such things,
telling them that it were injustice in God to punish a short sin with
an everlasting punishment ; and that God is good, and therefore
there cannot be any devils or hell, because evil cannot come from
good : sometimes they say that it is not they, but sin that dwelleth
in them ; and therefore sin shall be damned and not they : and
most of them give up themselves to sensuality, which is no wonder ;
for he that thinks there is no greater happiness hereafter to be ex-
Vol. I. 20

154 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
pected, is like enough to take his fill of sensual pleasure while he
may have it ; and, as I have said once before, he that thinks he
shall die like a dog, is like enough to live like a dog.
"Being awakened by these sad experiences and considerations
to a deeper compassion of these miserable men, but especially to a
deeper sense of the danger of weak unsettled professors, whom they
labor to seduce, another providence also instigating thereto, I put
those sermons on Gal. iii. to the press."*
17. "The Agreement of the Worcestershire Ministers for cate
chising." 12mo. published in 1656.
18. " Gildas Salvianus: The Reformed Pastor; shewing the
nature of the pastoral work, especially in private instruction and
catechising, with an open confession of our too open sins," etc. 8vo.
published in 1656.
Ofthe occasion and design of these two works he speaks thus.
" About that time, being apprehensive how great a part of our work
lay in catechising the aged who were ignorant, as well as children,
and especially in serious conference with them about the matters
of their salvation, I thought it best to draw in all the ministers of
the county with me that the benefit might extend the further, and
that each one might have the less opposition. Which having pro
cured, at their desire I wrote a catechism, and the articles of our
agreement, and before them an earnest exhortation to our ignorant
people to submit to this way : and this was then published. The
catechism was also a brief confession of faith, being the enlarge
ment of a confession which I had before printed in an open sheet,
when we set up church discipline.
" When we set upon this great work, it was thought best to be
gin with a day of fasting and prayer by all the ministers, at Worces
ter, where they desired me to preach. But weakness and other
things hindered me from that day; and to compensate that I en
larged and published the sermon which I had prepared for them •
and entitled the treatise Gildas Salvianus (because I imitated
Gildas and Salvianus in my liberty of speech to the pastors of
the churches) or the Reformed Pastor."

* Bexter's Practical Works ; London. 1830. Voi. xx. pp. 22, 23.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 155
The Reformed Pastor is one of those works of Baxter which
has been most extensively circulated and most profitably read. It
is in the hands ol thousands of ministers at this day; and it were
well if the diligent and devotional study of that book, were made a
part of the course of preparation for the ministry in every theolo
gical seminary. " I have very great cause," says the author less than
ten years after its first publication, " to be thankful to God for the
success of that book, as hoping many thousand souls are the better
for it, in that it prevailed with many ministers to set upon that work
which I there exhort them to ; even from beyond the seas, I have
had letters of request, to direct them how they might bring on that
work according as that book bad convinced them that it was their
duty. If God would but reform the ministry, and set them on their
duty zealously and faithfully, the people would certainly be reform
ed : all churches either rise or fall, as the ministry doth rise or fall,
not in riches orwordly grandeur, but in knowledge, zeal, and ability
for flie work. But since bishops were restored, this book, is use
less, and that work not meddled with."*
19. " Certain Disputations of Rights to Sacraments, and the
True Nature of Visible Christianity." Published in 1656. Of
this work it is unnecessary to say more than that it is a controver
sial examination of the question, What is the proper condition of
church communion? and that the doctrine which it maintains is that
the only condition of membership which any church has a right to
require, and the great condition which no church has a right to dis
pense with, is simply " a creidble profession of true faith and re
pentance." 20. " The Safe Religion, or Three Disputations for the Reformed
Catholic Religion against Popery." Svo. published in 1657. Of
this work he says, " The great advancement of the Papist interest
by their secret agency among the Sectaries, Seekers, Quakers,
Behmenists, etc., did make me think it necessary to do something
directly against popery. So I published three dissertations against
them, one to prove our religion safe, and another to prove their re
ligion unsafe, and a third to show that they overthrew the faith by
the ill resolution of their faith."
?Narrative, Part I. p. 115.

156 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
21. "A Treatise of Conversion; preached and now publislr-
ed for the use of those that are strangers to a true conversion, es
pecially the grossly ignorant and ungodly," 4to. published in 1657.
It was as he says, " some plain sermons on that subject which Mr.
Baldwin, an honest young minister that had lived in my house and
learned my short hand in which I wrote my sermon notes, had
transcribed out of my notes. And though I had no leisure, for this
or other writings, to add any ornaments, or citations of authors, I
thought it might better pass as it was, than not at all ; and that if
the author missed of the applause of the learned, yet the book
might be profitable to the ignorant, as it proved, through the great
mercy of God."
This work, it may be supposed, is a fair specimen of the.author's
ordinary preaching. In this point of view it is a book of no small
value, not only for " the grossly ignorant and ungodly," but also
for divines however "learned." He who reads it carefully will
hardly wonder at Baxter's success as a preacher ; and may learn
from it more of the manner in which truth should be presented to
the minds of men, than from many a learned work on rhetoric and
homiletics. The work is at the same time worthy of diligent at
tention as a theological treatise. It shows what views of ' conver
sion' were entertained by a man whose success in promoting the
conversion of sinners has rarely been equaled.
22. Several single sheets, corresponding in their plan with the
publications of our Tract Societies were among the works which
he published in 1657. The titles of these were "A Winding
Sheet for Popery ;" " One Sheet for the Ministry against Malig-
nants of all sorts ;" " One Sheet against the Quakers ;" " A se
cond Sheet for the Ministry, justifying our calling against the Qua
kers, Seekers, and Papists, and all that deny us to be the Ministers
of Christ ;" and " A Sheet directing Justices in corporations to
discharge their duty to God." The industry and spirit of the au
thor has been illustrated by a few words from one of these fugi
tive publications.
" The Quakers say, we are idle drones, that labor not, and there
fore should not eat. The worst I wish you is, that you had but my
ease instead of your labor. I have reason to take myself for the

LIFE 01 RICHARD BAXTER. 157
least of saints, and yet I fear not to tell the accuser that I take the
labor of most tradesman in the town to be a pleasure to the body,
in comparison with mine ; though for the ends and pleasure of my
mind, I would not change it with the greatest prince. Their labor
preserveth health, and mine consumeth it ; they work in ease, and
I in continual pain ; they have hours and days of recreation, I have
scarce time to eat and drink. Nobody molesteth them for their
labor, but the more I do, the more hatred and trouble I draw upon
me. If a Quaker ask me what all this labor is, let him come and
see^or do as I do, and he shall know."*
23. " A call to the Unconverted to turn and live, and accept of
mercy while mercy may be had, as ever they would find mercy in
the day of their extremity : From the Living God. To which are
added Forms of Prayer for morning and evening for a family, for
a penitent sinner and for the Lord's day." Svo. published in 1657.
" The occasion of this," he says, " was my converse with Bishop
Usher, while I was at London, who much approving my ' Direc
tions for peace of conscience,' was importunate with me to write
directions suited to the various states of Christians, and also against
particular sins. I reverenced the man ; but disregarded these per
suasions, supposing I could do nothing but what is done as well or
better already. But when he was dead, his words went deeper
to my mind, and I purposed to obey his counsel ; yet so as that to
the first sort of men, the ungodly, I thought vehement persuasions
meeter than directions only. And so for such, I published this
little book ; which God hath blessed with unexpected success be
yond all the rest that I have written, except the ' Saint's Rest.' In
a little more than a year, there were about twenty thousand of
them printed by my own consent, and about ten thousand since ;
besides many thousands, by stolen impressions, which poor men
stole for lucre's sake. Through God's mercy, I have had informa
tion of almost whole households being converted by this small book,
which I set so light by; and, as if all this in England, Scotland,
and Ireland, were not mercy enough to me, God, since I was si-
* This quotation is on the authority of Orme.

I 53 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
lenced, hath sent it over on his message to many beyond the seas.
For when Mr. Elliot had printed all the Bible in the Indians' lan
guage, he next translated this my ' Call to the Unconverted,' as
he wrote to us here ; and though it was here thought prudent to
begin with the ' Practice of Piety,' because of the envy and distate
of the times against me, he had finished it before that advice came
to him. Yet God would make some further use of it ; for Mr.
Stoop, the pastor of the French church in London, being driven
hence by the displeasure of superiors, was pleased to translate it in
to elegant French, and print it in a very curious letter; and I hope
it will not be unprofitable there, nor in Germany, where it is print
ed in Dutch."*
The work is too well known, and too extensively useful at the
present day, to need either description or eulogy. I may add,
however, to what the author has said in the paragraph just cited,
diat it has been translated into most of the languages of Europe ;
and that the men who in the spirit and power of Elliot are now
carrying the gospel to every nation, will probably find themselves
constrained to imitate his example, till Baxter's Call, " that small
book which he set so light by," shall be read in every language of
mankind. 24. " The crucifying of the World by the cross of Christ, With
a preface to the nobles, gentlemen, and all the rich, directing them
how they may be richer." 4to. published in 1658. This was ori
ginally an assize sermon preached at Worcester on the request of
his early friend Mr. Thomas Foley, then high sheriff of the coun
ty. In preparing it for the press, he enlarged it into a treatise of
about three hundred pages, which deserves a place among his most
eloquent and finished productions.
25. "A Treatise of Saving Faith." 4to. published in 1658.
In some of his former publications he had been understood as main
taining " that saving faith differeth not in kind but in degree, from
common faith." Dr. Barlow, then provost of~ Queen's College
Oxford, and afterwards bishop of Lincoln, had published, anony-
* Narrative. Part I. pp. 114, lis.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 150
mously, some strictures on this supposed opinion of Baxter's. To
these strictures Baxter replied in this work on Saving Faith.
26. " Confirmation and Restauration, the necessary means of
Reformation and Reconciliation ; for the healing of the corruptions
and divisions of the churches. Submissively, but earnestly ten
dered to the consideration of the Sovereign Powers, Magistrates,
Ministers, and People, that they may awake, and be up and doing
in the execution of so much as appeareth to be necessary ; as they
are true to Christ, his Church and Gospel, and to their own and
others' souls, and to the peace and welfare of the Nations ; and as
they will answer the neglect to Christ at their peril." 12mo. pub
lished in 1658. A Mr. Hanmer had written a work on confirma
tion, urging the necessity of some solemn introduction of persons
at adult age to the privileges of church membership, and at his re
quest, Baxter had prefixed to that work an Introductory Epistle.
The inquiries which that publication occasioned, led Baxter to take
up the subject again, aud to discuss it more at large, presenting the
testimony of die scriptures. The design of the book is simply to
show that no person ought to be admitted to the privileges of adult
membership in any church, save on the public profession of his
conversion and faith, and that of the satisfactoriness of such pro
fession the pastor ought to be the judge.
27. " Directions and Persuasions to a Sound Conversion, for
prevention of tiiat Deceit and Damnation of Souls, and of those
Scandals, Heresies, and desperate Apostasies, that are consequents
of a counterfeit or superficial change." 8vo. published in 165S.
This was designed as a sequel to his "Call to the Unconverted."
" After the Call, I thought," he says, " that according to Bishop
Usher's method, the next sort that I should write for is those that
are under the work of conversion, because by half-conversions,
multitudes prove deceived hypocrites."* He oppears to have va
lued this work more highly than the call, probably he bestowed
more labor on it. Yet, owing as he thought to the bad manage
ment of the booksellers, it passed through only two or three edi
tions. * Narrative, Part T. p. 1 15.

160 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTEK.
28. " Five Disputations of Church Government and Worship.*'
4to. published in 1658. " I published these," he says, 'in order
to the reconciliation of the differing parties. In the first I proved
that the English diocesan prelacy is intolerable, which none hath
answered. In the second, I have proved the validity ofthe ordi
nation then exercised without diocesans in England, which no man
hath answered, though many have urged men to be re-ordained.
In the third, I have proved that there are divers sorts of episcopacy
lawful and desirable. In the fourth and fifth, I show the lawfulness
of some ceremonies, and of a liturgy, and what is unlawful here."*
29. " The Judgment and Advice of the Associated Ministers of
Worcestershire, concerning Mr. John Dury's Endeavors after Ec
clesiastical Peace." 4to. published in 1648. Whatever was
done in the Worcestershire Association, Baxter seems to have been
the doer of it. Of the occasion of this pamphlet he says, " Mr.
John Dury having spent thirty years in endeavors to reconcile
the Lutherans and Calvinists, was now going over sea again in that
work, and desired the judgment of our association, how it should be
successfully expedited ; which at their desire I drew up more large
ly in Latin, and more briefly in English. The English letter he
printed, as my letter to Mr. Dury for pacification. "f
30. Universal Concord." 12mo. published in 1658. This was
another of his contributions to the cause of catholic communion.
" Having heen desired," he says, " in the time of our associations,
to draw up those terms which all christian churches may hold com
munion upon, I published them, though too late for any such use
(till God gave men better minds,) that the world might see what
our religion and terms of communion were ; and that if after ages
prove more peaceable, they may have some light from those that
went before them."|
31. "The Grotian Religion discovered, at the invitation of Mr.
Thomas Pierce." 12mo. published in 1658. In the Universal
Concord, he had spoken of Grotius as a concealed papist, and as
having designed a reunion of the protestant churches with the
church of Rome on the ground of mutual concession ; and had in-
* Narrative Part I. p. 117. f Ibid. p. 117. J Ibid. p. 119

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.. 161
timated that some were still prosecuting that design. This intima
tion awakened the wrath of one Mr. Thomas Pierce, who replied
by an abusive attack on Baxter and the Puritans, making it howev
er his principal business to defend Grotius. To this, Baxter re
sponded in his " Grotian Religion Discovered." The controversy
seems to have excited a great interest, as it was in fact an examina
tion of the popish tendencies ascribed to the Arminian prelatists
of those days, the followers of Laud. " This book," he says, " the
printer abused, printing every section so distant to fill up paper, as
if they had been several chapters." Few authors, in these days,
would complain of such " abuse."
32. "Four Disputatious of Justification." 4to. published in
1658. This work was designed as a further explanation and de
fense of his supposed peculiar views on that subject. It was a
continuation of the controversy which had grown out of the publi
cation of his Aphorisms.
33. " A Key for the Catholics, to open the Juggling of the Je
suits, and satisfy all that are but truly willing to understand, whether
the cause of the Roman or Reformed Churches is of God." 4to.
published in 1659. "Those that were not prejudiced against this
book," he says, " have let me know that it hath not been without
success ; it being indeed a sufficient armory for to furnish a protes-
tant to defend his religion against all the assaults of the papists
whatsoever ; and teacheth him how to answer all their books.
The second part doth briefly deal with the French and Grotian
party that are for the supremacy of a council, at least as to the le
gislative power ; and showeth that we never had a general council,
nor can it be at all expected."*
34. "' Holy Commonwealth ; or, Political Aphorisms : opening
the true principles of Government; for the healing ofthe mistakes,
and resolving the doubts, that most endanger and trouble England at
this time ; and directing the desires of sober christians that long to
see the Kingdoms of this world become the Kingdoms of the Lord
and of his Christ.'" 8vo. published in 1659. This work was

* Narrative, Part I. p. US.
Vol. 1. 21

162 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
published at a moment of peculiar interest. Oliver Cromwell had
gone from his throne to the grave. Richard had succeeded to the
protectorate without any apparent opposition; but his hand was too
feeble to hold the iron scepter which his father had swayed with so
great ability. The leaders of the army were making arrangements
to regain the power which they considered theirs by right of con
quest ; and the republican politicians whom the protector had
so disappointed and baffled, were again beginning to hope for
the speedy consummation of their schemes. Another man in such
circumstances, might have waited to see which way the tide would
turn, before venturing on any political discussion. But Baxter
rarely acted with any reference to personal expediency ; and at
this very juncture, even when Richard Cromwell had already abdi
cated, he came out with a book in the former part of which he
pleaded for a monarchical form of government, and in the conclusion
of which, he eloquently defended the war of parliament against the
usurpations of Charles. Thus he equally displeased the republi
cans on the one hand and the royalists on the other. But let us
hear his own account of the book and of the occasion on which it
was written.
" The hook which hath furnished my enemies with matter of revi
ling which none must dare lo answer, is my ' Holy Commonwealth.'
The occasion of it was this ; when our pretorian sectarian bands
had cut all bonds, pulled down all government, and after the death
of the king had twelve years kept out his son, few men saw any
probability of his restitution, and every self-conceited fellow was ready
to offer his model for a new form of government. Mr. Hobbes'
' Leviathan,' had pleased many. Mr. Thomas White, the great Pa
pist, had written his Politics in English, for the interest ofthe protec
tor, to prove that subjects ought to submit and subject themselves to
such a change. And now Mr. James Harrington (they say, by the
help of Mr. Neville) had written a book in folio for a democracy,
called Oceana, seriously describing a form near to the Venetian,
nd setting the people upon the desires of a change. After this,
Sir H. Vane and his party were about their sectarian democratical
model, which Stubbs defended. Rogers, Needham, and Mr. Bag
shaw, had also written against monarchy before. In the end of an

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 163
epistle before my book of ' Crucifying the World,' I had spoken a
few words against this innovation and opposition to monarchy ; and
having especially touched upon ' Oceana' and ' Leviathan,' Mr.
Harrington seemed in a Bethlehem rage; for byway of scorn he
printed half a sheet of foolish jeers, in such words as idiots or
drunkards use, railing at ministers as a pack of fools and knaves;
and by his gibberish derision persuading men that we deserve no oth
er answer than such scorn and nonsense as beseemeth fools. With
most insolent pride he carried it, as if neither I nor any ministers
understood at all what policy was, but prated against, we knew not
what, and had presumed to speak against other men's art, which
he was master of, and his knowledge, to such idiots as we, incom
prehensible. This made me think it fit, having given that general
hint against his ' Oceana,' to give a more particular charge, and
withal to give the world and him an account of my political princi
ples, to show what I held as well as what I denied ; which I did in
that book called ' Holy Commonwealth,' as contrary to his heathen
ish commonwealth. In which I pleaded the cause of monarchy
as better than democracy and aristocracy ; but as under God the
universal monarch. Here Bishop Morley hath his matter of
charge against me, of which one part is that 1 spake against unlimit-
ed| monarchy, because God himself hath limited all monarcbs.
If I had said laws limit monarchs, I might, amongst some men, be
thought a traitor and inexcusable ; but to say that God limiteth
monarchs, I thought had never before been chargeable with treason,
or opposed by any that believed that there is a God. If they are
indeed unlimited in respect of God, we have many Gods or no
God. But now it is dangerous to meddle with these matters,
most men say, Let God defend himself.
"In the end of this book is an appendix concerning the cause
of the parliament's first war." "And this paper it is that con
tained! all my crimes. Against this, one Tomkins wrote a book
called the ' The Rebel's Plea.' But 1 wait in silence till God
enlighten us."*
For this book the author was reproached and vilified through all

Narrative, Part II. pp. 113,119.

164 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the remainder of his life. It was honored by a decree of the Uni
versity of Oxford, which consigned it to the fire in company with
other defenses of British freedom.
35. "A Treatise of Death, the last Enemy to be destroyed:
showing wherein its enmity consisteth, and how it is to be destroyed.
Part of it was preached at the funeral of Elizabeth, the late wife of
Mr. Joseph Baker, Pastor of the church of St. Andrews in Worces
ter. With some passages of the life of tbe said Mrs. Baker ob
served." 8vo. This is a work of nearly a hundred pages, first
published in 1659.
36. "A Treatise of Self-denial." 4to. published in 1659.
This is a work of nearly four hundred pages, " which," he says,
" found better acceptance than most of my other books, but yet
prevented not the ruin of church, and state, and millions of souls
by the sin of selfishness."
37. " Catholic Unity : or the only way to bring us all to be of
one religion. To be read by such as are offended at the differ
ences in religion, and are willing to do their part to heal them."
12mo. published in 1659.
38. " The True Catholic, and Catholic Church described ; and
the vanity of the papists, and all other schismatics, that confine the
catholic church to their sect, discovered and shamed." 12mo.
published in 1659.
These two works were sermons which he had formerly preach
ed, one in London, and the other in Worcester. They came out
at a time when the nation was in a revolutionary state. The pres
byterians were hoping to regain their political ascendency. Bax
ter probably thought it a favorable time to speak once more in be
half of those truly catholic principles, for which he had so zealously
labored. These pamphlets were published in December ; in the
April following (1660) he came to London, and his labors with his
beloved flock he was never permitted to resume.

PART FOURTH.

The death of Oliver Cromwell, which took place on the third of
September 1658, was soon followed by great and amazing changes
in the commonwealth which he had so long and prosperously gov
erned. His eldest son, Richard, succeeded to the vacant throne,
as peaceably, and received the congratulations of the nation on his
accession as unanimously as if he had traced back his title through
a line of kings, even to the age of William the conqueror. But
Richard bad little of the talent and less ofthe spirit of his father.
The hopes of the disappointed republicans began to revive. A
parliament was summoned, the majority of which, with the presby
terian part of the army, was friendly to the young protector. The
principal officers of the army however, some from disappointed
ambition, and some from principle as republicans, soon began to
enter into cabals against him. In an unfortunate moment he was
persuaded to consent to the meeting of a " general council of offi
cers ;" and from that moment the military aristocracy which had
governed before Oliver concentrated the power into his own
hands, was revived. The parliament, alarmed at this movement,
made an ineffectual. resistance. The heads of the army demanded
of the protector the dissolution of the parliament. Richard saw
that his refusal would immediately involve the nation in another
civil war ; he felt himself unequal to such a conflict ; his kind
and peaceful temper shrunk from the prospect of bloodshed; and
the parliament was instantly dissolved. A few days afterwards
he formally abdicated his authority, and retired to private life, prob
ably without a sigh over his fallen grandeur. In the obscurity for
which his nature fitted him, he lived, respected for his private vir
tues, and unmolested, through several succeeding reigns.

166 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
The "council of officers" found themselves once more at the
head of the British empire. By them, the remnant of the old
Long Parliament, die despised and hated Rump, was revived and
reinstated in its authority, as it existed immediately before its disso
lution by Oliver Cromwell. No movement could have had more
effect in wakening universal alarm and indignation. The presby
terians, though they migbt been contented under ihe administration
of Richard, were many of them loyalists upon principle, and were
all opposed to every thought of such a commonwealth as either the
military republicans of the army, or the political enthusiasts of the
Rump, would have erected. An extensive conspirac}' was entered
into between tbe cavaliers and the presbyterians ; and the restora
tion ofthe old monarchy was secretly agreed upon, as the only re
fuge from the anarchv in which the nation seemed likely to be in
volved. On an appointed day the conspirators were to rise in all
parts of England, and Charles had already arrived at Calais, with
the intention of immediately passing over and putting himseif at
the head ofthe insurrection. But that contemptible and profligate
prince was always surrounded by associates as unprincipled as him
self, who supported their profligacy by betraying all his counsels to
his enemies. Thus this projected effort was disclosed, just in time
to prevent that unanimous and simultaneous movement which alone
could be successful. The cavaliers, Baxter says, failed to perform
their part of the engagement. Sir George Booth and Sir William
Middleton, two presbyterian officers of the old parliamentary armies,
succeeded in raising about five thousand men in North Wales and
the adjoining counties, and took possession ofthe city of Chester, de
claring for a " free parliament." This rising was soon suppressed
by a detachment ofthe standing army; but it was immediately fol
lowed by a rupture between the military leaders and the Rump,
which ended in another dissolution of that body. The council of
officers again took it upon themselves to settle the nation ; and by
them a committee of safety was appointed with ample powers for
the temoorary administration of the government. This was in Oc
tober 1659.
General Monk was a man in whose military talents and fidelity,
Cromwell seems to have reposed much confidence ; and he had

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 167
for many years commanded the army in Scotland. He had peace
ably and submissively acknowledged not only the government of
Richard, but that of the restored parliament. When that parlia
ment was again dissolved by ihe same military usurpation which
had revived it, Monk, urged by the solicitations of the various dis
contented parties, made arrangements to march into England, and
wrote to the military usurpers there, chiding them for the violence
which they had put upon parliament. As he advanced, men of
every party looked to him with strong hope. He had been an in
dependent ; and the independents, while they were not without
fear in regard to his designs, hoped for the establishment of a re
public on the foundation of civil and religious freedom. He
purged his army of all those officers whom he suspected of any
sympathy with the men he was going to encounter ; and as these
officers were generally anabaptists, the presbyterians began to hope
that covenant uniformity would come again out of Scotland in its
former glory. The parliament hoped for another restoration of
their power ; for he had acknowledged their recent authority, and
now he seemed to espouse their quarrel. The cavaliers hoped that
either by negotiation he might be persuaded, or by the force of
circumstances he might be compelled, to declare for their cause.
Lambert, who in talent and influence was the head of the new
government, marched with a great part of the army to repel this in
vasion. But every where he found the passions and hopes of
the people against him. His own soldiers soon began to deserthim.
The regiments left in London revolted ; and supported by them,
the Rump once more assumed the government of the three nations.
But after the ostensible object with which Monk commenced
his march into England was already attained, he still continued to
advance with all his forces, not waiting for any orders from the re
stored parliament. The Rump, though not fully assured of his
fidelity to them, could not venture to order back their deliverer in
to his own province. They therefore only expressed their de
sire that a good part of his forces might be sent back into Scotland.
He complied with that request ; but still continued his progress
with about five thousand men on whom he knew he could depend.
The people were generally in his favor ; and he encountered no

1''8 LIFE OF RICHARO BAXTER.
opposition. It was widely understood that he was in favor of a new
and free parliament; though all his public declarations were full of
fidelity to the parliament then existing. When he had arrived '
within twenty or thirty miles of London, he sent a message to the
parliament requesting that the regiments then quartered about the
city might be withdrawn, lest there should fall out some collision
between them and his troops. With this request they were con
strained to comply ; and on the third of February 1 660, Monk, at
the head of his army entered the metropolis as in triumph, and
quartered with his troops in Westminster.
After a few days of indecision, the general declared himself
openly for tbe presbyterian interest, and for a commonwealth in
which there should be neither king nor protector, nor house of
lords ; and supported by his authority, those members who were
excluded in 1648, again took their seats in parliament. The ma
jority of the house were now presbyterians ; and as presbyterians,
they began to take measures which looked toward the restoration
of the monarchy, on such terms and with such limitations as should
be agreeable to their party. They appointed a new council of
state for the temporary administration of the government ; and on
the seventeenth of March, having provided for the election of a new
parliament to meet on the twenty-fifth of the ensuing month, they
passed the act of their own dissolution.
The act for the election of the new parliament, had directed that
none who had been in arms against the Long Parliament should be
elected. Having put up this defence against the cavaliers, the pres
byterians used their diligence to prevent the election of men of re
publican principles. This diligence of theirs was ill-timed; it amal
gamated them for the moment with. their oldest, bitterest and most ir
reconcilable enemies; their own voices were drowned in the clam
or which themselves had begun for the king and against the com
monwealth ; und the result was that in many places the loyalty of
the people broke over the barrier of the disabling clause, and elect
ed old cavaliers to negotiate with the king about his restoration and
their own, and in many other places the members elected were
equally unworthy to be trusted with the liberties ofthe nation.
When Monk saw that the tide of popular feeling was turned for

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 1(3Q
the king, he fell in with the current, and commenced a secret cor
respondence with Charles, advising him to be in readiness for an
immediate return.
As soon as the new parliament came together, it was no longer
doubtful that all things were ripe for restoration, and for a complete
triumph of the old royalists. In a word, the king was recalled
without any condition, and without any security for that civil and
religious liberty which the people had wrested from his father in a
painful conflict. A strange infatuation seized upon the nation ;
and if Charles had been restored by the bayonets of the French
and Spanish monarchies, he could not have come in on terms more
favorable to himself and his partisans. He arrived at London on
the 29th of May, 1660.
Baxter came from Kidderminster to London, in April, just before
tho assembling of the parliament. What his business was in com
ing to the metropolis at that time, he does not inform us. We may
safely suppose, however, that he came to be present with his presby
terian friends, and to aid by his counsels and activity in the great
matter of the restoration. That the king should be restored, the
presbyterians were all agreed ; and their vain hope was that by
their forwardness in bringing him back, they might secure the esta
blishment of their ecclesiastical system, or at least of something so
much like it that they could live under it in peace. This exceed
ing forwardness of theirs, defeated, as we have already seen, its
own object, and gave their bitterest enemies the greatest possible
advantage over them. Many of them trembled at the turn which
affairs were taking, and at the part which they themselves were
acting; but others, in the fever of their loyalty, hoped much from
the gratitude of Charles, and trusted to the notion of his having
learned wisdom from the fate of his father, and suffered themselves
to be duped by the letters which his courtiers procured to be writ
ten from France and Holland commending his devotion and his
zeal for the protestant religion.
" When I was at London," says Baxter, " the new parliament
being called, they presently appointed a day of fasting and prayer
for themselves. The House of Commons chose Mr. Calamy,
Dr. Gauden, and myself, to preach and pray with them at St. Mar-
Vol. I. 22

170 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
garet's, Westminster. In that sermon, I uttered some passages
which were afterwards matter of some discourse. Speaking of
our differences and the way to heal them, I told them that, wheth
er we should be loyal to our king was none of our differences. In
that, we were all agreed ; it being not possible that a man should
be true to the protestant principles and not be loyal ; as it was im
possible to be true to the Papist principles, and to be loyal. And
'or the concord now wished in matters of church government, I
told them it was easy for moderate men to come to a fair agree
ment, and that the late reverend Primate of Ireland and myself
had agreed in half an hour. I remember not the very words, but
you may read them in the sermon, which was printed by order of
the House of Commons." " The next morning after this day of
fasting, the parliament unanimously voted home the king."
" The city of London, about that time, was to keep a day of so
lemn thanksgiving for General Monk's success ; and the lord may
or and aldermen desired me to preach before them at St. Paul's
church ; wherein I so endeavored to show the value of that mercy,
as to show also, how sin and men's abuse might turn it into matter
of calamity, and what should be right bounds and qualifications of
that joy. The moderate were pleased with it ; the fanatics were
offended with me for'keeping such a thanksgiving ; and the dioce
san party thought I did suppress their joy. The words may be
seen in the sermon ordered to be printed.
" But the other words, about my agreement with Bishop Usher, in
the sermon before the parliament, put me to most trouble. For pres
ently many moderate episcopal divines came to me to know what
those terms of our agreement were. And thinking verily that others
of their party had been as moderate as themselves, they entered upon
debates for our general concord ; and we agreed as easily among
ourselves in private, as if almost all our differences were at an end.
Among others, I had speech about it with Dr. Gauden, who prom
ised to bring Dr. Morley and many more of that party to meet with
some of the other party at Dr. Bernard's lodgings. There came
none on that side but Dr. Gauden and Dr. Bernard ; and none of the
Other side But Dr.-Manton and myself; and so little was done, but
only desires of concord expressed." "Thus men were every day
talking of concord, but to little purpose as appeared in the issue."

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 171
" When the king was sent for by the parliament, certain divines,
with others, were also sent by the parliament and city to him into
Holland : viz. Mr. Calamy, Dr. Manton, Mr. Bowles, and divers
others ; and some went voluntarily ; to whom his majesty gave
such encouraging promises of peace, as raised some of them to
high expectations. And when he came in, as he passed through
the city towards Westminster, the London ministers in their places
attended him with acclamations, and by the hands of old Mr. Ar
thur Jackson, presented him with a richly adorned Bible, which
he received, and told them, it should be the rule of his actions."
For a while after the restoration it seemed necessary to cajole
the presbyterians with the hope of an improved liturgy and of such
changes in respect to episcopacy as would admit of their being in
cluded within the pale of the establishment. With this view ten
or twelve of the leading presbyterian ministers were nominated to
be the king's chaplains in ordinary. Mr. Calamy, and Dr. Rey
nolds, were first appointed ; soon -afterwards Mr. Ash, and Mr.
Baxter ; then Dr. Spurstow, Dr. Wallis," Dr. Bates and' others.
None of them however were ever called to preach at court ex
cept Calamy, Reynolds, Baxter, and Spurstow, each of them
a single sermon. Baxter's sermon before the king was pub
lished, and was afterwards included in his work entitled the
' Life of Faith:' Not many kings, since King Agrippa, have had the
advantage of hearing the word of God so plainly and powerfully
preached, as Baxter preached it to King Charles II. on that occa
sion. The discourse was evidently written with more attention to
style than the author ordinarily bestowed on such matters ; yet
in its bold and pungent exhibition of the truth, it is like all his oth
er writings. The sermon contains no direct address to the king,
nor even one distinct allusion to him. But there are many passa
ges, pointed in that peculiar way which must have made them felt
by the monarch and his profligate attendants. " Faith," said the
preacher, "is the wisdom ofthe soul; and unbelief and sensuality
are its blindness, folly and brutishness." " Will you persuade us
that the man is wise, that can climb a little higher than his neigh
bors, that he may have the greater fall ? That is attended in his
way to hell with greater pomp and state than others ? That can

172 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
sin more syllogistically and rhetorically than the vulgar ; and more
prudently and gravely run into damnation ; and can learnedly de
fend his madness, and prove that he is safe at the brink of hell ?
Would you persuade us that he is wise, that contradicts the God and
rule of wisdom, and that parts' with heaven for a few merry hours,
and hath not wit to save his soul ? When they see the end, and are
arrived at eternity, let them boast of their wisdom, as tbey find
cause : we will take them then for more competent judges. Let
the eternal God be the portion of my soul ; let heaven be my inhe
ritance and hope; let Christ be my Head, and the promise my se
curity, let faith be my wisdom, and love be my very heart and will,
and patient, persevering obedience be my life ; and then I can
spare the wisdom of the world, because I can spare the trifles that
it seeks, and all that they are like to get by it."
Not long after the king's return, Baxter, in an interview with
Lord Broghill and tbe earl of Manchester, two noblemen who
though known as presbyterians were men of some influence at
court on account of their great services in promoting the restora
tion, spoke ofthe conversations which he had held with some epis
copal divines, respecting union in the church; and urged the im
portance of a conference between the leading men of the two par
ties for the sake of finding on what terms a union might be effected.
On this suggestion Broghill "proposed to the king a conference for
an agreement ;" and within a few days Baxter and Calamy were
informed that the king was pleased with that proposal, and was re
solved to further it. This led to a personal interview between the
king and his ten presbyterian chaplains, which took place about the
middle of June at the earl of Manchester's lodgings. Ofthe part
which Baxter acted in this interview, we have a full account from
his own pen.
" We exercised more boldness, at first, than afterwards would
have been borne. When some of the rest had congratulated his
majesty's happy Restoration, and declared the large hope which they
had of a cordial union among all dissenters by his means, I pre
sumed to speak to him of the concernments of religion, and how far
- we were from desiring the continuance of any factions or parties in
|ffie church, and how much a happy union would conduce to the
., good of the land, and to his majesty's satisfaction ; and though there

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 113
were turbulent, fanatic persons in his dominions, yet that those
ministers and godly people whose peace we humbly craved of him
were no such persons ; but such as longed after concord, -and were
truly loyalto him, and desired no more than1 to live under him a
quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness ar.d honesty. And where
as there were differences between them and their brethren, about
some ceremonies or discipline- of the church, we humbly craved
his majesty's favor for the ending of those differences ; it being easy
for him to interpose, that so the people might not be deprived of
their faithful pastors, nor ignorant, scandalous, unworthy ones ob
truded on them.
" I presumed to tell him, that the people we spoke for were such
as were contented with an interest in heaven, and the liberty and
advantages of the gospel to promote it ; and that if these were ta
ken from them, and they were deprived of their faithful pastors,
and liberty of worshipping God, they would take themselves as un
done in this world, whatever plenty else they should enjoy; and
the hearts of his most faithful subjects, who hoped for his help,
would even be broken ;- and we doubted not but his majesty desi
red to govern a people made happy by him, and not a broken heart
ed people who took themselves to be undone by the loss of that
which is dearer to them than all the riches of the world. I pre
sumed to tell him, that the late usupers that were over us so well
understood their own interest, that to promote it, they had found the
way of doing good to be the most effectual moans ; and had placed
and encouraged many thousand faithful ministers in the church,
even such as detested their usurpation ; and so far had they attain
ed their ends hereby, that it was the principal means of their inter
est in the people, and the good opinion that many had conceived of
them ; and those of them that had taken the contrary course had
thereby broken themselves in pieces- Wherefore, I humbly craved
his majesty, that as he was our lawful king, in whom all his people
were prepared to centre, so he would be pleased to undertake this
blessed work of promoting their holiness and concord ; for it was
not faction or disobedience which we desired him to indulge ; and
that he would never suffer himself to be tempted to undo the good
which Cromwell, or any other had done, because they were usur-

174 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
pers that did it ; or discountenance a faithful ministry, because his
enemies had set them up ; but that he would rather outgo them in
doing good, and opposing and rejecting the ignorant and ungodly, of
what opinion or party soever, for the people whose cause we re
commended to him, had their eyes on him as the officer of God, to
defend them in the possession of the helps of their salvation ; which
if he were pleased to vouchsafe them, their estates and lives would
be cheerfully offered to his service.
" And I humbly besought him that he would never suffer his
subjects to be tempted to have favorable thoughts ofthe late usurp
ers, by seeing the vice indulged which they suppressed, or the
godly ministers of the gospel discountenanced whom they encoura
ged ; for the common people are apt to judge of governors by the
effects, even by the good or evil which they feel, and they will take
him to be the best governor who doth them most good, and him
to be the worst who doth them most hurt. And all his enemies
could not teach him a more effectual way to restore the reputation
and honor of the usurpers than to do worse than they, and destroy
the good which they had done." " And, again, I humbly craved
that no misrepresentations might cause him to believe, that because
some fanatics have been factious and disloyal, therefore the reli
gious people in his dominions, who are most careful of their souls,
are such, though some of them may be dissatisfied about some
forms and ceremonies in God's worship, which others use : and
that none of them might go under so ill a character with him, by
misreports behind their backs, till it were proved of them personal
ly, or they had answered for themselves : for we, that better knew
them than those likely to be their accusers, did confidently testify
to his majesty on their behalf, that they are the resolved enemies of
sedition, rebellion, disobedience, and divisions, which the world
should see, and their adversaries be convinced of, if his majesty's
wisdom and clemency did but remove those occasions of scruple in
some points of discipline and worship of God, which give advan
tage to others to call all dissenters factious and disobedient, how
loyal and peaceable soever.
" I further, humbly craved, that the freedom and plainness of
these expressions to bis majesty might be pardoned, as being ex-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 175
tracted by the present necessity, and encouraged by our revived
hopes. I told him also, that it was not for presbyterians, or any
party, as such, that we were speaking, but for the religious part of
his subjects as such, than whom no prince on earth had better. I
also told him how considerable a part of the kingdom be would find
them to be ; and of what great advantage their union would be to
his majesty, to the people, and to the bishops themselves, and how
easily it might be procured — by making only things necessary to be
the terms of union — by the true exercise of church discipline against
sin, — and by not casting out the faithful ministers that must exer
cise it, and obtruding unworthy men upon the people : and how
easy it was to avoid the violating of men's solemn vows and cove
nants, without hurt to any others. And finally, I repuested that we
might be heard to speak for ourselves, when any accusations were
brought against us.
" These, with some other such things, I then spake, when some
of my brethren had spoken first. Sir. Simeon Ash also spake
much to the same purpose, and of all our desires of his majesty's
assistance in our desired union. The king gave us not only a
free audience, but as gracious an answer as we could expect ; pro
fessing his gladness to hear our inclinations to agreement, and his
resolution to do his part to bring us together ; and that it must not
be by bringing one party over to the other, but by abating some
what on both sides, and meeting in the midway ; and that if it were
not accomplished, it should be owing to ourselves and not to him.
Nay, that he was resolved to see it brought to pass, and that he
would draw us together himself, with some more to that purpose.
Insomuch that old Mr. Ash burst out into tears of joy, and could
not forbear expressing what gladness this promise of his majesty
had put into his heart."*
About the same time the king required them to draw up, and
bring to him their own proposals for an agreement with the episco
pal party, on the subject of chureh government. They told him
they were only a few individuals, and could not undertake to rep
resent the opinions or the wishes of their brethren ; and therefore
* Narrative, Part II. pp. 230, 231.

176 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
desired leave to consult with their brethren in the country. This
was refused on the ground that it would take too much time, and
would make too much noise. He assured them tljat his intention
was only to consult with a few individuals of each party. On their
particular request he promised them that when they offered their
concessions, the brethren on the olher side should bring in theirs,
and should state the utmost that they could yield for the sake of
concord. Accordingly they held a few meetings at Sion College, the usual
place of meeting for the London ministers. Their consultations
were with open doors, and as many of their brethren as chose,
came to assist them. They soon agreed on their proposals ; and
the extent of their concessions may be judged of by the fact that
the papers which they finally presented to the king were drawn up
mostly by Baxter, and by Dr. Reynolds and Dr. Worth, both of
whom were afterwards dignitaries in the church of England. The
amount of their requests was that episcopacy might be reduced to
the form drawn up and proposed to Charles I. by Archbishop Ush
er in the year 1641 ; a scheme in which the prelate became little
more than a stated president in the synod of the presbyters,
having the power of a negative voice on all their acts.
When they went to the king with these proposals, expecting of
course to meet there some divines of the other party, with their
proposals for accomodation and union, they found not one of them
there. " Yet it was not fit for us," says Baxter, " to expostulate
or complain. But his majesty very graciously renewed his profes
sions — I must not call them promises — that he would bring us to
gether, and see that the bishops should come down and yield on
their parts. When he had heard our papers, he seemed well
pleased with them, and told us he was glad we were for a liturgy
and yielded to the essence, of episcopacy, and therefore he doubted
not of our agreement with much more ; which we thought meet
to recite in our following addresses by way of gratitude, and for
other reasons easy to be conjectured."
After waiting a while for the promised proposals ofthe opposite
party, they received, instead of what they expected, only a sharp
and controversial reply to the papers which they had offered. The

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 177
bishops had determined to make no proposal but that of entire con
formity to the old episcopal establishment. Against this paper,
Baxter, at the request of his brethren, drew up a defense of their
proposals. But afterwards it was judged impolitic to provoke them
by a reply such as he had prepared.
^ Not long afterwards they were informed that another course had
been chosen ; and that the king would publish, in the form of a
royal declaration, all his intentions on the subject of ecclesiastical
affairs. This they were to see before it should be published, that
they might inform the king of whatever might be in their view in
consistent with the desired concord. A draught of the proposed
declaration was accordingly sent them by the Lord Chancellor
Hyde (afterwards earl of Clarendon.) Having perused it, they
saw that it would not serve the purpose professed. They drew up
their objections in the form of a petition to the king, the paper be
ing prepared by the ready pen of Baxter, and thoroughly revised
and amended by his brethren, who feared that the boldness and
plainness which he had used would give offense. This petition be
ing delivered to the lord chancellor, was still so ungrateful to his
feelings that he never called them to present it to the king. In
stead of that, he proposed to them to present the precise altera
tions in the royal declaration which they considered absolutely ne
cessary. With this proposal they complied. And on an appoint
ed day, they met the king at the lord chancellor's house, with
several ofthe bishops and lords. "The business ofthe day," says
Baxter, " was not to dispute ; but as the lord chancellor read
over the declaration, each party was to speak to what they disliked,
and the king to determine how it should be, as liked himself."
"The great matter which we stopped at was the word consent,
where the bishop is to confirm ' by the consent of the pastor of that
church ;' and the king would by no means pass the word * con
sent' either there or in the point of ordination or censures, because
it gave the ministers a negative voice."
In connection with this interview, one anecdote recorded by Bax
ter deserves to be repeated, as it helps to illustrate the character
of all the parties concerned. The king was already, as there is
much reason to believe, a secret papist ; at least he was determin-
Vol. I. 23

178 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
ed to go as far as he dared, in promoting the interests of the papists.
The bishops and other courtiers, had no disposition to object to
what they knew to be his wishes. The presbyterktns with all their
zealfor their own liberty, had not yet learned the great principle
of universal toleration against which they had so zealously con
tended in the days of the Commonwealth ; and Richard Baxter
was always too boldly consciencious not to speak his mind whatever
it might cost him.
" The most of the time being spent thus in speaking to particu
lars ofthe declaration, as it was read, when we came to the end,
the lord chancellor drew out another paper, and told us that the
king had been petitioned also by the Independents and Anabaptists;
and though he knew not what 10 think of it himself, and did not
very well like it, yet something he had drawn up which he would
read to us, and desire us also to give our advice about it. There
upon he read, as an addition to the declaration, ' that others also be
permitted to meet for religious worship, so be it they do it not to
the disturbance of the peace ; and that no justice of peace or offi
cer disturb tbem.' When he had read it, he again desired them
all to think on it, and give their advice ; but all were silent. The
Presbyterians all perceived, as soon as they heard it, that it would
secure the liberty of the Papists ; and Dr. Wallis whispered me in
the ear, and entreated me to say nothing, for it was an odious busi
ness, but to let the bishops speak to it. But the bishops would not
speak a word, nor any one of the Presbyterians, and so we were
like to have ended in silence. I knew, if we consented to it, it
would be charged on us, that we spake for a toleration of Papists
and sectaries: yet it might have lengthened out our own. And if
we spake against it, all sects and parties would be set against us as
the causers of their sufferings, and as a partial people that would
have liberty ourselves, but would have no others have it with us.
At last, seeing the silence continue, I thought our very silence
would be charged on us as consent, if it went on, and therefore I
only said this : ' That this reverend brother, Dr. Gunning, even
now speaking against sects, had named the Papists and the Socini-
ans : for our parts, we desired not favor to ourselves alone, and
rigorous severity we desired against none. As we humbly thanked

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 179
his majesty for his indulgence to ourselves, so we distinguished he
tolerable parties from the intolerable. " For the former, we humbly
craved just lenity and favor, but for the latter, such as the two sorts
named before by that reverend brother, for our parts, we could not
make their toleration our request.' To which his majesty said,
' there were laws enough against the Papists;' to which I replied,
that we understood the question to be, whether those laws should
be executed on them or not. And so his majesty broke up the
meeting of that day."
"When I went out from tbe meeting, I went dejected, as being
fully satisfied that the form of government in that declaration would
not be satisfactory, nor attain that concord which was our end, be
cause the pastors had no government of the flocks ; and I was re
solved to meddle no more in the business, but patiently suffer with
other dissenters. But two or three days after, I met the king's de
claration cried about the streets, and I presently stepped into a
house to read it ; and seeing the word consent put in about con
firmation and sacrament, though not as to jurisdiction, and seeing
the pastoral persuasive power of governing left to all the ministers
with the rural dean, and some more amendments, I wondered
how it came to pass, but was exceeding glad of it ; as perceiving
that now the terms were, though not such as we desired, such as
any sober, honest minister might submit to. I presently resolved
to do my best to persuade all, according to my interest and oppor
tunity, to conform according to the terms of this declaration, and
cheerfully to promote tbe concord of the church, and brotherly
love which this concord doth bespeak.
" Having frequent business with the lord chancellor about other
matters, 1 was going to him when I met the king's declaration in
the street ; and I was so much pleased with it, that having told him
why I was so earnest to have had it suited to the desired end, I
gave him hearty thanks for the additions, and told him that if the
liturgy were but altered as the declaration promised, and this set
tled and continued to us by a law, and not reversed, I should take
it to be my duty to do my best to procure the full consent of others,
and promote our happy concord on these terms; and should re
joice to see the day when factions and parties may all be swallowed

180 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
up in unity, and contentions turned to brotherly love. At that
time he began to offer me a Bishoprick, of which more anon."*
This rejoicing in the king's declaration was altogether premature.
The whole of this movement was designed only to gain time, to
keep the Presbyterians quiet with vain hopes, and to divide the
more moderate from the more zealous. This was the policy of
the court party, while their single intention was not only to bring
every thing back to the old footing, but to make the yoke of uni
formity heavier than before. A part of the same policy was, to
bring over or at least to silence some of the leaders whom they
feared, by giving them preferments in the church. Of the nego
tiation on this subject Baxter gives the following account.
"A little before the meeting about the king's declaration, Colo
nel birch came to me, as from the Lord Chancellor, to persuade
me to take the bishopric of Hereford, for he had bought tbe bish
op's house at Whitburne, and thought to make a better bargain
with me than with another, and, therefore, finding that the lord
chancellor intended me the offer of one, he desired it might be
that. I thought it best to give them no positive denial till I saw
the utmost of their intents : and I perceived that Colonel Birch
came privately, that a bishopric might not be publicly refused, and
to try whether I would accept it, that else it might not be offered
me; for he told me that they would not bear such a repulse. I
told him that I was resolved never to be bishop of Hereford, and
that I did not think I should ever see cause to take any bishopric;
but I could give no positive answer till I saw the king's resolutions
about the way of church government : for if the old diocesan frame
continued, he knew we could never accept or own it. After this,
not having a flat denial, he came again and again to Dr. Reynolds,
Mr. Calamy, and myself together, to importune us all to accept the
offer, for the bishopric of Norwich was offered to Dr. Reynolds,
and Coventry and Litchfield to Mr. Calamy; but he had no posi
tive answer, but the same from me as before. At last, the day
that the king's declaration came out, when I was with the lord

* Narrative, Part II. pp. 276, 279.

LITE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 181
chancellor, who did all, he asked me whether I would accept of a
bishopric; I told him that if he had asked me that question the
day before, I could easily have answered him that in conscience I
could not do it ; for though I would live peaceably under whatever
government the king should set up, I could not have a hand in exe
cuting it. But having, as I was coming to him, seen the king's
declaration, and seeing that by it the government is so far altered
as it is, I took myself for the church's sake exceedingly beholden
to his lordship for those moderations; and my desire to promote
the happiness of the church, which that moderation tendeth to, did
make me resolve to take that course which tendeth most thereto.
Whedier to take a bishopric by the way, I was in doubt, and de
sired some further time for consideration. But if his lordship would
procure us the settlement of the matter of that declaration, by pass
ing it into a law, I promised him to take that way in which I might
most serve the public peace.
" Dr. Reynolds, Mr. Calamy, and myself, had some speeches
oft together about it ; and we all thought that a bishopric might be
accepted according to the description of the declaration, without
any violation of the covenant, or owning the ancient prelacy : but
all the doubt was whether this declaration would be made a law as
was then expected, or whether it were but a temporary means to
draw us on till we came up to all the diocesans desired. Mr. Cal
amy desired that we might all go together, and all refuse or all ac
cept it.
"But by this time the rumor of it fled abroad, and the voice of
the city made a difference. For though they wished that none of
us should be bishops, yet they said Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Baxter,
being known to be for moderate episcopacy, their acceptance
would be less scandalous ; but if Mr. Calamy should accept it, who
had preached, and written, and done so much against it (which
were then at large recited,) never Presbyterian would be trusted
for his sake. So that the clamor was very loud against his accept
ance of it: and Mr. Matthew Newcomen, his brother-in-law, and
many more, wrote to me earnestly to dissuade him.
" For my own part, I resolved against it at the first, but not as a
thing which I judged unlawful in itself, as described in the king's

182 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
declaration : but 1 . I knew that it would take me off my writing.
2. I looked to have most of *the godly ministers cast out; and
what good could be done by ignorant, vile, incapable men ? 3.
I feared this declaration was but for a present use, and that shortly
it would be revoked or nullified. 4. And if so, I doubted not but
the laws would prescribe such work for bishops, in silencing minis
ters, and troubling honest Christians for their consciences, and ruling
the vicious with greater lenity, as that I had rather have the mean
est employment among men. 5. My judgment was also fully re
solved against the lawfulness of the old diocesan frame.
" But when Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Calamy asked my thoughts,
I told tbem that, distinguishing between what is simply, and what
is by accident, evil, I thought that as episcopacy is described in
the king's declaration, it is lawful when better cannot be had ; but
yet scandal might make it unfit for some men more than others.
To Mr. Calamy therefore I would give no counsel, but for Dr.
Reynolds, I persuaded him to accept it, so be it he would publicly
declare that he took it on the terms of the king's declaration, and
would lay it down when he could no longer exercise it on those
terms. Only I left it to his consideration whether it would be bet
ter to stay till he saw what they would do with the declaration ;
and for myself, I was confident I should see cause to refuse it.
" When I came to the lord chancellor the next day save one, he
asked me of my resolution, and put me to it so suddenly, that I
was forced to delay no longer, but told him that I could not accept
it for several reasons. And it was not the least that I thought I
could better serve the church without it, if he would but prosecute
the establishment ofthe terms granted. And because I thought it
would be ill taken if I refused it upon any but acceptable reasons,
and also that writing would serve best against misreports hereafter,
I the next day put a letter into the lord chancellor's hand, which
he took in good part; in which I concealed most of my reasons,
but gave the best, and used more freedom in my further requests
than I expected should have any good success."
" Mr. Calamy blamed me for giving in my denial alone, before
we had resolved together what to do. But I told him the truth,
that being upon other necessary business with the lord chancellor,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. I 83
he put me to it on the sudden, so that I could not conveniently de
lay my answer.
"Dr. Reynolds almost as suddenly accepted, saying, that some
friend had taken out the conge d'elire for him without bis know
ledge. But he read to me a profession directed to the king, which
he had written, where he professed that he took a bishop and a
presbyter to differ not online but gradu; that a bishop was but
the chief presbyter, and that he was not to ordain or govern but
with his presbyters' assistance and consentj; that he aocepted of
the place as described in the king's declaration, and not as it stood
before in England ; and that he would no longer hold or exercise
it than he could do it on these terms. To this sense it was, and he
told me that he would offer it to the king when he accepted of the
place ; but whether he did or not I cannot tell. He died in the
bishopric of Norwich, an. 1676."
"Mr. Calamy long suspended his answer, so that that bishopric
was long undisposed of; till he saw the issue of all of our treaty,
which easily resolved him. Dr. Manton was' offered the deanery
of Rochester, and Dr. Bates, the deanery of Coventry and Litch
field, which they both after some time refused. And, as I heard,
Mr. Edward Bowles was offered the deanery of York, at least,
which he refused."*
The king's declaration of which some account has already been
given, contained the following expression of his intentions concern
ing the book of common prayer. " Though we do esteem the lit
urgy of the church of England, contained in the book of common
prayer, and by law established, to be the best we have seen, and
we believe we have seen all that are extant and used in this part of
the world, and well know what reverence most of the reformed
churches, or at least the most learned men in those churches have
for it; yet since we find some exceptions made to many obsolete
words, and other expressions used therein, which upon the reform
ation and improvement of the English language may well be alter
ed, we will appoint some learned divines, of different persuasions
to review the same, and to make such alterations as shall be thought
" Narrative, Part IT. pp. 281, 'J84:

184 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
most necessary, and some such additional prayers as shall be
thought fit for emergent occasions, and the improvement of de
votion, the using of which may be left to the discretion of the min-
ters." This royal promise was yet to be fulfilled ; and on the ful
filment of this depended the value and efficacy of all the previous
negotiations. " Therefore," says Baxter, "being often with the
lord chancellor, I humbly entreated him to hasten the finishing of
that work, that we might rejoice in our desired concord. At last
Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Calamy were authorized to name the per
sons on that side to manage the treaty ; and a commision was
granted under the broad seal to the persons nominated on both
sides. I entreated Mr. Calamy and Dr. Reynolds, to leave me
out ; for though I much desired the expedition of the work, I found
that the last debates had made me unacceptable with my superiors,
and this would much more increase it, and other men might be fit
ter who were much less distasted. But I could not prevail with
them to excuse me." Twelve bishops were appointed on one side;
and as many of the leading presbyterian ministers on the other, in
cluding Reynolds, Calamy, and Baxter ; with nine assistants on
each side, among whom, on the presbyterian side, were men of no
less note than William Bates and John Lightfoot.
" A meeting was appointed," says Baxter in his account
of this affair, " and the Savoy, the bishop of London's lodg
ings, named by them for the place." " The commission being
read, the archbishop of York, a peaceable man, spake first, and
told us that he knew nothing of the business, but perhaps the
bishop of London knew more of the king's mind in it, and therefore
was fitter to speak in it than he. The bishop of London told us,
that it was not they, but we that had seen the seekers of this con
ference, and that desired alterations in the liturgy; and therefore
they had nothing to say or do, till we brought in all that we had to
say against it in writing, and all the additional forms and alterations
which we desired. Our brethren were very much against this
motion, and urged the king's commission, which required us to
meet together, advise, and consult. They told him that by con
ference we might perceive, as we went, what each would yield to,
and might more speedily dispatch, and probably attain, our end ;

LIFE OF RICHAltli BAXTEK. 185
whereas, writing would be a tedious, endless business, and we
should nol have that familiarity and acquaintance with each other's
minds, which might facilitate our concord. But the bishop of Lon
don resolutely insisted on it not- to do any thing till we brought in
all our exceptions, alterations, aud additions, at once. In this I
confess, above all things else, I was wholly of his mind, and pre
vailed with my brethren to consent ; but, I conjecture, upon con
trary reasons. For, I suppose, he thought that we should either be
altogether by the ears, and be of several minds among ourselves,
at least in our new forms ; or that when our proposals and forms
came to be scanned by them, they should find as much matter of
exception against ours as we did against theirs ; or that the people
of our persuasion would be dissatisfied or divided about it. And
indeed our brethren themselves, thought either all, or much of this
would come to pass, and our disadvantage would be exceeding
great. But I told them the reasons of my opinion : 1 . That we
should quickly agree on our exceptions, or offer none but what we
were agreed on. 2. That we were engaged to offer them new
forms, which was the expedient that from the beginning I had aim
ed at and brought in, as the only way of accommodation, consider
ing that they should be in Scripture words, and that ministers should
choose which forms they would. 3. That verbal disputes would
be managed with much more contention. 4. But above all, that
our cause would never else be well understood by our people, or
foreigners, or posterity ; but our conference and cause would be
misreported, and published, as the conference at Hampton Court
was, to our prejudice, and none durst contradict it : And that what
we said for our cause would in this way come fully and truly to the
knowledge of England, and of other nations ; and that if we re
fused this opportunity of leaving upon record our testimony against
corruptions, for a just and moderate reformation, we were never
like to have the like again. And upon these reasons, I told the
bishops that we accepted of the task which they imposed on us ;
yet so as to bring all our exceptions at one time, and all our addi
tions at another time, which they granted."*

* Narrative, Part II. pp. 305, 306.
Vol. I. 24

186

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

This plan having been determined on, the Presbyterian breth
ren immediately proceeded to their work. The task of drawing
up additional and amended forms of prayer they imposed upon
Baxter ; but the preparation of exceptions against the liturgy then
in use, they undertook in common, and for that work they agreed
to meet day by day till it should be finished. In making this ar
rangement for the division of their labor, they were probably influ
enced by the expectation that Baxter would do his part better with
out any coadjutor, and that they would proceed more peaceably
and more rapidly without the assistance of his peculiarly keen and
disputatious mind. " Hereupon," he says, "I departed from them,
and came no more till I had finished my task, which was a fort
night's time. My leisure was too short for tbe doing of it with that
accurateness which a business of that nature doth require, or for
the consulting with men or authors, I could not have time to
make use of any book save the Bible and my concordance, com
paring all with the Assembly's Directory, and the book of com
mon prayer, and Hammond L'Estrange. At the fortnight's end I
brought it to the other commissioners."
The work which was prepared in that fortnight was afterwards
published. It is an entire liturgy, drawn up not with tbe design
that h might be published by law in the place of the old book of
prayer, but only with the desire that the ministers of the church
might be at liberty to use this if they pleased, instead ofthe other.
In reading these devout, scriptural and impressive forms; I cannot
but acknowledge that I have felt with how much more effect the
cause of prescribed forms of public devotion might have been ar
gued at this day, had the "Reformed Liturgy" then been allowed
in the established church of England.
When Baxter, having done his part of the work, came back to
his brethren, he found them only beginning their exceptions. At
his suggestion, they agreed to present to the bishops, with their
other papers, a petition for peace, beseeching them to make
every concession which ihey could without doing violence to their
own consciences, for the sake of promoting (he peace of the church
and the conversion and salvation of souls. The result however
was, as the Presbyterians had feared, and as the bishops bad pre-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 187
determined. Not the least point or particle was yielded by the
dominant party for the sake of accommodation.
The time within which the commission was limited, was nearly
exhausted in this sort of controversy, when, about ten days before
the expiration of their commission, the bishops still insisting that
there should be no alteration of the liturgy but in those points in
which it should be. proved by regular scholastic disputation to be
unlawful, the Presbyterians reluctantly yielded to their demand for
such a disputation. "We were left," says Baxter, "in a very
great strait. If we should enter upon dispute with them, we gave
up the end and hope of our endeavors. If we refused it, we knew
that they would boast that when it came to the setting to, we
would not so much as attempt to prove any thing unlawful in the
liturgy, nor durst dispute it with them.
" Mr. Calamy, with some others of our brethren, would have
had us refuse the motion of disputing as not tending to fulfil the
king's commands. We told the bishops, over and over, that they
could not choose but know that before we could end one argument
in a dispute, our time would be expired ; and that it could not pos
sibly tend to any accommodation ; and that to keep off from per
sonal conference, till within a few days of the expiration of the
commission, and then resolve to do nothing but wrangle out the
time in a dispute, as if we were between jest and earnest in the
schools, was too visibly in the sight of all the world, to defeat the
king's commission, and the expectation of many thousands, who
longed for our unity and peace. But we spoke to the deaf; they
bad other ends, and were other men, and had the art to suit the
means unto their ends. For my part, when I saw that they would
do nothing else, I persuaded our brethren to yield to a disputation
with them, and let them understand that we were far from fearing
it, seeing they would give us no hopes of concord: but, withal,
first to profess to them, that the guilt of disappointing his majesty
and the kingdom, lay not upon us, who desired to obey the king's
commission, but on them. And so we yielded to spend the little
time remaining, in disputing with them, rather than go home and
do nothing, and4eave them to tell the court that we durst not dis-

188 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
pute with them when they so provoked us, nor were able to prove
our accusations of the liturgy."*
The dispute thus undertaken was managed by three on each
side, chosen for the purpose.. Baxter took the lead on one side,
and Dr. Gunning on the other. Bishop Burnet's account of tbe
debate is, that these two disputants " spent several days in logical
arguing, to the diversion of the town, who looked upon them as a
couple of fencers engaged in a dispute that could not be brought to
any end. The Bishops insisted on the laws being still in force, to
which they would admit of no exception unless it was proved that
the matter of them was_ sinful. They charged the Presbyterians
with making a schism for that which they could not prove to be sin
ful. They said there was no reason to gratify such men ; that one
demand granted would draw on many more ; that all authority in
church and state was struck at by the position they had insisted on,
namely, That it was not lawful to impose things indifferent ; since
these seemed to be the only matters in which authority could in
terfere." Thus ended the Savoy conference, the commission by which it
was held expiring July 25, 1661. At the end it was agreed to
report to the king as the result of their conference, " That we were
all agreed on the ends for the churches welfare, unity, and peace,
and his majesty's happiness and contentment, but after all our de
bates were disagreed of the means."
" When this work was over," says Baxter, "the rest of our
brethren met again, and resolved to draw up an account of our en
deavors and present it to his majesty, with our petition for his
promised help yet for those alterations and abatements which we
could not procure of the bishops. They also resolved that first we
should acquaint the Lord Chancellor with it, and consult with him
about it. Which we did ; and as soon as we came to him, ac
cording to my expectation, I found him most offended at me, and
that I had taken off the distaste and blame from all the rest. At
our first entrance be merrily told us that if I were but as fat as Dr.
Manton, we should all do well. I told him, if his lordship could

Narrative, Part II. p. 330.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 189
teach me the art of growing fat, he shoud find me not unwilling to
learn by any good means. He grew more serious, and said that I
was severe and strict like a melancholy man, and made those things
sin which others did not : and I perceived he had been possessed
with displeasure towards me upon that account, that I charged the
church and liturgy with sin, and had not supposed that the worst
was but inexpediency. I told him that I had spoken nothing but
what I thought and had given my reasons for. Aftsr other such
discourse, we craved his favor to procure the king's declaration
yet to be passed into an act, and his advice what we had further to
do. He consented that we should draw up an address to his ma
jesty, rendering him an account of all ; but desired that we would
first show it him, which we promised.
" When we had showed our paper to the lord chancellor, (which
the brethren had desired me to draw up, and had consented to
without any alteration,) he was not pleased with some passages in
it, which he thought too pungent or pressing ; but would not bid us
put them out. So we went with it to the lord chamberlain, (the
earl of Manchester,) and I read it to him also ; and he was earnest
with us to blot out some passages as too vehement, and such as
would not well be borne. I was very loth to leave them out, but
Sir Gilbert Gerard, an ancient godly man, being with him, and of
the same mind, I yielded." "But when we came to present it to
his majesty, the earl of Manchester secretly told tbe rest, that if
Dr. Reynolds, Dr. Bates, and Dr. Manton would deliver it, it
would be the more acceptable, intimating that I was grown unac
ceptable at court. But they would not go without me, and he
professed he desired not my exclusion. When they told me of it I
took my leave of him and was going away ; but he and they came
after me to the stairs and importuned me to return, and I went with
them to take my farewell of this service." " So we desired Dr.
Manton to deliver our petition, and with it the fair copies of all our
papers to the bishops, which were required of us for the king. And
when bishop Reynolds had spoken a few words, Dr. Manton de
livered them to the king, who received them and the petition, but
did not bid us read it at all. At last, in his speeches, something
fell out which Dr. Manton told him that the petition gave a ful]

190 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
account of, if his majesty pleased to give him leave to read it ;
whereupon he had leave to read it out." " And this was the end
of these affairs."*
While this vexatious and fruitless negotiation was going on, Bax
ter had frequent interviews with the lord chancellor, on business of
another nature, of which some account may be given in his own
words. " fn the time of Cromwell's government, Mr. John Elliot, with
some assistant in New-England, having learned the natives' lan
guage, and converted many souls among them, it was found that
the great hindrance of the progress of that work, was the poverty
and barbarousness of the people which made many to live dis
persed like wild beasts in wildernesses, so that having neither
towns, nor food, nor entertainment fit for English bodies, few of
them could be got together to be spoken to, nor could the English
go far or stay long among them. Wherefore to build them houses,
and draw them together, and maintain the preachers that went
among them, and pay school masters to teach their children,
and keep their children at school, etc., Cromwell caused a
collection to be made in England in every parish ; and peo
ple did contribute very largely. And with the money, beside
some left in stock, was bought seven or eight hundred pounds per
annum of lands ; and a corporation was chosen to dispose of the
rents for the furthering of the works among the Indians. This land
was almost all bought for the worth of it of one Colonel Bedding'
field, a papist, an officer in the king's army. When the king
came in, Beddingfield seizeth on the lands again and keepeth
them, and refuseth either to surrender them or to repay the mon
ey ; because all that was done in Cromwell's time being now
judged void, as done without law, that corporation was now null,
and so could have no right to money or lands ; and he pretended
that he sold it under the worth, in expectation ofthe recovery of it
upon the king's return. The president of the corporation was the
Lord Steele, a judge, a worthy man ; the treasurer was Mr. Hen
ry Ashurst, and the members were such sober godly men as were
best affected to New-England's work. Mr. Ashurst being the most
* Narrative, Part II. pp. 364, 365.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 191
exemplary person for eminent sobriety, self-denial, piety, and char
ity, that London could boast of, as far as public observation, and
fame, and his most intimate friends' reports could testify, did make
this, and all other public good which he could do, his business.
He called the old corporation together and desired me to meet
them, where we all agreed that such as had incurred the king's
displeasure by being members of any courts of justice in Cromwell's
days, should quietly recede, and we should try if we could get the
corporation restored, and the rest continued and more fit men add
ed, that the land might be recovered. And because, in our other
business, 1 had ready access to the lord chancellor, they desired
me to solicit him about it. So Mr. Ashurst and I did follow the
business. The lord chancellor at the very first was ready to fur
ther us, approving of the work, as that which could not be for any
faction or evil end, but honorable to the king and land. He told
me that Beddingfield could have no right to that which he had
sold, and that the right was in the king who would readily grant it
to the good use intended ; and that we should have his best as-
asssistance to recover it. And indeed I found him real to us in
this business from first to last; yet did Beddingfield by the friend
ship of the attorney general and some others, so delay the business,
as bringing it to a suit hi chancery, he kept Mr. Ashurst in a
twelve-month's trouble before he could recover the lands, but when
it came to judgment, the lord chancellor spake very much against
him, and granted a decree for the new corporation. For I had pro
cured of him before, tbe king's grant of a new corporation ; and
Mr. Ashurst and myself had the naming of the members. We de
sired Mr. Robert Boyle, a worthy person of learning and a public
spirit, and brother to the earl of Cork, to be president ; and I got
Mr. Ashurst to be treasurer again ; and some of the old members,
and many other godly able citizens made up the rest. Only we
left the nomination of some lords to his majesty, as not presuming
to nominate such ; and the lord chancellor, lord chamberlain, and
six or seven more, were added. But it was Mr. Boyle and Mr.
Ashurst, with the citizens, that did the work ; but especially the
care and trouble of all was on Mr. Ashurst. And thus that busi
ness was happily restored.

192 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" As a fruit of this his majesty's favor, Mr. Elliot sent the king,
first the New Testament, and then the whole Bible, translated and
printed in the Indians' language; — sucli a work and fruit of a plan
tation as was never before presented to a king. And he sent word
that next he would print my ' Call to the unconverted,' and then
' The Practice of Piety.' But Mr. Boyle sent him word that it
would be better taken here, if ' The Practice of Piety' were print
ed before any thing of mine. At the present, the revenue of ihe
land goeth most to the maintaining of the press. Upon the occa
sion of this work, I had letters of thanks from the Court and Gov
ernor in New-England, and from Mr. Norton and Mr. Elliot."*
These letters are given at length in Baxter's narrative; but they
are more important in connection with the history of New-England
than as a part of his personal history. The first is dated " Boston
in New-England, this 7th of August 1661," and is signed " Jo. En
decott, Governor; with the consent and by order of the General
Court." It was written on the presumption that " one of his ma
jesty's chaplains in ordinary," who had been instrumental in reor
ganizing the corporation for the benefit of the Indians, must have
some influence at court; and while it beautifully expresses the
thanks of the Massachusetts colony for what he had already done,
it solicits his continual good offices in their behalf. " What advan
tage," say they, " God hath put into your hands, and reserved your
weak body unto, by access unto persons of honor and trust, or oth
erwise, we hope it will be no grief of heart unto you, if you shall
improve part thereof this way. All that we desire, is liberty to
serve God according to the Scriptures. Liberty unto error and
sin, or to set up another rule besides the Scriptures, we neither
wish to be allowed to ourselves nor would we allow it to others.
If in any thing we should mistake the meaning of the Scriptures,"
" we are willing and desirous to live and learn by any orderly
means that God hath appointed for our learning and instruction ;
and glad shall we be of the opportunity to learn in peace. The
liberty aforesaid we have, by the favor of God, now for many
years enjoyed, and the same advantaged and enconraged by the

*Narrative, Part 11. pp. 29,291.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 193
constitution of our civil government, according to concessions and
privileges granted and established to us by the gracious letters-
patent of king Charles the first, the continuance of which privileges
is our earnest and just desire, for nothing that is unjust, or not hon
est both in the sight of the Lord and also of men, do we seek, or
would allow ourselves in. We hope we shall continue as faithful
subjects to his majesty (according to our duty,) under an elective
government, as under an imposed." Our hope is in God who hath
hitherto helped us, and who is able to keep open for us. a great and
effectual door of liberty to serve bim, and opportunity to advance
his name in this wilderness, although there be many adversaries."
The second of these letters, is from the pen of the celebrated
John Norton of the first church in Boston, and bears date " Sept.
23, 1661." It was written " in behalf of one Mr. William Leet,
Governor of New Haven jurisdiction, whose case," says the writer,
" is this. He being conscious of indiscretion and some neglect,
(not fo say how it came about) in relation to the expediting the
execution of the warrant, according to his duty, sent from his ma
jesty for the apprehending of the two Colonels,* is not without fear
of some displeasure that may follow thereupon ; and indeed hath
almost ever since been a man depressed in his spirit for the neglect
wherewith he chargeth himself therein. His endeavors also since
have been accordingly, and that in full degree ; as, besides his own
testimony, his neighbors attest they see not what he could have
done more. Sir, if any report prejudicial to this gentleman in this
respect, come unto your ear by your prudent enquiry upon this
intimation, or otherwise; so far -as the signification ofthe premises
unto his majesty or other eminent person, may plead for bim or
avert trouble towards him, I assure myself you may report it as a
real truth ; and that, according to your wisdom, you would be help
ful to him so far therein, is both his and my desire. The gentle
man hath pursued both others and myself with letters to this effect,
and yet not satisfied therewith, came to Boston to disburthen his

* It is hardly necessary to say that these- " two colonels," are the regicide
Judges, Whalley and Goffe.
Vol. I. 25

194 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
heart to me ;" " upon issue of which conference no better expedi
ent, under God, presented itself to us than this."
The letter from Elliot, abovementioned, is a valuable-and beau
tiful memorial of the venerated apostle ol ihe Indians; but it was
written at a late date, and the insertion of any extracts here would
too much interrupt our narrative.
The Savoy conference was closed, July 25th, 1661. The last
interview of Baxter and bis brethren with the king, when they pre
sented their last and hopeless petition, must have been soon after.
In bringing down to this time the story of these public transactions,
many incidents of a more private and personal nature have been
omitted. Some of these will now be recited in his own language.
" When I had refused a bishopric, I did it on such reasons as
offended not the lord chancellor ; and, therefore, instead of it, I
presumed to crave his favor to restore me to preach to my people
at Kidderminster again, from whence I had been cast out, when
many hundreds of others were ejected, upon the restoration of all
them that had been sequestered. It was but a vicarage, and the
vicar was a poor, unlearned, ignorant, silly reader, who little under
stood what Christianity, and the articles of his creed, did signify ;
but once a quarter he said something which he called a sermon,
which made him the pity or laughter of the people. This man,
being unable to preach himself, kept always a curate under him to
preach. My people were so dear to me, and I to them, that I
Would have been with them upon the lowest lawful terms. Some
laughed at me for refusing a bishopric, and petitioning to be a read
ing vicar's curate ; but I had little hopes of so good a condition, at
least for any considerable time.
" The ruler of the vicar and all the business there, was Sir
Ralph Clare ; an old man, and an old courtier, who carried it to
wards me, all the time I was there, with great civility and respect,
and sent me a purse of money when I went away, but I refused it.
But his zeal against all who scrupled ceremonies, or who would
not preach for prelacy and conformity, was so much greater than
his respects to me, that he was the principal cause of my removal,
though he has not owned it to this day. I suppose he thought that
when I was far enough off, he could so far rule the town, as to re-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 195
dnce the people to his way. But he little knew, nor others of that
temper, how firm conscientious men are to the matters of their
everlasting interest, and how little men's authority can do against
ihe authority of God, with those that are unfeignedly subject to
him. Openly, he seemed to be for my return at first, that he
might not offend the people ; and the lord chancellor seemed very
forward in it, and all the difficulty was, how to provide some other
place for the old vicar, Mr. Dance, that he might be no loser by
the change. And it was so contrived, that all must seem forward
in it except the vicar. The king himself must be engaged in it ;
the lord chancellor earnestly presseth it; Sir Ralph Clare is willing
and very desirous of it ; and the vicar is willing, if he may but be
recompensed with as good, a place. Either all desire it, or none
desire it. But the hindrance was, that among all the livings and
prebendaries of England, there was none fit for tbe poor vicar. A
prebend he must not have, because he was insufficient, and yet he
is still thought sufficient to be the pastor of near 4,000 souls ! The
lord chancellor, to make the business certain, will engage himself
for a valuable stipend to the vicar, and his own steward must be
commanded to pay it him. What could be desired more? But
the poor vicar was to answer him that this was no security to him ;
his lordship might withhold that stipend at his pleasure, and then
where was his maintenance ? Give him but a legal title to any
thing of equal value, and he would resign. And the patron was
my sure and intimate friend. But no such thing was to be had,
and- so Mr. Dance must keep his place.
" Though I requested not any preferment of them but this, yet
even for this I resolved I would never be importunate. I only
nominated it as tbe favor which I desired, when their ofers in gen
eral invited me to ask more ; and then I told them, that if it were
in any way inconvenient to them, I would not request it of them.
And at the very first I desired, that if they thought it best for the
vicar to keep his place, I was willing to take the lecture, which, by
his bond, was secured to me, and was still my right ; or if that were
denied me, I would be his curate while the king's declaration stood
in force. But none of these could be accepted with men that were
so exceeding willing. In the end, it appeared that two knights of

196 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the county, Sir Ralph Clare and Sir John Packington, who were
very great with Dr. Morley, newly-made bishop of Worcester,
had made him believe that my interest was so great, and I could do
so much with ministers and people in that county, ihat unless I
would bind myself to promote their cause and party, 1 was not fit
to be there. And this bishop, being greatest of any man with the
lord chancellor, must obstruct my return to my ancient flock. At
last, Sir Ralph Clare did freely tell me, that if I would conform to
the orders and ceremonies of the church, and preach conformity to
the people, and labor to set them right, there was no man in Eng
land so fit to be there, for no man could more effectually do it ; but
if I would not, there was no man so unfit for tbe place, for no man
could more hinder it.
" I desired it as the greatest favor of them, that if they intended
not my being there they would plainly teH me so, that I might
trouble them and myself no more. about it; but that was a favor
too great to be expected. I had continual encouragement by
promises till I was almost tired in waiting on them. At last, meet
ing Sir Ralph Clare in the bishop's chamber, I desired him, before
the bishop, to tell me to my face, if he had any thing against
me which might cause all this ado. He told me that I would
give the sacrament to none kneeling, and that of eighteen hundred
communicants, there were not past six hundred that were for me,
and the rest were rather for the vicar. I answered, I was very
glad that these words fell out to be spoken in tbe bishop's hearing.
To the first accusation, I told him, that be himself knew I invited
him to the sacrament, and offered it him kneeling, and under my
hand in writing ; and openly in his hearing in the pulpit, I had
promised and told both him and all the rest, I never had nor ever
would put any man from the sacrament on the account of kneel
ing, but leave every one to the posture which they should choose ;
and that the reason why I never gave it to any kneeling, was be
cause all that came would sit or stand, and those that were for
kneeling only followed him, who would not come unless 1 would
administer it to him and his party on a day by themselves, when
the rest were not present ; and I had no mind to be the author of
such a schism, and make, as it were, two churches of one. But

LIFE OF RICHARD B.VM'KK. 197
especially the consciousness of notorious scandal, which they knew
they must be accountable for, did make many kncelers stay away ;
and all this he could not deny.
"As to tbe second charge, I stated, there was a witness ready to
say as he did ; for the truth is, among good and bad, I knew but
one man in the town against me, which was a stranger newly come,
one Ganderton, an attorney, steward to the Lord of Abergavenny,
a Papist, who was lord of the manor, and this one man was the
prosecutor, and witnessed how many were against my return. I
craved of the bishop that I might send by the next post to know
their minds, and if that were so I would take it for a favor to be
kept from thence. When the people heard this at Kidderminster,
in a day's time they gathered the hands of sixteen hundred of the
eighteen hundred communicants, and the rest were such as were
from home. And within four or five days, I happened to find Sir
Ralph Clare with the bishop again, and showed him the hands of
sixteen hundred communicants, with an offer of more if they might
have time, all very earnest for my return. Sir Ralph was silenced
as to that point ; but he and the bishop appeared so much the more
against my return.
" The letter which the lord chancellor upon his own offer wrote
for me to Sir Ralph Clare, he gave at my request unsealed ; and
so I took a copy of it before I sent it away, as thinking the chief
use would be to keep it and compare it with their dealings. It was
as followeth :
" ' Sir,
" 'I am a little out of countenance, that after the discovery of
such a desire in his majesty, that Mr. Baxter should be settled at
Kidderminster, as he was heretofore, and my promise to you by the
king's direction, that Mr. Dance should very punctually receive a
recompense by way of a rent upon his or your bills charged here
upon my steward, Mr. Baxter bath yet no fruit of this his majesty's
good intention towards him ; so that he hath too much reason to
believe that he is not so frankly dealt with in this particular as he
deserves to be. I do again tell you, that it will be very acceptable
to the king if yqu can persuade Mr. Dance to surrender that charge
to Mr. Baxter ; and in the mean time, and till he is preferred to

198 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
as profitable an employment, whatever agreement you shall make
with him for an annual rent, it shall be paid quarterly upon a bill
from you charged upon my steward, Mr. Clutterbucke ; and for
the exact performance of this, you may securely pawn your full
credit. I do most earnestly entreat you, that you will with all
speed inform me what we may depend upon in this particular, that
we may not keep Mr. Baxter in suspense, who hath deserved very
well from his majesty, and of whom his majesty hath a very good
opinion ; and I hope you will not be the less desirous to comply
with him for the particular recommendation of,
" ' Sir, Your very affectionate servant, " ' Edw. Hyde."
" Can any thing be more serious, cordial, and obliging, than all
this? For a lord chancellor that hath the business ofthe kingdom
upon his hand, and lords attending him, to take up his time so much
and often about so low a person and so small a thing ! And why
should not a man be content without a vicarage or a curateship,
when it is not in the power ofthe king and the lord chancellor to
procure it for him, though they so vehemently desire it? But, O !
thought I, how much better a life do poor men live, who speak as
they think, and do as they profess, and are never put upon such
shifts as these for their present conveniences ! Wonderful ! thought
I, that men who do so much overvalue worldly honor and esteem,
can possibly so much forget futurity, and think only of the present
day, as if they regarded not how their actions be judged of by pos
terity. Notwithstanding all his extraordinary favor, since the day
the king came in, I never received, as his chaplain, or as a preach
er, or on any account, the value of one farthing of any public
maintenance. So that I, and many a hundred more, hr.d not had
a piece of bread but for the voluntary contribution, whilst we
preached, of another sort of people : yea, while I had all this ex
cess of favor, I would have taken it indeed for an excess, as being
far beyond my expectations, if they would but have given me lib
erty to preach the Gospel, without any maintenance, and leave me
to beg my bread."
" A little after this, Sir Ralph Clare and others caused the houses
of the people of the town of Kidderminster to be searched for

LIFE OF RICmilD BAXTER. 199
arms, and if any had a sword it was taken from them. And meet
ing him after with the bishop, I desired him to tell us why his
noighbors were so used, as if he would have made the world be
lieve they were seditious, or rebels, or dangerous persons, that
should be used as enemies to the king. He answered me, that it
was because they would not bring out their arms when they were
commanded, but said they had none ; whereas they had arms on
every occasion to appear with on the behalf of Cromwell. This
great disingenuity of so ancient a gentleman towards his neighbors,
whom he pretended kindness to, made me break forth into some
more than ordinary freedom of reproof; so that I answered him,
we had thought our condition hard, that by strangers, who knew us
not, we should be ordinarily traduced and misrepresented : but
this was most sad and marvellous, that a gentleman so civil, should,
before the bishop, speak such words against a corporation, which
he knew I was able to confute, and were so contrary to truth. I
asked him whether he did not know that I publicly and privately
spake against tbe usurpers, and declared them to be rebels; and
whether he took not the people to be of my mind ; and whether I
and they had not hazarded our liberty by refusing the engagement
against the king and House of Lords, when he and others of his
mind had taken- it. He confessed that I had been against Crom
well ; but they had always, on every occasion, appeared in arms
for him. I told him that he struck me with admiration, that it
should be possible for him to live in the town, and yet believe what
he said to be true, or yet to speak it in our hearing if he knew it to
be untrue. And I professed that having lived there sixteen years
since the wars, I never knew that they once appeared in arms for
Cromwell, or any usurpers ; and challenged him, upon his word,
to name one time. I could not get him to name any time, till I had
urged him to the utmost; and then he instanced in the time when
the Scots army fled from Worcester. I challenged him to name
one man of them that was at Worcester fight, or bare arms there,
or at any time for the usurpers : and when he could name none, I
told him that all that was clone to my knowledge in sixteen years,
of that kind was but this, that when the Scots fled from Worcester,
as all tbe country sought in covetousness to catch some of them for

-00 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
the sake of their horses, so two idle rogues of Kidderminster, that
never communicated with me any more than he did, had drawn two
or three neighbors with them in tbe night, as the Scots fled, to
catch their horses. And I never heard of three that they caught;
and I appealed to the bishop and his conscience, whether he —
that being urged, could name no more but this— did ingenuously
accuse the corporation, magistrates, and people, to have appeared
on all occasions in arms for Cromwell ? And when they had no
more to say, I told them by this we saw what measures to expect
from strangers Df his mind, when he that is our neighbor, and no
ted for eminent civility, never sticketh to speak such things even of
a people among whom he hath still lived.
" At the same lime, about twenty or two-and-twenty furious
fanatics, called fifth-monarchy men, one Venner, a wine-cooper, and
his church that he preached unto, being transported with enthusias
tic pride, did rise up in arms, and fought in the streets like mad
men, against all that stood in their way, till there were some killed
and the rest taken, judged, and executed. I wrote a letter at this
time to my mother-in-law, containing nothing but our usual matter,
even encouragements to her in her age and weakness, fetched from
the nearness of her rest, together with the report of this news, and
some sharp and vehement words against the rebels. By means of
Sir John Packington, or his soldiers, the post was searched, and
my letter intercepted, opened and revised, and by Sir John sent up
to London to tbe bishop, and the lord chancellor. It was a wonr
der, that having read it, they were not ashamed to send it up ; but
joyful would they have been, could they have found a word in it
which could possibly have been distorted to an evil sense, that mal
ice might have had its prey. I went to the lord chancellor and
complained of this usage, and that I had not the common liberty of
a subject to converse by letters with my own family. He disown
ed it, and blamed men's rashness, but excused it from the distem
pers of the times ; yet-he and the bishops confessed they had seen
the letter, and that there was nothing in it but what was good and
pious. Two days after, came the lord Windsor, lord lieutenant of
the county, and governor of Jamaica, with Sir Charles Littleton,
the king's cup-bearer, to bring me my letter again to my lodgings,

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 201
and lord Windsor told me the lord chancellor appointed him to do
it. And after some expression of my sense of the abuse, I thanked
him for his great civility and favor. But I saw how far that sort of
men were to be trusted."*
While these things were done, Baxter preached in various
churches of the metropolis as he had opportunity. About one
year after his leaving Kidderminster, he accepted a lectureship at
St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street, where Dr. Bates was pastor,
and preached there statedly in the afternoon of every Lord's day,
receiving some small compensation from the people. " Seeing
which way things were going, he, for his better security, applied to
Bishop Sheldon, for his license to preach in his diocese. Some
were offended at his taking this step ; but he went to him as the
king's officer. The bishop received him with abundance of re
spect, but offered him the book to subscribe in. He pleaded the
king's declaration as exempting from a necessity of subscribing.
The bishop bid him therefore write what he would. Whereupon,
he subscribed a promise in Latin, not to preach against the doctrine
of the church or the ceremonies in his diocese as long as he used
his license. Upon which he freely gave him his license, and would
let his secretary take no money of him. And yet he could scarce
preach a sermon but he was informed from some quarter or other,
that he preached sedition, and reflected on the government. "f He
says himself, " I scarce think that I ever preached a sermon with
out a spy to give them bis report of it." Sometimes he preached
explicitly " against faction, schism, sedition and rebellion, and those
sermons also," he says, " were reported to be factious and sedi
tious." Several discourses against which such charges were pre
ferred, he felt himself constrained to publish in self-defence. The
book thus produced is entitled " The Vain Religion of the formal
hypocrite." Speaking of his ministry at St. Dunstan's, he says, " The con
gregation being crowded, was that which provoked envy to accuse
me : and one day the crowd did drive me from my place. It fell

- Narrative, Part II. pp. 300, 301. t Calamy's Abridgement, pp. 576, 577.
Vol. I. 26

202 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
out that at Dunstan's church, in the midst of sermon, a little lime and
dust, and perhaps a piece of a brick or two, fell down in the steeple
or belfrey near the boys ; which put the whole congregation into
sudden melancholy, so that they thought the steeple and church
were falling ; which put them all into so confused a haste to get
away, that indeed the noise of their feet in the galleries sounded
like the falling of the stones. The people crowded out of doors :
the women left some of them a scarf, and some a shoe behind them,
and some in the galleries cast themselves down upon those below,
because they could not get down the stairs. I sat still down in the
pulpit, seeing and pitying their vain distemper, and as soon as I
could be heard, I entreated their silence, and went on. The peo
ple were no sooner quieted and got in again, and the auditory com
posed, but some that stood upon a wainscot-bench, near the«com-
munion table, brake the bench with their weight, so that the'noise
renewed the fear again, and they were worse disordered than be
fore. One old woman was heard at the church door asking for
giveness of God for not taking the first warning, and promising, if
God would deliver her this once, she would take heed of coming
hither again. When they were again quieted, I went on ; but the
church having before an ill name as very old, rotten, and danger
ous, this put the parish upon a resolution to pull down all the roof,
and build it better, which they have done with so great reparation
of the walls and steeple, that it is now like a new church and much
more commodious for the hearers."*
Dr. Bates, in his sermon on occasion of Baxter's funeral, de
scribes this incident, as " an instance of his firm faith in ihe divine
providence, and his fortitude." " Mr. Baxter, without visible dis
turbance, sat down in the pulpit. After the hurry was over, he re
sumed his discourse, and said, to compose their minds, ' We are in
the service of God to prepare ourselves, that we may be fearless at
the great noise of the dissolving world, when the heavens shall pass
away, and the elements melt in fervent heat ; the earth also and
the works therein shall be burned up.' "f

* Narrative, Pait II. pp. 301, 302. t Bates' Works, Vol. IV.-p. 329

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 203
"Upon this reparation of Dunstan's church, I preached out my
quarter at Bride's church, in the other end of Fleet Street ; where
the common prayer being used by the curate before sermon, I oc
casioned abundance to be at common prayer, who before avoided
it : and yet my accusations still continued. On the week days,
Mr. Ashurst, with about twenty more citizens, desired me to preach
a lecture in Milk Street ; for which they allowed me forty pounds
per annum, which I continued near a year, till we were all silenced.
At the same time I preached once every Lord's day at Blacklriars,
where Mr. Gibbons, a judicious man, was minister. In Milk Street,
I took money, because it came not from the parishioners, but from
strangers, and so was no wrong to the minister, Mr. Vincent, a very
holy, blameless man. But at Blackfriars I never took a penny,
because it was the parishioners who called me, who would else be
less able and ready to help their worthy pastor, who went to God
by a consumption, a little after he was silenced and put out. At
these two churches I ended the course of my public ministry, un
less God cause an undeserved resurrection."*
" Shortly after our disputation at the Savoy, I went to Rick-
mersworth, in Hertfordshire, and preached there but once, from
Matt. xxii. 12, ' And he was speechless.' I spake not a word
that was any nearer kin to sedition, or that had any greater tenden
cy to provoke them, than by showing that wicked men, and the
refusers of grace, however they may have now many things to
say to excuse their sin, will, at last, be speechless, and dare not
stand to their wickedness before God. Yet did the bishop of
Worcester tell me, when he silenced me, that the bishop of Lon
don had showed him letters from one of the hearers, assuring him,
that I preached seditiously. So little security was any man's inno
cency, who displeased the bishops, to his reputation with that party,
if he had but one auditor that desired to get favor by accusing
him. " Soon after my return to London, I went into Worcestershire, to
try whether it were possible to have any honest terms from the
reading vicar there, that I might preach to my former flock ; but

"Narrative, Part II. pp. 301, 302.

204 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
when I had preached twice or thrice, he denied me liberty to preach
any more. I offered to take my lecture, which he was bound to
allow me, under a bond of £500 ; but he refused it. I next of
fered to be his curate, and he refused it. I next offered to preach
for nothing, and he refused it : and, lastly, I desired leave but once
to administer the sacrament to the people, and preach my farewell
sermon to them ;. but he would not consent. At last, I understood
that he was directed by his superiors to do what he did : but Mr.
Baldwin, an able preacher, whom I left there, was yet permitted.
"At that time, my aged father lying in great pain ofthe stone
and stranguary, I went to visit bim, twenty miles further : and
while I was there, Mr. Baldwin came to me, and told me that he
also was forbidden to preach. We returned both to Kiddermin
ster, and having a lecture at Sheffnal in the way, I preached there,
and staid not to hear the evening sermon, because I would make
haste to the bishop. It fell out that my turn at another lecture
was on the same day with that at Sheffnal, viz., at Cleobury, in
Shropshire ; and many were met in expectation to hear me. But
a company of soldiers were there, as the country thought, to have
apprehended me ; who shut the doors against the minister that
would have preached in my stead, bringing a command to the
churchwarden to hinder any one that had not a license from the
bishop ; so that the poor people who had come from far, were fain
to go home with grieved hearts.
"The next day it was confidently reported, that a certain knight
offered the bishop his troop to apprehend me, if I offered to preach :
and the people dissuaded me from going to the bishop, supposing
my liberty in danger. I went that morning, with Mr. Baldwin,
and in the hearing of him and Dr. Warmestry, then dean of Wor
cester, I reminded the bishop of his promise to grant me his li
cense, &c, but he refused me liberty to preach in his diocese ;
though I offered to preach only on the Creed, the Lord's prayer,
and the Ten Commandments, catechistical principles, and only to
such as had no preaching."
"Bishop Morley told me when he silenced me, that he would
take care that my people should be no losers, but should be taught
as well as they were by me. When I was gone, he got awhile a

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 205
few scandalous men, with some that were more civil, to keep up
the lecture, till the paucity of their auditors gave them a pretense
to put it down. He came himself one day and preached to them
a long invective against them and me as Presbyterians, and I know
not what ; so that the people wondered that ever a man would
venture to come up into a pulpit and speak so confidently to a peo
ple that he knew not, the things which they commonly knew to be
untrue. And this sermon was so far from winning any of them to
the estimation of iheir new bishop, or curing that which he called
the admiration of my person, (which was his great endeavor,) that
they were much confirmed in their former judgments. But still
the bishop looked at Kidderminster as a factious, schismatical,
Presbyterian people, that must be cured of their overvaluing of me,
and then they would be cured of all the rest. Whereas if he had
lived with them the twentieth part so long as I had done, he would
have known that they were neither Presbyterians, nor factious, nor
schismatical, nor seditious; but a people that quietly followed their
hard labor, and learned the holy Scriptures, and lived a holy,
blameless life, in humility and peace with all men, and never had
any sect or separated party among them, but abhorred all faction
and sidings in religion, and lived in love and Christian unity.
" Yet when the bishop was gone, the dean came and preached
about three hours to cure them of the admiration of my person ;
and a month after came again and preached over the same, per
suading the people that they were Presbyterians, and schismatical,
and were led to it by their overvaluing of me. The people ad
mired at the temerity of these men, and really thought that they
were scarce well in their wits, who would go on to speak things so
far from truth, of men whom they never knew, and that to their own
faces." " This dealing, instead of winning them to the preacher,
drove them from the lecture, and then, as I said, they accused tbe
people of deserting it, and put it down.
" For this ordinary preacher, they set up one, of the best parts
they could get, far from what his patrons spake him to be, who was
quickly weary and went away. And next they set up a poor dry
man, that had been a schoolmaster near us, and after a little time
he died. And since they have taken another course, and set up a

206 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
young man, the best they can get, who taketh the contrary way to
the first, and over applaudeth me in the pulpit, and speaketh well
of them, and useth them kindly. And they are glad of one that
hath some charity. And thus the bishop hath used that flock, who
say that till then they never knew so well what a bishop was, nor
were before so guilty of that dislike of Episcopacy of which they
were so frequently and vehemently accused. I hear not of one
person among them, who is won to the love of prelacy or formality
since my removal.
" Having parted with my dear flock, I need not say with mutual
sense and tears, I left Mr. Baldwin to live privately among them and
oversee them in my stead, and visit them from house to honse ; ad
vising them, notwithstanding all the injuries they had received, and
all the failings ofthe ministers that preached to them, and the defects
of the present way of worship, that they should keep to the public as
semblies and make use of such helps as might be had in public, to
gether with their private helps. Only in three cases they ought to
absent themselves. 1 . When the minister was one that was utter
ly insufficient, as not being able to teach them the articles of the
faith and essentials of true religion ; such as, alas ! they had known
to their sorrow. 2. When the minister preached any heresy, or
doctrine which was directly contrary to any article of the faith, or
necessary part of godliness. 3. When in the application he set
himself against the ends of his office, to make a holy life seem
odious, to keep men from it, and to promote the interest of Satan.
Yet not to take every bitter reflection upon themselves or others,
occasioned by difference of opinion or interest, to be a sufficient
cause to say that the minister preacheth against godliness, or to
withdraw themselves."*
Soon after this, Baxter's ministry in the church of England was
terminated by the celebrated " act of uniformity." The greatest
diligence had been employed by the court party to secure a par
liament suited to their purposes. Sham plots, and flying rumors
of conspiracies were got up, to throw the nation into a panic and to
prepare the public mind for the most violent proceedings against

Narrative, Part II. pp. 374, 376.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. i207
those whom the lord chancellor in the house of commons de
nounced and vilified as "seditious preachers." Of some of this
management, we find in Baxter's Narrative the following naked
statement. " In November (1661) many worthy ministers and others were
imprisoned in many counties; and among others, divers of my old
neighbors in Worcestershire. And that you may see what crimes
were the occasion, I will tell you the story of it. One Mr. Am
brose Sparry, a sober, learned minister that had never owned the
parliament's cause or wars, and was in his judgment for moderate
episcopacy, had a wicked neighbor whom he reproved for adultery,
who bearing him a grudge, thought he had found a time to show
it. He, or his confederates for him, framed a letter as from, I
know not whom, directed to Mr. Sparry, ' That he and Captain
Yarrington should be ready with money and arms at the time ap
pointed, and that they should acquaint Mr. Oasland and Mr. Bax
ter with it.' This letter he pretended that a man left behind him
under a hedge, who sat down and pulled out many letters, and put
them all up again save this and went his ways — he knew not what
he was or whither he went. This letter he bringeth to Sir John
Packington, the man that hotly followed such work, who sent Mr.
Sparry, Mr. Oasland and Captain Yarrington to prison." "Who
that Mr. Baxter was that the letter named, they could not resolve,
there being another ofthe name nearer, and I being in London.
But the men, especially Mr. Sparry, lay long in prison ; and when
the forgery and injury was detected, he had much ado to get out.
Mr. Henry Jackson also, our physician at Kidderminster, and many
of my neighbors, were imprisoned, and were never told for what
to ihis day." "Though no one accused me of any thing, nor
spake a word to me of it (seeing they knew I had long been near
a hundred miles off,) yet did they defame me all over the land, as
guilty of a plot ; and when men were taken up and sent to prison
in other counties, it was said to be for ' Baxter's plot ;' — so easy
was it, and so necessary a thing it seemed then, to cast such filth
upon my name."*
* Narrative, Part II p. 383. The following statement, differing in some
particulars from that given above, is from a note in Calamy's Abridge-

208

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

These sham plots having had the desired effect ; and the Con
vocation having revised the prayer book, and having made it more

ment, Chap. viii. pp. 177, 180. " Captain Yarrington (a man of an estab
lished reputation) did in 1631 publish a full discovery ofthe first Presby
terian sham plot. In which discovery he declares he related nothing but
what he could prove by letters, and many living witnesses; and his ac
count was never publicly contradicted. He says, that many, both ofthe
clergy and laity, disliking the king's declaration concerning ecclesiastical
affairs, resolved to run things to the utmost height : And that some of tho
leading churchmen were heard to say, They would have an act so framed
as would reach every Puritan in the kingdom : And that if they thought
any of them would so stretch their consciences, as to be comprehended by
it, they would insert yet other conditions and subscriptions, so as that they
should have no benefit by it. To pave the way for it, they contrive a
Presbyterian plot, which was laid in about thirty-six several counties.
As to Worcestershire, he gives a like account with Mr. Baxter, only with
the addition of many particulars. He says, several letters were drawn
up and delivered by Sir John P  to one Rich. N  his neighbor, to
convey them to one Cole of Martley, who with one Churn, brings them
again to Sir John P  from whom they came, making affidavit, That he
found the packet left by a Scotch pedlar under a hedge. In this packet,
when it was opened, there were found several letters, discovering a con
spiracy to raise a rebellion. There were several letters to the captain;
one from Mr. Baxter of Kidderminster, intimating, that he bad provided a
considerable body of men well armed, which should be ready against the
time appointed. And another from Mr. Sparry, intimating, He had or
dered him 500Z. lodged in a friend's hand, &c. Upon this, the militia of
the county was raised immediately, and the city of Worcester filled with
them the very night after the packet was opened. The next morning the
captain was seized by a troop of horse, and brought prisoner to Worcester ;
and so also were Mr. Sparry, Mr. Oasland, Mr. Moor, and Mr. Brian,
ministers, together with some scores of others. They were all kept close
prisoners for ten days ; by which time the trained bands being weary, most
of them were discharged paying their fees. But the captain, Mr.
Sparry and the two Oaslands, were still kept close prisoners in the George
Inn, the dignitaries of the cathedral taking care, when the trained bands
retired, to raise sixty foot soldiers (who had double pay, and were called
the clergy band) to secure these criminals. And besides the sentinels
upon each ofthe prisoners, they had a court of guard at the town hall of
Worcester." " At length Mrs. Yarrington discovering the sham intrigue,
by the acknowledgment which the person employed by Sir J. P. to carry

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 209
grievous to men of puritan principles than before, by the addition
of more festivals to the Calendar and more lessons out of the apoc-

the packet to Cole of Martley, made to his brother, she gives notice of it
to her husband in his confinement, who immediately enters actions against
those that imprisoned him. Being at last discharged, he comes up to
London, aud prevailed with the lord of Bristol to acquaint the king, how
his ministers imposed upon him by such sham plots-, &.C. Upon this the
deputy-lieutenants were' ordered to appear at the council board. They
endeavored to clear themselves, and desired to consult those in the coun
try. But afterwards Sir J. W. (who was one of them) arrests the captain
for high treason. He was again released upon the earl of Bristol's pro
curing the king's privy seal : And going down into the country he prose
cutes his prosecutors. But within six months, persons were suborned to
swear against, him, That he had spoken treasonable words against the king
and government.' For this he was tried at the assizes at Worcester be
fore Judge Twisden, and upon a full hearing was presently acquitted by
the Jury. And one of the witnesses (whom he names) afterwards con
fessed he had 5/. given him for being an evidence.
" This feigned plot was on foot in Oxfordshire at the same time." " There
was something of a like sham plot in Leicestershire and Yorkshire. See
Conformists 4th Plea for the Nonconf. pp. 30, 40. The great design
aimed at by these methods, was to possess the parliament, that it was ab
solutely necessary to make a severe act against such a restless sort of
men, who not contented with the king's pardon, were always plotting to
disturb the government. Aud they reached their end. These plots and
stirs in several counties ofthe land, were in October and November 1661.
And on the 20th of November the king appearing in the house after an ad
journment, made a speech wherein are these words. — ' I am sorry to find
that the general temper and affections ofthe nation are not so well com
posed as I hoped -they would have been, after so signal blessings of God
Almighty upon us all, and after so great indulgence and condescensions
from me towards all interests ; there are many wicked instruments still as
active as ever, who labor night and day to disturb the public peace, and
to make people jealous of each other: It may be worthy your care and
vigilance to provide proper remedies for diseases of that kind: And if you
find new diseases, you must find new remedies, &c.' When the house of
commons after this speech came to their debates, up stands J. P. one of
the knights for Worcestershire, and with open mouth informs them of a
dangerous Presbyterian plot on foot ; and that many of the chief conspir
ators were now in prison at Worcester. The like information was given
by some members who served for Oxfordshire, Herefordshire, Stafford-
Vol. I. 27

210 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
rypha; the bill for an act of uniformity was introduced int :> the
house of commons, where after several debates it passed by a ma
jority of only six votes. The lords, after proposing several amend
ments which were the subject of a conference between the two
houses, at last on the 8th of May 1662 concurred with the com
mons ; and ten days afterwards the bill received the royal assent,
and became one of the laws of the land.
The terms of uniformity now imposed on all the ministers were :
1. Such as had not been ordained by a bishop must be reordained.
2. They must all declare their " unfeigned assent and consent to
all and every thing prescribed and contained in the book of com
mon prayer." 3. They must swear obedience to their bishops
and other ecclesiastical superiors. 4. They must most solemnly
abjure and condemn the solemn league and covenant, as an oath
unlawful in itself and unlawfully imposed. 5. They must profess
in its broadest extent the doctrine of passive obedience, declaring
the unlawfulness «f taking arms against the king or those commis
sioned by him, upon any pretence whatever.
" When the Act of Uniformity was passed," says Baxter,
" it gave no longer time than till Bartholomew's day, Aug
ust 24, 1662, and then they must be all cast out. This fatal
day called to remembrance the French massacre, when on the
same day thirty or forty thousand Protestants perished by Roman
religious zeal and charity. I had no place of my own ; but I
preached twice a week, by request, in other men's congregations,
at Milk Street and Blackfriars. The last sermon that I preached
in public was on May 25. The reasons why I gave over sooner than
most others were, because lawyers did interpret a doubtful clause
in the act, as ending the liberty of lecturers at that time; because
I would let authority soon know that I intended to obey in all that

shire, and other places. Nay this was the general cry; this all the
pamphlets printed at that time ran upon. And it was in this very sessions
that this bill of uniformity passed the house. And that the general cry
occasioned by these sham plots much promoted it, will easily be judged by
any one, that will but be at the pains to peruse Yarrington's Narrative, to
which the reader is referred for satisfaction."

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 211
was lawful; because I would let all ministers in England under
stand in time, whether I intended to conform or not : for, had I
staid to the last day, some would have conformed the sooner, from
a supposition that I intended it. These, w ith other reasons, moved
me to cease three months before Bartholomew's day, which many
censured for awhile, but, afterwards, better saw the reasons of it."*
By this measure about two thousand ministers, most of them
well qualified for their office and devoted and successful in their
work, were at once cast out of their places and forbidden to preach
the gospel. When the popish clergy were ejected at the reforma
tion, some provision was made for their relief; and so it was with
the ministers deprived by tbe Long Parliament and afterwards by
Cromwell : at both those periods, one-fifth of the income of the
living was uniformly reserved for the benefit of the person ejected.
But in this case, these two thousand ministers were turned out at
once upon the world without the least means of subsistence, and
forbidden even to keep " any public or private school," or to " in
struct youth in any private family." " And now," says Baxter,
" came in the great inundation of calamities, which in many
streams, overwhelmed thousands of godly Christians together with
their pastors. As for example ; 1. Hundreds of able ministers
with their wives and children had neither house nor bread ; for many
of them had not past thirty or forty pounds per annum apiece, and
most but sixty or eighty pounds per annum, and few had any con
siderable estates of their own. 2. The people's poverty was so
great, that they were not able much to relieve their ministers. 3.
The jealousy ofthe state and the malice of their enemies were so
great, that people that were willing durst not be known to give to
their ejected pastors, lest it should be said that they maintained
schism, or were making collections for some plot or insurrection.
4. The hearts of the people were much grieved for the loss of their
pastors. 5. Many places had such set over them in their steads,
as they could not with conscience or comfort commit the conduct
of their souls to : and they were forced to own all these, Sic." " by

* Narrative, Part II. p. 3S.

212 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
receiving the sacrament in the several parishes whether they would
or not. 6. Those that did not this were to be excommunicated,
and then to have a writ sued out against them de excommunicato
capiendo, to lay them in the jail, and seize on their estates." He
lengthens out this catalogue of evils by enumerating the many di
visions among ministers and among Christians which the great, con
troversy of the time occasioned, the murmuring and complaining of
the people against tbe government ; and he concludes with the
remark that " by all these sins, these murmurings, and these viola
tions of the interest of the church and the cause of Christ, the
land was prepared for that further inundation of calamities, by war
and plague, and scarcity, which hath since brought it near to deso
lation." Till this time Baxter had lived unmarried.' But soon after the
Bartholomew ejection, when in his forty-seventh year, he married
a lady of good family much younger than himself, whose affection
and assiduity did much to alleviate the distresses that were now to
follow him. Her name was Margaret Charlton. She had been
one of his flock during some part of his ministry at Kidderminster,
and under his preaching became eminently pious. The attach
ment between them seems to have commenced some time before,
though when they were married she was not more than twenty-
three years of age. Nearly a year before the event actually took
place, he says, " About this time, it was famed at the court that I
was married, which went as the matter of a most heinous crime,
which I never heard charged by them on any man but me. Bish
op Morley divulged it with all the odium he could possibly put
upon it ;" — " and it every where rung about, partly as a wonder and
partly as a crime." " And 1 think the king's marriage was scarce
more talked of than mine."*
He was at last married, Sept. 10, 1662. "She consented,"
he says, " to these conditions of our marriage : First, that I should
have nothing that before our marriage was hers; that I who want
ed no earthly supplies might not seem to marry her for covetous-
ness. Secondly, that she would so alter her affairs that I might be
* Narrative, Part 11. p. 334.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 213
entangled in no lawsuits. Thirdly, that she would expect none of
my time which my ministerial work should require."*
The Act of Uniformity had hardly taken effect when the idea
was thrown out by the court that some indulgence might yet be
granted to nonconformists, by the exertion of the royal preroga
tive. The king hoped in this way to secure some favor for his
catholic friends. He knew that it would be impossible to set up
a toleration of the Romish worship in the existing state of public
feeling ; and there can be no reasonable doubt that he and many
about the court, hoped that the oppression of the protestant non
conformists would create a necessity for a general toleration, un
der which he might show what favor he pleased to the catholics.
Accordingly "on the 26th of December, 1662, the king sent
forth a declaration expressing his purpose to grant some indulgence
or liberty in religion not excluding the Papists, many of whom had
deserved so well of him." But the great body of nonconformists,
unwilling to be even indirectly instrumental in promoting such a
design, stood aloof from the court. It was intimated to some of
them, that it would be acceptable if they would own this declara
tion by returning thanks for the offered indulgence. The design
was, that they should be the means of securing this advantage- for
the Papists; and that they should stand between the king and the
odium of such a measure. The Presbyterians, persuaded of the
unlawfulness of tolerating any "intolerable" error, like the errors
of popery, could not give thanks for an indulgence on such terms.
The Independents, however" having clearer views ofthe great doc
trine of religious liberty, were hindered by no conscientious scru
ples ; and were always ready to accept and to ask for a toleration
on the broadest basis. But the king's declaration, like every meas
ure of his which looked towards the toleration of popery, was
strongly resisted by the parliament.
It was soon discovered that tbe laws on the subject of religious
uniformity, with all their pains and penalties, were by no means to
be a dead letter. Mr. Calamy happening to be present at the

Bruviate ofthe life of Mrs. MnigAV-^t Baxter, quoted by Orme.

214

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

church where he had formerly been pastor, on an occasion when
the preacher failed, and the congregation was about to disperse,
was persuaded to preach under the impression that there was no
provision of the law applicable to such a case ; but was the next
week sent to Newgate prison. After a few days imprisonment, he
was released ; but his release displeased the Commons who were
beginning to watch against any exercise of that dispensing power,
which they knew the king was disposed to set up for the benefit of
bis catholic friends. The imprisonment of ministers for preaching
either publicly or privately,' was a common thing. "As we were
forbidden to preach," says Baxter, "so we were vigilantly watched
in private, that we might not exhort one another, or pray together;
and, as I foretold them oft, how they would use us when they had
silenced us, every meeting for prayer was called a dangerous
meeting for sedition, or a conventicle at least. I will now give but
one instance of their kindness to myself. One Mr. Beale, in Hat
ton Garden, having a son, his only child, and very towardly and
hopeful, long sick of a dangerous fever, who had been brought so
low that the physicians thought he would die, desired a few friends,
of whom I was one, to meet at his house to pray for him. And
because it pleased God to hear our prayers, and that very night to
restore him ; his mother shortly after falling siek of a fever, we
were desired to meet to pray for her recovery, the last day when
she was near to death, Among those who were to be there, it fell
out that Dr. Bates and I did fail them, and could not come; but it
was known at Westminster, that we were appointed to be there,
whereupon two justices of the peace were procured from the dis
tant parts of the town, one from Westminster and one from Clerk-
enwell, to come with the parliament's serjeant at arms to appre
hend us. They came in the evening, when part of the company
were gone. There were then only a few of their kindred, beside
two or three ministers to pray. They came upon them into the
room where the gentlewoman lay ready to die, drew the curtains,
and took some of their names; but, missing of their prey, returned
disappointed. What a joy would it have been to them that re
proached us as Presbyterian, seditious schismatics, to have found

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 21 5
but such an occasion as praying with a dying woman, to have laid
us up in prison !"*
In the beginning of the following year, the talk of liberty to the
silenced ministers began to be revived ; and it was much debated
among them and their friends whether toleration as dissenters, or
comprehension as a part of the establishment, were the more de
sirable scheme. But " instead of indulgence and comprehension,"
says Baxter, "on the last day of June, 1663, the bill against pri
vate meetings for religious exercises passed the House of Com
mons, and shortly after was made a law. The sum of it was, ' that
every person above sixteen years old, who is present at any meet
ing under color or pretence of any exercise of religion, in other
manner than is allowed by the liturgy or practice of the church of
England, where there are five persons more than that household,
shall, for the first offense, by a justice of peace be recorded, and
sent to jail three months, till he pay five pounds ; and, for the
second offense, six months, till he pay ten pounds; and the third
time, being convicted by a jury, shall be banished to some of the
American plantations, excepting New-England or Virginia.' The
calamity of the act, beside the main matter, was, 1 . That it was
made so ambiguous, that no man that ever I met with could tell
what was a violation of it, and what not ; not knowing what was
allowed by the liturgy or practice in the church of England in
families, because the liturgy meddleth not with families; and
among the diversity of family practice, no man knoweth what to
call the practice of the church. 2. Because so much power was
given to the justices of the peace to record a man an offender
without a jury, and if he did it causelessly, we were without any
remedy, seing he was made a judge."
" And now came in the people's trial, as well as the ministers'.
While the danger and sufferings lay on the ministers alone, the
people were very courageous, and exhorted them to stand it out
and preach till they went to prison. But when it came to be their
own case, they were as venturous till they were once surprised
and imprisoned; but then their judgments were much altered, and
* Narrative, Part II. pp. 431, 432.

216 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
they that censured ministers before as cowardly, because they
preached not publicly, whatever followed, did now think that it
was better to preach often in secret to a" few, than but once or
twice in public to many ; and that secrecy was no sin, when it
tended to the furtherance of the work of the Gospel, and to
the church's good. Especially the rich were as cautious as the
ministers. But yet their meetings were so ordinary, and so well
known, that it greatly tended to the jailers' commodity.
" It was a great strait that tbe people were in, especially who
dwelt near any busy officer, or malicious enenry. Many durst not
pray in their families, if above four persons came in to dine with
them." " Some thought they might venture if they withdrew into
another room, and left the strangers by themselves : but others said,
it is all one if they be in the same house, though out of hearing,
when it cometh to tbe judgment of the justices. In London, where
the houses are contiguous, some thought if they were in several
houses and heard one another through the wall or a window, it
would avoid the law: but others said, it is all in vain whilst the
justice is judge whether it was a meeting or no. Gseat lawyers
said, If you come on a visit or business, though you be present at
prayer or sermon, it is no breach of the law, because you met not
on pretence of a religious exercise : but those that tried them said,
such words are but wind, when the justices come to judge yon.
" And here the Quakers did greatly relieve the sober people for
a time ; for they were so resolute, and so gloried in their constan
cy and sufferings, that they assembled openly at the Bull and
Mouth, near Aldersgate, and were dragged away daily to tbe com
mon jail ; and yet desisted not, but the rest came the next day,
nevertheless : so that the jail at Newgate was filled with them.
Abundance of them died in prison, and yet they coTitinued their
assemblies still, They would sometimes meet only to sit still in
silence, when, as they said, the Spirit did not speak : and it was a
great question, whether this silence was a religious exercise not
allowed by the liturgy, &c."*

* Narrative, Part II. pp. 435, 436.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 217
Notwithstanding all this persecution, many of the non conform
ists, including such men as Baxter and Bates and Calamy, insisted
on the propriety of occasional communion with the church of Eng
land by attending on the public worship al the parish churches, and
by receiving the Lord's supper at the hands of the more serious
and exemplary among the established clergy. This occasioned an
unhappy division among those who at such a time needed to act
in concert ; and it limited the influence of these men with their suf
fering exasperated brethren.
The opportunity of doing good by public preaching being at an
end, Baxter looked about for some retirement where he might
pursue his studies, and especially his writings, with better health
and more tranquility than he could hope to enjoy in the city. He
removed to Acton, six miles from London, July 14, 1663 ; —
" where," he says, " I followed my studies privately, in quiet
ness, and went every Lord's-day to the public assembly, when
there was any preaching or catechising, and spent the rest of the
day with my family, and a few poor neighbors that came in ; spend
ing now and then a day in London. The next year, 1664, I had
the company of divers godly, faithful friends that tabled with me
in summer, with whom I solaced myself with much content."
" March 26, 1665, being the Lord's-day, as I was preaching
in a private house, where we received the Lord's supper, a bullet
came in at the window among us, passed by me, and narrowly es
caped the head of a sister-in-law of mine that was there, but hurt
none of us. We could never discover whence it came."
Having followed him to this retirement, we may here continue
the enumeration of his publications to the close of the year 1665,
with which date he concludes the second part of the Narrative of
his life. Thirty-eight separate works of his, it will be recollected,
were published before the restoration.*
39. " A Sermon of Repentance, preached before the Honora
ble House of Commons, Sic. at their late solemn fast for the settle
ment of these nations." — 4to. published in 1660.
40. " Right Rejoicing, fee. A Sermon preached at St. Paul's

* See pp. 145, 164.
Vol. I. 28

21S LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, and the several Companies
ofthe city of London, on May 10th, 1660, appointed by both
houses of Parliament to be a day of solemn thanksgiving, &c." 4to.
published in 1660. The occasions of these two sermons have al
ready been described.*
41. "The. Life of Faith; as it is the evidence of things not
seen ; a sermon preached before the king, July 22, 1660." 4to.
published in 16G0.f
42. " The successive visibility of the Church," 12mo. publish-
lished in 1660. This was one of his controversial works against
the Roman Catholics.
43. " The Vain Religion of the Formal Hypocrite, and the
mischief of an unbridled tongue as against religion, rulers, or dis
senters, described in several sermons preached at the abbey in
Westminster, before many members of the Honorable House of
Commons, 1 660 : And the Fool's prosperity the occasion of his
destruction ; a sermon preached at Covent Garden. Both pub
lished to heal the effects of some hearer's misunderstandings and
misreports." 12mo. published in Nov. 1660. J
44. " The Last Work of a Believer : His passing prayer, recom
mending his departing spirit to Christ to be received by him. Pre
pared for the funeral of Mary the widow, first of Francis Charl
ton, Esq., and after of Thomas Hanmer, Esq." Sic. 4to. pub
lished in January, 1661. This was the funeral sermon for the
mother of his intended wife.
45. After the Savoy Conference, " somebody," he says, " print
ed our papers, most of them, given in to them in that treaty ; of
which the petition for peace and the Reformed Liturgy, (except a
prayer for the king,) the large reply to their answer of our excep
tions, and the two last addresses, were my writing." This was in
1661. 46. " The Mischiefs of Self-ignorance and the Benefits of Self-
acquaintance, opened in divers sermons at Dunstan's West, and
published in answer to the accusations of some and the desires of
others." Svo. published in 1661. "It was fitted," he says, "to
* See pp, 169, 170. f See pp. 171 , 172. t See p. 207.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 219
the disease of this furious age in which each man is ready to de
vour others because they do not know themselves."
47. " Baxter's Account to the inhabitants of Kidderminster of
the reasons of his being forbid to preach among them." 4to. pub
lished in 1662.
48. " A Saint or a Brute : The certain Necessity and Excel
lency of Holiness so plainly proved, and urgently applied, as by the
blessing of God may convince and save the miserable, impenitent,
ungodly sensualists, if they will not let the Devil hinder them from
a sober and serious reading and considering. To be communicated
by tbe charitable that desire the conversion and salvation of souls,
while the patience of God, and the day of grace and hope contin
ue." 4to. published in 1 662. This is a work of several hundred
pages. 49. " Now or Never : The holy, serious, diligent believer,
justified, encouraged, excited, and directed ; and the opposers
and neglecters convinced, by the light of scripture and reason."
Published in 1663.
50. " Fair Warning ; or twenty-five reasons against the tolera
tion of popery." 8vo. published in 1663. There seems to be
some doubt whether this pamphlet ought to be numbered among
the writings of Baxter.
51. " The Divine Life, in three treatises ; the first of the knowl
edge of God ; the second of walking with God ; the third of con
versing with God in solitude." 4to. published in 1664. This
work was occasioned by a request of the Countess of Balcarras.
She was about returning to Scotland after a residence of some time
in England, and having been much profited by Baxter's writings
and by his preaching, desired him to preach the last sermon which
she was to hear from him, on these words of Christ, ' Behold the
hour cometh, yea is now come, that ye shall be scattered every
man to his own, and shall leave me alone ; and yet I am not alone,
because the Father is with me.' The sermon thus preached is the
third part of the work ; he says he prefixed the other two treatises
to make it more considerable. He apologizes for the work, in his
life, by saying that it was, "but popular sermons preached in the
midst of diverting business, accusations, and malicious clamors."

220 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
How much freedom of the press the non conformists enjoyed
appears from an incident which he records respecting this book.
" When I offered it to the press, I was fain to leave out the quantity
of one sermon in the end of the second treatise, (that God took
Enoch,) wherein I showed what a mercy it is to one that walked
with God, to be taken to him from this world ; because it is a dark,
wicked, malicious, incapable, treacherous, deceitful world, he.
All which, the bishop's chaplain must have expunged, because men
would think it was all spoken of them."
52. In 1665 he published only three single sheets ; two, de
signed " for the use of poor families that cannot buy greater books,
or will not read them ;" and the third, published at the time ofthe
plague, entitled, " Directions for the sick.1'
Among his earliest employments at Acton must have been the
preparation of his Narrative of his own life, the first part of which
was written mostly in 1664, and the second part in 1665. At the
conclusion of the second part of this narrative, he writes thus, —
" And now, after all the breaches on the churches, the ejection
ofthe ministers, and impenitency under all, wars and plague and
danger of famine began at once on us. War with the Hollanders,
which yet continueth ; and the dryest winter, spring, and sum
mer, that ever man alive knew, or our forefathers mention of late
ages : so that the grounds were burnt like the highways, where the
cattle should have fed. The meadow grounds where I lived, bare
but four loads of hay, which before bare forty ; the plague hath
seized on the famousest and most excellent city of Christendom,
and at this time nearly 8,300 die of all diseases in a week. It
hath scattered and consumed the inhabitants ; multitudes being
dead and fled. The calamities and cries of the diseased and im
poverished, are not to be conceived by those that are absent from
them. Every man is a terror to his neighbor and himself: and
God, for our sins, is a terror to us all. O ! how is London, the
place which God hath honored with his Gospel above all places of
the earth, laid low in horr rs, and wasted almost to desolation by
the wrath of that God, whom England hath contemned ! A God-
hating generation are consumed in their sins, and the righteous are
also taken away as from greater evils yet to come." "Yet, under

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 221
all these desolations, the wicked are hardened, and cast all on the
fanatics; the true dividing fanatics and sectaries are not yet hum
bled for former miscarriages, but cast all on the prelates and im-
posers ; and the ignorant vulgar are stupid, and know not what
use to make of any thing they feel. But thousands of the sober,
prudent, faithful servants of the Lord are mourning in secret, and
waiting for his salvation ; in humility and hope they are staying
themselves on God, and expecting what he will do with them.
From London the plague is spread through many counties, espe
cially next London, where few places, especially corporations, are
free : which makes me oft groan, and. wish that London, and all
ihe corporations of England, would review the Corporation Act,
and their own acts, and speedily repent.
" Leaving most of my family at Acton, compassed about with
the plague, at the writing of this, through the mercy of my dear
God, and Father in Christ, I am hitherto in safety and comfort in
the house of my dearly beloved and honored friend, Mr. Richard
Hampden, of Hampden, in Buckinghamshire, the true heir of his
famous father's sincerity, piety, and devotedness to God ; whose
person and family the Lord preserve ; honor them that honor him,
and be their everlasting rest and portion."*
Hampden, September 28, 1665.

* Narrative, Part II. p. 448

PART FIFTH.
Tue reader has now traced the series of events in the life of
Richard Baxter to the fiftieth year of his age. We have seen him
approving himself the man of God in the camp and in the court, in
the rural parish and in the great metropolis ; we are now to see him
in the decline of life, like the illustrious poet his cotemporary,
" unchanged," " On evil days though fall'n and evil tongues,
In darkness and with dangers compassed round."
At this period in his history, it is a privilege to have before us his
own deliberate review of the changes which had been wrought up
on his mind and heart, in his progress from youth to the commence
ment of his declining years. This review is the conclusion of the
first part of his personal narrative, and was written in 1664, the for
ty-ninth year of his age. It is presented here, much abridged.
" Because it is soul-experiments which those who urge me to
this kind of writing do expect that I should, especially, commu
nicate to others ; and I have said little of God's dealings with my
soul since the time of my younger years, I shall only give the rea
der so much satisfaction as to acquaint him truly what change God
hath made upon my mind and heart since those unriper times, and
wherein I now differ in judgment and disposition from myself. And
for any more particular account of heart occurrences, and God's
operations on me, I think it somewhat unsavory to recite them,
seeing God's dealings are much the same with all his servants in
tbe main, and the points wherein he varieth, are usually so small,
that I think such not fit to be repeated." " Tbe true reason why
I do adventure so far upon the censure of the world as to tell them
wherein the case is altered with me, is, that I may take off young
unexperienced Christians from over confidence in their first appre
hensions, or overvaluing their first degrees of grace, or too much
applauding and following unfurnished, unexperienced men ; and
that they may be directed what mind and course of life to prefer,
by the judgment of one that hath tried both before them.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. '12.1
" 1. The temper of my mind hath somewhat altered with tho
temper of my body. When I was young I was more vigorous, af
fectionate, and fervent, in preaching, conference, and prayer, than,
ordinarily, I can be now. My style was more extemporate and
lax, but, by the advantage of warmth, and a very familiar moving
voice and utterance, my preaching then did more affect the audi
tory, than many of the last years before I gave over preaching.
But what I delivered then was much more raw, and had more pas
sages that would not bear the trial of accurate judgments ; and my
discourses had both less substance and less judgment than of late.
" 2. My understanding was then quicker, and could more ea
sily manage any thing that was newly presented to it upon a sud
den : but it is since better furnished, and acquainted with the ways
of truth and error, and with a multitude of particular mistakes of
the world, which then I was the more in danger of, because I had
only the faculty of knowing them, but did not actually know them.
I was then like a man of quick understanding, that was to travel a
way which he never went before, or to cast up an account which
he never labored in before, or to play on an instrument of music
which he never saw before. I am now like one of somewhat a
slower understanding, who is traveling a way which he hath of
ten gone, and is casting up an account which he hath often cast up
and hath ready at hand, and that is playing on an instrument which
be hath frequently used : so that I can very confidently say my
judgment is much sounder and firmer now than it was then. When
I peruse the writings which I wrote in my younger years, I can find
the footsteps of my unfurnished mind, and of my emptiness and in
sufficiency : so that the man that followed my judgment then, was
liker to have been misled by me than he that should follow it now.
" And yet, that I may not say worse than it deserveth of my
former measure of understanding, I shall truly tell you what change
I find now in the perusal of my own writings. Those points which
then I thoroughly studied, my judgment is the same of now as it
was then, and therefore in the substance of my religion, and in
those controversies which I then searched into with some extraor
dinary diligence, I find not my mind disposed to a change : but in
divers points that I studied slightly, and by the halves, and in ma-

224 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
ny things which I took upon trust from others, I have found since
that my apprehensions were either erroneous or very lame." " And
this token of my weakness accompanied those my younger stu
dies, that I was very apt to start up controversies in the way of my
practical writings, and also more desirous to acquaint the world
with all that I took to be the truth, and to assault those books by
name which I thought did tend to deceive them, and did contain
unsound and dangerous doctrine ; and the reason of all this was,
that I was then in the vigor of my youthful apprehensions; and at the
new appearance of any sacred truth, it was more apt to affect me
and be highlier valued than afterwards, when commonness had
dulled my delight ; and I did not sufficiently discern then how much,
in most of our controversies, is verbal, and upon mutual mistakes.
And, withal, I knew not how impatient divines were of being con
tradicted, nor how it would stir up all their powers to defend what
they have once said, and to rise up against the truth which is thus
thrust upon them as the monal enemy of their honor : and I knew
not how hardly men's minds are changed from their former appre
hensions, be the evidence never so .plain."
" 3. In my youth, I was quickly past my fundamentals, and was
running up into a multitude of controversies, and greatly delighted
with metaphysical and scholastic writings, (though, I must needs
say, my preaching was still on the necessary points ;) but the elder
I grew, the smaller stress I laid upon these controversies and cu
riosities, though still my intellect abhorreth confusion."
" As the stock of the tree affordeth timber to build houses and
cities, when the small though higher multifarious branches are but to
make a crow's nest or a blaze, so the knowledge of God and of
Jesus Christ, of heaven and holiness, doth build up the soul to
endless blessedness, and affordeth it solid peace and comfort ;
when a multitnde of school niceties serve but for vain janglings and
hurtful diversions and contentions. And yet I would not dissuade
my reader from the perusal of Aquinas, Scotus, Ockham, Armini-
ensis, Durandus, or any such writer ; for much good may be got
ten from them : but I would persuade him to study and live upon
the essential doctrines of Christianity and godliness, incomparably
above them all. And that he may know that my testimony is some-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 225
what regard able, I presume to say that in this, I as much gainsay
my natural inclination to subtilty and accurateness in knowing, as
he is like to do by his if he obey my counsel."
" 4. This is another thing which I am changed in, that where
as in my younger days I never was tempted to doubt of tbe truth
of Scripture or Christianity, but all my doubts and fears were ex
ercised at home, about my own sincerity and interest in Christ,
and this was it which I called unbelief; since then my sorest as
saults have been on the other side, and such they were, that had I
been void of internal experience and the adhesion of love, and the
special help of God, and had not discerned more reason for my re
ligion than I did when I was younger, I had certainly apostatized
to infidelity. I am now, therefore, much more apprehensive than
heretofore of the necessity of well grounding men in their religion,
and especially of tbe witness of the indwelling Spirit." " For my
part, I must profess, that when my belief of things eternal and ofthe
Scripture is most clear and firm, all goeth accordingly in my soul,
and all temptations to sinful compliances, worldliness, or flesh-pleas
ing, do signify worse to me than an invitation to the stocks or Bed
lam. And no petition seemeth more necessary to me than, — Lord,
increase our faith ; I believe, help thou my unbelief.
" 5. Among truths certain in themselves, all are not equally
certain to me ; and even of the mysteries of the gospel I must
needs say, with Mr. Richard Hooker, that whatever men may pre
tend, the subjective certainty cannot go beyond the objective evi
dence. - Therefore I do, more of late than ever, discern a ne
cessity of a methodical procedure in maintaining the doctrine of
Christianity, and of beginning at natural verities as presupposed fun
damentally to supernatural truths ; though God may when he
please reveal all at once, and even natural truths by supernatural
revelation. And it is a marvellous great help to my faith, to find
it built on so sure foundations, and so consonant to the law of na
ture." " 6. In my younger years, my trouble for sin was most about
my actual failings ; but now I am much more troubled for inward
defects, and omission or want of the vital duties or graces in the
soul." " Had I all the riches of the world, how gladly would I
Vol.T. 29

226 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
give them for a fuller knowledge, belief, and love, of God and ev
erlasting glory ! These wants are the greatest burden of my life,
which oft maketh my life itself a burden. I cannot find any hope
of reaching so high in these, while I am in the flesh, as I once
hoped before this time to have attained ; which maketh me the
wearier of this sinful world, that is honored with so little of the
knowledge of God.
" 7. Heretofore, I placed much of my religion in tenderness of
heart, and grieving for sin, and penitential tears ; and less of it in
the love of God, and studying his love and goodness, and in his
joyful praises, than now I do. Then I was little sensible of the
greatness and excellency of rove and praise ;" " but my conscience
now looketh at love and delight in God, and praising bim, as the
top of all my religious duties ; for which it is that I value and use
the rest.
"8. My judgment is much more for frequent and serious medi
tation on the heavenly blessedness than it was in my younger days.
I then thought that a sermon of the attributes of God, and the joys
of heaven, was not the most excellent ; and was wont to say, ' Ev
ery body knoweth that God is great and good, and that heaven is
a blessed place ; I had rather hear how I may attain it.' And no
thing pleased me so well as the doctrine of regeneration and the
marks of sincerity, which was because it was suitable to me in that
state ; but now I had rather read, hear, or meditate, on God and heav
en, than on any other subject : for I perceive that it is the object
which altereth and elevateth the mind ; which will resemble that
which it most frequently feedeth on.
"9. I was once wont to meditate most on my own heart, and to
dwell all at home, and look little higher. I was still poring either
on my sins or wants, or examining my sincerity ; but now, though I
am greatly convinced of the need of heart-acquaintance and em
ployment, yet I see more need of a higher work, and that I should
look often upon Christ and God and heaven. At home I can find
distempers to trouble me, and some evidences of my peace ; but
it is above that I must find matter of delight and joy, and love, and
peace itself. Therefore I would have one thought at home upon

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 227
myself and sins, aud many thoughts above upon the high and ami
able and beatifying objects.
" 10. Heretofore I knew much less than now, and yet was not
half so much acquainted with my ignorance : I had a great delight
in tbe daily, new discoveries which I made, and of the light which
shined in upon me, like a man that cometh into a country where
he never was before ; but I little knew either how imperfectly I
understood those very points whose discovery so much delighted
me, or how much might be said against them, or how many things
I was yet a stranger to."
"11. Accordingly I had then a far higher opinion of learned
persons and books than I now have ; for what I wanted myself, I
thought every reverend divine had attained, and was familiarly ac
quainted with. And what books I understood not, by reason of
the strangeness of the terms or matter, I the more admired, and
thought that others understood their worth. But now experience
hath constrained me against my will to know, that reverend learn
ed men are imperfect, and know but little as well as I, especially
those that think themselves the wisest."
" 12. And at first [ took more upon my author's credit than now
I can do: and when an author was highly commended to me by
others, or pleased me in some part, I was ready to entertain the
whole ; whereas now I take and leave in the same author, and
dissent in some things from him that I like best, as well as from
others. " 13. At first, I was greatly inclined to go with the highest in
controversies on one side or other ; as with Dr. Twisse and Mr.
Rutherford, and Spanhemius de Providentia et Gratia, &c. But
now I can so easily see what to say against both extremes, that I
am much more inclinable to reconciling principles.
" 14. At first, the style of authors took as much with me as the
argument, and made the arguments seem more forcible, but now I
judge not of truth at all by any such ornaments or accidents, but
by its naked evidence.
" 15. I now see more good and more evil in all men, than hereto
fore I did. I see that good men are not so good as I once thought they
were, but have more imperfections ; and that nearer approach and

228 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
fuller trial do make the best appear more weak and faulty than
lheir admirers at a distance think. And I find that few are so bad
as either malicious enemies, or censorious separating professors do
imagine." " 16. I less admire gifts of utterance and the bare profession of
religion than I once did; and have much more charity for many
who by the wanl of gifts do make an obscurer profession." "Ex
perience hath opened to me what odious crimes may consist with
high profession ; and I have met with divers obscure persons, not
indeed noted for any extraordinary profession or forwardness in
religion, but only to live a quiet, blameless life, whom I have after
found to have long lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly
and sanctified life ; only their prayers and duties were, by acci
dent, kept secret from other men's observation. Yet he that upon
this pretence would confound the godly and the ungodly, may as
well go about to lay heaven and hell together.
"17. I am not so narrow in my special love as heretofore : be
ing less censorious, and taking more than I did for saints, it must
needs follow that I love more as saints than I did formerly."
" 18. I am not so narrow in my principles of church communion
as once I was." " I am not for narrowing the church more than
Christ himself allowed] us ; nor for robbing him of any of his flock."
" 19. Yet I am more apprehensive than ever of the great use
and need of ecclesiastical discipline."
" 20. I am much more sensible of the evil of schism, and of
the separating humor, and of gathering parties and making several
sects in the church, than I was heretofore. For the effects have
showed us more of the mischiefs.
"21. I am much more sensible how prone many young pro
fessors are to spiritual pride, and self-conceitedness, and unruli-
ness, and division, and so to prove the grief of their teachers, and
fire-brands in the church ; and how much of a minister's work li
eth in preventing this, and humbling and confirming such young
inexperienced professors, and keeping them in order in their prog
ress in religion.
"22. Yet I am more sensible of the sin and mischief of using
men cruelly in matters of religion, and of pretending men's good

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 229
and the order of the church, for acts of inhumanity or uncharita-
bleness." "23. My soul is much more afflicted with (he thoughts of this
miserable world, and more drawn out in desire of its conversion,
than heretofore. I was wont to look but little further than Eng
land in my prayers, not considering the state of the rest of the
world ; or if I prayed for the conversion of the Jew^s, that was al
most all. But now, as I better understand the case of the world,
and the method of the Lord's prayer ; there is nothing in the
world that lieth so heavy upon my heart, .as the thought of the
miserable nations of the earth. It is the most astonishing part of
all God's providence to me, that he so far forsaketh almost all the
world, and confineth his special favor to so few ; that so small a
part of the world hath the profession of Christianity, in compari
son of heathens, Mahometans, and other infidels ; that among pro
fessed Christians there are so few that are saved from gross delusions,
and have any competent knowledge; and that among those there
are so few that are seriously religious, and who truly set their hearts
on heaven. I cannot be affected so much with the calamities of
my own relations or the land of my nativity, as with the case of
the heathen, Mahometan, and ignorant nations of the earth. No
part of my prayers are so deeply serious as that for the conversion
of the infidel and ungodly world, that God's name may be sanctifi
ed, and his kingdom come, and his will be done on earth as it is in
heaven. Nor was I ever before so sensible what a plague the di
vision of languages is, which hindereth our speaking to them for
their conversion; nor what a great sin tyranny is, which keepeth
out the Gospel from most ofthe nations ofthe world. Could we
but go among Tartars, Turks, and heathens, and speak their lan
guage, I should be but little troubled for the silencing of eighteen
hundred ministers at once, in England, nor for all the rest that
were cast out here, and in Scotland, and in Ireland ; there being
no employment in the world so desirable in my eyes as to labor for
the winning of such miserable souls ; which maketh me greatly
honor Mr. John Elliot, the apostle of the Indians in New-England,
and whoever else have labored in such work.
" 24. Yet am I not so much inclined to pass a peremptory sen-

230

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

tence of damnation upon all that never heard' of Christ ; having
some more reason than I knew of before, to think that God's deal
ing with such is unknown to us; and that the ungodly here among
us Christians, are in a far worse case than they.
" 25. My censures of the Papists do much differ from what they
were at first. I then thought that their errors in the doctrine of
faith were their most dangerous mistakes." " But the great and
irreconcileable differences lie in their church tyranny and usurpa
tions, and in their great corruptions of God's worship; together
with their befriending of ignorance and vice."
"26. I am deeplier afflicted for the disagreements of Christians
than I was when I was a younger Christian. Except the case of
the infidel world, nothing is so bad and grievous to my thoughts as
the case of the divided churches."
" 27. I have spent much of my studies about the terms of Chris
tian concord, etc."
" 28. I am farther than ever I was from expecting great matters of
unity, splendor, or prosperity, to the church on earth, or that saints
should dream of a kingdom of this world, or flatter themselves with
the hope of a golden age, or reigning over the ungodly, till there
be a new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.
On the contrary, I am more apprehensive that suffering must be
the church's most ordinary lot; and indeed Christians must be
self-denying cross bearers, even where there are none but formal,
nominal Christians to be the cross-makers; and though, ordinarily,
God would have vicissitudes of summer and winter, day and night,
that the church may grow extensively in the summer of prosperity,
and intensively and radically in the winter of adversity ; yet, usu
ally their night is longer than their day, and that day itself hath its
storms and tempests."
"29. I do not lay so great a stress upon the external modes and
forms of worship, as many young professors do." "-I cannot be
of their opinion, that think God will not accept him that prayeth by
the Common Prayer-book ; and that such forms are a self-invent
ed worship, which God rejecteth ; nor can I be of their mind that
say the like of extemporary prayers.
"30. I am much less regardful ofthe approbation of man, and

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 231
set much lighter by contempt or applause, than I did long ago. I
am oft suspicious that this is not only from the increase of self-de
nial and humility, but partly from my being glutted and surfeited
with human applause. All worldly things appear most vain and
unsatisfactory when we have tried them most. But though I feel
that this hath some hand in the effect, yet, as far as I can perceive,
the knowledge of man's nothingness, and God's transcendent
greatness, with whom it is that I have most to do, and the sense of
the brevity of human things, and the nearness of eternity, are the
principal causes of this effect ; which some have imputed to self-
conceitedness and morosity.
"31. lam more and more pleased with a solitary life; and
though in a way of self-denial, I could submit to the most public
life for the service of God, when he requireth it, and would not be
unprofitable, that I might be private ; yet I confess it is much more
pleasing to myself to be retired from the world, and to have very
little to do with men, and to converse with God and conscience
and good books.
"32. Though I was never much tempted to the sin of covet-
ousness, yet my fear of dying was wont to tell me that I was not
sufficiently loosened from this world : but I find that it is compara
tively very easy to me to be loose from this world, but hard to live
by faith above. To despise earth, is easy to me ; but not so easy
to be acquainted and conversant with heaven. I have nothing in
this world which I could not easily let go ; but to get satisfying
apprehensions of the other world is the great and grievous diffi
culty. " 33. I am much more apprehensive than long ago of the odi_
ousness and danger of the sin of pride. Scarcely any sin appear
eth more odious to me." " I think so far as any man is proud, he is
kin to the devil, and utterly a stranger to God and to himself. It
is a wonder that it should be a possible sin to men that still carry
about with them, in soul and body, such humbling matter of reme
dy as we all do.
"34. I more than ever lament the unhappiness of the nobility,
gentry, .and great ones of tbe world, who live in such temptations

23J L1FJE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
to sensuality, curiosity, and wasting of their time about a multitud •
of little things."
"35. I am much more sensible than heretofore, of the breadth,
and length, and depth, of the radical, universal, odious sin of sel
fishness, and therefore have written so much against it; and ofthe
excellency and necessity of self-denial, and of a public mind, ..and
of loving our neighbor as ourselves.
" 3o. I am more and more»sensible that most controversies have
more need of right stating than of debating ; and if my skill be in
creased in any thing it is in that, in narrowing controversies by ex
plication, and separating the real from the verbal, and proving to
many contenders that they differ less than they think they do.
"37. I am more solicitous than I have been about my duty to
God, and less solicitous about his dealings with .me."
" 38. Though my works were never, such as could be any
temptation to me to dream of obliging God by -proper merit. in
commutative justice, yet one of the most ready, cons ant, undoubt
ed evidences of my uprightness and interest in his covenant, is,
the consciousness of my living devoted to him. I the more easily
believe the pardon of my failings through my Redeemer, while I
know that I serve no other master, and that I know no other end,
or trade, or business, but that I am employed in his work, and
make it the object of my life to live to him in the world, notwith
standing my infirmities. This bent and business of my life, with
my longing desires after perfection, in the knowledge and love of
God, and in a holy and heavenly mind and life, are the two stand
ing, constant, discernible evidences which most put me out of doubt
of my sincerity."
" 39. Though my habitual judgment, resolution, and scope of
life, be still the same, yet I find a great mutability as to the actual
apprehensions and degrees of grace ; and consequently find that so
mutable a thing as the mind of man, would never keep itself if God
were not its keeper. When I have been seriously musing upon the
reasons of Christianity, with the concurrent evidences methodically
placed in their just advantages before my eyes, I am so clear in my
belief of the Christian verities, that Satan hath little room for a
temptation : but sometimes when he hath on a sudden set some

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 233
temptation before me, when the foresaid evidences have been out
ofthe wav, or less upon my thoughts, he hath, by such surprises,
amazed me, and weakened my faith in the present act. So also as
to the love of God, and trusting in him; sometimes when the mo
tives are clearly apprehended, the duty is more easy and delightful;
and at other times I am merely passive and dull, if not guilty of
actual despondency and distrust.
"40. 1 am much more cautelous in my belief of history than hereto
fore. Not that I run into their extreme, that will believe nothing,
because they cannot believe all things. But I am abundantly sat
isfied by the experience of this age, that there is no believing two
sorts of men, ungodly men, and partial men, though an honest
heathen of no religion may be believed, where enmity against re
ligion biasseth him not ; yet a debauched Christian, besides bis
enmity to the power and practice of his own religion, is seldom
without some further bias of interest and faction, especially when
these concur, and a man is both ungodly and ambitious, espousing
an interest contrary to a holy, heavenly life, and also factious, em
bodying himself with a sect or party suited to his spirit and de
signs, there is no believing his word or oath."
"Having transcribed thus much of a life which God hath read, and
conscience hath read, and must further read, I humbly lament it, and
beg pardon of it, as sinful, and too unequal and unprofitable. I warn
the reader to amend that in his own, which he findeth to have been
amiss in mine ; confessing, also, that much hath been amiss which
I have not here particularly mentioned, and that I have not lived
according to the abundant mercies of the Lord. But what I have
recorded hath been especially to perform my vows, and declare
his praise to all generations, who hath filled up my days with his
invaluable favors, and bound me to bless his name forever."
" Having mentioned the changes which I think were for the bet
ter, I must add, that as I confessed many of my sins before, so I
have been guilty of many since which, because materially they
seemed small, have had the less resistance, and yet on the review,
do trouble me more than if they had been greater, done in igno
rance." " To have sinned while I preached and wrote against
sin, and had such abundant and great obligations from God, and
Vol. I. 30

234 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
made so many promises against it, doth lay me very low : not so
much in fear of hell, as in great displeasure against myself, and
such self-abhorrence as would cause revenge upon myself, were it
not forbidden. When God forgiveth me, I cannot forgive myself;
especially for my rash words or deeds, by which I have seemed
injurious and less tender and kind than I should have been to my
near and dear relations, whose love abundantly obliged me. When
such are dead, though we never differed in point of interest, or
any other matter, every sour or cross provoking word which I
gave them, maketh me almost irreconcilable to myself, and tells
me how repentance brought some of old to pray to the dead whom
they had wronged, to forgive them, in the hurry of their passion.
" And though I before told the change of my judgment against
provoking writings, I have had more will than skill since to avoid
such. I must mention it by way of penitent confession, that I am
too much inclined to such words in controversial writings, which are
too keen and apt to provoke the person whom I write against." "I
have a strong natural inclination to speak of every subject just as it
is, and to call a spade a spade, and verba rebus aptare; so as that
the thing spoken of may be fullest known by the words; which me-
thinks is part of our speakins; truly. But I unfeignedly confess that
it is faulty, because imprudent ; for that is not a good means which
doth harm, because it is not fitted to the end ; and because, whilst
the readers think me angry, though I feel no passion at such times
in myself, it is scandalous, and a hindrance to the usefulness of
what I write : and especially, because though I feel no anger, yet
which is worse, Iknow~that there is some want of honor and love,
or tenderness to others; or else I should not be apt to use such
words as open their weakness and offend them." " And I must
say as the New England synodists, in their Defense against Mr.
Davenport : ' We heartily desire, that as much as may be, all ex
pressions and reflections may be forborne that tend to break the
bond of love. Indeed, such is our infirmity, that the naked dis
covery of the fallacy or invalidity of another's allegations or argu-
ings is apt to provoke. This in disputes is unavoidable.' And, there
fore, I am less for a disputing way then ever, believing that it

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 235
tempteth men to bend their wits to defend their errors, and oppose
the truth, and hindereth usually their information."
" That which I named before, on the by, is grown one of my
great diseases ; I have lost much of that zeal which I had to propa
gate any truths to others, save the mere fundamentals." " I am
ready to think that people should quickly understand all in a few
words ; and if they cannot, lazily to despair of them, and leave them
to themselves. I know the more that this is sinful in me, because it
is partly so in other things, even about the faults of my servants or
other inferiors ; if three or four times warning do no good to them,
I am much tempted to despair of them, turn them away, and leave
them to themselves.
" I mention all these distempers that my faults may be a warn
ing to others to take heed, as they call on myself for repentance
and watchfulness. O Lord ! for the merits, and sacrifice, and
intercession of Christ, be merciful to me, a sinner, and forgive
my known and unknown sins !"
It might have been supposed that so great a national calamity as
" the plague in London," which in a few months swept to the grave
one hundred thousand people in that city alone, would have brought
the rulers of the nation, in church and state, to another temper.
But as die monarch, while the pestilence was desolating his king
dom, was the same lustful and profligate wretch that he ever had
been ; so the prelates and their partizans, amid the terrors of that
visitation, were as intent as ever on the oppression and extirpation
of those whom they hated and feared as Puritans.
" The ministers that were silenced for Nonconformity, had ever
since 1662 done their work very privately and to a few:" But
" when the plague grew hot, most of the conformable ministers
fled, and left their flocks in the time of their extremity ; whereupon
divers Nonconformists, pitying the dying and distressed people,
who had none to call the impenitent to repentance, or to help men
to prepare for another world, or to comfort them in their terrors,
when about ten thousand died in a week, resolved that no obedi
ence to the laws of mortal men whatsoever, could justify them in
neglecting men's souls and bodies in such extremities." " There
fore, they resolved to stay with the people, and to go into the for-

236 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
saken pulpits, though prohibited, and to preach to the poor people
before they died ; also to visit the sick and get what relief they
could for the poor, especially those that were shut up. The face of
death did so awaken both the preachers and the hearers, that the
preachers exceeded themselves in lively, and fervent preaching,
and the people crowded constantly to hear them ; and all was done
with so great seriousness, that through the blessing of God, abun
dance were converted from their carelessness, impenitency, and
youthful lusts and vanities ; and religion took that hold on many
hearts, as could never afterwards be loosed."
At this time it was, the parliament being assembled at Ox
ford, whither the king had removed his court on account of the
plague, that it seemed good in the eyes of Lord Clarendon, Arch
bishop Sheldon, and their associates, to visit the ejected ministers
with new persecutions. A law was therefore enacted, Oct. 1665,
entitled " an act to restrain nonconformists from inhabiting corpora
tions." By this act every nonconforming minister was required to
profess with a solemn oath, the unlawfulness of taking arms, against
the king or those commissioned by him, upon any pretence what
soever ; and to promise, with the same solemnity, never at any time
to endeavor any alteration of government in church or state. After
the 24th ofthe following March no nonconforming minister should
be allowed, unless in passing the road to " come or be within five
miles of any city, town corporate, or borough that sends burgess
es to parliament, or within five miles of any parish, town or place
wherein they had, since the act of oblivion, been parson, vicar, or
lecturer, or where they had preached in any conventicle on any
pretence whatsoever," without having first publicly taken and sub
scribed this oath. Every offense against this act was to be punish
ed with a fine of forty pounds, one third of which should be for the
informer; and' any two justices ofthe peace, upon oalh made be
fore them, were empowered to commit the offender to prison for
six months without bail.
The ingenuity which framed this act was equal to the cruelty
which inspired it. The oath prescribed was, upon the face of it
a denial of all the liberties of Englishmen ; insomuch that without
much explanation no honest man could take it. The refusal of this

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 237
oath by any of those against whom the provisions of the act were
directed, it was designed, should drive them from all those places,
where they were known, or had any possible means of subsist
ence, either by their personal exertions or by the contributions of
their friends. " In this strait," says Baxter, '¦ those ministers that
had any maintenance of their own, did find out some dwellings in
obscure villages, or in some few market towns which were no cor
porations. And those that had nothing did leave their wives and
children, and hid themselves abroad, and sometimes came secretly
to them by night. But (God bringing good out of man's evil)
many resolved to preach the more freely in cities and corporations
till they went to prison." " Those ministers that were unmarried
did easilier bear their poverty ; but it pierceth a man's heart to
have children crying, and sickness come upon them for want of
wholesome food, and to have nothing to relieve them." " I heard
but lately of a good man that was fain to spin as women do to get
something towards his family's relief (which could be but little,)
and being melancholy and diseased, it was but part of the day that
he was able to do that. Another, for a long time had but little but
brown rye bread and water, for himself, his wife, and many chil
dren, and when his wife was ready to lie in was to be turned out
of door, for not paying his house rent. Yet God did mercifully
provide some supplies, that few of diem either perished or were
exposed to sordid unseemly begging."
Baxter, notwithstanding the severity of this law, returned to Ac
ton, just before it was to take effect. He found the church-yard like
a plowed field with graves and many of his neighbors dead ; but
his own house, near the church-yard, uninfected, and that part of
his family which he left there, all safe.
Just six months after his return, London was visited with anoth
er great calamity. On the third of Sept. 1666, commenced the
" great fire." " The best and one of the fairest cities in the world
was turned into ashes and ruins in three days space, with many
score churches and the wealth and necessaries of the inhabitants."
" But some good rose out of all these evils. The churches being
burnt, and the parish ministers gone for want of places and main
tenance, the non-conformists were now more resolved than ever

238

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.

to preach till they were imprisoned." Many of them kept their
meetings very openly, " and prepared large rooms, and some of
them plain chapels, with pulpits, seats, and galleries, for the re
ception of as many as could come. The p%ople's necessity was
now unquestionable. They had none other to hear, save in a few
churches that would hold no considerable part of them ; so that to
forbid them to hear the Nonconformists, was all one as to forbid
them all public worship ; to forbid them to seek heaven when they
had lost almost all that they had on earth ; to take from them their
spiritual comforts after all their outward comforts were gone."
During the following year, the public calamities, including the ill-
success of the war in which the king was engaged with the Dutch,
conspired with some other causes to effect the overthrow of Lord
Clarendon, the prime minister who had been the author of the act
of uniformity, and the great enemy of the Puritans from the hour
of the restoration. He was impeached in parliament, and barely
escaping with his life, was condemned to perpetual banishment. He
was honestly a protestant ; and with a true dignity he always frown
ed on the unspeakable profligacy of the king and his minions. At
the same time, his talents, his experience, and his influence with
parliament, made his services for a long time indispensable. But
when popular indignation began to turn against the chancellor,
Charles was glad to be rid of him ; nor is it probable that the mon
arch's joy was at all checked by any feeling of gratitude toward the
man to whose almost superstitious loyalty he owed so much. " It
was a notable providence of God" says Baxter, " that this man,
who had been the great instrument of state, and had dealt so cru
elly with the nonconformists, should thus, by his own friends, be
cast out and banished, while those that he had persecuted were
the most moderate in his cause, and many of them for him. It
was a great ease that befel good people throughout the land by his
dejection. For his. way had been to decoy men into conspiracies,
or to pretend plots, upon the rumor of which the innocent people
of many counties were laid in prison ; so that no man knew when
he was safe. Since then, the laws have been made more and more
severe, yet a man knoweth a little better what to expect, when it
is by a law that he is to be tried."

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 239
Clarendon was succeeded as prime minister by the Duke of
Buckingham, a man as unprincipled and profligate as the king
himself. Yet he having formerly out of opposition to Clarendon
been a favorer of the nonconformists, that persecuted party found
under his administration some temporary relief. The act for the
suppression of conventicles, by which the hearers were made liable
to fine and imprisonment was suffered to expire, and the ejected
ministers began in many parts of the country to imitate the bold
ness which their brethren in the city had practiced since the fire, and
for a while were connived at by the government beyond their own
expectations. Baxter, from the beginning of his residence at Ac
ton, had uniformly preached to his own family on the sabbath at
such hours as did not interfere with the established worship ; and
now he had his house full ofthe people ofthe place.
At this period, some of the leading Presbyterians were consult
ed by some of the more moderate among the bishops and some of
the most eminent members of the administration, about a new scheme
of comprehension and toleration for the protestant dissenters. Bax
ter has given a detailed account of this negotiation. It was defeat
ed by the management of Archbishop Sheldon and his party, who
contrived to get a proclamation from the king commanding the
laws against tbe non-conformists to be put in execution, and espe
cially the law banishing the ejected ministers from all corporate
towns. Thus the persecution was renewed, in the beginning of the year
1669; and the prisons again began to be filled with ministers of
the gospel. Baxter mentions several of his neighbors who were
among the sufferers, one " for teaching a few children," another
" for teaching two knights sons in his own house ;" though he him
self still escaped. Possibly one reason of this indulgence was the
intimacy which he had formed about this time with one of the most
illustrious men of that or any other age, whose relations to the gov
ernment, as well as his personal character, might have checked
for a while the malice of informers.
" The last year of my abode at Acton," he says, " I had the
happiness of a neighbor whom I cannot easily praise above his
worth. This was Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief baron of the ex-

210 LIFE OF RICHV.RD BAXTER.
chequer, whom all the judges and lawyers of England admired for
his skill in law, and for his justice, and scholars honored for his
learning, and I highly valued for his sincerity, mortification, self-
denial, humility, conscientiousness, and his close fidelity in friend
ship. When he came first to town, ] came not near him, (lest be
ing a silenced and suspected person with his superiors, I should
draw him also under suspicion, and do him wrong) till I had no
tice round about of his desire of my acquaintance. And I scarce
ever conversed so profitably with any other person in my life."
" The conference which I had frequently with him, mostly
about the immortality of the soul, and other philosophical and
foundation points, was so edifying, that his very questions and ob
jections did help me to more light than other men's solutions.
Those who take none for religious, who frequent not private meet
ings, &c, took him for an excellently righteous, moral man : but
I, who heard and read his serious expressions of the concernments
of eternity, and saw his love to all good men, and the blameless-
ness of his life, thought better of his piety than of my own. When
the people crowded in and out of my house to hear, he openly
showed me so great respect before them at the door, and never
spake a word against it, as was no small encouragement to the
common people to go on ; though the other sort muttered that a
judge should seem so for to countenance that which they took to be
against the law."
The arm of the law however soon fell heavily on Baxter, not
withstanding this intimacy of bis with the most illustrious of its min
isters. The king himself — so Dean Ryves the parson of the par
ish afterwards said by way of apology — sent a message to the bish
op of London, ordering him to see that Baxter's meeting was sup
pressed. Hereupon Baxter was apprehended ; and having refus
ed to take the Oxford oath, he was without any form of trial, com
mitted by two justices of the peace to Clerkenwell prison for six
months. As he went to prison, he called on his friend Sergeant Fountain
for legal advice, who on an examination of the mittimus advised
him to seek for a habeas corpus, in the court ol Common-pleas.
On this subject he remained sometime in suspense. " My impris-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 241
onment, he says, " was at present no great suffering to me, for I
had au honest jailor, who showed me all the kindness he could. I
had a large room, and the liberty of walking in a fair garden. My
wife was never so cheerful a companion to me as in prison, and was
very much against my seeking to be released. She had brought so
many necessaries, that we kept house as contentedly and comforta
bly as at home, though in a narrow room, and I had the sight of
more of my friends in a day, than I had at home in half a year.
And 1 knew that if I got out against their will, my sufferings would
be never the nearer to an end. But yet, on the other side, it was
in the extremest heat of summer, when London was wont to have
epidemical diseases. The hope of my dying in prison, I have
reason to think was one great inducement to some of the instru
ments to move to what they did." Beside all this, his chamber
was in a noisy place, so that he had little hope of sleeping but by
day, and his strength was already so little that such a change would
soon destroy his life. The number of his visitors too, made it im
possible for him to do any thing but to entertain them. And after
all he was in prison, with no leave at any time to go out of doors,
much less to attend public worship, or to preach to any body but
the inmates of his narrow chamber.
He was advised by some to petition the king ; but he declined
any such movement. His friends at court, the earl of Manches
ter, the earl of Orrerry and others, exerted their influence with the
king in vain. Charles only assured them that he would not be of
fended if Baxter sought a remedy at law. So an appeal to the
law was resolved upon ; and when the question came before the
Court of Common-pleas, he was released on the ground of some
informalities in the commitment.
But here, according to his own statement, was but the begin
ning of his sufferings. His enemies were exasperated, and he
was still in their power. He had an expensive hired house on his
hands, which he could no longer occupy. He knew not what to
do with his goods and his family. He must go out of the coun
ty of Middlesex ; and must go nowhere within five miles of any
city or corporate town. " Where to find such a place, and there
in a house, and how to remove my goods thither," he says,
Vol. I. 31

243 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" and what to do with my house till my time expired, were more
trouble than my quiet prison by far."
" The next habitation," he adds, " which God chose for me,
was at Totteridge, near Barnet, where for a year, I was fain with
part of my family separated from the rest, to take a few mean
rooms, which were so extremely smoky, and the place withal so
cold, that I spent the winter in great pain ; one quarter of a year
by a sore sciatica, and seldom free from such anguish."
This removal was in the summer of 16G9. Soon afterwards
the act against conventicles was renewed by parliament, with new
and more severe provisions, one of which was that no fault ofthe
mittimus should make it void.
In the following summer, the duke of Lauderdale, who was
proceeding to Scotland to effect sqnie ecclesiastical changes there,
sought an interview with Baxter, and offered him any situation in
Scotland which he might choose, a church, a bishopric, or a place
in one of the universities. Baxter declined this offer for several
reasons ; his infirmities of body were such that his life, he was con
fident must be short, and would be shortened by a more northern
climate ; he was employed in writing-hisMethodusTheologiae, and
expected that the remainder of his life which he estimated at about
one year, would be barely sufficient to finish that work ; he had
understood that Scotland was well supplied with preachers, and
he apprehended the people there would have jealous thoughts of a
stranger ; and finally the idea of removing his family, including an
aged mother-in-law too infirm to travel, with all their goods and
books to such a distance, deterred him from such an undertaking.
" All this," he says in his letter to the duke on the occasion,
" concurreth to deprive me of this benefit of your lordship's favor.
But, my lord, there are other fruits of it which I am not altogeth
er hopeless of receiving. — I am weary of the noise of contentious
revilers, and have oft had thoughts to go into a foreign land, if I
could find any where I might have a healthful air and quietness,
that I might but live and die in peace. When I sit in a corner,
and meddle with nobody, and hope the world will forget that I am
alive, court, city, and country is still filled with clamors against
me ; and when a preacher wanteth preferment, his way is to preach

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 243
or write a book against the nonconformists, and me by name."
" I expect not that any favor or justice of my superiors should cure
any of this, but (1.) if I might but be heard for myself before 1 be
judged by them : (2.) if I might live quietly to follow my private
studies, and might have once again the use of my books (which I
have not seen for these ten years, and pay for a room for their stand
ing at Kidderminster, where they are eaten by worms and rats,
having no security for any quiet abode in any place enough to en
courage me to send for them :) and if I might have the liberty that
every beggar hath to travel from town to town — I mean but to
London to oversee the press when any thing of mine is licensed
for it: and (3.) if I be sent to Newgate for preaching Christ's gos
pel, if I may have the favor of a better prison where I may but
walk and write : — these I should take as very great favors, and ac
knowledge your lordship my benefactor if you procure them ; for
I will not so much injure you as to desire, nor my reason as to ex
pect, any greater matters.*
During all these years, while protestant dissenters were, so hotly
persecuted, the papists had been comparatively at ease ; and the
king and his most confidential servants had been pursuing the
design of subverting the constitutional liberties and the protestant
religion of the English nation. They favored the persecution of
the nonconformists, hoping thus to bring about a general toleration
which might be preparatory to the reestablishment of popery. They
were willing to see the protestants divided, and each party more
and more alienated from the other, that there might be no united
opposition to their scheme. They knew that the puritans were of
old the most uncompromising opposers of popery and the sturdiest
asserters of liberty ; and they hoped that this party humbled by
persecution might at last take shelter under the throne, and finding
in the rOyal prerogative that protection which laws and parliaments
had denied, might become the partisans of the power to which
they owed their liberties. The first parliament elected after the
king's return, had proved thus far sufficiently venal and obsequious
to answer all the purposes of the court, and had therefore been con-
*Narrative, Part III. pp. 75, 76.

244 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
tinued by successive prorogations ever since May, 1661. It is said
that more than one hundred members of this body were kept in
pay by the court. It is certain that a more infamous assembly
under that name never disgraced the annals of England. The na
tion's money was given to the king almost without limit ; and had
the force of Charles' character been equal to the wickedness of
his heart, the monarchy of England might have been made as ab
solute as that of France. But the profligacy of the king was in this
instance the safety of the people. The millions which Charles re
ceived from parliament, and the treasures acquired by the sale of
Dunkirk, and by a secret treaty with France, which had for its ob
ject the establishment of an absolute monarchy and of the Roman
Catholic religion in Great Britain, were lavished on harlots and
parasites ; and the king was still kept in a state of dependence.
Meanwhile the impiety and shameless debaucheries of the court,
spread through all the orders of society. Drunkenness and impuri
ty were the honored badges of loyalty ; not only seriousness, but
even temperance and chastity, were signs of nonconformity, and
prognostics of rebellion ; and tbe nation, in spite of all God's judg
ments, seemed ripening for the doom of Sodom.
At this time [1671] the scheme of the court was so far advanced,
that it was judged safe to offer the persecuted nonconformists some
sort of shelter under the wing of the prerogative. " The ministers
in several parties," as Baxter informs us, " were oft encouraged
to make their addresses to the king, only to acknowledge his clem
ency, by which they held their liberties, and to profess their loy
alty. The king told them, that though such acts were made, he
was against persecution, and hoped ere long to stand on his own
legs, and then they should see how much he was against it."
About the first of January, 1 672, the Exchequer was shut up ;
" so that," in the words of Baxter, " whereas a multitude ef mer
chants and others had put their money into the bankers' hands, and
the bankers lent it to the king, and the king gave orders to pay out
no more of it for a year, the murmur and complaint in the city
were very great, that their estates should be, as they called it, so
surprised." " Among others, all the money and estate, except
ten pounds per annum, for eleven or twelve years, thai I had in the

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER, 24 5
world, of my own, was there. Indeed it was not my own, which
I will mention to counsel those that would do good, to doit speedi
ly, and with all their might. 1 had got in all my life the just sum
of one thousand pounds. Having no child, I devoted almost all
of it to a charitable use, a free-school ; 1 used my best and ablest
friends for seven years, with all the skill and industry I could, lo
help me to some purchase of house or land to lay it out on, that it
might be accordingly settled. And though there were never more
sellers, I could never, by all these friends, hear of any that reason
could encourage a man to lay it out on, as secure, and a tolerable
bargain ; so that 1 told them, I did perceive the devil's resistance
of it, and did verily suspect that he would prevail, and I should
never settle, but it would be lost. So hard is it to do any good,
when a man is fully resolved."
This wholesale plunder, by which the king gained £1,400,000,
was the first decided step in the development of his plan for the es
tablishment of arbitrary power and the return of popery. The sec
ond step was the renewal of war, in alliance with France, against
the Dutch republic, with the intent of blotting out that prosperous,
free and protestant government from among the nations. The third
movement, was the king's declaration published March 16, 1672,
in which by virtue of his supreme power in all ecclesiastical mat
ters, he suspended the execution of all penal laws in relation to re
ligion ; and established at a word a system of toleration, under
which a convenient number of places was to be licensed with cer
tain restrictions, as places of public worship, for the use of protes
tant dissenters, while the papists were only to be indulged with the
liberty of holding meetings for worship at their own discretion, in
their own houses. The face of the declaration seemed to frown
on the papists ; but it was instantly discovered that the operation of
the system would be to give the Roman Catholics much more lib
erty than was offered to the protestants.
The nonconformists saw through this scheme ; and yet determin
ed to avail themselves of whatever advantages it offered them.
Some ofthe ministers waited on the king to thank him for the in
dulgence ; and many of them took out licenses and began to preach
publicly. Baxter delayed for a while, till the ministers in the city

246 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
had opened their respective places of worship, and had gathered
their congregations. After that, he consented to take a license,
on condition he might have it " without the .title of Independent,
Presbyterian, or any other party, but only as a nonconformist."
Such a license was obtained for him ; and " the 19th of Novem
ber," he writes, " my baptism-day, was the first day after ten
years silence that I preached in aT;olerated public assembly, though
not yet tolerated in any consecrated church, but only against law in
my own house." In January, he began a week-day lecture in the
chapel of a brother minister. On the Lord's days, he had no con
gregation of his own, but preached occasionally and gratuitously
where he was invited. The next spring he removed his family in
to the city, having resided at Totteridge three years.
But the progress of the court towards arbitrary power, had rous
ed something of the English spirit even in that degenerate age.
When the parliament assembled, corrupt and venal as it was, the
declaration of indulgence was voted illegal, and after much debat
ing and resistance on the part of the administration, was finally
given up by tbe king. The dissenters themselves were known to
be against the declaration. One of the representatives of the city
of London, speaking in the name of the nonconformists, declared
that they would rather not have their liberty than have it at the ex
pense of the constitution. The overthrow of the declaration was
followed by the Test act, which though leveled against the designs
of the court and the catholics, bore hard on the interests of protes
tant dissenters. Yet this act, the dissenters, in their zeal against
the common enemy, heartily promoted ; trusting that the parlia
ment would immediately honor their integrity, and relieve their
burthens. A bill for their relief was brought into the house of
Commons ; but was defeated by the united management of the
court and the bishops.
The court seeing that the Puritans were not to be enticed into a
conspiracy against the constitution, now let loose upon them the
whole pack of informers, and determined to make them feel the
weight of the law. A number of infamous persons in London and
elsewhere followed the trade of informers, and shared with justices
of the same stamp, the fines imposed on dissenters for the exercise

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTEIt. 247
of their worship. By such informers and magistrates, Baxter was
persecuted above most of his brethren. Prosecution w;is heaped
on prosecution ; but he escaped imprisonment, ;;nd while lie was
permitted to go at large he was resolved to purAie his work of
preaching. At last, he says, " I was so long wearied with keep
ing my doors shut against them that came to distrain on my goods
for preaching, that I was fain to go from my house, and to sell all
my goods, and to hide my library first, and afterwards to sell it ;
so that if books had been my treasure (and I valued little more on
earth,) I had now been without a treasure. For about twelve years,
I was driven a hundred miles from them ; and when 1 had paid
dear for the carriage, after two or three years, I was forced to sell
them. The prelates, to hinder me from preaching, deprived me
also of these private comforts ; but God saw that they were my
snare. We brought nothing into this world, and we must carry
nothing out. The loss is very tolerable."
In this way he lived for several years, driven from one refuge
to another, having no certain dwelling place, and yet preaching
with the boldness and perseverance of a martyr. Once with the
aid of his friends, he built a chapel. But after preaching there a
single sermon, be was obliged to flee into the country to escape
imprisonment. When he attempted to occupy it again, the meet
ing was repeatedly broken up by the king's drums beaten under the
windows. In the end, he was glad to dispose of it at a great pecu
niary sacrifice, that it might become a chapel of ease to the parish
within which it was built. All this while he was " in deaths oft,"
groaning under almost incredible anguish as his complicated diseas
es gained on his declining strength : and yet so intense and inde
fatigable was the energy of bis mind, be was producing volume af
ter volume, as rapidly as if he had been a man of perfect health and
unbroken literary leisure.
In 1678, the jealousy and alarm in respect to popery which had
long been rising, and for which the proceedings of the Court and
of the Catholics had given abundant cause, broke out into a sud
den and irresistible panic. The whole nation was thrown into a
ferment by the alleged discovery of a " popish plot," the purpose
of which was said to be to murder the king, to put the duke of

248 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
York on the throne, and to suppress the protestant heresy by fire
and sword. That the papists were at that time extensively con
sulting and plotting for the restoration of their religion in Great
Britain, and were hoping great things from the expected succes
sion of the duke of York, who was one of them, is unquestiona
ble. That the discoveries of Oates and others, by which the na
tion was thrown into so terrible a panic, were false, is equally be
yond dispute. But such was the excitement of all sorts of people,
that many papists of distinction, priests and laymen, were put to
death under the forms of law for a supposed participation in the
" bloody and hellish plot." In connection with this excitement, a
desperate effort was made in parliament to secure the liberties and
protestant religion ofthe nation, by excluding the duke of York from
his succession to tbe crown. This emergency united in one pha
lanx, the more moderate and liberal members of the established
church and the protestant dissenters. Several parliaments endea
vored the relief of the persecuted protestants ; but tbe bishops in
the house. of Lords, generally voted against such measures, and
the king was willing to have a body of men so uncompromising,
still at bis mercy. The persecution still went on, with occasional
intervals of partial repose, till the death ofthe king in 1685.
James II. a professed and bigotted papist, succeeded to the
throne ; and though at first all was tranquility and confidence, as
is usual with the English people at the accession of a new sove
reign, soon the fears which had formerly agitated the nation began
to revive ; and it was evident that all those fears were now to be
realized. The universities and the great body of the clergy still
professed the utmost obsequiousness, and preached, as they had
long done, the doctrine of unlimited obedience. Encouraged by
such demonstrations of loyalty, James went on the more rapidly
and madly with his designs. His court and council were filled with
papists ; parliaments were dispensed with ; laws were set aside by
tbe royal prerogative ; and a government in all respects arbitrary,
was attempted. The established church was at last invaded.
Some important livings in the universities and elsewhere were
seized by the king for the popish priests. On such an occasion,
nature was too strong for principle ; the favorite doctrine of passive

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 249
obedience was forgotten ; and the established clergy and the king
were arrayed against each other. The king had now no friends
but the Catholics ; and the nation was ripe for revolution. Urged
by many invitations, the prince of Orange, who had married James'
eldest daughter, invaded the kingdom ; and a revolution was ef
fected without a battle and almost without bloodshed, in 1689.
James, after an disgraceful reign of four years, abdicated the crown
by flight ; and was succeeded by William and Mary.
The concluding part of Baxter's narrative of his own life and
times, is mostly occupied with notices of the state of public affairs
during the latter years of Charles's reign, and at die accession of
James to the throne. The friends and associates of his earlier years
were departing in rapid succession to the " everlasting rest." His
wife, who had for twenty years cheered him with affectionate and
cheerful assiduity under his many afflictions, died on the 14th of
June, 1681. Thus left alone in his old age, with infirmities and
pains upon him, the recital of which would be distressing, he was
still followed by his persecutors. On the 24th of August, 1682,
just twenty years after the ejection, he preached in great weakness,
and expecting to preach no more, " took his leave of the pulpit
and public work in a thankful congregation." " But after this,"
he says, " when I had ceased preaching, 1 was suddenly surprised
by a poor, violent informer, and many constables and officers, who
had rushed in, apprehended me, and served on me one warrant
to seize on my person for coming within five miles of a corporation,
and five more warrants to distrain for a hundred and ninety pounds
for five sermons. They cast my servants into fears, and were
about to take all my books and goods, when I contentedly went
with them towards the justice to be sent to jail,' and left my house
to their will. But Dr. Thomas Cox, meeting me, forced me in
again to my couch and bed, and went to five justices, and took
his oath, without my knowledge, that I could not go to prison with
out danger of death. On that the justices delayed a day, till they
could speak with the king, and told him what the- doctor had sworn :
so the king consented that, for the present, imprisonment should be
forborne, that I might die at home. But they executed all their
warrants on my books and goods, even the bed that I lay sick on,
Vol. I. 32

250 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
and sold them all. Some friends paid them as much money as they
were prized at, which 1 repaid, and was fain to send them away.
" The separation from my books would have been a greater part
of my small affliction, but that I found I was near the end both of
that work and that life which needelh books, and so I easily let go
all. Naked came I into the world, and naked mus'. I go out. But
I never wanted less what man can give, than when men had" taken
all. My old friends, and strangers, were so liberal, that I was
fain to restrain their bounty. Their kindness was a surer and
larger revenue to me than my own. But God was pleased quick
ly to put me past all fear of men, and all desire of avoiding suffer
ing from them by concealment, by laying on me more himself than
man can do. Then imprisonment, with tolerable health, would
have seemed a palace to me ; and had they put me to death for
such a duty as they persecute me for, it would have been a joyful
end of my calamity : but day and night I groan and languish under
God's just afflicting hand. The pain which before only tired my
reins, and tore my bowels, now also fell upon my bladder, and
scarce any part, or hour, is free. As waves follow waves in the
tempestuous seas, so one pain followeth another in this sinful, mis
erable flesh. I die daily, and yet remain alive. God, in his great
mercy, knowing my dullness in health and ease, doth make it
much easier to repent and hate iny sin, loathe myself, contemn
the world, and submit to the sentence of death with willingness,
than otherwise it was ever likely to have been. O, how little is it
that wrathful enemies can do against us, in comparison of what our
sin and the justice of God can do ! and, O, bow little is it that tbe
best and kindest of friends can do for a pained body, or a guilty,
sinful soul, in comparison of one gracious look or word from
God t Wo be to bim that hath no better help than man : and
blessed is he whose help and hope are in the Lord !"
In 1684,. he was again apprehended. Expecting to be impris
oned for residing in London, he refused to open his chamber door,
the officers having no warrant to enter by violence ; but six offi
cers besieged his study, watching all night, and keeping him from his
bed and food, till on the second day he surrendered, and scarcely
able to stand, was carried to the sessions and " bound in four hun-

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 251
dred pounds bond to his good behavior." He desired to know
what his crime was ; and was told that he was thus dealt with only
to secure the government in evil times, and "that they had a list of
many suspected persons whom they must do the like with." The
same process was repeated thrice in the course of a few months.
On one of these occasions, Dec. 11th, he was told that the main
object was to restrain him from writing.
On the 28th of February following, a few days after the acces
sion of James, he was committed to prison by a warrant from the
infamous Chief Justice Jefferies, for his Paraphrase on the New
Testament, then just published, which was denominated a scanda
lous and seditious book against the government. On the 18th of
May, his counsel, on account of his illness, moved that his trial might
be postponed. " I will not give him a minute's time more, to save
his life," was the answer ofthe Chief Justice. On the 30th he
came to his trial in Guildhall. Eminent counsel had been em
ployed in his behalf by his friends. But the arbitrary and brutal
Chief Justice would allow no argument to be made in his defense.
One after another of those who attempted to speak, was interrupted
and overborne by the violence of the bench. The coarsest and
most rabid abuse was heaped on the prisoner. At last, Baxter him
self offered to speak. " My lord," said he, " I think I can clearly
answer all that is laid to my charge, and I shall do it briefly. The
sum is contained in these few papers, to which I shall add a lit
tle by testimony." But not a word would the judge hear ; and
the witnesses who had been cited in behalf of the prisoner, were
prevented from testifying. At length Jefferies summed up the
cause, in the same style in which he had conducted it. " Does
your lordship think," said Baxter, " that any jury will pretend to
pass a verdict upon me, on such a trial ?" " I'll warrant you, Mr.
Baxter," was the reply, " don't trouble yourself about that." The
jury immediately laid their heads together, and found him guilty .
He was fined five hundred marks, condemned to lie in prison till
he paid it, and bound to his good behavior for seven years.*
* An account of this trial is given in Calamy's life of Baxter, and is copied,
with some authentic additions, by Orme. Baxter's own narrative terminates just
before the date of his arrest.

252 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
Nearly two years afterwards, James, having found that the es
tablished clergy would not stand by their favorite doctrine of obe
dience, undertook once more to court the dissenters. Many who
were imprisoned were set at liberty. Among these was Baxter.
His fine was remitted ; but he was still under bonds for his good
behavior, it being expressly stipulated that he might continue to re
side in London. He was released November 24, 1C86.
Soon afterwards the king, pursuing his mad project, published
a declaration, stronger than that on which Charles had ventured in
1672, offeringthe most unlimited religious liberty, and suspending
all the laws against any sort of dissenters. Some ofthe ministers
united in addresses of thanks for this liberty, but Baxter and many
of his brethren stood aloof, lest they should seem to approve so
manifest an usurpation. None however scrupled to enjoy the liber
ty while it lasted. Baxter, though in his seventy second year,
resumed once more his public labors, assisting bis friend Mr. Syl
vester, in the charge of a congregation. Four years and a half,
he preached once every Lord's day, and once on every other
Thursday. After his growing diseases had disabled him from
preaching, he was wont to open his doors every morning and eve
ning, for all that would worship with him in his family. He con
tinued to write and publish after all his other labors were at an
end. And here the catalogue of his publications may be brought down
from the year 1665* to the end.
53. " The Reasons of the Christian Religion. The first part,
of godliness ; proving by natural evidence the being of God, the
necessity of holiness, and a future life of retribution, Sic. The
second part, of Christianity ; proving by evidence, supernatural and
natural, the certain truth ofthe Christian belief, and answering the
objections of unbelievers." 4to. published in 1667. This is a sys
tematic and elaborate work of six hundred pages.
54. " Directions for weak distempered Christians, to grow up
to a confirmed state of grace ; with Motives opening the lamenta
ble effects of their weaknesses and distempers." Svo. 1668.

*See pp. 217, 220.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 253
55. "The character of a sound Confirmed Christian ; as also
of a weak Christian, and of a seeming Christian." 8vo. published
in 1669.
56. " The Life of Faith ; in three parts." 4to. published
in 1670. The first part of this work, is his sermon formerly
preached before the king, with large additions. The other two
parts are instructions and directions on the same subject. The
whole is a volume of more than five hundred pages.
57. » The Cure of Church Divisions." Svo. published in 1671.
58. " Defense of the principles of love which are necessary to
the unity and concord of Christians, and are delivered in a book
called The Cure of Church Divisions. By Richard Baxter, one
of the mourners for a self-dividing and self-afflicting land." Svo.
published in 1671. The Cure of Church Divisions, was thought
by many nonconformists to reflect unjustly on them and their cause ;
and on that account it was severely handled by some of them, and
particularly by Edward Bagshaw, an Independent, of a warm and
hasty spirit. To his ' Antidote', Baxter replied in this ' Defense.'
59. " The Divine appointment of the Lord's Day, proved, as
a separated day for holy worship, especially in Church-Assemblies :
and consequently the cessation of the seventh-day Sabbath." 8vo.
published in 1671.
60. " The Duty of Heavenly Meditation reviewed, in answer to
the Exceptions of Mr. Giles Firmin." 4to. 1671. This pamph
let was a reply to a brother who had animadverted gently on some
passages in the" Saint's Rest.
61. " How far Holiness is the design of Christianity," 4to. a
pamphlet, published in 1671.
62. " God's goodness vindicated," &tc. 12mo. 1671.
63. " A second Admonition to Mr. Edward Bagshaw, written
to call him to repentance, &c." 4to. published in 1671.
64. " More Reasons for the Christian Religion and no Reasons
against it." 12mo. published in 1672. This was an Appendix to
the work numbered 53.
65. " The Church told of Mr. Edward Bagshaw's Scandal, and
warned of the dangerous snares of Satan now laid for them in his
love-killing principles." 4to. published in 1672. This was the

254 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
end of the controversy. Bagshaw, long a sufferer in the cause of
righteousness and liberty, whom his opponent characterizes as a
man of a Roman spirit, died, a prisoner, just as this pamphlet
came from the press ; — a circumstance which Baxter records as
one that gave him great pain.
66. " A Christian Directory ; or, A Sum of Practical Theolo
gy, and Cases of Conscience," etc. folio, 1673. This work was
written in 1664 and 1665. In the recent octavo edition, it fills
five large volumes.
67. " The poor man's Family Book." Svo. published in 1674.
68. " Catholic Theology — plain, pure, peaceable : for pacifica
tion of the dogmatical word-warriors ; who, by contending about
things unrevealed, or not understood, and by putting verbal dif
ferences for real, and their arbitrary notions for necessary sacred
truths, deceived and deceiving by ambiguous, unexplained words,
have long been the shame of the Christian religion, a scandal and
hardening to unbelievers, the incendiaries, dividers, and distracters
of the church ; the occasion of state discords and wars ; the cor
rupters of the Christian faith, and the subverters of their own souls,
and those of their followers ; calling them to a blind zeal and wrath
ful warfare against true piety, love, and peace, and teaching them
to censure, backbite, slander, and prate against each other, for
things which they never understood. In three books. I. Pacify
ing Principles about God's decrees, foreknowledge, providence,
operations, redemption, grace, man's power, free will, justifica
tion, merits, certainty of salvation, perseverance, 8tc. II. A Pa
cifying Praxis, or dialogue about the five articles, justification, &c,
proving that men here contend almost only about ambiguous words
and unrevealed things. III. Pacifying Disputations against some
real errors which hinder reconciliation, viz., about physical pre
determinations, original sin, the extent of redemption, sufficient
grace, imputation of righteousness, &c. Written chiefly for pos
terity, when sad experience hath taught men to hate theological
wars, and to love, and seek, and call for peace." folio. 1675.
69. " More Proofs of Infants' Church-membership, and conse
quently their rights to Baptism ; or a second Defense of our Infan

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 255
Rights and Mercies," Svo. published in 1675. This was the re
vival of his old dispute with Mr. Tombes. See pp. 145. 146.
70. " Two disputations of original Sin." 12mo. 1675.
71. " Treatise of Justifying Righteousness," Svo. 1676.
72. Omitting, for the present, any mention of a large class of
controversial writings which occupied much of his time, we notice
next a small tract published in 1 676, entitled " Reasons for Min
isters' using the greatest plainness," etc.
73. "Review ofthe state of Christian Infants," 8vo. 1676.
74. " A Moral Prognostication ; first, What shall befall the
Churches on earth, till their concord by the restitution of their
primitive purity, simplicity and charity : secondly, How that res
titution is likely to be made, if ever, and what shall befall them
thenceforth unto the end, in that golden age of love." 4to. published
in 1580. This work was written in 1661.
75. " Poetical Fragments : Heart Employment with God and
itself. The concordant discord of a broken healed heart; sorrow
ing, rejoicing, fearing, hoping, living, dying." 12mo. 1681.
76. " Methodus Theologian Christiana?, naturae rerum congrua,
sacra? scripturae conformis, praxi adaptata," etc. folio, 168K
There could hardly have been a more striking illustration of the
versatility of Baxter's talents, than the fact that the same year wit
nessed the publication of his Methodus Theologian, and his Poetical
Fragments ; the one (nearly 900 pages) full of all the logic, learn
ing, and metaphysics of the schoolmen ; the other (as insignificant
in bulk as any modern volume of poems) containing some truly
beautiful specimens of devotional poetry.
77. " A Breviate of the Life of Mrs. Margaret Baxter, with
some account of her mother, Mrs. Hanmer." 4to. 1681.
78. " Of the Immortality of Man's Soul ; and of the nature of
it, and of other spirits." 12mo. 1682.
79. "Compassionate Counsel to all Young Men; especially
London apprentices; students of divinity, physic, and law; and the
sons of magistrates and rich men." 12mo. 1682.
80. "The Catechising of Families: A Teacher of Household
ers how to teach their Households," etc. Svo. published in 1683.
This is a large catechism of nearly three hundred pages.

256 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
81. " Additions to the Poetical Fragments ; written for himself,
and communicated to such as are more for serious verse than
smooth." 12mo. published in 1683.
82. " Obedient Patience : its nature in genera], and its exercise,"
etc. 8vo. published in J 683.
83. " Mr. Baxter's Dying Thoughts upon Philippians i. 23," etc.
Svo. published in 1683. -
84. "The one Thing Necessary; or Christ's Justification of
Mary's choice," etc. Svo. 1685.
85. " Paraphrase on the New Testament, with Notes," etc. 4to.
1685. This book — for which the author suffered so much — was
designed as a Family Expositor.
86. "Knowledge and Love Compared," etc. 4to. 1689.
87. " Cain and Abel Malignity, that is, Enmity to serious Godli
ness, that is to a holy and heavenly state of heart and life : lament
ed, described, detected, and unanswerably proved to be the devil
ish nature ; and the militia of the Devil against God, and Christ,
and the church and kingdoms ; and the surest sign of a state of
damnation." 8vo. 1689.
88. "The Scripture Gospel defended, and Christ, grace, and free
justification vindicated against the libertines." 8vo. 1690. This
work was occasioned by a new breaking out of the antinomian con
troversy. 89. "An End of Doctrinal Controversies which have lately trou
bled the churches, by reconciling explication, without much dis
puting." Svo. 1691.
90, 91. In 1691, be published two pamphlets in opposition to
some extravagances then broached, by an unfortunate interpreter of
the apocalypse.
92. " Of National Churches ; their description, institution," etc.
4to. 1691.
93. "Richard Baxter's Penitent Confession and Necessary
Vindication." 4to. 1691.
94. " The Certainty of the World of Spirits, fully evinced by
unquestionable histories of apparitions," etc. 12mo. 1691. When
such men as Matthew Hale and Robert Boyle were firm believers

LIFE OF EICHARD BAXTER. 257
of the doctrine contained in this volume, a similar belief can by no
means be set down to the prejudice of Baxter's intellect.
95 — 103. Between 1674, and 16S2, he published nine separate
sermons, several of them funeral discourses, and few of them infe
rior to the best productions of any other preacher.
104 — 111. During the period from 1671 to 1691, he produced
eight different works against popery ; some of them, light tracts to
instruct and guard the uneducated reader; and some, elaborate
treatises for men of learning.
112 — 135. His publications in connection with the great con
troversy between the establishment and the dissenters, from the
year 1676 to the end of his life, are also too numerous to be sepa
rately mentioned here. Twenty-three different pamphlets and
volumes, some of them among his most labored productions, con
stitute this series. His part in this controversy was altogether his
own. On»the one hand he attempted to restrain the zeal of his
suffering brethren ; and on the other he showed himself more than
a match for the most learned and able of their ecclesiastical op
pressors. 136 — 140. This enumeration may be carried still farther, by
adding five posthumous volumes, the most considerable of which,
entitled " Reliquia? Baxteriana? ; Mr. Richard Baxter's Narrative,"
etc. was published in 1696. Another was a metrical " Paraphrase
on the Psalms of David, with other Hymns."
We have followed the good man to the end of all his labors.
After having seen how he lived, we hardly need to be told how he
died ; the death of such a man could not but be peace.
With what . temper he approached the final hour may be seen
from a letter of his to tbe venerable Increase Mather of Boston,
which though dated about four months before his death, was doubt
less among the last productions of his pen. The book referred to,
is Cotton Mather's life of Eliot.
" Dear Brother,
" I thought I had been near dying at twelve o'clock in bed : but
your book revived me ; I lay reading it until between one and two.
I knew much of Mr. Eliot's opinions, by many letters which I had
Vol. I. 33

258 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
from him. There was no man on earth whom 1 honored above
him. It is his evangelical work that is tbe apostolical succession
which I plead for. I am now dying I hope as he did. It pleased
me to read from bim my case. ' My understanding faiteth, my
memory faileth, and my hand and pen fait, but my charity faileth
not.' That word much comforted me. I am as zealous a lover
of the New England Churches as any man, according to Mr. Noyes',
Mr. Norton's and Mr. Mitchel's, and the Synod's model. I love
your father upon the letters I received from him. I love you bet
ter for your learning, labors, and peaceable moderation. I love
your son better than either ol you, tcr the excellent temper ihat
appeareth in his writings. O that godliue-s and wisdom may in
crease in ail families. He hath honored himself half as much as
Mr. Eliot ; I say half as much, for deeds excel words. God pre
serve you and New England. Pray for your fainting languishing
friend, Ri. Baxter."
"Aug. 3, 1691."
The sermon at Baxter's funeral, was preached, as he had him
self requested, by his old and tried friend, Dr. Bates. Another
sermon on the same occasion was preached to the congregation to
which he had last ministered, by his associate in the ministry, Syl
vester. From these sermons the following particulars are selected.
"He continued to preach so long," says Bates, "notwithstandinghis
wasted, languishing body, that the last time he almost died in the pulpit.
It would have been his joy to have been transfigured in the mount.
Not long after, he felt the approaches of death, and was confined
to his sick bed. Death reveals tbe secrets of the heart ; then words
are spoken with most feeling and less affectation. This excellent
saint was the same in his life and death; his last hours were spent
in preparing others and himself to appear before God. He said to
his friends that visited him, 'You come hither to learn to die ; I am
not the only person that must go this way. I can assure you that
your whole life, be it ever so long, is little enough to prepare for
death. Have a care of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of
the flesh ; be sure you choose God for your portion, heaven for
your home, God's glory for your end, his word for your rule, and
then you need never fear but we shall meet with comfort.'

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 259
" Never was penitent sinner more humble and debasing himself,
never was a sincere believer more calm and comfortable." "Ma
ny times he prayed, ' God be merciful to me a sinner,' and blessed
God that this was left upon record in the gospel as an effectual
prayer. He said, ' God may justly condemn me for the best duty
I ever did ; and all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in
Christ,' which he often prayed for."
" His resigned submission to the will of God in his sharp sickness
was eminent. When extremity of pain constrained him earnestly
to pray to God i'u\- his release by death, he would check himself, " It
is not fit for me to prescribe — when thou wilt, what thou wilt, how
thou wilt.'
" Being in great anguish, he said, ' O ! how unsearchable are
his ways, and his paths past finding out ; the reaches of his providence
we cannot fathom !' And to his friends, ' Do not think the worse
of religion for what you see me suffer.'
•' Being often asked by his friends, how it was with his inward
man, he replied, ' I bless God I have a well-grounded assurance of
my eternal happiness, and great peace and comfort within.' But it
was his trouble he could not triumphantly express it, by reason of
his extreme pains. He said, ' Flesh must perish, and we must feel
die perishing of it ; andthat though his judgment submitted, yet sense
would still make him groan.'
" Being asked by a person of quality, whether he had not great
joy from his~believing apprehensions ofthe invisible state, he replied,
' What else, think you, Christianity serves for ?' He said, the con
sideration ofthe Deity in his glory and greatness, was too high for
our thoughts ; but the consideration ofthe Son of God in our nature,
and ofthe saints in heaven whom we knew and loved, did much
sweeten and familiarize heaven to him. The description of heaven,
in Heb. xii. 22, was most comfortable to him ; " that he was go
ing to the innumerable company of angels, and to the general as
sembly and church of the first-born, whose names are written in
heaven ; and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men
made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator ofthe new covenant, and
to the biood of sprinkling, which speaketh better things than the
blood of Abel.' That scripture, he said, * deserved a thousand

260 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
thousand thoughts." He said, ' Oh, how comfortable is that pro
mise; Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into
the heart of man to conceive, the things God hath laid up for those
who love him.'
" At another time, he said, that he found great coraftrt and
sweetness in repeating the Lord's Prayer, and was sorry some good
people were prejudiced against the use of it, for there were all ne
cessary petitions for soul and body contained in it.
" At other times, he gave excellent counsel to young ministers
that visited him ; and earnestly prayed to God to bless their labors,
and make them very successful in converting many souls to Christ;
and expressed great joy in the hopes that God would do a great
deal of good by them ; and that they were of moderate, peace
ful spirits.
" He did often pray that God would be merciful to this miserable,
distracted world, and that he would preserve his church and inter
est in it. He advised his friends to beware of self-conceitedness, as
a sin that was likely to ruin this nation ; and said, ' I have written a.
book against it, which I am afraid has done little good.'
" Being asked, whether he had altered his mind in controversial
points, he said, ' Those that please, may know my mind in my wri
tings; and that what he had done, was not for his own reputation,
but for the glory of God.'
" I went to him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. Mather, of New
England, the day before he died; and speaking some comforting
words to him, he replied, 'I have pain; there is no arguing against
sense, but I have peace, I have peace.' I told him, ' You are now
approaching to your long-desired home;' he answered, 'I believe,
I believe.' He said to Mr. Mather, ' I bless God that you have
accomplished your business; the Lord prolong your life.'
" He expressed a great willingness to die ; and during his sickness,
when the question was asked, ' How he did ?' his reply was, 'Almost
well.' His joy was most remarkable, when, in his own apprehen
sions, death was nearest ; and his spiritual joy was at length con
summate in eternal joy."*

* Bates' Works, Vo!. iv. pp. 337, 340.

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 261
"While pain and sickness wasted his body," says Sylvester, " his
soul abode rational, strong in faith and hope, arguing itself into, and
preserving itself in that patience, hope and joy through grace, which
gave him great support, and kept out doubts and fears concerning
his eternal welfare."
" Even to the last, I never could perceive his peace and heavenly
hopes assaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly lament
that he felt no greater liveliness in what appeared so great and clear
to him, and so very much desired by him. As to the influence
thereof upon his spirit, in order to the sensible refreshments of it,
he clearly saw what ground he had to rejoice in God; he doubted
not of his right to heaven. He told me he knew it should be well
with him when he was gone. He wondered to hear others speak
of their sensible, passionately strong desires to die, and of their
transports of spirit, when sensible of their approaching death;
whereas he himself thought he knew as much as they, and had as
rational satisfaction as they could have that his soul was safe, and
yet could never feel their sensible consolations. I asked him,
whether much of this was not to be resolved into bodily constitu
tion ; he told me he thought it might be so."
" On Monday, Dec. 7, about five in the evening, death sent his
harbinger to summon him away. A great trembling and coldness
extorted strong cries from him, for pity and redress from heaven ;
which cries and agonies continued for some time, till at length he
ceased and lay in an observant, patient expectation of his change.
Being once asked, by his faithful friend, and constant attendant in
his weakness, Mrs. Bushel, his house-keeper, whether he knew
her or not, requesting some sign of it if he did, he softly cried,
' Death, death !' He now felt the benefit of his former preparations
for the trying time. The last words that he spake to me, on being
informed that I was come to see him, were, 'Oh I thank him, I
thank him,' and turning his eye to me, he said, ' The Lord teach
you how to die.'"
"He expired on Tuesday morning, about four o'clock, Dec.
S, 1691. Though he expected and desired his dissolution to
have been on the Lord's-day before, which with joy to me, he
called a high day, because of his desired change expected then by
him."

262 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
Sylvester thus describes the person and manners of his venerable
friend. " He was tall and slender, and stooped much. His coun
tenance wascomposed and grave, somewhat inclining to smile. He
had a piercing eye, a very articulate speech, and his deportment
was rather plain than complimentary. He had a great command
over his thoughts, and had that happy faculty, according to the
character which was given of him by a learned man dissenting from
him, that 'be could say what he would, and he could prove what
he said.' He was pleasingly conversible, save in his studying hours,
wherein he could not bear with trivial disturbances. He was spar
ingly facetious, but never light or frothy. He was immoveable where
apprehensive of his duty ; yet affable and condescending where
there was a likelihood of doing good. His personal abstinence,
severities, and labors, were exceeding great. He kept his body
under, and always feared pampering his flesh too much."
" His prayers," says Bates, "were an effusion of the most lively
melting expressions, and his intimate ardent affections to God ; from
the ' abundance of the heart his lips spake.' His soul took wing for
heaven, and rapt up the souls of others with him. Never did I see or
hear a holy minister address himself to God with more reverence and
humility, with respect to his glorious greatness ; never with more
zeal and fervency correspondent to the infinite moment of his re
quests ; nor with more filial affiance in the divine mercy.
" In his sermons there was a rare union of arguments and mo
tives to convince the mind and gain the heart : all the fountains of
reason and persuasion were open to his discerning eye. There was
no resisting the force of his discourses without denying reason and
divine revelation-. He had a marvellous felicity and copiousness in
speaking. There was a noble negligence in his style : for his great
mind could not stoop to the affected eloquence of words : he des
pised flashy oratory : but his expressions were clear and powerful,
so convincing the understanding, so entering into the soul, so en
gaging the affections, that those were as deaf as adders, who were
not * charmed by so wise a charmer.' He was animated with the
Holy Spirit, and breathed celestial fire, to inspire heat and life into
dead sinners, and to melt the obdurate in the frozen tombs. Me-
thinks I still hear him speak those powerful words : ' A wretch that

LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER. 263
is condemned to die to-morrow cannot forget it : and yet poor sin
ners, that continually are uncertain to live an hour, and certain
speedily to see the majesty of the Lord to their inconceivable joy or
terror, as sure as they now live on earth, can forget these things
for which they have their memory : and which one would think
should drown the matters of this world, as the report of a cannon
does a whisper, or as the sun obscures the poorest glow-worm. O
wonderful folly and distractedness of the ungodly ! That ever men
can forget, I say again, that they can forget, eternal joy, eternal
woe, and the eternal God, and the place of their eternal unchangea
ble abodes, when they stand even at the door ; and there is but a
thin veil of flesh between them and that amazing sight, that eter
nal gulf, and they are daily dying and stepping in.' "
" Though all divine graces, the ' fruit of the Spirit,' were visi
ble in his conversation, yet some were more eminent. Humility
is to other graces, as the morning-star is to the sun, that goes be
fore it, and follows it in the evening : humility prepares us for tbe
receiving of grace, " God gives grace to the humble :" and it fol
lows the exercise of grace ; " Not I," says the apostle, " but the
grace of God in me." In Mr. Baxter, there was a rare union of
sublime knowledge, and other spiritual excellencies, with the low
est opinion of himself."
" Self-denial and contempt of the world were shining graces irr
him. I never knew any person less indulgent to himself, and more
indifferent to his temporal interest. The offer of a bishopric was
no temptation to him ; for his exalted soul despised the pleasures
and profits which others so earnestly desire ; he valued not an
empty title upon his tomb."
" This saint was tried by many afflictions. We are very tender
of our reputation : his name was obscured under a cloud of de
traction. Many slanderous darts were thrown at him. He was
charged with schism and sedition. He was accused for his para
phrase upon the New Testament, as guilty of disloyal aspersions
upon the government, and condemned, unheard, to a prison, where
he remained for some years. But he was so far from being mov
ed at the unrighteous prosecution, that he joyfully said to a constant
friend, ' What could I desire more of God, than after serving him
to my power, I should now be called to suffer for him.' "

264 LIFE OF RICHARD BAXTER.
" But his patience was more eminently tried by his continual
pains and languishing. Martyrdom is a more easy way of dying,
when the combat and the victory are finished at once, than to die
by degrees every day. His complaints were frequent, but who
ever heard an unsubmissive word drop from his lips ? He was not
put out of his patience, nor out of the possession of himself. In
his sharp pains, he said, ' I have a rational patience, and a believ
ing patience, though sense would recoil.'
" His pacific spirit was a clear character of his being a child of
• God. How ardently he endeavored to cement the breaches among
us, which others widen and keep open, is publicly known. He
said to a friend, ' I can as vvillingly be a martyr for. love, as for any
article of the creed.' It is strange to astonishment, that those who
agree in the substantial and great points of the reformed religion,
and are of differing sentiments only in things not so clear, nor of
that moment as those wherein they consent, should still be oppo
site parties."
" Love to the souls of men was the peculiar character of Mr.
Baxter's spirit. In this he imitated and honored our Savior, who
prayed, died, and lives for the salvation of souls. All his natural
and supernatural endowments were subservient to this blessed end.
It was his ' meat and drink,' the life and joy of his life to do good
to souls. In his usual conversation, his serious, frequent and de
lightful discourse was of divine things, to inflame his friends with
the love of heaven. He received with tender compassion and con
descending kindness, the meanest that came to him for counsel
and consolation. He gave in one year a hundred pounds to buy
bibles for the poor. He has in his will disposed of all that remains
of his estate after the legacies to his kindred, for the benefit of the
souls and bodies of the poor."
Who will not join in the prayer with which Bates concludes his
sermon ? " May I live the short remainder of my life, as entirely
to the glory of God, as he lived ; and when I shall come to the
period of my life,' may I die in the same blessed peace wherein
he died ; may I be with him in the kingdom of light and love for
ever."

RIGHT METHOD

A SETTLED PEACE OP CONSCIENCE,
AND
SPIRITURAL COHFORT.
IN THIRTY-TWO DIRECTIONS.
'¦ God is love." 1 John iv. 16.
"Come, for all things are now ready." Lukexiv.17. Mat. xxii. 4.

Vol I.

" Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy-laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and
lowly in heart : and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is ea
sy, and my burden is light." Mat. xi. 28.
" For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh:
and these are contrary the one to the other ; so that ye cannot do the
things that ye would." Gal. v. 17.
" Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his
servants ye are to whom ye obey ; whether of sin unto death, or of obedi
ence unto righteouness ?" Rom. vi. 16.
" Make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." Rom. xiii. 14.
" For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die : but if ye through the Spi
rit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." Rom. viii. 13.
" While they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of
corruption : for of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he brought in
bondage." 2 Pet. ii. 19.
" Thus ye speak, saying, If our transgressions and our sins be upon us,
and we pine away in them, how should we then live? Say unto them, As
I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked,
but that the wicked turn from his way and live. Turn ye, turn ye from
your evil ways ; for why will ye die, O house of Israel ?"
Ezek. xxxiii. 10, 11.
" Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech
you by us : we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."
2 Con. v. 20.
" Trust in the Lord, and do good, &c Delight thyself also in the Lord,
and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart." Ps. xxxvii. 3, 4.
Sound doctrine makes a sound judgment, a sound heart, a sound conver
sion, and a sound conscience.

EPISTLE DEDICATORY.

To my much valued, beloved, and honored Friends, Colonel
John Bridges, with Mrs. Margaret Bridges, his wife, and
Mr. Thomas Foley, with Mrs. Anne Foley, his wife.
Though in publishing our writings, we intend them for the good
of all : yet custom, not without reason, doth teach us, sometimes
to direct them more especially to some. Though one only had
the original interest in these papers, yet do I now direct them to
you all, as not knowing how in this to separate you. You dwell
together in my estimation and affection : one of you a member of
the church which I must teach, and legally the patron of its
maintenance and minister : the other, a special branch of that fami
ly which I was first indebted to in this county. You lately joined
in presenting to the parliament, the petition of this county for the
Gospel and a faithful ministry. When I only told you of my in
tention, of sending some poor scholars to the university, you freely
and jointly offered your considerable annual allowance thereto,
and that for the continuance of my life, or their necessities there.
I will tell the world of this, whether you will or no ; not for your
applause, but for their imitation ; and the shame of many of far
greater estates, that will not be drawn to do the like. The season"
somewhat aggravates the goodness of your works. When satan
hath a design to burn up those nurseries, you are watering God's
plants ; when the greedy mouth of sacrilege is gaping for their
maintenance, you are voluntarily adding, for. the supply ofitsde-

268 EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
feet. Who knows how many souls they may win to Christ (if God
shall send them forth into his harvest) whom you have thus as
sisted ? And what an addition to your comfort this may be ?
When the Gospel is so undermined, and the ministry so maligned,
and their maintenance so envied, you have, as the mouth of this
county, appeared for them all. What God will yet do with us, we
cannot tell ; but if he will continue his Gospel to us, you may have
the greater comfort in it. If he will remove it, and forsake a
proud, unworthy, false-hearted people, yet may you have the com
fort of your sincere endeavors ; you (with the rest that sincerely
furthered it) may escape the gnawings of conscience, and the pub
lic curse and reproach which the history of this age may fasten
UpOn them, who after all their engagements in blood and covenants,
would either in ignorant fury, or malicious subtlety, or base tempo
rizing cowardice, oppugn or undermine the Gospel, or in perfidi
ous silence look on whilst it is destroyed. But because it is not
the work of a flatterer that I am doing, but of a friend, I must
second these commendations with some caution and counsel, and
tell yourselves of your danger and doty, as I tell others of your
exemplary deeds. Truly, the sad experiences of these times, have
much abased my confidence in man, and caused me to have lower
thoughts ofthe best than sometime I have had. I confess I look on
man, as such a distempered, slippery and inconstant thing, and of
such a natural mutability of apprehensions and affections, that as I
shall never more call any man on earth my friend, but with a sup
position that he may possibly become mine enemy ; so I shall never
be so confident of any man's fidelity to Christ, as not withal to sus
pect that he may possibly forsake him. Nor shall I boast of any
man's service for the Gospel, but with a jealousy that he may be
drawn to do as much against it (though God, who knows the heart,
and knows his own decrees, may know his sincerity, and foreknow
his perseverance.) Let me therefore remember you, that had you
expended your whole estates, and the blood of your hearts for
Christ and his Gospel, he will not take himself beholden to yon.
He oweth you no thanks for your deepest engagements, highest
adventures, greatest cost, or utmost endeavors. You are sure be
forehand that you shall be no losers by him : your seeming hazards

EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 269
increase your security : your losses are your gain : your giving is
your receiving : your expenses are your revenues : Christ returns
the largest usury. The more you do and suffer for him, the more
you are beholden to him. I must also remember you, that you
may possibly live to see the day, when it will cost you dearer to
shew yourselves faithful to the Gospel, ordinances and ministers of
Christ, than now it doth ; and that many have shrunk in greater
trials, that past through lesser with resolution and honor. Your
defection at the last, would be the loss of all your works and hopes.
If any man draw back, Christ saith, his soul shall have no plea
sure in him. Even those that have endured the great fight of af
fliction, being reproached and made a gazing stock, and that having
taken joyfully the spoiling of their goods, in assurance of a better
and enduring substance, have yet need to be warned that they cast
not away their confidence, and draw not back to perdition, and
lose not the reward for want of patience and perseverance; Heb.
x. 22. to the end. That you may escape this danger and be hap-"
py forever, take this advice. 1 . Look carefully to the sincerity
of your hearts, in the covenant-closure with Christ. See that you
take him with the happiness he hath promised for your all. Take
heed of looking after another felicity ; or cherishing other hopes ;
or esteeming too highly any thing below. Be jealous, and very
jealous, lest your hearts should close deceitfully with Christ, main
taining any secret reserve for your bodily safety ; either resolving
not to follow him, or not resolving to follow him through the most
desolate distressed condition that he shall lead you in. Count
what it may cost you to get the crown ; study well his precepts of
mortification and self-denial. There is no true hopes of the glory
to come, if you cannot cast over-board all worldly hopes, when the
storm is such that you must hazard the one. O how many have
thought that Christ was most dear to them, and that the hopes of
heaven were their chiefest hopes, who have left Christ, though
with sorrow, when he bid them let go all ? 2. Every day renew
your apprehensions ofthe truth and worth of the promised felicity,
and of the delusory vanity of all things here below : let not heaven
lose with you its attractive force, through your forgetfulness or un
belief. He is the best Christian that knows best why he is a Chris-

270

EPISTLE DEDICATORS'.

tian, and ho will most faithfully seek and suffer, that best knows for
what he doth it. Value not wealth and honor above that rate,
which the wisest and best experienced have put upon them, and al
low them no more of your affections than they deserve. A mean
wit may easily discover their emptiness. Look on all present ac
tions and conditions with a remembrance of their end. Desire not
a share in their prosperity, who must pay as dear for it as the loss
of their souls. Be not ambitious of that honor which must end ip
confusion nor of the favor of those that God will call enemies.
How speedily will they come down, and be levelledwith the dust,
and be laid in the chains of darkness, that now seem so happy to
the purblind world, that cannot see the things to come ? Fear not
that man must shortly tremble before that God whom all must fear.
3. Be more solicitous for the securing of your consciences and sal
vation, than of your honors or estates : in every thing that you are
put upon, consult first with God and conscience, and not with flesh
and blood. It is your daily and most serious care and watchful
ness that is requisite to maintain your integrity, and not a few care
less thoughts or purposes, conjunct with a minding of earthly
things. 4. Deal faithfully with every truth which you receive.
Take heed of subjecting it to carnal interests : if once you have af
fections that can master your understandings, you are lost, and know
it not. For when you have a resolution to cast off any duty, you
will first believe it is no duty : and when you must change your
judgment for carnal advantages, you will make the change seem
reasonable and right : and evil shall be proved good when you have
a mind to follow it. 5. Make Gospel-truths your own, by daily
humble studies, arising to such a soundness of judgment, that you
may not need to take too much upon trust, lest if your guides
should miscarry, you miscarry with them. Deliver not up your
understanding in captivity to any. 6. Yet do not over-value your
own understandings. This pride hath done that in church and state,
which all discerning men are lamenting. They that know but lit
tle, see not what they want, as well as what they have ; nor that
imperfection in their knowledge, which should humble them, nor
that difficulty in things which should make them diligent and mo
dest. 7. Apprehend the necessity and usefulness of Christ's offi-

EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 2 7 1
ceiSj order, and ordinances, for the prosperity of his church : pas
tors must guide you, though not seduce you, or lead you blindfold.
But choose (if you may) such as are judicious and not ignorant,
not rash but sober, not formal, but serious and spiritual ; not of
carnal, but heavenly conversations : especially avoid them that di
vide and follow parties, and seek to draw disciples to themselves,
and can sacrifice the church's unity and peace to their proud hu
mors or carnal interests. Watch carefully that no weaknesses of
the minister, do draw you to a disesteem of the ordinances of God ;
nor any of the sad miscarriages of professors, should cause you to
set less by truth or godliness. Wrong not Christ more, because
other men have so wronged him. Quarrel more with your own
unfitness and unworthiness in ordinances, than with other men's.
It is the frame of your own heart that doth more to help or hinder
your comforts, than the quality of those you join with. To these
few directions, added to the rest in this book, I shall subjoin my
hearty prayers, that you may receive from that Gospel, and minis
try which you have owned, such stability in the faith, such victory
over the flesh and the world, such apprehensions of the love of
God in Christ, such direction in every strait and duty, that you
may live uprightly, and die peaceably, and reign gloriously. Amen.
Your servant in the faith
and Gospel of Christ,
RICHARD BAXTER.
May 9, 1653.

TO THE

POOR 11\ SPIRIT.

My dearly beloved fellow christians, whose souls are taken up
with the careful thoughts of attaining and maintaining peace with
God, who are vile in your own eyes, and value the blood and
Spirit, and word of your Redeemer, and the hope of the saints in
their approaching blessedness, before all the pomp and vanities of
this world, and resolve to give up yourselves to his conduct, who
is become " the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey
him :" for you do I publish the following directions, and to you it
is that I direct this preface. The only glorious and infinite God
who made the worlds and upholdeth them by his word, who is at
tended with millions of his glorious angels, and praised continually
by his heavenly hosts; who pulleth down the mighty from their
seats, and scattereth the proud in the imaginations of their hearts,
maketh his enemies lick the dust ; to whom the kings and con
querors of the earth are as the most silly worms, and the whole world
is nothing, and lighter than vanity, which he will shortly turn into
flames before your eyes ; this God hath sent me to you, with that
joyful message, which needs no more but your believing entertain
ment, to make it sufficient to raise you from the dust, and banish
those terrors and troubles from your hearts, and help you to live
like the sons of God. He commandeth me to tell you, that he
takes notice of your sorrows. He stands by when you see him not,
and say, he hath forsaken you. He minds you with the greatest
tenderness, when you say, he hath forgotten you. He numbereth
your sighs. He bottles up your tears. The groans of your heart

TO THE POOH IN SPIRIT. 273
do reach his own. He lakes it unkindly, that you are so sus
picious of him, and that all that he hath done for you in the work
of redemption, and all the gracious workings of his Spirit on your
souls, and all your own peculiar experiences of his goodness, can
raise you to no higher apprehensions of his love ! Shall not love
be acknowledged to be love, when it is grown to a miracle ? When
it surpasseth comprehension ! Must the Lord set up love and
mercy in the work of redemption, to be equally admired with his
omnipotency manifested in the creation ? And call forth the world
to this sweet employment, that in secret and in public it might be
the business of our lives? And yet shall it be so overlooked or ques
tioned, as if you lived without love and mercy in the world ? Pro
vidence doth its part, by heaping up mountains of daily mercies ;
and these it sets before your eyes. The gospel hath eminently
done its part by clearly describing them, and fully assuring them,
and this is proclaimed frequently in your ears. And yet is there
so little in your hearts and mouths? Do you see, and hear, and
feel and taste mercy and love ? Do you live wholly on it ? And
yet do you still doubt of it ? and think so meanly of it, and so hard
ly acknowledge it? God takes not this well; but yet he consider
ed) your frailty, and takes you not at the worst. He knows that
flesh will play its part, and the remnants of corruption will not be
;dle. And the serpent will be suggesting false thoughts of God,
will be still striving most -to obscure that part of his glory which is
dearest to him, and especially which is most conjoined with the
happiness of man. He knows also, that sin will breed sorrows
and fears ; and that man's understanding is shallow, and all his
conceivings of God are exceeding low. And that we are so far
from God as creatures, and so much further as sinners, and espe
cially as conscious ofthe abuse of his grace, that there must needs
follow such a strangeness as will damp and dull our apprehensions
of his love; and such an abatement of our confidence, as will
make us draw back, and look at God afar off. Seeing therefore
that at this distance no full apprehensions of love can be expected,
it is the pleasure of our Redeemer shortly to return, with ten thou
sand of his saints, with the noble army of his martyrs, and the at-
tendance'of his angels, and to give you such a convincing demon-
Vol. I. 35

274 TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT.
stration of his love, as shall leave no room for one more doubt.
Your cotoforts are now but a taste, they shall be then a feast.
They are now but intermittent, they shall be then continual. How
soon now do your conquered fears return ; and what an incon
stancy and unevenness is there in our peace. But then our peace
must needs be perfect and permanent, when we shall please God,
and enjoy him in perfection to perpetuity. Certainly, christians,
your comforts should be now more abundant, but that they are not
ripe. It is that, and not this, that is your harvest. I have told
you in another book, the mistake and danger of expecting too
much here, and the necessity of looking arid longing for that rest,
if we will have peace indeed ! But, alas, how hard is this lesson
learned ! Unbelievers would have happiness, but how fain would
they have it in the creature rather than in God ! Believers would
rather have their happiness in God than in the creature, but how
fain Would they have it without dying ! And no wonder, for when
sin brought in deaths even grace itself cannot love it, though it may
submit to it. But though churlish death do stand in our way, why
lobk we not at the souls, admittance into rest, and the body's resur
rection that must shortly follow ? Doubtless that faith by which we
are justified and saved, as it sits down on the word of truth as the
present ground of its confident repose, so doth it thence look with
one eye backward on the cross, and the other forward on the
crown. And if we well observe the scripture descriptions of that
faith, we shall find them as frequently magnifying it, and describing
it, from the latter; as from the former. As it is the duty and
glory of faith to look back with thankful acknowledgment to a-cru-
pified Christ, and his payment of our ransom, so it is the duty and
glory of that same justifying faith to look forward with desire and hope
to tbe return of king Jesus, and the glorious celebration of the mar
riage ofthe Lamb, and the sentential justification and the glorification
of his saints. To believe these things unfeignedly which we never
saw, nor ever spoke with man that did see, and to hope for them so
really as to let go all present forbidden pleasures, and all. worldly
hopes and seeming happiness, rather than to hazard the loss of them ;
this is an eminent part of that faith by which the just do live, and
which the scriptures do own as justifying and saving. For'it never

TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 275
distinguishes between justifying faith, as to their nature. It is there
fore a great mistake of some to look only at that one eye of justify
ing faith which looks back upon the. cross, and a great mistake of
them on the other hand that look only at that eye of it which beholds
the crown. Both Christ crucified, and Christ interceding, and
Christ returning to justify and glorify, are the objects even of jus
tifying, saving faith, most strictly so called. The scripture oftex-
presseth the one only, but then it still' implieth the other. The So-
cinians erroneously therefore from Heb. xi. where the examples and
eulogies of faith are set forth, do exclude Christ crucified, or the
respect to his satisfaction, from justifying faith, and place it in a
mere expectation of glory. And others do as ungroundedly affirm,
that it is not the justifying act of faith which Heb. xi. describeth,
because they find not the cross of Christ there mentioned. For
as believing in Christ's blood comprehendeth the end, even the
expectation of remission and glory merited by that blood, so the toe*
Jieving of that glory doth always imply that we believe and expect
it as the fruit of Christ's ransom. It is for health and life that we
accept and trust upon our physcian. And it is for justification and
salvation that we accept and trust on Christ. The salvation of our
souls is the end of our faith. They that question whether we may
believe and obey for our own salvation, do question whether we may
go to the physician and follow his advice for health and life. Why
then do you that are believers so much forget the end of your faith,
and that for which it is that you believe ? Believing in Christ for
present mercies only, be they temporal or spiritual, is not the true
believing. They are dangerously mistaken that think the thoughts
of heaven to be so accidental to the nature and work of faith, as that
they tend only to our comfort, and are not necessary to salvation it
self. It is upon your apprehensions and expectations of that un
seen felicity that both your peace and safety do depend. How
contrary therefore is it to the nature of a believer, to forget the
place of his rest and consolation ! And to look for so much of these
from the creatures, in this our present pilgrimage and prison, as,
alas, too commonly we do ! Thus do we kill our comforts, and
then complain for want of them. How should you have any life
or constancy of consolations, that are so seldom, so slight, so unbe-

276 TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT.
lieving, and so heartless, in your thoughts of heaven ! You know
what a folly it is to expect any peace, which shall not come from
Christ as the fountain. And you must learn as well to understand
what a folly it is to expect any-solid joys, or stable peace, which is
not fetched from heaven, as from the end. O that christians were
careful to live with one eye still on Christ crucified, and the
other on Christ coming in glory! If the everlasting' joys were more
in your believing thoughts, spiritual joys would more abound at
present in your hearts. It is no more wonder that you are com
fortless when heaven is forgotten, or doubtingly remembered, than
you are faint when you eat not, or cold when you stir not, or
when you have not fire or clothes.
But when christians do not only let fall their expectations of the
things unseen, but also heighten their expectations from the crea
ture, then do they most infallibly prepare for their fears and troub
les, and estrangedness from God, and with both hands draw calami
ties on their souls. Who ever meets with a distressed, complaining
soul, where one or both of these is not apparent ; their low ex
pectations from God hereafter, or their high expectations from the
creature now ? What doth keep us under such trouble and disquiet-
ness, but that we will not expect what God hath promised, or we
will needs expect what he promised not ? And then we complain
when we miss of those expectations which we foolishly and un-
groundedly raised to ourselves. We are grieved for crosses, for
losses, for wrongs from our enemies, for unkind or unfaithful deal
ings of our friends, for sickness, for contempt and digesteem in the
world ! But who bid you look for any better ? Was it prosperity and
riches, and credit, and friends, that God called you to believe for ?
or that you became christians for? or that you had an absolute prom
ise of in the word ? If you will make promises to yourself, and then
your own promises deceive you, whom should you blame for that ?
Nay, do we not, as it were, necessitate God hereby to embitter all
our comforts here below, and to make every creature as a scorpion
to us, because we will needs make them our petty deities ? We
have less comfort in them than else we might have, because we
must needs have more than we should have. You might have
more faithfulness from your friends, more reputation in the world,

TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 277
more sweetness in all your present enjoyments, if you looked for
less. Why is it that you can scarce name a creature near you,
that is not a scourge to you, but because you can scarce name one
diat is not your idol, or at least which you do not expect more
from than you ought ? Nay, (which is one of the saddest consider
ations of this kind that can be imagined) God is fain to scourge us
most even by the highest professors of religion, because we have
most idolized them, and had such excessive expectations from
them. One would have thought it next to an impossibility, that
such men, and so many of them, could ever have been drawn to
do that against the church, against that gospel-ministry and ordi
nances of God (which once seemed dearer to them than their
lives) which hath since been done, and which yet we fear. But a
believing eye, can discern the reason of this sad providence in part.
Never men were more idolized, and therefore no wonder if were
never so afflicted by any. Alas, when will we learn by scripture
and proyidence so to know God and the creature, as to look for
far more from him, and less from them ! We have looked for won
ders from Scotland, and what is come of it ? We looked that war
should have even- satisfied our desires, and when it had removed all
visible impediments, we thought we should have had such a glo
rious reformation as die world never knew! And now behold
a Babel, and a mangled deformation ! What high expectations
had we from an assembly ! What expectations from a parliament !
And where are they now ? O hear the word of the Lord, ye
low-spirited people ! " Cease ye from man, whose breath is in
his nostrils : for wherein is he to be accounted of;" Isa. ii. 22.
" Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm,
and whose heart departeth from the Lord ; for he shall be like^the
heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh. Blessed
is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is. For
he shall be as a tree planted by the waters," &ic. ; Jer. xvii. 5 — 8.
"Surely men of low degree are vanity ; and men of high degree
are a lie. To be laid in the balance they are altogether lighter
than vanity ;" Psal. lxii. 9. Let me warn you all, for the time
to come, to take the creature as a creature ; remember its frailty ;
look for no more from it than its part, f If you have the nearest,

278 TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT.
dearest, godly friends, expect to feel the sting of their corruptions,
as well as to taste the sweetness of their grace. And they must ex
pect the like from you.
If you ask me why I speak so much of these things here ? It is,
I. Because I find that much of the trouble of ordinary Christians
comes from their crosses in the creature, and the frustration of
these their sinful expectations. 2. And because I haye said so lit
tle of it in the following directions, they being intended for the cure
of another kind of trouble, therefore I have said thus much here of
this. Having premised this advice, I take myself bound lo add one
thing more ; that is, an apology for the publication of this imper
fect piece, whether just or insufficient other men must judge. I
confess I am so apprehensive ofthe luxuriant fertility, or licentious
ness of the press of late, as being a design of the enemy to bury
and overwhelm in a crowd those judicious, pious, excellent writ
ings, that before were so commonly read by the people, that I
think few men should now print without an apology, much less such
as I. Who hath more lamented this inundation of impertinencies ?
or more accused the ignorance and pride of others, that must needs
disgorge themselves of all their crudities, as if they were such pre
cious conceptions proceeding from the Holy Ghost, that the world
might not, without very great injury, be deprived of ; and it were
pity that all men should not be made partakers of them ? And
how come I to go on in the same fault myself? Truly I have
no excuse or argument, but those ofthe times, necessity, and provi
dence ; which how far they may justify me, I must leave to the
judge. Being in company with a troubled, complaining friend, I
perceived that it must be some standing counsel which might be
frequently perused, that must satisfactorily answer the complaints
that I heard, and not a transient speech, which would quickly slip
away. Being therefore obliged as a pastor, and as a friend, and
as a Christian, to tender my best assistance for relief, I was sud
denly, in the moment of speaking, moved to promise one sheet of
paper, which might be useful to that end. Which promise, when
I attempted to perform, the one sheet lengthened to thirty, and
my one day's (intended) work was drawn out to a just month. I

TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 279
went on far before I had the least thought to let any eye behold it,
except the party for whom I wrote it. But at last I perceived an
impossibility of contracting, and I was presently possessed with con
fident apprehensions, that a copy of those directions might be use
ful to many other of my poor neighbors and friends that needed
them as much. Upon which apprehension I permitted my pen to
run more at large, and to deviate from the case of the party that I
wrote for, and to take in the common case of most troubled, doubt
ing souls. By that time that I had finished it, I received letters
from several parts, from learned and judicious divines importuning
me to print more, having understood my intentions to desist, as hav
ing done too much already, even at first. I confess I was not
much moved by their importunity, till they seconded it with their
arguments ; whereof one was, the experience of the success of
former writings, which might assure me it was not displeasing to*
God. I had many that urged me, I had no one but myself to draw
me back. I apprehended that a writing of this nature might be
useful to the many weak, perplexed Christians through the land.
Two reasons did at first come in against it. The first was, that if
there were no more written on this subject than Dr. Sibbs' " Bruis
ed Reed, and Soul's Conflict," and Mr. Jos. Symonds' "Deserted
Soul's Case and Cure," there need no more. Especially[there
being also Dr. Preston's Works, and many of Perkins', to this use ;
and Mr. Ball, and Mr. Culverwell of Faith, and divers the like.
To this my own judgment answered, that yet these brief directions
might add somewhat that might be useful to the weak, as to the
method of their proceedings, if not to the matter. And my breth
ren stopped my mouth by telling me, that others had written be
fore me of heaven and baptism, and yet my labours were not lost.
Next this, I thought the crudity and weakness of the writing was
such, as should prohibit the publication, it being unfit to thrust upon
the world the hasty, undigested lines, that were written for the use
of one person. To this my thoughts replied, that, 1. For all that,
it might be useful to poor women, and country people, who most
commonly prove the troubled spirits, for whose sakes I wrote it.
Had I writ for the use of learned men, I would have tried to make

280

TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT.

it fitter for their use ; and if 1 could not, I would have suppressed
it. 2. It was my pride that nourished this scruple, which moved
me not to appear so homely to the world, and therefore I cast it
by. One thing more I confess did much prevail with me to make
these papers public, and that is, the Antinomians' common confident
obtrusion of their anti-evangelical doctrines and methods for com
forting troubled souls. They are the most notorious mountebanks
in this art, the highest pretenders, and most unhappy performers,
that most ofthe reformed churches ever knew. And none usually
are more ready to receive their doctrines, than such weak women,
or unskilful people, that being in trouble, are like a sick man in
great pain, who is glad to hear what all can say, and to make trial
of every thing by which he hath any hope of ease. And then there
is so much opium in these mountebanks' Nepenthes, or Antidote of
rest : so many principles of carnal security and presumption, which
tend to the present ease of the patient, whatever follow, that it is
no wonder if some well-meaning Christians do quickly swallow the
bait, and proclaim the rare effects of this medicament, and the ad
mirable skill of this unskilful sect, to the ensnaring of others, espe
cially that are in the like distress. Especially when they meet
with some divines of our own, who do deliver to them some master-
points-of this system of mistakes, which are so necessarily concate
nated to therest, that they may easily see, if they have one, they
must have all, unless they hold contradictions. As to instance in
the doctrine of justification before faith, or the dissolving the obli
gation to punishment, which is nothing but the remission of sin be
fore faith. So that nothing remains since Christ's death (as some)
or since God's decree (as others) but only to have your pardon
manifested, or to be justified in conscience, or (as some phrase it)
to have that justification which is terminated in conscience. There
is a very judicious man, Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, of Newbury,
hath written so excellent well against this error, and in so small
room, being but one sermon, that I would advise all private Chris
tians to get one of them, and peruse it, as one ofthe best, easiest,
cheapest preservatives against the contagion of this part of Antino
mianism.

TO THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 281
I had not troubled the reader with this apology, had I thought
so well of this writing, as to be sufficient apology for itself; or had
I not taken it for a heinous crime to speak idly in print.
For the doctrine here contained, it is of a middle strain, between
(I think) the extremes of some others. I have labored so to build
up peace as not thereby to fortify presumption. And perhaps in
some points you may see my meaning more plainly, which through
the obscurity of former writings, I was misunderstood in. As for
the manner of this writing, I must desire them that expect learning
or exactness, to turn away their eyes, and know, that I wrote it not
for such as they. I use not to speak any thing but plain English
to that sex, or to that use and end, for which I wrote these lines.
I wrote to the utmost verge of my paper, before I thought to make
it public, and so had no room for marginal quotations, (nor time
to transcribe that copy, that I might have room,) nor indeed much
mind of them, if I had both room and time.
As in all the removes of my life I have been still led to that place
or state which was farthest from my own thoughts, and never de
signed or contrived by myself ; so all the writings that yet I have
published, are such as have been by some sudden, unexpected
occasion extorted from me, while those that I most affected have
been stifled in the conception ; and those I have most labored in,
must lie buried in the dust, that I may know it is God that is the
disposer of all. Experience persuadeth me to think, that God,
who hath compelled me hitherto, intendeth to make this hasty
writing a means for the calming of some troubled souls ; which if
he do, I have my end. If I can do nothing to the church's public
peace, either through my own unskilfulness and unworthiness, or
through the prevalency of the malady ; yet will it be my comfort,
to further the peace of the poorest Christian. (Though to the for
mer also I shall contribute my best endeavors, and am with this
sending to the press some few sheets to that end, with our " Wor
cester-shire Agreement.") The full accomplishment of both ; the
subduing of the prince of darkness, confusion, and contention ; the
destroying of that pride, self-esteem, self-seeking, and carnal-
mindedness, which remaining even in the best, are the disturbers
Vol. 1. 36

®82 T0 THE POOR IN SPIRIT.
of all peace ; the fuller discovery ofthe sinfulness of unpeaceable
principles, dispositions, and practices ; the nearer closure of all
true believejs, and the hastening of the churgh's everlasting
peace ; — these are his daily prayers, who is
A zealous desirer of the peace of the
church, and of every faithful soul,
RICHARD BAXTER.
May 7, 1653.

THE

RIGHT METHOD

FOR

A SETTL.ED PEACE OP CONSCIENCE,

AND

SPIRITUAL COMFORT.

It must be understood, that the case here to be resolved is not,
How an unhumbled, profane sinner, that never was convinced of
sin and misery, should be brought to a settled peace of conscience.
Their carnal peace must first be broken, and they must be so far
humbled, as to find the want and worth of mercy, that Christ and
his consolations may not seem contemptible in their eyes. It is
none of my business now, to give any advice for the furthering of
this conviction or humiliation. But the case in hand is, ' How a
sinner may attain to a settled peace of conscience, and some com
petent measure of the joy of the Holy Ghost, who hath been con
vinced of sin and misery, and long made a profession of holiness,
but liveth in continual doubtings of their sincerity, and fears of
God's wrath, because of an exceeding deadness of spirit, and a
want of that love to God, and delight in him, and sweetness in duty,
and witness ofthe Spirit, and communion with God, and the other
like evidences which are "found in the saints.' How far the party
is right or wrong in the discovery of these wants, I now meddle not.

284 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Whether they judge rightly or wrongly, the Directions may be
useful to them. And though I purposely meddle not with the un-
humbled, that feel not the want of Christ and mercy, yet most that
falls may be useful to all that profess the Christian faith. For I
shall study so to avoid the extremes in my doctrinal directions, as
may conduce to your escaping the desperate extremes of unground
ed comforts, and causeless terrors in your own spirit.
Of my directions, the first shall be only general, and the rest
more particular. And all of them I must entreat you, 1. To ob
serve the order and method, as well as the matter ; and that you
would practise them in the same order as I place them. 2. And
to remember that it is not only comfortable words, but it is direc
tions foryour own practice, which here I prescribe you ; and there
fore that it is not the bare reading of them that will cure you ; but
if you mean to have the benefit of them, you must bestow more time
in practising them, than I have done in penning them ; yea, you
must make it the work of your hfe. And let not that startle you,
or seem tedious to you, for it will be no more grievous a work to a
well-tempered soul, than eating or drinking, or sleep, or recreation
is to an healthful body ; and than it is to an honest woman to love
and delight in her husband and her children, which is no grievous
task. Direction I. ' Get as clear a discovery as you can of the true
cause of your doubts and troubles ; for if you should mistake in
the cause, it would much frustrate the most excellent means for
the cure.'
The very same doubts and complaints, may come from several
causes in several persons, and therefore admit not of the same way
of cure. Sometimes the cause begins in the body, and thence
proceedeth to the mind ; sometimes it begins in the mind, and
thence distempereth the body. Sometimes in the mind, it is most,
or first, from worldly crosses, and thence proceedeth to spiritual
things. And of spiritual matters, sometimes it begins upon scru
ples or differences in religion, or points of doctrine ; sometimes
and most commonly, from the sense of our own infirmities ; some
times it is only from ordinary infirmitie's ; sometimes from some
extraordinary decays of inward grace ; sometimes from the neglect

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 285
of some weighty duty ; and sometimes from the deep wounds of
some heinous, secret, or scandalous sin ; and sometimes it is mere
ly from the fresh discovery of that which before we never did dis
cern ; and sometimes from the violent assault of extraordinary
temptations. Which of these is your own case, you must be care
ful to find out, and to apply the means for cure accordingly. Even
of true Christians, the same means will not fit all. The difference
of natures, as well as of actual cases, must be considered. One
hath need of that tender handling, which would undo another ; and
he again hath need of that rousing which another cannot bear. And
therefore understand, that when I have given you all the directions
that I can, I must, in the end hereof, advise you to take the coun
sel of a skilful minister, in applying and making use of them : for
it is in this, as in the case of physic, when we have written the best
books of receipts, or for methodical cures ; yet we must advise peo
ple, to take heed how they use them, without the advice of a learned
and faithful physician ; for medicines must not be only fitted to dis
eases, but to bodies : that medicine will kill one man, which will
cure another ofthe same distemper; such difference there may be
in their age, strength, complexion, and other things. So is it much
in our present case. And therefore, as when all the physic books
in the world are written, and all receipts known, yet will there be
still a necessity of physicians : so when all discoveries and direc
tions are made in divinity, there will still be a necessity of a con
stant standing ministry. And as ignorant women and empirics do
kill ofttimes more than they cure, though they have the best re
ceipts, for want of judgment and experience to use them aright;
so do ignorant teachers and guides by men's souls, though they can
say the same words as a judicious pastor, and repeat the same texts
of Scripture. Not that I mean, that such can do no good : yes,
much no doubt, if they will humbly, compassionately, and faithfully
improve their talents within the verge of .their own calling ; which
if they go beyond, ordinarily a remarkable judgment followeth their
best labors ; both to the churches, and particular souls that make
use of them. And therefore because (if my conjectural prognos
tics fail not, as I daily pray they may) we are like to be more tried
and plagued in this way, than ever were any of our forefathers, since

286 DIRECTIONS FOB. GETTING AND KEEPING
Adam's days, till now : and seeing this is the hour of our tempta
tion, wherein God is purposely separating the chaff, and discover
ing to the world the dangers of injudicious, misguided zeal ; I shall
therefore both first and last advise you, as ever you would have a
settled peace of conscience, keep out of the hand of vagrant and
seducing mountebanks, under what names, or titles, or pretences
soever they may assault you. Especially suspect all that bestow as
much pains to win you to their party, as to win you to Christ.
Direct. II. ' Make as full a discovery as you can, how much of
the trouble of your mind doth arise from your melancholy and bodi
ly distempers, and how much from discontenting afflictions in your
worldly estate, or friends, or name, and according to your dis
covery make use of the remedy.'
I put these two causes of trouble here together in the beginning,
because I will presently dismiss them ; and apply the rest of these
directions only to those troubles that are raised from sins and
wants in grace.
1 . For melancholy, I have by long experience found it to have
so great and common a hand in the fears and troubles of mind, that
I meet with not one of many, that live in great troubles and fears
for any long time together; but melancholy is the main seat of
them; though they feel nothing in their body, but all in their mind.
I would have such persons make use of some able godly physician,
and he will help them to discern how much of their trouble comes
from melancholy. Where this is the cause, usually the party is
fearful of almost every thing; a word, or a sudden thought will
disquiet them. Sometimes they are sad, and scarce know why :
all comforts are of no continuance with them; but as soon as you
have done comforting them, and they be never so well satisfied,
yet the trouble returns in a few days or hours, as soon as the dark
and troubled spirits return to their former force : they are still ad
dicted to musing and solitariness, and thoughts will run in their
minds, that they cannot lay them by : if it go any thing far, they
are almost always assaulted with temptations to blasphemy, to
doubt whether there be a God, or a Christ, or the scriptures be
true ; or whether there be a heaven or a hell ; and oft tempted to
speak some blasphemous words against God ; and this with such

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 287
importunity, that they can hardly forbear ; and ofttimes they are
tempted to make away .themselves. When it goes so far, they are
next the loss of the use of reason, if it be not prevented.
Now to those that find that melancholy is the cause of their
troubles, I would give this advice. 1 . Expect not that rational,
spiritual remedies, should suffice for this cure : for you may as
well expect that a good sermon, or comfortable words, should cure
the falling sickness, or palsy, or a broken head, as to be a sufficien
cure to your melancholy fears ; for this is as real a bodily disease
as the other; only because it works on the spirits and fantasy^ on -
which words of advice do also work, therefore such words, and
scripture and reason, may somewhat resist it, and may palliate or
allay some of the effects at the present; but as soon as time hath
worn off the force and effects of these reasons, the distemper pre
sently returns.
For the humor hath the advantage; (1.) Of continual presence.
(2.) Of a more necessary, natural, and sensible way of working. As
if a man be in an easy lethargy, you may awake him so long as
you are calling on him aloud ; but as soon as you cease, he is asleep
again. Such is the case of the melancholy in their own sorrows;
for it is as natural for melancholy to cause fears and disquietness of
mind, as for phlegm in a lethargy to cause sleep.
Do not therefore, lay the blame on your books, friends, counsels,
instructions (no nor all on your soul) if these troubles be not cured
by words : but labor to discern truly how much of your trouble
comes this way, and then fix in your mind in all your inquiries,
reading, and hearing, that it is the other part of your trouble
which is truly rational, and not this part of it which is from melan
choly, that these means were ordained to remove (though God may
also bless them extraordinarily to do both.) Only constant impor
tunate prayer is a fit and special means for the curing of all.
2. When you have truly found out how much of your disquiet
ness proceeds from melancholy, acquit your soul from that part of
it ; still remember in all your self-examinations, self-judgings, and
reflections on your heart, that it is not directly to be charged with
those sorrows that come from your spleen ; save only remotely, as
all other diseases are the fruits of sin ; as a lethargic dulness is the

288 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
deserved fruit of sin ; but he that should charge it immediately on
his soul, should wrong himself, and he that would attempt the
cure, must do it on the body.
3. If you would have these fears and troubles removed, apply
yourself to the proper cure of melancholy. (1.) Avoid all passion
of sorrow, fear, and anger, as much as you can ; and all occasions,
and discontents and grief. (2.) Avoid much solitariness, and be
most commonly in some cheerful company. Not that I would
have you do as the foolish sinners of the world do, to drink away
melancholy, and keep company with sensual, vain, and unprofitable
persons, that will draw you deeper into sin, and so make your
wound greater instead of healing it, and multiply your troubles
when forced to look back on your sinful loss of time. But keep
company with the more cheerful sort of the godly. There is no
mirth like the mirth of believers, which faith doth fetch from the
blood of Christ, and from the promises of the word, and from ex
periences of mercy, and from the serious fore-apprehensions of our
everlasting blessedness. Converse with men of strongest faith,
that have this heavenly mirth, and can speak experimentally of the
joy of the Holy Ghost ; and these will be a great help to the reviving
of your spirit, and changing your melancholy habit, so far as without a
physician it may be expected. Yet sometimes it may not be amiss
to confer with some that are in your own case, that you may see
that your condition is not singular. For melancholy people, in
such distresses, are ready to think, that never any was in the case
as they are in ; or at least, never any that were truly godly. When
you hear people of the most upright lives, and that truly fear God,
to have the same complaints as you have yourself, it may give you
some hopes that it is not so bad as you before did imagine. How
ever be sure that you avoid solitariness as much as you well can.
(3.) Also take heed of too deep, fixed, musing thoughts ; studying
and serious meditating be not duties for the deeply melancholy (as
I shall shew more in the following directions) ; you must let those
alone till you are better able to perform them, lest by attempting
those duties which you cannot perform, you shal] utterly disable
yourself from all : therefore I would advise you by all means, to
shake and rouse yourself out of such musings, and suddenly to .

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 289
turn your thoughts away to something else. (4.) To this end, be
sure that you avoid idleness and want of employment ; which as it
is a life not pleasing to God, so it is the opportunity for melancholy
thoughts to be working, and the chiefest season for satan to tempt
you. Never let the devil find you unemployed, but see that you
go cheerfully about the works of your calling, and follow it with dil
igence ;.- and that time which you redeem for spiritual exercises,
let it be most spent in thanksgiving, and praises, and heavenly con
ference. These things may do much for prevention and abating your
disease, if it be not gone too far ; but if it be, you were best have
recourse to the physician, and expect God's blessing in the use of
means; and you will find when' your body is once cured, the dis-
quietness of your mind will vanish of itself.
2. The second part of this direction was, that you take notice
how much of your disquietness may proceed from outward cross
es; for it is ordinary for these to lie at the root,, and bring the heart
into disquiet and discohtent, and then trouble for sin doth follow
after. Alas, how oft have I seen verified that of the apostle ; 2,
Cor. vii. 10. " Tbe. sorrow of the world worketh death." How
many, even godly people have I known, that through crosses in
children, or in friends, or losses in estates, or wrongs from men,
or perplexities that through some unadvisedness they were cast in
to, or the like, have fallen into mortal disease, or into such a fixed
melancholy, that some of them have gone beside themselves ; and
others have lived in fears and doubting' ever after, by the removal
of the disquietness to their consciences? How sad a thing is it, that
we should thus add to our own afflictions ? And the heavier we
judge the burden, the more we lay on !" As if God had not done
enough, or would not sufficiently afflict us. We may more com
fortably bear that which God layeth on us, than that which we im
mediately lay upon ourselves! Crosses are not great or small, ac
cording to the bulk of the matter, but according chiefly to the mind
of the sufferer.. Or else, how could holy men " rejoice in tribula
tion, and be exceeding glad that they are accounted worthy to
suffer for Christ?" Reproaches, wrongs, losses, are all without
you ; unless you open them the door willfully yourself, thev cannot
Vol. I. 37

290 DIRECTIONS- FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
come into the heart. God hath not put the joy or grief of your
heart in any other man's power, but in your own. It is you there
fore that do yourselves the greatest mischief. God afflicts your
body, or men wrong you in your state or name (a small hurt if it
go no further) and therefore you wilLafflict your soul ! But a sadder
thing yet is it to consider of, that men fearing God should so highly
value the things of the world. They who in their covenants with
Christ, are engaged to renounce the world, the flesh, and the devil !
They that have taken God in Christ for their portion, for their
all; and have resigned themselves and all that they have to Christ's
dispose ! Whose very business in this world, and their christian life,
consisteth so much in resisting the devil, mortifying the flesh, and
overcoming the world! And it is God's business in his inward
works of grace, and his outward teachings, aud sharp afflictions,
and examples of others, to convince {hem ofthe vanity and vexa
tion of the world, and thoroughly to wean them from it ; and yet
that it should be so high in their estimation, and sit so close to their
hearts, that they cannot bear the loss of it without such discontent,
disquiet, and distraction of mind ! Yea, though when all is gone,
they have their God left them, they have their Christ still, whom
they took for their treasure ; they have opportunities for their souls,
they have the sure promise of glory, yea, and a promise, that
"all things shall work together for their good ;" yea, and for that
one thing that is taken from them, they have yet an hundred out
ward mercies remaining, that yet even believers should have so
much unbelief! and have their faith to seek, when they should use
it, and live by it ! And that God should seem so small in their eye,
as not to satisfy or quiet them, unless they have the world with
him ; and that the world should still seem so amiable, when God
hath done so much to bring it into contempt ! Truly this (and more)
shews that the work of mortification is very imperfect in professors,
and that we bend not the force of our daily strivings and endeavors
that way. If christians did bestow as much time and pains in mor
tifying the flesh, and getting down the interest of it in the soul,
that Christ's interest may be advanced, as they do about contro
versies, external duties, formalities, tasks of devotion, and self-tor
menting fears, O what excellent christians should we then be ! And

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 291
how happily would most of our disquiets be removed ; Alas, if we
are so unfit to part with one outward comfort now, upon the dispo
sal of our Father's providence, how should we forsake all for
Christ ? O what shall we do at death, when all must be parted
with ! As ever therefore you would live in true christian peace, set
more by Christ, and less by the world, and all things in it; and
hold all that you possess so loosely, that it may not be grievous to
you when you must leave them.
So much for the troubles that arise from your body and outward
state. All the rest shall be directed for the curing of those trou
bles that arise immediately from more spiritual causes.
Direct. HI. ' Be sure that you first lay sound apprehensions of
God's nature in your understanding, and lay them deeply.'
This is the first article of your creed, and the first part of " life
eternal, to know God !" His substance is quite past human un
derstanding ; therefore never make any attempt to reach to the
knowledge of it, or to have any positive conceivings of it, for they
will be all but idols, or false conceptions ; but his attributes are
manifested to our understandings. Well consider, that even un
der the terrible law, when God proclaims to Moses his own name,
and therein his nature, Exod, xxxiv. 6, 7. the first and greatest
part is, " The Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering,
and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands,
forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." And he hath sworn,
" That he hath no pleasure in the death of a sinner, but rather that
he return and live." Think not therefore of God's mercifulness,
with diminishing, extenuating thoughts, nor limit it by the bounds
of our frail understandings ; For the heavens are not so far above
the earth, as his thoughts and ways are above ours. Still remem
ber that you must have no low thoughts of God's goodness, but
apprehend it as bearing proportion with his power. As it is blas
phemy to limit his power, so it is to limit his goodness. The ad
vantages that your soul will get by this right knowledge, and estima
tion of God's goodness, will be these.
1 . This will make God appear more amiable in your eyes, and
then you will love him' more readily and abundantly. And love, (1.)
Is effectually consolatory in the very workihg ; so much love, usu-

202 DIRECTIONS FOR 6ETTING AND KEEPING
ally so much comfort, (I mean this love of complacency ; for a
love of desire there may be without comfort). (2.) "It will breed
persuasions of God's love to you again, and so comfort. (3.) It
will be an unquestionable evidence of true grace, and so comfort.
The affections follow the understanding's conceptions. If you
think of God as one that is glad of all advantages against you, and
delighted! in his creatures' misery, it is impossible you should love
him. The love of yourselves is so deeply rooted in nature, that
we cannot lay it by, nor love any thing that is absolutely and di
rectly against us. We conceive of the devil as an absolute enemy
to God and- man, and one that seeks our destruction, and therefore
we cannot love him. And the great cause "why troubled souls do
love God no more, is because they represent him to themselvesin
an ugly odious shape. To think of God as one that seeks and de-
lighteth in man's ruin, is to make him as the devil. And then what
wonder if instead of loving him, and delighting- in him, you trem
ble at the thoughts of him, and fly from him. As I have observed
children, when they have seen the devil painted on flie wall, in an
ugly shape, they have partly feared, and partly hated it. If you
do so by God in your fancy, it is not putting the name of God on
him when you have done, that Will reconcile your affections lo him
as long as you strip him of his divine nature. Remember the Ho
ly Ghost's description of God, 1 John iv. 16. " God is love." —
Write these words deep in your understanding.
2. Hereby you will have this advantage also, that your thoughts
of God will be more sweet and delightful to you. For as glorious
and beautiful sights to your eyes, and melodious sounds to your
ears, and sweet smells, tastes, fee. are all delightful : when things
deformed, stinking, &c. are all loathsome, and we turn away from
one with abhorrency, but for the other, we would often see, taste,
&e. and enjoy them. So it is with the objects of our mind ; God
hath given no command for duty, but what most perfectly agreeth
with the nature of the object. He hath therefore bid us love God
and delight in him above all, because he is above all in goodness ;
even infinitely and inconceivably good ; else we could not love him
above all, nor would he ever command us so to do. The object is
as ever exactly fitted to its pari, as lo.draw out the love and delight

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 293
of our hearts, as the precept is on its part, to oblige us to it. And
indeed the nature of things is a precept to duty, and it which we
call the law of nature.
3. Hereupon will follow this further advantage, that your
thoughts will be both more easily drawn toward God, and more
frequent and constant on him ; for delightful objects draw the heart
to them, as the loadstone doth the iron. How gladly, and freely,
and frequently do you think of your dearest friends. And if you
did firmly conceive of God, as one that is ten thousand times more
gracious, loving and amiable than any friend you have in the world,
it would make you not- only to love him above all friends, but also
more freely, delightfully, and unweariedly to think of him.
4. And then you would hence have this further advantage, that
you would have less backwardness to any duty, and less weariness
in duty ; you would find more delight in prayer, meditation, and
speech of God, when once God himself were more lovely and de
lightful in your eyes.
5.- All these advantages would produce a further, that is, the
growth of all your graces. For it is impossible, but this growth of
love, and frequent and delightful thoughts of God, and addresses to
him, should cause an increase of all the rest.
6. Hereupon your evidences would be more clear and discerni
ble. For grace in strength and action would be easily found ; and
would not this resolve all your doubts at once ?
7. Yea, the very exercise of these several graces would be com
fortable. 8. And hereupon you would have more humble familiarity and
communion with God ; for love, delight, and " frequent addresses,
would overcome strangeness and disacquaintance, which make us
fly from God, as a fish, or bird, or wild beast, will from the face of
a man, and would give us access with boldness and confidence.
And this would banish sadness and terror, as the sun dispelleth
darkness and cold.
9. At least you would hence have this advantage, that the fixed
apprehension of God's goodness and merciful nature, would cause
a fixed apprehension of the probability of your happiness, as long as
you are willing to be happy in God's way. For reason will tell you,

294 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
that he who is love itself, and whose goodness is equal to his al-
mightiness, and who hath sworn, that he hath no pleasure in the
death of a sinner, but rather that he repent and live, will not de
stroy a poor soul that lieth in submission at his feet, and is so far
from resolved rebellion against him, that he grieveth that it is no
better, and can please him no more.
10. However, these right apprehensions of God would overcome
those terrors which are raised only by false apprehensions of him.
And doubtless a very great part of men's causeless troubles, are
raised from such misapprehepsionsof God. For Satan knows, that
if he can bring you to think of God as a cruel tyrant and blood
thirsty man-hater, then he can drive you from him in terror, and
turn all your love and cheerful obedience into hatred and slavish
fear. I say therefore again do not only get, but also fix deep in
your understanding, the highest thoughts of God's natural goodness
and graciousness that you possibly can raise. For when they are
at the highest, they come short ten thousand fold.
Object. ' But God's goodness lieth not in mercy to men, as I
have read in great divines ; he may be perfectly good, though he
should for ever torment the most innocent creatures.'
Answ. These are ignorant, presumptuous intrusions into that
which is unsearchable. Where doth scripture say as you say ?
Judge of God as he revealeth himself, or you will but delude your
self, and abuse him. All his works represent him merciful ; for
"his mercy is over all his works," and legible in them all. His
word saith, " he is good, and doth good ;" Psalm cxix. 68. cxlv.
9. How himself doth proclaim his own name, (Exod. xxxiv.
6. 7,) I told you before. The most merciful men are his liveliest
image; and therefore he plants mercy in them in their conversion,
as a principal part of their new nature. And commands of merci
fulness are a great part of his law ; and he bids us " be merciful, as
our heavenly Father is merciful ;" Luke vi. 36. Now if this were
none of his nature, how could he be the pattern of our new nature
herein ? And if he were not infinitely merciful himself, how could
we be required to be merciful as he is ? Who dare say, « I am
more merciful than God ?'
Object. 'But God -is just as well as merciful ; and for all his
merciful nature, he will damn most of the world forever in hell.'

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 295
Answ. 1. But James saith, "Mercy rcjoiccth against judg
ment;" James ii. 13. 2. God is necessarily the governor of the
world (while there is a world,) and therefore must govern it in
justice, and so must not suffer his mercy to be perpetually abused
by wickeck, wilful, contemptuous sinners. But then consider two
things: (1.) That he destroyeth not humble souls that lie at his feet,
and are willing to have mercy on his easy terms, but only the stub
born despisers of his mercy. He damneth none but those that will
not be saved in his way ; that is, that will not accept of Christ and
salvation freely given them. (I speak of those that hear the gos
pel ; for others, their case is more unknown to us.) And is it any
diminution to his infinite mercy, that he will not save those that will
not be entreated to accept of salvation? (2.) And consider how long
he useth to wait on sinners, and even beseech them to be reconciled
to him, before he destroyeth them ; and that he heapeth up multi
tudes of mercies on them, even in .their rebellion, to draw them to
repentance, and so to life. And is it unmercifulness yet if such
men perish?
Object. ' But if God were so infinite in mercy, as you say, why
doth he not makecall these men willing, that so they may be saved ?'
Answ. God having created the world and all things in it, at first,
did make them in a certain nature and order, and so establish them
as by a fixed law ; and he thereupon is their governor, to govern
every thing according to its nature. Now man's nature was, to be
principled with an inclination to his own happiness, and to be led to
it by objects in a moral way, and in the choice of means to be a
free agent, and the guider of himself under God. As governor of
the rational Greature, God doth continue that same course of ruling
them by laws, and drawing them by ends and. objects as their na
tures do require. And in this way he is not wanting to them ; his
laws are now laws of grace, and universal in the tenor of the free
gift and promise, for he hath there given life in Christ to all that will
have it ; and the objects propounded are sufficient in their kind, to
work even the most wonderful effects on men's souls, for they are
God himself, and Christ and glory. Besides, God giveth men na
tural faculties, that they may have the use of reason ; and there is
nothing more unreasonable than to. refuse this offered mercy. He

296 DIRECTIONS FOR GF.TTING AND KF.EP1NC
giveth inducing arguments in the written word, and sermons, and
addeth such mercies and afflictions, that one should think should bow
the hardest heart. Besides, the strivings and motions of his Spirit
within,, are more than we can give an account of. Now is not this
as much as belongs to God as governor of the creature-aceordiiig
to its nature ? And for the giving of a new nature, and creating new
hearts in men, after all their rebellious rejecting of grace, this is
a certain miracle of mercy, and belongs to God in another relation
(even as the free chooser of his elect) and not directly as the gov
ernor of the universe. This is from his special providence, and
the former from his general. Now special providences are not to
be as common as the general, nor to subvert God's ordinary, es"
tablished course of government. If God please to stop Jordan,
and dry up the Red Sea for the passage of the Israelites, and to
cause the sun to stand still for Joshua, must he. do so still for every
man in- the world, or else be accounted unmerciful? The sense of
this objection is plainly this, God is not so rich in mercy, except he
will new make all the world, or govern it above its nature. Sup
pose a king know his subjects to be so wicked, that they have eve
ry one a full design to famish or kill themselves* or poison them
selves with something which is enticing by its sweetness, tbe king
notonly makes a law, stricdy charging them all to forbear to touch
that poison, but he sendeth special messengers to entreat them to it,
and tell them the danger. If theso men will not hear him, but
wilfully poison themselves, is he therefore unmerciful ? But sup
pose that he hath three or four of his sons that are infected with
the same - wickedness, and he will not only command and entreat
them, but he will lock them up, or keep the poison from them, or
will feed them by violence with better food, is he unmerciful unless
he will do so by all the rest of his kingdom ?
--Lastly. If all this will not satisfy you ; consider, (1.) That it is
most certain God is love, and infinite in mercy, and hath no pleas
ure in the death of sinners. (2.) But it is utterly uncertain to us
how God worketh on man's will inwardly by his Spirit. (3.) Or yet
what intolerable inconvenience there may be if God should work
in other ways; therefore we must not upon such uncertainties deny
certainties, nor from some unreasonable scruples about-the manner

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. £97
of God's working grace, deny the blessed nature of God, which
himself hath most evidently proclaimed to the world.
I have said the more of this, because I find Satan harp so much
on this string with many troubled souls, especially on the advantage
of some common doctrines. For false doctrine still tends to the
overthrow of solid peace and comfort. Remember therefore before
all other thoughts for the obtaining of peace, to get high thoughts of
the gracious and lovely nature of God.
Direct. IV. Next this, ' Be sure that you deeply apprehend
the gracious nature, disposition, and office, of the Mediator Jesus
Christ.' Though there can no more be said of the gracious nature of the
Son than of the Father's, even that his goodness is infinite ; yet
these two advantages this consideration will add unto the former.
1. You will see here goodness and mercy in its condescension, and
nearer to you than in the divine nature alone it was. Our thoughts
of God are necessarily more strange, because of our infinite distance
from the Godhead ; and therefore our apprehensions of God's good
ness will be the less working, because less familiar. But in Christ,
God is come down into our nature, and so Infinite goodness and
mercy is incarnate. The man Christ Jesus is able now to save to
the utmost all that come to God by him. We have a merciful
High-Priest that is acquainted with our infirmities. 2. Herein we
see the will of God putting forth itself for our help in the most as
tonishing way that could be imagined. Here is more than merely
a gracious inclination. It is an office of saving and shewing mercy
also that Christ hath undertaken ; even " to seek and to save that
which was lost;" to bring home straying souls to God ; to be
the great Peace-maker between God and man, to reconcile God
to man, and man to God ; and so to be the Head and Husband of
his people. Certainly the devil strangely wrongeth poor, troubled
souls in this point, that he can bring them to have such hard, suspi
cious thoughts of Christ, and so much to overlook the glory of mer
cy which so shineth in the face of the Son of Mercy itself. How
can we more contradict the nature of Christ, and the Gospel de
scription of him, than to think him a destroying hater of his crea
tures, and one that watcheth for our halting, and hath more mind to
Vol. I. 38

298 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEmNC
hurt us than to help us ? How could he have manifested more
willingness to save, and more tender compassion to the souls of
men, than he hath fully manifested ? That the Godhead should
condescend to assume our nature is a thing so wonderful, even to
astonishment, that it puts faith to it to apprehend it ; for it is ten
thousand times more condescension than for the greatest king to
become a fly or a toad to save such creatures. And shall we ever
have low and suspicious thoughts of the gracious and merciful na
ture of Christ, after so strange and full a discovery of it ? If twen
ty were ready to drown in the sea, and if one that were able to swim
and fetch all out, should cast himself into the water, and offer them
his help, were it not foolish ingratitude for any to say, ' I know not
yet whether he be willing to help me or not ;' and so to have jeal
ous thoughts of his good will, and so perish in refusing his help ?
How tenderly did Christ deal with all sorts of sinners. He pro
fessed that he "came not into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world through him might be saved." Did he weep
over a rejected, unbelieving people, and was he desirous of their
desolation ? " How oft would he have gathered them as a hen
gathereth her chickens under her wings (mark, that he would have
done this for them that he cast off) and they would not ?" When
his disciples would have had " fire come down from heaven to con
sume those that refused him," he reproves them, and tells them,
" They knew not what spirit they were of," (the common case of
them that miscarry, by suffering their zeal to overrun their Christian
wisdom and meekness). Yea, he prayeth for his crucifiers, and
that on the cross, not forgetting them in the heat of his sufferings.
Thus he doth by the wicked ; but to those that follow him, his ten
derness is unspeakable, as you would have said yourself, if you had
but stood by and seen him washing his disciples' feet, and wiping
them ; or bidding Thomas put his finger into his side, " and be
not faithless, but believing." Alas ! that the Lord Jesus should
come from heaven to earth, from glory into human flesh, and pass
through a life of misery to a cross, and from the cross to the grave,
to manifest openly to the world the abundance of his love, and the
tenderness of his heart to sinners ; and that after all this, we should
suspect him of cruelty, or hard-heartedness and unwillingness to

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 299
shew mercy ; and that the devil can so far delude us, as to make
us think ofthe Lamb of God as if he were a tiger or devourer !
But I will say no more of this, because Dr. Sibbs, in his " Bruis
ed Reed," hath said so much already. Only remember, that if
you would methodically proceed to the attaining of solid comfort,
this is the next stone that must be laid. You must be deeply pos
sessed with apprehensions of the most gracious nature and office of
the Redeemer, and the exceeding tenderness of his heart to lost
sinners. Direct. V. The next step in right order to comfort is this :
' You must believe and consider the full sufficiency of Christ's sac
rifice and ransom for all.'
The controversies about this you need not be troubled at. For
as almost all confess this sufficiency, so the Scripture itself, by the
plainness and fulness of its expression, makes it as clear as the light,
that Christ died for all. The fuller proof of this I have given
you in public, and shall do yet more publicly, if God will. If Sa
tan would persuade you either that no ransom or sacrifice was ever
given for you, or that therefore you have no Redeemer to trust in,
and no Saviour to believe in, and no sanctuary to fly to from the
wrath of God, he must first prove you either to be no lost sinner, or
to be a final, impenitent unbeliever ; that is, that you are dead al
ready ; or else he must delude your understanding, to make you
think that Christ died not for all ; and then I confess he hath a sore
advantage against your faith and comfort.
Direct. VI. The next thing in order to be done is this : ' Get
clear apprehensions of the freeness, fulness, and universality of the
new covenant or law of grace."
I mean the promise of remission, justification, adoption, and sal
vation to all, so they will believe. No man on earth is excluded
in the tenor of this covenant. And therefore certainly you are not
excluded ; and if not excluded, then you must needs be included.
Shew where you are excluded if you can ! You will say, ' But
for all this, all men are not justified and saved.' Answ. True, be
cause they will not be persuaded to accept the mercy that is freely
given them.
The use that I would have you make of this, I will shew in the
next.

300 DIRECTIONS FCR GETTING AND KEEPING
Direct. VII. ' You must get the right understanding of the dif
ference between general grace and special. And between the pos
sibility, probability, conditional certainty, and absolute certainty
of your salvation. And so between the comfort on the former
ground and on the latter.'
And here I shall open to you a rich mine of consolation.
Understand, therefore, that as every particular part of the house
is built on the foundation, so is every part of special grace built on
general grace. Understand also, that all the four last mentioned
particulars do belong to this general grace. As also, that though no
man can have absolute certainty of salvation, from the consideration
of this general grace alone, yet may it afford abundance of relief to
distressed souls, yea, rauch true consolation. Lastly, Understand
that all that hear the Gospel may take part in this consolation, though
they have no assurance of their salvation at all, no nor any special,
saving grace.
Now when you understand these things well, this is the use that
I would have you make of them.
1. Do not begin the way to your spiritual peace byjnquiring af
ter the sincerity of your graces, and trying yourselves by signs.
Do not seek out for assurance of salvation in the first place, nor do
not look and study after the special comforts which come from cer
tainty of special grace, before you have learned, (1.) To perform
the duty. (2.) And to receive the comforts which general grace
affordeth. Such unmethodical, disorderly proceedings keep
thousands of poor, ignorant Christians in darkness and trouble al
most all their days. Let the first thing you do, be to obey the voice
of the Gospel, which calleth you to accept of Christ and special
mercy. " This is the record, that God hath given us eternal life,
and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life." Fix
this deep in your mind, that the nature ofthe Gospel is first to de
clare to our understandings the most gracious nature, undertakings,
and performances of Christ for us, which must be believed to be
true : and secondly to offer this Christ with all his special mercy to
eveiy man to whom this Gospel comes, and to entreat them to ac
cept Christ and life, which is freely given and offered to them. Re
member then you are a lost sinner. For certain Christ and life in

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 801
him is given and offered to you. Njpw your first work is, presently
to accept it; not to make an unseasonable inquiry, whether Christ
be yours, but to take him that he may be yours. If you were
condemned, and a pardon were freely given you, on condition you
would thankfully take it, and it were offered to you, and you en
treated to take it, what would you do in this case ? Would you
spend your time and thoughts in searching whether this pardon be
already yours ? Or would you not presently take it that it may be
yours ? Or if you were ready to famish, and food were offered
you, would you stand asking first, ' How shall I know that it is
mine ?' Or rather take and eat it, when you are sure it may be
yours if you will. Let me entreat you therefore, when the devil
clamors in your ears, ' Christ and salvation is none of thine,' sup
pose that this voice of God in the Gospel were still in your ears,
yea, let it be still in your memory, ' O take Christ, and life in him,
that thou mayest be saved :' still think that you hear Paul follow
ing you with these words : " We are ambassadors for Christ, as
though God did beseech you by us. We pray you in Christ's stead,
be reconciled to God." Will you but remember this, when you
are on your knees in sorrow ; and when you would fain have Christ
and life, and you are afraid that God will not give them to you ? I
say, remember then, God stands by, beseeching you to accept the
same thing which you are beseeching him to give. God is the first
suitor and solicitor. God prays you to take Christ, and you pray
him to give you Christ. What have you now to do but to take
him ! And here understand, that this taking is no impossible busi
ness; it is no more but your hearty consenting, as I shall tell you
more anon. If you did but well understand and consider, that be
lieving is the great duty that God calls you te perform, and promis
eth to save you if you do truly perform it ; and that this believing
is to take, or consent to have the same mercy which you pray for,
and are troubled for fear lest you shall miss of it, even Christ and
life in him ; this would presently draw forth your consent, and that
in so open and express a way, as you could not but discover it, and
have the comfort of it. Remember this then, That your first work
is to believe, or accept an offered Saviour.
2. You must learn (as I told you) to receive the comforts of uni-

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DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

versal or general grace, before you search after the comforts of
special grace. I here suppose you so far sound in the doctrine of
the Gospel, as neither with some on one hand, to look so much at
special grace, as to deny that general grace, which is the ground of
it, or presupposed to it. Nor with others, so far to look at univer
sal mercy, as to deny special. Satan will tell you, that all your du
ties have been done in hypocrisy, and you are unsound at the heart,
and have not a drop of saving grace. You are apt to entertain this,
and conclude that all this is true : ' If I had any grace, I should
have more life,- and love, and delight in God; more tenderness of
heart, more growth in grace. I should not carry about such a rock
in my breast ; such a stupid, dull, insensible soul,' fee.
At the present, let us suppose that all this be true : yet see what
a world of comfort you may gather from universal or general mer
cy. I have before opened to you four parts of it, in the cause of
your happiness, and three in the effect, which may each of them
afford much relief to your troubled soul.
1 . Suppose you are yet graceless, is it nothing to you that it is a
God of infinite mercy that you have to do with, whose compassions
are ten thousand times greater than your dearest friends', or your
own husband's ?
Object. ' O but yet he will not save the graceless.'
Answ. True, but he is the more ready to give grace, that you
maybe saved. " If any of you (mark, any of you) do lack wis
dom, let him ask it of God, who giveth to all men liberally (with
out desert) and upbraidetb not (with our unwortbiness or former
faults), and it shall be given him ;" James i. 4. " If you that are
evil can give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your
heavenly Father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask it ?" Luke
xi. 13. Suppose your life were in the hands of your own hus
band, or your children's life in your hands, would it not exceed
ingly comfort you or them, to consider whose hands they are in,
though yet you had no further assurance how you should be used ?
It may be you will say, ' But God is no Father to the graceless.'
I answer, He is not their Father in so near and strict a sense as he
is the Father of believers ; but yet a Father he is, even to ihe wick
ed ; and to convince men of his fatherly mercy to them, he often

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND CO Jl FORT. 303
sostileth himself. He saith by Moses, Deut. xxxii. 6, to a wicked
generation, whose spot was not the spot of his children, " Do ye
thus requite the Lord, O foolish people and unwise ? Is not he thy
Father that bought thee? Hath he not made thee, and establish
ed thee?" And the prodigal could call him Father for his en
couragement before he returned to him ; Luke xv. 16 — 18. For
my own part I must needs profess, that my soul hath more frequent
support from the consideration of God's gracious and merciful na
ture, than from the promise itself.
2. Furthermore, Suppose you were graceless at the present ;
yet is it not an exceeding comfort, that there is one of such infinite
compassion as the Lord Christ, who hath assumed our nature, and
is come down to seek and save that which was lost ; and is more
tender-hearted to poor sinners than we can possibly conceive ? Yea,
who hath made it his office to heal, and relieve, and restore, and
reconcile. Yea, that hath himself endured such temptations as
many of ours ; " For we have not a High-priest which cannot be
touched with the feelings of our infirmities ; but was in all points
tempted like as we are, without sin. Let us therefore, (saith the
Holy Ghost) come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may
obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need ;" Heb. iv.
15, 16. " Forasmuch as the children were partakers of flesh and
blood, he also himself likewise took part with them, that he might
destroy, through death, him that had the power of death, that is,
the devil ; and deliver them, who through fear of death, were all
their lifetime subject to bondage. For verily, he took not on him
the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham.
Wherefore in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his
brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful High-Priest in
things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for tbe sins of tbe
people. For that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is
able to succor them that are tempted;" Heb. ii. 14 — 18. Have
you discountenance from men ? Christ had much more. Doth
God seem to forsake you ? So he did by Christ. Are you fain
to lie on your knees crying for mercy ? Why Christ in the days
of his flesh was fain to offer up " strong cries and tears, to him that
was able to save him. And was heard in that he feared." It

304 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
seems that Christ had distressing fears as well as you, though not
sinful fears. Have you horrid temptations ? Why Christ was
tempted to cast himself headlong, and to worship the devil, for
worldly preferment ; yea, the devil had power to carry his body
up and down to the pinnacle of the temple, and the top of a moun
tain. If he had such power of you, would you not think yourself
certainly his slave? I conclude, therefore, as it is an exceeding
ground of comfort to all the sick people in a city, to know that there
is a most merciful and skilful physician, that is easily able to cure
them, and hath undertaken to do it freely for all that will take him
for their physician ; so is it a ground of exceeding comfort to the
worst of sinners, to all sinners that are yet alive, and have not blas
phemed the Holy Ghost, to know what a merciful and efficient
Savior hath undertaken the work of man's redemption.
3. Also, suppose that you are graceless, is it nothing that a suf
ficient sacrifice and ransom is given for you ? This is the very
foundation of all solid peace. I think this is a great comfort, to
know that God looks now for no satisfaction at your hand ; and
that the number or greatness of your sins, as such, cannot now be
your ruin. For certainly no man shall perish for want of the pay
ment of his ransom, or of an expiatory sacrifice for sin, but only
for want of a willing heart to accept him that hath freely ransomed
them. 4. Also, suppose you are graceless, is it nothing that God hath
under his hand and seal made a full and free deed of gift, to you
and all sinners, of Christ, and with him of pardon and salvation !
And all this on condition of your acceptance or consent? I know
the despisers of Christ shall be miserable for all this. But for you
that would fain have Christ, is it no comfort to know that you shall
have him if you will ? And to find this to be the sum of the Gos
pel? I know you have often read those free offers, Rev. xxii. 17.
"Whosoever will, let him take ofthe water of life freely." " Ho,
every one that thirsteth, come and drink," &c. Almost all that I
have hitherto said to you is comprised in that one text, John iii. 16.
" God so loved the word, that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life."

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 305
And as I have shewed it you in the causes, what comfort even
general mercy may afford, so let mc a little shew it you in the ef
fects. I mean, not only in that God is now satisfied ; but as to
yourself and every sinner, these three things are produced hereby.
1 . There is now a possibility of salvation to you. And certain
ly even that should be a very great comfort. I know you will
meet with some divines, who will tell you that this is no effect of
Christ's death ; and that else Christ should die for God, if he pro
cured him a power to save which he had not before. But this is
no better, than a reproaching of our Redeemer. Suppose that a
traitor had so abused a king, that it will neither stand with his own
honor, nor justice, nor laws to pardon him ; if his compassions were
so great, that his own son shall suffer for him, that so the king might
be capable of pardoning him, without any diminution of his honor
or justice; were it not a vile reproach, if this traitor should tell the
prince that suffered for hiin, ' It was for your father that you suffer
ed to procure him a power of pardoning, it was not for me ?' It is
true, the king could not pardon him, without satisfaction to his hon
or and justice. But this was not through any impotency, but be
cause the thing was not fit to be done, and so was morally impos
sible. For in law we say, dishonest things are impossible. And
it had been no less to the king if the traitor had not been pardoned.
So it is in our case. And therefore Christ's sufferings could not
be more eminently for us, than by enabling the offended Majesty
to forgive us; and so taking the greatest impediment out of the
way. For when impediments are once removed, God's nature is
so gracious and prone to mercy, that he would soon pardon us
when once it is fit to be done, and so morally possible in the fullest
sense ; only men's own unwillingness now stands in the way, and
makes it to be not fully fit to be yet done. It is true, in a remote
sense, the pardon of sin was always possible ; but in the nearest
sense it was impossible, till Christ made it possible by his satisfac
tion. 2. Nay, though you were yet graceless, you have now this com
fort, that your salvation is probable as well as possible. You are
very fair for it. The terms are not hard in themselves, on which
it is tendered. For Christ's yoke is easy, and his burden is light,
Vol. I. 39

306 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING.
and his commands are not grievous. " The word is nigh you,"
even the offer of grace. You need not say, "Who shall ascend to
heaven, or go down to hell?" Rom. x. But this will appear in
the next.
3. Yea, this exceeding comfort there is, even for them that are
graceless, that their salvation is conditionally certain, and the con
dition is but their own willingness. They may all have Christ and
life if they will. Now I desire you in all your doubts, that you will
well consider and improve this one truth and ground of comfort.
Would you, in the midst of your groans, and complaints and fears
take it for a small mercy, to be certain that you shall have Christ
if you will ? When you are praying for Christ in fear and anguish
of spirit, if an angel or voice from heaven should say to you ' It shall
be unto thee according to thy will, if thou wilt have Christ and live
in him, thou shalt :' Would this be no comfort to you? Would it
not revive you and overcome your fears ?
By this time, I hope you see what abundance of comfort gene
ral mercy or grace may afford the soul, before it perceive, (yea, or
receive) any special grace ; though few of those that receive not
special grace can make use of general, yet it is propounded to them
as well as others.
1. All the terrifying temptations which are grounded on misrep
resentations of God, as if he were a cruel destroyer to be fled from,
are dispelled by the due consideration of his goodness, and the
deep settled apprehensions of his gracious, merciful, lovely nature,
(which indeed is the first work of true religion, and the very master
radical act of true grace, and the chief maintainer of spiritual life
and motion.)
2. All these temptations are yet more effectually dispelled, by
considering this merciful divine nature dwelling in flesh, becoming
man, by condescending to the assumption of our human nature ;
and so come near us, and assuming the office of being the Media
tor, the Redeemer, the Saviour ofthe world.
3. All your doubts and fears that proceed from your former
sins, whether of youth or of age, of ignorance or of knowledge,
and those which proceed from your legal unworthiness, have all
a present remedy in the fullness and sufficiency of Christ's satisfac-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 307
tion, even for all the world ; so that no sin (except the excepted
sin) is so gVeat, but it is fully satisfied for ; and though you are
unworthy, yet Christ is worthy ; and he came into the world to
save only the unworthy (in the strict and legal sense.)
4. All your doubts and fears that arise from an apprehension of
God's unwillingness to shew you mercy, and to give you Christ and
life in him, arise from the misapprehensions of Christ's unwilling
ness to be yours ; or at least from the uncertainty of his willing
ness ; these have all a sufficient remedy in the general extent, and
tenor of the new covenant. Can you doubt whether God be wil
ling to give you Christ and life, when he had given them already,
even by a deed of gift under his hand, and by a law of grace ? 1
John v. 10—12.
Object. ' But yet all are not pardoned, and possessed of Christ,
and so saved.'
Answ. I told you, that is because they will not ; so that (I pray
you mark it well) God hath in these four means before mentioned,
given even to the graceless so much ground of comfort, that noth
ing, but their unwillingness to have Christ, is left to be their terror.
For ihough sin be not actually remitted to them, yet it is condi
tionally remitted, viz. If they will but accept of Christ offered them.
Will you remember this, when your doubts are greatest, and you
conclude, that certainly Christ is not yours, because you have no
true grace ? Suppose it to be true, yet still know, that Christ may
be yours if you will, and when you will. This comfort you may
have when you can find no evidences of true grace in yourself. So
much for that direction.
Direct. VIII. The next thing that you have to do, for building
up a stable comfort, and settling your conscience in a solid peace,
is this, ' Be sure to get and keep a right understanding ofthe na
ture of saving faith.'
As you must have right thoughts of the covenant of grace (of
"""which before,) the want thereof doth puzzle and confound very ma
ny Christians ; so you must be sure to have right thoughts of the
condition of the covenant. For indeed that grace which causeth
you to perform this condition, is your first special saving grace,
which you may take as a certain evidence of your justification. And

308 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
this condition is the very link which conjoineth all the general fore
going grace to all the rest of the following special grace. The
Scripture is so full and plain in assuring pardon and salvation to all
true believers, that if you can be sure you are a believer, you need_
not make any doubt of your interest in Christ, and your salvation.
Seeing therefore that all the question will be, Whether you have
true faith ? Whether you do perform the condition of the new
covenant? (for all other doubts God bath given you sufficient
ground to resolve, as is said) how much then doth it concern you to
have a right understanding of the nature of this faith. Which that
you may have, let me tell you briefly what it is. Man's soul hath
two faculties, understanding and will : accordingly the objects of
man's soul (all beings which it is to receive) have two modifica
tions ; truth and goodness (as those to be avoided are evil.) Ac
cordingly God's word or Gospel hath two parts ; the revelation. of
truth, and the offer and promise of some good. This offered good
is principally and immediately Christ himself to be joined to us by
covenant, as our head and husband. The secondary consequen
tial good, is pardon, justification, reconciliation, adoption, further
sanctification and glorification, which are all offered with Christ.
By this you may see what saving faith is ; it is first, a believing that
the Gospel is true ; and then an accepting of Christ therein offer
ed to us, with his benefits ; or a consenting that he be ours, and we
be his ; which is nothing but a true willingness to have an offered
Christ. Remember this well, that you may make use of it, when
you are in doubt of the truth of your faith. Thousands of poor
souls have been in the dark, and unable to see themselves to be
believers, merely for want of knowing what saving faith is. The
Papists place almost all in the mere assent of the understanding.
Some of the Reformers made it to be either an assurance of the
pardon of our own sins, or a strong persuasion of their pardon, ex
cluding doubting ; or (the most moderate) a persuasion of our par
ticular pardon, though mixed with some doubting. The Antino-
mians strike in with them, and say the same. Hence some divines
conclude, that justification and remission go before faith, because
the act doth always suppose its object. For they thought that re
mission already past was the object of justifying faith, supposing

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT.

309

faith to be nothiug else but a belief that we are pardoned. Yea, or
dinarily, it hath been taught in the writings of our greatest refiners
of the Papists, ' That this belief is properly a divine faith, or the
belief of a divine testimony, as is tbe believing of any proposition
written in the Scripture (a foul error, which I have confuted in my
Book of Rest, part iii. chap, vii.) Most of late have come nearer
the truth, and affirmed justifying faith to consist in affiance, or re
cumbency, or resting on Christ for salvation. No doubt this is one
act of justifying faith, but not that which a poor troubled soul should
first search after and try itself by (except by affiance, any should
mean as Amesius doth, election of Christ, and then it is the same
act which I am asserting, but very unfitly expressed.) For, (1.)
Affiance is not the principal act nor that wherein the very life of jus
tifying faith doth consist, but only an iraperate allowing act, and an
effect of the vital act, (which is consent, or willing, or accepting
Christ offered ;) for it lieth mainly in that which we call the sensi
tive part, or the passions ofthe soul. (2.) It is therefore less con
stant, and so unfitter to try by. For many a poor soul that knows
itself unfeignedly willing to have Christ, yet feeleth not a resting on
him, or trusting in him, and therefore cries out, ' O I cannot be
lieve ;' and think they have no faith. For recumbency, affiance,
or resting on Christ, implieth that easing of themselves, or casting
off their fears, or doubts, or cares, which true believers do not al
ways find. Many a poor soul complains, ' O I cannot rest on Christ ;
I cannot trust him !' who yet would have him to be their Lord and
Saviour, and can easily be convinced of their willingness. (3.)
Besides affiance is not the adequate act of faith, suited to the object
in that fulness as it must be received, but willingness or acceptance
is. Christ is rested on not only for ourselves as our deliverer, but
he is accepted also for himself as our Lord and Master. The full
proof of these I have performed in other writings, and oft in your
hearing in public, and therefore omit them now. Be sure then to
fix this truth deep in your mind, ' That justifying faith is not an as
surance of our justification ; no, nor a persuasion or belief that we
are justified or pardoned, or that Christ died more for us than for
others. Nor yet is affiance or resting on Christ the vital principle,
certain, constant, full act ; but it is the understanding's belief of

310 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the truth ofthe Gospel, and the will's acceptance of Christ and life
offered to us therein ; which acceptance is but the hearty consent
or willingness that he be yours, and you his. This is the faith which
must justify and save you.
Object. But, ' May not wicked men be willing to have Christ ?
And do not you oft tell us that justifying faith comprehends
love to Christ and thankfulness, and that it receiveth him as a Lord
to be obeyed, as well as a deliverer ? And that repentance and sin
cere obedience are parts of the condition of the new covenant ?'
Answ. I will give as brief a touch now on these as may be, be
cause I have handled them in fitter places.
1. Wicked men are willing to have remission, justification, and
freedom from hell (for no man can be willing to be unpardoned, or
to be damned ;) but they are not willing to have Christ himself in
that nature and office which he must be accepted ; that is, as an ho
ly head and husband to save both from the guilt and power, and all
defilement and abode of sin, and to rule them by his law, and guide
thein by his Spirit, and to make them happy by bringing them to
God, that being without sin, they may be perfectly pleasing and
amiable in his sight, and enjoy him for ever. Thus is Christ offered,
and thus to be accepted of all that will be saved ; and thus no wick
ed man will accept him (but when he ceaseth to be wicked.) 2.
To cut all the rest short in a word, I say, That in this fore-des
cribed willingness or acceptance, repentance, love, thankfulness,
resolution to obey, are all contained, or nearly implied, as I have
elsewhere manifested ; so that the heart of saving faith is this ac
ceptance of Christ, or willingness to have him to justify, sanctify,
guide, and govern you. Find but this willingness, and you find all
the rest, whether you expressly see them or not. So much for
that direction.
Direct. IX. Having thus far proceeded, in discovering and im
proving the general grounds of comfort, and then in discovering the
nature of faith, which gives you right to the special mercies ofthe
covenant following it ; your next work must be, ' To perform this
condition by actual believing.'
Your soul stands in extreme need of a Saviour. God offereth
you a Saviour in the Gospel. What then have you next to do but

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 311
to accept him ? Believe that this offer is general, and therefore to
you. And that Christ is not set to sale, nor doth God require you
to bring a price in your hand, but only heartily and thankfully to
accept of what he freely giveth you. This must be done before
you fall on trying your graces to get assurance, for you must have
grace before you can discover it ; and this is the first proper special
saving grace (as it compriseth that knowledge and assent which ne
cessarily go before it.) This is not only the method for those that
yet never believed, but also for them that have lost the sense of
their faith, and so the sight of their evidence. Believe again, that
you may know you do believe ; or at least may possess an accepted
Saviour. When God in the Gospel bids you take Jesus Christ, and
beseecheth you to be reconciled to him, what will you say to him ?
If your heart answer, ' Lord I am willing, I will accept of Christ
and be thankful ;' why then the match is made between Christ and
you, and the marriage-covenant is truly entered, which none can
dissolve. If Christ were not first willing, he would not be the sui
tor, and make the motion ; and if he be willing, and you be willing,
what can break the match ? If you will say, ' I cannot believe ;'
if you understand what you say, either you mean that you
cannot believe the gospel is true, or else that you cannot be
willing that Christ should be yours. If it be the former, and
speak truly, then you are a flat infidel (yet many temptations to
doubt ofthe truth of Scripture, a true believer may have, yea, and
actual doubtings ; but his faith prevailed], and is victorious over
them) ; but if you really doubt whether the Gospel be true, use
• God's means for the discovery of its truth. Read what I have writ
ten in the second part of my Book of Rest. I will undertake now
more confidently than ever I did, to prove the truth of Scripture by
plain, full, undeniable force of reason. But I suppose this is none
of your case. If therefore when you say, that you cannot believe,
you mean, that you cannot accept an offered Christ, or be willing
to have him; then I demand, (1.) What is your reason ? The will
is led by the reason of the understanding. If you be not willing,
there is something that persuades you to be unwilling. This rea
son must be from something real, or else upon a mistake, upon sup-
posal of something that is not in being. If it be upon mistake, eith
er it is that you be not convinced of Christ's willingness to be

312 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KT.EPING
yours ; and if you thought he did conjent, you would consent
willingly ; if this be it, you do truly believe while you think you do
not; for you do consent (and that is all on your part to make the
match) and Christ doth certainly consent, though you do not under
stand it. In this case it concerneth you, to understand better the
extent of the new covenant, and then you will be past doubt of the
willingness of Christ, and see that wherever the match breaks, it is
only for want of consent in men ; for Christ is the first suitor, and
hath long ago in the covenant proclaimed his consent, to be the
head and husband of every sinner, on condition they will but con
sent to be his.
If your mistake be from any false apprehension ofthe nature of
Christ, as if he were not a sufficient Saviour, or were an enemy to
your comfort, that he would do you more harm than good ; if these
mistakes are prevalent, then you do not know Christ, and therefore
must presently better study him in the Gospel, till you have pre
vailed over such ignorant and blasphemous conceits (but none of
this I suppose is your case.)
If then the reason why you say you cannot believe, be from any
thing that is really in Christ (and not upon mistake,) then it must
be either from some dislike of his saving work, by which he would
pardon you, and save you from damnation (but that is impossible,
for you cannot be willing to be damned or unpardoned, till you lose
your reason :) or else it is from a dislike of his work of sanctifica
tion, by which he would cleanse your heart and life, by saving you
from your sinful nature and actions ; some grudging against Christ's
holy and undefiled laws and ways will be in the best, while there is
that flesh in them which lusteth against the Spirit, so that they can
not do the things they would. But if truly you have such a dislike
of a sinless condition, through the love of any sin or creature, that
you cannot be willing to have Christ to cure you, and cleanse you
from that sin, and make you holy : I say, if this be true, in a pre
vailing degree, so that if Christ and holiness were offered you, you
would not accept them, then it is certain you have not true faith.
And in this case it is easily to discern, that your first work lieth not
in getting comfort or ease to your troubled mind ; but in getting
better conceits of Christ and a holy state and life, that so you may

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 313
be willing of Christ, as Christ is of you, and so become a true be
liever. And here I would not leave you at that loss as some do, as
if there were nothing for you to do for the getting of faith ; for cer
tainly God hath prescribed you means for that end. " Faith Com
eth by hearing, and hearing by the word of God preached j" Rom.
x. 17. i. Therefore see that you wait diligently On this ordi
nance of God. Read the Scriptures daily, and search them to see
whether you may not there find that holiness is better than sin. ii.
And however some seducers may tell you, that wicked men ought
not to pray, yet be sure that you lie on your knees before God, and
importunately beg that he would open your eyes, and change your
heart, and shew you so far the evil of sin, and the want and worth
of Christ and holiness, that you may be unfeignedly glad to accept
his offer.
Object. ' But the prayers of the wicked are an abomination to
the Lord.'
Answ. (1.) You must distinguish between wicked men, as ac
tually wicked, and going on in the prosecution of their wickedness;
and wicked men, as they have some good in them, or are doing
some good, or are attempting a return to God. (2.) You must dis
tinguish between real prayer and seeming prayer. (3.) You must
distinguish between full acceptance of prayer, when God delighteth
in them, and an acceptance only to some particular end, not intima
ting the acceptance ofthe person with his prayer : and between ac
ceptance fully promised (as certain) and acceptance but half prom
ised- (as probable). And upon these distinctions I shall answer
your objections in the conclusion.
1 . When wicked men pray to God to prosper them in their
wickedness, yea, or to pardon them while they intend to go on in
it, and so to give them an indulgence in sin ; or when they think
with a few prayers for some good, which they can endure, to put by
that holiness which they cannot endure, and so to make a cloak for
their rebellion, these prayers are all an abomination to the Lord.
2. When men use the words of a prayer, without the desire of
the thing asked, this is no prayer, but equivocally so called, as a
carcase is a man ; and therefore no wonder if God abhor that
prayer, which is truly no prayer.
Vol. I. 40

314 direction's for getting and keeping
3. God hath not made a full promise, ascertaining any wicked
man, while wicked, that he will hear his prayer^ for all such j>rom-
ises are made to believers.
4. God doth never so hear an unbeliever's prayer, as to accept
his person with his prayer, or to take a complacency in them. So
much for the negative. ¦*
Nor for the affirmative, I add ; 1. Prayer is a duty which God
enjoined even wicked men (I could prove it by an hundred Scrip
ture texts.)
2. There may be some good desires in unbelievers, which they
may express in prayer, and these God may so far hear as to grant
them, as he did in part to Ahab.
3. An unbeliever may lie under preparing grace, and be on his
way in returning towards God, though yet he be not come to saving
faith ; and in this state he may have many good desires, and such
prayers as God will hear.
4. Though God have not flatly engaged himself to unbelievers, so
as to give them a certainty of hearing their prayers, and giving them
true grace on the improvement of their naturals, yet he hath not only
appointed them this and other means to get grace, but also given
them half promises, or strong probabilities of speeding, so much
as may be a sufficient encouragement to any such sinner to call on
God, and use his means. For as he appointeth not any vain means
fo man, so no man can name that man who did improve his naturals
to the utmost, and in particular, sought God in prayer, so far as a
natural man may do, who yet missed of grace, and was rejected
(this is the true mean between Pelagianism and Antinomianism in
this point).
5. When God calls unbelievers to prayer, he withal calls them
to believe. And when be works their heart to prayer by that call,
he usually withal works them to believe, or at least towards believ
ing. If he that was unwilling to have Christ, do pray God to make
him willing, it is a beginning of willingness already, and the way to
get more willingness. In prayer God useth to give in the thing
prayed for, of this kind.
6. Prayer is the soul's motion God-ward : and to say an unbe-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 315
lievei* should not pray, is to say he should not turn to God ; who yet
saith to the wicked^ " Seek the Lord while he may be found, and
call upon while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way ;" &c.
Isaiah lv. 6, 7.
7. Prayer hath two parts ; desire is the soul of it, and expression
is the hody. The soul can live separated from the body, but so
cannot the body separated from the soul. So can desire without
expression, but not expression without desire. When our blind
Antinomians (the great subverters of the Gospel, more than the
law) do rail against ministers for persuading wicked men to pray,
diey are against us for persuading men to desire that they pray for ;
prayer having desire for its soul. And do not those men deserve
to be exterminated the churches and societies of the saints, who
dare say to a wicked unbeliever, ' Desire not faith ? Desire not to
leave thy wickedness ? Desire not grace ? or Christ ? or God ?
And that will proclaim abroad the word (as I have oft heard of them
with zealous reproaches) that our ministers are legalists, seducers,
ignorant of the mysteries of the Gospel, because they persuade
poor sinners to pray for faith, grace, and Christ ; that is to desire
these, and to express their desires ; which in effect is to persuade
them to repent, believe, and turn to God. Indeed, if these blind
seducers had ever heard our ministers persuading wicked men to
dissemble and lie to God, and ask faith, grace and Christ with their
tongues, but not desire them in their hearts, then had they sufficient
grounds for their reviling language. But I have been too long on
this. I may therefore boldly conclude, that they that find them
selves unbelievers, that is, unwilling to have Christ to deliver them
from sin, must use this second means to get faith, even earnest fre
quent prayer for it to God.
iii. Let such also see that they avoid wicked seducing company
and occasions of sin ; and be sure that they keep company with
men fearing God, especially joining with them in their holy duties.
iv. Lastly, let such be sure that they use that reason which God
hath given them, to consider frequently, retiredly, seriously, ofthe
vanity of all those ihings that steal away their hearts from Christ ;
and of the excellency of holiness, and how blessed a state it is to
have nothing in us of heart or life that is displeasing to God, but to

316 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
be such as he taketh full delight in ; also of the certainty of tbe
damnation ot unbelievers, and the intolerablenes& of their torments ;
and of the certainty and inconceivable greatness of believers' ever
lasting happiness. If wicked unbelievers would but do what. they
can in daily, serious, deep considering of these things, and the like,
they would have no cause to despair of obtaining faith and sanctifi
cation. Believing is a rational act. God bids you not to believe
any thing without reason, nor to accept or consent to any thing
without full reason to cause you to consent. Think then often and
soberly of those reasons that should move you to consent, and of
the vanity of these that hinder you from consenting, and this is
God's way for you to obtain faidi or consent.
Remember then, that when you have understood and improved
general grounds of comfort (nay before you can come to any full
improvement of them) your next business is to believe ; to consent
to the match with Christ, and to take him for your Lord and Sav
iour. And this duty must be looked to and performed, before you
look after special comfort. But I said somewhat of this before un
der the sixth head, and therefore will say no more now.
Direct. X. When you have gone thus far, your soul is safe, and
you are past your greatest dangers, though yet you are not past
your fears ; your next work therefore for peace and comfort is
this ; ' To review and take notice of your own faith, and thence to
gather assurance ofthe certainty of your justification, and adoption,
and right to glory.'
The sum of this direction lieth in these things :
1. See that you do not content yourself with the forementioned
•general comforts, without looking after assurance and special com
forts. The folly of this I have manifested in tbe third part of my
Book of Rest, about Self-examination.
•2. See that you dream not of finding assurance and special com
fort from mere general grounds. This is the delusion of many
Antinomians, and most of our profane people (who I find are com
monly of the Antinomian faith naturally, without teaching.) For
men to conclude that they shall certainly be saved, merely because
God is mereiful, or Christ is tender-hearted to sinners, and would
not that any should perish, but all should come to repenlatice ; or

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 31 7
because God delights not in the death of him that dieth, but rather
that he repent and live ; or because Christ died for them ; or be
cause God hath giveu Christ and life in the Gospel to all, on con
dition of believing ; these are all but mere delusions. Much com
fort, as I have shewed you, may be gathered from these generals ;
but no certainty of salvation, or special comfort can be gathered
from them alone.
8. See that you reject the Antinomian doctrine or dotage, which
would teach you to reject the trial and judging of your state by signs
of grace in yourself, and tell you that it is only the Spirit that must
assure, by witnessing your adoption ; I will further explain this cau
tion when 1 have added the rest.
4. And on the odier extreme, do not run to marks unseasonably,
but in the order here laid down.
5. Nor trust to unsafe marks.
6. And therefore do not look at too many ; for the true ones are
but few. I do but name these things to you, because I have more
fully handled them in my Book of Rest, whither I must refer you.
And so I return to the third caution.
I have in the forementioned book told you, what the office of the
Spirit is in assuring us, and what the use of marks are. The Spir
it witnesseth first objectively, and so the Spirit and marks are all
one. For it is the Spirit dwelling in us that is the witness or proof
that we are God's sons ; for he that hath not his Spirit is none of
his. And the Spirit is not discerned by us in its essence, but in
its workings ; and therefore to discern these workings, is to discern
the Spirit, and these workings are marks that we speak of : so that
the Spirit witnesseth our sonship, as a reasonable soul witnesseth
that you are a man and not a beast. You find by the acts of reas
on, that you have a reasonable soul, and then you know, that having
a reasonable soul, you certainly are a man. So you find by the
works or fruits of the Spirit, that you have the Spirit (that is, by
marks ; and Paul enumerates the fruits of the' Spirit to that end,)
and then by finding that you have the Spirit you may certainly
know that you are the child of God. Also, as the reasonable
soul is its own discerner by the help of the body (while it is in it)
and so witnesseth our humanity effectively as well as objectively

318 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
(but first in order objectively, and next effectively ;) so doth the
Spirit effectively discover itself to the soul, by illuminating us to
discern it, and exciting us to search, and giving us that spiritual
taste and feeling of its workings, and so of its presence, by which it
is best known. But still it witnesseth objectively, first, and its
effective witnessing is but the causing us to discern its objective
witness. Or (to speak more plainly,) the spirit witnesses first and
principally, by giving us those graces and workings which are our
marks ; and then, secondly by helping us to find and feel those
workings or marks in ourselves ; and then, lastly, by raising com
forts in the soul upon that discovery. Take heed therefore of ex
pecting any such inward witness of the Spirit, as some expect, viz-
a discovery of your adoption directly, without first discovering the
signs of it within you, as if by an inward voice he should say to
you, ' Thou art a child of God and thy sins are pardoned.'
This that I described to you, is the true witness of the Spirit.
This mistake is so dangerous, that I had thought to have made it a
peculiar direction by itself, to warn you of it ; and now I have gone
so far I will despatch it here. Two dangerous consequents I
find do follow this unwarrantable expectation ofthe first immediate
efficient revelation that we are adopted.
1. Some poor souls have languished in doubting and trouble of
mind almost all their days, in expectation of such a kind of witness
as the Spirit useth not to give ; when in the meantime they have
sufficient means of comfort, and knew not how to improve them ;
yea, they had the true witness of the Spirit in his inhabitation and
holy workings, and did not know it; but run as Samuel did to Eli,
not knowing the voice of God; and look for the Spirit's testimony
when they had it, as the Jews for Elias and the Messias.
2. Others do more dangerously err, by taking the strong con
ceit of their own fantasy for the witness of the Spirit ; as soon as
they do but entertain the opinion that it must be such a witness
of the Spirit, without the use of marks, that must assure men of their
adoption, presently they are confident that they have the witness
in themselves. It is scarce likely to be God's Spirit that is so ready
upon the mere change of an opinion. The devil useth to do as
much to cherish presumption, as to destroy true faith and assu-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. C19
ranee. It is a shrewd sign that our persuasions of our truth of
grace is a delusion, when we Ijnd the devil a friend to it, and help
ing it on. And it is a probable sign it is a good persuasion, when
we find the devil an enemy to it, and still troubling us and endeav
oring our disquiet.
And here I remember the scruple that troubleth some about the
spirit of bondage, and the spirit of adoption. But you must under
stand, that by the spirit of bondage is meant that spirit, and those
operations on the soul which the law of works did naturally beget
in those that were under it ; which was to be partly in bondage, to
a task of ceremonious duties, and partly to the curse and obliga
tion to punishment for disobedience, without any power to justify.
They were said therefore to be in bondage to the law ; and the
law was said to be a yoke, which neither they nor their fathers
were able to bear : Acts xv.
And by the spirit of adoption is meant, 1 . That spirit, or those
qualifications or workings in their souls, which by the Gospel God
giveth only to his sons. 2. And which raise in us some childlike
affections to God inclining us in all our wants to run to him in prayer,
as to a Father, and to make our moan to him, and open our griefs,
and cry for redress, and look to him, and depend on him as a child
on the father. This spirit of adoption you may have, and yet not
be certain of God's special love to you. Tbe knowledge only of
his general goodness and mercy, may be a means to raise in you
true childlike affections. You may know God to have fatherly
inclinations to you, and yet doubt whether he will use you as a
child, for want of assurance of your own sincerity. And you may
hope God is your Father, when yet you may apprehend him to
be a displeased, aDgry father, and so he may be more your terror
than your comfort. Are you not ready in most of your fears, and
doubts, and troubles, to go to God before all other for relief? And
doth not your heart sigh and groan to him, when you can scarcely
speak ? Doth not your troubled spirit there find its first vent ? And
say, ' Lord kill me not ; forsake me not ; my life is in thy hands ;
O soften this hard heart; make this carnal mind more spiritual!
O be not such a stranger to my soul ! Wo to me that I am so igno
rant of thee ! so disaffected to thee ! so backward and disinclined

320 DIRECTIONS FCR GETTING AND KEEPING
to holy communion with thee ! Wo to me, that can take no more
pleasure in thee ! and am so mindless and disregardful of thee !
O that thou wouldst stir up in me more lively desires, and workings
of my soul towards thee! and suffer me not to lie at such a distance
from thee!' Are not such as these the breathings of your spirit ?
Why these are childlike breathings after God ! This is crying ' Ab
ba, Father.' This is the work of the spirit of adoption, even when
you fear God will cast you off. You much mistake (and those
that tell you so) if you think that the spirit of adoption lieth only in
a persuasion that you are God's child, or that you may not have
the spirit of adoption, without such a persuasion of God's adopting
you. For God may adopt you, and give you that spirit which he
gives only to his children, and possess you with true filial affections
towards him, before ever you know yourself to be adopted ; much
more, though you may have frequent returning doubts of your
adoption. Having thus shewed you how far you may expect the witness of
the Spirit, and how far you may and must make use of marks and
qualifications, or actions of your own, for the obtaining of assurance
and settled peace, I shall add an answer to the principal objections
of the Antinomians against this.
Object. They say, This is to draw men from Christ to them
selves, and from the gospel to the law ; to lay their comforts, and
build their peace upon any thing in themselves, is to forsake Christ,
and make themselves their own saviors : and those teachers that
persuade them to this, are teachers of the law, and false prophets,
who draw men from Christ to themselves. All our own righteous
ness is as filthy rags, and our best works are sin ; and there-
efore we may not take up our assurance or comforts from them.
We shall be always at uncertainties, and at a loss, or inconstant, up
and down in our comforts, as long as we take them from any signs
in ourselves : also our own graces are imperfect, and therefore un
fit to be the evidences for our assurance.
Answ. Because I am not now purposely confuting the Antino
mians, but only forearming you against their assaults ; I shall not
therefore give you half that I should otherwise say, for the explica
tion of this point, and the confutation of their errors, but only so

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 321
much as is necessary to your preservation : which I do, because
they pretend to be the only preachers of free grace, and the only
right comforters of troubled consciences ; and because they have
written so many books to that end, which if they fall into your
hands may seem so specious, as that you may need some preserva
tive. 1 suppose you remember what I have taught you so oft, con
cerning the difference of the law of works, and the law of grace,
with their different conditions. Upon which supposition I explicate
the point thus. 1. No man may look at his own graces or duties
as his legal righteousness ; that is, such as for which the law of
works will pronounce him righteous. 2. Nor yet may he take them
for part of his legal righteousness, in conjunction with Christ's right
eousness, as the other part ; but here we must go wholly out of our
selves, and deny and disclaim ail such righteousness of our own.
We have no works which make the reward to be not of grace but
of debt. 3. We must not once think that our graces, duties, or suf
ferings, can make satisfaction to God's justice for our sin and un
righteousness ; nor yet that they are any part of that satisfaction.
Here we ascribe all to Christ, who is the only sacrifice and ran
som. 4. Nor must we think that our duties or graces are proper
ly meritorious ; this also is to be left as the sole honor of Christ.
5. Yet that we may and must raise our assurance and comforts
from our own graces and duties, shall appear in these clear reasons
following, which shew also the grounds on which we may do it.
1. Pardon, justification, and adoption, and salvation, are all given
to us in the Gospel only conditionally (if we believe), and tbe con
dition is an act, or rather several acts of our own. Now till the
condition be performed, no man can have any certainty that the
benefit shall be his, nor can he by any other means (ordinarily) be
certain of the benefit, but by that which ascertains him that he hath
performed the condition. God saith, "He that believeth shall be
saved." No man can know then that he shall be saved, till he first
know that he believeth. Else he should know either contrary to
that which is written, or more than that which is written ; and justi
fication and adoption should be given some other way than by the
gospel promise, for that promise giveth them only conditionlly, and
so suspendeth the actual right, upon the performance of the condi-
Vol. I. 41

322 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
tion. But if any can shew any other way, by which God maketh
over pardon and adoption, besides the gospel promise, let them do
it ; but I will not promise suddenly to believe them, for It was nev
er yet shewed as I know of. Also, if men must not look at their
own performance of the condition, to prove their right to the bene
fit, then either all or' none must believe that they have that right }
for the promise saith, " He that believeth shall be saved." And
this is a promise of life conditionally to all. If all must believe
that they shall be saved, then most of the world must believe a lie.
If the true believer may not therefore conclude that he shall be sa
ved, because he performed! the condition of the promise, then no
man may believe it. And for that absolute promise of the new
heart, no man can, or may believe that it is his, till he have that
new li6art which it promiseth ; that is, till it be fulfilled. For there
is no mark by which a man can know whether that promise belong
to him or no beforehand, and if all should believe that it belongs to
them, most would find it false.
2. God hath not redeemed us by his Son to be lawless. To be
without law is to be without government. We are without the law ;
that is, of works or of Moses, but not without law ; Jesus Christ
s our ruler, and he hath made us a law of grace ; an easy yoke,
and commands that are not grievous. This law hath precepts,
promises and threats ; it must needs be either obeyed or disobey
ed ; and so the penalty must be due or not due ; and the reward
due or not due. He that performs the condition, and so to whom
the reward is due, and not the penalty, is righteous in the sense of
this law. As when we are accused to be sinners against the law of
works, and so to deserve the penalty of that law, we must confess
all, and plead the righteousness of Christ's satisfaction for our justi
fication. So when we are accused to be final unbelievers or im-
penient, and so not to have performed the conditions of the new
covenant, we must be justified by our own faith and repentance,
the performance of that condition ; and must plead not guilty.
And so far our own acts are our evangelical righteousness, and that
of such necessity, that without it no man can have part in Christ's
righteousness, nor be saved. I would desire any man eke to tell
me, what else he will plead at judgment, when the accuser

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 323 ,
chargeth him (or if he do so charge him) with final unbelief? Will
he confess it, and say, ' Christ hath believed and repented for me?'
That is as much as to say, ' Christ was a believer for infidels, that
he might save infidels.' All false. If he will not say thus (and
lying will do no good) then must he plead his own believing and
repenting, as his righteousness, in opposition to that accusation.
And if it be of such use then, and be called a hundred times in
scripture, " our righteousness," and we righteous for it, then doubt
less we may accordingly try by it now, whedier we shall then be
able to come off and be justified, or no ; and so may build our
comfort on it.
3. Conscience is a witness and judge within us, and doth, as
under God, accuse ' and condemn, or excuse, and acquit. Now if
conscience must absolve us only so far as we are innocent, or do
well, or are qualified with grace, then it is impossible but these our
qualifications and actions should be some ground of our comfort.
See Acts xxiv. 16. xxiii. 1. Rom. ii. 15, 16.
4. Those which are our graces and works, as we are the sub
jects and agents, are the graces and works of God, of Christ, of
the Holy Ghost dwelling in us. If therefore we may not rejoice in
our own works, or graces, then we may not rejoice in the works
or gifts of God, Christ, or the Holy Ghost. And,
5. Our graces are the spiritual life or health of the soul, and our
holy actions are the vital operations. Now life and health are ne
cessary ; rejoicing, delighting things of themselves ; and vital ac
tions are necessarily pleasant and delectable.
6. Our graces and holy actions must needs rejoice us in respect
of their objects ; for the object of our love, trust, hope, meditation,
prayer, conference, &c. is God himself, and the Lord Jesus, and
the joys of heaven. And how can such actions choose but rejoice us!
7. Yea, rejoicing itself, and delighting ourselves in God is not
only one part of our duty, but that great duty wherein lieth the
height of our Christianity. And how vain a speech is it to say,
that we may not take up our comforts from our own works, nor re
joice in any thing of our own ; when even rejoicing itself, and de
lighting, and comforting ourselves, is one part of our duty ?
8. As God in Christ is the chief object and ground of our com

324 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
fort (so that we must rejoice in nothing but God, and the cross ef
Christ, in that kind, or in co-ordination with them ;) so it is the of
fice of every grace and holy work, and ordinance, and means, to be
subservient to Christ, either for the attaining of Christ, or applying
his merits, or they are the effects of his merits. Now if we must
love and rejoice in Christ principally, then must we needs love and
rejoice in all those things that stand in a necessary subordination to
him, in their places. And therefore to say, ' We must rejoice in
Christ only, and therefore not in any graces or duties of our own,'
is as wise, as if a wife should cast her husband's clothes and meat
out of doors and say, ' You charged me to admit none into my
chamber but yourself.' Or as if a physician, having told his pa
tients, ' I will cure you, if you will trust me only for the cure ;'
thereupon the patients should cast away his medicines, and shut
the doors against his servants and apothecaries, and say, ' We must
trust none but tbe physician.'
9-. All the failings of our duties are pardoned, and they accepted
in Christ ; and therefore we may rejoice in them.
10. Our duties have a double tendency to our salvation. (1.) As
the condition to which God hath promised it as the crown and re
ward (in a hundred texts of Scripture,) and may we not comfort
ourselves in that which God promiseth heaven to ? (2.) As a natural
means to our obedience and further protection (as watchfulness,
meditation, &c. tend to destroy sinT) as Pad saith to Timothy,
" Take heed to thyself, and to thy doctrine, and in so doing, thou
shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee ;" 1 Tim. iv. 1 6.
and may we not take comfort in that which tends to save our own
and our brethren's souls ?
11. We shall be judged according to our works ; therefore we
must judge ourselves according to our works; and so must judge
our state good or bad, according to our works. For can man judge
by a righter way than God will ? At least is it not lawful for man
to judge as God doth ?
12. We must judge of others in probability, according to their
external works, even the tree by the fruits ; therefore we must judge
of ourselves in certainty, according to our internal and external
works together, which we may certainly know.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 32fl
13. If we may not rejoice in any of our grates, then we may not
be thankful for them, for thankfulness is accompanied with joy ;
but we must be thankful.
14. If we may not rejoice in our duties, we may not repent or
sorrow for the neglect of them ; and if we may not rejoice in ow
graces, we may not lament the want of them (for these are as the
two ends of the balance, that one goes down when the other goes-
up ; or as day and night, light and darkness.) But the consequent
is intolerable. 1 5. This would overthrow all religion. For what a man cannot
rejoice in, he cannot love, lie cannot esteem, regard, be careful to
obtain, be fearful of losing, &z.c.
16. God delighteth in our graces and holy duties, and is well
pleased with them ; and therefore it is lawful and needful that we
do as God doth; Jer. ix. 24. Htb. xi. 5. Abel's sacrifice by
faith obtained testimony that he pleased God. " To do good, and
to communicate forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well
pleased ;" Heb. xiii. 16.
17. The saints of God have not only tried themselves by their
graces and duties, and commanded others to try by them, but have
gloried and rejoiced in their duties and sufferings. " This is our
rejoicing, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and
godly sincerity, we have had our conversation among you ;" 2 Cor.
i. 12. " They gloried that they were counted worthy to suffer for
Christ;" Acts v. 41. "I have therefore whereof I may glory in
Jesus Christ, in those things which pertain to God ;" Rom. xv. 17.
" We glory in tribulation," &z.c. ; chap. v. 3. u Though I should
desire to glory, I should not be a fool. I glory in mine infirmities ;"
2 Cor. xii. 6. 9. " Let him that glorieth glory in this, that he un-
derstandeth and knoweth me ; Jer. ix. 24. " I had rather die than
any should make my glorying void ;" 1 Cor. ix. 15. " Let every
man prove his own work, so shall he have rejoicing in himself
alone, and not in another ;" Gal. vi. 4.
18. Scripture nameth many of our own graces and duties, as the
certain marks of our justification and right to glory. Even Christ
with his own mouth, gives us many ; " Where your treasure is,
there will your heart be also;" Matt. vi. 21. " He that doth

326 DIRECTIONS FOR (SETTING AND KEEPING
evil hateth the light," &c. John iii. 10. Matt. v. is full of such ;
" Blessed are the poor iu spirit, the pure in heart," &,c.
19. We may rejoice in other men's good works and graces
(and do, if we be true Christians,) therefore in our own.
20. We may rejoice in God's outward mercies ; therefore much
more in inward, and such as accompany salvation. All these argu
ments prove, that we may take up our comfort from our own gra
cious qualifications and actions (not in opposition to Christ, but in
subordination to him,) and most of them prove that we may fetch
our assurance of salvation from them, as undoubted evidences
thereof. 1 have said the more in answer to these objections, (1.) Because
never any came with fairer pretences of exalting Christ, and main
taining the honor of his righteousness and free grace, and of deny
ing ourselves and our own righteousness. (2.) And yet few doc
trines more dishonor Christ, and destroy the very substance of re
ligion. Even as if a man should cry down him that would praise
and commend obedience to the king, and say, ' You must praise
nothing but the king. So do these cry down our looking at, and
rejoicing in our love to Christ, and our thankfulness to him, and
our obedience, and all under pretense of honoring him. Nay, they
will not have us rejoice in one part of Christ's salvation (his saving
us from the power of sin, and his sanctifying us) under pretence
that we dishonor the other part of his salvation (his justifying us.)
If ever Satan transformed himself into an angel of light, and his min
isters into ministers of light, it is in the mistakes ofthe Antinomians ;
and no people in the world (except carnal libertines, whom this
doctrine fits to a hair are in more danger of them, than poor, doubt
ing Christians, under trouble of conscience ; especially if they be
not judicious, and skilled in the doctrine of Christ. For the very
pretence of extolling Christ and free grace, will take much with
such ; and any new way will sometimes seem to give them com
fort, upon the very novelty and sudden change.
Having thus proved that you may, and must fetch your special
comfort and assurance from evidences, and that your first evidence
is your faith, I shall open this more fully under the next Direction.
Direct. XI. In the trial of your state, 'Be sure that you make

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 327
use of infallible signs of sincerity, and take not those for certain
which are not.'
And to that end remember what 1 said before, that you must
well understand wherein the nature of saving faith, and so of all
saving grace doth consist. And when you understand this, write
it down in two or three lines ; and both at your first trial, and af
terward, whenever any doubts do drive you to a review of your
evidence, still have recourse only to those signs, and try by them.
What these signs are, I have shewed you so fully in the forecited
place in my Book of Rest, that I shall say but little now. Remem
ber that infallible signs are very few ; and that whatsoever is made
the condition of salvation, that is the most infallible evidence of
Our salvation, and therefore the fittest mark to try by ; and there
fore faith in God the Father and the Redeemer, is the main evi
dence. 'But because I have elsewhere shewed you, that this faith
is comprehensive of love, gratitude, resolution to obey, and repent
ance, let me more particularly open it to help you in the trial. To
prove any grace to be saving, it is necessary that you prove that
salvation is fully promised to him that hath it. Now if you will
know what it is that hath this promise, I will tell you, 1. As to the
object. 2. The act. 3. The degree or modification of the act.
For all these three must be inquired after if you will get assurance.
1 . The object is principally God, and the Redeemer Christ. And
secondarily the benefits given by Christ ; and under that, the
means to attain the principal benefits, &;c. 2. The act hath many
names drawn from respective and moral differences in tbe object, as
faith, desire, love, choosing, accepting, receiving, consenting, &c.
But properly all are comprised in one word, ' willing.' The un
derstanding's high estimation of God, and Christ, and grace, is a
principal part of true saving grace ; but yet it is difficult, and scarce
possible to judge of yourself by it rightly, but only as it discovers
itself by prevailing with the will. 3. The degree of this act must
be such, as ordinarily prevaileth against its contrary ; I mean, both
the contrary object, and the contrary act to the same object. But
because I doubt school-terms do obscure my meaning to you
though they are necessary for exactness,) I will express the nature
of saving grace in two or three marks as plain as I can.

328 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
'- 4r»
L Are you heartily willing to take God for your portion ? And
had you rather live with him in glory in his favor and fullest love,
Wfth a soul perfectly cleansed from all sin, and never more to offend
him, rejoicing with bis saints in his everlasting praises, than to en
joy the delights of the flesh on earth, in a way of sin and without
the favor of God ?
II. Are you heartily willing to take Jesus Christ as he is offered
in the Gospel ? that is, to be your only Saviour, and Lord, to give
you pardon by his bloodshed, and to sanctify you by his word and
Spirit, and to govern you by his laws ?
Because this general containeth and implied! several particulars,
1 1*111 express them distinctly.
Here it is supposed that yon know this much following of the na
ture of his laws. For to be willing to be ruled by his laws in gene
ral, and utterly unwilling when it comes to particulars, is no true
willingness or subjection. 1 . You must know that his laws reach
both to heart and outward actions. 2. That they command a holy,
spiritual, heavenly life. 3. That they command things so cross
and unpleasingto the flesh, that the flesh will be still murmuring
and striving against obedience. Particularly, (1.) They command
things quite cross to the inclinations of the flesh ; as to forgive
wrongs, to love enemies, to forbear malice and revenge, to restrain
and mortify lust and passion, to abhor and mortify pride, and be
low in our own eyes, and bumble and meek in spirit. (2.) They
command things that cross the interest of the flesh and its inclina
tion both together ; I mean which will deprive it of its enjoyments,
and bring it to some suffering ? As to perform duties even when
they lay us open to disgrace and shame, and reproach in the world;
and to deny our credit, rather than forsake Christ or our duty.
To obey Christ in doing what he commandeth us, though it would
hazard or certainly lose our wealth, friends, liberty and life itself ;
forsaking all rather than fo forsake bim ; to give to the poor, and
other good uses, and that liberally, according to our abilities. To
deny the flesh all forbidden pleasures, and make not provisions to
satisfy its lusts, but to crucify the flesh, with the affections and lusts
thereof; and in this combat to hold on to the end, and to overcome.
These are the laws of Christ, which you must know, before you

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 329
jP*.
can determine whether you are indeed unfeignedly willing to obey
them. Put therefore these further questions to yourself, for the
trial of your willingness to be ruled by Christ according to his laws..
III. Are you heartily willing to live in the performance of those
holy and spiritual duties of heart and life, which God hath abso
lutely commanded you ? And are you heartily sorry that you per
form them no better ? With no more cheerfulness, delight, suc
cess, and constancy ?
IV. Are you so thoroughly convinced of the worth of everlasting
happiness, and the intolerableness of everlasting misery, and the
truth of both; and of the sovereignty of God the Father, and Christ
the Redeemer, and your many engagements to him ; and of the
necessity and good of obeying, and the evil of sinning, that you are
truly willing, that is, have a settled resolution to cleave to Christ,
and obey him in the dearest, most disgraceful, painful, hazardous,
flesh-displeasing duties ; even though it should cost you the loss of
all your worldly enjoyments, and your life ?
V. Doth this willingness or resolution already so far prevail in
your heart and life, against all the interest and temptations of the
world, the devil, and your flesh, that you do ordinarily practise
the most strict and holy, the most self-denying, costly, and hazar
dous duties that you know God requireth of you, and do heartily
strive against all known sin, and overcome all gross sins ; and
when you fall under any prevailing temptation, do rise again by re
pentance, and begging pardon of God, through the blood of Christ,
do resolve to watch and resist more carefully for the time to come ?
In these five marks is expressed the Gospel-description of a true
Christian. Having laid down these marks, I must needs add a few words
for the explaining of some things in them, lest you mistake the
meaning, and so lose the benefit of them.
i. Observe that it is your willingness, which is the very point to
be tried. And therefore, 1. Judge not by your bare knowledge.
2. Judge not by the stirring or passionate workings of your affec
tions. I pray you forget not this rule in any of your self-examin-
ings. It is the heart that God requireth. " My son, give me thy
heart;" Prov. xxiii. 26. If he hath the will, he hath the heart.
Vol. I. 42

330 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
He may have much" of our knowledge, and not our heart. But
when we know him so thoroughly as to will him unfeignedly, then
^h^Jiath our heart. Affectionate workings of the soul to God in
Christ, are sweet things, and high and noble duties and such as all
Christians should strive for. But they are not the safest marks to
try our states by. (1.) Because there may be a solid, sincere in
tention and choice in and of the will, where there is little stirring
perceived of the affections. (2.) Because the will is the master-
commanding faculty of the rational soul ; and so if it be right, that
man is upright and safe. (3.) Because the passions and affections
are so mutable and uncertain. The will can command them but
imperfectly ; it cannot perfectly restrain them from vanities ; much
less can it perfectly raise them to that height, as is suitable to the
excellency of our heavenly objects. But the object itself, with its
sensible manner of apprehension, moves them more than all the
command ofthe will. And so we find by experience, that a god
ly man, when with his utmost private endeavor, he cannot command
one stirring pang of divine love or joy in his soul, yet upon the hear
ing of some moving sermon, or the sudden receiving of some ex
traordinary mercy, or the reading of some quickening book, he
shall feel perhaps some stirring of that affection. So when we can
not weep in private one tear for sin, yet at a stirring sermon, or
when we give vent to our sorrows, and ease our troubled hearts into
the bosom of some faithful friend, then we can find tears. (4.)
Because passions and affections depend so much on the temperature
of the body. To one they are easy, familiar, and at command ; to
another (as honest) they are difficult and scarce stirred at all.
With most women, and persons of weaker tempers, they are easier
than with men. Some cannot weep at the death of a friend,
though never so dear, no, nor perhaps feel very sensible, inward
grief; and yet perhaps would have redeemed his life at a far dear
er rate (had it been possible) than those that can grieve and weep
more abundantly. (5.) Because wordly things have so great an ad
vantage on our passions and affections. 1. They are sensible
and near us, and our knowledge of them is clear. But God is not
to be seen, heard, or felt by our senses, he is far from us, though
locally present with us; we are capable of knowing but little, very

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 331

"**.

little of him. 2. Earthly things are always before our eyes, their
advantage is continual. 3. Earthly things being still the ob
jects of our senses, do force our passions, whether we will or not,
though they cannot force our will's. (6.) Because affections and
passions rise and fall, and neither are nor can be in any even and
constant frame, and therefore are unfit to be the constant or certain
evidence of our state ; but the will's resolution, and choice may 'be
more constant. So that I advise you rather to try yourself by your
will, than by your passionate stirrings of love or longing, of joy or
sorrow. Objec. 'But doth not the Scripture lay as much on love, as on
any grace ? And doth not Christ say, That execpt we love him above
all, we cannot be his disciples ?'
Ans. It is all very true. But consider, love hath two parts; the
one in the will, which is commonally called a faculty of the soul,
as rational ; and this is the same thing that I call willing, accepting,
choosing, or consenting. This complacency is true love to Christ ;
and this is the sure standing mark. The other is the passionate
part, commonly said to be in the soul, as sensitive ; and this,
though most commonly called love, yet is less certain and constant,
and so unfitter to try your state by, though a great duty, so far as
we can reach it.
ii. You must understand and well remember, that it is not every
willingness that will prove your sincerity : for wicked men may
have slight apprehensions of spiritual things, which may produce
some slight desires and wishes, which are yet so feeble and
heartless, that every lust and carnal desire overcomes them ; and
it will not so much as enable them to deny the grossest sin. But it
must be the prevalent part of your will that God must have. I
mean a great share, a deeper and larger room than any thing in the
world ; that is, you must have a higher estimation of God, and
everlasting happiness, and Christ, and a holy life, than of any thing
in the world ; and also your will must be so disposed hereby, and
inclined to God, that if God and glory, lo be obtained through
Christ by a holy, self-denying life, were set before you on the one
hand, and the pleasure, profits, and honors of the world to be en
joyed in a way of sin, on the other hand, you would resolvedly

332 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
-Up
take the former, andrefuse the latter. Indeed they are thus set
before you, and upon your choice dependeth your salvation or dam
nation, though that choice must come from the grace of God.
iii. Yet must you well remember, that this willingness and choice
is still imperfect, and therefore when I mention a hearty willing
ness, I mean not a perfect willingness. There may be, and is
in the most gracious souls on earth, much indisposedness, back
wardness, and withdrawing of heart, which is too great a measure
of unwillingness to duty ; especially to these duties which the flesh
is most averse from, and which require most of God and his Spirit
to the right performance of them.
Among all duties, I think the soul is naturally most backward to
these following. 1 . To secret prayer, because it is spiritual, and
requires great reverance, and hath nothing of external pomp or
form to take us up with, and consistetb not much in tbe exercise
of common gifts, but in the exercise of special grace, and the
breathings of the Spirit, and searchings, pantings, and strivings of
a gracious soul towards God. (I do not speak of the heartless re
peating of bare words, learned by rote, and either not understood,
or not uttered from the feeling of the soul.) 2. To serious medita
tion also is the soul very backward ; diat is, either to meditate on
God, and the promised glory, or any spiritual subject, to this end
that the heart may be thereby quickened and raised, and graces ex
ercised (though to meditate on the same subject, only to know or
dispute on it, the heart is nothing near so backward ;) or else to
meditate on the state of our own hearts, by way of self-examina
tion, or self-judging, or self-reprehension, or self-exciting. 3. Al
so to the duty of faithful dealing with each other's souls, in secret
reproof and exhortation, plainly (though lovingly) to tell each other
of our sins and danger, to this the heart is usually very backward :
pardy through a sinful bashfulness, partly for want of more believ
ing, lively apprehensions of our duty, and our brother's danger,
and partiv because we are loath to displease men and lose their fa
vor, it being grown so common for men to fall out with those (if not
hate diem) that deal plainly and faithfully with them. 4. Also
to take reproof, as well as to give it, the heart is very backward.
Even aodly men. throiuh tho sad remainders of their sinf.iness. do

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 333
too commonly frown, and snarl, and retort our reproofs, and study
presently how to excuse themselves, and put it by, or how to charge
us with something that may stop our mouths, and make the repro
ver, seem as bad as themselves. Though they dare not tread our
reproofs under feet, and turn again, and all to rend us, yet they oft
shew the remnants of a dogged nature, though when they review
their ways it costs diem sorrow. We must sugar and butter our
words, and make them liker to stroking than striking, liker an ap
proving tiian a reproving them, liker a flattery than faithful dealing,
and yet when we have all done, they go down very hardly, and
that but half way, even with many godly people when they are un
der a temptation. 5. The like may be said of all those duties
which do pinch upon our credit or profit, or tend to disgrace us, or
impoverish us in the world ; as the confessing of a disgraceful
fault; the free giving to the poor or sacred uses, according to our
estates'"; the parting with our own right or gain for peace ; the pa
tient suffering of wrong, and forgiving it heartily, and loving bitter,
abusive enemies, especially the running upon the stream of men's
displeasure, and incurring the danger of being utterly undone in our
worldly state (especially if men be rich, who do therefore as hard
ly get to heaven as a camel through a needle's eye ;) and above
all, the laying down of our lives for Christ. It cannot be expected,
that godly men should perform all these with perfect willingness ;
the flesh will play its part, in pleading its own cause, and will strive
hard to maintain its own interests. O the shifts, the subtle argu
ments, or at least the clamorous and importunate contradictions that
all these duties will meet with in the best, so far as they are renewed,
and their graces weak ! So that you may well hence conclude that
you are a sinner, but you may not conclude that you are graceless,
because of a backwardness and some unwillingness to duty.
Yet your willingness must be greater than your unwillingness,
and so Christ must have the prevailing part of your will ; and from
that the denomination is usually taken. So that Scripture useth
to affirm God's people to be willing even when they fail in the ex
ecution. So Paul (Rom. vii. IS.) saith, " To will is present with
me, when how to do or perform he found not;" that is, not to
obey so perfectly as he would do ; not to love God so intensely

334 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
and fervently ; not to subdue passions and lusts so thoroughly ;
not to watch our thoughts, and words, and ways so narrowly, and
order them so exactly, as the bent of his will did consent to. And
lest any Arminian should pretend (as they do) that Paul speaks
here in the person of an unregenerate man, as under the convic
tions of the law, and not as a man regenerate; it is plain in the
text that he speaks ofTiimself in the state which he was then in,
and that the state was a regenerate state. He expressly saith, it is
thus, and thus with me ; " So then I myself with my mind do serve
the law of God, but with my flesh do serve the law of sin ;" ver.
25. And to put it out of doubt, the apostle speaks the like of all
christians, "Gal. v. 17. " For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and
the Spirit against the flesh, and these are contrary the one to the
other, so that ye cannot do the things that ye would." This is
the plain exposition of Rom. vii. Here scripture maketh the god
ly willing to do more than they do or can do, but yet it is not^a
perfect willingness, but it is the prevailing inclination and choice of
the will, and that gives the name.
iv. Observe further, that I add your actual performance of duty ;
because true hearty willingness will shew itself in actions and en
deavors. It is but dissembling, if I should say I am willing to
perform the strictest, holiest duties, and yet do not perform them ;
to say I am willing to pray, and pray not ; or to give to the poor, t
and yet give not ; or to perform the most self-denying costly duties,
and yet when it should come to the practice, I will not be persua
ded or drawn to them ; I will not confess a disgraceful sin, nor
further a good cause to my danger, cost or trouble ; 'nor reprove,
nor submit to reproof, nor turn from the way of temptations or the
like. Action must discover true willingness. The son that said to
his father, " I go, Sir," but went not to labor in the vineyard, was
not accepted or justified. If therefore you are in doubt whether
your willingness be sincere, inquire into your practice, and per
formance. God commandeth you to pray, to instruct your family,
to be merciful to the poor, to forgive those that wrong you, &c.
The flesh and the devil persuade you from these. Do you perform
them, or do you not? Though you may do it with backwardness
and dulness, and weakness, yet do you do it ? And desire you

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. C..5f>
could do it better, and lament your misdoing it ? And endeavor to
do it better than you have formerly done ? This shews then that
the Spirit prevaileth, though the flesh do contradict it.
. v. Yet here you must carefully distinguish of duties; for God hath
made some to be secondary parts of the condition of the covanant,
and so of flat necessity for the continuance oi our justification, and
for the attaining of glorification. Such are confessing Christ be
fore men when we are called to it ; confessing sin, praying, shew
ing mercy to the poor, forgiving wrongs, hearing and yielding to
God's word, &ic. still supposing that there be opportunity and ne
cessities for the performance of these. But some duties there are
that God hath not laid so great a stress or necessity on, though yet
the wilful resolved omission in ordinary, of any known duty, is con
trary to' the nature of true obedience.
Also, the case may much differ with several persons, places and
seasons; concerning duty ; that may be a duty to one man, that is
not to another ; and at one place which is not at another ; and at
one season, which is not at another. And that may be a greater
duty, and of indispensable necessity to one, which to another is
not so great. It may stand with true grace, to omit that duty
which men know not to be a duty, or not to be so to them (except
where the duty is such, as is itself of absolute necessity to salva
tion ;) but it cannot so stand with grace in those that know it, ordi
narily to reject it.
vi. Also you must understand, that when I say, that true willing
ness to be ruled by Christ, will shew itself in actual obedience ; I
do not mean it of every particular individual act which is our duty,
as if you should judge yourself graceless for every particular omis
sion of a duty ; no, though you knew it to be a duty ; and though
you considered it to be a duty. For, 1. There may be a true ha
bituated inclination and willingness to obey Christ rooted in the
heart, when yet by the force of a temptation, the actual prevalency
of it at that time, in that act, may be hindered and suppressed.
2 . And at the same time, you do hold on in a course of obedience
in other duties. 3. And when the temptation is overcome, and
grace hath been roused up against the flesh, and you soberly recol
lect your thoughts, you will return to obedience in that duty also.

336 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Yea, how many days, or weeks, or months, a true Christian may
possibly neglect a known duty, I will not dare to determine, (of
which more anon.) Yet such omissions as will not stand with a
sincere resolution and willingness to obey Christ universally (I mean
an habitual willingness) will not consist with the truth of grace.
vii. I know the fourth mark, about forsaking all for Christ, may.
seem somewhat unseasonable and harsh to propound for the quiet
ing of a troubled conscience. But yet, I durst not omit it, seeing
Christ hath not omitted it ; nay, seeing he hath so urged it, and
laid such a stress on it in the Scripture as he hath done, I dare not
daub, nor be unfaithful, for fear of troubling. Such skinning over
the wound will but prepare for more trouble and a further cure.
Christ thought it meet even to tell young beginners ofthe worsf,
(though it might possibly discourage them, and did turn some back)
that they might not come to him upon mistaken expectations, and
he requireth all thajwill be Christians, and be saved, to count their
cost beforehand, and reckon what it will stand them in to be
Christ's disciples ; and if they cannot undergo his terms (that is,
to deny themselves, take up their cross, forsake all and follow him)
they cannot be his disciples. And Christ had rather they knew it
beforehand, than to deceive themselves, or to turn back when they
meet with what they never thought of, and then to imagine that
Christ had deceived them, and drawn them in, and done the
wrong. vii. When I say in the fourth mark, that you must have a settled
resolution, I mean the same thing as before I did by hearty wil
lingness. But it is meeter here to call it resolution, because this
is the proper name for that act ofthe will, which is a determination
of itself upon deliberation, after any wavering, to the doing or sub
mitting to any thing as commanded. I told you it mnst be the
prevailing act of the will that must prove you sincere : every cold
ineffectual wish will not serve turn. Christ seeks for your heart on
one side, and the world with its pleasures, profits, and honors on
the other side. The soul, which upon consideration of both, doth
prefer Christ in his choice, and reject the world (as it is competitor
with him) and this not doubtingly and with reservation for further
deliberation or trial, but presently passeth his consent for better and

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 337
worse, this is said to be a resolving. And I know no one word
that more fitly expresseth the nature of that grace which differ-
enceth a true. Christian from all hypocrites, and by which a man
may safely judge of his estate.
ix. Yet I here add, that it must be a settled resolution ; and that
to intimate, that it must be an habitual willingness or resolution.
The prevalency of Christ's interest in the soul must be an habitual
prevalency. If a man that is terrified by a rousing sermon, or that
lieth in expectation of present death, should actually resolve to for
sake sin, or perform duty, without any further change of mind, or
habit, or fixedness of this resolution, it would be of no great value,
and soon extinguished. Though yet I believe that no unsanctified
man doth ever attain to that full resolution for Christ, which hath a
complacency in Christ accompanying it, and which may be termed
the prevailing part of the will. Those that seem resolved to day to
be for Christ, and to deny the world and the flesh, and the next day
are unresolved again, have cause to suspect that they were never
truly resolved. Though the will of a godly man may lie under
declinings in the degrees of resolution, yet Christ hath always his
habitual resolutions, and usually his actual in a prevalent degree.
x. I add also the grounds (in the fourth mark) on which this
resolution must be raised. For false grounds in the understanding
will not bear up a true resolution in the will. And therefore we put
the articles of our creed before our profession of consent and obe
dience. Sound doctrine and sound belief of it breeds arsound reso
lution, and makes a sound heart and life. If a man resolve to
obey Christ, upon a conceit that Christ will never put hiin upon any
suffering (else he would not resolve it) and that he will give him
such brutish pleasures when he is dead, as Mahomet hath promised
to his disciples, this resolution were not sound, yet in many lesser
points of doctrine a true Christian may be unsound, and yet sound
ly cleave to the foundation. He may build hay and stubble possi
bly ; but the foundation must be held.
xi. Observe well (lest you mistake me) that I speak only ofthe
necessity of your present resolving to forsake all for Christ, if he
call you to it ; but I speak not of your absolute promise or predic
tion, that eventually you shall not deny or forsake him. You may
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338 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
be uncertain how you shall be upheld in a day of trial, and yet
you may now be resolved or fully purposed in your own mind what
to do. To say, ' I will not consent, purpose or resolve, unless I
were certain to perform my resolutions, and not to flag or change
again ;' this is but to say, ' I will be no Christian, unless I were sure
to persevere. I will not be married to Christ, lest I should be
drawn to break my covenant with him.'
xii. Also observe, that when I speak of your resolving to forsake
all for Christ, it is not to cast away your state or life, but to sub
mit it to his dispose, and to relinquish it only in case that he com
mand you SO.
xiii. And I do not intend that you should be able thus to resolve
of yourself without the special grace of God ; nor yet without it to
continue those resolutions, much less to perform them by actual
suffering. Object. ' But I cannot be sure that God will give me grace to
persevere, or at least not to deny him, as Peter did ; and there
fore I should neither promise nor resolve what I cannot be certain
to perform.'
Answ. 1. I suppose you have read the many Scriptures and ar-
gumentSjWhich our divines ordinarily use to prove that the true be
lievers shall not fall quite away. And I know not how the oppos-
ers can answer that text which themselves use to allege for the con
trary ; Matt. xiii. 6. 21. Those that believe for a time, and in
the time of persecution fall away, it is because the seed had not
depth of earth, the word never took rooting in their hearts. Whence
it seems that it may be well inferred, that those shall not fall away
in time of temptation, in whom the word of God hath taken deep
rooting. And that is, in them in whose hearts or wills Christ hath
a stronger interest than the creature, or those that have a well-
grounded, unreserved, habituated or settled resolution to be for
Christ. 2. However, your present resolution, and your covenant
ing with Christ, is no more but this ; to say, ' I do consent ;' or
' This I am resolved to do, by the help of God's grace.' 3. Else
no man should be baptized or become a Christian, because he is
uncertain to keep his covenants : for all that are baptized, do cove
nant and vow, " to forsake the world, flesh, devil," and fight under

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 339
Christ's banner to their lives' end. Understand me therefore, that
you are not to promise to do this by your own strength, but by the
strength of Christ, as knowing that he hath promised his Spirit and
grace for the aid of every true believer.
xiv. If your resolution at present be hearty, you ought not to vex
and disquiet your mind, with doubtful tormenting fears what you
should do, if you be put to it to forsake all, and suffer death for
Christ, for he hath promised to lay no more on us than we can
bear, but with the temptation will make us a way to come forth ;
1 Cor. x. 13 ; eidier he will not bring us into trials beyond our
strength ; or else he will increase our strength according to our tri
als. He hath bid us pray, " Lead us not into temptation, but de
liver us from evil :" and he hath promised, that " whatsoever we
ask in the name of Christ according to his will, he will give us."
So that if once you can but truly say, that it is your full resolution
to forsake all for Christ if he call you to it, and that on the fore-
mentioned grounds, you. ought not then to vex your soul with fears
of the issue ; for that is but to distrust God your Father and your
strength. Only you must be careful to do your duty to the keeping
up of your present resolutions, and to wait obediently on God for
the help of his Spirit, and to beg it earnestly at his hands.
xv. Much less is it lawful for men to feign and suppose such ca
lamities to themselves, as God doth never try men by, and then to
ask themselves, ' Can I bear these for Christ ?' And so to try
themselves on false and dangerous grounds. Some use to be trou
bled, lest if they were put to long and exquisite torments for Christ,
they should renounce him. One saith, ' I cannot endure the tor
ments of hell for Christ ;' another saith, ' Could I endure to be
roasted, or torn in pieces so many weeks or days together ?' Or
' Could I endure to die so many times over?' These are foolish,
sinful questions, which Christ never desired you to put to your
selves. He never tries men's faith on this manner. Tormentors
cannot go beyond his will. Nay, it is but very few he tries by
death, and fewer by an extreme tormenting death. All this there
fore proceeds from error.
xvi. Observe from the fifth mark, that the present prevalency of
your resolutions now against those temptations which you encoun-

340 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ter with, may well encourage you to expect that they should pre
vail hereafter, if God bring you into greater trials. Can you now
follow Christ in a holy life, though, your flesh repine, and would
have its liberties and pleasures ; and though the world deride or
threaten you, or great ones turn against you and threaten your un
doing ? Can you part with your money to the poor, or to the pro
moting of any work of Christ, according to the measure of estate
that God hath allotted you, notwithstanding all temptations to the
contrary ? Some trials you have now ; if you can go well through
these, you have no cause to disquiet your mind with fears of falling
in greater trials. But he that cannot now deny his greedy appe
tite in meats and drink, so far as to forbear excess : nor can deny
his credit with men, nor bear the scorns or frowns ofthe world, but
be on the stronger side, and decline his duty to avoid danger, what
ever become of conscience or God's favor, this man is not like to
forsake and lay down his life for Christ and his cause.
Object. ' But though I break through lesser trials, I am not sure
to overcome in greater, for the same measure of grace will not ena
ble a "man to forsake all, which will enable him to forsake a little.
Many have gone through smaller trials, and after forsaken Christ in
greater. And Christ makes it the property of temporaries that are
not rooted in the faith, that they fall when tribulation and persecu
tion for the Gospel ariseth, and therefore it seems they may stand
till then ; and if trial never come, they may never fall, and yet be
unsound in the mean time.'
Answ. 1. If your trial now be considerable, the truth of grace
may be manifested in it, though it be none of the greatest, and
though in striving against sin you have not yet resisted unto blood.
2. If you carefully observe your own heart, you may discern wheth
er the Spirit and your resolutions be prevalent, by their daily sub
duing and mortifying the flesh and its lusts. Nay, let me tell you,
the victory of God's Spirit over the flattering, enticing world in
prosperity, is as great and glorious, if not more, than that over the
frowning, persecuting world in adversity. And therefore find the
one, and you need not fear the other. Though I confess that hy
pocrites do not fall so visibly and shamefully always in prosperity
as in adversity ; for they have more pretences, advantages, and car-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 341
naj shifts, to hide the shame of their falls. And for that in the par
able in Matt. xiii. I pray you mark one thing. Cbrist seems to
speak of every several sort of hearers by a gradation, speaking last
of those that go farthest. The first sort, are the common, ignorant,
negligent hearers, in whom the word takes no root at all. The se
cond sort are those that give it a slight and shallow rooting, but
no deep rooting at all ; these are they that fall away in tribulation.
By falling away, is meant the plain deserting Christ or the sub
stance of his cause. These men till this falling away, though they
professed Christ, and heard the word with joy, yet no doubt did
not crucify the flesh and the world, whereby they might have dis
covered their unsoundness if they would, before tribulation came.
First, by discerning that the word was not deep rooted : 1. In their
judgment and estimation. 2. Or in their wills and settled resolu
tion. Secondly ; and by discerning the unmortified lusts of their
hearts in the mean time. But it seems the third sort of hearers,
likened to the thorny ground, went further than these ; for here it
is only said by Luke, viii. 14, " That they bring no fruit to perfec
tion." However, whether these went farther than the other, or not,
it is certain that these also had their trial, and fell in the trial. The
deceitfulness of riches overturned these, as the heat of persecution
overturned the other. So that it is evident that prosperity puts
faith to the trial, as well as adversity. But mark the different man
ner of their falls and overthrows. They that are overthrown by
adversity, are said to fall away, that is, to forsake Christ openly ;
but they that fall by prosperity, are not said to fall away ; but only
that the " deceitfulness of riches, and cares ofthe world, choke the
word, so that it becomes unfruitful ;" that is, brings no fruit to per
fection. For usually these do not openly forsake Christ, but continue
oft an unfruitful and hypocritical profession ; insomuch that at that
very time, when the word is choked and fruitless, yet the blade of
profession may be as green as ever, and they may be so much in
some duties, and have such golden words, and witty shifts to plead
for every covetous practice, and put so fair a gloss on all their ac
tions, that they may keep up the credit of being very eminent
Christians. So that if your grace can carry you well through pros
perity, you may be confident of the truth of it. 3. And then if it

342 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
be thus proved true and saving, you have cause to be confident ttiat
it will hold out in adversity also, and cause you to overcome the
shake of tribulation. I think most men are better in adversity than
in prosperity', though I confess no adversity is so shaking, as that
which leaves it in a man's choice to come out of it by sinning. As
for a man in health to be persecuted, and the persecutor to say, ' If
thou wilt turn to my side and way, I will give diee thy life and pre
ferment with it ;' but sickness or other sufferings imposed only by
God, and which only God can take off, are nothing so shaking.
For as the former draws us to please men, that they may deliver
us, so this draws even the wicked to think of pleasing God, that he
may deliver them.
xvii. Observe that when I ask' whether this resolution do already
prevail,' I do not mean any perfect prevailing ; nay, sin may pre
vail to draw you to a particular act (and how many I will not
undertake to tell you) and yet still grace and the Spirit do conquer
in the main. For you will say, that general and army get the vic
tory who vanquish the other, and win the field, though yet perhaps
a troop or regiment may be routed, and many slain.
xviii. When I speak of your ' overcoming all gross sins,' as I mean
in ordinary, not doubting but it is too possible for a believer to com
mit a gross sin ; so I confess that it is hard to tell just which sins
are ' to be called gross, and which infirmities only ; or (as some
speak) which are mortal, and which not. And therefore this mark
hath some difficulties, as to the right trying of it (of which more
anon.) xix. Yet I desire that you join them all together in trial, seeing
it is in the whole that the true and full description of a Christian
is contained. The same description of a true Christian (pre
supposing his right belief) I have drawn up in our public church
profession, which in this county, the ministers have agreed on ;
in the profession of consent in these words ; ' I do heartily take this
one God for my only God and chief good ; and this Jesus Christ
for my only Lord, Redeemer and Savior ; and this Holy Ghost
for my Sanctifier; and the doctrine by him revealed and sealed by
his miracles, and now contained in the Holy Scriptures, do I take
for the law of God, and the rule of my faith and life : and repent-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 343
ing unfeignedly of my sins, I do resolve through the grace of God
sincerely to obey him, both in holiness to God, and righteousness
to man, and in special love to the saints, and communion with them,
against all the temptations ofthe devil, the world, and my own flesh,
and this to death.' He that sincerely can speak these words, is a
sincere Christian.
xx. Lastly, that you may see that those five which I laid you
down are all true marks, do but peruse these texts of Scripture fol
lowing. For the first, Psalm xvi. 5. 2. lxxiii. 24 — 28. iv. 6. 7.
i. 1— 3. Josh. xxiv. 16— 18. 21— -24. Matt. vi. 19— 21. Rom.
vii. 24. viii. 17. 18.23. Heb.xi. 10. 15, 16.25—27. Psalm
xvi. 5 — 8. For the second, see John i. 10 — 12. iii. 16. Mark
xvi. 16. Acts xvi. 31. John xiv. 21. xvi. 27. Rom. xiv. 9.
Luke xvi. 27. James i. 12. Matt. xxii. S7. 1 Cor. xvi. 22.
Matt. x. 37. Rev. xxii. 14. Heb. v. 9. For the third, most of
the same will serve, and Heb. xii. 14. Matt. vii. 24. Psalm i.
2, 3. Matt. v. 20. Acts x. 35. Rom. vii. 22. For the two
last besides the former, see Heb. xi. 6. Rom. viii. 1 — 14. Gal.
v. 17.24. vi. 8. 1 Tim. vi. 9. Luke viii. 13. 1 Johnii. 15.
v. 4, 5. James i. 27. iv. 4. Gal. vi. 14. i. 4. Rom. xii. 2.
Titus ii. 14. Matt. x. 37. Rom. ii. 5— 7. Rev. xiv. 13. Phil.
ii. 14. Col. iii. 23, 24. 1 Cor. iii. 8. 14. John xii. 16. 1
John iii. 22, 23. Gen. xxii. 16. Matt. x. 22. xxiv. 13. Heb.
iii. 6. 14. vi. 11. Rev. ii. 26. 10. xii. 11. Matt.xvi. 25. x»
39. Mark xvii. 33. Rom. viii. 9. 13. Luke xiii. 3. 5. Rom.
vi. 4—6. 12. 14. 16, 17. 22.
And thus I have given you such marks as you may safely try
yourself by, and cleared the meaning of them to you. Now let me
advise you to this use of them. 1 . In your serious self-examina
tion, try only by these, and not by any uncertain marks. I know
there be promises of life made to some particular duties and single
qualifications in Scripture, as to humility, meekness, alms-deeds,
love to the godly, etc. ; but it is still both on supposition that they
be not single in the person, but are accompanied with, and flow
from that faith and love to God before-mentioned ; and also that
they are in a prevailing degree.
3. Whenever any fresh doubtings arise in you upon the stirrings

344 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
of corruption, or debility of graces, still have recourse to these for
mer marks ; and while you find these, let not any thing cause you
to pass wrong judgments on yourself. Lay these now to your own
heart, and tell me, ' Are you not unfeignedly willing to have Christ
on the terms that he is offered ? Are you not willing to be more
holy ? And beg of him to make you so ? Would you not be glad
if your soul were more perfectly sanctified, and rid of that body of
sin, though it were to the smart and displeasing of your flesh ?
Are you not willing to wait on God, in the use of his ordinances,
in that poor weak measure as you are able to perform them ? Durst
you, or would you quit your part in God, heaven, Christ,' and for
sake the way of holiness, and do as the profane world doth, though
it were to please your flesh, or save your state or life ? Do you
not daily strive against the flesh and keep it under, and deny its
desires ? Do you not deny the world when it would hinder you
from works of mercy or public good, according to your ability ? Is
it not the grief of your soul when you fall, and your greatest trou
ble that you cannot walk more obediently, innocently and fruitfully ?
And do you -not after sinning resolve to be more watchful for the
time to come ? Are you not resolved to stick to Christ and his
holy laws and ways, whatever changes or dangers come, and rather
to forsake friends and all that you have, than to forsake him ? Yet
in a godly jealousy and distrust of your own heart, do renounce
your own strength, and resolve to do this only in the strength of
Christ, and therefore daily beg it of him? Is it not your daily
care and business to please God and do his wil), and avoid sinning
in your weak measure ?' I hope that all this is so, and your own
case ; which, if it be, you have infallible evidences, and want but
the sight and comfort of them ; you have the true grounds for as
surance, though you want assurance itself ; your chief danger is
over, though your trouble remain. Your soul is at the present in
a safe condition, though not in the sense of it. You are in the state
of salvation, though not of consolation. It must be your next work
therefore to study God's mercies, and take notice what he hath
done for your soul. Let not so blessed a guest as the Holy Ghost
dwell in you unobserved. Shall he do such wonders in you, and
for you, and you not know it, or acknowledge it ? Shall he new-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 345
beget you, and new-make you, and produce a spiritual and-heaven-
ly nature in you, who of yourself were so carnal and earthly, and
will you not observe it ? Had you any of these holy desires, en
deavors, or resolutions of yourself by nature ? Or have the un
godly about you any of them ? O that you knew what a work of
wonderful mercy, wisdom and power, the Spirit performeth in the
renewing of a soul ; then sure you would more observe and ad
mire his love to you herein !
Direct. XII. The next rule for your direction for the right set
tling of your peace is this. ' You must know, that assurance of
justification, adoption, and right of salvation, cannot be gathered
from the smallest degree of saving grace.'
Here I must say something for explaining my meaning to you ;
and then give you my reasons of this assertion.
1 . Understand that I speak of God's ordinary working by means,
not denying but God may, by a voice from heaven, or an angel, or
other supernatural revelation, bestow assurance on whom he pleas
ed] . But I hope all wise Christians will take heed of expecting
this, or of trusting too much to seeming revelations, unless they
could prove that God useth to confer assurance in this way ; which
I think they cannot.
2. By the smallest degree of grace, I mean, of faith, love, obe
dience, and those saving graces, whose acts are the condition of our
salvation, and which in the fore-expressed marks I laid down to
you. Do not therefore so mistake me, as to think that I speak of a
small measure of those common gifts which are separable from true
sanctification ; such as are extensive knowledge, memory, ability
of utterance in preaching, repeating, exhorting or praying ; an or
nate, plausible winning deportment before men, such as is com
monly called good breeding or manners ; an affected, humble, corri-
plimental familiarity and condescension, to creep into men's estima
tion and affections, and steal their hearts, &c. Many a one that is
strong in saving grace, is weak in all these, and other the like.
Now for my reasons.
1. I conceive that it is not possible for any minister punctually
to set down a discernible difference between the least measure of
true saving grace, and the highest degree of common grace ; and to
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346 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
say, just here it is that they part, or by this you may discern them.
I do but say, I think so, because other men may know far more than
I do ; but I will say it is as certain, that I am not able to do it, for
my own part. This much I can tell, that the least degree of grace
that is saving, doth determine the soul for God and Christ, against
the world and flesh, that stand as competitors ; and so where
Christ's interest prevaileth in the least measure, there is the least
measure of saving grace. As when you are weighing two things in
the balance, and at last make it so near even weight, that one end
is turned and no more : so when you are considering whether to be
for Christ, or for the flesh and the world, and your will is but even
a very little determined to Christ, and preferreth him ; this is the
least measure of saving grace. But then how a poor soul should
discern this prevalent choice and determination of itself is all the
question. For there is nothing more easy and common than for
men to think verily, that they prefer Christ above the creature, as
long as no temptation doth assault them, nor sensual objects stand
up in any considerable strength to entice them. Nay, wicked
men do truly, ofttimes, purpose to obey Christ before the flesh, and
to take him for their Lord, merely in the general, when they do
not know or consider the quality of his laws ; that they are so strict
and spiritual, and contrary to the flesh, and hazardous to their
worldly hopes and seeming happiness. But when it conies to par
ticulars, and God saith, ' Now deny thyself, and thy friend, and
thy goods, and thy life for my sake ;' alas, it was never his resolu
tion to do it ; nor will he be persuaded to it. But he that said to
God, who sends him to labor in his vineyard, " I go, Sir," when
he comes to find the unpleasingness of the work, he goes not, nor
ever sets a hand to it. So that it is evident, that it is no true, saving
resolution or willingness, which prevaileth not for actual obedience.
Now here comes in the unresolvable doubt. What is the least
measure of obedience, that will prove a man truly willing and re
solved, or to have truly accepted of Christ for his Lord ? This
obedience lieth in performing what is commanded, and avoiding
what is forbidden. Now it is too certain, that every true believer is
guilty of a frequent neglect of duty, yea, of known duty. We
know we should love God more abundantly, and delight in him,

SPIRITUAL PEACE AN!) COMFORT. 3 17
and meditate more on him, and pray more oft and earnestly than
we do, and instruct our families more diligently, and speak against
sin more boldly, and admonish our neighbors more faithfully, with
many the like. " The good that we would do, we do not ;" Rom.
vii. 19. Nay, the flesh so striveth against the Spirit, that " we
cannot do the good we would ;" Gal. v. 17. Nay, many a true
Christian in time of temptation, hath been drawn to omit secret
prayer, or family duties, almost wholly for a certain space of time ;
yea, and perhaps to be so corrupted in his judgment for a time, as
to think he doth well in it, as also in forbearing praising God by
psalms, receiving the sacraments, and communicating with the
church, hearing the word publicly, etc. (for what duty almost is not
denied of late ?) and perhaps may not only omit relieving the poor
for a time, but excuse it. Now what man can punctually deter
mine just how often a true Christian may be guilty of any such
omission ? and just how long he may continue it ? and what the du
ties be which he may possibly so omit, and what not ?
So also in sins of commission. Alas, what sins did Noah, Lot,
David, Solomon, Asa, Peter, etc. commit !
If we should say as the Papists and Arminians, that these being
mortal sins, do for the time, till repentance restore him, cast a true
Christian out of God's favor into a state of damnation ; then what
man breathing is able to enumerate those mortal sins, and tell us
which be so damning, and which not ? Nay, if he could say,
drunkenness is one, and gluttony another, who can set the punctual
stint, and say, ' Just so many bits a man must eat before he be a
glutton ; or just so much he must drink before he be a drunkard ?
or by such a sign the turning point may be certainly known ?' We
may have signs by which we may be tried at the bar of man ; but
these are none of them taken from that smallest degree, which spe-
cifieth and denominates the sin before God. If we avoid the fore
said opinion that one such sin doth bring us into the state of dam
nation, yet is the difficulty never the less ; for it is certain, that
" he that commits sin is of the devil ;" 1 John iii. 8. and there
are spots, which are not the spots of God's children ; and all true
faith will mortify the world to us, and us to it, (Gal. vi. 14.) and
" he that is in Christ hath crucified the flesh, with the affections

348 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
and lusts thereof," (chap. v. 24. ;) and that " if we live after the
flesh we shall die ;" Rom. viii. 1 3. And " his servants we are to
whom we obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto
righteousness ;" chap. vi. 16. And " if we delight in iniquity, or
regard it, God will not hear our prayers ;" Psal. lxvi. 18. And
that " he that nameth the name of Christ must depart from iniqui
ty ;" 1 Tim. ii. 19. And that " God will judge all men accord
ing to their works," and bid the workers of iniquity depart from
him ; Matt. vii. 23. Now can any man on earth tell us just how
great, or how often sinning will stand with true grace, and how
much will not ? Who can find those punctual bounds in the word
of God ? I conclude, therefore, that no minister, or at least, none
who is no wiser than I am, can give a true, discernible difference
between the worst of saints, and the best of the unsanctioned, or the
weakest degree of true grace, and the highest of common grace ;
and so to help such weak Christians to true assurance of their sal-?
vation. 2. But as this is impossible to be declared by tbe teachers, so
much more is it impossible to be discerned by the persons them
selves, yea, though it could possibly be declared to them ; and that
for these reasons.
1. From the nature of the thing. Small things are hardly dis
cerned. A little is next to none. 2. From the great darkness of
man's understanding, and his unacquaintedness with himself (both
the nature, faculties, and motions of his soul, naturally considered,
and the moral state, dispositions, and motions of it,) and is it likely
that so blind an eye can discern the smallest thing, and that in so
strange and dark a place? Every purblind man cannot see an
atom, or a pin, especially in the dark. 3. The heart is deceitful
above all things, as well as dark ; full of seemings, counterfeits,
and false pretences. And a child in grace is not able to discover
its jugglings, and understand a book, where almost every word is
equivocal or mysterious. 4. The heart is most confused, as well
as dark and deceitful ; it is like a house, or shop of tools, where all
things are thrown together on a heap, and nothing keeps its own
place. There are such multiplicity of cogitations, fancies, and pas
sions, and such irregular thronging in of them, and such a confused

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 349
reception, and operation of objects and conceptions, that it is a won
derful difficult thing for the best Christian to discern clearly the
bent and actions, and so the state of his own soul. For in such a
crowd of cogitations and passions, we are like men in a fair or crowd
of people, where a confused noise may be heard, but you cannot
well perceive what any of them say, except either some one near you
that speaks much louder than all the rest, or else except you single
out some one from the rest, and go close to him to confer with him
of purpose. Our intellect and passions are like the lakes of water
in the common roads, where the frequent passage of horses doth so
muddy it, that you can see nothing in it, especially that is near
the bottom ; when in pure untroubled waters you may see a small
thing. In such a confusion and tumult as is usually in men's souls,
for a poor weak Christian to seek for the discovery of his sincerity,
is according to the proverb, to seek for a needle in a bottle of hay.
5. Besides all this, the corrupt heart of man is so exceedingly
backward to the work of sslf-examination, and the use" of other
means, by which the soul should be familiarly acquainted with itself,
that in a case of such difficulty it will hardly ever overcome them,
if it were a thing that might be done. In the best, a great deal of
resolvedness, diligence, and unwearied constancy in searching into
the state of the soul, is necessary to the attainment of a settled as
surance and peace. How much more in them that have so small,
and almost undiscernible a measure of grace to discover. 6. Yet
further, the conceptions, apprehensions, and consequently the sen
sible motions of the will, and especially the passions, are all naturally
exceeding mutable ; and while the mobile, agile spirits are any way
the instruments, it will be so ; especially where the impression
which is made in the understanding is so small and weak. Natur
ally man's mind and will is exceeding mutable, and turned into a
hundred shapes in a few days, according as objects are presented to
us, and the temperature ofthe body disposeth, helps, or hinders the
mind. Let us hear one man reason the case, and we think he
makes all as clear as the light ; let us hear another solve all his ar
guments, and dispute for the contrary, and then we see that our ap
prehensions were abused. Let us hear him reply and refute all
again, and confirm his cause, and then we think him in the right

350 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
again. Nothing more changeable than the conceivings and mind
of man, till he be thoroughly resolved and habituated. Now in this
case, how shall those who have but little grace, be able to discern
it? It will not keep the mind from fluctuating. If they seem re
solved for obedience to Christ to-day, to-morrow they are so sha
ken by some enticing object, and force of the same temptation, that
their resolution is undiscernible ; nay, actually they prefer sin at
that time before obedience. It is impossible then but the soul
should stagger and be at a loss ; for it will judge of itself as it finds
itself, and it cannot discern the habitual prevalency of Christ's in
terest, when they feel the actual prevalency of the flesh's interest.
For the act is the only discoverer of the habit. And if Peter him
self should have fallen to the examination of his heart, whether he
preferred Christ before his life, at the same time when he was de
nying and forswearing Christ to save his life, do you think he could
have discerned it ? And yet even then Christ's interest was greatest
in him habitually. If David should have gone to search, whether he
preferred obedience to God, before his fleshly pleasure, when ho
was committing adultery ; or before his credit, when he was plot
ting the death of Uriah, what discovery do you think he would have
made ? 7. Add to all these, that as these several distempers, were
they but in the same measure in a weak Christian, as they are
in the best or in most, would yet make the smallest measure of
grace undiscernible (if we might suppose the smallest grace to be
consistent with such a frame ;) so it is certain, that whoever he be
that hath the least measure of grace to discover in himself, he hath
porportionably the least measure of abilities and helps to discover
it, and the greatest measure of all the forementioned hindrances.
He that hath but a very little repentance, faith, love, and obedi
ence sincere, when he goeth to find it out, he hath in the same
measure, a darker understanding to discern it than others have;
and a greater strangeness and disacquaintance with himself; and
more deceitfulness in his heart, and a greater confusion and hurly-
burly in his thoughts and affections, and all more out of order and
to seek. Also he hath a greater backwardness to the work of
self-examination, and can hardly get his heart to it, and more hardly
to do it thoroughly, and search to the quick, and most hardly to

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 351
hold on against all withdrawing temptations, till he have made a
clearer discovery. And lastly, his soul is more mutable than strong
er Christians are ; and therefore when cross actings are so frequent,
he cannot discern the smallest prevailing habit. If (when you are
weighing gold) the scales be turned but with one grain, every little
jog, or wind, or unsteadfast holding, will actually lift up the heavier
end ; and its preponderation is with great wavering and mobility.
8. Yet further, consider, that those that have least grace, have
most sin, habitual and actual ; and they are so frequent in trans
gressing, that their failings are still in their eye, and thereby the
prevalency of Christ's interest is made more doubtful and obscure.
For when he asketh his own conscience, ' Do I will or love most
the world and my fleshly delights, or Christ and his ways ?' — pre-
sentlj conscience rememberethhim. At such a time, and such a time
thou didst choose thy fleshly pleasures, profits, or credit, and re
fuse obedience : and it is so oft, and so foully, that the soul is ut
terly at a loss, and cannot discern the habitual prevalent bent and
resolution ofthe will. 9. Besides, conscience is a judge in man's
soul, and will be accusing and condemning men so far as they are
guilty. Now, they that make work for the most frequent and ter
rible accusations of conscience that will stand with true grace, are
unlikely to have assurance. For assurance quiets the soul, and
easeth it ; and a galled conscience works the contrary way. They
that keep open the wound, and daily fret off the skin more, and
are still grating on the galled part, are unlikely to have assurance.
10. Again, these weakest Christians being least in duty, and most
in sinning (of any in whom sin reigneth not,) they are consequently
most in provoking and displeasing God. And they that do so shall
find that God will show them his displeasure, and will displease
them again. They must not look to enjoy assurance, or see the
pleased face of God, till they are more careful to please him, and
are more sparing, and seldom in offending him. As God's univer
sal justice in governing the world, will make as great a difference
between the sincerely obedient, and disobedient, as there is be
tween heaven and hell, so God's paternal justice in governing his
family, will make as wide a difference between the more obedient
children, and the less obedient, as is between his dreadful frowns,

352 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
and his joyous, reviving smiles; or between the smarting rod, or
his encouraging, rewards. 1 1 . If God should give assurance and
peace to the sinning and lea&t obedient believers, he should not fit
his providential-disposals to their good. It is not that which their
state requires, nor would it tend to their cure any more than a heal
ing plaister to a sore that is rotten in the bottom, or a cordial to the
removal of a cacochymy, or the purging out of corrupt,, redundant
humors. They are so inclined to the lethargy of security, that they
have need of continual pinching, striking, or loud calling on, to
keep them waking ; still remember that by this weak Christian, I
mean not every doubting, distressed soul that is weak in their own
apprehension, and little in their own eyes, and poor in spirit; but I
mean those that have the least measure of sincere love to Christ,
and desire after him, and tenderness of conscience, and care to
please God, and the greatest measure of security, worldliness,
pride, flesh-pleasing, and boldness in sinning, which is consistent
with sincerity in the faith. I believe there is no father or mother,
that hath children to govern, but they know by experience, that
there is a necessity of frowns and rods for the more disobedient ;
and that rewards and smiles are no cure for stubbornness or con
tempt. 12. Lastly, do but Well consider, what a solecism in gov
ernment it would be, and what desperate inconveniences it would
have brought into the world, if God should have set such a punc
tual land-mark between his kingdom and the kingdom of satan, as
we are ready to dream of. If God should have said in his word,
just so oft a man may be drunk, or may murder, or commit adul
tery, or steal, or forswear himself, and yet be a true Christian and
be saved ! Or just so far a man may go, in neglecting duty to God
and man, and in cherishing his flesh, hiding his sin, &c., and yet be
a true believer and be saved. This would embolden men in
sianing, and make them think, I may yet venture, for I stand on
safe ground. And it would hinder repentance. Indeed it
would be, the way to rob God of his honor, and multiply provoca
tions against him, and keep his children in disobedience, and bin
der their growth in holiness, and cause a deformity in Christ's
body, and a shame to his religion and sacred name. As for
those that say, assurance never encouragetb men in sin, buJ

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 353
tends to destroy it; I answer, it is true of God's assurance)- season*
ably given to those that are fit for it, and used by them accordingly.
But if God should have told all the world, just how far they may
sin, and yet be certain of salvation, this would have bred assurance
in those that were unfit for it ; and it would have been but- the
putting of new wine into old cracked bottles ; or a new piece into
an old garment, that would break them, or make worse the rent.
I must therefore tell these objectors (I am sorry that so many of
my old acquaintance now harp so much on this Antinomian string,)
that ignorance or error hath so blinded them, that they have for
gotten, or know not, 1. What an imperfect piece the best is in this
life, much more the worst true Christian. 2. Nor what a subtle
devil we have to tempt us. 3. Nor what an active thing corrup
tion is, and what advantage it will take on unreasonable assurance.
4. Nor what the nature of grace and sanctification is ; and how
much of it lies in a godly jealousy of ourselves, and apprehension
of our danger, and that " the fear of God is the beginning of wis
dom :" see Heb. iv. 1. Nay, 5. They have forgotten what a
man is, and how inseparable from his nature is the principle of self-
preservation, and how necessary the apprehension of danger, and
the fear of evil to himself, is to the avoiding of that evil, and so to
his preservation. 6. Yea, if they knew but what a commonwealth
or a family is, they would know that fear of evil, and desire of
self-preservation, is tbe very motive to associations, and the ground
work of all laws and government, and a great part of the life of all
obedience. And thus 1 have fully proved to you, that the smallest measure
of grace cannot help men to assurance in God's ordinary way.
Perhaps you will say, ' What comfort is there in this to a poor
weak christian ?' This is rather the way to put him quite out of
heart and hope. I answer, no such matter. I shall shew the uses
of this observation in the following Directions, In the meantime I
will say but this, The expectation of unseasonable assurance, and
out of God's way, is a very great cause of keeping many in lan
guishing and distress, and of causing others to turn Antinomians,
and snatch at comforts which God never gave them, and to feign
and frame an assurance of their own making, or build upon the de-
Vol. I. 45

354 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
lusions of the great deceiver, transforming himself into angel of
light. Direct. XIII: From the last mentioned observation, there is
one plain consectary arising, which I think you may do well to note
by the way, viz. ' That according to God's ordinary way of giving
grace, it cannot be expected that christians should be able to know
the very time of their first receiving or acting true saving grace,
or just when they were pardoned, justified, adopted, and put into a
state of salvation.'
This must needs be undeniable, if you grant the former point,
That the least measure of grace yieldeth not assurance of its sin
cerity, (which is proved;) and withal, if you grant this plain truth,
That it is God's ordinary way, to give a small measure of grace at the
first. This I prove thus : 1. Christ likeneth God's kingdom of
grace to a grain of mustard-seed, which is at the first, the least of
all seeds, but after cometh to a tree : and to a little leaven, which
leaveneth the whole lump. I will not deny, but this may be ap
plied to the visible progress of the gospel, and increase ofthe church.
But it is plainly applicable also to the kingdom of Christ within us.
2. The scripture oft calleth such young beginners, babes, children,
novices, &c. 3. We are all commanded to grow m grace ; which
implieth, that we have our smallest measure at the first. 4. Heb.
v. 12. sheweth that strength of grace should be according to time
and means. 3. Common experience is an invincible argument for
this. Men are at a distance from Christ, when he first calleth them
to come to him ; and many steps they have toward him before they
reach to him. We are first so far enlightened as too see our sin
and misery, and the meaning and truth of the gospel, and so roused
out of our security, and made to look about us, and see that we
have souls to save or lose, and that it is no jesting matter to be a
christian. And so we come to understand the tenor of this cove
nant, and Christ's terms of saving men. But, alas, how long is it
usually after this, before we come sincerely to yield to his terms,
and take him as he is offered, and renounce the world, flesh, and
die devil, and give up ourselves to him in a faithful covenant ! We
are long deliberating, before we can get our backward hearts to re
solve. How then should a man know just when he was past the

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 355
highest step of common or preparative grace, and arrived at the
first step of special grace ?
Yet mark, that I here speak only of God's ordinary way of giving
grace ; for I doubt not, but in some God may give a higher degree
of grace at the first day of conversion, than some others do attain in
many years. And those may know the time of their true con
version, both because the effect was discernible, and because the
suddenness makes the change more sensible and observable.
But this is not the ordinary course. Ordinarily convictions lie
long on the soul before they come to a true conversion. Con
science is wounded, and smarting long, and long grudging against
our sinful and negligent courses, and telling us of the necessity
of Christ and a holy life, before we sincerely obey conscience, and
give ourselves up to Christ. We seldom yield to the first convic
tion or persuasion. The flesh hath usually too long time given it
to plead its own cause, and to say to the soul, ' Wilt thou forsake
all thy pleasure and merry company, and courses? Wilt thou beg
gar thyself? or make thyself a scorn or mocking-stock to the world ?
Art thou ever able to hold out in so strict a course ? and to be un
done ? and to forsake all, and lay down thy life for Christ ? Is it not
better to venture thyself in the same way as thou hast gone in, as
well as others do, and as so many of thy forefathers have done be
fore thee ?' Under such sinful deliberations as these we usually
continue long before we fully resolve ; and many demurs and de
lays we make before we conclude to take Christ on the terms that
he is offered to us. Now I make no doubt but most or many
christians can remember how and when God stirred their con
sciences, and wakened them from their security, and made them
look about them, and roused them out of their natural lethargy.
Some can tell what sermon first did it ; others can remember by
what degrees and steps God was doing it long. The ordinary way
appointed by God for the doing of it first, is the instruction of pa
rents. And (as I have more fully manifested in my Book of In
fant Baptism) if parents would do their duties, they would find that
the word publicly preached was not appointed to be the first ordi
nary means of conversion and sanctification ; but commonly, grace
would be received in childhood ; I speak not of baptismal relative

35 C DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEP1NC
grace, consisting in the pardon of original sin, nor yet any infusion
of habits before they have the use of reason (because I suppose it is
hid from us, what God doth in that,) but I speak of actual conver
sion ; and I prove that this should be the first ordinary way and
time of conversion- to the children of true christians, because it is
the first means that God hath appointed to be used with them ;
Deut. vi. 6 — 8. Eph. vi. 4. Parents are commanded to teach
their children the law of God urgently at home, and as they walk
abroad, lying down, and rising up ; and to bring them up in the
admonition and nurture of the Lord, and to " train up a child in
the way he should go and when they are old they will not depart
from it ;" Prov. xxii. 6. And children are commanded to " re
member their Creator in the days of their youth ; Eccles. xii. 1.
And if this be God's first great means, then doubtless he will
ordinarily bless his own means here, as well as in the preaching of
the word.
From all this I would have you learn this lesson, That you
ought not trouble yourself with fears and doubts, lest you are not
truly regenerate, because you know not the sermon or the very time
and manner of your conversion ; but find that you have grace, and
then, though you know not just the time or manner of your receiv
ing it, yet you may nevertheless be assured of salvation by it.
Search therefore what you are, and how your will is disposed, and
resolved, and how your life is ordered, rather than to know how
you became such. I know the workings of the Spirit on the soul
may be discerned, because they stir up discernible actings in our
own spirits. The soul's convictions, considerations, resolutions and
affections, are no insensible things. But yet the work of grace
usually begins in common grace, and so proceeds by degrees till it
come to a special saving grace, even as the work of nature doth, first
producing the matter, and then introducing the form ; first produ
cing the embryo, before it introduce a rational soul. And as no
child knows the time or manner of its own formation, vivification or
reception of that soul, so I think few true believers can say, just
such a day, or at such a sermon I became a true justified, sancti
fied man. That was the hour of your true conversion and justifi
cation, when you first preferred God and Christ, and grace before

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. C57
all things in this world, and deliberately and seriously resolved to
take Christ for your Savior and Governor, and give up yourself to
him to be saved, taught and governed, and to obey him faithfully
to the death against all temptations, whatsoever you shall lose or
suffer by it. Now I would but ask those very christians that think
they do know the very sermon that converted them ; Did that ser
mon bring you to this resolution ? Or was it not only some troub
ling rousing preparation hereto ? I think some desperate sickness or
the like affliction is a very usual means to bring resolutions to be
downright and fixed, with many souls that long delayed and fluctu
ated in unresolvedness, and lay under mere ineffectual convictions.
Object. ' But this runs on your own grounds, that saving grace
and common grace do but differ in degrees.'
Answ. I think most will confess that, as to the acts of grace,
and that is it that we are now inquiring after ; and that is all the
means that we have of discerning the habits. Yet remember that
I still tell you, ' That there is a special moral difference, though
grounded but in a gradual natural difference.' Yea, and that one
grain of the Spirit's working, which turns the will in a prevalent
measure for Christ, (together with the illumination necessary there
to) deserves all those eulogies and high titles that are given it in
the word ; so great a change doth it make in the soul ! Well may
it be called 'The new creature:' 'Born of the Spirit:' 'The
new life :' Yea, ' The image of God, and ' The' Divine Nature.'
(If that text be not meant of the Divine Nature in Christ which we
are relatively made partakers of in our union with him.) When
you are weighing things in tbe balance, you may add grain after
grain, and it makes no turning or motion at all till you come to the
very last grain, and then suddenly that end which was downward is
turned upward. When you stand at a loss between two high ways,
and know not which way to go, as long as you are deliberate, you
stand still : all the reasons that come into your mind do not stir
you ; but the last reason which resolves you, setteth you in motion.
So is it in the change of a sinner's heart and life ; he is not changed
(but preparing towards it) while he is but deliberating, whether he
should choose Christ or the world ? But the last reason that comes
in and determined! his will to Christ, and makes him resolve and

358 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
enter a firm covenant with Christ, and say, ' I will have Christ
for better or worse ;' this maketh the greatest change that ever is
made by any work in this world. For how can there be greater
than the turning of a soul from the creature to the Creator ? So
distant are the terms of this change. After this one turning act
Christ hath that heart, and the main bent and endeavors of the life
which the world had before. The man hath a new end, a new rule
and guide, and a new master. Before the flesh and the devil were
his masters, and now Christ is his master. So that you must not
think so meanly ofthe turning, determining, resolving act of grace,
because it lieth but in a gradual difference naturally from common
grace. If a prince should offer a condemned beggar to marry her,
and to pardon her, and make her his queen, her deliberation may
be the way to her consent, and one reason after another may bring
her near to consenting. But it is that which turns her will to con
sent, resolve, covenant and deliver herself to him, which makes the
great change in her state. Yet all the foregoing work of common
grace hath a hand in the change, though only the turning resolution
ado effect it ; it is the rest with this that doth it : as when the last
grain turns the scales, the former do concur. I will conclude with
Dr. Preston's words, in his " Golden Sceptre," page 210 : Object
•* It seems then that the knowledge of a carnal man, and of a re
generate man, do differ but in degrees and not in kind.' Answ
¦* The want of degrees here alters the kind, as in numbers, tbe addi
tion of a degree alters the species and kind.' Read for this also
Dr. Jackson " Of Saving Faith," sect. iii. chap. iii. pp. 297, 298
and frequently in other places. So much for that observation.
Direct. XIV. Yet further I would have you to understand this
' That as the least measure of saving grace is ordinarily undiscerni
ble from the greatest measure of common grace, (notwithstanding
the greatness of the change that it makes) so a measure somewhat
greater is so hardly discernible, that it seldom brings assurance :
and therefore it is only the stronger Christians that attain assurance
ordinarily ; even those who have a great degree of faith and love,
and keep them much in exercise, and are very watchful and care
ful in obedience : and consequently (most Christians being of the

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 359
weaker sort) it is but few that do attain to assurance of their justifi
cation and salvation.'
Here are two or three points which I would have yOu distinctly
to observe, though I lay them all together for brevity. 1 . That it
is only a greater measure of grace that will ordinarily afford assur
ance. 2. That therefore it is only the stronger, and holier, and
more obedient sort of Christians that usually reach to a certainty of
salvation. 3. That few Christians do reach to a strong or high de
gree of grace. 4. And therefore it is but few Christians that reach
to assurance.
For the two first of these it will evidently appear that they are
true, by reviewing the reasons which I gave of the last point save
one. He that will attain to a certainty of salvation, must, 1. Have
a large measure of grace to be discerned. 2. He must have that
grace much in action, and lively action ; for it is not mere habits that
are discernible. 3. He must have a clear understanding to be acquaint
ed with the nature of spiritual things; toknowwhatis a sound evidence,.
and how to follow the search, and how to repel particalartemptations.
4. He must have a good acquaintance and familiarity with his own
heart, and to that end must be much at home, and be used some
times to a diligent observation of his heart and ways. 5. He must
be in a good measure acquainted with, and a conqueror of contra
dicting temptations. 6. He must have some competent cure of
the deceitfulness of the heart, and it must be brought to an open,
plain, ingenuous frame, willing to know tbe worst of itself. 7. He
must have some cure of that ordinary confusion and tumultuous dis^-
order that is in the thought and affections of men, and get things in
to an order in his mind. 8. He must be a man of diligence, reso
lution, and unwearied patience, that will resolvedly set on the work
of self-examination, and painfully watch in it, and constantly follow
it from time to time till he attain a eertainty. 9. He must be one
that is very fearful of sinning, and careful in close obedient walking.
with God, and mueh in sincere and spiritual duty, that he keep not
conscience still in accusing and condemning him, and God still of
fended with him, and his wounds fresh bleeding, and his soul still
smarting. 10. He must be a man of much fixedness and constan-

360 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING .
cy of mind, and not of the ordinary mutability of mankind ; that so
he may not by remitting his zeal and diligence, lose the sight of his
evidences, nor by leaving open his soul to an alteration by every
new intruding thought and temptation, let go his assurance as soon
as he.'attaineth it. All these things in a good degree are necessary
to the attaining of assurance of salvation.
And then do I need to say any more to the confirmation of the
third point, That few Christians reach this measure of grace ? 0
that it were not as clear as the light, and as discernible as the earth
under our feet, that most true Christians are weaklings, and of the
lower forms in the school of Christ ? Alas, how ignorant are most
of the best, how little love, or faith, or zeal, or heavenlymindedness,
or delight in God have they ? How unacquainted with the way of
self-examination ? And how backward to it ? And how dull and
careless in it ? Doing it by the halves as Laban searched Rachel's
tent ? How easily put off with an excuse ? How little acquainted
with their own hearts ? Or with satan's temptations and ways of
deceiving ? How much deceitfulness remaineth in their hearts ?
How confused are their minds ? And what distractions and tu
mults are there in their thoughts ? How bold are they in sinning j
And how little tenderness of conscience, and care of obeying have
they ? How frequently do they wound conscience, provoke God,
and obscure their evidences ? And how mutable their apprehen
sions ? And how soon do they lose that assurance which they once
attained ? And upon every occasion quite lose the sight of their
evidences ? Yea, and remit their actual resolutions, and so lose
muoh of the evidence itself? Is not this the common case of godly
people ? O that we could truly deny it. Let their lives be witness,
let the visible neglects, worldliness, pride, impatiency of plain re
proof, remissness of zeal, dulness and customariness in duty, strange
ness to God, unwillingness to secret prayer and meditation, unac-
quaintedness with the Spirit's operations and joys, their unpeacea-
bleness one with another, and their too frequent blemishing the
glory of their holy profession by the unevenness of their walking,
let all these witness, whether the school of Christ have not most
children in it ; and very few of them ever go to the university of

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 361
riper knowledge : and how few of those are fit to begin here the
works of their priesdy office, which they must live in for ever, in
the high andjoyful praises of God, and of the Lamb, who hath re
deemed them by his blood, and made them kings and priests to
God, that they may reign with him for ever. I am content to stand
to the judgment of all humble, self-knowing Christians, whether
this be not true of most of themselves ; and for those that deny it,
I will stand to the judgment of their godly neighbors, who perhaps
know them better than they know themselves.-
And then this being all so, the fourth point is undeniable, That
it is but very few Christians that reach to assurance of salvation.
If any think (as intemperate hot-spirited men are like enough to
charge me) that in all this I countenance the popish doctrine of
doubting and uncertainty, and contradict the common doctrine of
the reformed divines that write against them ; I answer, 1 . That
I do contradict both the Papists that deny assurance, and many
foreign writers, who make it far more easy, common, and necessa
ry than it is (much more both them and the Antinomists, who place
justifying faith in it.) But I stand in the midst between both ex
tremes ; and I think I have the company of most English divines.
2. I come not to be of tins mind merely by reading books, but
mainly by reading my own heart, and consulting my own expe
rience, and the experience of a very great number of godly people
of aU sorts, who have opened their hearts to me, for almost twenty
years time. 3. I would entreat the gainsayers to study their own
hearts better for some considerable time, and to be more in hear
ing the case and complaints of godly people ; aud by that time they
may happily come to be of my mind. 4. See whether all those di
vines that have been very practical and successful in the work of
God, and much acquainted with the way of recovery of lost souls,
be not all of the same judgment as myself in this point, (such as
T. Hooker, Jo. Rogers, Preston, Sibbs, Bolton, Dod, Culverwell,
etc.) And whether the most confident men for the contrary be
not those that study books more than hearts, and spend their days
in disputing, and not in winning souls to God from the world.
Lastly, Let me add to what is said, these two proofs of this fourth
point here asserted.
Vol. I. 40

362 DIRECTIONS FOB. GETTING AND KEEPING
1. The constant experience ofthe greatest part of believers tells
us that certainty of salvation is very rare. Even of those that live
comfortably and in peace of conscience, yet very few of them do
attain to a certainty. For my part, it is known that God in unde
served mercy hath given me long the society of a great number of
godly people, and great interest in them, and privacy with them,
and opportunity to know their minds, and this in many places (my
station by providence having been oft removed,) and I must needs
profess, that of all these I have met with few, yea veiy few indeed,
that if I seriously and privately asked them, ' Are you certain that
you are a true believer, and so are justified, and shall be saved,'
durst say to me, ' I am certain of it.' But some in great doubts
and fears : most too secure and neglective of their states without
assurance, and some in so good hopes (to speak in their own lan
guage) as calmeth their spirits, that they comfortably cast them
selves on God in Christ. And those few that have gone so far be
yond all tbe rest, as to say, 'They were certain of their sincerity
and salvation,' were the professors, whose state I suspected more
than any of the rest, as being the most proud, self-conceited, cen
sorious, passionate, unpeaceable sort of professors ; and some of
them living scandalously, and some fallen since to more scandalous
ways than ever; and the most of their humble, godly acquaintance
and neighbors suspected them as well as I. Or else some very few
of them that said they were certain, were honest godly people
(most women) of small judgment and strong affections, who de
pended most on that which is commonly called, ' The sense or
feeling of God's love ;' and were the lowest at some times as they
were the highest at other times ; and they that were one month
certain to be saved, perhaps the next month were almost ready to
say, they should certainly be damned. So that taking out all these
sorts of persons, the sober, solid, judicious believers that could
groundedly and ordinarily say, ' I am certain that I shall be saved,'
have been so few, that it is sad to me to consider it. If any other
men's experience be contrary, I am glad of it, so be it they be so
ber, judicious men, able to gather experiences ; and so they live
not among mere Antinomians, and take not the discovery of their
mere opinion, for a discovery of experience. For I have seen in

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 363
divers professors of my long acquaintance, the strange power of
opinion and fancy in this thing. I have known those that have liv
ed many years in doubting of their salvation, and all that while
walked uprightly : and in the late wars, falling into the company
of some Anabaptists, they were by them persuaded that there was
no right Way to their comfort, but by being re-baptized, and asso
ciating themselves with the re-baptized church, and abstaining from
the hearing ofthe unbaptized parish-priests (as they called them.)
No sooner was this done, but all their former doubtings and trou
bles were over, and they were as comfortable as any others (as
themselves affirmed) which no doubt proceeded from partly the
strength of fancy, conceiting it should be so, and partly from the
novelty of their way which delighted them, and partly from the
strong opinion they had that this was the way of salvation, and that
the want of this did keep them in the dark so long ; and partly
from satan's policy, who troubleth people least, when they are in a
way that pleaseth him ; but when these people had lived a year or
two in this comfortable condition, they fell at last into the society
of some Libertines or Familists, who believe that the Scriptures are
all but a dream, fiction, or allegory ; these presently persuaded
them, that they were fools to regard baptism or such ordinances,
and that they might come to hear again in our congregations, see
ing all things were lawful, and there was no heaven or hell but
within men, and therefore they should look to their safety and
credit in the world, and take their pleasure. This lesson was
quickly learned, and then they cried down the Anabaptists, and
confessed they were deluded, and so being grown loose while they
were Anabaptists, to mend the matter, they grew Epicures when
they had been instructed by the Libertines ; and this was the end
of their new-gotten comfort. Others I have known that have want
ed assurance, and falling among the Antinomians, were told by
them that they undid themselves by looking after signs and marks
of grace, and so laying their comforts upon something in them
selves ; whereas they should look only to Christ for comfort, and
not at any thing in themselves at all ; and for assurance, it is only
the witness of the Spirit without any marks that must give it them ;
and to fetch comfort from their own graces and obedience, was to

364 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
make it themselves instead of Christ and the Holy Ghost, and was
a legal way. No sooner was this doctrine received, but the re
ceivers had comfort at will, and all was sealed up to them presently
by the witness of the Spirit in their own conceits. Whence this
came, judge you. I told you my judgment before. Sure I am
that the sudden looseness of their lives, answering their ignorant,
loose, ungospel-like doctrine, did certify me that the Spirit of com
fort was not their comforter ; for he is also a Spirit of holiness,
and comforteth men by the means of a holy gospel, which hath
precepts and- threatenings as well as promises.
2. And as the experience of the state of believers assureth us
that few of them attain to certainty ; so experience of the imper
fection of their understanding shews us, that few of them are im
mediately capable of it. For how few believers be there that un
derstand well what is sound evidence and what not? Nay, how
many learned men have taught them, that the least unfeigned de
sire of grace, is the grace itself, as some say, or at least a certain
evidence of it, as others say. Whereas, alas .' how many have
unfeignedly desired many graces, and yet have desired the glory
and profits of the world so much more, that they have miscarried
and perished. How many have taught them, that the least un
feigned love to God or to the brethren, is a certain mark of saving
grace; whereas many a one hath unfeignedly loved God and the
brethren, who yet have loved house, land, credit, pleasure, and
life so much more that God hath been thrust as it were" into
a corner, and hath had but the world's leavings. And the poor
saints have had but little compassion or relief from them, nor would
be looked on in times of danger and disgrace. As Austin and the
schoolmen used to say, " Wicked men do, ' uti Deo, et frui crea-
turis,' Use God and enjoy the creatures ; godly men do * frui Deo,
et uti creaturis,' enjoy God and use tbe creatures." The mean
ing is, both regenerate and unregenerate have some will or love,
both to God and to the creature : but tbe wicked do will or love
the creature as their chief good, with their chiefest love, and they
only love God as a means to help them to the creature, with a love
subordinate to their love to the creature : whereas the godly do
will or love God as their chief good, with their chiefest love or com-

spiritual Peace and comfort. 365
placency ; and love the creature but as the means of God, with an
inferior love.
If then the nature of sincerity be so little known, then the as
surance of sincerity cannot be very common. More might be said
to prove that certainty of salvation is not common among true
Christians ; but that it is labor in vain, as to them, seeing experi
ence and their own ready confession doth witness it.
Now what is the use that I would have you make of this ? Why
it is this. If assurance of sincerity and justification (much more of
salvation) be so rare among true Christians, then you have no
cause to think that the want of it proveth you to be no true Chris
tian. You see then that a man may be in a state of salvation with
out it ; and that it is not justifying faith, as some have imagined,
nor yet a necessary concomitant of that faith. You see that you
were mistaken in thinking that you had not the spirit of adoption,
because you had no assuring witness within you effectively testify
ing to you that you are the child of God. All God's children have
the Spirit of adoption. (For because they are sons, therefore hath
God sent the Spirit of his Son into their hearts, whereby they cry,
' Abba, Father ;' Gal. iv. 6.) But all God's children have not
assurance of their adoption, therefore the Spirit of adoption doth
not always assure those of their adoption in whom it abidelh. It
is always a witness-bearer of their adoption ; but that is only ob
jectively by his graces and operations in them, as a land-mark is
a witness whose land it is where it standeth; or as your sheep-
mark witnesseth which be your sheep ; or rather as a sensible soul
witnesseth a living creature, or a rational soul witnesseth that we
are men. But efficiently it doth not always witness ; as a land
mark or sheep-mark is not always discerned ; and a brute knows
not itself to be a brute; and a man is not always actually knowing
his own humanity, nor can know it at all in the womb, in infancy,
in distraction, in an epilepsy, apoplexy, or the like disease, which
deprives him of the use of reason. Besides, it is no doubt but the
apostle had some respect to the eminent gift of the Spirit, for
tongues, prophecies, miracles, and the like, which was proper to
that age ; though still as including the Spirit of holiness.
You see then that yon need not be always in disquiet when you

366 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
want assurance. For else how disquiet a life should most Chris
tians live ! I shall shew you more anon, that all a man's comforts
depend not so on his assurance, but that he may live a comfortable
life without it. Trouble of mind may be overcome ; conscience
may be quieted ; true peace obtained ; yea, a man may have that
joy in the Holy Ghost, whereiu the kingdom of God is said to con
sist, without certainty of salvation. (If there be any passages in
my Book of Rest, part iii. pressing to get assurance, which seem
contrary to this, I desire that they may be reduced to this sense,
and no otherwise understood.) This shall be further opened anon,
and other grounds of comfort manifested, besides assurance.
Direct. XV. Yea thus much more I would here inform you of,
" That many holy, watchful and obedient Christians, are yet uncer
tain of their salvation, even then when they are certain of their jus
tification and sanctification ; and that because they are uncertain of
their perseverance and overcoming ; for a man's certainty of his sal
vation can be no stronger than is his certainty of enduring to the
end and overcoming.'
That you may not misunderstand me in this, observe, I. That
I do not say perseverance is a thing uncertain in itself. 2. Nor
that it is uncertain to all Christians. 3. But that it is uncertain to
many, even strong and self-knowing Christians. Divines use to
distinguish of the certainty of the object and of the subject ; and
the former is either of the object of God's knowledge, or of man's.
I doubt not but God knows certainly who shall be saved, which,
with his decree, doth cause that which we call certainty of the ob
ject as to man's understanding; but men themselves do not always
know it.
If a man have the fullest certainty in (he world that he is God's
child, yet if he be uncertain whether he shall so continue to the
end, it is impossible that he should have a certainty of his salva
tion ; for it is he only that endureth to the end that shall be saved.
Now that many eminent Christians of great knowledge, and
much zeal and obedience, are uncertain of their perseverance, is
proved by two infallible arguments. 1 . By experience : if any
should be so censorious as to think that none of all those nations
and churches abroad, that deny the doctrine of certain persever-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 3C7
ance of all believers, hage any strong Christians among them, yet
we have had the knowledge of such at home. 2 . Besides the dif
ficulty of the subject is a clear argument that a strong Christian
may be uncertain of it. God hath made all those points plain in
Scripture, which must be believed as of necessity to salvation ; but
the certainty of all believers' perseverance, is not a point of flat ne
cessity to salvation to be believed. Otherwise it would be a hard
matter to prove, that any considerable number were ever saved till
of late ; or are yet saved, but in a very few countries. It is a point
that the churches never did put into their creed, where they sum
med up those points that they held necessary to salvation. There
are a great number of texts of Scripture, which seeming to inti
mate the contrary, do make the point of great difficulty to many of
the wisest ; and those texts that are for it, are not so express as
fully to satisfy them. Besides, that the examples of these ten
years last past have done more to stagger many sober wise Chris
tians in this point, than all the arguments that were ever used by
Papists, Arminians, or any other, to see what kind of men in some
places have fallen, and how far, as I am unwilling further to men
tion. But I think by this time I have persuaded you, that a proper
Certainty of our salvation is not so common a thing as some con
troversial doctors, or some self-conceited professors do take it to
be ; and therefore that you must not lay all your comfort on your
assurance of salvation. As for them who are most highly confi
dent both of the doctrine of the certain perseverance of every be
liever, merely upon tradition and prejudice, or else upon weak
grounds, which will not bear them out in their confidence ; and are
as confident of their own salvation on as slender grounds, having
never well understood the nature of saving grace, sincerity, exam
ination, nor assurance ; nor understood the causes of doubting,
which else might have shaken them ; I will not call their greatest
confidence by the name of assurance or certainty of salvation,
though it be accompanied with never so great boastings, or pre
tences, or expressions of the highest joys. And for yourself, I ad
vise you first use those comforts which those may have who come
short of assurance.

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DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

Direct. XVI. The next thing which I would have you learn is
this, ' That there are several grounds of the great probability of our
salvation, besides the general grounds mentioned in the beginning :
and by the knowledge of these, without any further assurance, a
Christian may live in much peace and comfort, and in delightful,
desirous thoughts of the glory to come. And therefore the next work
which you have to do, is to discover those probabilities of your sin
cerity and your salvation, and then to receive the peace and com
fort which they may afford you, before you can expect assurance in
itself.' I shall here open to you the several parts of this proposition anil
direction distinctly. 1 . I told you in the beginning of the four
grounds of probability which all may have in general ; from 1. The
nature of God. 2. And ofthe Mediator and his office. 3. And
the universal sufficiency of Christ's satisfaction. 4. And the gen
eral tenor of the promise, and offer of pardon and salvation. Now
I add, that besides all these, there are many grounds of strong prob
ability, which you may have of your own sincerity, and so of your
particular interest in Christ and salvation, when you cannot reach
to a certainty.
1 . Some kind of probability you may gather by comparing your
self with others. Though this way be but delusory to unregener-
ate men, whose confidence is plainly contradicted by the Scrip
tures, yet may it be lawful and useful to an humble soul that is wil
ling to obey and wait on God : I mean to consider, that if such as
you should perish how few people would God have in the world ?
Consider first in how narrow a compass the church was confined be
fore Christ's coming in the flesh ; how carnal and corrupt even tha.t
visible church then was ; and even at this day, the most learned do
compute, that if you divide the world into thirty parts, nineteen of
them are heathenish idolaters, six of them are Mahometans, and
only five of them are Christians. And of these five that are Chris.
tians, how great a part are of the Ethiopian, Greek, and Popish
churches? So ignorant, rude, and superstitious, and erroneous,
that salvation cannot be imagined to be near so easy or ordinary
with them as with us : and of the reformed churches, commonly
called Protestants, how small is the number ? And even among

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 360
these, what a numbsnare grossly ignorant and profane ? And of
those that profess more knowledge and zeal, how many are grossly
erroneous, schismatical and scandalous? How exceeding small
a number is left then that are such as you? I know this is no as
suring argument, but I know withal that Christ died not in vain, but
he will see the fruit of his sufferings to the satisfaction of his soul ;
and the God of Mercy, who is a lover of mankind, will have a mul
titude innumerable of his saved ones in the earth.
2. But your strongest probabilities are from the consideration of
the work of God upon your souls, and the present frame and inclin
ation of your soul to God. You may know that-"you have work
ings above nature in you ; and that they have been kept alive and
carried on these many years against all opposition of the flesh and
the world ; it hath not been a mere flash of conviction which hath
been extinguished by sensuality, and left you in the darkness of
security and profaneness as others are. You dare not give up
your hopes of heaven for all the world. You would not part with
Christ, and say, ' Let him go,' for all the pleasures of sin, or treas
ures of the earth. If you had (as you have) an offer of God,
Christ, grace, and glory on one side, and worldly prosperity iu sin
on the other side, you would choose God, and let go the other.
You dare not, you would not give over praying, hearing, reading
and Christian company, and give up yourself to worldly, fleshly
pleasures ; yet you are not assured of salvation, because you find
not that delight and life in duty, and that witness of the Spirit, and
that communion with God, nor that tenderness of heart as you de
sire. It is well that you desire them ; but though you be not cer
tain of salvation, do you not see a great likelihood, a probability in
all this ? Is not your heart raised to a hope, that yet God is merci
ful to you, and means you good ? Doubtless, this you might easily
discern. The second thing that I am to show you, is, that there may
much spiritual comfort and peace of conscience be enjoyed, with
out any certainty of salvation, even upon these forementioned prob
abilities. Which I prove thus, 1. No doubt but Adam in inno-
nency, had peace of conscience, and comfort, and communion with
God, and yet he had no assurance of salvation ; I mean, either of
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370 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
continuing in paradise, or being translated taglory. For if he had,
either he was sure to persevere in innocency, and so to be glorified,
(but that was not true,) or else he must foreknow both that he
should fall and be raised again, and saved by Christ. But this he
knew not at all. 2. Experience tells us, that the greatest part of
Christians on earth do enjoy that peace and comfort which they
have, without any certainty of their salvation. 3. The nature of
the thing telleth us, that a likelihood of so great a mercy as ever
lasting glory, must needs be a ground of great comfort. If a poor
condemned prisoner do but hear that there is hopes of a pardon,
especially if verjr probable, it will glad his heart. Indeed, if an
angel from heaven were brought into this state, it would be sad to
him ; but if a devil or condemned sinner have such hope, it must
needs be glad news to them. The devils have it not, but we have.
Let me next, therefore, entreat you to take the comfort of
your probabilities of grace and salvation. Your horse or dog know
not how you will use them certainly ; yet will they lovingly follow
you, and put their heads to your hand, and trust you with their lives
without fear, and love to be in your company, because they have
found you kind to them, and have tried that you do them no hurt,
but good : yea, though you do strike them sometimes, yet they
find that they have their food from you, and your favor doth sus
tain them. Yea, your little children have no certainty how yon
will use them, and yet finding that you have always used them
kindly, and expressed love to them, though you whip them some
times, yet are glad of your company, and desire to be in your lap,
and can trust themselves in your hands, without tormenting them
selves with such doubts as these, ' I am uncertain how my mother
will use me, whether she will wound me, or kill me, or turn me out
of doors, and let me perish.' Nature persuades us not to be too
distrustful of those that have always befriended us, and especially
whose nature is merciful and compassionate ; nor to be too suspi
cious of evil from them that have always done us good. Every
man knows that the good will do good, and the evil will do you
evil ; and accordingly we expect that they should do to us. Nat
urally we all fear a toad, a serpent, an adder, a mad dog, a wicked
man, a madman, a cruel, blood-thirsty tyrant, and the devil. But

SPIRITUAL PEAGE AND COMFORT. 371
no one fears a dove, a lamb, a good man, a merciful, compassionate
governor, except only the rebels or notorious offenders that know
he is bound in justice to destroy or punish them. And none should
fear distrustfully the wradi of a gracious God, but they who will
not submit to his mercy, and will not have Christ fo reign over
them, and therefore may know that he is bound in justice, if they
come not in, to destroy them. But for you that would be obedient
and reformed, and are troubled that you are no better, and beg of
God to make you better, and have no sin, but what you would be
glad to be rid of, may not you, at least, see a strong probability
that it shall go well with you ? O make use therefore of this prob
ability ; and if you have but hopes that God will do you good, re
joice in those hopes till you can come to rejoice in assurance.
And here let me tell you, that probabilities are of divers degrees,
according to their divers grounds. Where men have but little
probability of their sincerity, and a greater probability that they are
not sincere in the faith, these men may be somewhat borne up,
but it behoves them presently to search in fear, and to amend that
which is the cause of their fear. Those that have more probability
of the sincerity of their hearts than of the contrary, may well have
more peace than trouble of mind. Those that have yet a higher
degree of probability, may live in more joy, and so according to
the degree of probability may their comforts still arise.
And observe also, that it is but the highest degree of this proba
bility here which we call a certainty : for it is a moral certainty,
and not that which is called a certainty of divine faith, nor that
which is called a certainty of evidence in the strictest sense, though
yet evidence there is for it. But it is the same evidences materi
ally, which are the ground of probability and of certainty ; only
sometimes they differ gradually (one having more grace and an
other less,) and sometimes not so neither ; for he that hath more
grace, may discern but a probability in it, (through some other de
fect,) no more than he that hath less. But when one man discerns
his graces and sincerity but darkly, he hath but a probability of sal
vation manifested by them ; and when another discerneth them
more clearly, he hath a stronger probability ; and he that discern
eth them most clearly (if other necessaries concur) hath that which
we call a certainty.

372 DIRECTIONS FOR CETTING AND KEEPING
Now I am persuaded that you frequently see a strong probability
of your sincerity ; and may not that be a very great stay and com
fort to your soul ? Nay, may it not draw out your heart in love, de
light and thankfulness ? Suppose that your name were written in a
piece of paper, and put among a hundred, or fifty, or but twenty
other like papers into a lottery, and you were certain that you should
be the 'owner of this whole land, except your name were drawn
the first time, and if it were drawn you should die, would your joy
or your sorrow for this be the greater ? Nay, if it were but ten to
one, or but two to one odds on your side, it would keep you from
drooping and discouragement ; and why should it not do so in the
present case ?
Direct. XVII. My next advice to you is this, ' For the strength
ening your apprehensions ofthe probability of your salvation, gath
er up, and improve all your choicest experiences of God's good
will and mercy to you ; and observe also the experiments of others
in the same kind.'
We do God and ourselves a great deal of wrong by forgetting,
neglecting, and not improving our experiences. How doth God
charge it on the Israelites, especially in the wilderness, that they
forgot the works of God, by which he had so often manifested his
power and goodness ! Pgalmlxxviii. cvii. See cv. cvi. When God
had by one miracle silenced their unbelief, they had forgotten it in
the next distress. It was a sign the disciples' hearts were hardened,
when they forgot the miracles of the loaves, and presently after were
distrustful and afraid ; Mark vi. 52. God doth not give us his
mercies only for the present use, but for the future : nor only for
the body, but for the soul. I would this truth were well learned
by believers. You are in sickness, and troubles, and dangers, and
pinching straits, in fears and anguish of mind : in this case you cry-
to God for help, and he doth in such a manner deliver you as si-
lenceth your distrust, and convinceth you of his love ; at least, of
his readiness to do you good. What a wrong is it now to God and
yourself, to forget this presently, and in the next temptation to
receive no strengthening by the consideration of it ? Doth
God so much regard this dirty flesh, that he should do all
this merely for its ease and relief? No, he doth it to kill your un
belief, and convince you of his special providence, his care of you,

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 373
and love to you, and power to help you, and to breed in you more
loving, honorable and thankful thoughts of him. Lose this benefit,
and you lose all. You may thus use one and the same mercy an
hundred times : though it be gone as to the body, it is still fresh in
a believing, thankful, careful soul. You may make as good use of
it at your very death, as the first hour. But O, the sad forgetful-
ness, mutability and unbelief of these hearts of ours ! What a
number of these choice experiences do we all receive ! When we
forget one, God giveth another, and we forget that too. When un
belief doth blasphemously suggest to us, Such a thing may come
once or twice by chance. God addeth one experience to another,
till it even shame us out of our unbelief, as Christ shamed Thomas,
and we cry out, " My Lord and my God." Hath it not been thus
oft with you ? Have not mercies come so seasonably, so unex
pectedly, either by small means, or the means themselves unex
pectedly raised up ; without your designing or effecting; and plain
ly in answer to prayers, that they have brought conviction along
with them ; and you have seen the name of God engraven on
them ? Sure it is so with us, when through our sinful negligence
we are hardly drawn to open our eyes, and see what God is doing.
Much more might we have seen, if we had but observed the
workings of Providence for us ; especially they that are in an af
flicted state, and have more sensibly daily use for God, and are
awakened to seek him, and regard his dealings. I know a mercy
to the body is no certain evidence of God's love to the soul. But
yet from such experiences a Christian may have very strong prob
abilities. When we find God hearing prayers, it is a hopeful sign
that we have some interest in him. We may say as Manoah's wife
said to him, " If the Lord had meant to destroy us, he would not
have received a sacrifice at our hands, nor have done all this for
us ;" Judges xiii. 23. To have God so near to us in all that we
call upon him for, and so ready to relieve us, as if he could not de
ny an earnest prayer, and could not endure to stop his ears against
our cries and groans, these are hopeful signs that he meaneth us
good. I know special grace is the only certain evidence of special
love : but yet these kind of experiences are many times more ef
fectual to refresh a drooping, doubting soul, than the first evidences :

374 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
for evidences may be unseen, and require a great deal of holy skill
and diligence to try them, which few have ; but these experiences
are near us, even in our bodies, and shew themselves ; they make
all our bones say, " Lord, who is like unto thee ?" And it is a
great advantage to have the help of sense itself for our consolation.
I hope you yet remember the choice particular providences, by
which God hath manifested to you his goodness, even from your
youth till now : especially his frequent answering of your prayers !
Methinks these should do something to the dispelling of those black,
distrustful thoughts of God. I could wish you would write them
down, and oft review them : and when temptations next come,
remember with David, who helped you against the lion and the
bear, and, therefore, fear not the uncircumcised Philistine.
2. And you may make great use also of the experiences of
others. Is it not a great satisfaction to hear twenty, or forty, or an
hundred christians, of the most godly lives, to make the very same
complaints as you do yourself? The very same complaints have I
heard from as many. By this you may see your case is not singu
lar, but the ordinary case of the tenderest consciences, and of ma
ny that walk uprightly with God. And also is it not a great help
to you, to hear other christians tell how they have come into those
troubles, and how they have got out of them ? What hurt them ?
And what helped them ? And how God dealt with them, while they
lay under them ? How desirous are diseased persons to talk with
others that have had the same disease ? And to hear them tell how
it took them, and how it held them, and especially what cured them ?
Besides, it will give you much stronger hopes of cure and recove
ry to peace of conscience, when you hear of so many that have
been cured of the same disease. Moreover, is it not a reviving
thing, to hear christians open the goodness of the Lord ? And that
in particular, as upon experience they have found him to their own
souls ? To hear them tell you of such notable discoveries of God's
special providence and care of his people, as may repel all temp
tations to atheism and unbelief? To hear them give you their fre
quent and full experiences of God's hearing and answering their
prayers, and helping them in their distresses ? Though the carnal
part of the mercy were only theirs, yet by improvement, the spirit-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 375
ual part may be yours : you may have your faith, and love, and
joy, confirmed by the experience of David, Job, Paul, which are past
so long ago; and by the experiences of all your godly acquaintance
as if they were your own. This is the bene:fit of the unity of the
church ; the blessings of one member of tbe body are blessings to
the rest; and if one rejoice the rest may rejoice with them, not only
for their sakes, but also for their own. Such as God is to the rest of
his children,such is he and will be to you. He is as ready to pity you
as them, and to hear your complaints and moans as theirs. And lest
we should think that none of them were so bad as we, be hath left us
the examples of his mercies to worse than ever we were. You
never were guilty of witchcraft, and open idolatry, as Manasses was,
and that for a long time, and drawing the whole nation, and chief
part of the visible church on earth, into idolatry with him. You
never had your hand in the blood of a saint, and even of the first
martyr (Stephen) as Paul had. You never hunted after the blood
of the saints, and persecuted them from city to city as he did ; and
yet God did not only forgive him, but was found of him when he
never sought him, yea, when he was persecuting him in his mem
bers, and kicking against the pricks ; yea, and made him a chosen
vessel to bear about his name, and a noble instrument of the propa
gation of his gospel, as if he had never been guilty of any such
crimes, that he might be an encouraging example to the unworthiest
sinners, and in him might appear to the riches of his mercy ; 1 Tim.
iii. 13. 16. See also Titus iii. 3 — 7. Is there no ground of com
fort in these examples ofthe saints? The same we may say ofthe
experiences of God's people still ; and doubtless it were well if
experimental christians did more fully and frequently open to one
another their experiences ; it were the way to make private par
ticular mercies to be more public and common mercies ; and to
give others a part in our blessings, without any diminution of them
to ourselves. Not that I would have this openly and rashly done
(by those, who through their disability to express their minds, do
make the works and language of the Spirit seem ridiculous to car
nal ears,) as I perceive some in a very formality would have it (as
if it must be one of their church customs, to satisfy the society of
the fitness of each member before they will receive them :) but I

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DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

would have christians that are fit to express their minds, to do it in
season and with wisdom ; especially those to whom God hath given
any more eminent and notable experiments, which may be of pub
lic use. Doubtless, God hath lost very much of the honor due to
his name, and poor christians much of the benefit which they might
have received, (and may challenge by the mutual interest of fellow
members) for want of the public communication of the extraordi
nary and more notable experiences of some men. Those that
write the lives of the holiest men when they are dead, can give
you but the outside and carcase of their memorials ; the most ob
servable passages are usually secret, known only to God and their
own souls, which none but themselves are able to communicate.
For my own part, I do soberly and seriously profess to you, that
the experiences I have had of God's special providences, and fa
therly care, and specially of his hearing prayers, have been so
strange, and great, and exceeding numerous, that they have done
very much to the quieting of my spirit, and the persuading of my
soul of God's love to me, and the silencing and shaming of my un
believing heart, and especially for the conquering of all tempta-
tations that lead to atheism or infidelity, to the denying of special
providence, or of the verity of the gospel, or of the necessity of
holy prayer and worshipping of God. Yea, those passages that in
the bulk of the thing seem to have no great matter in them, yet have
come at such seasons, in such a manner, in evident answer to
prayers, that they have done much to my confirmation. O happy
afflictions and distresses ! Sufferings and danger force us to pray,
and force the cold and customary petitioner to seriousness and im
portunity. Importunate prayers bring, evident returns; such re
turns give us sensible experiences ; such experiences raise faith,
love and thankfulness, kill unbelief and atheism, and encourage the
soul in all distresses, go the same way as when it sped so well.
I often pity the poor seduced infidels of this age, that deny scripture
and Christ himself, and doubt of the usefulness of prayer and holy
worship ; and I wish that they had but the experiences that I have
had. O how much more might it do than all their studies and dis
putes ! Truly I have once or twice had motions in my mind, to
have publicly and freely communicated my experiences in a rela-

¦SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 377
tidn of the more observable passages of my life ; but I found that
I was not able to do it to God's praise, as was meet, without a
shew of ostentation or vanity, and therefore I forbore.
Direct. XVIII. Next, that you may yet further understand the
true nature of assurance, faith, doubting and desperation, I would
have you observe this, ' That God doth not command every man,
nor properly any man, ordinarily, by his word, to believe that his
sins are forgiven, and himself is justified, adopted, and shall be
saved. But he hath prescribed a way by which they may attain
to assurance of these, in which way it is men's duty to seek it : so
that our assurance is not properly that which is called a certainty of
belief.' I have said enough for the proof of this proposition in the third
part of my Book of Rest, chap. ii. whither I must refer you. But
there is more to be said yet for the application of it. But first I
must briefly tell you the meaning of the words. 1 . God command
eth us all to believe (wicked and godly,) that our sins are made par
donable by the sufficient satisfaction of Christ for them ; and that
God is very merciful and ready to forgive ; and that he hath con
ditionally forgiven us all in the new covenant, making a deed of gift
of Christ, and pardon, and life in him, to all, on condition they be
lieve in him, and accept what is given. 2. But no man is com
manded to believe that he is actually forgiven. 3. Therefore I
say our assurance is not strictly to be called belief, or a certainty
of belief; for it is only our certain belief of those things which we
take on the mere credit of the witnesser or revealer, which we
call certainty of faith. Indeed, we commonly in English use the
word ' belief,' to express any confident, but uncertain, opinion or
persuasion ; and if any will so take it, then I deny not but our assu
rance is a belief. But it is commonly taken by divines for an as
sent to any thing on the credit of the word ofthe revealer, and so
is distinguised both from the sensible apprehension of things, and
from principles that are known by the mere light and help of nature ;
and from the knowledge of conclusions, which by reasoning we
gather from those principles. Though yet one and the same thing
may be known, as revealed in nature, and believed as revealed im
mediately or supernaturally ; and so we both know and believe that
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378 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
there is one only God, who made and preserveth all things : 4.
But our assurance is an act of knowledge, participating of faith
and internal sense or knowledge reflect. For divine faith saith,
" He that believeth is justified, and shall be saved." Internal
sense and knowledge of ourselves saith, ' But I believe.' Reason,
or discursive knowledge saith, 'Therefore I am justified and shall
be saved.'
Only I must advise you, that you be not troubled when you meet
with that which is contrary to this in any great divines : for it is
only our former divines, whose judgments were partly hurt by hot
disputations with the Papists herein, and partly not come to that
maturity as others since then have had opportunity to do. And
therefore in their expositions of the creed, and such like passages
in the text, they eagerly insist on it, that when we say, ' We be-
believe the forgiveness of sin, and life everlasting,' every man is to
profess that he believeth that his own sins are forgiven, and he shall
have life everlasting himself. But our later divines, and especial
ly the English, and most especially those that deal most in practr-
cals, do see the mistake, and lay down the same doctrine which I
teach you here ; God bids us not believe as from him, more
than he hath revealed. But only one of the propositions is reveal
ed by God's testimony, " He that believeth shall be saved." But
it is no where written that you do believe, nor that you shall be sav
ed ; nor any thing equivalent. And therefore you are not com
manded to believe either of these. How the Spirit revealeth these,
I have fully told you already. In our creed therefore we do pro
fess to believe remission of sins to be purchased by Christ's death,
and in his power to give, and given in his Gospel to all, on condi
tion of believing in Christ himself for remission : but not to believe
that our own sins are actually and fully pardoned.
My end in telling you this again (which I have told you else
where) is this, That you may not think (as I find abundance of
poor troubled souls do) that faith (much less justifying faith) is a
believing that you have true grace, and shall be saved ; and so fall
a condemning yourself unjustly every time that you doubt of your
own sincerity, and think that so much as you doubt of this, so much
unbelief you have : and so many poor souls complain that they have

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 379
no faith, or but little, and that they cannot believe, because they
believe not their own faith to be sincere : and when they wholly
judge themselves unsanctified, then they call that desperation,
which they think to a sin inconsistent with true grace. These are
dangerous errors, all arising from that one error which the heat of
contention did carry some good men to, that faith is a belief that
our sins are forgiven by Christ. Indeed all men are bound to ap
ply Christ and the promise to themselves. But that application
consisteth in a belief that this promise is true, as belonging to all,
and so to me, and then in acceptance of Christ and his benefits as
an offered gift ; and after this, in trusting on him for the full per
formance of this promise. Hence therefore you may best see what
unbelief and desperation are, and how far men may charge them
selves with them. When you doubt whether the promise be true, or
when you refuse to accept Christ and his benefits offered in it, and
consequently to trust him as one that is able and willing to save you, if
you do assent to his truth, and accept him, this is unbelief. But if
you do believe the truth of the Gospel, and are heartily willing to
accept Christ as offered in it, and only doubt whether your belief
and acceptance of him be sincere, and so whether you shall be sav
ed ; this is not unbelief, but ignorance of your own sincerity and its
consequents. Nay, and though that affiance be wanting, which is
a part of faith, yet it is but an hindering ofthe exercise of it, for
want of a necessary concomitant condition ; for the grace of affi
ance is in the habit, and virtually is there, so that it is not formally
distrust or unbelief any more, than your not trusting God in your
sleep is distrust. If a friend do promise to give you an hundred
pounds, on condition that you thankfully accept it : if you now do
believe him, and do thankfully accept it ; but yet through some
vain scruple shall think, my thankfulness is so small, that it is not
sincere, and therefore I doubt I do not perform his condition, and
so shall never have the gift ; in this case now you do believe your
friend, and you do not distrust him properly ; but you distrust
yourself, that you perform not the condition ; and this hindereth
the exercise of that confidence or affiance in your friend which is
habitually and virtually in you. Just so is it in our present case.
The same may be said of desperation, which is a privation of

380 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
hope ; when we have believed the truth of the Gospel, and ac
cepted Christ offered, we are then bound to hope that God will
give us the benefits promised : so hope is nothing but a desirous
expectation of the good so promised and believed. Now if you
begin to distrust whether God will make good bis promise or no,
either thinking that it is not true, or he is not able, or hath changed
his mind since the making of it, and on these grounds you let go
your hopes, this is despair. If because that Christ seems to delay
his coming, we should say, I have waited in hope till now, but now
I am out of hope that ever Christ will come to judge the world, and
glorify believers, I will expect it no longer ; this is despair. And
it hath its several degrees more or less as unbelief hath. Indeed
the schoolmen say that affiance is nothing but strengthened hope.
Affiance in the properest sense is the same in substance as hope ;
only it more expresseth a respect to the promise and promiser, and
indeed is faith and hope expressed in one word. So that what I
said before of distrust is true of despair. If you docontinue to be
lieve the truth of the Gospel, and particularly of Christ's coming
and glorifying his saints, and yet you think he will not glorify you,
because you think that you are not a true believer or saint ; this is
not desperation in the proper sense. For desperation is the priva
tion of hope, where the formal cause, the heart and life of it, is
wanting. But you have here hope in the habit, and virtually do
hope in Christ ; but the act of it, as to your own particular salva
tion is hindered, upon an accidental mistake. In the foremention .
ed example, if your friend promise to give you an hundred pounds
on condition of your thankful acceptance, and promiseth to come
at such an hour and bring it you : if now you stay till the hour be
almost come, and then say, ' I am out of hope of his coming
now ; he hath broke his word ;' this is properly a despair in your
friend. But if you only think that you have overstaid the time,
and that it is past, and therefore you shall not have the gift, this
may be called a despair of the event, and a despair in yourself, but
not properly a despair of your friend ; only the act of hoping in
God is hindered, as is said. So it is in our present case. Men
may be said to despair of their salvation, and to despair in them
selves, but not to despair in God, except the formal cause of such

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 381
despair were there present ; and except they are drawn to it, by
not believing his truth and faithfulness. The true nature of despair
is expressed in that ofthe apostles, Luke xxiv. 21. "We trusted
that that was he that should redeem Israel ;" only it was but imperfect
despair, else it had been damnable. Their hopes were shaken.
And for my part, I am persuaded that it is only this proper despair
in God, which is the damnable desperation, which is threatened in
the Scripture, and not the former. And that if a poor soul should
go out of this world without any actual hope of his own salvation,
merely because he thinks that he is no true believer, that this soul
may be saved, and prove a true believer for all this. Alas ! the
great sin that God threateneth is our distrust of his faithfulness,
and not the doubting of our own sincerity and distrust of ourselves.
We have great reason to be very jealous of our own hearts, as
knowing them to be deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked, who can know them ? But we have no reason to be jeal
ous of God. Where find you in Scripture that any is condemned
for hard thoughts of themselves, or for not knowing themselves to
have true grace, and for thinking they had none ? It is true, un
belief in God's promise is that men are condemned for, even that
sin which is an aversion ofthe soul from God. But perhaps you
will ask, Is doubting of our own sincerity and salvation no sin ? I
answer, doubting is either taken in opposition to believing, or in op
position to knowing, or to conjecturing.
1 . Doubting as it signifieth only a not believing that our sins are
pardoned, and we shall be saved, is no sin, (still remember that I
take believing in the strict, proper sense of the crediting of a di
vine testimony or assertion.) For God hath no where commanded
us ordinarily to believe either of these. I say ordinarily (as I did
in the proposition before) because when Christ was on earth he told
a man personally, " Thy sins are forgiven thee ;" (whether he
meant only as to the present disease inflicted for them, or also all
punishment temporal and eternal, I will not now discuss) so Na
than from God told David, his sin was forgiven. But these were
privileges only to these persons, and not common to all. God hath
no where said, either that all men's sins are actually forgiven ; or
that yours or mine by name are forgiven : but only that all that be-

382 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
lieve are forgiven, which supposeth them to believe before they are
forgiven, and that they may be forgiven, and therefore it is not
true that they are forgiven ; before they believe. And therefore this
faith is not a believing that they are forgiven, but a believing on
Christ for forgiveness. Else men must believe an untruth, to make
it become true by their believing it.
2. But now doubting, as it is opposed to the knowledge of our
remission and justification, in those that are justified is a sin. For
it can be no sin for an unjustified person to know that he is unjustifi
ed. But then I pray you mark how far it is a sin in the godly, and
what manner of sin it is. 1 . It is a sin, as it is part of our natural
ignorance, and original depravedness of our understandings, or a
fruit hereof, and of our strangeness to our own hearts, and of
their deep deceitfulness, confusion, mutability, or negligence. 2.
And further, as all these are increased by long custom in sinning,
and so the discerning of our states is become more difficult, it is
yet a greater sin. 3. It is a sin as it is the fruit of any particular
sin by which we have obscured our own graces, and provoked God
to hide his face from us. And so all ignorance of any truth which
we ought to know, is a sin ; so the ignorance of our own regenera
tion and sincerity is a sin, because we ought to know it. But this
is so far from being the great condemning sin of unbelief which
Christ threateneth in his new law, that it is none of the greatest or
most heinous sort of sins, but the infirmity in some measure of every
Christian. And let me further acquaint you with this difference between
these doubtings, and your fears and sorrows that follow thereupon.
Though the doubtings itself be your sin, yet I suppose that the
fears, and sorrows, and cares that follow it may be your duty. Yet
respectively, and by remote participation, even these also must be
acknowledged sinful; even as our prayers for that pardon which we
have received and knew it not, may by remote participation be
called sinful ; because if we had not sinned we should not have
been ignorant of our own hearts. And if we had not been igno
rant, we should not have doubted of the least true grace we have.
And if we had not so doubted, we should not have feared, or sor
rowed, or prayed for that remission in that sense. But yet, though

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 383
these may be called sinful, as they come from sin, yet more nearly
and in themselves considered, on supposition of our present estate,
they are all duties, and great duties necessary to our salvation.
You may say to a thief that begs for pardon, ' If thou hadst not
stolen, thou hadst not need to have begged pardon.' Yet sup
posing that he hath stolen, it may be his duty to beg pardon. And
so you may say to a poor, fearing soul, that fears damnation and
God's wrath, ' Thou needst not fear if thou hadst not sinned.' But
when he hath once by sin obscured his evidences, and necessitated
doubting, then is fear, and sorrow, and praying for justification and
pardon, his duty, and indeed not fitly to be called sin, but rather a
fruit of sin in one respect (and so hath some participation in it) but
a fruit of the Spirit, and of Christ's command in another respect,
and so a necessary duty. For else we should say, that it is a sin
to repent and believe in Christ, and to love him as our Redeemer ;
for you may say to any sinner, ' Thou needst not to have repented,
believed in a Redeemer, &c. but for thy sin ;' yet I hope none
will say, that so doing is properly a sin, though doing them defect
ively is. God doth not will and approve of it, that any soul that
can see no signs of grace and sincerity in itself should yet be as
confident, and merry, and careless, as if they were certain that all
were well. God would not have men doubt of his love, and yet
make light of it. This is a contempt of him. Else what should
poor, carnal sinners do that find themselves unsanctified. No, nor
doth God expect that any man should judge of himself better than
he hath evidence to warrant such a judgment. But that every man
should " prove his own work, that so he may have rejoicing in him
self alone, and not in another. For he that thinketh he is some
thing when he is nothing, deceived! himself;" Gal. vi. 3 — 6. And
no man should be a self-deceiver, especially in a case of such in
expressible consequence. It is therefore a most desperate doctrine of
the Antinomians (as most of theirs are) that all men ought to be
lieve God's special love to them, and their own justification. And
that they are justified by believing that tbey were justified before,
and that no man ought to question his faith (saith Saltmarsh, any
more than to question Christ.) And that all fears of our damna-
i'on, or not being justified after this believing, are sin ; and those

384 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
that persuade to them, are preachers of the law. (How punctually
do the most profane, ungodly people, hold most points of the An-
tinomian belief, though they never knew that sect by name !) God
commandeth no man to believe more than is true, nor immediately
to cast away their doubts and fears, but to overcome them in an or
derly methodical way ; that is, using God's means till their graces
become more discernible, and their understandings more clear and
fit to discern them, that so we may have assurance of their sincer
ity, and thereby of our justification, adoption, and right to glo
rification. " Let us therefore fear, lest a promise being left of
entering into his rest any of us should seem to come short of it ;"
Heb. iv. 1 . " Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice before him
in trembling ; kiss the Son lest he be angry, and ye perish ;" Psal.
ii. 11. " Work out your salvation with fear and trembling;" Phil.
ii. 12. Not only, 1. A reverent fear of God's majesty. 2. And
a filial fear of offending him. 3. And an awful fear of his judg
ments, when we see them executed on others, and hear them
threatened. 4. And a filial fear of temporal chastisements are
lawful and our duty ; but also, 5. A fear of damnation exciting to
most careful importunity to escape it; whenever we have so far ob
scured our evidences, as to see no strong probability of our sincer
ity in the faith, and so of our salvation. The sum of my speech
therefore is this : Do not think that all your fears of God's wrath
are your sins ; much of them is your great duty. Do you not feel
that God made these fears at your first conversion, the first and a
principal means of your recovery ? To drive you to a serious con
sideration of your state and ways, and to look after Christ with more
longing and estimation ? And to use the means with more resolu
tion and diligence ? Have not these fears been chief preservers
of your diligence and integrity ever since ? I know love should do
more than it doth with us all. But if we had not daily use for
both (love and fear) God would not, 1 . Have planted them both
in our natures. 2. And have renewed them both by regenerating
grace. 3. And have put into his word the objects to move both,
[viz. threatenings as well as promises.) That fear of God which
is the beginning of wisdom, includeth the fear of his threatened
wrath. I could say abundance more to prove this, that I know as

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 385
to you it is needless for conviction of it ; but remember the use of
it. Do not put the name of unbelief upon all your fears of God's
displeasure. Much less should you presently conclude that )'ou
have no faith, and that you cannot believe, because of these fears.
You may have much faith in the midst of these fears ; and God
may make them preservers of your faith, by quickening you up to
those means that must maintain it, and by keeping you from those
evils that would be as a worm at the root of it, and eat out its pre
cious strength and life. Security is no friend to faith, but a more
deadly enemy than fear itself.
Object. ' Then Cain and Judas sinned not by despairing, or at
least not damnably.'
Answ. 1. They despaired not only of themselves, and of the
event of their salvation, but also of God ; of his power or goodness,
and promise, and the sufficiency of any satisfaction of Christ.
Their infidelity was the root of their despair. 2. Far it is from me
to say or think that you should despair of the event, or that it is no
sin ; yea, or that you should cherish causeless and excessive jeal
ousies and fears. Take heed of all fears that drive you from God,
or that distract or weaken your spirit, or disable you from duty, or
drown your love to God, and delight in him, and destroy your ap
prehensions of God's loveliness and compassion, and raise black,
and hard, and unworthy thoughts of God in your mind. Again, I
entreat you, avoid and abhor all such fears. But if you find in you
the fears of godly jealousy of your own heart, and such moderated
fears of the wrath of God, which banish security, presumption, and
boldness in sinning, and are (as Dr. Sibbs calls them) the awe-
band of your soul ; and make you fly to the merits and bosom of
the Lord Jesus, as the affrighted child to the lap of the mother,
and as the man-slayer under the law to the city of refuge, and as a
man pursued by a lion, to his sanctuary or hold ; do not think you
have no faith, because you have these fears, but moderate them by
faith and love, and then thank God for them. Indeed perfect love
(which will be in heaven when all is perfected) will cast out this
fear ; and so it will do sorrow and care, and prayer and means.
But see you lay not these by till perfect love cast them out.
See Jer. v. 22, 23. Heb. xii. two last verses. " Wherefore we
Vol. I. 49

386 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us serve God ac
ceptably with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a con
suming fire."
I am sensible that I am too large on these foregoing heads ;
I will purposely shortenthe rest, lest I weary you.
Direct. XIX. Further understand, ' That those few who do at
tain to assurance, have it not either perfectly or constantly (for the
most part) but mixed with imperfection, and oft clouded and inter
rupted.' That the highest assurance on earth is imperfect, I have showed
you elsewhere. If we be imperfect, and our faith imperfect, and
the knowledge of our own hearts imperfect, and all our evidences
and graces imperfect ; then our assurance must needs be imper
fect also. To dream of perfection on earth, is to dream of heaven
on earth. And if assurance may be here perfect, why not all our
graces ? Even when all doubtings are overcome, yet is assurance
far short of the highest degree.
Besides, that measure of assurance which godly men do partake
of, hath here its many sad interruptions, in the most. Upon the
prevalency of temptations, and the hidings of God's face, their
souls are oft left in a state of sadness, that were but lately in the
arms of Christ. How fully might this be proved from the exam
ples of Joh, David, Jeremy, and others in Scripture ? And much
more abundantly by the daily complaints and examples of the best
of God's people now living among us. As there is no perfect even
ness to be expected in our obedience while we are on earth, so
neither will there be any constant or perfect evenness in our com
forts. He that hath life in one duty, is cold in the next.* And
therefore he that hath much joy in one duty, hath little in the next.
Yea, perhaps duty may but occasion the renewal of his sorrows ; that
the soul who before felt not its own -burden at a sermon, or in prayer,
or holy meditation, which were wont to revive him, now seems to
feel his miseries to be multiplied. The time was once with David,
when thoughts of God were sweet to him, and he could say, " In
the multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my
soul." And yet he saw the time also when he remembered God
and was troubled ; he complained, and his spirit was overwhelmed.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 387
God so held his eyes waking, that he was troubled and could not
speak. He considered the days of old, and the years of ancient
time ; he called to remembrance his song in the night, he com
muned with his own heart, and his spirit made diligent search.
" Will the Lord (saith he) cast off forever? And will he be favorable
no more ? Is his mercy 'clean gone forever ? Doth his promise fail for
evermore ? Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Hath he in anger
shut up his tender mercy ?" Was not this a low ebb, and a sad case
that David was in ? Till at last he saw, this was his infirmity ; Psal.
Ixxii. 1 — 10. Had David no former experiences to remind ? No ar
guments of comfort to consider of ? Yes, but there is at such a
season an incapacity to improve them. There is not only a want
of comfort, but a kind of averseness from it. The soul bendeth
itself to break its own peace, and to put away comfort far from it.
So saith he in ver. 2. " My soul refuseth to be comforted." In
such cases men are witty to argue themselves into distress ; that it
is hard for one that would comfort them to answer them ; and they
are witty in repelling all the arguments of comfort that you can of
fer them ; so that it is hard to fasten any thing on them. They
have a weak wilfulness against their own consolations.
Seeing then that best have such storms and sad interruptions,
do not you wonder or think your case strange if it be so with you ?
Would you speed better than the best ? Long for heaven then,
where only is joy without sorrow, and everlasting rest without in
terruption. Direct. XX. Let me also give you this warning, ' That you
must never expect so much assurance on earth, as shall set you
above the possibility of the loss of heaven ; or above all apprehen
sions of real danger of your miscarrying.'
I conceive this advertisement to be of great necessity. But I
must first tell you the meaning, and then the reasons of it. Only
I am sorry that I know not how to express it fully, but in school-
terms, which are not so familiar to you. That which shall
certainly come to pass, we call a thing future. That which may
and can be done we call possible. All things are not future which
are possible. God can do more than be hath done or will do. He
could have made more worlds, and so more were possible than

388 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
were future. Moreover a thing is said to be possible, in reference
to some power which can accomplish it ; whether it be God's power
or angel's or man's. God hath decreed that none of his elect shall
finally or totally fall away and perish ; and therefore their so fall
ing and perishing is not future ; that is, it is a thing that shall nev
er come to pass. But God never decreed that it should be utter
ly impossible, and therefore it still remaineth possible, though it
shall never come to pass.
Object. ' But it is said, ' They shall deceive, if it were possible,
the very elect.'
Answ. A most comfortable place, which many oppposers of
election and free grace do in vain seek to obscure. But let me
tell you for the right understanding of it, That as I said, possi
ble and impossible are relative terms, and have relation to the pow
er of some agent, as proportioned to the thing to be done. Now
this text speaks only of the power of false Christs, and false pro
phets and the devil by them. Their power of deceiving is exceeding
great, but not great enough to deceive the elect; which is true in
two respects, 1. Because the elect are guided and fortified by
God's Spirit. 2. Because seducers work not efficiently, but final
ly, by propounding objects ; or by a moral, improper efficiency
only. All their seducement cannot force or necessitate us to be de
ceived by them. But though it be impossible to them to do it,
yet it is possible to God to permit (which yet he never will,) and
so possible for ourselves to be our own deceivers, or to give de
ceivers strength against us, by a wilful receiving of their poisoned
baits. 3. Besides Christ spoke not in Aristotle's school, but among
the vulgar, where words must be used in the common sense, or
else they will not be understood. And the vulgar use to call that
impossible which shall never come to pass.
There is a consequential impossibility of the event, because it is
direcdy impossible that God should be mutable or deceived ; even
as contingents may be consequentially and accidentally necessary.
But in its own nature, alas our apostacy is more than possible.
And indeed when we say that it is possible or impossible for a
man to sin or fall away, there is some degree of impropriety in the
terms, because possible and impossible are terms properly relating

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 389
to some power apportioned to a work ; but sinning and falling away
thereby, are the consequents of impotency, and not the effects of
power ; except we speak of the natural act, wherein the sin abid-
eth. But this must be borne with, for want of a fitter word to ex
press our meaning by. But I will leave these things which are not
fit for you, and desire you to leave them and overpass them, if you
understand them not.
I here told you also, that you must not look to be above all
apprehension of danger of your miscarrying. The grounds of this
are these : 1. Because as is said, our miscarrying remaineth still
possible. 2. Because the perfect, certain knowledge of our elec
tion, and that we shall not fall away, is proper to God only ; we
have ourselves but a defective, interrupted assurance of it. 3. The
covenant gives us salvation but on condition of our perseverance,
and perseverance on condition that we quench not the Spirit, which
we shall do if we lose the apprehension of our danger. 4. Ac
cordingly there is a connexion in our assurance, between all the
several causes of our salvation, and necessaries thereto; whereof the
apprehension of danger is one. We are sure we shall be saved, if
we be sure to persevere ; else not. We are sure to persevere, if
we be sure faithfully to resist temptations. We can be no surer of
faithful resisting of temptations, than we are sure to be kept in an
apprehension of our danger.
I still say therefore, that the doctrine of Antinomians is the most
ready way to apostacy and perdition ; and no wonder if it lead to
licentiousness and scandals, which our eyes have seen to be its
genuine fruits ! They cry down the weakness, unbelief, and folly
of poor Christians, that will apprehend themselves in danger of
falling away, and so live in fear, after they are once justified'; and
that if they fall into sin (as whoredom, drunkenness, murder, per
jury, destroying the ministry, and expelling the Gospel, &c.), will
presently question or fear their estates and their justification. Such
like passages I lately read in some printed sermons of one of my
ancient acquaintance, who would never have come to that pass
that he is at now, if his judgment and humility had been as great
as his zeal. I entreat you therefore never to expect such an as
surance as shall extinguish all your apprehensions of danger. He

390 OIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
that sees not the danger, is nearest it, and likely to fall into it.
Only he that seeth and apprehendeth it, is likely to avoid it. He
that seeth no danger of falling away, is in greatest danger of it. I
doubt not but that is the cause of the seditions, scandals, heresies,
blood-guiltliness, destroyers of the churches of Christ, and most
horrid apostacies, hypocrisy, and wickedness, which these late
times have been guilty of; and they apprehended not the danger of
ever coming into such a state, or ever doing such things, but would
have said, ' Am I a dog ?' to him that should have foretold them
what is come to pass. Wonderful ! that men should be so blinded
by false doctrine, as not to know that the apprehension of danger
is made in the very fabrication of the nature of man, to be the very
engine to move his soul in all ways of self-preservation and salva
tion ! Yea, it is that very supposed principle upon which all the
government of the world, and the laws and order of every nation,
are grounded. We could not keep the very brutes from tearing
us in pieces, but for their own safety, because they apprehended
themselves to be in danger by it. The fear of man is that restrain
ed! tbem. But for this, no man's life would be in any safety, for
every malicious man would be a murderer. He that feareth not the
loss of his own life, is master of another man's. Do these men
think that the apprehension of bodily dangers may carry them on
through all undertakings, and be the potent string of most of their
actions, and warrant all those courses that else would be unwar
rantable, so that they dare plead necessity to warrant those fearful
things which by extenuating language (like Saul's) are called ir
regularities ! And yet that it is unlawful or unmeet for a Christian,
yea the weakest Christian, to live in any apprehensions of danger
to their soul : either danger of sinning, or falling away, or per-
isbingfor ever ? No wonder if such do sin, and fall away and per
ish. Would these men have fought well by sea or land, if they had
apprehended no danger ? Would the earth have been so covered
with carcasses, and with blood (yea, even of saints) and the world
filled with the doleful calamities that accompanied and have follow
ed, if there had been no apprehensions of danger ? Would they
take physic when they are sick ? Would they avoid fire or water,
or thieves, but through an apprehension of danger? Let them talk

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. C91
what they please, if ever they escape bell, without a deep appre
hension of the danger of it, it must be in a way not known by
Scripture, or by natupe. Sure I am Paul did tame his body, and
bring it into subjection, through an apprehension of this danger,
lest when he had preached to others, himself should be a castaway
or reprobate? 2 Cor. ix. 27. And Christ himself, when he bid-
deth us " fear not them that can kill the body," (whom yet these
men think it lawful to fear and fight against) yet chargeth us with a
double charge, to " fear him that is able to destroy both body and
soul in hell : yea, I say unto you, (saith Christ,) fear him ;" Luke
xii. 5. What can be plainer ? and to his disciples ? My detesta
tion of these destructive Antinomian principles, makes me to run
out further against them than I intended ; though it were easy more
abundantly to manifest their hatefulness. But my reasons are
these : 1. Because the mountebanks are still thrusting in them
selves, and impudently proclaiming their own skill, and the excel
lency of their remedies for the cure of wounded consciences, and
the settling of peace ; when indeed their receipts are rank poison,
gilded with the precious name of Christ, and free grace. 2 . Be
cause I would not have your doubtings cured by the devil ; for he
will but cure one disease with another, and a lesser with a far great
er. If he can so cure your fears and doubtings, as to bring you
into carnal security and presumption, he will lose nothing by the
cure, and you will get nothing. If he can turn a poor, doubting,
troubled Christian to be a secure Antinomian, he hath cured the
smart of a cut finger by casting them into a lethargy, or stupefac
tion by his opium. To go to Antinomian receipts to cure a trou
bled soul, is as going to a witch to cure the body. 3. 1 would have
you sensible of God's goodness to you, in these very troubles that
you have so long laid under. Your blessed physician knew your
disease, and the temperature of your soul. Perhaps he saw that
you were in some danger of being carried away with the honors,
profits, or treasures of this world ; and would have been entangled
in either covetousness, pride, voluptuousness, or some such despe
rate sin. And now by these constant and extraordinary apprehen
sions of your danger, these sins have been much kept under, temp
tations weakened, and your danger prevented. If you have found

392 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
no such inclinations in yourself, yet God might find them. Had
it not been far worse for you to have lain so many years in pride,
sensuality, and forgetfulness of God, and utter neglect of the state
of your soul, than to have lain so long as you have done in the ap
prehensions of your danger? O love and admire your wise Phy
sician ! Little do you know now what he hath been doing for
you ; nor shall you ever fully know it in this life ; but hereafter
you shall know it, when your sanctification, and consolation and his
praises shall be perfected together. 4. If you should for the time
to come, expect or desire that God should set you out of all appre
hension of danger, you know not what it is that you desire. It
were to desire your own undoing. Only see that you apprehend
not your danger to be greater than it is ; nor so apprehend it as to
increase it, by driving you from Christ, but as to prevent it by driv
ing you to him. Entertain not fancies and dreams of danger, in
stead of right apprehensions. Apprehend your happiness and
grounds of hope and comfort, and safety m Christ, and let these
quite exceed your apprehensions of the danger. Look not on it as a
remediless danger, or as greater than the remedy. Do not con
clude that you shall perish in it, and it will swallow you up. But
only let it make you hold fast on Christ, and keep close to him in
obedience. Shall I lay open all the matter expressed in this sec
tion, by familiar comparison ?
A king having many subjects and sons, which are all beyond sea,
or beyond some river, they must needs be brought over to him be
fore they can live or reign with him. The river is frozen over at
the sides, till it come almost to the middle. The foolish children
are all playing on the ice, where a deceiving enemy enticeth them
to play on till they come to the deep, where they drop in one by
one and perish. The eldest son, who is with the father on the other
side, undertaketh to cast himself into the water, aud swim to the
further side, and break the ice, and swim back with them all that
will come with him and hold him. The father bids him, ' Bring
all my subjects with you, if they will come and hold by you ; but
be sure you fail not to bring my sons.' This is resolved on ; the
prince casteth himself into the water, and swimmeth to the further
side. He maketh a way through the ice, and offereth all of them

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 393
his safe carriage, if they will accept him to be their bearer and
helper, and will trust themselves on him, and hold fast by him till
they come to the further side. Some refuse his help, and tbink
he would deceive them, and lead them into the deep, and there
leave them to perish. Some had rather play on the ice, and will not
hearken to him. Some dare not venture through the streams, or
will not endure the coldness of the water. Some waveringly agree
to him, and hold faintly by his skirt; and when they feel the cold
water, or are near the deep, or are weary of holding, they lose him ;
either turning back, or perishing suddenly in the gulf. The child
ren are of the same mind with the rest ; but he is resolved to lose
none of them, and therefore he chargeth them to come with him,
and tells them fully what a welcome they shall have with their fa
ther ; and ceaseth not his importunity till he persuade them to con
sent. Some of them say, ' How shall we ever get over the river ?
we shall be drowned by the way.' He tells them, 'I will carry
you safe over, so you will but hold fast by me. Never fear, 1
warrant you.' They all lay hold on him, and venture in with him.
When they are in the midst some are afraid, and cry out, ' We
shall be drowned.' These he encourageth, and bids them trust
him ; hold fast, and fear not. Others, when they hear these words,
that they need not fear, grow so bold and utterly secure, as to
lose their hold. To these he speaketh in other language, and
chargeth them to hold fast by him ; for if they lose their hold, they
will fall into the bottom, and if they stick not to him they will be
drowned. Some of them upon this warning hold fast ; others are
so boldly confident of his skill, and good will, and promise, that
they forget or value not his warning and threatening, but lose their
hold. Some through laziness and weariness do the like. Where
upon he lets them sink till they are almost drowned, and cry out
for help, " Save us or we perish," and think they are all lost ; and
then he layeth hold of them and fetcheth them up again, and chid-
eth them for their bold folly, and biddeth them look better to them
selves, and hold faster by him hereafter, if they love them
selves. Some at last, through mere weariness and weakness, be
fore they can reach the bank, cry out, ' O I am tired, I faint, I shall
never hold fast till I reach the shore, I shall be drowned.' These
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394 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
he comforteth, and gives them cordials, and holdeth them by tbe
hand, and bids them, Despair not : Do your best : Hold fast, and
I will help you. And so he brings them all safe to the haven.
This king is God ; heaven is his habitation ; the subjects are all
men ; the sons, who are part of the subjects, are the elect ; the
rest are the non-elect ; the river or sea is the passage of this life.
The further side is all men's natural, sinful distance and separation
from God and happiness ; the ice that bears them, is this frail life
of pleasures, profits, and honors, which delight the flesh; the depth
unfrozen is hell ; he that enticeth them thither is the devil. The
eldest son that is sent to bring them over, is Jesus Christ; his com
mission and undertaking is, to help all over that refuse not his help;
and to see that the elect be infallibly recovered and saved. Do
I need to go over the other particulars ? I know you see my mean
ing in them all : especially that which I aim at is this ; that as
Paul had a promise of tbe life of all that were with him in the ship,
and yet when some would have gone out, he told them, " Except
these abide in the ship ye cannot be saved," Acts xxvii. 31. (so
that he makes their apprehension of danger in a possibility of being
drowned, to be the means of detaining them in the ship till they
came all safe to land) so Jesus Christ who will infallibly save all
his elect (they being given him by his Father to be infallibly
saved) will do it by causing them to hold fast by him through all the
troubles, and labors, and temptations of this tumultuous, tempestu
ous world, and that till they come to land ; and the apprehension
of their dangers shall be his means to make them hold fast ; yet is
not their safety principally in themselves, but in him : nor is it their
holding fast by him that is the chief cause of their difference from
those that perish, but that is his love and resolution to save them.
And therefore when they do let go their hold, he will not so lose
them, but will fetch them up again ; only he will not bring them
through the sea of danger as you would draw a block through the
water ; but as men that must hold fast, and be commanded and
threatened to that end ; and therefore when they lose their hold,
it is the fear of drowning which they felt themselves near, which
shall cause them to hold faster the next time ; and this must needs
be the fear of a possible danger. And for those that perish, they
have none to blame but themselves. They perish not for want of

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 395
a Savior, but because they would not lay hold on him, and follow
him through the tempests and waves of trial. Nor can they quar
rel at him because he did more for others, and did not as much for
them as long as he offered them so sufficient help, that only their
own wilful refusal was their ruin, and their perdition was of them
selves. I conclude therefore, that seeing our salvation is laid by God, up
on our faithful holding fast to Christ through all trials and difficul
ties, and our holy fear is the means of our holding fast (Christ be
ing still the principal cause of our safety,) therefore never look for
such a certainty of salvation, as shall put you above such fears and
moderated apprehensions of danger ; for then it is ten to one you
will lose your hold. You read in Scripture very many warnings
to take heed lest we fall, and threatenings to those that do fall away
and draw back. What are all these for, but to excite in us those
moderate fears, and cares, and holy diligence, which may prevent
our falling away ? And remember this, that there can be no such
holy fears, and cares, and diligence, where there is no danger or
possibility of falling away ; for there can be no act without its
proper object ; and the object of fear is a possible hurt, at least
in the apprehension of him that feareth it. No man can fear the
evil which he knoweth to be impossible.
Direct. XXI. The next advice which I must give you, is this,
' Be thankful if you can but reach to a settled peace, and com
posure of your mind, and lay not too much on the high raptures and
feelings of comfort which some do possess : and if ever you enjoy
such feeling joys, expect not that they should be either long or
often.' It is the cause of miserable languishing to many a poor soul, to
have such importunate expectations of such passionate joys, that
they think without these they have no true comfort at all ; no wit
ness ofthe Spirit, no spirit of adoption, no joy in the Holy Ghost.
Some think that others have much of this, though they have not,
and therefore they torment themselves because it is not with them
as with others ; when, alas, they little know how it goes with oth
ers. Some taste of such raptures sometimes themselves have had,
and therefore when they are gone, they think they are forsaken,

396 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
and that all grace, or peace at least is gone with them. Take heed
of these expectations. And to satisfy you, let me tell you these
two or three things : 1. A settled calm and peace of soul is a great
mercy, and not to be undervalued as nothing. 2. The highest rap
tures and passionate feeling joys, are usually of most doubtful sin
cerity. Not that I would have any suspect the sincerity of them
without cause ; but such passions are not so certain signs of grace,
as the settled frame of the understanding and will ; nor can we so
easily know that they are of tbe Spirit, and they are liable to more
questioning, and have in them a greater possibility of deceit.
Doubtless it is very much that fancy and melancholy, and especial
ly a natural weakness and moveable temper will do in such cases.
Mark whether it be not mostly these three sorts of people that have
or pretend to have such extraordinary raptures and feelings of joy.
(1.) Women and others that are most passionate. (2.) Melancholy
people. (3.) Men that by erroneous opinions have lost almost all
their understandings in their fancies, and live like men in a con
tinual dream. Yet I doubt not but solid men have oft high joys ;
and more we might all have, if we did our duty. And I would have
no Christian content himself with a dull quietness of spirit, but by
all means possible to be much in laboring to rejoice in God and
raising their souls to heavenly delights. O what lives do we lose,
which we might enjoy ! But my meaning is this ; look at these
joys and delights as duties and as mercies, but look not at them as
marks of trial, so as to place more necessity in them than God hath
done, or to think them to be ordinary things. If you do but feel
such a high estimation of Christ and heaven, that you would not
leave him for all the world, take this for your surest sign. And if
you have but so much probability or hope of your interest in him,
that you can think of God as one that loveth you, and can be thank
ful to Christ for redeeming you, and are more glad in these hopes
of your interest in Christ and glory, than if you were owner of all
the world ; take this for a happy mercy, and a high consolation.
Yet I mean not that your joy in Christ will be always so sensible,
as for worldly things ; but it will be more rational, solid and deeper
at the heart. And that you may know by this, you would not for all
the pleasure?, honors or profits in the world, be iu the same case

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 397
as once you were (supposing that you were converted since you
had the use of reason and memory,) or at least as you see the un
godly world still lie in.
3. And let me add this : commonly those that have the highest
passionate joys, have the saddest lives ; for they have withal, the
most passionate fears and sorrows. Mark it, whether you find not
this prove true. And it is partly from God's will in his dispensa
tions ; partly from their own necessities, who after their exaltations
do usually need a prick in the flesh, and a minister of satan to buf
fet them, lest they be exalted above measure ; and partly, and
most commonly ; it is from the temperature of their bodies. Weak,
passionate women, of moveable spirits and strong affections, when
they love, they love violently, and when they rejoice, especially in
such cases, they have most sensible joys, and when any fears arise,
they have most terrible sorrows. I know it is not so with all of
that sex ; but mark the same people that usually have the highest
joys, and see whether at other times they have not the greatest
troubles. This week they are as at the gates of heaven, and the
next as at the doors of hell : I am sure, with many it is so. Yet
it need not be so, if Christians would but look at these high joys
as duties to be endeavored, and mercies to be valued ; but when
they will needs judge of their state by them, and think that God is
gone from them or forsaken them, when they have not such joys,
then it leaves them in terror and amazement. Like men after a
flash of lightning, that are left more sensible of the darkness. For
no wise man can expect that such joys should be a Christian's or
dinary state ; or God should so diet us with a continual feast. It
would neither suit with our heallh, nor the condition of this pil
grimage. Live therefore on your peace of conscience as your or
dinary diet; when this is wanting, know that God appointeth you
a fast for your health ; and when you have a feast of high joys,
feed on it and be thankful ; but when they are taken from you,
gape not after them as the disciples did after Christ at his ascen
sion ; but return thankfully to your ordinary diet of peace.
-And remember that these joys, which are now taken from you,
may so return again. However, there is a place preparing for
you, where your joys shall be full.

398 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Direct. XXII. My next Direction is this, ' Spend more of your
time and care about your duty than about your comforts : and for
the exercise and increase of your graces, than for the discovery of
them : and when you have done all that you can for assurance and
comfort, you shall find that it will very much depend on your ac
tual obedience.'
This Direction is of as great importance as any that I have yet
given you ; but I shall say but little of it, because I have spoke of
it so fully already in my Book of Rest, Part iii. Chap. 8 — 1 1 . My
reasons for what I here assert are these : 1. Duty goeth in order
of nature and time, before comfort, as the precept is before the
promise : comfort is part of the reward, and therefore necessarily
supposed] the duty. 2. Grace makes men both so ingenious and
divine, as to consider God's due as well as their own ; and what
they should do, as well as what they shall have, still remembering
that our works cannot merit at God's hands. 3. As we must have
grace before we can know we have it, so ordinarily we must have
a good measure of grace, before we can so clearly discern it as to
be certain of it. Small things, I have told you, are next to none,
and hardly discernible by weak eyes. When all ways in the werld
are tried, it will be found that there is no way ¦so sure for a doubt
ing soul to be made certain of the fruth of his graces, as to keep
them in action and get them increased. And it will be found that
there is no one cause of Christians doubting of the truth of their
faith, love, hope, repentance, humility, &ic. so great or so common
as the small degree of these graces. Doth not the very language
of complaining Christians shew this ? One saith, ' I have no faith ;
I cannot believe ; I have no love to God ; 1 have no delight in du
ty.' Another saitb, ' I cannot mourn for sin, my heart was never
broken ; I cannot patiently bear an injury; I have no courage in
opposing sin, fee' If all these were not in a low and weak degree,
men could not so ordinarily think they had none. A lively, strong,
working faith, love, zeal, courage, &c. would shew themselves, as
do the highest towers, the greatest mountains, the strongest winds,
the greatest flames, which will force an observance by their great-.
ness and effects. 4. Consider also that it is more pleasing to God
to see his people study him and his will directly, than to spend the

SPIRITUAL PEACH AND COMFORT. 399
first and chiefest of their studies about the attaining of comforts to
themselves. 5. And it is the nature of grace to tend first and chief
ly toward God ; and but secondarily to be the evidence of our own
happiness. We have faith given us principally that we might be
lieve, and live by it in daily applications of Christ : we have re
pentance, that it might break us off from sin, and bring us back to
God ; we have love, that we might love God and our Redeemer,
his saints, and laws, and ways ; we have zeal, that we might be
quickened in all our holy duties ; and we have obedience, lo keep
us in the way of duty. The| first thing we have to do with these
graces, is to use them^for those holy ends which their nature doth
express : and then the discerning of them that we may have as
surance, followeth after this both in time and dignity. 6. And it
is a matter of far greater concernment to ourselves to seek after the
obtaining"of Christ and grace, than after the certain knowledge
that we have them. You may be saved though you never get as
surance here, but you cannot be saved without Christ and grace.
God hath not made assurance the condition of your salvation. It
tends indeed exceedingly to your comfort, and a precious mercy
it is ; but your safety lieth not on it. It is bettero t go sorrowful
and doubting to heaven, than comfortably to hell. First therefore
ask what is the condition of salvation and the way to it, and then
look that you do your best to perform it, and to go that way, and
then try your performance in its season. 7. Besides, as it is a
work of far greater moment, so also of quicker dispatch, to believe
and love Christ truly, than to get assurance that you do truly be
lieve and love him. You may believe immediately, (by the help
of God's grace,) but getting assurance of it may be the work of a
great part of your life. Let me therefore entreat this one thing of
you, that when you feel the want of any grace, you would not
presently bend all your thoughts upon the inquiry, whether it be
true or no ; but rather say to yourself, ' I see trying is a great and
difficult, a long and tedious work : I may be this many years about
it, and possibly be unresolved still. If I should conclude that I
have no grace, I may be mistaken ; and so I may if I think that I
have it. I may inquire of friends and ministers long, and yet be
left in doubt ; it is therefore my surest way to seek presently to ob-

400 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
tain it, if I have it not, and to increase it if I have it. And I am
certain none of that labor will be lost ; to get more is the way to
know I have it.'
But perhaps you will say, ' How should I get more grace ?
That is a business of greater difficulty than so.' I answer, Under
stand what I told you before, that as the beginning of grace is in
your understanding, so the heart and life of it is in your will ; and
the affections and passionate part are but the fruits and branches.
If therefore your grace be weak, it is chiefly in an unwillingness to
yield to Christ, and his word and Spirit. Now, how should an
unwilling soul be made willing? Why thus, 1. Pray constantly
as you are able, for a willing mind, and yielding, inclinable heart
to Christ. 2. Hear constantly those preachers that bend their
doctrine to inform your understanding of the great necessity and
excellency of Christ, and grace, and glory ; and to persuade the
will with the most forcible arguments. A persuading, quickening
ministry, that helps to excite your graces, and draw up your heart
to Christ, is more useful than they that spend most of their time
to persuade you of your sincerity, and give you comfort. 3. But
especially lay out your thoughts more in the most serious considera
tions of those things which tend to breed and feed those particular
graces which you would have increased. Objects and moving rea
sons kept much upon the mind by serious thoughts, are the great
engine appointed both by nature and by grace, to turn about the
soul of man. Thoughts are to your soul, as taking in the air, and
meat and drink to your body. Objects considered, do turn the
soul into their own nature. Such as are the things that you most
think and consider of (I mean in pursuance of them,) such will you
be yourself. Consideration, frequent serious consideration, is God's
great instrument to convert the sou), and to confirm it; to get
grace, and to keep it, and increase it. If any soul perish for want
of grace, it is ten to one it is mainly for want of frequent and seri
ous consideration. That the most of us do languish under such
weaknesses, and attain to small degrees of grace, is for want of so
ber, frequent consideration. We know not how great things this
would do, if it were but faithfully managed. This then is my ad
vice, when you feel so great a want of faith and love (for those be

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 401
the main graces for trial and use,) that you doubt whether you have
any or none, lay by those doubting thoughts awhile, and presently
go and set yourself to consider of God's truth, goodness, amiable-
ness, and kindheartedness to miserable, unworthy sinners ; think
what he is in himself, and what he is to you, and what he hath done
for you, and what he will do for you if you will but consent. And
then think of the vanity of all the childish pleasures of this world ;
how soon, and in how sad a case they will leave us ; and what silly,
contemptible things they are, in comparison of the everlasting glory
of the saints ! By that time you have warmed your soul a little
with such serious thoughts, you will find your faith and love revive,
and begin to stir and work within you ; and then you will feel that
you have faith and love. Only remember what I told you before,
that the heart and soul of saving faith and love (supposing a belief
that the Gospel is true,) is all in this one act of willingness and con
sent to have Christ as he is offered. Therefore if you doubt of
your faith and love, it is your own willingness that you doubt of, or
else you know not what you do. Now methinks, if you took but a
sobei view of the goodness of God, and the glory of heaven on one
side, and of the silly, empty, worthless world on the other side ; and
then ask your heart which it will choose ; and say to yourself, ' O
my soul, the God of glory offers thee thy choice of dung and van
ity for a little time, or of the unconceivable joys of heaven for ever :
which wilt thou choose ?' I say, methinks the answer of your soul
should presently resolve you, that you do believe, and that you love
God above this present world ! For if you can choose him before
the world, then you are more willing of him than the world : and
if he have more of your will, for certain that he hath more of your
faith and love. Use, therefore, instead of doubting of your faith,
to believe till you put it out of doubt. And if yet you doubt, study
God and Christ, and glory yet better, and keep those objects by
consideration close to your heart, whose nature is to work the heart
to faith and love. For certainly objects have a mighty power on
the soul ; and certainly God, and Christ, and grace, and glory, are
mighty objects ; as able to make a full and deep impression on
man's soul, as any in the world ; and if they work not, -it is not
through any imperfection in them, but because they be not well ap-
Vol. 1. 51

402 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
plied, and by consideration held upon the heart, that they may
work. Perhaps you will say, that meditation is too hard a work
for you, and that your memory is so weak that you want matter to
meditate upon ; or if you do meditate on these, yet you feel no
great motion or alteration on your heart. To this I answer ; if
you want matter, take the help of some book that will afford you
matter ; and if you want life in meditation, peruse the most quick
ening writings you can get. If you have not better at hand, read
over (and seriously consider as you read it,) those passages in the
end of my Book of Rest, which direct you in the exercises of these
graces, and give you some matter for your meditation to work up
on : and remember, that if you can increase the resolved choice of
your will, you increase your love, though you feel not those affec
tionate workings that you desire.
Let me ask you now whether you have indeed taken this course
in your doubtings ? If not, how unwisely have you done. Doubt
ing is no cure, but actual believing and loving is a cure. If faith
and love were things that you would fain get, but cannot, then you
had cause enough to fear, and to lie down and rise up in trouble of
mind from one year to another. But it is no such matter ; it is so
far from being beyond your reach or power to have these graces,
though you would, that they themselves are nothing else but your
very willingness ; at least your willingness to have Christ, is both
your faith and love. It may be said therefore to be in the power
of your will, which is nothing else but that actual willingness which
you have already. If therefore you are unwilling to have him,
what makes you complain for want of the sense of his presence,
and the assurance of his love, and the graces of his Spirit, as you
frequently do ? It is strange to me, that people should make so
many complaints to God and men, and spend so many sad hours
in fears and trouble, and all for want of that which they would not
have. If you be not willing, be willing now. If you say you can
not, do as I have before directed you. One hour's sober, serious
thoughts of God and the world, of Christ and satan, of sin and holi
ness, of heaven and hell, and the differences of them, will do very
much to make you willing. Yet mistake me not ; though I say you
may have Christ if you will, and faith and love if you will, and no

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 403
man can truly say, ' I would be glad to have Christ (as he is offered)
but cannot ;' yet this gladness, consent, or willingness which I men
tion, is the effect ofthe special work ofthe Spirit, and wasnot in your
power before you had it ; nor is it yet so in your power as to be
lieve, without God's furdier helping you. But he that hath made
you willing, will not be wanting to maintain your willingness. Though
I will say to any man, You may have Christ if you will ; yet I will
say to no man, You can be willing of yourself, or without the spe
cial grace of God.
Nay, let me further ask ; Have you not darkened, buried, or
weakened your graces, instead of exercising and increasing them,
even then when you complained for want of assurance of them ?
When you found a want of faith and love, have not you weakened them
more, and so made them less discernible ? Have you not fed your
unbelief, and disputed for your doubtings, and taken Satan's part
against yourself; and (which is far worse) have you never, through
these doubtings, entertained hard thoughts of God, and presented
him to your soul, as unwilling to shew you mercy, and in an un
lovely, dreadful, hideous shape, fitter to affright you from him, than
to draw you to him and likelier to provoke your hatred than your
love ? If you have not done thus, I know too many troubled souls
that have. And if you have, you have taken a very unlikely way
to get assurance. If you would have been certain that you loved
God in sincerity, you should have labored to love him more, till
you had been certain; and that you might do so, you should have
kept better thoughts of God in your mind. You will hardly love
him while you think of him as evil, or at least as hurtful to you.
Never forgot this rule which I lay you down in the beginning, that
He that will ever love God, must apprehend him to be good. And
the more large and deep are our apprehensions of his goodness,
the more will be our love. For such as God appears to be to men's
fixed conceivings, such will their affections be to him. For the
fixed, deep conceptions, or apprehensions of the mind, do lead
about the soul, and guide the life.
I conclude therefore with this important and importunate request
to you, that, Though it be a duty necessary in its time and place,
to examine ourselves concerning our sincerity, in our several graces

404 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
and duties to God ; yet be sure that the first and far greater part of
your time, and pains, and care, and inquiries, be for the getting and
increasing of your grace, than for the discerning it ; and to perform
your duty rightly, than to discern your right performance. And
when you confer with ministers, or others, that may teach you, see
that you ask ten times at least, ' How should I get or increase my
faith, my love to Christ, and to his people ?' for once that you
ask, ' How shall I know that I believe or love ?' Yet so contrary
hath been, and still is, the practice of most Christians among us in
this point, that I have heard it twenty times asked, ' How shall I
know that I truly love the brethren ?' for once that I have heard
it demanded, ' How should I bring my heart to love them better ?
And the like I may say of love to Christ himself.
I should next have spoken of the second part of the Direction,
How much our assurance and comfort will still depend on our ac
tual obedience. But this will fall in, in handling the two or three
next following Directions.
Direct. XXLTI. My next advice is this, ' Think not those doubts
and troubles of mind, which are caused and continued by wilful dis
obedience, will ever be well healed but by the healing of that dis
obedience ; or that the same means must be used, and will suffice
to the cure of such troubles ; which must be used, and will suffice
to cure the troubles of a tender conscience, and of an obedient
Christian, whose trouble is merely through mistakes of their con
dition.' I will begin with the latter part of this Direction. He that is
troubled upon mere mistakes, may be quieted upon the removal of
them. If he understood not the universal extent of Christ's satis
faction, or of the covenant or conditional grant of Christ and life in
him ; and if upon this he be troubled, as thinking that he is not in
cluded, the convincing him of his error may suffice to the removal
of his trouble. If he be troubled through his mistaking the nature
of true faith, or true love, or other graces, and so think that he hath
them not, when he hath them, the discovery of his error may be
the quieting of his soul. The soul that is troubled upon such mis
takes, must be tenderly dealt with. Much more they that are dis
quieted by groundless fears, or too deep apprehensions of the wrath

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMJj'ORT. 405
or justice of God, of the evil of sin, and of their unworthiness, and
for want of fuller apprehensions of tho loving kindness of God, and
the tender, compassionate nature of Christ. We can scarce handle
such souls too gently. God would. have all to be tenderly dealt
with, that are tender of displeasing and dishonoring him by sin.
God's own language may teach all ministers what language we
should use to such, Isa. lvii. 15 — 21. " Thus saith the high and
lofty One, that inhabited! eternity, whose name is Holy ; I dwell
in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and
humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the
heart of the contrite ones. For I will not contend for ever, neither
will I be always wroth. For the spirit should fail before me, and
the souls which I have made, he. But the wicked are like the
troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and
dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." Much
more tender language may such expect from Christ in the Gospel,
where is contained a fuller revelation of his grace. If Mary, a
poor, sinful woman, lie weeping at his feet, and washing them with
her tears, he hath not the heart to spurn her away ; but openly
proclaims the forgiveness of her many sins. As soon as ever the
heart of a sinner is turned from his sins, the heart of Christ is turn
ed to him. The very sum of all the Gospel is contained in those
precious words, which fully express this : " Come unto me all ye
that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my
yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in
heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is
easy and my burden is light ;" Matt. xi. 28 — 30. When the
prodigal (Luke xv. 20.) doth once come home to his father, with
sorrow and shame, confessing his unworthiness, yea, but resolved
to confess it ; his father preventeth him, and sees him afar off, and
stays not his coming, but runs and meets him. And when he comes
to him, he doth not upbraid him with his sins, nor say, Thou rebel,
why hast thou forsaken me, and preferred harlots and luxury before
me ? Nay, he doth not so much as frown upon him, but compas
sionately falls on his neck and kisseth him. Alas, God knows that
a poor sinner in this humbled, troubled case, hath burden enough
on his back already, and indeed more than he is able of himself to

406 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
bear. The sense of his own sinful folly and misery is burden
enough. If God should add to this his frowns and terrors, and
should spurn at a poor sinner that lies prostrate at his feet, in tears
or terrors, who then should be able to stand before him, or to look
him in the face ? But be will not break the bruised reed ; he wil[
not make heavier the burden of a sinner. He calls them to come
to him for ease and rest, and not to oppress them, or kill them with
terrors. We have not a king like Rehoboam, that will multiply
our pressures ; but one whose office it is to break our yokes, and
loose our bonds, and set us free. When he was a preacher him
self on earth, you may gather what doctrines he preached by his
text, which he chose at one of his first public sermons ; which, as
you may find in Luke iv. 18, 19. was this, " Tbe Spirit of the
Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the Gos
pel to the poor ; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted ; to
preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the
blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised ; to preach the accept
able year ofthe Lord." O if a poor, bruised, wounded soul, had
but heard this sermon from his Saviour's own mouth, what heart-
meltings would it have caused ? What pangs of love would it have
raised in him ? You would sure have believed then that the Lord
is gracious, when " all (that heard him) bare him witness, and won
dered at the gracious words that proceeded out of his mouth ;"
Luke iv. 22. I would desire no more for the comfort of such a
soul, than to see such a sight, and feel such a feeling as tbe poor
penitent prodigal did, when he found himself in the arms of his fa
ther, and felt the kisses of his mouth, and was surprised so unex
pectedly with such a torrent of love. The soul that hath once seen
and felt this, would never sure have such hard and doubtful
thoughts of God, except through ignorance they knew not whose
arms they were that thus embraced them, or whose voice it was
that thus bespoke them ; or unless the remembrance of it were
gone out of their minds. You see then what is God's own lan
guage to humbled penitents, and what is the method of his deal
ings with them ; and such must be the language and dealing of his
ministers : they must not wound when Christ would heal ; nor

SPIRITUAL PEACis AND COMFORT. 407
make sad the heart that Christ would comfort, and would not have
made sad ; Ezek. xiii. 22.
But will this means serve turn, or must the same course be
taken to remove the sorrows of the wilfully disobedient? No.
God takes another course himself, and prescribes another course
to his ministers; and requires another course from the sinner him
self. But still remember who it is that I speak of: it is not tbe
ordinary, unavoidable infirmities of the saints that I speak of; such
as they cannot be rid of, though they fain would ; such as Paul
speaks of, Rom. vii. 19. "The good that I would do, I do not :"
and " when I would do good, evil is present with me." And Gal.
v. 17. " The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, &lc so that we can
not do the things we would." A true Christian would love God
more perfectly, and delight in him more abundantly, and bring
every thought in subjection to his will, and subdue the very rem
nants of carnal concupiscence, that there should be no stirrings of
lust or unjust anger, or worldly desires, or pride within him ; and
that no vain word might pass his lips : all this he would do, but he
cannot. Striving against these unavoidable infirmities, is conquer
ing. But though we cannot keep under every motion of concupis
cence, we can forbear the execution. Anger will stir up provoca
tions ; but we may restrain it in degree, that it set us not in a flame,
and do not much distemper or discompose our minds. And we
can forbid our tongues all raging, furious, or abusive words in our
anger ; all cursing, swearing, or reproachful speaking. If an en
vious thought against one brother do arise in our hearts, because
he is preferred before us, we may hate it and repress it, and chide
our hearts for it, and command our tongues to speak well of him,
and no evil. Some pride and self-esteem will remain and be stir
ring in us, do what we can ; it is a sin so deeply rooted in our cor
rupt natures. But yet we can detest it, and resist it, and meet it
with abhorrence of our self-conceited thoughts, and rejoicings in
our own reputations and fame, and inward heart-risings against those
that undervalue us, and stand in the way of our repute ; and we
may forbear our boasting language, and our contestings for our
credit, and our excuses of our sins, and our backbitings and secret

408 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
defaming of those that cross us in the way of credit. We m y for
bear our quarrels, and estrangements, and dividings from our breth
ren, and stiff insisting on our own conceits, and expecting that oth
ers should make our judgments their rule, and say and do as we
would have them, and all dance after our pipe ; all which are the
effects of inward pride. We cannot, while we are on earth, be
free from all inordinate love of the world, and the riches and hon
ors of it; but we may so watch against and repress it, asthatitshall
neither be preferred before God, nor draw us to unlawful ways of
gain, by lying, deceit, and overreaching our brethren ; by stealing,
unjust or unmerciful dealings; oppressing the poor, and insulting
over those that are in the way of our thriving, and crushing them
that would hinder our aspiring designs, and treading them down
that will not bow to us, and taking revenge of them that have cross
ed or disparaged us, or cruelly exacting all our rights and debts of
the poor, and squeezing the purses of subjects or tenants, or those
that we bargain with, like a sponge, as long as any thing will como
out. Yea, we may so far subdue our love of the world, as that it
shall not hinder us from being merciful to the poor, compassionate
to our servants and laborers, and bountiful to our power in doing
good works ; nor yet shut out God's service from our families and
closets ; nor rob him of our frequent, affectionate thoughts, espe
cially on the Lord's day. So for sensuality, or the pleasing of our
flesh more immediately; we shall never on earth be wholly freed from
inordinate motions, and temptations, and fleshly desires, and urgent
inclinations and solicitations to forbidden things. But yet we may
restrain our appetite by reason, so far that it brings us not to glut
tony and drunkenness, and a studying for our bellies, and pamper
ing of our flesh, or a taking care for it, and making provision to sat
isfy its lusts ; Rom. xiii. 14. We may forbear the obeying it, in
excess of apparel, in indecent, scandalous, or time-wasting recrea
tions in uncleanness, or unchaste speeches or behavior, or the read
ing of amorous books and sonnets, or feeding our eyes or thoughts
on filthv or enticing objects, or otherwise wilfully blowing the fire
of lust. So also for the performance of duty. We shall never in
this life be able to hear or read so diligently, and understandingly,
or affectionately, as we would do ; nor to remember or profit by

SPIRITUAL PE ICE AND COMFORT. 409
what we hear, as we desire. But yet we can bring ourselves to the
congregation, and not prefer our ease, or business, or any vain
thing before God's word and worship, or loathe or despise it, be
cause of some weakness in the speaker. And we may in a great
measure restrain our thoughts from wandering, and force ourselves
to attend ; and labor when we come home to recal it to mind.
We cannot call on God so fervently, believingly, or delightfully, as
we would ; but yet we may do it as sincerely as we can, and do it
constantly. We cannot instruct our children and servants, and re
prove or exhort our neighbors, with that boldness, or love, and
compassion, and discretion, and meet expressions, as we would ;
but yet we may do it faithfully and frequently as we are able.
So that you may see in all this, what sin it is that Paul speaks
of, Rom. vii. when he saith, When he would do good, evil is pres
ent with him ; and that he is led captive to the law of sin, and
serves the law of sin with his flesh. And Gal. iv. 17. when he
saith, " We cannot do the things that we would," he speaks not of
wilful sinning or gross sin, but of unavoidable infirmities; whereby
also we are too often drawn into a committing of many sins which
we might avoid (for so the best do.)
And because you may often read and hear of sins of infirmity, as
distinguished from other sins, let me here give you notice, that
this word may be taken in several senses, and that there are three
several sorts of infirmity in the godly.
1. There are those sins which a man cannot avoid though he
would ; which are in the gentlest sense called sins of infirmity.
Here note, first, that Adam had none such : and socondly, that the
reason of them is, because, 1. Our reason which should direct, and
our wills themselves which should command, are both imperfect. 2.
And our faculties that should be commanded and directed, are by
sin grown impotent and obstinate, and have contracted a rebelling,
disobedient disposition. 3. And that degree of grace, which the
best attain to in this life, is not such as wholly to overcome either
the imperfection ofthe guiding and commanding faculty, or the re
bellion of the obeying faculties : otherwise if our own wills were
perfect, and the rebellion ofthe inferior faculties cured, no man
could then say, " The good that I would, I do not, and the evil
Vol. I. 52

410 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
that I would not, that I do.' For the will would so fully command,
that all would obey, and itselfbeing perfect, all would be perfect.
And therefore in heaven it is and will be so.
I know philosophers conclude, that all acts of the inferior facul
ties are but acts commanded by the will ; it should be so I confess.
It is the office of the will to command, and the understanding to
direct, and tbe rest to obey. But in our state of sinful imperfec
tion, the soul is so distempered and corrupted, that the will cannot
fully rule those faculties that it should rule ; so that it may be said,
' I would forbear sin, but cannot.' For, 1 . The understanding is
become a dark, imperfect director. 2. The will is become an
imperfect receiver of the understanding's directions ; yea, an op-
poser, as being tainted with the neighborhood of a distempered
sense. 3. When the will is rectified by grace, it is but in part ;
and therefore when Paul, or any holy man saith, ' I would do
good,' and ' I would not do evil,' they mean it not of a perfect
willingness, but of a sincere ; to wit, that this is the main bent of
their will, and the resolved prevalent act of it is for good. 4.
When the will doth command, yet the commanded faculties do re
fuse to obey, through an unfitness of impotency and corruption.
1 . The will hath but an imperfect command of tbe understanding.
(I mean as to the exercise of the act, in which respect it command
eth it, and not as to the specification of the act.) A man may tru
ly and strongly desire to know more, and apprehend things more
clearly, and yet cannot. 2. The will hath but an imperfect com
mand of tbe fancy or thoughts ; so that a man may truly say, ' I
would think more frequently, more intensely, and more orderly of
good, and less of vanity, and yet I cannot.' For objects and pas
sions may force the fancy and cogitations in some degree. 3. The
will hath but an imperfect command of the passions ; so that a
man may truly say, ' I would not be troubled, or afraid, or grieved,
or disquieted, or angry, but I cannot choose, and I would mourn
more for sin, and be more afraid of sinning, and of God's displea
sure, and more zealous for God, and more delighted in him, and
joy more in holy things, but I cannot.' For these passions lie so
open to the assault of objects, (having the senses for their inlet,
and the moveable spirits for their seat or instruments) that even

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 4ll
when the will commands them one way, an object may force them
in part against the will's command, as we find sensibly in cases of
fear, and sorrow oi anger, which we can force a man to whether
he will or no. And if there be no contradicting object, yet cannot
the will excite these passions to what height it shall command; for
their motion depends as much (and more) on the lively manner of
representing the object, and the working nature and weight of the
object represented, and upon the heat and mobility of the spirits,
and temparature of the body, as upon the command of the will.
4. Much less can the will command out all vicious habits, and sen
sual or corrupt inclinations ; and therefore a true Christian may well
say in respect of these, that he would be more holy, heavenly, and
disposed to good, and less to evil, but he cannot. 5. As for com
placency and displaceney, liking or disliking, love and hatred, so
far as they are passions, I have spoke of them before : but so far
as they are the immediate acts of the will (willing and nilling) they
are not properly said to be commanded by it, but elicited, or acted
by it ; (wherein, how far it hath power is a most noble question,
but unfit for this place or your capacity.) And thus you see that
there are many acts of the soul, beside habits, which the will can
not now perfectly command, and so a Christian cannot be what he
would be, nor do tbe things that he would. And these are the first
sort of sins of infirmity.
If you say, ' Sure these can be no sins, because we are not wil
ling of them, and there is no more sin than there is will in it ;' I
answer, 1. We were in Adam willing of that sin which caused
them. 2. We are in some degree inclining in our wills to sin,
though God have that prevalent part and determination, which in
comparative cases doth denominate them. 3. The understanding
and will may be most heinously guilty where they do not consent,
in that they do not more strongly dissent, and more potently and
rulingly command all the subject faculties ; and so a negation of
the will's act, or of such a degree of it as is necessary to the regi
ment of the sensual part, is a deep guilt and great offence ; and it
may be said, that there is will in this sin. It is morally or reputa-
tively voluntary, though not naturally ; because the will doth not
its office when it should : as a man is guilty of voluntary murder

4^2 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
of his own child, that stands by and seeth his servant kill him, and
doth not. do his best to hinder'hira. I would diis were better un
derstood by some divines ; for I think that the commonest guilt of
the reason and will in our actual sins, is by omission of the exercise
of their authority to hinder it ; and that most sins are more brutish,
as to the true efficient cause, than many imagine ; and yet they
are human or moral acts too, and the soul nevertheless guilty ;
because the commanding faculties performed not their office, and
so are the moral or imputative causes, and so the great culpable
causes of the fact. But I am drawn nearer to philosophy and
points beyond your reach than I intended ; a fault that I must be
still resisting in all my writings, being upon every occurring diffi
culty carried to forget my subject, aud the capacity of the mean
est to whom I write : but what you understand not, pass over, and
go to the next.
2. The second kind of sins of infirmity', are, The smaller sort of
sins, which we may forbear if we will ; that is, If we be actually,
though not perfectly, yet prevalently willing ; or if our will be de
termined to forbear them ; or if the chief part of the will actually
be for such forbearance. The first sort are called sins of infirmi
ty in aa absolute sense. These last, I call sins of infirmity in both
an absolute and comparative sense : that is, both as they proceed
from our inward corruption, which through the weakness of the
soul having but little grace, is not fully restrained, and also as they are
compared with gross sins : and so we may call idle words, and rash
expressions in our haste, and such like, sins of infirmity, in com
parison of murder, perjury, or the like gross sins, which we com
monly call crimes or wickedness, when the former we use to call
but faults. These infirmities are they which the Papists (and some
learned divines of our own, as Rob. Baronius in his excellent trac
tate " De peccat. Mortali et Veniali,") do call venial sins ; some
of them in a fair and honest sense, viz. Because they are such
sins as a true Christian may live and die in, though not unre-
pented or amresisted, yet not subdued so far as to forsake or cease
from the practice of them, and yet they are pardoned. But other
Papists call them venial sins in a wicked sense, as if they needed
ri% pardon, and deserved not eternal punishment. (And why

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. !13
should they call them venial if they need not pardon ?) A justified
man liveth in -the daily practice of some vain thoughts, or the fre
quent commission of some other sins, which by his utmost dili
gence he might restrain ; but he liveth not in the frequent practice
of adultery, drunkenness, falsewitnessing, slandering, hating his
brother, &ic.
Yet observe, that though the forementioned lesser sins are call
ed infirmities, in regard ofthe matter of them, yet they may be so
committed in regard ofthe end and manner of them, as may make
them crimes or gross sins. As for example, if one should use idle
words wilfully, resolvedly, without restraint, reluctance or tender
ness of conscience, this were gross sinning ; or the nearer it comes
to this, and the more wilfulness, or neglect, or evil ends there is in
the smallest forbidden action, the worse it is, and the grosser.
And observe (of which more anon) that the true bounds or differ
ence between gross sins, and those lesser faults, which we call in
firmities, cannot be given ; (I think by any man, I am sure not by
me,) either as to the act itself, to say, just what acts are gross
sins, and what not ; or else as to the manner of committing them ;
as to say, just how much of the will must go to make a gross sin ;
or just how far a man may proceed in the degree of evil intents ;
or how far in the frequency of sinning, before it must be called a
gross sin.
3. The third sort of sins, which may be called sins of infirmity,
are these last mentioned gross sins themselves, so far as they are
found in the regenerate : these are gross sins put in opposition to
to the former sort of infirmities ; but our divines use to call them all
sins of infirmity, in opposition to the sins of unbelievers, who are
utterly unholy. And they call them sins of infirmity, 1. Because
the person that committeth them is not dead in sins, as the unre-
generate are, but only diseased, wounded and infirm. 2. Because
that they are not committed with so full consent of will, as those of
the unregenerate are ; but only after much striving, or at least con
trary to habitual resolutions, though not against actual.
Here we are in very great difficulties, and full of controversies :
some say that these gross sins do extinguish true grace, and are iiljtt
consistent with it : and that David and Peter were out of the state

414 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
of grace till they did again repent. Others say, that they were in
the state of grace, and not at all so liable to condemnation, but that
if they had died in the act, they had been saved, because "there
is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus;" and that
therefore all the sins of believers are alike sins of infirmity, pardon
ed on the same terms : and therefore as a rash word may be par
doned without a particular repentance, so possibly may these gross
sins. To others this seems dangerous and contrary to Scripture,
and therefore they would fain find Out a way between both ; but
how to do it clearly and satisfactorily is not easy (at least to me,
who have been long upon it, but am yet much in the dark in it.)
I think it is plain that such persons are not totally unsanctified by
their sin ; I believe that Christ's interest is habitually more in their
wills than is the interest of the flesh or world, at that very time
when they are sinning, and so Christ's interest is least as to their
actual willing ; and so sin prevaileth for that time against the act of
their faith and love, but not wholly against the prevalent part of the
habit. And therefore when the shaking wind of that stormy temp
tation is over, the soul will return to Christ by repentance, love and
renewed obedience. But then to know what state he is relatively in,
this while, as to his justification, and reconciliation, and right to
glory, is the point of exceeding difficulty. Whether as we distin
guish of habitual faith, and love, and obedience, which he hath not
lost ; and actual, which he hath lost ; so we must make some an
swerable distinction of justification (habitual and actual it cannot be)
into virtual justification which he hath not lost, and actual justifica
tion which he hath lost : or into plenary justification (which he hath
not) and imperfect justification, wanting a further act to make it
plenary (which may remain.) But still it will be more difficult to
shew punctually what this imperfect or virtual justification is : and
most difficult to shew, whether with the loss of actual plenary justi
fication, and the loss of a plenary right to heaven, a man's salva
tion may consist ; that is, whether if he should die in that condi
tion, he should be saved or condemned ? Or if it be said, that he
shall certainly repent, 1. Yet such a supposition may be put, while
lgfcyet repenteth not ; for the inquiry into his state, how far there
is any intercession of his justification, pardon, adoption or right to

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 415
salvation? 2. And whedier it can fully be proved that it is impos
sible (or that which never was or shall be) for a regenerate man to
die in the very act of a gross sin (as self-murder or the like?) For
my part I think God hath purposely left us here in the dark, that we
may not be too bold in sinning, but may know that whether the
gross sins of believers be such as destroy their justification and
the right to glory, prevalently or not, yet certainly they leave them
in the dark, as to any certainty of their justification or salvation.
And then more dark is it and impossible to discover, how far a
man may go in these grosser sins, and yet have the prevalent hab
its of grace. As to the former question about the intercession of
justification, I am somewhat inclinable to think, that the habit of
faith hath more to do in our justification than I have formerly
thought, and may as properly be said to be the condition -as the
act : and that as long as a man is (in a prevalent degree) habitually
a believer, he is not only imperfectly' and virtually justified, but so
far actually justified, that he should be saved, though he were cutoff
before he actually repent : and that he being already habitually pen
itent, having a hatred of all sin as sin, should be saved if mere want
of opportunity do the act : and that only those sins do prevent bring
a man into a state of condemnation, prove him in such, which consist
not with the habitual preeminence of Christ's interest in our souls,
above the interest of the flesh and world : and that David's and Pe
ter's were such as did consist with the preeminence of Christ's inter
est in the habit. But withal, that such gross sins must needs be ob
servable, and so the soul that is guilty doth ordinarily know its
guilt, yea, and think of it : and that it is inconsistent with this ha
bitual repentance, not to repent actually as soon as time is afford
ed, and the violence of passion is so far allayed, as that the soul
may recollect itself, and reason have its free use : and that he that
hath this leisure and opportunity for tbe free use of reason, and
yet doth not repent, it is a sign that the interest of the flesh is ha
bitually as well as actually stronger than Christ's interest in him.
I say, in this doubtful case, I am most inclining to judge thus : but
as I would have no man take this as my resolved judgment, much
. less a certain truth, and least of all, to venture on sin and impenjj^
tency ever the more for such a doubtful opinion, which cloth not

416 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
conclude him to be certainly unjustified ; so I am utterly ignorant
both how long sensual passions may possibly rage, and keep the
soul from sober consideration : or how far they may interpose in
the very time of consideration, and frustrate it, and prevail against
it. and so keep the sinner from actual repenting, or at least, from a
full ingenuous acknowldgement and bewailing of the sin, which is
necessary to full repentance ; and how long repentance may be so
far stifled, as to remain only in some inward grudgings of con
science, and trouble of mind, hindered from breaking out into free
confession (which seemeth to have been David's case long.) Nay,
it is impossible to know just how long a man may live in the very
practice of such gross sin, before Christ's habitual interest above .
the flesh be either overthrown, or proved not to be there ; and how
oft a man that hath true grace may commit such sins : these things
are undiscernible, besides that none can punctually define a gross
sin, so as to exclude every degree of infirmities, and include every
degree of such gross sin.
Perhaps you will marvel why I run so far in this point : it is both
to give you as much light as I can, what sins they be which are to
be called infirmities, and so what sins they be that do forbid that
gentle, comforting way of cure, when the soul is troubled for them,
which must be used with those that are troubled more than needs,
or upon mistakes ; and also to convince you of this weighty truth,
That our comfort, yea, and assurance, hath a great dependance on
our actual obedience : yea, so great, that the least obedient sort of
sincere Christians cannot by ordinary means have any assurance :
and the most obedient (if other necessaries concur) will have the
most assurance : and for the middle sort, their assurance will rise
or fall, ordinarily with their obedience, so that there is no way to
comfort such offending Christians, but by reducing them to fuller
obedience by faith and repentance, that so the evidences of their
justification may be clear, and the great impediments of their as
surance and comfort be removed.
This I will yet make clearer to you by its reasons, and then tell
you how to apply it to yourself.
a 1. No man can be sure of his salvation or justification, but he
that is sure of his true faith and love. And no man can be sure

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 4[7
of his true faith and love, but he that is sure of the sincerity of his
obedience. For true faith doth ever take God for our great Sove
reign, and Christ for our Lord Redeemer, and containeth a cove
nant-delivery of a man's self to God and the Redeemer, to be ru
led by him, as a subject, child, servant and spouse. This is not
done sincerely and savingly, unless there be an actual and habitual
resolution to obey God and the Redeemer, before all creatures,
and against all temptations that would draw us from him. To obey
Christ a little and the flesh more, is no true obedience : if the flesh
can do more with us to draw us to sin, than faith and obedience do
fo keep us from sin, ordinarily, this is no true faith or obedience.
If Christ have not the sovereignty in the soul, and his interest be
not the most predominant and potent, we are no true believers.
Now it is plain, that the interest of the world and flesh doth actu
ally prevail, when a man is actually committing a known sin, and
omitting a known duty ; and then it is certain that habits are known
but by the acts. And therefore it must needs be that the soul that
most sinneth, must needs be most in doubt whether the interest of
Christ or the flesh be predominant, and so whether his obedience
be true or no ; and so whether he did sincerely take Christ for his
Sovereign : and that is, whether he be a true believer ; for when
a man is inquiring into the state of his soul, whether he do subject
himself to Christ as his only Sovereign ; and whether the author
ity and love of Christ will do more with him than the temptations
of the world, flesh and devil : he hath no way to be resolved but
by feeling the pulse of his own will. And if he say, ' I am willing
to obey Christ before tbe flesh,' and yet do actually live in an obe
dience to the flesh before Christ, he is deceived in his own will ;
for this is no saving willingness. A wicked man may have some
will to obey Christ principally ; but having more will to the contra
ry, viz. to please the flesh before Christ, therefore he is wicked still ;
so that you see in our self-examination, the business is for the
most part finally resolved into our sincere actual obedience. For
thus we proceed : we first find, He that believeth and loveth Christ
sincerely, shall be saved. Then we proceed, He that believeth
sincerely taketh Christ for his Sovereign. Then, He that truly ,.ta-
keth Christ for his Sovereign, doth truly resolve to obey him and
Vol. I. 53

418 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPINC
his laws, before the world, flesh or devil. Then, He that truly re
solved! thus to obey Christ before all, doth sincerely perform his
resolution, and doth so obey bim. For that is no true reso
lution ordinarily, that never comes to performance. And here
we are cast unavoidably to try whether we do perform our resolu
tions by actual obedience, before we can sit down with settled
peace ; much more before we get assurance. Now those that are
diligent and careful in obeying, and have greatest conquest over
their corruptions, and -do most seldom yield to temptations, but do
most notably and frequently conquer them, these have the clearest
discovery of the performance of their resolutions by obedience,
and consequently the fullest assurance : but they that are oftenest
overcome by temptations, and yield most to sin, and live most diso
bediently, must needs be furthest from assurance of the sincerity of
their obedience, and consequently of their salvation.
2. God himself hath plainly made our actual obedience, not on
ly a sign of a true faith, but a secondary part of the condition of
our salvation, as promised in the new covenant. And therefore it
is as impossible to be saved without it, as without faith, supposing
that the person have opportunity to obey, in which case only it is
made necessary, as a condition. This I will but cite several Scrip
tures to prove, and leave you to peruse them if you be unsatisfied ;
Rom. viii. 1 — 14. They that are in Christ Jesus, are they that
walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. " If ye live after the
flesh ye shall die, but if ye by the Spirit do mortify the deeds of
the body ye shall live." " Blessed are they that do his command
ments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter
in by the gate into the city ;" Rev. xxii. 14. " He is become the
author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him ;" Heb. v. 9.
- " Take my yoke upon you, for it is easy, and my burden, for it is
light. Learn of me to be meek and lowly, &c. and ye shall find
rest," &c. ; Matt. xi. 28—30. John xvi. 27. Luke xiii. 24.
Phil. ii. 12. Rom. ii. 7. 10. John xv. 12. 17. xii 21. Matt.
v. 44. Luke vi. 27. 35. Prov. viii. 17. 21. Matt. x. 37. 1
Tim. vi. 18, 19. 2 Tim. ii. 5. 12. Matt. xxv. 41, 42. James
ii. 21—24. 26. i. 22. ii. 5. Prov. i. 23. xxviii. 13. Luke
xiii. 3. 5. Matt. xii. 37. xi. 25, 26. vi. 12. 14, 15. 1 John
i. 9. Acts viii. 22. iii. 19. xxii. 16. Luke vi. 37. 1 Pet.

SPIRITUAL PEACE, AND COMFORT. 419
iv. 18. i. 2. 22. Rom. vi. 16. ; with abundance more the like.
Now- when a poor sinner that hath oft fallen into drunkenness,
railing, strife, envying, &tc. shall read that these are the works of
the flesh, and that for these things' sake the wrath of God cometh
on the children of disobedience ; and diat every man shall be judg
ed according to his works, and according to what he hath done
in the flesh ; and that they that do such things shall not inherit the
kingdom of God ; it cannot be but that his assurance of salvation
must needs have so great a dependance on his obedience, as that
these sins will diminish it. When he reads Rom. vi. 16., " Hie
servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of
obedience unto righteousness," he must needs think, how such a
time, and such a time, he obeyed sin ; and the oftener and the more
wilfully he did it, the more doubtful will his case be ; especially if
he be yet in a sinful course, which he might avoid, whether of
gross sin, or of any wilful sin, it cannot be but this will obscure the
evidence of his obedience. Men cannot judge beyond evidence ;
and he that hath not the evidence of his true obedience, hath not
the evidence of the sincerity of his faith.
3. Moreover, assurance and comfort are God's gifts, and without
his gracious aid we cannot attain them. But God will not give
such gifts to his children, while they stand out in disobedience, but
when they carefully please him. Paternal justice requires this.
4. And it would do them abundance of hurt, and God much dis
honor, if he should either tell them just how oft, or how far they
may sin, and yet be saved ; or yet should keep up their peace and
comforts, as well in their greatest disobedience, as in their tenderest
careful walking with him. But these things I spoke of before, and
formerly elsewhere.
You see then, that though some obedient, tender Christians
may yet on several occasions be deprived of assurance ; yet ordi
narily no other but they have assurance ; and that assurance and
comfort will rise and fall with obedience.
And for all the Antinomian objections against this, as if it were a
leading men to their own righteousness from Christ, I refer j ou to
the twenty arguments which I before laid you down, to prove that
we may and must fetch our assurance and comfort from our own

420 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
works and graces ; and so from our own evangelical righteousness,
which is subordinate to Christ's righteousness, (which he speaks of,
Matt. xxv. last, and in forty places more) though we must have no
thoughts of a legal righteousness (according to the law of works or
ceremonies) in ourselves. They may as well say, that a woman
doth forsake her husband, because she comforteth herself in this,
that she hath not forsaken him, or been false and unchaste, thence
gathering that he will not give her a bill of divorce. Or that a ser
vant forsakes his master, or a subject his prince, or a parent is for
saken by his child ; because they comfort themselves in their obe
dience and loyalty, gathering thence that they are not flat rebels,
and shall not be used as rebels. Or that any that enter covenant
with superiors do forsake them, because they comfort themselves
in their keeping covenant, as a sign that the covenant shall be kept
with them : all these are as wise collections, as to gather, that a
man forsakes Christ and his righteousness, and setteth up his own
instead of it, because he looks at his not forsaking, refusing and
vilifying of Christ, his love and faithful obedience to Christ, as com
fortable signs that Christ will not forsake and reject him. Do these
men think that a rebel may have the love of his prince, and~ as
much comfort from him as a loyal subject? Or a whorish woman
have as much love and comfort from her husband, as a faithful wife ?
Or a stubborn, rebellious son or servant have as much love and
comfort from their father or mother as the dutiful ? If there be so
near a relation as hitherto we have supposed, between a sovereign
and subjection to him, and a husband and marriage-faithfulness to
him, and a master and service to him, and a father and loving obe
dience to him, it is strange that men should suppose such a strange
opposition, as these men do. Certainly God doth not so, when he
saith, " If I be a father, where is mine honor ? and if I be a master
where is my fear?" Mai. i. 6. And Isaiah i. 3, 4. "Hear O
heavens, and give ear, O earth ; for the Lord hath spoken, I have
nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against
me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib but
Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider. Ah, sinful na
tion, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evil doers, children
that are corrupters, they have forsaken the Lord, they have pro-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 421
voked the Holy One of Israel to anger, they are gone away back
ward." And Jer. iii. 19. " Thou shalt call me, My;1 father, and
shalt not depart away from me." And 2 Tim. ii. 19. "The
Lord knoweth who are his. And let him that naineth the name of
Christ depart from iniquity." And Psalm lxvi. 18. " If" I delight
in iniquity, or regard it, God will not hear my prayers," saith Da
vid himself. Doubdess Paul did not forsake Christ's righteous
ness by confidence in his own, when he saith, " This is our re
joicing, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly
sincerity we have had our conversation among you ; 2 Cor. i. 12.
with many the like which I before mentioned. Nor doth the Lord
Jesus at the day of Judgment turn men off fram his righteousness,
when he saith, " Well done, good aud faithful servant, because
thou hast been faidiful in a very little, I will make thee ruler over
much ;" Luke xix. 17. Matt. xxv. 23. and calls them thereupon
righteous, saying, " And die righteous shall go into life everlasting ;"
Matt. xxv. last.
It remains now that I further acquaint you what use you should
make of this observation, concerning the dependance of assurance
upon actual obedience. And first, I advise you, if your soul remain
in doubts and troubles, and you cannot enjoy God in any way of
peace and comfort, nor see any clear evidence of the sincerity of
your faith, take a serious view of your obedience, and faithfully
survey your heart and life, and your daily carriage to God in both.
See whether there be nothing that provokes God to an unusual
jealousy ; if there be, it is only the increase of some carnal interest
in your heart, or else the wilful or negligent falling into some actual
sin, of commission or of omission. In the making of this search,
you have need to be exceeding cautious ; for if I have any ac
quaintance with the mystery of this business, your peace or trouble,
comfort or discomfort, will mainly depend on this. And your care
must lie in this point, that you diligently avoid these two extremes :
first, That you do not deal negligently or unfaithfully with your
own soul, as either unwilling to know the truth, or unwilling to
be at that labor which you must needs be at before you can
know it. Secondly, That you do not either condemn yourself
when your conscience doth acquit you ; or vex your soul with need
less scruples, or make unavoidable or ordinary infirmities to seem

422

DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

such wilful heinous sins, as should quite break your settled
peace. O how narrow is the path between these two mistaken
roads, and how hard a thing, and how rare is it to find it and to
keep it ! For yourself, and all tender-conscienced Christians, that
are heartily willing to be ruled by Christ, I would persuade you
equally to beware of both these ; because some souls are as in
clinable to the latter extreme as to the former (during their troubles.)
But for the most Christians in the world, I would have them first
aud principally avoid the former, and that with far greater diligence
than the latter. For, 1 . Naturally all men's hearts are far more
prone to deal too remissly, yea, unfaithfully with themselves, in
searching after their sins, than too scrupulously and tenderly. The
best men have so much pride and carnal self-love, that it will
strongly incline them to excuse, or mince, or hide their sins, and to
think far lighter and more favorably of it than they should do, be
cause it is theirs. How was the case altered with Judah towards
Thamar, when he once saw it was his own act! How was David's
zeal for justice allayed, as soon as he heard, " Thou art tbe man !"
This is the most common cause why God is fain to hold our eyes
on our transgressions by force, because we are so loath to do it more
voluntarily ; and why he openeth our sin in such crimson and scar
let colors to us ; because we are so apt either to look on them as
nothing, or to shut our eyes and overlook them : and why God
doth hold us so long on the rack, because we would still ease our
selves by ingenious excuses and extenuations : and why God doth
break the skin so oft, and keep open our wounds ; because we are
still healing them by such carnal shifts. This proud, sin-excusing
distemper needs no other proof or discovery, than our great tender
ness and backwardness in submitting to reproofs : how long do we
excuse sin, and defend our pretended innocency, as long as we can
find a word to say for it. Doth not daily experience of this sad
distemper, even in most ofthe godly, discover fully to us, that most
men (yea naturally all) are far more prone to overlook their sins,
and deal faithlessly and negligently in the trial ; than to be too
tender, and to charge themselves too deeply.
Besides, if a Christian be heartily willing to deal impartially,
and search to the quick, yet the heart is lamentably deceitful, that

SPIRITUAL PLACE AND COMFORT. 'Il'j
he shall overlook much evil in it, when he hath done his best.
And the devil will be far more industrious to provoke and help you
to hide, excuse, and extenuate sin, than to open it, and see it as
it is. His endeavor to drive poor souls into terrors, is usually but
when he can no longer keep them in presumption. When he can
hide their sin no longer, nor make it seem small, to keep them in
impenitency, then he will make it seem unpardonable and remedi
less if he can ; but usually not before. So that you see the frame
of most men's spirits doth require them, to be rather over-jealous
in searching after their sins, than over-careless and confident of
themselves. 2. Besides this, I had rather of the two that Christians would
suspect and search too much than too little, because there is a
hundred times more danger in seeing sin less than it is, or over
looking it, than in seeing it greater than it is, and being over-fear
ful. The latter mistake may bring us into sorrow, and make our
lives uncomfortable to us (and therefore should be avoided ;) but
usually it doth not endanger our happiness ; but is often made a
great occasion of our good. But the former mistake may hazard
our everlasting salvation, and so bring us to remediless trouble.
3. Yea, lest you should say, ' This is sad language to comfort a
distressed wounded soul,' let me add this. one reason more. So
far as I can learn by reading the Scriptures, and by long experi
ence of very many souls under troubles of conscience, It is most
commonly some notable cherished corruption, that breedeth and
feedeth the sad, uncomfortable state of most professors, except
those who by melancholy or very great ignorance, are so weak in
their intellectuals, as that they are incapable of making any true
discovery of their condition, and of passing a right judgment upon
themselves thereupon.
Lest I should make sad any soul that God would not have sad,
let me desire you to observe, 1. That I say but of most professors,
not all ; for I doubt not but God may hide his face for some time
from some of the holiest and wisest of believers, for several and
great reasons. 2. Do but well observe most of the humble, obe
dient Christians, that you know to lie under any long and sad dis
tress of mind, and you will find that they are generally of one of

424 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the two forementioned sorts : either so ignorant as not to know
well what faith is, or what the conditions of the covenant are, or
what is the extent of the promise, or the full sufficiency of Chrit's
satisfaction for all sinners, or what are the evidences by which they
may try themselves : or else they are melancholy persons, whose
fancy is still molested with these perturbing vapours, and their un
derstandings so clouded and distempered, that reason is not free.
And so common is this latter, that in my observation of all the
Christians that have lived in any long and deep distress of mind,
six, if not ten for one, have been deeply melancholy ; except
those that feed their troubles by disobedience. So that besides
these ignorant and melancholy persons, and disorderly, declining
Christians, the number of wounded spirits I think is very small, in
comparison of the rest. Indeed it is usual for many at, or shortly
after, their first change, to be under trouble and keep fears; but
that is but while the sense of former sin is fresh upon their hearts.
The sudden discovery of so deep a guilt, and so great a danger,
which a man did never know before, must needs amaze and af
fright the soul : and if that fear remain long, where right means are
either not known, or not used for the cure, it is no wonder; and
sometimes it will be long, if the rightest means be used. But for
those that have been long in the profession of holiness, and yet lie,
or fall again under troubles of soul (except those before excepted,)
I would have them make a diligent search, whether God do not ob
serve either some fleshly interest encroach upon his right, or some
actual sin to be cherished in their hearts or conversations.
And here let me tell you, when you are making this search,
what particulars they be which I would have you to be most jealous
of. i. The former sort, which I call contrary carnal interest, en
croaching on Christ's right, are they that you must look after with
far more diligence than your actual sins. 1. .Because they are
the far greatest and most dangerous of all sins, and the root of all
the rest : for as God is the end and chief good of every saint, so
these sins do stand up against him, as our end and chief good, and
carry away the soul by that • act which we call simply willing, or
complacency, and so these interests are men's idols, and resist
God's very sovereignty and perfect goodness ; that is, they are

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 425
against God himself as our God. Whereas those which I now call
actual sins, as distinct from these, are but the violation of particu
lar precepts, and against God's means and laws directly, and but
remotely, or indirectly against his Godhead : and they have but
that act of our will, which we call election, consent or use, which
is proper to means, and not to the end. (2.) Because, as these
sins are the most damnable, so they lie deepest at the heart, and
are not so easily discovered. It is ordinary with many, to have a
covetous, worldly, ambitious heart, even damnably such, that yet
have wit to carry it fairly without ; yea, and seem truly religious to
themselves and others. (3.) Because these sins are the most
common : for though they reign only in hypocrites and other un-
sanctified ones, yet they dwell too much in all men on earth.
If you now ask me what these sins are, I answer, They are, as de
nominated from the point or term from which men turn, all com
prised in this one, 'unwillingness of God, or the turning of the heart
from God, or not loving God.' But as we denominate them from
the term or object to which they run, they are all comprised in
tbisone. ' carnal self-love, or turning to, and preferring our carnal self
before God :' and as it inclineth to action, all, or most of it, is com
prehended in this one word, 'Fleshpleasing.' But because there
are a trinity of sins in this unity, we must consider them distinctly.
Three great objects there are, about which this sin of fleshpleas
ing is exercised : 1. Credit or honor. 2. Profit or riches. 3.
Sensual pleasure, more strictly so called, consisting in the more
immediate pleasing of the senses ; whereas the two first do more
remotely please them, by laying in provision to that end ; other
wise all three are in the general but fleshpleasing. The three
great sins therefore that do most directly fight against God himself
in his sovereignty, are, 1. Pride or ambition. 2. Worldliness, or
love of riches. 3. Sensuality, voluptuousness, or inordinate love
of pleasures. There are in the understanding indeed other sins, as
directly against God as these, and more radical : as, 1 . Atheism,
denying a God. 2. Polytheism, denying our God to be the alone
God, and joining others with him. 3. Idolatry, owning false Gods.
4. Infidelity, denying Jesus Christ our Lord Redeemer. 5. Own
ing false Saviors and prophets, in his stead, or before him, as do
Vol. I. 54

426 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the Mahometans. 6. Joining other Redeemers and Saviors with
him, as if he were not the alone Christ. 7. Denying the Holy
Ghost, and denying credit to his holy and miraculous testimony to
the Christian faith, and blasphemously ascribing all to the devil ;
which is the sin against the Holy Ghost. S. Owning and believing
in devils, or lying spirits instead ofthe Holy Ghost ; as the Monta-
nists, Mahometans, Ranters, Familists do. 9. Owning and ad
joining devils, or lying spirits, in co-ordination or equality with the
Holy Ghost, and believing equally his doctrine and theirs ; as if
he were not sole and sufficient in his work. All these are sins di
rectly against God himself, and if prevalent, most certainly damn
ing ; three against tbe Father, three against the Son, and three
against the Holy Ghost. But these be not they that I need now to
warn you of. These are prevalent only in pagans, infidels, and
blasphemers. Your troubles and complaints shew that these are
not predominant in you. It is therefore the three forementioned
sins of the heart or will, that 1 would have you carefully to look
after in your troubles, to see whether none of them get ground and
strength in you.
1. Inquire carefully into your humility. It is not for nothing that
Christ hath said so much of the excellency and necessity of this
grace ; when he bids us learn of him to be meek and lowly ; when
he blesseth the meek and poor in spirit : when he setteth a little
child in the midst of them, and telleth them, except they become
as that child, they could not enter into the kingdom of heaven •.
when he stoopeth to wash and wipe his disciples' feet, requiring
them to do so by one another. How oft doth the Holy Ghost press
this upon us ? Commanding us to submit ourselves to one another,
and not to mind high things ; but to condescend to men of low es
tate ; Rom. xii. 16. and not to be wise in our own esteem, but in
honor prefer others before ourselves ; Rom. xii. 10. How oft
hath God professed to resist and take down the proud, and to give
grace to the humble, and dwell with them ? Search carefully,
therefore, lest this sin get ground upon you. For though it may
not be so predominant and raging as to damn you, yet may it cause
God to afflict you, and hide his face from you, and humble you
by the sense of his displeasure, and the concealment of his love.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 427
And though one would think that doubting, troubled souls should
be always the most humble and freest from pride, yet sad expe
rience hath certified me, that much pride may dwell with great
doubtings and distress of mind. Even some of the same souls that
cry out of their own unworthiness, and fear lest they shall be fire
brands of hell, yet cannot endure a close reproof, especially for
any disgraceful sin, nor bear a disparaging word, nor love those,
nor speak well of them, who do not value them, nor endure to be
crossed or contradicted in word or deed, but must have all go their
way, and follow their judgment, and say as they say, and dance
after their pipe, and their hearts rise against those that will not do
it ; much more against those that speak or do any thing to the di
minishing of their reputation : they cannot endure to be low, and
passed by, and overlooked, when others are preferred before them,
or to be slighted and disrespected, or their words, or parts, or
works, or judgments to be contemned or disparaged. Nay, some
are scarce able to live in the same house, or church, or town, in
love and peace, with any but those that will humor and please
them, and speak them fair, and give them smooth and stroking
language, and forbear crossing, reproving, and disparaging them.
Every one of these singly is an evident mark and fruit of pride ;
how much more all jointly. I seriously profess it amazeth me to
consider how heinously most professors are guilty of this sin ! even
when they know it to be the devil's own sin, and the great abomi
nation hated of God, and read and hear so much against it as they
do, and confess it so oft in their prayers to God, and yet not only
inwardly cherish it, but in words, actions, gestures, apparel, ex
press it, and passionately defend these discoveries of it. The con
fusions and distractions in church and state are nothing else but
the proper fruits of it; so are the contentions among Christians,
and the unpeaceableness in families ; " for only from pride cometh
contention," saith Solomon ; Prov. xiii. 10. For my part, when
I consider the great measure of pride, self-conceitedness, self-es
teem, that is in the greatest part of Christians that ever I was ac
quainted with, (we of the ministry not excepted,) I wonder that
God doth riot afflict us more, and bring us down by foul means,
that will not be brought down by fair. ' For my own part, I have

428 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
had as great means to help me against this sin, as most men living
ever had ; first, in many years' trouble of mind, and then in near
twenty years' languishing, and bodily pains, having been almost
twenty times at the grave's mouth, and living near it continually ;
and lastly, and above all I have had as full a sight of it in others,
even in the generality of the professors, and in the doleful state of
the church and state, and heinous, detestable abominations of this
age, which one would think should have fully cured it. And yet
if I hear but either an applauding word from any of fame on one
side, or a disparaging word on the other side, I am fain to watch
my heart as narrowly as I would do the thatch of my house when
fire is put to it, and presently to throw on it the water of detesta
tion, resolution, and recourse to God, And though the acts
through God's great mercy be thus restrained, yet the constancy of
these inclinations assures me, that there is still a strong and deep
root. I beseech you therefore, if you would ever have settled
peace and comfort, be watchful against this sin of pride, and be
sure to keep it down, and get it mortified at the very heart.
3. The next sin that I would have you be specially jealous of,
is covetousness, or love ofthe profits or riches of the world. This
is not the sin of the rich only, but also of the poor : and more hein
ous is it in them, to love the world inordinately, that have so little of
it, than in rich men,*that have more to tempt them, though danger
ous in both. Nor doth it lie only in coveting that which is another's,
or in seeking to get by unlawful means ; but also in overvaluing
and overloving the wealth of the world, though lawfully gotten.
He that loveth the world, (that is, above Christ and holiness,) the
love of the Father is not in him, (that is, savingly and sincerely ;)
1 John ii. 15. He that loveth house or lands better than Christ,
cannot be his disciple. I beseech you therefore when God hides
his face, search diligently, and search again and again, Jest the
world should encroach on Christ's interest in your heart. If it
should be so, can you wonder if Christ seem to withdraw, when you
begin to set so light by him, as to value dung and earth in any com
parison with himself? May he not well say to you, ' If you set so
muGh by the world, take it, and see what it will do for you ? If
you can spare me better than your wealth, you shall be without me.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 429
Must not the Lord Jesus needs take it exceedingly unkind, that af
ter all his love and bloodshed, and pains with your heart, and seals
of his kindness, and discoveries of his amiableness, and the treasures
of his kingdom, you should now so much forget and slight him, to
set up the world in any comparison with him ? And to give such
loving entertainment to. his enemy ? And look so kindly on a com
petitor ? Is his glory worth no more than so ? And hath he de
served no better at your hands ? Again, therefore, do I beseech
you to be afraid, lest you should be guilty of this sin. Examine
whether the thoughts of the world grow not sweeter to you, and
the thoughts of God and glory more unwelcome and unpleasing ;
whether you have not an eagerness after a fuller estate, and too
keen an edge upon your desires after riches, or at least after a
fuller portion and provision for your children : or after better ac
commodations and contentments in house, goods, or other worldly
things ? Do not worldly hopes delight you too much ? And much
more your worldly possessions ? Are you not too busily contriving
how to be richer, forgetting God's words, 1 Tim. vi. 8, 9. 17.
Doth not the world eat out the life of your duties, that when you
should be serious with God, you have left your heart behind you,
and drowned your affections in things below ? Doth not your soul
stick so fast in this mud and clay, that you can scarce stir it God-
ward in prayer or heavenly meditation ? Do not you cut short du
ties in your family and in secret, if not frequently omit them, that
so you may be again at your worldly business ? Or do you not
customarily hurry them over, because the world will not allow you
leisure to be serious, and so you have no time to deal in good ear
nest with Christ or your soul ? Do not your very speeches of Christ
and heaven grow few and strange, because the world must first be
served ? When you see your brother have need, do you not shut
up the bowels of your compassions from him ? Doth not the love
of the world make you hard to your servants, hard to those you
buy and sell with ? And doth it not encroach much on the Lord's
own day ? Look after this earthly vice in all these discoveries,
search for your enemy in each of these corners. And if you find
that this is indeed your case, you need not much wonder if Christ
and you be stranger than heretofore. If this earth get between

430 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
your heart and the sun of life, no wonder if all your comforts are in
an eclipse, seeing your light is but as the moon's, a borrowed light.
And you must be the more careful in searching after this sin, both
because it is certain that all men have too much of it, and because
it is of so dangerous a nature, that should it prevail it would destroy ;
for covetousness is idolatry, and among all -the heinous sins that the
godly have fallen into, look into the Scripture, and tell me how ma
ny of them you find charged with covetousness. And'also, because
it is a blinding, befooling sin, not only drawing old men, and those
that have no children, and rich men, that have no need to pursue
these things, as madly as others, but also hiding itself from their
eyes, that most that are guilty of it will not know it : though, alas!
if they were but willing, it were very easy to know it. But the
power of the sin doth so set to work their wits to find excuses and
fair names and titles for to cloak it, that many delude others by it,
and more delude themselves, but none' can delude God. The
case of some professors of godliness that I have known, is very
lamentable on this point, who being generally noted for a danger
ous measure of worldliness, by most that know them, could yet
never be brought to acknowledge it in themselves. Nay, by the
excellency of their outward duties aud discourse, and the strength
of their wits, (alas! ill employed,) and by their great ability of
speech, to put a fair gloss on the foulest of their actions, they have
gone on so smoothly and plausibly in their worldliness, that though
most accused them of it behind their backs, yet no man knew how
to fasten any thing on them. By which means they were hindered
from repentance and recovery.
In this sad case, though it be God's course very often to let hyp
ocrites and other enemies go on and prosper, because they have
their portion in this life, and the reckoning is to come ; yet I have
oft observed, that for God's own people, or those he means to make
his people by their recovery, God useth to cross them in their
worldly desires and designs. Perhaps he may let them thrive
awhile, and congratulate the prosperity of their flesh, but at last he
breaks in suddenly on their wealth, and scatters it abroad, or addeth
some cross to it, that embitters all to them, and then asketh them,
' Where is now your idol ?' And then they begin to see their folly.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 431
If you do dote on any thing below, to the neglecting of God, he
will make a rod for you of that very thing you dote upon, and by
it will he scourge you home to himself.
3. The third great heart-sin which I would have you jealous of,
is sensuality or voluptuousness, or pleasing the senses inordinately.
The two former are in this the more mortal sins, in that they carry
more of the understanding and will with them, and make reason it
self to be serviceable to them in their workings ; whereas sensual
ity is more in the flesh, and passion, and hath ofttimes less assist
ance of reason 01 consent of the will. Yet is the will tainted with
sensual inclinations, and both reason and will are at best guilty of
connivance, and not exercising their authority over the sensual
part. But in this sensuality is the more dangerous vice, in that it
hath so strong and inseparable a seat as our sensual appetite ; and
in that it acteth so violently and ragingly as it doth ; so that it bear-
eth down a weak opposition of reason and will, and carrieth us on
blindfold, and tronsformeth us into brutes. I will not here put tbe
question concerning the gross acting of this sin (of that anon,) but
I would have you very jealous of a sensual disposition. When a
man cannot deny his appetite what it would have ; or at least, cov
etousness can do more in restraining it than conscience ; when a
man cannot make a covenant with his eyes, but must gaze on every
alluring object ; when the flesh draws to forbidden pleasures, in
meats, drinks, apparel, recreations, lasciviousness, and all the con
siderations of reason cannot restrain it; this is a sad case, and God
may well give over such to sadness of heart. If we walk so pleas
ingly to the flesh, God will walk more displeasingly to us.
And as you should be jealous of these great heart trasgressions,
so should you be of particular, actual sins. Examine whether the
jealous eye of God see not something that much offendeth him, and
causeth your heaviness. I will not enlarge so far as to mind you
of the particular sins that you should look after, seeing it must be
all, and your obedience must be universal. Only one I will give
you a hint of. I have observed God sometimes shew himself most
displeased and angry to those Christians, who have the least ten-
derness and compassion towards the infirmities of others. He that
hath made the forgiving others a necessary condition of God's for-

432 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
giving us, will surely withdraw the sense of our forgiveness, when
we withdraw our forgiveness and compassion to men. He that
casts the unmerciful servant into hell, who takes his fellow servant
by the throat, will threaten us, and frown upon us, if we come but
near it. " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."
" He shall have judgment without mercy that sheweth no mercy ;"
James ii. 13. Study well, Rom. xiv. xv. Gal. vi. ; which the
proud, censorious, self-esteeming professors of this age have stud
ied so little, and will not understand. When we deal sourly and
churlishly with our weak brethren, and instead of winning an offend
er by love, we will vilify him, and disdain him, and say, ' How can
such a man have any grace ?' and will think and speak hardly of
those that do but cherish any hopes that he may be gracious, or
speak of him with tenderness and compassion ; No wonder if God
force the consciences of such persons to deal as churlishly and sour
ly with them, and to clamour against them, and say, ' How canst
thou have any true grace, who hast such sins as these ?' When
our Lord himself dealt away so tenderly with sinners, that it gave
occasion to the slanderous Pharisees to say, he was " a friend of
Publicans and sinners ;" (and so he was, even their greatest friend.)
And his command to us is, " We then that are strong ought to bear
the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves : let every
one of us please his neighbor for his good to edification : for even
Christ pleased not himself;" Rom. xv. 1 — 3. And Gal. vi. 1, 2.
" Brethren, if a man be overtaken with a fault, ye which are spirit
ual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness, considering thy
self, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens,
and so fulfil the law of Christ." When people can bear with al
most no infirmity in a neighbor, in a servant, or in their nearest
friends, but will make the worst of every fault, no wonder if God
make such feel their dealings with others, by his dealings with them.
Had such that love to their poorest brethren, which thinketh no
evil, and speaketh not evil, which " suffered! long and is kind, en-
vieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, behaveth not itself
unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, beareth all
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things ;"
1 Cor. xiii. 4, 5. 7. had we more of this love, which covereth a

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 433
multitude of infirmities, God would cover our infirmities the more,
and tell us of them, and trouble us for them the less.
To this sin I may add another, which is scarcely another, but
partly the same with this, and partly its immediate effect ; and that
is, unpeaceableness and unquietness with those about us ; this com
monly occasioneth God to make us as unpeaceable and unquiet in
ourselves. When people are so froward, and peevish, and troub
lesome, that few can live in peace with them, either in family or
neighborhood, except those that have little to do with them, or
those that can humor them in all things, and have an extraordinary
skill in smooth speaking, flattering or man-pleasing, so that neigh
bors, servants, children, and sometimes their own yoke-fellows,
must be gone from them, and may not abide near them, as a man
gets out from the way of a wild beast or a mad dog, or avoideth the
flames of a raging fire ; is it any wonder if God give these people
as little peace in their own spirits, as they give to others ? When
people are so hard to be pleased, that nobody about them or near
them can tell how to fit their humors ; neighbors cannot please
them, servants cannot please them, husband or wife cannot please
each other ; every word is spoken amiss, and every thing done
amiss to them ; what wonder if God seem hard to be pleased, and
as frequently offended with them ? Especially if their unpeacea
bleness trouble the church, and in their turbulency and self-con-
ceitedness, they break the peace thereof.
Thus I have told you what sins you must look after when you
find your peace broken, and your conscience disquieted ; search
carefully lest some iniquity lie at the root. Some I know will
think that it is an unseasonable discourse to a troubled conscience,
to mind them so much of their sins, which they are apt to look at
too much already. But to such I answer, either those sins are
mortified and forsaken, or not. If they be, then these are not the
persons that I speak of, whose trouble is fed by continued sin ; but
I shall speak more to them anon. If not, then it seems for all their
trouble of conscience, sin is not sufficiently laid to heart yet.
The chiefest thing therefore that I intend in all this discourse, is
this following advice to those that upon search do find themselves
guilty in any of these cases. ' As ever you would have peace of
Vol. I. 55

434 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
conscience, set yourselves presently against your sins. And do not
either mistakingly cry out of one sore, when it is another that is
your malady ; nor yet spend your days in fears and disquietness
of mind, and fruidess complainings, and in the mean time continue
in wilful sinning. But resist sin more, and torment your minds
less ; and break off your sin and your terrors together.'
In these words I tell you what must be done for your cure ; and
I warn you of two sore mistakes of many sad Christians hereabout.
The cure lieth in breaking off sin, to the utmost of your power.
This is the Achan that disquieteth all. It is God's great mercy that
he disquieteth you in sinning, and gives you not over to so deep a
slumber and peace in sin, as might hinder your repentance and re
formation. The dangerous mistakes here are these two.
1. Some do as the lapwing, cry loudest when they are furthest
from the nest, and complain of an aching tooth, when the disease is
in the head or heart. They cry out, ' O I have such wandering
thoughts in prayer, and such a bad memory, and so hard a heart,
that I cannot weep for sin, or such doubts and fears, and so little
sense of the love of God, that I doubt I have no true grace.'
When they should rather say, ' I have so proud a heart, that God
is fain by these sad means to humble me. I am so high in mine
own eyes, so wise in my own conceit, and so tender of my own es
teem and credit, that God is fain to make me base in my own eyes,
and to abhor myself. I am so worldly and in love with earth, that
it draws away my thoughts from God, dulls my love, and spoils all
my duties. I am so sensual, that I venture sooner to displease my
God than my flesh; I have so little compassion on the infirmities of
my neighbors and servants and other brethren, and deal so censo
riously, churlishly, and unmercifully with them, that God is fain to
hide his mercy from me, and speak to me as in anger, and vex me
as in sore displeasure. I am so froward, peevish, quarrelsome, un-
peaceable, and hard to be pleased, that it is no wonder if I have no
peace with God, or in my own conscience; and if I have so little
quietness who love and seek it no more.' Many have more reason,
I say, to turn their complaints into this tune.
2. Another most common, unhappy miscarriage of sad Chris
tians lieth here, That they will rather continue complaining and

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 435
self-tormenting, than give over sinning, so far as they might give
it over if they would. I beseech you in the name of God, to know
and consider what it is that God requireth of you. He doth not
desire your vexation but reformation. No further doth he desire
the trouble of your mind, than as it tendeth to the avoiding of that
sin which is the cause of it. God would have you less in your fears
and troubles, and more in your obedience. Obey more, and dis
quiet your minds less. Will you take this counsel presently, and
see whether it will not do you more good than all the complaints
and doubtings of your whole life have done. Set yourself with all
your might against your pride, worldliness, and sensuality, your
unpeaceableness and want of love and tenderness to your brethren ;
and whatever other sin your conscience is acquainted with. I pray
you tell me, if you had gravel in your shoe, in your travel, would
it not be more wisdom, to sit down and take off your shoe, and cast
it out, than to stand still, or go complaining, and tell every one
you meet of your soreness ? If you have a thorn in your foot, will
you go on halting and lamenting ? or will you pull it out ? Truly
sin is- the thorn in your conscience ; and those that would not have
such troubled consciences told of their sins for fear of increasing
their distress, are unskilful comforters, and will continue the trou
ble while the thorn is in. As ever you would have peace then,
resolve against sin to the utmost of your power. Never excuse it,
or cherish it, or favor it more. Confess it freely. Thank those
that reprove you for it. Desire those about you to watch over you,
and to tell you of it, though it be not evident. And if you do not
see so much pride, worldliness, unpeaceableness, or other sins in
yourself, as your friends think they see in you, yet let their judg
ment make you jealous of your heart, seeing self-love doth oft so
blind us that we cannot see that evil in ourselves which others see
in us ; nay, which all the town may take notice of. And be sure
to engage your friends that they shall not smooth over your faults,
or mince them, and tell you of them in extenuating language, which
may hinder conviction and repentance, much less silence them, for
fear of displeasing you ; but that they will deal freely and faithful
ly with you. And see that you distaste them not, and discounte
nance not their plain dealing, lest you discourage them, and de-

436* DIRECTIONS FOR SETTING AND KEEPING
prive your soul of so great a benefit. Think best of those as your
greatest friends, who are least friends to your sin, and do most
for your recovery from it. If you say, ' Alas, I am not able to
mortify my sins. It is not in my power,' I answer, 1 . 1 speak not
of a perfect conquest ; nor of a freedom from every passion or in
firmity. 2. Take heed of pretending disability when it is unwil
lingness. If you were heartily willing, you would be able to do
much, and God would strengthen you. Cannot you resist pride,
worldliness, and sensuality, if you be willing? Cannot you for
bear most of the actual sins you commit, and perform the duties
that you omit, if you be willing ? (though not so well as you would
perform them.) Yea, let me say thus much, lest I endanger you
by sparing you. Many a miserable hypocrite doth live in trouble
of mind and complaining, and after all perish for their wilful
disobedience. Did not the rich young man go far before he would
break off with Christ ? And when he did leave him, he went away
sorrowful. And what was the cause of his sorrow ? Why, the
matter was, that he could not be saved without selling all, and
giving it to the poor, when he had great possessions. It was not
that he could not be rid of his sin, but that he could not have
Christ and heaven without forsaking the world. This is the case
of unsanctified persons that are enlightened to see the need of
Christ, but are not weaned from worldly profits, honors and plea
sures ; they are perhaps troubled in mind (and I cannot blame
them,) but it is not that they cannot leave sinning, but that they
cannot have heaven without leaving their delights and contentments
on earth. Sin as sin they would willingly leave ; for no man can
love evil as evil. But their fleshly profits, honors, and pleasures
they will not leave, and there is the stop ; and this is tbe cause of
their sorrows and fears. For their own judgment cries out against
them, " He that loveth the world, the love of the Father is not in
him. If ye live after the flesh ye shall die. God resisteth the
proud." This is the voice of their informed understandings. And
conscience seconds it, and saith, " Thou art the man." But the
flesh cries louder than both these, ' Wilt thou leave thy pleasures ?
Wilt thou undo thyself ? Wilt thou be made a scorn or laughing
stock to all ?' Or rather it strongly draws and provokelh, when it

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT, 437
hath nothing to say. No wonder if this poor sinner be here in a
strait, and live in distress of mind. But as long as the flesh holds
so fast, that all this conviction and trouble will not cause it to lose
its hold, the poor soul is still in the bonds of iniquity. The case
of such an hypocrite, or half Christian, is like the case of the poor
Papist, that having glutted himself with flesh in the Lent, was in
this strait, that either he must vomit it up, and so disclose his fault,
and undergo penance ; or else he must be sick of his surfeit, and
hazard his life. But he resolveth rcther to venture on the danger,
than to bear die penance. Or their case is like that of a proud wo
man, that hath got a strait garment, or pinching shoe, and because
she will not be out of the fashion, she will rather choose to bear
the pain, though she bait or suffer at every step. Or like the more
impudent sort of them, who will endure the cold, and perhaps
hazard their lives, by the nakedness of their necks, and breasts,
and arms, rather than they will control their shameless pride. What
cure now should a wise man wish to such people as these ? Surely,
that the shoe might pinch a little harder, till the pain might force
them to cast it off. And that they might catch some cold that
would pay them for their folly (so it would but spare their lives,)
till it should force them to be ashamed of their pride, and cover
their nakedness. Even so when disobedient hypocrites do com
plain that they are afraid they have no grace, and afraid God doth
not pardon them, and will not save them, I should tell them, if I
knew them, that I am afraid so too ; and that it is not without cause,
and desire, that their fears were such as might affright them from
their disobedience, and force them to cast away their wilful sin
ning. I have said the more on this point, because I know if this
advice do but help you to mortify your sin, the best and greatest
work is done, whether you get assurance and comfort or no ; and
withal, that it is the most probable means to this assurance and
comfort. I should next have warned you of the other extreme, viz. need
less scruples ; but I mean to make that a peculiar Direction by it
self, when jl have first added a little more of this great means of
peace — a sound obedience.
Direct. XXIV. My next advice for the obtaining of a settled

438 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
peace of com fort, is this, ' Take heed that you content not your
self with a cheap course of religion, and such a serving of God, as
costeth you little or nothing. But in your abstaining from sin, in
your rising out of sin, and in your discharge of duty, incline most
to that way which is most self-denying, and displeasing to the flesh,
(so you be sure it be a lawful way.) And when you are called
out to any work which will stand you in extraordinary labor and
cost, you must be so far from shrinking and drawing your neck
out of the yoke, that you must look upon it as a special price that
is put into your hand, and singular advantage and opportunity for
the increase of your comforts.'
This rule is like the rest ofthe Christian doctrine, which is not
thoroughly understood by any way but experience. Libertines and
sensual professors that never tried it, did never well understand it.
I could find in my heart to be large in explaining and applying it,
but that I have been so large beyond my first intentions in the for
mer Directions, that I will cut off the rest as short as I well can.
Let none be so wickedly injurious to me, as to say, I speak or
think of any merit, properly so called, in any the costliest work
of man. Fasten not that on me, which I both disclaim, and de
sire the reader to take heed of. But I must tell you these two
things. 1. That a cheap religion is far more uncertain evidence of sin
cerity, than a dear. It will not discover so well to a man's soul,
whether he prefer Christ before the world, and whether he take
him and his benefits for his portion and treasure.
2. That a cheap religion is not usually accompanied with any
notable degree of comforts, although the person be a sincere-heart
ed Christian.
Every hypocrite can submit to a religion that will cost him little ;
much more, which will get reputation with men of greatest wisdom
and piety ; yea, he may stick to it, so it will not undo him in the
world. If a man have knowledge, and gifts of utterance, and
strength of body, it is no costly matter to speak many good words,
or to be earnest in opposing the sins of others, and to preach zeal
ously and frequently, (much more if he have double honor by it,
reverent obedience, and maintenance, as ministers of the Gos-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 439
pel have, or ought to have.) It is hard to discern sincerity in such
a course of piety and duty. Woe to those persecutors that shall
put us to the trial how far we can go in suffering for Christ ; but
it should be a matter of rejoicing to us, when we are put upon it.
To be patient in tribulation is not enough ; but to rejoice in it is also
the duty of a saint. Let those that think this draweth men to re
joice too much in themselves, but hear what the Lord Jesus himself
saith, and his Spirit in his apostles : " Blessed are they which are
persecuted for righteousness' sake ; for their's is the kingdom of
heaven. Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and perse
cute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my
name's sake : rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your re
ward in heaven ;" Matt. v. 10 — 12. " My brethren, count it all
joy when ye fall into divers temptations (not inward temptations of
the devil and our lust, but trials by persecution ;) knowing that tbe
trying of your faith worketh patience. Blessed is the man that en-
dnreth temptation ; for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown
of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him ;"
James i. 2, 3. 12. See Luke vi. 23. 1 Pet. iv. 13. Acts v. 41.
2 Cor. vi. 10. vii. 4. Col: i. 11. Heb. x. 34. 2 Cor. xiii. 9.
xii. 15. O how gloriously doth a tried faith shine, to the comfort
of the believer, and the admiration of the beholders! How easily
may a Christian try himself at such a time, when God is trying him !
One hour's experience, when we have found that our faith can en
dure the furnace, and that we can hazard or let go all for Christ,
will more effectually resolve all our doubtings of our sincerity, than
many a month's trial by mere questioning of our own deceitful
hearts. Object. ' But, you may say, what if God call me not to suffer
ing or hazards ? Must I cast myself upon it without a call ? Or
must I be therefore without comfort ?'
Answ. No ; you shall not need to cast yourself upon suffering,
nor yet to be without comfort for want of it. I know no man but
may serve God at dearer rates to the flesh that most of us do, with
out stepping out of the way of his duty. Nay, he must do it, ex
cept he will avoid his duty. Never had the church yet such times
of prosperity, but that faithful duty would hazard men, and cause

440

DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

their trouble in the flesh. Can you not, nay, ought you not, to put
yourself to greater labor for men's souls ? If you should but go
day after day among the poor, ignorant people where you live, and
instruct them in the knowledge of God, and bear with all their
weakness and rudeness, and continue thus with patience, this might
cost you some labor, and perhaps contempt from many of the un
thankful. And yet you should not do more than your duty, if you
have opportunity for it, as most have, or may have, if they will.
If you should further hire them to learn catechisms ; if you should
extend your liberality to the utmost, for relief of the poor, this
would cost you somewhat. If you carry on every just cause with
resolution r though never so many great friends would draw you to
betray it; this may cost you the loss of those friends. If you
would but deal plainly with the ungodly, and against all sin, as far
as you have opportunity, especially if it be the sins of rulers and
gentlemen of name and power in the world, it may cost you some
what. Nay, though you were ambassadors of Christ,- whose office
is to deal plainly, and not to please men in evil, upon pain of Christ's
displeasure ; you may perhaps turn your great friends to be your
great enemies. Go to such a lord, or such a knight, or such a
gentleman, and tell him freely, that God looketh for another man
ner of spending his time, than in hunting and hawking, and sport
ing and feasting, and that this precious time must be dearly reckon
ed for. Tell him that God looks he should be the most eminent in
holiness, and in a heavenly life, and give'an example thereof to all
that are below him, as God hath made him more eminent in world
ly dignity and possessions. Tell him, that where much is given,
much is required ; and that a low profession, and dull approbation
of that which is good, will serve no man, much less such a man.
Tell him, that his riches must be expended to feed and clothe the
poor, and promote good uses, and not merely for himself and fami
ly, or' else he will make but a sad account. And that he must
freely engage his reputation, estate, and life, and all for Christ and
his Gospel, when he calls you to it ; yea, and forsake all for
him, if Christ put him to it, or else he can be no disciple of Christ:
and then what good will his honors and riches do him, when his
soul shall be called for? Try this course with great men, yea

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 44 1
with great men that seem religious, and that no further than faith
fulness and compassion to men's souls doth bind you, and do it with
all the wisdom you can, that is not carnal ; and then tell me what
it doth cost you. Let those ministers that are near them, plainly
and roundly tell both the parliament-men and commanders of the
army, of their unquestionable transgressions, and that according to
their nature (and woe to them if they do not,) and then let them
tell me what it doth cost them. Alas, sirs, how great a number of
professors are base, daubing, self-seeking hypocrites, that cull out
the safe, die cheap, the easy part of duty, and leave all the rest !
And so ordinarily is this done, that we have made us a new Chris
tianity by it ; and the religion of Christ's own making, the self-de
nying course prescribed by our Master, is almost unknown ; and
he that should practice it would be taken for a madman, or some
self-conceited cynic, or some saucy, if not seditious fellow. It is
not, therefore, because Christ hath not prescribed us a more self-
denying, hazardous, laborious way, that men so commonly take up
in the cheapest religion ; but it is through our false-heartedness to
Christ, and the strength of sensual, carnal interests in us, which
make us put false interpretations on the plainest precepts of Christ,
which charge any unpleasing duty on us, and familislically turn
them into allegories, or at least we will not yield to obey him. And
truly, I think that our shifting of Christ in this unworthy manner,
and even altering that very frame and nature of Christian religion
(by turning that into a flesh-pleasing religion, which is more against
the flesh than all the religions else in the world) and dealing so re
servedly, superficially and unfaithfully in all his work, is a great
cause why Christ doth now appear no more openly for men, and
pour out no larger a measure of his Spirit in gifts and consolations.
When men appeared ordinarily in the most open manner for Christ,
in greatest dangers and sufferings, then Christ appeared more
openly and eminently for them, (yet is none more for meekness,
humility and love, and against unmerciful or dividing zeal, than
Christ.) 2. And as you see that a cheap religiousness doth not so discov
er sincerity ; so secondly, it is not accompanied with that special
blessing of God. As God hath engaged himself in his word, that
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442 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
they shall not lose their reward that give but a cup of water in his
name, so he hath more fully engaged himself to those that are most
deeply engaged for him ; even that they that forsake all for
him, shall have manifold recompence in this life, and in the world
to come eternal life. Let the experience of all the world of Chris
tians be produced, and all will attest the same truth, That it is
God's usual course to give men larger comforts in dearer duties,
than in cheap : nay, seldom doth he give large comforts in cheap
duties, and seldom doth he deny them in dearer ; so be it they are
not made dear by our own sin and foolish indiscretion, but by his
command, and our faithfulness in obeying him. Who knows not
that the consolation of martyrs is usually above other men's, who
hath read of their sufferings and strange sustentations ? Christian,
do but try this by thy own experiences, and tell me, when thou
hast most resolutely followed Christ in a good cause ; when thou
hast stood against the faces of the greatest for God ; when thou
hast cast thy life, thy family and estate upon Christ, and run thy
self into the most apparent hazards for his sake ; hast thou not come
off with more inward peace and comfort, than the cheaper part of
thy religion hath afforded thee ? When thou hast stood to the truth
and Gospel, and hast done good through the greatest opposition,
and lost thy greatest and dearest friends, because thou wouldst not
forsake Christ and his service, or deal falsely in some cause that he
hath trusted thee in ; hast thou not come off with the blessing of
peace of conscience ? Nay, when thou hast denied thy most im
portunate appetite, and most crossed thy lusts, and most humbled
and abased thyself for God, and denied thy credit, and taken shame
to thyself in a free confessing of thy faults, or patiently put up with
the greatest abuses, or humbled and tamed thy flesh by necessary
abstinence, or any way most displeasing it, by crossing its interest,
by bountiful giving, laborious duty, dangers or sufferings, for the
sake of the Lord Jesus, his truth and people ; hath it not been far
better with thee in thy peace and comforts than before ? I know
some will be ready to say, that may be from carnal pride in our
own doing or suffering. I answer, it may be so ; and therefore
let all watch against that. But I am certain that this is God's ordi
nary dealing with his people, and therefore we may ordinarily ex-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 443
pect it. It is for their encouragement in faithful duty ; and I may
truly say, for their reward, when himself calls that a reward which
he gives for a cup of water. Lay well to heart that example of
Abraham, for which he is so often extolled in the Scripture, viz.
His readiness to sacrifice his only son. This was a dear obedience.
" And, saith God, because (mark because) thou hast done this
thing, in blessing I will bless thee, Sic. David would not offer to
God that which cost him nothing ; 2 Sam. xxiv. 24. 1 Chron.
xxi. 24. God will have the best of your hearts, the best of
your labors, the best of your estates, the best of all, or he will not
accept it. Abel's sacrifice was of the best, and it was accepted :
and God saith to Cain, " If thou doest well, shalt not thou be ac
cepted?" Seeing this is so, let me advise you, " Take it not for a calamity,
but for a precious advantage, when God calls thee to a hazardous
costly service, which is like to cost thee much of thy estate, to cost
thee the loss of thy chiefest friends, the loss of thy credit, the in
dignation of great ones, or the most painful diligence and trouble of
body : shift it not off, but take this opportunity thankfully, lest thou
never have such another for the clearing of tfry sincerity, and the
obtaining of more than ordinary consolations from God : thou hast
now a prize in thy hand for spiritual riches, if thou hast but a heart
to improve it. I know all this is a paradox to the unbelieving
world ; but here is the very excellency of the Christian religion,
and the glorj of faith. It looks for its greatest spoils, and richest
prizes from its conquests of fleshly interests : it is not only able to
do it, but expecteth its advancement and consolations by this way.
It is engaged in a war with the world and flesh ; and in this war it
plays not the vapouring fencer, that seems to do much, but never
strikes home, as hypocrites and carnal, worldly professors do : but
he says it home, and spares not* as one that knows, that the flesh's
ruin must be his rising, and die flesh's thriving would be his ruin.
In these things the true Christian alone is in good sadness, and all
the rest of the world but in jest. The Lord pity poor deluded
souls ! You may see by this one thing, how rare a thing true
Christianity is among the multitude that take themselves for Chris
tians ; and how certain therefore, it is that few shall be saved.

444 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Even this one point of true mortification and self-denial, is a stran
ger amongst the most of professors. O how sad a testimony of it
are the actions of these late times, wherein so much hath been
done for self, and safety, and carnal interests, and so little for
Christ ! yea, and that after the deepest engagements of mercies
and vows that ever lay on a people in the world. Insomuch, that
through the just judgment of God, they are now given up to doubt,
whether it be the duty of rulers to do any thing as rulers for Christ,
or no, or whether they should not let Christ alone to do it himself.
Well, this which is such a mystery to the unregenerate world, is a
thing that every genuine Christian is acquainted with ; for " they
that are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and
lusts thereof ;" and the world is dead to them, and they to the
world; Gal. v. 21.
Take this counsel therefore in all the several cases mentioned
in tbe Direction.
1. In your preventing sin, and maintaining your innocency, if
you cannot do it without denying your credit, and exposing your
self to disgrace ; or without the loss of friends, or a breach in your
estate, do it nevertheless ; yea, if it would cost you your utter ruin
in the world, thank God that put such an opportunity into your hand
for extraordinary consolations. For ordinarily the martyrs' com
forts exceed other men's, as much as their burden of duty and suf
fering doth. Cyprian is fain to write for the comfort of some
Christians in his times, that at death were troubled that they missed
of their hopes of martyrdom. So also if you cannot mortify any
lust without much pinching the flesh, do it cheerfully ; for the dear
er the victory costeth you, the sweeter will be the issue and re
view. 2. The same counsel I give you also in your rising from sin.
It is the sad condition of those that yield to a temptation, and once
put their foot within the doors of Satan, that they ensnare them
selves so, that they must undergo thrice as great difficulties to draw
back, as they needed to have done beforehand for prevention and
forbearance. Sin unhappily engageth the sinner to go on ; and one
sin doth make another seem necessary. O how hard a thing is it
for him that hath wronged another by stealing, deceit, overreaching

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 445
in bargaining or the like, to confess his fault, and ask him forgive
ness, and to the utmost of his ability to make restitution ! What
abundance of difficulties will be in the way ! It will likely cost him
the loss of his credit, besides the breach in his estate, and perhaps
lay him open to the rage of him that he hath wronged. Rather he
will be drawn to cover his sin with a lie, or at least by excuses.
And so it is in many other sins. Now in any of these cases, when
men indulge the flesh, and cannot find in their hearts to take that
loss or shame to themselves, which a thorough repentance doth re
quire, they do but feed the troubles of their soul, and hide their
wounds and sores, and not ease them. Usually such persons go on
in a galled, unpeaceable condition, and reach not to solid comfort.
(I speak only of those to whom such confession or restitution is a
duty.) And I cannot wonder at it : for they have great cause to
question the truth of that repentance, and consequently the sound
ness of that heart, which will not bring them to a self-denying duty,
nor to God's way of rising from their sin. It seems at present the
interest of the flesh is actually predominent, when no reason or
conviction will persuade them to contradict it. As ever you would
have sound comfort then in such a case as this, spare not the flesh.
When you have sinned, you must rise again or perish. If you can
not rise without fasting, without free confessing, without the utter
shaming of ourselves, without restitution, never stick at it. This is
your hour of trial : O yield not to the conflict. The dearer
the victory costeth you, the greater will be your peace. Try
it; and if you find it not so, lam mistaken. Yet if you have
sinned so that the opening of it may more discredit the Gospel,
than your confession will honor it, and yet your conscience is un
quiet, and urgeth you to confess, in such a case be first well in
formed, and proceed warily and upon deliberation ; and first open
the case to some faithful minister or able Christian in secret, that
you may have good advice.
3. The same counsel also would I give you in the performance
of your duty. A magistrate is convinced he must punish sinners,
and put down alehouses, and be true to every just cause ; but then
he must steel his face against all men's reproaches, and the solici
tations of all friends. A minister is convinced that he must teach

446 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
from house to house, as well as publicly, if he be able ; and that
he must deal plainly with sinners according to their conditions ;
yea, and require the church to avoid communion with them, if
they be obstinate in evil after other sufficient means ; but then he
shall lose the love of his people, and be accounted proud, precise,
rigid, lordly, and perhaps lose his maintenance. Obey God now ;
and the dearer it costeth you, the more peace and protection, and
the larger blessing may you expect from God : for you do, as it
were, oblige God the more to stick to you ; as you will take your
self obliged to own, and bear out, and reward those that hazard
estate, and credit, and life for you. And if you cannot obey God
in such a trial, it is a sad sign of a falsehearted hypocrite, except
your fall be only in a temptation, from which you rise with renew
ed repentance and resolutions, which will conquer for the time to
come. As Peter, who being left to himself for an example of hu
man frailty, and that Christ might have no friend to stick by him
when he suffered for our sin, yet presently wept bitterly, and af
terwards spent his strength and time in preaching Christ, and laid
down his life in martyrdom for him.
So perhaps many a poor servant, or hard laborer, hath scarce
any time, except the Lord's day, to pray or read. Let such pinch
the flesh a little the more (so they do not overthrow their health)
and either work the harder, or fare the harder, or be clothed the
more meanly, or especially break a little of their sleep, that they
may find some time for these duties ; and try whether the peace
and comfort will not recompense it. Never any man was a loser
for God. So private Christians cannot conscionably discharge the
great plain duty of reproof and exhortation, joyingly, yet plainly
telling their friends and neighbors of their sins, and danger, and
duty, but they will turn friends into foes, and possibly set all the
town on their heads. But is it a duty, or is it not ? If it be, then
trust God with the issue, and do your work, and see whether he
will suffer you to be losers.
For my part I think, that if Christians took God's word before
them, and spared the flesh less, and trusted themselves and all to
Christ alone, and did not baulk all the troublesome and costly part
of religion, and that which most crosseth the interest of the flesh, it

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. ] 17
would be more ordinary with them to be filled with the joys of the
Holy Ghost, and walk in that peace of conscience which is a con
tinual feast ; and to have such full and frequent views both of the
sincerity of their evidencing graces, and of God's reconciled face,
as would banish their doubts and fears, and be a greater help to
their certainty of salvation, than much other labor doth prove. If
you flinch not the fiery furnace, you shall have the company of the
Son of God in it. If you flinch not the prison and stocks, you may
be able to sing as Paul and Silas did. If you refuse not to be
stoned with Stephen, you may perhaps see heaven opened as he
did. If you think these comforts so dear bought, that you will
rather venture without them ; let me tell you, you may take your
course, but the end will convince you to the very heart, of the fol
ly of your choice. Never then complain for want of comfort ; re
member you might have had it, and would not. And let me give
you this with you ; You will shortly find, though worldly pleasures,
riches and honors, were some slight salves to your molested con
science here, yet there will no cure nor ease for it be found here
after. Your merry hours will then all be gone, and your worldly
delights forsake you in distress ; but these solid comforts which you
judged too dear, would have ended in the everlasting joys of glory.
When men do flinch God and his truth in straits, and juggle with
their consciences, and will take out all the honorable, easy, cheap
part of the work of Christ, and make a religion of that by itself,
leaving out all the disgraceful, difficult, chargeable, self-denying
part ; and hereupon call themselves Christians, and make a great
show in the world with this kind of religiousness, and take them
selves injured if men question their honesty and uprightness in the
faith ; these men are notorious self-deceivers, mere hypocrites ;
and in plain truth, this is the very true description by which dam
nable hypocrites are known from sound Christians. The Lord open
men's eyes to see it in time while it may be cured ! Yea, and the
nearer any true Christian doth come to this sin, the more doth he
disoblige God, and quench the spirit of comfort, and darken his
own evidences, and destroy his peace of conscience, and create
unavoidable troubles to his spirit and estrangedness betwixt the Lord

448 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Jesus and his own soul. Avoid this, therefore, if ever you will
have peace.
Direct. XXV. My next advice shall be somewhat near of kin
to the former. If you would learn the most expeditious way to
peace and settled comfort, ' Study well the art of doing good ; and
let it be your every day's contrivance, care and business, how you
may lay out all that God hath trusted you with, to the greatest pleas
ing of God, and to your most comfortable account.'
Still remember (lest any Antinomian should tell you that this sa
vors of Popery, and trusting for peace to our own works ;)
1. That you must not think of giving any of Christ's honor or
office to your best w7orks. You must not dream that they can do
any thing to the satisfaction of God's justice for your sins ; nor that
they have any proper merit in them, so as for their worth to oblige
God to reward you ; nor that you must have any righteousness or
worthiness in yourself and works, which the law of works will so
denominate or own. But only you must give obedience its due
under Christ ; and so you honor Christ himself, when those that
detract from obedience to him, do dishonor him ; and you must
have an evangelical worthiness and righteousness (so called, many
and many times over in the Gospel) which partly consisted! in the
sincerity of your obedience and good works ; as the condition of
continuing your state of justification, and right to eternal life.
2. Remember I have given you many arguments before, to
prove that you may take comfort from your good works and gra
cious actions.
3. If any further objections should be mode against this, read
considerately and believingly, Matt. xxv. v. and vii. throughout, or
the former only ; and I doubt not but you will be fully resolved
But to the work.
Those men that study no other obedience than only to do no
(positive) harm, are so far from true comfort, that they have yet
no true Christianity ; I mean such as will be saving to them. Do
ing good is a high part of a Christian's obedience, and must be the
chief part of his life. The heathen could tell him that asked him,
how men might be like to God ; that one way was, To do good to
all. That is beyond our power, being proper to God the universal

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 449
good, whose mercy is over all his works. But our goodness must
be communicative, if we will be like God, and it must be extend
ed and diffused as far as we can. The apostles' charge is plain, and
we must obey it if we will have any peace ; " While you have time,
do good to all men, especially to them of the household of faith ;"
Gal. vi. 10. " Cease to do evil, learn to do well, seekjudgment,
relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.
Come now, let us reason together, saith the Lord, though your
sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they be
red likecrimson, they shall be as wool;" Isa. i. 16, 17. " To do
good, and to communicate, forget riot ; for with such sacrifices
God is well pleased ;" Heb. xiii. 16. " Charge them that be rich
in this world, that they he not highminded, nor trust in uncertain
riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to en
joy : that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to
distribute, willing to communicate, laying lip in store for themselves
a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold
on eternal life; 1 Tim. vi. 17 — 19. See Luke vi. 33—35.
Mark xiv. 7. Matt. v. 44. 1 Pet. iii. 11. James iv. 17. Psalm
xxxiv. 14. xxxvii. 27. xxxvi. 3. xxxvii. 3. " Trust in the
Lord, and do good." " If thou doest well, shalt thou not be ac
cepted ? But if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door ;" Gen.
iv. 7. " Cornelius, thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a
memorial before God. In every nation he that feareth God, and
worketh righteousness, is accepted of him ;" Acts x. 3, 4. 34, 35.
" Know you not that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey,
his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or
of obedience unto righteousness ? Yield yourselves unto God as
those diat are alive from the dead, and your members as instru
ments of righteousness unto God ;" Rom. vi. 13. 16. Matt. v.
16. Acts ix. 36. Eph. ii. 1 0. " We are created in Christ Jesus
to good works, which God hath ordained that we should walk in
them." 1 Tim. ii. 10. v. 10.25. 2 Tim. iii. 17. Tit. ii. 7.
iii. 8. 14. ii. 14. " He redeemed us from all iniquity, that he
might purify to himself a peculiar people zealous of good works."
1 Pet. ii. 12, Heb. x. 24. " Let us consider one another, to
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450 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
provoke unto love, and to good works." What a multitude of such
passages may you find in Scripture.
You see then how great a part of your calling and religion con
sisted! in doing good. Now it is not enough to make this your care
now and then, or do good when it falls in your way ; but you must
study which are good works, and which are they that you are call
ed to ; and which are'the best works, and to be preferred, that
you choOse not a less instead of a greater. God looks to be serv
ed with the best. You must study for opportunities of doing good,
and of the means of succeeding and accomplishing it ; and for the
removing of impediments ; and for the overcoming of*dissuasives,
and withdrawing temptations. You must know what talents God
hath entrusted you with, and those you must study to do good with ;
whether it be time, or interest in men, or opportunity, or riches,
or credit, or authority, or gifts of mind, or of body : if you have
not one, you have another, and some have all.
This therefore is the thing that I would persuade you to : take
yourself for God's steward ; remember the time when it will be
said to you, " Give account of thy stewardship ; thou shalt be no
longer steward." Let it be your every day's contrivance, how to
lay out your gifts, time, strength, riches or interest, to your Mas
ter's use. Think which way you may do most, first to promote
the Gospel and the public good of the church ; and then, which
way you may help towards the saving of particular men's souls ;
and then, which way you may better the commonwealth, and how
you may do good to men's bodies, beginning with your own and
those of your family, but extending your help as much further as
you are able. Ask yourself every morning, ' Which way may I
this day most further my Master's business, and the good of men ?'
Ask yourself every night, ' What good have I done to-day?' And
labor as much as may be, to be instruments of some great and
standing good, and of some public and universal good, that you
may look behind you at the year's end, and at your lives' end, and
see the good that you have done. A piece of bread is soon eaten,
and a penny or a shilling is soon spent ; but if you could win a soul
to God from sin, that would be a visible, everlasting good. If you
could be instruments of setting up a godly minister in a congrega-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 451
tion that want, the everlasting good of many souls might, in part,
be ascribed to you. If you could help to heal and unite a divided
church, you might more rejoice to look back on the fruits of your
labor, than any physician might rejoice to see his poor patient reco
vered to health. I have told rich men in another book, what op
portunities they have to do good, if they had hearts. How easy
were it with them to refresh men's bodies, and to do very much
for the saving souls ; to relieve the poor ; to set their children to
trades ; to ease the oppressed. How easy to maintain two or
three poor scholars at the Universities, for the service ofthe church.
But I hear but a few that do ever the more in it, except three or
four of my friends in these parts. Let me further tell you, God
doth not leave it to them as an indifferent thing ; Matt. xxv. They
must feed Christ in the poor, or else starve in hell themselves :
they must clothe naked Christ in the poor, or be laid naked in his
fiery indignation for ever. How much more' diligently then must
they help men's sOuls, and the church of Christ, as the need is
greater, and the work better ! Oh the blinding power of riches !
Oh the easiness of man's heart to be deluded ! Do rich men
never think to lie rotting in the dust ? Do they never think that
they must be accountable for all their riches, and for all their time,
and power, and interests ? Do they not know that it will comfort
them at death and judgment, to hear in their reckoning, Item, so
much given to such and such poor ; so much to promote the Gos
pel ; so much to maintain poor scholars, while they study to pre
pare themselves for the ministry ? &c. Than to hear, So much in
such a feast ; to entertain such gallants ; to please such noble friends;
so much at dice, at cards, at horse-races, at cock-fights ; so much
in excess of apparel ; and the rest to leave my posterity in the like
pomp ? Do they not know that it will comfort them more to hear
then of their time spent in reading Scripture, secret and open prayer,
instructing and examining their children and servants ; going to
their poor neighbors' bouses to see what they want, and to persuade
them to godliness ; and in being examples of eminent holiness to
all ; and in suppressing vice, and doing justice, than to hear of so
much time spent in vain recreations, visits, luxuries, and idleness ?
O deep unbelief and hardness of heart, ihat makes gentlemen that

452 DIRECTIONS FOR SETTING AND KEEPING
they tremble not to think of this reckoning ! Well, let me tell
both • them and all men, that if they knew but either tiieir indis
pensable duty of doing good, that lieth on them, or how necessa
ry and sure a way (in subordination to Christ) this act of doing
good is for the soul's peace and consolation, they would study it
better, and practise it more faithfully than now they do : they would
then be glad of an opportunity to do good, for their own gain, as
well as for God's honor, and for the love of good itself. They
would know, that lending to the Lord is the only thriving usury ;
and that no part of all their time, riches, interest in men, power,
or honors, will be then comfortable to them, but that which was
laid out for God : and they will one day find, that God will not
take up with the scraps of their time and riches, which their flesh
can spare ; but he will be first served, even before all comers, and
that with the best, or he will take them for no servants of his.
This is true, and you will find it so, whether you will now believe
it or no.
And because it is possible these lines may fall into the hands of
some of the rulers of this commonwealth, let me here mind them
of two weighty things :
1. What opportunities ©f doing very great good hath been long in
their hands, and bow great an account of it diey have to make. It
hath been long in their power to have done much to the reconciling
of our differences, and healing our divisions, by setting divines a
work of different judgments, to find out a temperament for accom
modation. It hath long been in their power to have done much
towards the supply of all the dark congregrations in England and
Wales, with competently able, sound and faithful teachers. We
have many congregations that do contain three thousand, five thou
sand, or ten thousand souls, that have but one or two ministers
that cannot possibly do tbe tenth part of tbe ministerial work of pri
vate oversight, and so poor souls must be neglected, let ministers
be never so able or painful. We have divers godly, private Chris
tians, of so much understanding, as to be capable of helping us, as
officers in our churches; but they are all so poor, that they are
not able to spare one hour iu a day or two from their labor, much
less to give up themselves to the work. How many a cougrega-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 453
tion is in the same case ? Nothing almost is wanting to us, to have
set our congregations in the order of Christ, and done this great
work of reformation which there is so much talking of, so much as
want of maintenance for a competent number of ministers or elders
to attend the work. I am sure, in great congregations this is the
case, and a sore thatno odier means will remedy. Was it never
in the power of our rulers to have helped us here ? Was nothing
sold for other uses, that was once devoted and dedicated to God,
and might have helped us in this our miserable distress ? Were
our churches able to maintain dieir own officers, our case were
more tolerable ; but when a congregation that wants six, or seven,
or ten, is not able to maintain one, it is hard.
2. The second thing that I would mind our rulers of, is, what
mortal enemies those men are to their souls, that would persuade
them that they must not, as rulers, do good to the souls of men,
and to the church as such ; nor further the reformation, nor propa
gate the Gospel, nor establish Christ's order in the churches of their
country, any otherwise than by a common maintaining the peace
and liberties of all. What doctrine could more desperately undo
you, if entertained ? If you be once persuaded that it belongs not
to you to do good, and the greatest good, to which all your suc
cesses have made way, then all the comfort, the blessing and re
ward is lost; and consequently all the glorious preparative suc
cesses, as to you, are lost. If once you take yourselves to have
nothing to do as rulers for Christ, you cannot promise yourselves
that Christ will have any thing to do for you, as rulers, in a way of
mercy. This, Mr. Owen hath lately told you in his sermon, Octo
ber 13, " The God of heaven forbid, that ever all the devils in hell,
the Jesuits at Rome, or the seduced souls in England, should be
able to persuade the rulers of this land, who are so deeply bound
to God by vows, mercies, professions, and high expenses of treas
ure and blood, to reform his church, and propagate his Gospel ;
that now after all this, it belongeth not to them, but they must, as
rulers, be no more for Christ than for Mahomet. But if ever it
should prove the sad case of England to have such rulers, (which
I strongly hope will never be,) if my prognostics fail not, this will
be their fate : the Lord Jesus will forsake them, as they have for-

454 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
saken him, and the prayers of his saints will be fully turned against
them ; and his elect shall cry to him night and day, till he avenge
them speedily, by making these his enemies to lick the dust, and
dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel, because they would not
that he should reign over them : and then they shall know whether
Christ be not King of kings, and Lord of lords."
Perhaps you may think I digress from' the matter in hand ; but
as long as I speak but for my Lord Christ, and for doing good, I
cannot think that I am quite out of my way. But to return nearer
to those for whose sakes 1 chiefly write, this is that sum of my ad
vice ; Study with all the understanding you have, how to do as
much' good, while you have time, as possibly you can, and you shall
find that (without any Popish or Pharisaical self-confidence) to be
the most excellent art for obtaining spiritual peace, and a large
measure of comfort from Christ.
To that end use seriously and daily to bethink yourself, what way
of expending your time and wealth, and all your talents, will be
most comfortable for you to bear of, and review at judgment. And
take that as the way most comfortable now. Only consult not
with flesh and blood ; make not your flesh of the council in this
work, but take it for your enemy ; expect its violent, unwearied op
position ; but regard not any of its clamors or repinings. But
know, as I said before, that your most true, spiritual comforts are
a prize that must be won, upon the conquest of- the flesh. I will
only add to this, the words of the blessed Dr. Sibbs (a man that
was no enemy to free-grace, nor unjust patron of man's works,) in
his preface to his " Soul's Conflict :" " Christ is first a King of
righteousness, and then of peace. The righteousness that works
by his Spirit brings a peace of sanctification ; whereby though we
are not freed from sin, yet we are enabled to combat with it, and
to get the victory over it. Some degree of comfort follows every
good action, as heat accompanies fire, and as beams and influences
issue from the sun. Which is so true, that very heathens upon
the discharge of a good conscience, have found comfort and peace
answerable ; this is a reward before our reward." Again, " In
watchfulness and diligence we sooner meet with comfort, than in
idle complaining." Again, pp. 44, 45. " An unemployed life is a

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 455
burden to itself. God is a pure Act ; always working ; always
doing. And the nearer our soul comes to God, the more it is in
action, and the freer from disquiet. Men experimentally feel that
comfort in doing that which belongs unto them, which before they
longed for and went without." And in his preface to the " Bruis
ed Reed :" " There is no more comfort to be expected from Christ
than there is care to please him. Otherwise, to make him an abet
tor of a lawless and loose life, is to transform him into a fancy;
nay, into the likeness of him, whose works he came to destroy ;
which is the most detestable idolatry of all. One way whereby
the Spirit of Christ prevaileth in his, is to preserve them from such
thoughts : yet we see people will frame a divinity to themselves,
pleasing to the flesh, suitable to their own ends ; which being vain
in the substance, will prove likewise vain in the fruit, and a building
upon the sands." So far Dr. Sibbs. It seems there were liber
tines and Antinomians then, and will be as long as there are any
carnal, unsanctified professors.
Direct. XXVI. Having led you thus far towards a settled peace,
ray next Direction shall contain, a necessary caution, lest you run
as far into the contrary extreme, viz. ' Take heed that you neither
trouble your own soul with needless scruples, about matters of doc
trine, of duty, or of sin, or about your own condition. Nor yet
that you do not make yourself more work than God hath made
you, by feigning things unlawful, which God hath not forbidden ;
or by placing your religion in will-worship, or in an over curious
insisting on circumstantials, or an over rigorous dealing with your
body.' This is but the exposition of Solomon, " Be not over wise, and
be not righteous overmuch ;" Eccles. vii. 16. A man cannot
serve God too much, formally and strictly considering his service ;
much less love him too much. But we may do too much material
ly, intending thereby to serve God, which though it be not true
righteousness, yet being intended for righteousness, and done as a
service of God, or obedience to him, is here called overmuch
righteousness. I know it is stark madness in the profane, secure
world, to think that the doing of no more than God hath command
ed us, is doing too much, or more than needs ; as if God had bid

456 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
us do more than needs, or had made such laws as few of the fool
ish rulers on earth would make. This is plainly to blaspheme the
Most High, by denying his wisdom and his goodness, and his just
government of the world ; and to blaspheme his holy laws, as if
they were too strict, precise, and made us more to do than needs ;
and to reproach his sweet and holy ways, as if they were grievous,
intolerable, and unnecessary. Much more is their madness, in
charging the godly with being too pure, and too precise, and ma
king too great a stir for heaven, and that merely for their godliness
and obedience ; when, alas, the best do fall so far short of what
God's word, and the necessity of their own souls do require, that
their consciences do more grievously accuse them of negligence,
than the barking world doth of being too precise and diligent. And
yet more mad are the world, to lay out so much time, and care,
and labor, for earthly vanities, and to provide for their contempti
ble bodies for a little while ; and in the mean time to think, that
heaven and their everlasting happiness there, and the escaping of
everlasting damnation in hell, are matters not worth so much ado,
but may be had with a few cold wishes, and that it is but folly to
do so much for it as the godly do. That no labor should be thought
too much for the world, the flesh, and the devil, and every little is
enough for God. And that these. wretched souls are so blinded by
their own lusts, and so bewitched by the devil into an utter igno
rance of their own hearts, that they verily think, and will stand in
it, that for all this they love God above all, and love heavenly things
better than earthly, and therefore shall be saved.
But yet extremes there are in the service of God, which all
wise Christians must labor to avoid. It is a very great question
among divines, Whether the common rule in ethics, that virtue is
ever in the middle between two extremes, be sound, as to Chris
tian virtues. Amesius saith no. The case is not very hard, I
think to be resolved, if you will but use these three distinctions :
1 . Between the acts of the mere rational faculties, understanding
and will, called elicit acts, and the acts of the inferior faculties of
soul and body, called imperate acts. 2. Between the acts that are
about the end immediately, and those that are about the means.
3. Between the intention of an act, and the objective extention,

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND C0MF0BT. 457
and comparison of object with object. And so I say, Prop. 1 . The
end (that is, God and salvation) cannot be too fully known, or too
much loved, with a pure, rational love of complacency, nor too
much sought by the acts of the soul, as purely rational : for the end
being loved and sought for itself, and being of infinite goodness,
must be loved and sought without measure or limitation, it being
impossible here to exceed. Prop. 2. The means, while they are
not misapprehended, but taken as means, and materially well un
derstood, cannot be too clearly discerned, nor too rightly chosen,
nor too resolutely prosecuted. Prop. 3. It is too possible to mis
apprehend the means, and to place them instead of the end, and so
to overlove them. Prop. 4. The nature of all the means consist
ed! in a middle or mean between two extremes, materially ; both
which extremes are sin : so that it is possible to overdo about all
the means, as to the matter of them, and the extent of our acts.
Though we cannot love God too much, yet it is possible to preach,
hear, pray, read, meditate, confer of good too much : for one duty
may shut out another, and a greater may be neglected by our over
doing in a lesser ; which was the Pharisees' sin in sabbath resting.
Prop. 5. If we be never so right in the extention of our acts, yet
we may go too far in the intention of the imperate acts or passions
of the soul, and that both on the means and end ; though the pure
acts of knowing or willing cannot be too great towards God and
salvation, yet the passions and acts commonly called sensitive, may.
A man may think on God not only too much, (as to exclude other
necessary thoughts,) but to intensely, and love and desire too pas
sionately : for there is a degree of thinking or meditating, and of
passionate love and desire, which the brain cannot bear, but it will
cause madness, and quite overthrow the use of reason, by over
stretching the organs, or by the extreme turbulency of the agitated
spirits. Yet I never knew the man, nor ever shall do, I think, that
was ever guilty of one of these excesses ; that is, of loving or de
siring God so passionately, as to distract him. But I have often
known weak-headed people, (that be not able to order their
thoughts,) and many melancholy people, guilty of the other ; that
is, of thinking too much, and too seriously and intensely on good
and holy things, wherebv they have overthrown their reason, and
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458 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
been distracted. And here I would give all such weak-headed,
melancholy persons this warning, that whereas in my Book of Rest,
I so much press a constant course of heavenly meditation, I do in
tend it only for sound heads, and not for the melancholy, that have
weak heads, and are unable to bear it. That may be their sin,
which to others is a very great duty ; while they think to do that
which they cannot do, they will but disable themselves for that
which they can do. I would therefore advise those melancholy
persons whose minds are so troubled, and heads weakened, that
they are in danger of overthrowing their understandings,,, (which
usually begins in multitudes of scruples, and restlessness of mind,
and continual fears, and blasphemous temptations, where it begins
with these, distraction is at hand, if not prevented,) that they for
bear meditation, as being no duty to them, though it be to others;
and instead of it be the more in those duties which they are fit for^
especially conference with judicious Christians, and cheerful and
thankful acknowledgment of God's mercies. And thus have I
shewed you how far we may possibly exceed in God's service.
Let me now a little apply it.
It hath ever been the devil's policy to begin in persuading men
to worldliness, fleshpleasing, security, aud presumption, and utter
neglect of God and their souls, or at least preferring their bodies
and worldly things, and by this means he destroyeth the world.
But where this will not take, but God awaketh men effectually,
and casteth out the sleepy devil, usually he fills men's heads with
needless scruples, and next setteth them on a religion not com
manded, and would make poor souls believe they do nothing, if
they do not more than God hath commanded them. When the
devil hath no other way left to destroy religion and godliness, be
will pretend to be religious and godly himself, and then he is al
ways over-religious and over-godly in his materials. All overdo
ing in God's work is undoing ; and whoever you meet with that
would overdo, suspect him to be either a subtle, destroying enemy,
or one deluded by tbe destroyer. O what a tragedy could I here
shew you of the devil's acting ! And what a mystery in the hell
ish art of deceiving could I open to you ! And shall I keep the

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 459
devil's counsel ? No : O that God would open the eyes of his
poor desolate churches at last to see it !
The Lord Jesus in wisdom and tender mercy, established) a law
of grace, and rule of life, pure and perfect, but simple and plain;
laying the condition of man's salvation more in the honesty of the
believing heart, than in the strength of wit, and subtlety of a know
ing bead. He comprised the truths which were of necessity to sal
vation in a narrow room : so that the Christian faith was a matter
of great plainness and simplicity. As long as Christians were such
and held to this, the Gospel rode in triumph through the world, and
an omnipotency of the Spirit accompanied it, bearing down all be"
fore it. Princes and sceptres stooped ; subtle philosoply was non-
plust ; and all useful sciences came down, and acknowledged them
selves servants, and took their places, and were well contented to
attend the pleasure of Christ. As Mr. Herbert saith in his " Church
Militant ;"— ¦Religion thence fled into Greece, where arts
Gave her the highest place in all men's hearts;
Learning was proposed ; philosophy was set ;
Sophisters taken in a fisher's net.
Plato and Aristotle were al a loss,
And wheeled about again to spell Christ's cross.
Prayers chas'd syllogisms into their den,
And '-ergo' was transformed into Amen.
The serpent envying this happiness of the church, hath no way
to undo us, but by drawing us from our Christian simplicity. By
the occasion of heretics' quarrels and errors, the serpent steps in,
and will needs be a spirit of zeal in the church ; and he will so
overdo against heretics, that he persuades them they must enlarge
their creed, and add this clause against one, and that against an
other, and all was but for the perfecting and preserving of the
Christian faith. And so he brings it to be a matter of so much
wit to be a Christian, (as Erasmus complains,) that ordinary heads
were not able to resell it. He had got them with a religious, zeal
ous cruelty to their own and others' souls, to lay all their salvation,
and the peace of the church, upon some unsearchable mysteries «

460 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
about the Trinity, which God either never revealed, or never clear
ly revealed, or never laid so great a stress upon : yet he persuades
them that there was Scripture-proof enough for these ; only the
Scripture spoke it but in. the premises, or in darker terms, and they
must but gather into their creed the consequences, and put it into
plainer expressions, which heretics might not so easily corrupt,
pervert, or evade. Was not this reverent zeal ? And was not
the devil seemingly now a Christian of the most judicious and for
ward sort ? But what got he at this one game ? 1 . He necessi
tated implicit faith even in fundamentals, when he had got points
beyond a vulgar reach among fundamentals. 2. He necessitated
some living judge for the determining of fundamentals ' quoad nos,'
though not « in se' (the soul of Popish wickedness,) that, is, what it is
in sense that the people must take for fundamentals. 3. He got a
standing verdict against the perfection and sufficiency of Scripture,
(and consequently against Christ, his Spirit, his apostles, and the
Christian faith ;) and that it will not afford us so much as a creed
or system of fundamentals, or points absolutely necessary to salva
tion and brotherly communion, in fit or tolerable phrases; but we
must mend the language at last. 4. He opened a gap for human
additions, at which he might afterwards bring in more at his pleas
ure. 5. He framed an engine for infallible division, and to tear in
pieces the church, casting out all as heretics that could not subscribe
to his additions, and necessitating separation by all dissenters, to
the world's end, till the devil's engine be overthrown. 6. And
hereby he lays a ground upon the divisions of Christians, to bring
men into doubt of all religion, as not knowing which is the right.
7. And he lays the ground of certain heart-burnings, and mutual
hatred, contentions, revilings, and enmity. Is not here enough got
at one cast ? Doth there need any more to the establishing of the
Romish and hellish darkness ? Did not this one act found the seat
of Rome? Did not the devil get more in his gown in a day than
he could get by his sword in three hundred years ? And yet the
Holy Ghost gave them full warning of this beforehand ; " For I
am jealous over you with a godly jealously ; for I have espoused
you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to
' Christ. But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 461
Eve, through his subtlety, so your minds should be corrupted from
the simplicity that is in Christ ;" 2 Cor. xi. 2, 3. " Him ihat is
weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubtful disputations ;"
Rom. xiv. 1. "The law of the Lord is perfect;" Psal. xix.
" All Scripture is given by inspiration from God, and is profitable
for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteous
ness, that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished
unto all good works;" 2 Tim. iii. 16, 17. "To the law and to
the testimony : if they speak not according to these, it is because
there is no truth in them ;" Isa. viii. 20. With many the like.
This plot the serpent hath found so successful, that lie hath fol
lowed it on to this day. He hath made it the great engine to get
Rome on his side, and to make them tbe great dividers of Christ's
church. He made the pope and the council of Trent believe, that
when they had owned the ancient creed of the church, they must
put in as many and more additional articles of their own, and anath
ematize all gainsayers ; and these additions must be the peculiar
mark of their church as Romish ; and then all that are not of that
church, that is, that own not these superadded points, are not of
the true church of Christ, if they must be judges. Yea, among
ourselves hath the devil used successfully this plot ! What con
fession of the purest church hath not some more than is in Scrip
ture? The most modest must mend the phrase and speak plainer,
and somewhat of their own in it, not excepting our own most re
formed confession.
Yea, and where modesty restrains men from putting all such in
ventions and explications in their creed, the devil persuades men,
that they being the judgments of godly, reverend divines (no doubt
to be reverenced, valued, and heard,) it is almost as much as if it
were in the creed, and therefore whoever dissenteth must be noted
with a black coal, and you must disgrace him, and avoid commun
ion with him as an heretic. Hence lately is your union, commun
ion, and the church's peace, laid upon certain unsearchable myste
ries about predestination, the order and objects of God's decrees,
- the manner of the Spirit's most secret operations on the soul, the
nature of the will's essential liberty, and its power of self-deter
mining, the Divine concourse, determination or predestination of

462

DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING

man's and all other creatures' actions, Sic. That he is scarcely to
be accounted a fit member for our fraternal communion that differs
from us herein. Had it not been for this one plot, the Christian
faith had been kept pure ; religion had been one ; the church had
been one ; and the hearts of Christians had been more one than
they are. Had not the devil turned orthodox, he had not made
so many true Christians heretics, as Epiphanius and Austin have
enrolled in the black list. Had not the enemy of truth and peace
got into the chair, and made so pathetic an oration as to inflame the
minds of the lovers of truth to be over zealous for it, and to do too
much, we might have had truth and peace to this day. Yea, still,
if he see any man of experience and moderation stand up to re
duce men to the ancient simplicity, he presently seems the most
zealous for Christ, and tells the inexperienced leaders of the flocks,
that it is in favor of some heresy that such a man speaks ; he is
plotting a carnal syncretism, and attempting the reconcilement of
Christ and Belial ; he is tainted with Popery, or Socinianism, or
Arminianism, or Calvinism, or whatsoever may make him odious
with those he speaks to. O what the devil hath got by over-doing !
•And as this is true in doctrines, so is it in worship and discipline,
and pastoral authority, and government. When the serpent could
not get the world to despise the poor fishermen that published the
Gospel (the devil being judged, and the world convinced by the
power ofthe Holy Ghost, the Agent, Advocate, and Vicar of Christ,
on earth,) he will then be the most forward to honor and promote
them. And if he cannot make Constantine a persecutor of them,
he will persuade him to raise them in worldly glory to the stars,
and make them lords of Rome, and possess them with princely
dignities and revenues. And he hath got as much by over-honor
ing them, as ever he did by persecuting and despising them. And
now in England, when this plot is descried, and we had taken
down that superfluous honor, as antichristian, what doth the
devil but set in again on the other side ? And none is so zealous a
reformer as he. He cries down all as antichristian, which he de
sireth should fall. Their tithes and maintenance are antichristian
and oppressive (O pious, merciful devil,) down with them ! These
church-lands were given by Papists to Popish uses, to maintain

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 463
bishops, and deans, and chapters, down with them ! These col
lege-lands, these cathedrals, nay, these churchhouses, or tem
ples (for so I will call them, whether the devil will or no,) all come
from idolaters, and are abused to idolatry, down with them ! Nay,
think you but he hath taken the boldness to cry out, These priests,
these ministers, are all antichristian, seducers, needless, enviers
ofthe spirit of prophesy, and ofthe gifts of their brethren, mo
nopolizers of preaching, down with them too ! So that though he
yet have not what he would have, the old serpent hath done more
as a reformer by overdoing, than he did in many a year as a de-
former or hinderer of reformation. Yet if he do but see that there
is a Sovereign Power that can do him a mischief, he is ready to
tell them, they must be merciful, and not deal cruelly with sin
ners ! Nay, it belongs not to them to reform, or to judge who
are heretics and who not, or to restrain false doctrine, or church-
disturbers. Christ is sufficient for this himself. How oft hath the
devil preached thus, to tie the hands of those that might wound
him. Would you see any further how he hath played this successful
game of overdoing ? Why, he hath done as much by it in wor
ship and discipline, as almost in any thing. When he cannot have
discipline neglected, he is an over zealous spirit in the breasts of
the clergy ; and he persuades them to appoint men penance, and
pilgrimages, and to put the necks of princes under their feet. But
if this tyranny must be abated, he cries down all discipline, and
tells them it is all but tyranny and human inventions ; and this con
fessing sin to ministers for relief of conscience, and this open con
fessing in the congregation for a due manifestation of repentance,
and satisfaction to the church, that they may hold communion with
them, it is all but Popery and priestly domineering.
And in matter of worship, worst of all. When he could not
persuade the world to persecute Christ, and to refuse him and his
worship, the serpent will be the most zealous worshipper, and saith,
as Herod, and with the same mind, " Come and tell me, that I
may worship him." He persuades men to do and overdo. He
sets them on laying out their revenues in sumptuous fabrics, in
fighting to be masters of the holy land and sepulchre of Christ ; on

404 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
going pilgrimages ; worshipping saintj, angels, shrines, relics, ador
ing the very bread of the sacrament as God, excessive fastings,
choice of meats, numbered prayers on beads, repetitions of words,
so may Ave Maries, Pater Nosters, the name Jesus so oft repeat
ed in a breath, so many holidays to saints, canonical hours, even
at midnight to pray, and that in Latin for greater reverence, cross
ings, holy garments, variety of prescribed gestures, kneeling and
worshipping before images, sacrificing Christ again to his Father
in the mass ; forswearing marriage ; living retiredly, as separate
from the world ; multitudes of new, prescribed rules and orders of
life ; vowing poverty ; begging without need ; creeping to the cross,
holy water, and holy bread, carrying palms, kneeling at altars,
bearing candles, ashes ; in baptism, crossing, conjuring out the
devil, salting, spittle, oil ; taking pardons, indulgencies, and dis
pensations of the pope ; praying for the dead, perambulations,
serving God to merit heaven, or to ease souls in purgatory ; doing
works of supererogation, with multitudes the like. All these hath
the devil added to God's worship, so zealous a worshipper of Christ
is he, when he takes that way. Read Mr. Herbert's " Church
Militant of Rome," pp. 188 — 190. I could trace this deceiver
yet further, and tell you wherein, when be could not hinder refor
mation in Luther's days, he would needs overdo in reforming !
But O how sad an example of it have we before our eyes in Eng
land ! Never people on earth more hot upon reforming ! Never
any deeper engaged for it ! The devil could not hinder it by fire
and sword ; when he sees that, he will needs turn reformer, as I
said before, and he gets the word, and cries down antichrist, and
cries up reformation, till he hath done what we see ! He hath
made a Babel of our work, by confounding our languages ; for
though he will be for reformation too, yet his name is Legion, he
is an enemy to the one God, one Mediator and Head, one faith,
and one baptism, one heart, and one lip, and one way, unity is
the chief butt that he shoots at. Is baptism to be reformed ?
Christ is so moderate a Reformer, that he only bids, Down with
the symbolical, mystical rite of man's vain addition. But the ser
pent is a more zealous reformer. He saith, Out with express
covenanting ; out with children ; they are a corruption of the or-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 465
dinance. And to odiers he says, Out with baptism itself. We
might follow him thus through other ordinances. Indeed he so
.overdoes in his reforming, diat he would not leave us a Gospel, a
ministry, a magistracy to be for Christ, no, nor a Christ ; (though
yet he would seem to own a God, and the light of nature.) All
these with him are antichristian.
By this time I hope you see that this way of overdoing hath
another author than many zealous people do imagine ; and that it
is the devil's common, successful trade ; so that his agents in state-
assemblies are taught his policy, ' When you have no other way of
undoing, let it be by overdoing.' And the same way he takes with
the souls of particular persons. If he see them troubled for sin,
and he cannot keep them from the knowledge of Christ and free
grace, he puts the name of free grace and Gospel-preaching upon
Antinomian and libertine errors which subvert the very Gospel and
free grace itself. If he see men convinced of this, and that it is
neither common nor religious libertinism and sensuality that will
bring men to heaven, then he will labor to make Papists of them,
and to set them on a task of external formalities, or macerating
their bodies with hurtful fastings, watchings, and cold, as if self-
murder were the highest pitch of religion, and God had pleasure
to see his people torment themselves ! I confess it is very few
that ever I knew to have erred far in the austere usage of their bo
dies. But some I have, and especially poor, melancholy Chris
tians, that are more easily drawn to deal rigorously with their flesh
than others be. And such writings as lately have been published
by some English Popish formalists, I have known draw men into
this snare. I would have all such remember, 1 . That God is a
Spirit, and will be worshipped in spirit and in truth ; and such wor
shippers doth he seek. 2. That Gok will have mercy and not
sacrifice; and that the vitals of religion are in a consumption,
when the heat of zeal is drawn too much to the outside ; and that
placing most in externals, is the -great character of hypocrisy, and
is that pharisaical religion to which the doctrine and practice ofthe
Lord Jesus was most opposite, as any that will read the Gospel
may soon see. 3. That God hath made our bodies to be his ser
vants, and instruments of righteousness (Rom. vi. 13.), and help-
Vol. I. 59

466 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ful and serviceable to our souls in welldoing. And therefore it is
disobedience, it is injustice, it is cruelty to disable them, and cause
lessly to vex and torment them, much more to destroy them. You
may see by sick men, by melancholy men, by madmen and chil
dren, how unfit that soul is to know, or love, or serve God, that
hath not a fit body to work in and by. The serpent knows this well
enough. If he can but get you by excessive fastings, watchings,
labors, studies, or other austerities, especially sadness and per
plexities of mind, to have a sick body, a crazed brain, or a short
life, you will be able to do him but little hurt, and God but little
service, besides the pleasure that he takes in your own vexation.
Nay, he will hope to make a further advantage of your weakness,
and to keep many a soul in the snares of sensuality, by telling them
of your miseries, and saying to them, ' Dost thou not see in such
a man or woman, what it is to be so holy and precise ? They will
all run mad at last. If once thou grow so strict, and deny thyself
thy pleasures, and take this precise course, thou wilt but make
thy life a misery, and never have a merry day again.' Such ex
amples as yours the devil will make use of that he may terrify poor
souls from godliness, and represent the word and ways of Christ
to them in an odious, and unpleasing, and discouraging shape.
Doubtless that God who himself is so merciful to your body, as well
as to your soul, would have you to be so too. He that provided
so plentifully for its refreshment, would not have you refuse his
provision. He that saith that the righteous man is merciful to his
beast, no doubt would not have him to be unmerciful to his own
body. You are commanded to love your neighbors but as yourself;
and therefore by cruelty and unmerciful dealing with your own bo
dy, you will go about to justify the like dealings with others. You
durst not deny to feed, to clothe, to comfort and refresh thepoo^
lest Christ should say, " You did it not to me." And how should
you dare to deny the same to yourself? How will you answer God
for the neglect of all that service which you should have done him,
and might, if you had not disabled your bodies and mind ? He re
quireth that you delight yourself in him. And how can you do
that when you habituate both mind and body to a sad, dejected,
mournful garb ? The service that God requires, is, " To serve

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 467
him with cheerfulness in the abundance that we possess ;" Deut.
xxviii. 47. If you think that I here contradict what I said in the
former Directions, for pinching the flesh, and denying its desires,
you are mistaken. I only shew you the danger of the contrary ex
treme. God's way lieth between both. The truth is (il you would
be resolved how far you may please or displease the flesh) the flesh
being ordained to be our servant and God's servant, must be used
as a servant. You will give your servant food, and raiment, and
wholesome lodging, and good usage, os else you are unjust, and
he will be unfit to do your work. But so far as he would master
you, or disobey you, you will correct him, or keep him under.
You will feed your horse, or else he will not carry you ; but if he
grow unruly, you must tame him. It is a delusory formality of
Papists, to tie all die countries to one time and measure of fasting,
as Lent, Fridays, &;c. When men's states are so various that
many (though not quite sick) have more need of a restoring diet ;
and those that need fasting, need it not all at once, not in one
measure, but at the time, and in the measure, as the taming of
their flesh required) it. As if a physician should proclaim that all
his patients should take physic such forty days every year, whether
their disease be plethoric or consuming, from fulness or from ab
stinence, and whether the disease take him at that time of the year,
or another. And remember that you must not under pretences of
saving the body, disable it to serve God. You will not lay any
such correction on your child or servant as shall disable them from
their work, but such as shall excite them to it. And understand
that all your afflicting your body must be either preventive, as keep
ing the fire from the thatch, or medicinal and corrective, and not
strictly vindictive ; for that belongs to your Judge. Though in a
subordination to the other ends, the smart or suffering for its fault'
is one end, and so it is truly penal or vindictive, as all chastisement
is. And so Paul saith, " Behold what revenge," he. 2 Cor. vii.
11. but as not mere judicial revenge is. Remember therefore,
though you must so far tame your body as to bring it into subjection,
that you perish not by pampering ; yet not so far as to bring it to
weakness, and sickness, and unfitness for its duty. Nor yet must
you dare to conceit that you please God, -or satisfy him for your

468 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
sin, by such a wronging and hurting your own body. Such Popish
religiousness shews, that men have very low and carnal conceits ol
God. Was it not a base wickedness in them that offered their
children in sacrifice, to think that God would be pleased with such
cruelty ? Yea, were it not to have directed us to Christ, he would
not have accepted of the blood of bulls and goats ; it is not sacri
fice that he desires. He never was bloodthirsty, nor took any plea
sure in the creature's suffering. How can you think then that he
will take pleasure in your consuming and destroying your own bo
dies ? It is as unreasonable as to imagine, that he delights to have
men cut their own throats, or hang themselves ; for pining and con
suming one's self is self-murder as well as that. Yet I know no man
should draw back from a painful or hazardous work, when God
calls him to it, for fear of destroying the flesh ; but do not make
work or suffering for yourselves. God will lay as much affliction on
you as you need, and be thankful if he will enable you to bear that ;
but you have no need to add more. If yourselves make the suffer
ing, how can you with any encouragement, beg strength of God
to bear it ? And if you have not strength, what will you do ? Nay,
how can you pray for deliverance from God's afflictings, when you
make more of your own ? And thus I have shewed you the dan
ger of overdoing, and what hindrance it is to a settled peace, both of
church (state) and soul ; though perhaps it may not condemn a par
ticular soul so certainly (in most parts of it) as doing too little will.
5. The next part of my Direction (first expressed) is, That you
avoid causeless scruples, about doctrines, duties, sins, or your own
state. These are also engines of the enemy, to batter the peace, and
comfort of your soul ; he knows that it is cheerful obedience, with
a confidence of Christ's merits and mercies that God accepteth ;
and therefore if he cannot hinder a poor soul from setting upon du
ty, he will hinder him if he can, by these scruples, from a cheer
ful and prosperous progress. First, If he can, he will take in scru
ples about the truth of his religion, and shewing him the many opin
ions that are in the world, he will labor to bring the poor Christian
to a loss. Or else he will assault him by the men of some particu
lar sect, to draw him to that party, and so by corrupting his judg-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 469
ment, to break his peace ; or at least to trouble his head, and di
vert his thoughts from God, by tedious disputes. The Papists will
tell him, that they are the only true Catholic church as if they had
got a monopoly or patent for religion, and had confined Christ to
themselves who are such notorious abusers of him ; and as if all
the churches of Greece, Ethiopia, and the rest of the world, were
unchurched by Christ, to humor Master Pope, though they be far
more in number, and many of them sounder in doctrine than the
Romanists are. Those of other parties will do the like, each one
to draw him to their own way. And the devil would make him
believe that there are as many religions as there are odd opinions,
when alas, the Christian religion is one, and but one, consisting,
for the doctrinals, in those fundamentals contained in our creed.
And men's lesser erroneous opinions are but the scabs that adhere
to their religion. Only the church of Rome is a very leper, whose
infectious disease doth compel us to avoid her company. (As for
any sort of men that deny the fundamentals, I will not call them
by the name of Christians.) So also in duties of worship, satan
will be casting in scruples. If they should hear the word, he will
cause them to be scrupling the calling of the minister, or something
in his doctrine to discourage them. If they should dedicate their
children to-Christ in the baptismal covenant, he will be raising scru
ples about the lawfulness of baptizing infants. When they should
solace their souls at the Lord's supper, or other communion of the
church, he will be raising scruples about the fitness of every one
that they are to join with, and whether it be lawful to join with such
an ignorant man, or such a wicked man ; or whether it be a true
church, or righdy gathered, or governed, or the minister a true
minister, and twenty the like. When they should join with the
church in singing of God's praises, he will move one to scruple
singing David's psalms ; another to scruple singing among the un
godly ; another singing psalms that agree not to every man's con
dition ; another, because our translation is bad, or our metre de
fective, and we might have better. When men should spend the
Lord's day in God's spiritual worship, he causeth one to scruple,
whether the Lord's day be of divine institution. Another he drives
into the other extreme, to scruple almost every thing that is not

470 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
worship. Whether they may provide their meat on that day (when
yet it is a solemn day of thanksgiving, and they scruple not much
more on other thanksgiving-days) or whether they may so much as
move a stick out of the way. Others he moves to trouble them
selves with scruples, as what hour the day begins and ends, and
die like. Whereas, if they, 1. Understood that worldly rest is
commanded but as help to spiritual worship. 2. And that they
must employ as much of that day in God's work as they do of oth
er days in their callings, and rest in the night as atother times, and
that God looks to time for -work's sake, and not at the work for the
time's sake ; this would cast out most of their scruples. The like
course Satan takes with Christians in reading, praying in secret, or
in their families, teaching their families, reproving sinners, teach
ing the ignorant, meditation, and all other duties, too long to men
tion the particular scruples which he thrusts into men's heads, much
more to resolve them, which would require a large volume alone.
Now I would entreat all such Christians to consider, how little
they please God, and how much they please Satan, and how much
they break their own peace, and the peace of the churches. If
you send a man on a journey, would you like him better that would
stand questioning and scrupling every step he goes, whether he
set the right foot before ? Or whether he should go in the foot
path or in the road ? Or him that would cheerfully go on, not
thinking which foot goeth forward ; and rather step a little beside
the path, and in again, than to stand scrupling when he should be
going ? If you send reapers into your harvest, which would you
like better, him that would stand scrupling how many straws he
should cut down at once, and at what height ; and with fears of
cutting them too high or too low, too many at once, or too few,
should do you but little work ? Or him that should do his work
cheerfully, as well as he can ? Would you not be angry at such
childish, unprofitable diligence or curiosity, as is a hindrance to
your work ? And is it not so with our Master ? There was but one
of those parties in the right that Paul spoke to ; Rom. xiv. xv. And
yet he not only persuades them to bear with one another, and not
to judge one another, but to receive the weak in faith, and not to
doubtful disputations ; but he bids them, " Let every man be fully

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 471
persuaded in his own mind." How? Can he that crreth be fully
persuaded in his error ? Yes, he may go on boldly and confident
ly, not troubling himself with demurs in his duty, as long as he took
the safer side in his doubt. Not that he should encourage any to
venture on sin, or to neglect a due inquiry after God's mind. But
I speak against tormenting scruples, which do no work, but hinder
from it, and stay us from our duty.
The same I say against scruples about your sins ; Satan will make
you believe that every thing is a sin, that he may disquiet you, if he
cannot get you to believe that nothing almost is sin, that he may de
stroy you. You shall not put a bit in your mouth, but he will move
a scruple, whether it were not too good, or too much. You shall
not clothe yourself, but he will move you to scruple the lawfulness
of it. You shall not come into any company, but he will after
wards vex you about every word you spoke, lest you sinned.
The like I may say also about your condition, but more of that
anon. Direct. XXVII. ' When God hath once shewed you a certainty,
or but a strong probability of your sincerity and his especial love,
labor to fix this so deep in j our apprehension and memory, that it
may serve for the time to come, and not only for the present. And
leave not your soul too open to changes, upon every new appre
hension, nor to question all that is past upon every jealousy; except
when some notable declining to the world, and the flesh, or a com
mitting of gross sins, or a wilfulness or carelessness in other sins
that you may avoid, do give you just cause of questioning your
sincerity, and bringing your soul again to the bar, and your estate
to a more -exact review.'
Some Antinomian writers and preachers you shall meet with
who will persuade you, whatsoever sins you fall into, never more
to question your justification or salvation. I have said enough be
fore to prove their doctrine detestable. Their reason is, because
God changeth not as we change, and justification is never lost. To
which I answer, 1. God hated us while we were workers of ini
quity ; Psal. xi. 5. v. 5. and was angry with us when we were
children of wrath ; Ephes. I — 3. and afterwards he laid by that
hatred and wrath ; and all this without change. If we cannot
reach to apprehend how God's unchangeableness can stand with

472 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the fullest and most frequent expressions of him in Scripture, must
we therefore deny what those expressions do contain ? As Austin
saith, " Shall we deny that which is plain, because we cannot reach
that which is obscure and difficult ?' 2. But if these men had well
studied the Scriptures, they might have known that the same man
that was yesterday hated as an enemy, may to day be reconciled
and loved as a son, and that without any change in God ; even as
it falls out within the reach of our knowledge : for God ruleth the
world by his laws ; they are his moral instruments ; by them he
condemneth ; by them he justifieth, so far as he is said in this life,
before the judgment day, to do it, (unless there be any other secret
act of justification with him, which man is not able now to under
stand.) The change is therefore in our relations, and in the moral
actions of the laws. When we are unbelievers, and impenitent, we
are related to God as enemies, rebels, unjustified and unpardoned ;
being such as God's law condemneth and pronounceth enemies,
and the law of grace doth not yet justify or pardon ; and so God is,
as it were, in some sense obliged, according to that law which we
are under, to deal with us as enemies, by destroying us; and this
is God's hating, wrath, &C. When we repent, return, and believe,
our relation is changed ; the same law that did condemn us, is re
laxed and disabled, and the law of grace doth now acquit us ; it
pardoneth us, it justifieth us, and God by it: and so God is recon
ciled to us, when we are such as according to his own law of grace
he is, as it were, oblige to forgive and to do good to, and to use
as sons. Is not all this apparently without any change in God ?
Cannot he make a law that shall change its moral action according
the change of the actions or inclinations of sinners ? And this with
out any change in God ? And so, if it should be that a justified
man should fall from God, from Christ, from sincere faith or obe
dience, the law would condemn him again, and the law of grace
would justify him no more (in that state,) and all this without any
change in God. 3. If this Antinomian argument would prove any
thing, it would prove justification before, and so without, Christ's
satisfaction, because there is no change in God. 4. The very
point, That no justified man shall ever fall from Christ, is not so
clear and fully revealed in Scripture, and past all doubt from the

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 473
assault of objections, as that a poor soul in such a relapsed estate
should venture his everlasting salvation wholly on this, supposing
that he were certain that he was once sincere. For my own part,
I am persuaded that no rooted believer, that is habitually and
groundedly resolved for Christ, and hath crucified the flesh and
the world, (as all have that are thoroughly Christ's,) do ever fall
quite away from him afterwards. But I dare not lay my salvation
on this. And if I were no surer of my salvation, than I am of the
truth of this my judgment, to speak freely, my soul would be in a
very sad condition. 5. But suppose it as certain and plain as any
word in the Gospel, (that a justified man is never quite unjustified;)
yet as every new sin brings a new obligation to punishment, (or else
they could not be pardoned, as needing no pardon, so must every
sin have its particular pardon, and consequently the sinner a par
ticular justification from the guilt of that sin,) besides his first gen
eral pardon (and justification :) for to pardon sin before it is com
mitted, is to pardon sin that is no sin, which is a contradiction, and
impossibility. Now, though for daily, unavoidable infirmities, there
be a pardon of course, upon the title of our habitual faith and re
pentance ; yet whether in case of gross sin, or more notable defec
tion, this will prove a sufficient title to particular pardon, without the
addition of actual repentance ; and what case the sinner is in till
that actual repentance and faith, as I told you before, are so diffi
cult questions, (it being ordered by God's great wisdom that they
should be so,) that it beseems no wise man to venture his salvation
on his own opinion in these. Nay, it is certain, that if gross sinners
having opportunity and knowledge of their sins, repent not, they
shall perish. And therefore I think, a justified man hath great rea
son upon such falls, to examine his particular repentance, (as well
as his former state,) and not to promise himself, or presume upon
a pardon without it. 6. And besides all this, though both the con
tinuance of faith, and non-intercision of justification be never so cer
tain, yet when a man's obedience is so far overthrown, his former
evidences and persuasions of his justification will be uncertain to
him. Though he have no reason to think that God is changeable,
or justification will be lost, yet he hath reason enough to question
whether ever he were a true believer, and so were ever justified.
Vol. I. 60

474 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
For faith worketh by love ; and they that love Christ will keep his
commandments. Libertines and carnal men may talk their pleas
ure ; but when Satan maintains not their peace, sin will break it :
and Dr. Sibbs' words will be found true, " Soul's Conflict," pp. 4 1 ,
42. " Though the main pillar of our comfort be the free forgive
ness of our sins, yet if there be a neglect of growing in holiness,
the soul will never be soundly quiet, because it will be prone to
question the truth of justification ; and it is as proper for sin to raise
doubts and fears in the conscience, as for rotten flesh and wood to
breed worms : where there is not a pure conscience, there is not a
pacified conscience," &c. Read the rest.
Thus much I have been fain to premise, lest my words for con
solation should occasion security and desolation. But now let me
desire you to peruse the Direction, and practice it. If when God
hath given you assurance, or strong probabilities of your sincerity,
you will make use of it but only for that present time, you mil never
then have a settled peace in your soul : besides, the great wrong
you do to God, by necessitating him to be so often renewing such
discoveries, and repeating the same words to you so often over.
If your child offend you, would you have him when he is pardon
ed, no longer to believe it, than you are telling it him? Should he
be still asking you over and over every day, ' Father am I forgiven,
or no ?' Should not one answer serve his turn ? Will you not be
lieve that your money is in your purse or chest any longer than you
are looking on it? Or that your corn is growing on your land, or
your cattle in your grounds, any longer than you are looking on
them? By this course a rich man should have no more content
than a beggar, longer than he is looking on his money, or goods, or
lands ; and when he is looking on one, he should again lose the
comfort of all the rest. What hath God given you a memory for,
but to lay up former apprehensions, and discoveries, and experi
ences, and make use of them on all meet occasions afterwards ?
Let me therefore persuade you to this great and necessary work.
When God hath once resolved your doubts, and shewed you the
truth of your faith, love or obedience, write it down, if you can, in
your book, (as I have advised you in my Treatise of Rest,) ' Such
a day, upon serious perusal of my heart, I found it thus and thus

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 475
with myself.' Or at least, write it deep in your memory ; and do
not suffer any fancies, or fears, or light surmises, to cause you to
question this again, as long as you fall not from the obedience or
faith which you then discovered. Alas ! man's apprehension is a
most mutable thing ! If you leave your soul open to every new
apprehension, you will never be settled : you may think two con
trary things of yourself in an hour. You have not always the same
opportunity for right discerning, nor the same clearness of appre
hension, nor the same outward means to help you, nor the same
inward assistance of the Holy Ghost. When you have these,
therefore, make use of them, and fix your wavering soul, and take
your question and doubt as resolved, and do not tempt God, by
calling him to new answers again and again, as if he had given you
no answer before. You will never want some occasion of jealousy
and fears as long as you have corruption in your heart, and sin in
your life, and a tempter to be troubling you ; but if you will suffer
any such wind to shake your peace and comforts, you will be al
ways shaking and fluctuating, as a wave of the sea. And you must
labor to apprehend not only the uncomfortableness, but the sinful
ness also of this course. For though the questioning your own sin
cerity on every small occasion, be not near so great a sin as the
questioning of God's merciful nature, or the truth of his promise,
or his readiness to shew mercy to the penitent soul, or the freeness
and fulness of the covenant of grace ; yet even this is no contempt
ible sin. For, 1 . You are doing Satan's work, in denying God's
graces, and accusing yourself falsely, and so pleasing the devil in
disquieting yourself. 2. You slander God's Spirit as well as your
own soul, in saying, he hath not renewed and sanctified you, when
he hath. 3. This will necessitate you to further unthankfulness,
for who can be thankful for a mercy, that thinks he never received
it ? 4. This will shut- your mouth against all those praises of God,
and that heavenly, joyful commemoration of his great, unspeakable
love to your soul, which should be the blessed work of "your life.
5. This will much abate your love to God, and your sense of the
love of Christ in dying for you, and all the rest of your graces,
while you are still questioning your interest in God's love. 6. It
will lay such a discouragement on .your soul, as will both destroy

476 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the sweetness of all duties to you (which is a great evil,) and there
by make you backward to them, and heartless in them : you will
have no mind of praying, meditation, or other duties, because all
will seem dark to you, and you will think that every thing makes
against you. 7. You rob all about you of that cheerful, encour
aging example and persuasion which they should have from you,
and byr which you might win many souls to God. And contrarily
you are a discouragement and hindrance to them. I could men
tion many more sinful aggravations of your denying God's graces
in you on every small occasion, which methinks should make you
be very tender of it, if not to avoid unnecessary trouble to yourself,
yet at least to avoid sin against God.
And what I have said of evidences and assurance, I would have
you understand also of your experiences. You must not make use
only at the present of your experiences, but lay ihem up for the
time to come. Nor must you tempt God so far as to expect new
experiences upon every new scruple or doubt of yours, as the Is
raelites expected new miracles in the wilderness, still forgetting the
old. If a scholar should in his studies forget all that he hath read
and learned, and all the resolutions of his doubts which in study he
hath attained, and leave his understanding still as an unwritten paner,
as a receptive of every mutation and new apprehension, and con-
tratry conceit, as if he had never studied the point before, he will
make but a poor proficiency, and have but a fluctuated, unsettled
brain. A scholar should make all the studies of his life to com
pose one entire image of truth in his soul, as a painter makes every
line he draws to compose one entire picture of a man; and as a
weaver makes every thread to compose one web ; so should you
make all former examinations discoveries, evidences, and experi
ences, compose one full discovery of your condition, that so you
may have a settled peace of soul : and see that you tie both ends
together, and neither look on your present troubled state without
your former, lest you be unthankful, and unjustly discouraged ; nor
on your former state without observance of your present frame of
heart and life, lest you deceive yourself, or grow secure. O that
you could well observe this Direction ! How much would it help
you to escape extremes, and conduce to the settlins of a well-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 477
grounded peace, and at once to the well ordering of your whole
conversation !
Direct. XXVIII. Be very careful that you create not perplexi
ties and terrors in your own soul, by rash misinterpretations of any
passages either of Scripture, of God's providence, or of the ser
mons or private speedies of ministers : but resolve with patience,
yea, with gladness, to suffer preachers to deal with their congrega
tions in the most searching, serious and awakening manner, lest
your weakness should be a wrong to the whole assembly, and pos
sibly the undoing of many a sensual, drowsy or obstinate soul, who
will not be convinced and awakened by a comforting way of preach
ing, or by any smoother or gentler means.'
Here are three dangerous enemies to your peace, which (for
brevity) I warn you of together.
1. Rash misinterpretations and misapplications of Scripture.
Some weak-headed, troubled Christians can scarce read a chapter,
or hear one read, but they will find something which they think doth
condemn them. If they read of God's wrath and judgment, they
think it is meant against them. If they read, "Our God is a con
suming fire," they think presently it is themselves that must be the
fuel ; whereas justice and mercy have each their proper objects ;
the burning fire will not waste the gold, nor is water the fuel of it ;
but combustible matter it will presently consume. A humble soul
that lies prostrate at Christ's feet, confessing its unworthiness, and
bewailing its sinfulness, this is not the object of revenging justice ;
such a soul bringing Christ's mercies, and pleading them with God,
is so far from being the fuel of this consuming fire, that he bringeth
that water which will undoubtedly quench it. Yet this Scripture
expression of our God, may subdue carnal security even in the best,
but not dismay them or discourage them in their hopes. Another
reads in Psalm 1. "I will set thy sins in order before thee;" and
he thinks, certainly God will deal thus by him, not considering that
God chargeth only their sins upon them that charge them not by
true repentance on themselves, and accept not of Christ who hath
discharged them by his blood. It is the excusers, and mincers,
and defenders of sin, that love not those that reprove them, and
that will not avoid them, or the occasions of them, that would not

478 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
be reformed, and will not be persuaded, in whose souls iniquity
hath dominion, and that delight in it, it is these on whom God
chargeth their sins : " For this is the condemnation, that light is
come into the world, and men love darkness rather than light ; and
come not to the light, lest their deeds should be reproved ;" John
iii. 20, 21. But for the soul that trembleth at God's word, and
comes home to God with shame and sorrow, resolving to return no
more to wickedness, God is so far from charging his sins upon him,
that he never mentioneth them, as I told you, is evident in the case
of the prodigal. He makes not a poor sinner's burden more heavy
by hitting him in the teeth with his sins, but makes it the office of
his Son to ease him by disburdening him.
Many more texts might be named (and perhaps it would not be
lost labor) which troubled souls do misunderstand and misapply ;
but it would make this writing tedious, which is already swelled so
far beyond my first intention.
2. The second enemy of your peace here mentioned, is Misun
derstanding and misapplying passages of providence. Nothing
more common with troubled souls, than upon every new cross and
affliction that befals them, presently to think, God takes them for
hypocrites ; and to question their sincerity ! As if David and Job
had not left them a full warning against this temptation. Do you
lose your goods? So did Job. Do you lose your children ? So
did Job ; and that in no very comfortable way. Do you lose your
health? So did Job. What if your godly friends should come
about you in this case, and bend all their wits and speeches to per
suade yor that you are but a hypocrite, as Job's friends did by him,
would not this put you harder to it ? Yet could Job resolve, " I will
not let go mine integrity till I die." I know God's chastisements
are all paternal punishments ; and that Christians should search and
try their hearts and ways at such limes ; but not conclude that they
are graceless ever the more for being afflicted, seeing God chasten-
eth every son whom he receiveth ; Heb. xii. 6, 7. And in search
ing after sin itself in your afflictions, be sure that you make the
word, and not your sufferings, the rule to discover how far you have
sinned; and let afflictions only quicken you to try by the word.
How many a soul have I known that by misinterpreting providences,

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 479
have in a blind jealousy, been turned quite from truth and duty,
supposing it had been error and sin ; and all because of their afflic
tions. As a foolish man in his sickness accuseth the last meat thai
he eat before he fell sick, though it might be the wholesomest that
ever he eat, and the disease may have many causes which he is ig
norant of. One man being sick, a busy seducing Papist comes to
him (for it is their use to take such opportunities) and tells him,
' It is God's hand upon you for forsaking or straying from the Ro
man Catholic Church, and God hath sent this affliction to bring you
home. All your ancestors lived and died in this church, and so
must you if ever you will be saved.' The poor, jealous, affrighted
sinner hearing this, and through his ignorance being unable to an
swer him, thinks it even true, and presently turns Papist. In the
same manner do most other sects. How many have the Antino-
mians and Anabaptists thus seduced ! ¦ Finding a poor silly woman
(for it is most commonly with them) to be under sad doubts and
distress of soul, one tells her, ' It is God's hand on you to convince
you of error, and to bring you to submit to the ordinance of bap
tism ;' and upon this many have been rebaptised, and put their foot
into the snare which I have yet seen few escape and draw back
from. Another comes and tells the troubled soul, ' It is legal
preaching, and looking at something in yourself for peace and com
fort, which hath brought you to this distress : as long as you follow
these legal preachers, and read their books, and look at any thing
in yourself, and seek assurance from marks within you, it will nev
er be better with you. These preachers understand not the nature
of free grace, nor ever tasted it themselves, and therefore they can
not preach it, but despise it. You must know that grace is so free
that the covenant hath no condition : you must believe, and not look
after the marks. And believing is but to be persuaded that God is
reconciled to you, and hath forgiven you ; for you were justified
before you were born, if you are one of the elect, and can but be
lieve it. It is not any thing of your own, by which you can be jus
tified ; nor is it any sin of yours that can unjustify. It is the wit
ness of the Spirit only persuading you of your justification and
adoption, that can give you assurance ; and fetching it from any
thing in yourself, is but a resting on your own righteousness, and

480 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
forsaking Christ.' When the Antinomian hath but sung this igno
rant charm to a poor soul as ignorant as himself, and prepared by
terrors to entertain the impression, presently it (oft) takes, and the
sinner without a wonder of mercy is undone. This doctrine, which
subverteth the very scope ofthe Gospel, being entertained, subvert
ed] his faith and obedience ; and usually the libertinism of his opin
ion is seen in his liberty of conscience, and licentious practices ;
and his trouble of mind is cured, as a burning fever by opium,
which give him such a sleep, that he never awaketh till he be in
another world. Yet these errors are so gross, and so fully against
the express texts of Scripture, that if ministers would condescend
ingly, lovingly and familiarly deal with them and do their duty, I
should hope many well meaning souls might be recovered. Thus
you see the danger of rash interpreting, and so misinterpreting
providences. As such interpretations of prosperity and success
delude not only the Mahometan world, and the profane world, but
many that seemed godly, so many such interpretations of adversi
ty and crosses do ; especially if the seducer be but kind and liberal
to relieve them in their adversity, he may do with many poor souls
almost what he please.
3. The third enemy to your peace here mentioned, is, Misin
terpreting or misapplying the passages of preachers in their ser
mons, writings or private speeches. A minister cannot deal tho
roughly or seriously with any sort of sinners, but some fearful, trou
bled souls apply all to themselves. I must entreat you to avoid
this fault, or else you will turn God's ordinances and the daily food
of your souls, into bitterness and wormwood, and all through your
mistakes. I think there are few ministers so preach, but you might
perceive whom they mean, and they so difference as to tell you
who they speak to. I confess it is a better sign of an honest heart
and self-judging conscience, to say, ' He speaks now lo me, this
is my case ;' than to say, He speaks now to such or such a one,
this is their case.' For it is the property of hypocrites to have
their eye most abroad, and in every duty to be minding most the
faults of others : and you may much discern such in their prayers,
in that they will fill their confessions most with other men's sins,
and you may feel them all the while in the bosom of their neigh-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 481
bors, when you may even feel a sincere man speaking his own
heart, and most opening his own bosom to God. But though self-
applying and self-searching be far the better sign, yet must not any
wise Christian do it mistakingly : for that may breed abundance of
very sad effects. For besides the aforesaid embittering of God's
ordinances to you, and so discouraging you from them, do but
consider what a grief and a snare you may prove to your min-
siter. A grief it must needs be to him who knows he should not
make sad the soul of the innocent, to think that he cannot avoid it
without avoiding his duty. When God hath put two several mes
sages in our mouths ; " Say to the righteous, it shall be well with
him ;" and " Say to the wicked it shall be ill with him ;" Isaiah.
iii. 10, 11. " He that believeth shall be saved ; he that believeth
not shall be damned ;" and we speak both ; will you take that as
spoken to you, which is spoken to the unbeliever and the wicked ?
Alas, how is it possible then for us to forbear troubling you ? If
you will put your head under every stroke that we give against sin
and sinners, how can we help it if you smart ? What a sad case
are we in by such misapplications ! We have but two messages
to deliver, and both are usually lost by misapplications. The wick
ed saith, ' I am the righteous, and therefore it shall go well with
me.' The righteous saith, ' 1 am the wicked, and therefore it
shall go ill with me.' The unbeliever saith, ' I am a believer, and
therefore am justified.' The believer saith, ' I am an unbe
liever, and therefore am condemned.' Nay, it is not only the loss
of our preaching, hut we oft do them much harm ; for they are
hardened that should be humbled ; and they are wounded more
that should be healed. A minister must now needs tell them who
he means by the believer, and who by the unbeliever ; who by the
righteous, and who by the wicked : and yet when he hath done
it as accurately, and as cautelously as he can, misapplying souls
will wrong themselves by it. So that because people cannot see
the distinguishing line, it therefore comes to pass, that few are com
forted but when ministers preach nothing else but comfort ; and
few humbled, but where ministers bend almost all their endeavors
that way, that people can feel almost nothing else from him. But
for him that equally would divide to each their portion, each one
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482 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
snatcheth up the part of another, and he oft misseth of profiting
either ; and yet this is the course that we must take.
And what a snare is this to us ; as well as a grief ! What if we
should be so moved wnth compassion of your troubles, as to fit al
most all our doctrine and application to you, what a fearful guilt
should we draw upon our own souls !
Nay, what a snare may you thus prove to the greater part of
the congregation! Alas, we have seldom past one, or two, or
three troubled consciences in an auditory, (and perhaps some of
their troubles be the fruit of such wilful sinning, that they have
more need of greater, yet) should we now neglect all the rest of
these poor souls, to preach only to you ? O how many an igno
rant hardhearted sinner comes before God every day ! Shall we
let such go away as they came, without ever a blow to awaken
them and stir their hearts, when, alas, all that ever we can do is
too little ! When we preach you into tears and trembling, we
preach them asleep ! Could we speak words, it would scarce
make them feel, when you through misapplication have gone home
with anguish and fears. How few of all these have been pricked
at the heart, and said, " What shall we do to be saved ?" Have
you no pity now on such stupid souls as these ? I fear this one
distemper of yours, that you cannot bear this rousing preaching,
doth betray another and greater sin ; look to it, I beseech you, for
I think I have spied out the cause of your trouble ; are you not
yourself too great a stranger to poor stupid sinners ? and come not
among them? or pity them not as you should ? And do not your duty
for the saving of their souls ; but think it belongs not to you but to
others? Do you use to deal with servants and neighbors about you,
and tell them of sin and misery, and the remedy, and seek to draw
their hearts to Christ, and bring them to duty ? I doubt you do
little in this ; (and that is sad unmercifulness ;) for if you did, truly
you could not choose but find such miserable ignorance, such sense
lessness and blockishness, such hating reproof and unwillingness to
be reformed, such love of this world, and slavery to the flesh, and
and so little favor of Christ, grace, heaven, and the things of the
Spirit, and especially such an unteachableness, untractableness
(as thorns and briars) and so great a difficulty moving them an inch

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 483
from what they are, that you would have been willing ever after to
have ministers preach more rousingly than they do, and you would
be glad for their sakes, when you heard that which might awake
them and prick them to the heart. Yea, if you had tried how hard
a work it is to bring worldly, formal hypocrites to see their hypocri
sy, or to come over to Christ from the creature, and to be in good
earnest in the business of their salvation, you would be glad to have
preachers search them to the quick, and ransack their hearts, and
help them against their affected and obstinate self-delusions.
Besides, you should consider that their case is far different from
yours ; your disease is pain and trouble, they are stark dead : you
have God's favor and doubt of it, they are his enemies and never
suspect it : you want comfort, and they want pardon and life : if
your disease should never here be cured, it is but going more sad
ly to heaven, but if they be not recovered by regeneration, they
must lie forever in hell. And should we not then pity them more
than you ; and study more for them ; and preach more for them ;
aud rather forget you in a sermon than them ? Should you not
wish us so to do? Should we more regard the comforting of one,
than the saving of a hundred ? Nay more, we should not only
neglect them, but dangerously hurt them, if we should preach too
much to the case of troubled souls ; for you are not so apt to mis
apply passages of terror, and to take their portion, as they are apt
to apply to themselves such passages for comfort, and take your
portion to themselvs.
I know some will say, that it is preaching Christ, and setting
forth Ged's love, that will win them best, and terrors do but make
unwilling, hypocritical professors. This makes me remember how
I have heard some preachers of the times, blame their brethren for
not preaching Christ to their people, when they preached the dan
ger of rejecting Christ, disobeying him, and resisting his Spirit.
Do these men think that it is no preaching Christ (when we have
first many years told men the fulness of his satisfaction, the free-
ness and general extent of his covenant or promise, and the riches
of his grace, and the incomprehensibleness of his glory, and the
truth of all) to tell them afterwards the danger of refusing, neglect
ing and disobeying him ; and of living after the flesh, and prefer-

484 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ing the World before him; and serving mammon, and falling off m
persecution, and avoiding the cross, and yielding in temptation,
and quenching the Spirit, and declining from their first love, and
not improving their talents, and not forgiving and loving their breth
ren, yea, and enemies ? he. Is none of this Gospel ? nor preach
ing Christ ? Yea, is not repentance itself (except despairing re
pentance) proper to the Gospel, seeing the law excludeth it, and
all manner of hope ? Blame me not, reader, if I be zealous against
these men, that not only know no better what preaching Christ is, but
in their ignorance reproach their brethren for not preaching Christ,
and withal condemn Christ himself and all his apostles. Do they
think that Christ himself knew not what it was to preach Christ ?
Or that he set us a pattern too low for our imitation ? I desire them
soberly to read Matt. v. vi. vii. x. xxv. Rom. viii. iv. from the
first verse to the fourteenth. Rom. ii. Heb. ii. iv. v. x. and then
tell me whether we preach as Christ and his apostles did. But to
the objection ; I answer, 1 . We do set forth God's love, and the
fullness of Christ, and the sufficiency of his death and satisfaction
for all, and the freeness and extent of his offer and promise of mer
cy, and his readiness to welcome returning sinners : this we do
first (mixing with this the discovery of their natural misery by sin,
which must be first known ;) and next we shew them the danger of
rejecting Christ and his office. 2. When we find men settled un
der the preaching of free grace, in a base contempt or sleepy neg
lect of it, preferring the world and their carnal pleasures and ease,
before all the glory of heaven, and riches of Christ and grace, is it
not time for us to say, " How shall ye escape, if ye neglect so
great salvation ?" Heb. ii. 3. " And of how much sorer punish
ment shall he be thought worthy, that treads under foot the blood
of the covenant ?" Heb. x. 26. When men grow careless and
unbelieving, must we not say, " Take heed lest a promise being
left of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short
of it?" Heb. iv. 1. 3. Hath not Christ led us, commanded us,
and taught us this way ? " Except ye repent, ye shall all perish,'-
was his doctrine ; Luke xiii. 3. 5. " Go into all the world, and
preach the Gospel to every creature :" (what is that Gospel ?)
" He that believeth shall be saved, and he believeth not shall be

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 485
damned ;" Mark'xvi. 16. " Those mine enemies that would not
I should reign over them, bring hither and slay them before me ;"
Luke xix27. Doth any of the apostles speak more of hell-fire,
and the worm that never dieth, and the fire that never is quenched,
than Christ himself doth ? And do not his apostles go the same
way ; even Paul, the great preacher of faith ? (2 Thess. i. 7 — 9.
ii. 12, &c.) What more common ? Alas, what work should we
make, if we should stroke and smooth all men with Antinomian
language ? It were the way to please all the sensual, profane mul
titude, but it is none of Christ's way to save their souls. I am
ready to think that these men would have Christ preached as the
Papists would have him prayed to ; to say, ' Jesu, Jesu, Jesu,' nine
times together, and this oft over, is their praying to him ; and to
have Christ's name oft in the preacher's mouth, some men think is
the right preaching Christ.
Let me now desire you hereafter, to be glad to hear ministers
awaken the profane and dead-hearted hearers, and search all to
the quick, and misapply nothing to yourself; but if you think any
passage doth nearly concern you, open your mind to the minister
privately, when he may satisfy you more fully, and that without do
ing hurt to others : and consider what a strait ministers are in, that
have so many of so different conditions, inclinations, and conversa
tions to preach to.
Direct. XXIX. ' Be sure you forget not to distinguish between
causes of doubting of your sincerity, and causes of mere humilia
tion, repentance, and amendment ; and do not raise doubtings and
fears, where God calleth you but to humiliation, amendment, and
fresh recourse to Christ.'
» This rule is of so great moment to your peace, that you will have
daily use for it, and can never maintain any true settled peace
without the practice of it. What more common than for poor
Christians to pour out a multitude of complaints of their weak
nesses, and wants, and miscarriages ; and never consider all the
while that there may be cause of sorrow in these, when yet there
is no cause of doubting of their sincerity. I have shewed before,
that in gross falls and great backslidings, doubtings will arise, and
sometimes our fears and jealousies may not be without cause ; but

486 DIRECTIOiNS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
it is not ordinary infirmities, nor every sin which might have been
avoided, that is just cause of doubting ; nay, your very humiliation
must no further be endeavored than it tends to your recovery, and
to the honoring of mercy : for it is possible that you may exceed
in the measure of your griefs. You must therefore first be resol
ved, wherein the truth of saving grace doth consist, and then in all
your failings and weaknesses first know, whether they contradict
sincerity in itself, and are such as may give just cause to question
your sincerity : if they be not (as the ordinary infirmities of be
lievers are not,) then you may and must be humbled for them, but
you may not doubt of your salvation for them. I told you before
by what marks you may discern your sincerity ; that is, wherein the
nature of saving faith and holiness doth consist ; keep that in your
eye, and as long as you find that sure and clear, let nothing make
you doubt of your right to Christ and glory. But, alas ! how peo
ple do contradict the will of God in this ! When you have sinned,
God would have you bewail your folly and unkind dealing, and fly
to mercy through Christ, and this you will not do ; but he would not
have you torment yourselves with fears of damnation, and ques
tioning his love, and yet this you will do. You may discern by
this, that humiliation and reformation are sure of God, man's heart
is so backward to it ; and that vexations, doubts and fears in true
Christians that should be comfortable, are not of God, man's nature
is so prone to them (though the ungodly that should fear and doubt,
are as backward to it.)
I think it will not be unseasonable here to lay down the particu
lar doubts that usually trouble sincere believers, and see how far
they may be just, and how far unjust and causeless ; and most of
them shall be from my own former experience ; and such as I have
been most troubled with myself, and the rest such as are incident to
true Christians, and too usual with them.
Doubt. 1. 'I have often heard and read in the best divines, that
grace is not born with us, and therefore Satan hath always posses
sion before Christ, and keeps that possession in peace, till Christ
come and bind him and cast him out ; and that this is so great a
work that it cannot choose but be observed, and forever remem-
ibered by the soul where it is wrought ; yea, the several steps and

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 487
passages of it may be all observed: first casting down, and then
lifting up; first wounding and killing, and then healing and revi
ving. But I have not observed the distinct parts and passages of
this change in me, nay, I know of no such sudden observable change
at all: I cannot remember that ever I was first killed, and then re
vived : nor do I know by what minister, nor at what sermon, or
other means that work which is upon me was wrought : no, nor
what day, or month, or year it was begun. I have slided insensi
bly into a profession of religion, I know not how ; and therefore I
fear that I am not sincere, and the work of true regeneration was
never yet wrought upon my soul.'
Ansiv. I will lay down the full answer to this, in these proposi
tions. 1 . It is true that grace is not natural to us, or conveyed by
generation. 2. Yet it is as true that grace is given to our children
as well as to us. That it may be so, and is so with some, all will
grant who believe that infants may be, and are saved : and that it
is so with the infants of believers, I have fully proved in my Book
of Baptism ; but mark what grace I mean. The grace of remis
sion of original sin, the children of all true believers have at least a
high probability of, if not a full certainty ; their parent accepting it
for himself and them, and dedicating them to Christ, and engaging
them in his covenant, so that he takes them for his people, and they
take him for their Lord and Saviour. And for the grace of in
ward renewing of their natures or disposition, it is a secret to us
utterly unknown whether God use to do it in infants or no. 3.
God's first ordained way for the working of inward holiness is by
parents' education of their children, and not by the public ministry
ofthe word; of which more anon. 4. All godly parents do ac
quaint their children with the doctrine of Christ in their infancy, as
soon as they are capable of receiving it, and do afterwards incul
cate it on them more and more. 5. These instructions of parents
are usually seconded by the workings of the Spirit, according to
the capacity of the child, opening their understandings to receive
it, and making an impression thereby upon the heart. 6. When
these instructions and inward workings of the Spirit are just past
the preparatory part, and above the highest step of common grace,
and have attained to special saving grace, is ordinarily undiscerni-

4S8 DIRECTIONS FOP. GETTING AND KEEPING
ble : and therefore, as I have shewed already, in God's usual way
of working grace, men cannot know the just day or time when they
began to be in the state of grace. And diough men that have long
lived in profaneness, and are changed suddenly, may conjecture
near at the time ; yet those that God hath been working on early
in their youth, yea, or afterwards by slow degrees, cannot know
the time of their first receiving the Spirit. 8. The memories of
all men are so slippery, and one thought so suddenly thrust out by
another, that many a thousand souls forget those particular work
ings which they have truly felt. 9. The memories of children are
far weaker dian of others ; and therefore it is less probable that all
the Spirit's workings should by them be remembered. 10. And
the motions of grace are so various, sometimes stirring one affec
tion, and sometimes another, sometimes beginning with smaller mo
tions, and then moving more strongly and sensibly, that is is usual
for later motions which are more deeply affecting, to make us over
look all the former, or take them for nothing. 1 1 . God dealeth
very variously with his chosen in their conversion, as to the acci
dentals and circumstantials of the work. Some he calleth not home
till they have run a long race in the way of rebellion, in open
drunkenness, swearing, worldliness and derision of holiness : these
he usually humbleth more deeply, and they can better observe the
several steps of the Spirit in the work ; (and yet not always nei
ther.) Others he so restraineth in their youth, that though they
have not saving grace, yet they are not guilty of any gross sins, but
have a liking to the people and ways of God : and yet he doth not
savingly convert them till long after. It is much harder for these
to discern the time or manner of their conveision ; yet usually some
conjectures they may make: and usually their humiliation is not
so deep. Others, as is said, have the saving workings of the
Spirit in their very childhood, and these can least of all discern the
certain time or order. The ordinary way of God's dealing with
those that are children of godly parents, and have good education,
is, by giving them some liking of godly persons and ways, some con
science of sin, some repentance and recourse by prayer to God in
Christ for mercy ; j et youthful, lusts and folly, and ill company, do
usually much stifle it, till at last, by some affliction, or sermon, or

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 489
book, or good company, God setteth home the work, and maketh
them more resolute and victorious Christians. These persons now
can remember that they had convictions, and stirring consciences
when they were young, and the other forementioned works, perhaps
they can remember some more notable rousings and awakenings
long after, and perhaps they have had many such fits and steps,
and the work hath stood at this pass for a long time, even many
years together. But at which of all these changes it was that the
soul began to be savingly sincere, I think is next to an impossibility
to discern. According to that experience which I have had of the
state of Christians, I am forced to judge tbe most of the children
of the godly that ever are renewed, are renewed in their childhood,
or much towards it then done, and that among forty Christians there
is not one that can certainly name the month in which his soul first
began to be sincere ; and among a thousand Christians, I think not
not one can name the hour. The sermon which awakened them,
they may name, but not the hour when they first arrived at a saving
sincerity. My advice therefore to all Christians, is this : Find Christ by
his Spirit dwelling in your hearts, and then never trouble your
selves, though you know not the time or manner of his entrance.
Do you value Christ above the world, and resolve to choose him
before the world, and perform these resolutions ? Then need you
not doubt but the Spirit of Jesus is victorious in you.
Doubt 2. ' But I have oft read and heard, that a man cannot
come to Christ till he feel the heavy burden of sin. It is the
weary and heavy-laden that Christ calleth to him. He bindethup
only the brokenhearted ; he is a Physician only to those that feel
themselves sick ; he brings men to heaven by the gates of hell.
They must be able to say, I am in a lost condition, and in a state
of damnation, and if I should die this hour I must perish forever,
before Christ will deliver them. God will throw away the blood
of his son on those that feel not their absolute necessity of it, and
that they are undone without it. But it was never thus with me to
this day.'
Answ. 1 . You must distinguish carefully between repentance as
it is in the mind and will, and as it shews itself in the passion of
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490 .DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
sorrow. All that have saving interest in Christ, have their judg
ments and wills so far changed, that they know that they are sin
ners, and that there is no way to the obtaining of pardon and salva
tion but by Christ, and the free mercy of God in him ; and thereupon
they are convinced that if they remain without the grace of Christ
they are undone forever. Whereupon they understanding that
Christ, and mercy is offered to them in the gospel, do heartily and
thankfully accept the offer, and would not be without Christ, or
change their hopes of his grace for all the world, and do resolve to
wait upon him for the further discovery of his mercy, and the work
ings of his Spirit, in a constant and conscionable use of hismeans,
and to be ruled by him, to their power. Is it not thus with you ? If it
be, here is the life and substance of repentance, which consisted!
in this change of the mind and heart, and you have no cause to
doubt of the truth of it, for want of more deep and passionate hu
miliation. 2. I have told you before, how uncertain and inconstant
the passionate effects of grace are, and how unfit to judge by, and
given you several reasons of it. Yet I doubt not but some work
upon the affections there is, as well as on the will and understand
ing; but with so great diversity of manner and degrees, that it is
not safe judging by it only or chiefly. Is there no degree of sor
row or trouble that hath touched your heart for your sin or misery ?
If your affections were no whit stirred, you would hardly be moved
to action, to use means, or avoid iniquity, much less would you so
oft complain as you do. 3. If God prevented those heinous sins
in the time of your unregeneracy, which those usually are guilty of
who are called to so deep a degree of sorrow, you should rather be
thankful that your wound was not deeper, than troubled that the
cure cost you no dearer. Look well whether the cure be wrought
in the change of your heart and life from the world to God by
Christ, and then you need not be troubled that it was wrought so
easily. 4. Were you not acquainted with the evil of sin, and dan
ger and misery of sinners, in your very childhood, and also of the
necessity of a Saviour, and that Christ died to save all sinners that
will believe and repent ? And hath not this fastened on your heart,
and been working in you by degrees ever since ? If it be so, then
you cannot expect that you should have such deep terrors as those

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT- 491
that never hear of sin and Christ till the news come upon them
suddenly in the ripeness of their sin. There is a great deal of dif
ference betwixt the conversion of a Jew, or any other infidel, who
is brought on the sudden to know the doctrine of sin, misery and
salvation by Christ ; and the conversion of a professor of the Chris
tian religion, who hath known this doctrine in some sort from his
childhood, and who hath a sound religion, though he be not sound
in his religion, and so needs not a conversion to a sound faith, but
only a soundness in the faith. The suddenness of the news must
needs make those violent commotions and changes in the one, which
cannot ordinarily be expected in the other, who is acquainted so
early with the truth, and by such degrees. 5. But suppose you
heard nothing of sin and misery, and a Redeemer in your child
hood, or at least understood it not (which yet is unlikely,) yet let
me ask you this : Did not that preacher, or that book, or whatever
other means God used for your conversion, reveal to you misery
and mercy both together ? Did not you hear and believe that
Christ died for sin, as soon as you understood your sin and misery ?
Sure I am that the Scripture reveals both together ; and so doth
every sound preacher, and every sound writer (notwithstanding
that the slanderous Antinomians do shamefully proclaim that we
preach not Christ, but the law.) This being so, you must easily
apprehend that it must needs abate very much ofthe terror, which
would else have been unavoidable. If you had read or heard that
you were a sinner, and the child of hell, and of God's wrath, and
that there was no remedy, (which is such a preaching of the law,
as we must not use to any in the world, nor any since the first
promise to Adam, must receive ;) yea, or if you had heard nothing
of a Saviour for a year, or a day, or an hour after you had heard
that you were an heir of hell, and so the remedy had been but
concealed from you, though not denied (which ordinarily must not
be done,) then you might in all likelihood have found some more
terrors of soul that hour. But when you heard that your sin was
pardonable, as soon as you heard that you were a sinner, and heard
that your misery had a sufficient remedy provided, if you would
accept it, or at least that it was not remediless, and this as soon as
you heard of that misery, what wonder is it if this exceedingly

492 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
abate your fears and troubles! Suppose two men go to visit two
several neighbors that have the plague, and one of them saith, ' It is
the plague that is on you ; you are but a dead man.' The other
saith to the other sick person, ' It is the plague that you have ; but
here is our physician at the next door that hath a receipt that will
cure it as infallibly and as easily as if it were but the prick of a
pin, he hath cured thousands, and never failed one that took his
receipt, but if you will not send to him, and trust him, and take his
receipt, there is no hopes of you.' Tell ine now whether the first
of these sick persons be not like to be more troubled than the oth
er? And whether it will not remove almost all the fears and
troubles of the latter, to hear of a certain remedy as soon as he
heareth of the disease ? Though some trouble he must needs have
to think that he hath a disease in itself so desperate or loathsome.
Nay, let me tell you, so the cure be but well done, the less terrors
and despairing fear you were put upon, the more credit is it to your
physician and his apothecary, Christ and the preacher, or instru
ment, that did the work ; and therefore you should rather praise
your physician, than question the cure.
Doubt. 3. ' But it is common with all the world to consent to
the religion that they are bred up in, and somewhat affected with
it, and to make conscience of obeying the precepts of it. So do
the Jews in theirs ; the Mahometans in theirs. And I fear it is no
other work on my soul but the mere force of education, that mak
eth me religious, and that I had never that great renewing work of
the Spirit upon my soul ; and so that all my religion is but mere
opinion, or notions in my brain.'
Answ. 1. All the religions in the world, besides the Christian
religion, have either much error and wickedness mixed with some
truth of God, or they contain some lesser parcel of that truth alone
(as the Jews;) only the. Christian religion hath that whole truth
which is saving. Now so much of God's truth as there is in any
of these religions, so much it may work good effects upon their
souls ; as the knowledge of the Godhead, and that God is holy,
good, just, merciful, and that he sheweth them much undeserved
mercy in his daily providences, &lc But mark these two things,
(1.) That all persons of false religions do more easily and greedily

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 493
embrace the false part of their religion than the true ; and that they
are zealous for, and practice with all their might, because their nat
ural corruption doth befriend it, and is as combustible fuel for the
fire of hell to catch in ; but that truth of God which is mixed with
their error, if it be practical, they fight against it, and abhor it while
they hold it, because it crosseth their lusts, insomuch that it is usu
ally but some few of tbe more convinced and civil that God in
providence maketh the main instrument of continuing those truths
of his in that part of the wicked world. For we find that even
among Pagans, the profaner and more sensual sort did deride tbe
better sort, as our profane Christians do the godly whom they call
ed Puritans. (2.) Note, That the truth of God which in these false
religions is still acknowledged, is so small a part, and so oppressed
by errors, that it is not sufficient to their salvation (that is, to give
them any sound hope,) nor is it sufficient to make such clear, and
deep, and powerful impressions in their minds, as may make them
holy or truly heavenly, or may overcome in them the interest of the
world and the flesh.
This being so, you may see great reason why a Turk or a hea
then may be zealous for his religion without God's Spirit, or any
true sanctification, when yet you cannot be so truly zealous for
yours without it. Indeed the speculative part of our religion, sep
arated from the practical, or from the hard and self-denying part of
the practical, many a wicked man may be zealous for ; as to maintain
the Godhead, or that God is merciful, he. Or to maintain against
the Jews that Jesus is the Christ ; or against the Turks, that he is
the only Redeemer and teacher of the church ; or against the Pa
pists, that all the Christians in the world are Christ's church as well
as the Romans ; and against the Socinians and Arians that Christ
is God, &c. But this is but a small part of our religion ; nor doth
this, or any heathenish zeal, sanctify the heart, or truly mortify the
flesh, or overcome the world. They may contemn life, and cast it
away for their pride and vain-glory ; but not for the hopes of a holy
and blessed life with God. This is but the prevalency of one cor
ruption against another, or rather of vice against nature. There is
a common grace of God that goeth along with common truths, and
according to the measure of their obedience to the truth, such was

494 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the change it wrought ; which was done by common truths, and
common grace together, but not by their false mixtures at all. But
God hath annexed his special grace only to the special truths ofthe
Gospel or Christian religion. If therefore God do by common
grace, work a great change on a heathen, by the means of com
mon truths, and do by his special grace work a greater and special
change on you, by the means of the special truths of the Gospel,
have you any reason hereupon to suspect your condition ? Or
should you not rather both admire that providence and common
grace which is manifested without the church, and humbly, rejoic
ingly, and thankfully embrace that special saving grace, which is
manifested to yourself above them ?
2. And for that which you speak of education, you have as much
cause to doubt of your conversion, because it was wrought by pub
lic preaching, as because it was wrought by education. For, 1.
Both are by the Gospel : for it is the Gospel that your parents
taught you, as well as which the preacher teacheth you. 2. 1 have
shewed you, that if parents did not shamefully neglect their duties,
the word publicly preached would not be the ordinary instrument
of regeneration to the children of true Christians, but would only
build them up, and direct them in the faith, and in obedience.
The proof is very plain : If we should speak nothing of the inter
est of our infants in the covenant grace, upon the conditional force
of their parents' faith, nor of their baptism ; yet, Deut. vi. Ephes.
vi. and oft in the Proverbs, you may find, that it is God's strict
command, that parents should teach God's word to their children, and
bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord ; yea,
with a prediction or half promise, that if we " train up a child in
the way he should go, when he is old he shall not depart from it;"
Prov. xxii. 6. Now it is certain that God will usually bless that
which he appointeth to be the usual means, if it be rightly used.
For he hath appointed no means to be used in vain.
I hope therefore by this time you see, that instead of being troubled,
that the work was done on your soul by the means of education :
i. You had more reason to be troubled if it had been done first by
the public preaching of the word ; for it should grieve you at the
heart to think, 1. That you lived in an unregenerate state so long

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 495
and spent your childhood in vanity and sin, and thought not seriously
on God and your salvation, for so many years together. 2. And
that you or your parent's sin should provoke God so long to with
draw his Spirit and deny you his grace, ii. You may see also
what inconceivable thanks you owe to God, who made education
the means ol your early change : 1 . In that he prevented so ma
ny and grievous sins which else you would have been guilty of.
(And you may read in David's and Manasseh's case, that even
pardoned sins have ofttimes very sad effects left behind them.)
2. That you have enjoyed God's Spirit and love so much longer
than else you would have done. 3. That iniquity took not so deep
rooting in you, as by custom it would have done. 4. That the
devil cannot glory of that service which you did him, as else he
might ; and that the church is not so much the worse, as else it
might have been by the mischief you would have done ; and that
you need not all your days look back with so much trouble, as else
you must, upon the effects of your ill doing ; nor with Paul, to
think of one Stephen ; yea, many saints, in whose blood you first
embrued your hands ; and to cry out. ' I was born out of due time.
I am not worthy to be called a Christian, because I persecuted the
church of God. I was mad against them, and persecuted them
into several cities. I was sometimes foolish, disobedient, serving
divers lusts and pleasures.' Would you rather that God had per
mitted you to do this ? 5. And methinks it should be a comfort to
you, that your own father was the instrument of your spiritual
good ; that he that was the means of your generation, was the
means of your regeneration, both because it will be a double com
fort to your parents, and because it will endear and engage you to
them in a double bond. For my part, I know not what God did
secredy in my heart, before I had the use of memory and reason ;
but the first good that ever I felt on my soul, was from the coun
sels and teachings of my own father in my childhood ; and I take
it now for a double mercy, being more glad that he was the instru
ment to do me good, than if it had been the best preacher in the
world. How foul an oversight is it then, that you should be trou
bled at one of the choicest mercies of your life, yea, that your life

496 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
was capable of, and for which you owe to God such abundant
thanks !
Doubt. 4. ' But my great fear is, that the life of grace is not yet
within me, because I am so void of spiritual sense and feeling.
Methinks I am in spiritual things as dead as a block, and my heart
as hard as a rock, or the nether millstone. Grace is a principle of
new life, end life is a principle of sense and motion ; it causeth
vigor and activity. Such should I have in duty, if I had the life
ol grace. But I feel the great curse of a dead heart within me.
God seems to withdraw his quickening Spirit, and to forsake me ;
and to give me up to the hardness of my heart. If I were in cove
nant with him, I should feel the blessing of the covenant within
me ; the hard heart would be taken out of my body, and a heart
of flesh, a soft heart would be given to me. But I cannot weep
one tear for my sins. I can think on the blood of Christ, and of
my bloody sins that caused it, and all will not wring one tear from
mine eyes ; and therefore, I fear, that my soul is yet destitute of
the life of grace.'
Answ. 1. A soft heart consisted] in two things. (1.) That the
will be persuadable, tractable, and yielding to God, and pliable
to his will. (2.) That the affections or passions be somewhat moved
herewithal about spiritual things. Some degree more or less ofthe
latter, doth concur with the former ; but I have told you, that it
is the former, wherein the heart and life of grace doth lie, and
that the latter is very various, and uncertain to try by. Many do
much overlook the Scripture meaning of the word hardheartedness.
Mark it up and down concerning the Israelites, who are so oft
charged by Moses, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and other prophets,
to be hardhearted, or to harden their hearts, or stiffen their necks ;
and you will find that the most usual meaning ofthe Holy Ghost is
this, They were an intractable, disobedient, obstinate people ; or
as the Greek word in the New Testament signifieth, which we of
ten translate unbelieving, they were an unpersuadable people ; no
saying would serve them. They set light by God's commands,
promises, and severest threatenings, and judgments themselves ;
nothing would move diem to forsake their sins, and obey the voice
of God. You shall find that hardness of heart is seldom put for

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT.

497

want of tears, or a melting, weeping disposition ; and never at all
for the want of such tears, where the will is tractable and obedi
ent. I pray you examine yourself then according to this rule.
God offereth his love in Christ, and Christ with all his benefits, to
you. Are you willing to accept them ? He commandeth you to
worship him, and use his ordinances, and love his people, and
others, and to forsake your known iniquities, so far that they may
not have dominion over you. Are you willing to this ? He com
mandeth you to take him for your God, and Christ for your Re
deemer, and stick to him for better and worse, and never forsake
him. Are you willing to do this? If you have a stiff, rebellious
heart, and will not accept of Christ and grace, and will rather let
go Christ than the world, and will not be persuaded from your
known iniquities, but are loath to leave them, and love not to be
reformed, and will not set upon those duties as you are able, which
God requireth, and you are fully convinced of, then are you hard
hearted in the Scripture sense. But if you are glad to have Christ
with all your heart, upon the terms that he is offered to you in the
Gospel, and you do walk daily in the way of duty as you can, and
are willing to pray, and willing to hear and wait on God in his or
dinances, and willing to have all God's graces formed within you,
and willing to let go your most profitable and sweetest sins, and it
is your daily desires, O that I could seek God, and do his will
more faithfully, zealously, and pleasingly than I do ! O that I
were rid of this body of sin ; these carnal, corrupt, and worldly
inclinations! And that I were as holy as the best of God's saints on
earth ! And if when it comes to practice, whether you should
obey or no, though some unwillingness to duty, and willingness to
sin be in you, you are offended at it, and the greater bent of your
will is for God, and it is but the lesser which is towards sin, and
therefore the world and flesh do not lead you captive, and you live
not wilfully in avoidable sins, nor at all in gross sin ! I say, if it be
thus with you, then you have the blessing of a soft heart, a heart
of flesh, a new heart ; for it is a willing, obedient, tractable heart,
opposed to obstinacy in sin, which Scripture calleth a soft heart.
And then for the passionate part; which consisteth in lively feelings
of sin, misery, mercy, he. and in weeping for sin I shall sav but
Vol. I. 63

498 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
this : 1. Many an unsanctified person hath very much of it, which
yet are desperately hardhearted sinners. It dependeth far more
on the temper of the body, than of the grace in the soul. Women
usually can weep easily (and yet not all,) and children, and old
men. Some complexions incline to it, and others not. Many can
weep at a passion-sermon, or any. moving duty, and yet will not be
persuaded to obedience ; these are hardhearted sinners for all their
tears. 2. Many a tender, godly person cannot weep for sin, part
ly through the temper of their minds, which are more judicious and
solid, and less passionate ; but mostly from the temper of their
bodies, which dispose them not that way. 3. Deepest sorrows
seldom cause tears, but deep thoughts of heart ; as greatest joys
seldom cause laughter, but inward pleasure. 1 will tell you how
you shall know whose heart is truly sorrowful for sin, and tender ;
he that would be at the greatest cost or pains to be rid of sin, or
that he had not sinned. You cannot weep for sin, but you would
give all that you have to be rid of sin ; you could wish when you
dishonored God by sin, that you had spent that time in suffering
rather; and if it were to do again on the same terms and induce
ments, you would not do it ; nay, you would live a beggar con
tentedly, so you might fully please God, and never sin against
him ; and are content to pinch your flesh, and deny your worldly
interest for the time to' come, rather than wilfully disobey. This
is a truly tender heart. On the other side, another can weep to
think of his sin ; and yet if you should ask him, What wouldst thou
give, or what wouldst thou suffer, so thou hadst not sinned, or that
thou mightest sin no more ? Alas, very little. For the next time
that he is put to it, he will rather venture on the sin, than venture
on a little loss, or danger, or disgrace in the world, or deny his
craving flesh its pleasures. This is a hardhearted sinner. The
more you would part with to be rid of sin, or the greatest cost you
would be at for that end, the more repentance have you, and true
tenderness of heart. Alas, if men should go to heaven according
to their weeping, what abundance of children and women would
be. there for one man ! I will speak truly my own case. This
doubt lay heavy many a year on my own soul, when yet I would
have given all that I had to be rid of sin, but I could not weep a

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 499
tear for if. Nor could I weep for the death of my dearest friends,
when yet I would have bought their lives, had it been God's will,
at a dearer rate than many that could weep for them ten times as
much. And now since my nature is decayed, and my body lan
guished in consuming weakness, and my head more moistened,
and my veins filled with phlegmatic, watery blood, now I can weep ;
and I find never the more tenderheartedness in myself than before.
And yet to this day so much remains of my old disposition, that I
could wring all the money out of my purse, easier than one tear
out of my eyes, to save a friend, or rescue them from evil : when
I see divers that can weep for a dead friend, that would have been
at no great cost to save their lives. 5. Besides, as Dr. Sibbs saith,
" There is oft sorrow for sin in us, when it doth not appear ; it
wanteth but some "quickening word to set it a foot." It is the na
ture of grief to break out into tears most, when sorrow hath some
vent; either when we use some expostulating, aggravating terms
with ourselves, or when we are opening our hearts and case to a
friend ; then sorrow will often shew itself that did not before.
6. Yet do I not deny, but that our want of tears, and tender af
fections, and heartmeltings, are our sins. For my part, I see ex
ceeding cause to bewail it greatly in myself, that my soul is not rais
ed to a higher pitch of tender sensibility of all spiritual things than
it is. I doubt not but it should be the matter of our daily confes
sion and complaint to God, that our hearts are so dull and little af
fected with his sacred truths, and our own sins. But this is the
scope of all my speech, Why do not you distinguish between mat
ter of sorrow, and matter of doubting ? No question but you should
lament your dulness and stupidity, and use all God's means for the
quickening of your affections, and to get the most lively frame of
soul ; but must it cause you to doubt of your sincerity, when you
cannot obtain this ? Then will you never have a settled peace or
assurance for many days together, for aught I know. I would
ask you but this, whether you are willing or unwilling of all that
hardness, insensibleness,'and dulness which you complain of? If
you are willing of it, what makes you complain of it ? If you are
unwilling, it seems your will is so far sound ; and it is the will
that is the seal of the life of grace, which we must try by. And

500 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
was not Paul's case the same with yours, when he saith, " The
good which I would do, I do not ; and when I would do good,
evil is present with me ;" Rom. vii. 19. I know Paul speaks not
of gross sins, but ordinary infirmities. And I have told you before,
that the liveliness and sensibility of the passions or affections, is a
thing that the will, though sanctified, cannot fully command or ex
cite at its pleasure. A sanctified man cannot grieve or weep for sin
when he will, or so much as he-will. He cannot love, joy, be
zealous, he. when he will. He may be truly willing, and not able.
And is not this your case ? And doth not Paul make it the case of
all Christians ? " The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the
Spirit against the flesh, and these are contrary one to the other, so
that we cannot do the things that we would ;" Gal. v. 17. Take
my counsel therefore in this, if you love not self-deceiving and dis
quietness. Search whether you can say unfeignedly, ' I would
with all my heart have Christ and his quickening and sanctifying
Spirit, and his softening grace, to bring my hard heart to tender
ness, and my dull and blockish soul to a lively frame ! 0 that I
I could attain it ?' And if you can truly say thus, Bless God that
hath given you saving sincerity ; and then let all the rest of your
dulness, and deadness, and hardheartedness be matter of daily
sorrow to you, and spare not, so it be in moderation, but let it be
no matter of doubting. Confess it, complain of it, pray against it,
and strive against it ; but do not deny God's grace in you for it.
And here let me mind you of one thing,! That it is a very ill
distemper of spirit, when a man can mourn for nothing, but what
causeth him to doubt of his salvation. It is a great corruption, if
when your doubts are resolved, and you are persuaded of your sal
vation, if then you cease all your humiliation and sorrow for your
sin ; for you must sorrow that you have in you such a body of
death, and that which is so displeasing to God, and are able to
please and enjoy him no more, though you were never so certain
of the pardon of sin, and of salvation.
7. Lasdy, Let me ask you one question more ; What is the
reason that you are so troubled for want of tears for your sin ?
Take heed lest there lie some- corruption in this trouble that you
do not discern. If it be only because your deadness and dullness

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 501
is your sin, and you would fain have your soul in that frame, in
which it may be fittest to please God and enjoy him ; then I com
mend and encourage you in your trouble. But take heed lest you
should have any conceit of meritoriousness in your tears ; for that
would be a more dangerous sin tiian your want of tears. And if it
be for want of a sign of grace, and because a dry eye is a sign of
an unregenerate soul, I have told you, it is not so, except where
it only seconds an impenitent heart, and- comes from, or accompa
nied] an unrenewed will, and a prevailing unwillingness to turn to
God by Christ. Shew me, if you can, where the Scripture
saith, He that cannot weep for sin, shall not be saved, or
hath no true grace. Is not your complaint in this, the very same
that the most eminent Christians have used in all times? That
most blessed, holy man, Mr. Bradford, who sacrificed his life in
the flames against Romish abominations, was wont to subscribe his
spiritual letters (indited by the breath of the Spirit of God) thus :
' The most miserable, hardhearted sinner, John Bradford.'
Doubt 5. ' O but I am not willing to good, and therefore I fear
that even my will itself is yet unchanged : I have such a backward
ness and undisposedness to duty, especially secret prayer, medita
tion, and self-examination, and reproving and exhorting sinners,
that I am fain to force myself to it against my will. It is no delight
that I find in these duties that brings me to them, but only I use vi
olence with myself, and am fain to pull myself down on my knees,
because I know it is a duty, and I cannot be saved without it ; but
I am no sooner on my knees, but I have a motion to rise, or be
short, and am weary of it, and find no great miss of duty when I
do omit it.
Answ. 1. This shews that your soul is sick, when your meat goes
so much against your stomach that you are fain to force it down :
and sickness may well cause you to complain to God and man.
But what is this to deadness ! The dead cannot force down their
meat, nor digest it at all. It seems by this, that you are sanctified
but in a low degree, and your corruption remains in some strength ;
and let that be your sorrow, and the overcoming of it be your great
est care and business : but should you therefore say that you are
unsanctified ? It seems that you have still the flesh lusting against

502 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
the Spirit, that you cannot do the good you would. When you
would pray with delight and unweariedness, the flesh draws back,
and the devil is hindering you. And is .it not so in too great a
measure with the best on earth ? Remember what Christ said to
his own apostles. When they should have done him one of their last
services, as to the attendance of his body on earth, and should have
comforted bim in his agony, they are all asleep. Again and again
he comes to them, and findeth them asleep : Christ is praying and
sweating blood, and they are still sleeping, though he warned them
to watch and pray, that they enter not into temptation. But what
doth God say to them for it ? Why he useth this same distinction
between humiliation for sin, and doubting of sincerity and salva
tion, and he helps them to the former, and helps them against the
latter. " Could ye not watch with me one hour ?" saith he. There
he convinceth them of the sin, that they may be humbled for it.
" Thespirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak," saith he. There
he utterly resisteth their doubtings, or prevented] them ; shewing
them wherein sincere grace consisteth, even in the Spirit's willing
ness ; and telling them that they had that grace ; and then telling
them whence came their sin, even from the weakness of the flesh.
2. I have shewed you that as every man's will is but partly
sanctified (as to the degree of holiness) and so far as it is imper
fect, it will be unwilling ; so that there is something in the duties of
secret prayer, meditation and reproof, which makes most men more
backward to them than other duties. The last doth so cross our
fleshly interests ; and the two former are so spiritual, and require
so pure and spiritual a soul, and set a man so immediately before
the living God, as if we were speaking to him face to face, and have
nothing of external pomp to draw us, that it is no wonder, if while
there is flesh within us, we are backward to them ! Especially
while we are so unacquainted with God, and while strangeness and
consciousness of sin doth make us draw back : besides that, the
devil will more busily hinder us here than anywhere.
3. The question, therefore, is not, Whether you have an un
willingness and backwardness to good : for so have all. Nor yet,
Whether you have any cold ineffectual wishes : for so have the un-
"odly. But, Whether your willingness be not more than your un-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 503
willingness: and in that, 1. It must not be in every single act of
duty ; for a godly man may be actually more unwilling to a duty
at this particular time, than willing, and thereupon may omit it :
but it must be about your habitual willingness, manifested in ordi
nary, actual willingness. 2. You must not exclude any of those
motives which God hoth given you to make you willing to duty.
He hath commanded it, and his authority should move you. He
hath threatened you, and therefore fear should move you ; or else
he would never have threatened. He hath made promises of re
ward, and therefore the hope of that should move you. And there
fore you may perceive here, what a dangerous mistake it is to think
that we have no grace, except our willingness to duty be without
God's motives, %ph a mere love to the duty itself, or to its effect.
Nay, it is a dangerous Antinomian mistake to imagine, that it is our
dutj to be willing to good, without these motives of God ; I say, To
take it so much as for our duty, to exclude God's motives, though
we should not judge of our grace by it. For it is but an accusation
of Christ (and his law) who hath ordained these motives of pun
ishment and reward, to be his instruments to move the soul to duty.
Let me therefore put the right question to you, Whether all God's
motives laid together and considered, the ordinary prevailing part
of your will, be not rather for duty than against it? This you will
know by your practice. For if- the prevailing part be against duty,
you will not do it ; if it be for duty, you will ordinarily perform it,
though you cannot do it so well as you would. And then you may
see that your backwardness and remaining unwillingness must still
be matter. of humiliation and resistance to you, but not matter of
doubting. Nay, thank God that enableth you to pull down your ¦
self on your knees when you are unwilling ; for what is that but the
prevailing of your willingness against your unwillingness? Should
your unwillingness once prevail, you would turn your back upon
the most acknowledged duties.
Doubt 6. 'But I am afraid that it is only slavish fear of hell, and
not the love of God, that causeth me to obey ; and if it were not
for this fear, I doubt whether I should not quite give over all. And
perfect love casteth out fear.'
Answ. I have answered this already. Love will not be perfect

504 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
jn this life. In the life to come it will cast out all fear of damna
tion ; and all fear that drives the soul from God, and all fear of
men, (which is meant in Rev. xxi. 8. where the fearful and unbe
lievers are condemned ; that is, those that fear men more than
God.) And that 1 John iv. 17, 18. speaketh of a tormenting fear,
which is it thatl am persuading you from, and consisteth in terrors
of soul, upon an apprehension that God will condemn you. But it
speaketh not of a filial fear, nor of a fear lest we should by forsaking
God, or by yielding to temptation, lose the crown of life, and so
perish ; as long as this is not a tormenting fear, but a cautelous,
preserving, preventing fear. Besides the text plainly saith, " It is
that we may have boldness in the day of judgment, that love casteth
out this fear ;" and at the day of judgment, love will have more
fully overcome it. It is a great mistake to think that filial fear is
only the fear of temporal chastisement, and that all fear of hell is
slavish. Even filial fear is a fear of hell ; but with this difference.
A son (if he know himself to be a son) hath such a persuasion of
his father's love to him, that he knows he will not cast him off, ex
cept he should be so vile as to renounce his father ; which he is
moderately fearful or careful, lest by temptation he should be drawn
to do, but not distrustfully fearful, as knowing the helps and mer
cies of his father. But a slavish fear, is, when a man having no
apprehensions of God's love, or willingness to shew him mercy, doth
look that God should deal with him as a slave, and destroy him
whenever he doth amiss. It is this slavish tormenting fear which I
spend all this writing against. But yet a great deal, even of this
slavish fear, may be in those sons, that knew not themselves to be
sons. But suppose you were out of all fear of damnation ; do not belie
you own heart, and tell me, Had you not rather be holy than un
holy ; pleasing to God than displeasing ? And would not the hope
of salvation draw you from sin to duty, without the fear of damna
tion in hell ? But you will say, ' That is still mercenary, and as bad
as slavish fears.' I answer, ' Not so, this hope of salvation is the
hope of enjoying God, and living in perfect pleasingness to him,
and pleasure in him in glory ; and the desire of this is a desire of

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 505
love : it is love to God that makes you desire him, and hope to en
joy him.
Lastly, I say again take heed of separating what God hath join
ed. If God, by putting in your nature the several passions of hope,
fear, love, Sic. and by putting a holiness into these passions, by
sanctifying grace, and by putting both promises and dreadful threat-
enings into his word : I say, if'God by all these means hath given
you several motives to obedience, take heed of separating them.
Do not once ask your heart such a question, 'Whether it would
obey if there were no threatening, and so no fear ?' Nor on the other
side, do not'let fear do all, without love. Doubtless, the more love
constraineth to duty, the better it is ; and you should endeavor
with all your might that you might feel more of the force of love
in- your duties : but do you not mark how you cherish that corrup
tion that you complain of? Your doubts and tormenting fears are
the things that love should cast out. Why then do you entertain
them ? If you say, ' I cannot help it :' why then do you cherish
them, and own them, and plead and dispute for them ? and say
you do well to doubt, and you have cause ? Will this ever cast
out tormenting fears ? Do you not know that the way to cast them
out, is, not to -maintain them by distrustful thoughts or words ; but
to see their sinfulness, and abhor them, and to get more high
thoughts of the lovingkindness of God, and the tender mercies of
the Redeemer, and the unspeakable love that he hath manifested
in his suffering for you, and so the love of God may be more ad
vanced and powerful in your soul, and may be able to cast out
your tormenting fears. Why do you not do this instead of doubt
ing? If tormenting fears and doubtings be a sin, why do you not
make conscience of them, and bewail it that you have been so
guilty of them ? Will you therefore doubt because you have slav
ish fears? Why that is to doubt because you doubt; and to fear
because you fear ; and so to sin still because you have sinned.
Consider well of the folly of this course.
Doubt 7. ' But I am not able to believe ; and without faith
there is no pleasing God, nor hope of salvation ; I fear unbelief
will be my ruin.'
Answ. 1. I have answered this doubt fully before. It is ground-
Vol. I. 64

506 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ed on a mistake of the nature of true faith. You think that faith
is the believing that you are in God's favor, and that you are justi
fied ; but properly this is no faith at all, but only assurance, which
is sometimes a fruit of -faith, and sometimes never in this life ob
tained by a believer. Faith consisteth of two parts. 1. Assent to
the truth ofthe Word. 2. Acceptance of Christ as he is offered,
which immediately produceth a trusting on Christ for salvation, and
consent to be governed by him, and resolution to obey him ; which
in the fullest sense are also acts of faith. Now do you not believe the
truth of the Gospel ? And do you not accept of Christ as he is of
fered therein ? If you are truly willing to have Christ as he is
offered, I dare say you are a true believer. If you be not willing,
for shame never complain. Men use rather to speak against those
that they are unwilling of, than complain of their absence, and that
they cannot enjoy them.
2. However, seeing you complain of unbelief, in the name of
God do not cherish it, and plead for it, and by your own cogitations
fetch in daily matter to feed it ; but do more in detestation of it, as
well as complain.
Doubt 8. ' But I ama stranger to. the witness ofthe Spirit, and
the joy of tbe Holy Ghost, and communion with God, and there
fore how can I be a true believer?'
Answ. 1 . Feeding your doubts and perplexities, and arguing
for them, is not a means to get the testimony and joy of the Spirit,
but rather studying with all saints to know the love of God which
passeth knowledge, to comprehend the height, and breadth, and
length, and depth of his love ; and seeking to understand tbe things
that are given you of God. Acknowledge God's general love to
mankind, both in his gracious nature, and common providences,
and redemption by Christ, and deny not his special mercies to
yourself, but dwell in the study of the riches of grace, and that is
the way to come to the joy of the Holy Ghost. 2. I have told you
before what the witness of the Spirit is, and what is the ordinary
mistake herein. If you have the graces and holy operations of the
Spirit, you have the witness of the Spirit, whether you know it or
not. 3. If by your own doubtings you have deprived yourself of
the joy of the Holy Ghost, bewail it, and do so no more ; but do

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 507
not therefore say you have not the Holy Ghost. For the Holy
Ghost often works regeneration and holiness before he works any
sensible joys. 4. You have some hope of salvation by Christ left
in you : you are not yet in utter despair ; and is it no comfort to
you to think that you have yet any hope, and are not quite past
all remedy ? It may be your sorrows may so cloud it that you
take no notice of it ; but I know you cannot have the least hope
without some answerable comfort. And may not that comfort be
truly the joy of the Holy Ghost ? 5. And for communion with
God let me askyou ; Have you no recourse to him by prayer in
your straits ? Do you not wait at his mouth for the law and direc
tion of your life ? Have you received no holy desires, or other
graces from him ? Nay, are you sure that you are not a member
of Christ, who is one with him ? How can you then say you
have no communion with him? Can there be communication of
prayer and obedience from you ; yea, your own self delivered up
to Christ ; and a communication of any life of grace from God, by
Christ and the spirit ; and all this without communion ? It can
not be. Many a soul hath most near communion with Christ that
-knows it not.
Doubt 9. ' I have not the spirit' of prayer : when I should pour
out my soul to God, I have neither bold access, nor matter of
prayer, nor woids.'
Answ. Do you know what the spirit of prayer is ? It containeth,
1 . Desires of the soul after the things we want, especially Christ
and his graces. 2. An addressing ourselves to God with these de
sires, that we may have help and relief from him. Have not you
both these ? Do you not desire Christ and grace, justification and
sanctification ? Do you not look to God as him who alone is able
to supply your wants, and bids you ask that you may receive ?
Do you utterly despair of help, and so seek to none ? Or do you
make your addresses by prayer to. any but God ? But perhaps
you look at words and matter to dilate upon, that you may be able
to hold out in a long speech to God, and you think that it is the ef
fect of the spirit of prayer. But where do you find that in God's
word ? I confess that in many, and most, the Spirit which helpeth
to desires, doth also help to some kind of expressions ; because if

508 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
a man be of able natural parts, and have a tongue to express his
own mind, the promoting of holy desires will help men to express
ions. For a full soul is hardly hindered from venting itself : and
experience teacheth us, that the Spirit's inflaming the heart with
holy affections, doth very much furnish both the invention and ex
pression. But this is but accidental and uncertain ; for those that
are either men of unready tongues, or that are so ill bred among the
-rude vulgar, that they want fit expressions of their own minds, or that
are of over-bashful dispositions, or especially that are of- small
knowledge, and of little and short acquaintance with those that
should teach them to pray by their example, or that have been but
of short standing in the school of Christ,-^such a man may have the
spirit of prayer many a year, and never be able, in full expressions
of his own, to make known his wants to God ; no, nor in good and
tolerable sense and language, before others to speak to God, from his
own invention. A man may know all those articles of the faith that
are of flat necessity to salvation, and yet not be able to find matter
or words for the opening of his heart to God at length. I would
advise such to frequent the company of those that can teach and
help them in prayer, and neglect not to use the smallest parts they
have, especially in secret, between God and their own souls, where
they need not, so much as in public, to be regardful of expressions ;
and in the mean time to learn a prayer from some book, that may
most fidy express their necessities ; or to use the book itself in
prayer, if they distrust their memories, not resolving to stick liere,
and make it a means of indulging their laziness and negligence,
much less to reproach and deride those that express their desires
to God from the present sense of their own wants (as some wicked
ly do deride such ;) but to use this lawful help til! they are able to
do better without it than with it, and then to lay it by, and not be
fore. The Holy Ghost is said (Rom. viii. 16.) to help our infirm
ities in prayer; but how? 1. By teaching us what to pray for ;
not always what matter or words to enlarge ourselves by ; but what
necessary graces to pray for. 2. By giving us sighs and groans in
expressible, which is far from giving copious expressions ; for
groans and sighs be not words, and if they be groans that we can
not express, it would rather seem to intimate a want of expression,

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT.

309

than a constant abounding therein, where the Spirit doth assist ;
though indeed- the meaning is, that the groans are so deep, that
they are past die expression of our words : all our speech cannot
express that deep sense that is in our hearts. For the understand
ing hath the advantage ofthe affections herein ; all the thoughts of
the mind may be expressed to others, but the feelings and fervent
passions of the soul can be but very defectively expressed.
Lastly, All have not die spirit of prayer in like measure ; nor
all that have it in a great measure at one time, can find it so at
pleasure. Desires rise and fall, and these earnest groans be not in
every prayer where the Holy Ghost doth assist. I believe there is
never a prayer that ever a believer did put up to God for things
lawful and useful, but it was put up by the help of the Spirit. For
the weakest prayer hath some degree of good desire in it, and ad
dresses to God with an endeavor to express. them ; and these .can
come from none but only- from the Spirit. Mere words without de
sires, are no more prayer, than a suit of apparel hanged on a stake,
is a man. You may- have the spirit of prayer, and yet have it in
a very weak degree.
Yet still I would encourage you to bewail your defect herein as
your sin, and seek earnestly the supply of your wants ; but what
is that to the questioning or denying your sincerity, or right to sal
vation ?
Doubt 10. ' I have no gifts to make me useful to myself or oth
ers. When I should profit by tbe word I cannot remember it :
when I should reprove a sinner, or instruct the ignorant, I have
not words : if I were called to give an account of my faith, I have
not words to express that which is in my mind : and what grace can
here be then ?'
Answ. This needs no long answer. Lament and amend those
sins by which you have been disabled. But know, that these gifts
depend more on nature, art, industry and common grace, than
upon special saving grace. Many a bad man is excellent in all
these, and many a one that is truly godly is defective. Where
hath God laid our salvation upon the strength of our memories, the
readiness of our tongues, or measure of the like gifts ? That were
almost as if he should have made a law, that all shall be saved that

510 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
have sound complexions, and healthful and youthful bodies; and
all be damned that are sickly, aged, weak, children, and most
women. Doubt. 11. ' O but I have been a grievous sinner, before I came
home, and have fallen foully since, and I am utterly unworthy of
mercy! Will the Lord ever save such an unworthy wretch as I ?
Will he ever give his mercy and the blood of his Son, -to one that
hath so abused it ?'
Answ. 1. The question is not, with God, what you have been,
but what you are ? God takes men as they then are, and not as
they were. 2. It is a dangerous thing, to object the greatness of
your guilt against God's mercy and Christ's merits. Do you think
Christ's satisfaction is not sufficient? Or that he died for small
sins and not for great? Do you not know that he hath made satis
faction for all, and will pardon all, and hath given out the pardon
of all in his covenant, and that to all men, on condition theyr will
accept Christ to pardon and heal them in his own way? Hath
God made it his great design in the work of man's redemption, to
make his love and mercy as honorable and wonderful, as he did his
power-in the work of creation ? And will you after all this, oppose
the greatness of your sins against the greatness of this mercy and
satisfaction ? Why, you may as well think yourself to be such a
one, that God could not.or did not make you, as to think your
sins so great, that Christ could not or did not satisfy for them, or
will 'not pardon them, if you repent and believe in him. 3. And
for worthiness, I pray you observe ; there is a two-fold worthi
ness and righteousness. There is a legal worthiness and righteous
ness, which consisteth in a perfect obedience, which is the perform
ance of the conditions of the law of pure nature and works. This
no man hath but Christ ; and if you look after this righteousness or
worthiness in yourself, then do you depart from Christ, and make
him to have died and satisfied in vain : you are a Jew and not a
Christian, and are one of those that Paul so much disputeth against,
that would be justified by the law. Nay, you must not so much as
once,imagine that all your own works can be any part of this legal
righteousness or worthiness to you. Only Christ's satisfaction and
merit is instead of this our legal righteousness and worthiness.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 511
God never gave Christ and mercy to any but the unworthy in this
sense. If you know7 not yourself to be unworthy and unrighteous
in the sense ofthe law of works, you cannot know what Christ's
righteousness is. Did Christ come to save any but sinners, and
such as were lost ? What need you a Savior, if you were not
condemned ? And how come you to be condemned, if you were
not unrighteous and unworthy ? But then, 2.- There is an evan
gelical personal worthiness and righteousness, which is the condi
tion on which God bestows Christ's righteousness upon us ; and
this all have that will be saved by Christ. But what is that ? Why,
it hath two parts : i. The condition and worthiness required to
your union with Christ, and pardon of all your sins past, and your
adoption and justification ; it is no more but your hearty and thank
ful acceptance of the gift that is freely given you of God by his
covenant grant; that is, Christ and life in him; 1 John v. 10 — 12.
There is no worthiness required in you before faith, as a condi
tion on which God will give you faith ; but only certain means you
are appointed to use for the obtaining it : and faith itself is but the
acceptance of a free gift. God requireth you not to bring any oth
er worthiness or price in your hands, but that you consent unfeign
edly to have Christ as he is offered, and to the ends and uses that
he is offered ; that is, as one that hath satisfied for you by his blood
and merits, to put away your sins, and as one that must il
luminate and teach you, sanctify, and guide, and govern you
by his word and Spirit ; and as. King and Judge will fully and
finally justify you at the day of judgment, and give you the crown
of glory. Christ on his part, 1. Hath merited your pardon by his
satisfaction, and not properly by his sanctifying you. 2. And
sanctifieth you by his Spirit, and ruleth you by his laws, and not
directly by his bloodshed. 3. And he will justify you at judgment
as King and Judge, and not as Satisfier or Sanctifier. But the
condition on your part, of obtaining interest in Christ and his bene
fits, is that one faith which accepteth him in all these respects (both
as King, Priest and Teacher) and to all these ends conjunctly.
But-then, ii. The condition and worthiness required to the con
tinuation and consummation of your pardon, justification, and right
to glory, is both the continuance of your faith, and your sincere

512 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
obedience, even your keeping the baptismal covenant that you
made with Christ by your parents, and the covenant which you in
your own person made with him in your first true believing. These
indeed are called Worthiness and Righteousness frequently in the
Gospel. But it is no worthiness consisting in any such works, which
make the reward to be of debt, and not of grace (of which Paul
speaks) but only in faith, and such Gospel-works as James speaks
of, which make the reward to be wholly of grace and not debt.
Now if you say you are unworthy in this evangelical sense, then
you must mean (if you know what you say,) that you are an infi
del or unbeliever, or an impenitent, obstinate rebel, that would not
have Christ to reign over him ; for the Gospel calleth none unwor
thy, (as non-performers of its conditions,) but only these. But I
hope you dare not charge yourself with such infidelity and wilful re
bellion. Doubt 12.' Though God hath kept me from gross sins, yet I
find such searedness of conscience, and so little averseness from
sin in my mind, that I fear I should commit it if I lay under temp
tations ; and also that I should not hold out in trial if I were called
to suffer death, or any. grievous calamity. And that obdience which
endureth merely for want of a temptation, is no true obedience.'
Answ.. I. I have fully answered this before. If you can over
come the temptations of prosperity, you have no cause to doubt
distrustfully, whether you shall overcome the temptation of adver
sity. And if God give you grace to avoid temptations to sin, and
flee occasions as much as you can, and to overcome them where you
cannot avoid them ; you have little reason to distrust his preserva
tion of you, and your stedfastness thereby, if you should be cast
upon greater temptations. Indeed if you feel not such a belief of
the evil and danger of sinning, as to possess you with some sensible
hatred of it, you have need to look to your heart for the strength
ening of that belief and hatred ; and fear your heart with a godly,
preserving jealousy, but not with tormenting, disquieting doubts.
Whatever your passionate hatred be, if you have a settled, well-
grounded resolution, to walk-in obedience to the death, you may
confidently and comfortably trust him for your preservation, who
gave you those resolutions.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. '!•-
2. And the last sentence of this doubt had need of great caution,
before you conclude it a certain truth. It is true that the obedi
ence, which by an ordinary temptation, such as men may expect,
would be overthrown, is not well grounded and rooted before it is
overthrown. But it is a great doubt whether there be not degrees
of temptation possible, which would overcome the resolution and
grace ofthe most holy, having such assistance as the Spirit usually
giveth believers in temptation ? and whether some temptations which
overcome not a strong Christian, would not overcome a weak one,
who yet hath true grace ? I conclude nothing of these doubts.
But I would not have you trouble yourself upon confident conclu
sions, on so doubtful grounds. This I am certain of, 1 . That the
strongest Christian should take heed of temptation, and not trust to
the strength of his graces, nor presume on God's preservation,
while he wilfully casteth himself in the mouth of dangers ; nor to
be encouraged hereunto upon any persuasion of an impossibility of
his falling away. O the falls, the fearful falls that I have known
(alas, how often !) the most eminent men for godliness that ever I
knew, to be guilty of, by casting themselves upon temptations. I
confess I will never be confident of that man's perseverance, were
he the best that I know on earth, who casteth himself upon violent
temptations, especially the temptations of sensuality, prosperity,
and seducement. 2. I know God hath taught us daily to watch
and pray, that we enter not into temptation, and to pray, " Lead
us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." (I never under
stood the necessity of that petition feelingly, till I saw the exam
ples of these seven or eight years last past.) This being so, you must
look that your perseverance should be by being preserved from
temptation ; and must rather examine, whether you have that
grace which will enable you to avoid temptations, than whether
you have grace enough to overcome them, if you rush into them.
But if God unavoidably cast you upon them, keep up your watch
and prayer, and you have no cause to trouble yourself with distrust
ful fears.
Doubt 13. ' I am afraid, lest I have committed the unpardona
ble sin against the Holy Ghost, and then there is no hope of my
salvation.'
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514 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
Answ. It seems you know not what the sin against the Holy
Ghost is. It is this, When a man is convinced that Christ and his
disciples did really work those glorious miracles which are record
ed in the Gospel, and yet will not believe that Christ is the Son of
God, and his doctrine true, though sealed with all those miracles,
and other holy and wonderful works of the Spirit, but doth blasphe
mously maintain that they were done by the power of the devil.
This is the sin against the Holy Ghost. And dare you say that you
are guilty of this ? If you be, then you do not believe that Christ
is the Son of God, and the Messiah, and his Gospel true. And
then you will sure oppose him, and maintain that he was a deceiv
er, and that the devil was the author of all the miraculous and gra
cious workings of his Spirit. Then you will never fear his displea
sure, nor call him seriously either Lord or Savior ! nor tender
him any service, any more than you do to Mahomet. None but
infidels do commit the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost ; nor but
few of them. Unbelief is eminently called " sin" in the Gospel ;
and that " unbelief which is maintained by blaspheming the glo
rious works of the Holy Ghost, which Christ and his disciples
through many years time did perform for a testimony to his truth,
that is called singularly, " The sin against the Holy Ghost !" You
may meet with other descriptions of this sin, which may occasion
your terror ; but I am fully persuaded that this is the plain truth.
Doubt 14. ' But I greatly fear lest the time of grace be past,
and lest I have out-sat the day of mercy, and now mercy hath
wholly forsaken me. For I have oft heard ministers tell me from
the word, " Now is the accepted time, now is the day of your visi
tation ; to-day, while it is called to-day, harden not your hearts,
lest God swear in his wrath, that they shall not enter into his rest."
But I have stood out long after, I have resisted and quenched the
Spirit, and now it is I fear departed from me.'
Answ. Here is sufficient matter for humiliation, but the doubt
ing ariseth merely from ignorance. The day of grace may in two
respects be said to be over : The first (and most properly so called)
is, When God will not accept of a sinner, though he should repent
and return. This is never in this life for certain. And he that
imagineth any such thing as that it is too late, while his soul is in

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT.

515

his body, to repent and accept of Christ and mercy, is merely
ignorant of the tenor and sense of the Gospel ! For the new law
of grace doth limit no time on earth for God's accepting of a return
ing sinner. True faith and repentance do as surely save at the last
hour ofthe day, as at the first. God hath said, that whosoever
believeth in Christ shall not perish, but have everlasting life. He
hath no where excepted late believers or repenters. Shew any
such exception if you can.
The second sense in which it may be said that the day of
grace is over, is this : When a man hath so long resisted the Spirit,
that God hath given him over to the wilful, obstinate refusals of
mercy, and of Christ's government, resolving that he will never
give him the prevailing grace of his Spirit. Where note, 1. That
this same man might still have grace as soon as any other, if he
were but willing to accept Christ and grace in him. 2. That no
man can know of himself or any other, that God hath thus finally
forsaken him ; for God hath given us no sign to know it by (at least
who sin not against the Holy Ghost.) God hath not told us his se
cret intents concerning such. 3. Yet some men have far greater
cause to fear it than others ; especially those men, who under the
most searching, lively sermons, do continue secure and wilful in
known wickedness either hating godliness and godly persons, and
all that do reprove them, or at least being stupified, that they feel
no more than a post, the force of God's terrors, or the sweetness
of his promises ; but make a jest of sinning, and think the life of
godliness a needless thing. Especially if they grow old in this
course, I confess such have great cause to fear, lest they are quite
forsaken of God ; for very few such are ever recovered. 4. And
therefore it may well be said to all men, " To day if you will hear
bis voice harden not your hearts," &ic. And " This is the accepta
ble time ; this is the day of salvation ;" both as this life is called,
" the day of salvation ;" and because co man is certain to live
another day, that he may repent ; nor yet to have grace to repent
if he live. 5. But what is all this to you that do repent ? Can
you have cause to fear that your day of grace is over, that have
received grace ? Why, that is as foolish a thing, as if a man shoud
come to the market and buy corn, and when he hath done, go

516 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
heme lamenting that the market was past before he came. Or as
a man should come and hear a sermon, and when he hath done,
lament that the sermon was done before he came. If your day of
grace be past, tell me (and do not wrong God,) Where had you
the grace of repentance ? How came you by that grace of holy-
desires ? Who made you willing to have Christ for your Lord
and Saviour ? So that you had rather have him, and God's favor,
and a holy heart and life, than all the glory of the world ? How
came you to desire that you were such a one as God would have
you to be ? And to desire that all your sins were dead, and might
never live in you more ? And that you were able to love God, and
delight in him, and please him even in perfection ? Aud that you
are so troubled that you cannot do it ? Are these signs that your
day of grace is over ? Doth God's Spirit breathe out groans after
Christ and grace within you ? And yet is the day of grace over ?
Nay, what if you had no grace ? Do you not hear God daily of
fering you Christ and grace ? Doth he not entreat and beseech
you to be reconciled unto him? (2 Cor. v. 19, 20.) And would
he not compel you to come in ? (Matt, xxii.) Do you not feel
some unquietness in your sinful condition ? And some motions
and strivings at your heart to get out of it ? Certainly (though you
should be one that hath yet no grace to salvation,) yet these con
tinued offers of grace, and the strivings of the Spirit of Christ with
your heart, do shew that God hath not quite forsaken you, and
that your day of grace and visitation is not past.
Doubt 15. ' But I have sinned since my profession, and that
even against my knowledge and conscience. I have had tempta
tions to sin, and I have considered of the evil and danger, and yet
in the most sober deliberations, I have resolved to sin. And how
can such a one have any true grace, or be saved ?'
Answ. 1. If you had not true grace, God is still offering it, and
ready to work it.
2. Where do you find in Scripture, that none who have true
grace do sin knowingly or deliberately. Perhaps you will say in
Heb. x. 24. "If we sin wilfully, after the knowledge of the truth,
there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin, but a fearful looking for
of judgment, and fire, which shall devour the adversaries." Answ.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 517
But you must know, that it is not every wilful sin which is there
mentioned; but, as even now I told you, unbelief is peculiarly
called sin in the New Testament. And the true meaning of the
text is, If we utterly renounce Christ by infidelity, as not being the
true Messiah, after we have known his truth, then, &.c. Indeed
none sin more against knowledge than the godly when they do sin ;
for they know more, for the most part, than others do. And pas
sion and sensuality (the remnant of it which yet remaineth) will be
working strongly in your very deliberations against sin, and either
perverting the judgment to doubt whether it be a sin, or whether
there be any such danger in it ; or whether it be not a very little
sin ; or else blinding it, that it cannot see the arguments against the
sin in their full vigor; or at least, prepossessing the heart and de
light, and so hindering our reasons against sin from going down to
the heart, and working on the will, and so from commanding the
actions of the body. This may befal a godly man. And more
over God may withdraw his grace as he did from Peter and David
in their sin. And then our considerations will work but faintly, and
sensuality and sinful passion will work effectually. It is scarce pos
sible, I think, that such a man as David could be so long about so
horrid a sin, and after contrive the murder of Uriah, and all this
without deliberation, or any reasoning in himself to the contrary.
3. The truth is, though this be no good cause for any repenting
sinner to doubt of salvation, yet it is a very grievous aggravation of
sin, to commit it against knowledge and conscience, and upon con
sideration. And therefore I advise all that love their peace or sal
vation, to take heed of it. For as they will find that no sin doth
more deeply wound the conscience, and plunge the sinner into fear
ful perplexities ; which ofttimes hang on him very long, so the of
tener such sin is committed, the less evidence will such a one have
of the sincerity of their faith and obedience ; and therefore in the
name of God, beware. And let the troubled soul make this the
matter of his moderate humiliation, and spare not. Bewail it be
fore God. Take shame to yourself, and freely confess it, when
you are called to it before men. Favor it not, and deal not gently
with it, if you would have peace; but we give glory to God, by
taking the just dishonor to yourselves. Tender dealing is an ill

518 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
sign, and hath sad effects. But yet for every sin against know
ledge, to doubt of the truth of grace, is not right, much less to doubt
of the pardon of that sin when we truly repent of it. Are you un
feignedly sorry for your sins against conscience, and resolve against
them for the future, through the help of God's grace ? If so, then
that sin is pardoned now, through the blood of Christ believed in,
whether you had then grace or not.
Doubt 16. 'But I have such corruptions in my nature, that I
cannot overcome. I have such a passionate nature, and such a
vanity of mind, and such worldly desires, that though I pray and
strive against them daily, yet do they prevail. And it is not striving
without overcoming that will prove the truth of grace in any. Be
sides, I do not grow in grace as all God's people do.'
Answ. I. Do you think sin is not overcome as long as it dwelleth
in us, and daily troubleth us, and is working in us? Paul saith,
"The evil that I would not do, that I do;" and, " We cannot do
the things we would." And yet Paul was not overcome with these
sins, nor had they dominion over him. You must consider of these
sins as in the habit, or in the act. In the habit as they are in the
passions they will be still strong ; but as they are in the will they
are weak and overcome. Had you not rather you were void of
these passions than not, and that you might restrain them in the
act ? Are you not weary of them, and daily pray and strive against
them? If so, it seems they have not your will. And for the
actual passion (as I may call it) itself, you must distinguish be
tween, 1. Those which the will hath full power of, and which it
hath but partial power over. 2. And between the several degrees
of the passion. 3. And between the inward passion and the out
ward expressions.
Some degree of anger and of lust will oft stir in the heart,
whether we will or not. But I hope you restrain it in the degree ;
and much more from breaking out into practices of lust, or cursed
speeches, or railings, backbitings, slanderings, or revenge. For
these your will, if sanctified, hath power to command. Even the
acts of our corruptions, as well as the habits, will stick by us in
this life ; but if it be in gross sins, or avoidable infirmities care
lessly or wilfully continued, 1 can tell you a better way to asssur-

SPIRITUAL PEAGE AND 1,'OMFORT. 519
ance and comfort than your complaints are. Instead of being
afraid lest you cannot have your sin and [Christ together, do but
more heartily oppose that sin, and deal roundly and conscionably
against it, till you have overcome it, and then you may ease your
self of your complaints and troubles. If you say, ' O but it is not
so easily done. I cannot overcome it. I have prayed and strove
against it long.' I answer, But are you heartily willing to be rid of
it? If you will, it will be no impossible matter to be rid of the out
ward expressions, and the high degree ofthe passion, though not
of every degree. Try this course awhile, and then judge. 1 .
Plainly confess your guiltiness. 2. Never more excuse it, or
plead for it, to any that blameth you. 3. Desire those that live
and deal with you, to tell you roundly of it as soon as they discern
it, and engage yourself to them to take it well, as a friendly action
which yourself requested of them. 4. When you feel the passion
begin to stir, enter into serious consideration of the sinfulness, or go
and tell some friend of your frail inclination, and presently beg their
help against it. If it be godly persons that you are angry with, in
stead of giving them ill words, presently as soon as you feel the fire
kindle, say to them, 'I have a very passionate nature, which al
ready is kindled, I pray you reprehend me for it, and help me
against it, and pray to God for my deliverance.' Also go to God
yourself, and complain to him of it, and beg his help. Lastly, be
sure that you make not light of it, and see that you avoid the occa
sions as much as you can. If you are indeed willing to be rid of
the sin, then do not call these directions too hard. But shew your
willingness in ready practising them. And thus you may see that
it is better to make your corruptions the matter of your humiliation
and reformation, than of your torment.
And for tbe other part of the doubt that you grow not in grace, I
answer : 1 . The promises of growth are conditional, or else signify
what God will usually do for his people : but it is certain that they
be not absolute to all believers. For it is certain that all true Chris
tians do not always grow ; nay, that many do too oft decline, and
lose their first fervor of love, and fall into sin, and live more care
lessly. Yea, it is certain that a true believer may die in such de
cays, or in a far lower state than formerly be hath been in. If I

520 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
thought this needed proof, I could easily prove it ; but he that
openeth his eyes may soon see enough proof in England. 2.
Many Christians do much mistake themselves about the very na
ture of true grace ; and then no wonder if they think that they
thrive when they do not, and that they thrive not when they do.
They think that more of the life and truth of grace doth lie in pas
sionate feelings of sin, grace, duty, &c in sensible zeal, grief,
joy, &,c. and do not know that the chief part lieth in the under
standing's estimation, and will's firm choice and resolution. And
then they think they decline in grace, because they cannot weep,
or joy so sensibly as before. Let me assure you of this as truth :
1. Young people have usually more vigor of affections than old ;
because they have more vigor of body, and hot blood, and agile,
active spirits ; when the freezing, decayed bodies and spirits of
old men must needs make an abatement of their fervor in all du
ties. 2. The like may be said of most that are weak and sickly in
comparison of the strong and healthful. 3. All things affect men
most deeply when they are new, and time weareth off the vigor of
that affection. The first hearing of such a fight, or such a victory,
or such a great man or friend dead, doth much affect us; but so it
doth not still. When you first receive any benefit, it more de
lighted] you than long after. So married people, or any other, in the
first change of their condition, are more affected with it than after
ward. And indeed man's nature cannot hold up in a constant ele
vation of affections. Children are more taken with every thing
that they see and hear than old men, because all is new to them,
and all seems old to the other. 4. I have told you before that
some natures are more fiery, passionate, and fervent than others
are ; and in such a little grace will cause a great deal of earnest
ness, zeal and passion. But let me tell you, that you may grow in
these, and not grow in the body of your graces. Doubtless Satan
himself may do so much to kindle your zeal, if he do but see it
void of sound knowledge, as he did in James and John when they
would have called for fire from heaven, but they knew not what
spirit they were of. For the doleful case of Christ's churches in
this age hath put quite beyond dispute that none do the devil's
work more effectually, nor oppose the kingdom of Christ more

SPIRITUAL l'F.\CE AND COMFORT. 521
desperately, than they that have the hottest zeal with the weakest
judgments. And as fire is most excellent and necessary in the
chimney, but in the thatch it is worse than the vilest dung; so is
zeal most excellent when guided by sound judgment ; but more
destructive than profane sensuality when it is let loose and mis
guided. On the other side, you may decay much in feeling and fervor of
affections, and yet grow in grace, if you do but grow in the under
stand and the will. And indeed this is the common growth which
Christians have in their age. Examine therefore whether you have
this or no. Do you not understand the things of the Spirit better
than you formerly did? Do you not value God, Christ, glory, and
grace at higher rates than formerly ? Are you not more fully re
solved to stick to Christ to the death than formerly you have been?
I do not think but it would be a harder work for Satan to draw you
from Christ to the flesh than heretofore. When the tree hath done
growing in visible greatness, it groweth in rootedness. The fruit
grows first in bulk and. quantity, and then in mellow sweetness.
Are not you less censorious, and more peaceable than heretofore?
I tell you that is a more noble growth than a great deal of austere
and bitter, youthful, censorious, dividing zeal of many will prove.
Mark most aged, experienced Christians, that walk uprightly, and
you will find that they quite outstrip the younger, 1 . In experi
ence, knowledge, prudence, and soundness of judgment. 2. In
well-settled resolutions for Christ, his truth, and cause. 3. In a
love of peace, especially in the church, and a -hatred of dissen-
tions, perverse contendings and divisions. If you can shew this
growth, say not that you do not grow.
3. But suppose you do not grow, should you therefore deny the
sincerity of your grace ? I would not persuade any soul that they
grow, when they do not. But if you do not, be humbled for it,
and endeavor it for the future. Make it your desire and daily
business, and spare not still. Lie not complaining, but rouse up
your soul, and see what is amiss, and set upon neglected duties,
and remove those corruptions that hinder your growth. Converse
with growing Christians, and under quickening means ; endeavor
the good of other men's souls as well as your own ; and then you
Vol. I. 66 *

522 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
will find that growth, which will silence this doubt, and do much
more for you than that.
Doubt 17. 'I am troubled with such blasphemous thoughts and
temptations to unbelief, even against God, and Christ, and Scrip
ture, and the life to come, that I doubt I have no faith.'
Answ. To be tempted is no sign of gracelessness, but to yield to
the temptation ; not every yielding neither, but to be overcome of
the temptation. Most melancholy people, especially that have any
knowledge in religion, are frequently haunted with blasphemous
temptations. I have oft wondered that the devil should have such
a power and advantage in the predominancy of that distemper.
Scarce one person of ten, whoever was with me in deep melan
choly, either for the cure of body or mind, but hath been haunted
with these blasphemous thoughts ; and that so impetuously and
violently set on and followed, that it might appear to be from the
devil ; yea, even many that never seemed godly, or to mind any
such thing before. I confess it hath been a strengthening to my
own faith, to see the devil such an enemy to the Christian faith ; yea,
to the Godhead itself.
But perhaps you will say, ' It is not mere temptation from Satan
that I complain of; but it takes too much with my sinful heart. I
am ready to doubt ofttimes whether there be a God, or whether his
providence determine of the things here below ; or whether Scrip
ture be true, or the soul immortal,' Sic.
Answ. This is a very great sin, and you ought to bewail and
abhor it, and, in the name of God, make not light of it, but look to
it betime. But yet let me tell you, that some degree of this blas
phemy and infidelity may remain with the truest saving faith. The
best may say, " Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief." But I
will tell you my judgment. When your unbelief is such as to be
a sign of a graceless soul in the state of damnation : if your doubt
ings of the truth of Scripture and the life to come, be so great that
you will not let go the pleasures and profits of sin, and part with
all, if God call you to it, in hope of that glory promised, and to
escape the judgment threatened, because you look upon the things
ofthe life to come but as uncertain things : then is your belief no
saving belief; but your unbelief is prevalent. But if for all your

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 523
staggerings, you see so much probability of the truth of Scripture
and the life to come, that you are resolved to venture (and part
with, if called to it) all worldly hopes and happiness for the hope
of that promised glory, and to make it the chiefest business of your
life to attain it, and do deny yourself the pleasures of sin for that
end ; this is a true saving faith, as is evident by its victory; not
withstanding all the infidelity, atheism, and blasphemy that is mix
ed with it.
But again, let me advise you to take heed of this heinous sin,
and bewail and detest the very least degree of it. It is dangerous
when the devil strikes at the very root, and heart, and foundation
of all your religion. There is more sinfulness and danger in this
than in many other sins. And therefore let it never be motioned
to your soul without abhorrence. Two ways the devil hath to move
it. The one is by his immediate inward suggestions ; these are
bad enough. The other is by his accursed instruments ; and this
is a far more dangerous way ; whether it be by books, or by the
words of men. And yet if it be by notorious wicked men, or
fools, the temptation is the less ; but when it is by men of cunning
wit, and smooth tongues, and hypocritical lives (for far be that
wickedness from me, as to call them godly, or wise, or honest,)
then it is the greatest snare the devil hath to lay. O just and
dreadful God ! Did I think one day that those that I was then
praying with, and rejoicing with, and that went up with me to the
house of God in familiarity, would this day be blasphemers of thy
sacred name, and deny the Lord that bought them, and deride thy
holy word as a fable, and give up themselves to the present pleas
ures of sin, because they believe not thy promised glory ? O right
eous and merciful God, that hast preserved the humble from this
condemnation, and hast permitted only the proud and sensual pro
fessors to fall into it, and hast given them over to hellish conversa
tions according to the nature of their hellish opinions, that they
might be rather a terror to others than a snare ! I call their doc
trine and practice hellish, from its original, because it comes from
the father of lies, but not that there is any such opinion or practice
in hell. He that tempts others to deny the godhead, the Christian
faith, the Scripture, the life to come, doth no whit doubt of any one

524 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
of them himself, but. believes and trembles. O fearful blindness of
the professors of religion, that will hear, if not receive these blas
phemies from the mouth of an apostate professor, which they would
abhor if it came immediately from the devil himself. With what
sad complaints and tremblings do poor sinners cry out (and not
without cause,) ' O I am haunted with such blasphemous tempta
tions, that I am afraid lest God should suddenly destroy me, that
ever such thoughts should come into my heart.' But if an instru
ment of the devil come and plead against the Scripture or the life
to come, or Christ himself, they will hear him with less detestation.
The devil knows that familiarity will cause us to take that from a
man, which we would abhor from the devil himself immediately.
I intend not to give you now a particular preservation against each
of these temptations. Only let me tell you, that this is the direct
way to infidelity, apostacy, and the sin against the Holy Ghost ;
and if by any seducers the devil do overcome you herein, you are
lost forever, and there will be no more sacrifice for your sin, but a
fearful expectation of judgment, and that fire which shall devour
the adversaries of Christ.
Doubt 18. 'I have so great fear of death, and unwillingness to
be with God, that I am afraid I have no grace : for if I had Paul's
spirit, I should be able to say with him, " I desire to depart and
be with Christ," whereas now, no news would be to me more un
welcome.' Answ. There is a loathness to die that comes from a desire to
do God more service ; and another that comes from an apprehen
sion of unreadiness, when we would fain have more assurance of
salvation first; or would be fitter to meet our Lord. Blame not a
man to be somewhat backward, that knows it must go with him for
ever in heaven or hell, according as he is found at death. But
these two be not 10 much a loathness to die, as a loathness to die
now at this time. There is also in all men living, good and
bad, a natural abhorrence and fear of death. God hath put this
into men's nature (even in innocency) to be his great means of gov
erning the world. No man would live in order, or be kept in obe
dience, but for this. He that cares not for his own life, is master
of another's. Grace doth not root out this abhorrence of death, no

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. •>-<>
more than it unmanneth us ; only it restrains it from excess, and
so far overcometh the violence of the passion, by the apprehensions
of a better life beyond death, that a believer may the more quietly
and willingly submit to it. Paul himself desireth not death, but
the life which followeth it. " He desireth to depart and be with
Christ ;" that is, he had rather be in heaven than on earth, and
therefore he is contented to submit to the penal sharp passage.
God doth not command you to desire death itself, nor forbid you
fearing it as an evil to nature, and a punishment of sin. Only he
requireth you to desire the blessedness to be enjoyed after death,
and that so earnestly as may make death itself the easier to you.
Thank God, if the fear of death be somewhat abated in you,
diough it be not sweetened. Men may pretend what they please,
but nature will abbor death as long as it is nature, and as long as
man is man ; else temporal death had been no punishment to
Adam, if his innocent nature had not abhorred it as it was an evil
to it. Tell me but this, If death did not stand in your waj to
heaven, but that you could travel to heaven, as easily as to London,
would not you rather go thither and be with Christ than stay in sin
and vanity here on earth, so be it you were certain to be with
Christ ? If you can say yea to this, then it is apparent that your
loathness to die is either from the uncertainty of your salvation, or
from the natural averseness to a dissolution, or both ; and not from
an unwillingness to be with Christ, or a preferring the vanities of
this world before the blessedness of that to come. Lastly, It may
be God may lay that affliction on you, or use some other necessary
means with you yet, before you die, that may make you more will
ing than now you are.
Doubt 19. ' God layeth upon me such heavy afflictions, that I
cannot believe he loves me. He writeth bitter things against me,
and taketh me for his enemy. I am afflicted in my health, in my
name, in my children, and nearest friends, and in my estate. I
live in continual poverty, or pinching distress of one kind or other ;
yea, my very soul is filled with his terrors, and night and day is his
hand heavy upon me.'
Answ. I have said enough to this before, nor do I think it need
ful to say any more, when the Holy Ghost hath said so much ; but

526 DIRECTIONS FOR rfETTING AND KEEPING
only to desire you to read what he hath written in Heb. xii. and
Job throughout ; and Psal. xxxvii. lxxiii. and divers others. The
next doubt is contrary.
Doubt 20. ' I read in Scripture, that through many tribulations
we must enter into heaven, and that all that will live godly in Christ
Jesus, must suffer persecution ; and that he that taketh not up his
cross, and so followeth Christ, cannot be his disciple. And that if
we are not corrected, we are bastards, and not sons. But I never
had any affliction from God, but have lived in constant prosperity
to this day. Christ saith, " Woe to you when all men speak well
of you." But all men, for aught I know, speak well of me ; and
therefore I doubt of my sincerity.'
Answ. I would not have mentioned this doubt, but that I was
so foolish as to be troubled with it myself; and perhaps some oth
ers may be as foolish as I ; though I think but few in these times:
our great friends have done so much to resolve them more effectu
ally than words could have done. 1. Some of the texts speak only
of man's duty of bearing persecution and tribulation, when God
lays it on us, rather than of the event, that it shall certainly come.
2> Yet I think it ordinarily certain, and to be expected as to the
event. Doubtless tribulation itf God's common road to heaven.
Eyejy ignorant person is so well aware of this, that they delude
themselves in their sufferings, saying, that God hath given them
.their punishment in this life, and therefore they hope he will not
punish them in another. If any soul be so silly as to fear and
doubt for want of affliction ; if none else will do the cure, let them
follow my counsel, and I dare warrant them for this, and I will
advise them to nothing but what is honest, yea, and necessary, and
what I have tried effectually upon myself; and I can assure you it
.cured me, and I can give it a ' Probatum est.' And first, see that
you be faithful in your duty to all sinners within your reach ; be
they great or small, gendemen or beggars, do your duty in re
proving them meekly and lovingly, yet plainly and seriously, tell
ing them of the danger of God's everlasting wrath ; and when you
find them obstinate, tell the church-officers of them, that they may
do their duty ; and if yet they are unreformed, they may be ex
cluded from the church's communion, and all Christian familiarity.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 527
Try this course awhile, and if you meet with no afflictions, and
get no more fists about your ears than your own, nor more tongues
against you than formerly, tell me I am mistaken . Men basely
baulk and shun almost all the displeasing, ungrateful work of Chris
tianity of purpose, lest they should have sufferings in the flesh, and
then they doubt of their sincerity for want of sufferings. My second
advice is, Do but stay awhile in patience (but prepare your patience
for a sharper encounter,) and do not tie God to your time. He
hath not told you when your afflictions shall come. If he deal
easier with you than with others, and give you longer time to pre
pare for them, be not you offended at that, and do not quarrel
with your mercies. It is about seventeen years since I was troubled
with this doubt, thinking I was no son, because I was not afflicted ;
and I think I have had few days without pain for this sixteen years
since together, nor but few hours, if any one, for this six or seven
years. And thus my scruple is removed.
And if yet any be troubled with this doubt, if the church's and
common trouble be any trouble to them, shall I be bold to tell
them my thoughts ? (only understand that I pretend not to prophe
sy, but to conjecture at effects by the position of their moral causes.)
I think that the righteous King of saints is even now, for our over-
admiring rash zeal, and sharp, high profession, making for Eng
land so heavy an affliction, and a sharp scourge^, to be inflicted by
seduced, proud, self-conceited professors, as neither we nor our
fathers did ever yet bear. Except it should prove the merciful in
tent of our Father, only to suffer them to ripen for their own des
truction, to be a standing monument for the effectual warning of all
after-ages of the church, whither pride and heady zeal may bring
professors of holiness. And when they are full ripe, to do by them
as at Munster, and in New England, that they may go no further
but their folly may be known to all : Amen. I have told you of
my thoughts of this long ago, in my Book of Baptism.
All these doubts I have here answered, that you may see how
necessary it is, that in all your troubles you be sure to distinguish
between matter of doubting and matter of humiliation. Alas, what
soul is so holy on the earth, but must daily say, " Forgive us our
trespasses ?" and cry out with Paul, " O wretched man that I am,

'28 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
who shall deliver me from this body of death?" But at tho same
time we may thank God, through our Lord Jesus Christ. If eve
ry sin should make us doubt, we should do nothing but doubt. I
know you may easily tell a long and a sad story of your sins ; how
you are troubled with this and that, and many a distemper, and
weak and wanting in every grace and duty, and have committed
many sins. But doth it follow that therefore you have no true
grace ? Learn therefore to be humbled for every sin, but not to
doubt of your sincerity and salvation for every sin.
Direct. XXX. ' Whatsoever new doubtings do arise in your soul,
see that you carefully discern whether they are such as must be
resolved from the consideration of general grace, or of special
grace. And especially be sure of this, that when you want or lose
your certainty of sincerity and salvation, you have presently re
course to the probability of it, and lose not the comforts of that.
Or if you should lose the sight of a probability of special grace, yet
see that you have recourse at the utmost to general grace, and never
let go the comforts of that at the worst.'
This rule is of unspeakable necessity and use for your peace and
comfort. Here are three several degrees of the grounds of com
fort. It is exceeding weakness for a man that is beaten from one
of these holds, therefore to let go the other two. And because he •
cannot have the highest degree, therefore to conclude that he hath
none at all.
I beseech you in all your doubtings and complainings, still re
member the two rules here laid down. 1 . All doubts arise not from
the same cause, and therefore must not have the same cure. Let
the first thing which you do upon every doubt, be this : To con
sider, whether it come from the unbelieving or low apprehensions
of the general grounds of comfort, or from the want of evidence of
special grace. For that which is a fit remedy for one of these, will
do little for the cure of the other. 2. If your doubting be only,
Whether you be sincere in believing, loving, hoping, repenting, and
obeying, then it will not answer this doubt, though you discern
never so much of God's merciful nature, or Christ's gracious office,
or the universal sufficiency of his death and satisfaction, or the free-
ness and extent of the promise of pardon. For I profess conside-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 529
rately, that I do not know in all the body of popery concerning
merits, justification, human satisfaction, assurance, or any other
point about grace, for which we unchurch them, that they err half
so dangerously as Saltmarsh, and such Antinomians, do in this point,
when they say, That Christ hath repented and believed for us ;
meaning it of that faith and repentance which he hath made the
conditions of our salvation. And that we must no more question
our own faith, than we must question Christ the object of it. It
will be no saving plea at the day of judgment to say, Though I re
pented not, and believed not, yet Christ died forme, or God is mer
ciful, or Christ repented and believed for me, or God made me a
free promise and gift of salvation, if I would repent and believe.
What comfort would such an answer give them? And therefore
doubtless it will not serve now to quiet any knowing Christian against
those doubts that arise from the want of particular evidence of spe
cial grace, though in their own place, the general grounds of com
fort are of absolute necessity thereto.
2. On the other side, If your doubts arise from any defect in
your apprehensions of general grace, it is not your looking after
marks in yourself that is the way to resolve them. I told you in
the beginning, that the general grounds of comfort lie in four par
ticulars (that square foundation which will bear up all the faith of
the saints.) First, God's merciful and inconceivable good and gra
cious nature, and his love to mankind. Secondly, The gracious
nature of the Mediator God and Man, with his most gracious, un
dertaken office of saving and reconciling. Thirdly, The suffici
ency of Christ's death and satisfaction for all the world, to save
them if they will accept him and his grace. I put it in terms be
yond dispute, because I would not build up believer's comforts on
points which godly divines do contradict (as little as may be.) Yet
I am past all doubt myself, that Christ did actually make satisfac
tion to God's justice for all, and that no man perisheth for want
of an expiatory sacrifice, but for want of faith to believe and apply
it, or for want of repentance and yielding to recovering grace. The
fourth is, The universal grant of pardon, and right to salvation, on
condition of faith and repentance. If your doubt arise from the
Vol. I. 67

530 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ignorance or overlooking of any of these, to these must you have re
course for your cure.
Where note, That all those doubts which come from the great
ness of your sin, as such that you think will not therefore be for
given, or that come from the sense of unworthiness (in a legal
sense,) or want of merit in yourself, and all your doubts, whether
God be willing to accept and forgive you, though you should re
pent and believe : or, whether any sacrifice was offered by Christ
for your sins ; I say, all these come from your ignorance or unbe
lief of some or all of the four general grounds here mentioned ; and
from them must be cured.
Note also in a special manner, That there is a great difference
between these four general grounds, and your particular evidences,
in point of certainty. For these four corner-stones are fast found
ed beyond all possibility of removal, so that they are always of as
undoubted certainty as that the heaven is over your head ; and they
are immutable, still the same. These you are commanded strictly
to believe with a divine faith, as being the clearly revealed truths
of God ; and if you should not believe them, yet they remain firm
and true, and your unbelief should not make void the universal
promise and grace of God. But your own evidences of special
grace are not so certain, so clear, or so immutable ; nor are you
bound to believe them, but to search after them that you may know
them. You are not bound by any word of God strictly to believe
that you do believe, or repent, but to try and discern it. This
then is the first part of this Direction, That you always discover
whether your troubles arise from low unbelieving, or ignorant
thoughts of God's mercifulness, Christ's gracious nature and of
fice, general satisfaction, or the universal promise : Or, whether
they arise from want of evidence of sincerity in yourself. And ac
cordingly in your thoughts apply the remedy.
The second part of the Direction is, that you hold fast probabili
ties of special grace, when you lose your certainty, and that you
hold fast your general grounds, when you lose both your former.
Never forget this in any of your doubts.
You say, your faith and obedience have such breaches and sac!
defects in them, that you cannot be certain that they are sincere.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 53J
Suppose it be so : Do you see no great likelihood or hopes yet that
diey are sincere ? II you do (as I think many Christians easily
may, that yet receive not a proportionable comfort) remember that
this is no small mercy, but matter of great consolation.
But suppose the worst, that you see no grace in yourself, yet
you cannot be sure you have none ; for it may be there, and you
not see it. Yea, suppose the worst, that y ou were sure that you
had no true grace at all, yet remember that you have still abun
dant cause of comfort in God's general grace. Do you think you
must needs despair, or give up all hope and comfort, or conclude
yourself irrecoverably lost, because you are graceless ? Why, be
it known to you, there is that ground of consolatioi in general grace,
that may make the hearts of the very wicked to leap for joy. Do
I need to prove that to you ? You know that -the Gospel is called,
" Glad tidings of salvation," and the preachers of it are to tell these
to whom they preach it, " Behold, we bring you tidings of great
joy, and glad tidings to all people." And you know before the
Gospel comes to men they are miserable. If then it be glad tidings,
and tidings of great joy to all the unconverted where it comes, why
should it not be so to you ? And where is your great joy ? If you
be graceless, is it nothing to know that God is exceeding merciful,
" slow to anger, ready to forgive, pardoning iniquities, transgres
sion, and sin," loving mankind ? Is it nothing to know that the
Lord hath brought infinite mercy and goodness down into human
flesh ? And hath taken on him the most blessed office of reconcil
ing, and is become the Lamb of God ? Is it nothing to you, that
all your sins have a sufficient sacrifice paid for them, so that you
are certain not to perish for want of a ransom ? Is it nothing to you
that God hath made such an universal grant of pardon and salva
tion to all that will believe ? And that you are not on the terms of
the mere law of works, to be judged for not obeying in perfection ?
Suppose you are never so certainly graceless, is it not a ground of
unspeakable comfort, that you may be certain that nothing can con
demn you, but a flat refusal or unwillingness to have Christ and
his salvation ? This is a certain truth, which may comfort a man
as yet unsanctified, that sin merely as sin shall not condemn him,

532 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
nor any thing in the world, but the final, obstinate refusal of the
remedy, which thereby leaveth all other sin unpardoned.
Now I would ask you this question in your greatest fears that
you are out of Christ : Are you willing to have Christ to pardon,
sanctify, guide, and save you, or not? If you are, then you are
a true believer, and did not know it. If you are not, if you will
but wait on God's word in hearing, and reading, and consider fre
quently and seriously ofthe necessity and excellency of Christ and
glory, and the evil of sin, and the vanity of the world, and will
but beg earnestly of God to make you willing, you shall find that
God hath not appointed you this means in vain, and that this way
will be more profitable to you than all your complainings. See
therefore when you are at the very lowest, that you forsake not the
comforts of general grace.
And indeed those that deny any general grace or redemption, do
leave poor Christians in a very lamentable condition. For, alas !
assurance of special grace (yea, or a high probability) is not so
common a thing as mere disputers against doubting have imagined.
And when a poor Christian is beaten from bis assurance (which
few have,) he hath nothing but probabilities ; and when he hath
no confident, probable persuasion of special grace, where is he
then ? And what hath he left to support his soul ? I will not so
far now meddle with that controversy, as to open further how this
opinion tends to leave most Christians in desperation, for all the
pretences it hath found. And I had done more, but that general
redemption or satisfaction, is commonly taught in the maintaining
of the general sufficiency of it, though men understand not how
they contradict themselves.
But perhaps you will say, ' This is cold comfort ; for I may as
well argue thus, Christ will damn sinners ; I am a sinner, there
fore he will damn me ; as to argue thus, Christ will save sinners ;
I am a sinner, therefore he will save me.' I answer, There is no
shew of soundness in either of these arguments. It is not a certain
ty that Christ will save you, that can be gathered from general
grace alone ; that must be had from assurance of special grace su
peradded to the general. But a conditional certainty you may
have from general grace only, and thus you may soundly and in-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT.

533

fallibly argue, ' God hath made a grant to every sinful man, of par
don and salvation through Christ's sacrifice, if they will but re
pent and believe in Christ ; but I am a sinful man, therefore God
hath made this a;rant of pardon and salvation lo me.'
Direct. XXlvl. ' If God do bless you with an able, faithful, pru
dent, judicious pastor, take him for your guide under Christ in the
way to salvation ; and open to him your case, and desire his ad
vice in all your extraordinary, pressing necessities, where you have
found the advice of other godly friends to be insufficient ; and this
not once or twice only, but as often as such pressing necessities
shall return. Or if your own pastor be more defective for such a
work, make use of some other minister of Christ, who is more
meet.' Here I have these several things to open to you. 1. That it is
your duty to seek this Direction from the guides of the church. 2.
When and in what cases you should do this. 3. To what end, and
how far. 4. What ministers they be that you should choose there
to. 5. In what manner you must open your case, that you may
receive satisfaction.
]. The first hath two parts, (1.) That you must open your
case. (2.) And that to your pastor. (1.) The devil hath great ad
vantage while you keep his counsel ; two are better than one ; for
if one of them fall, he hath another to help him. It is dangerous,
resisting such an enemy alone. An uniting of forces oft procured!
victory. God giveth others knowledge, prudence, and other gifts
for our good ; that so every member of the body may have need
of another, and each be useful to the other. An independency of
Christian upon Christian, is most unchristian ; much more of peo
ple on their guides. It ceaseth to be a member, which is separa
ted from the body ; and to make no use of tbe body or fellow
members, is next to separation from them. Sometimes bashful-
ness is the cause, sometimes self-confidence (a far worse cause ;)
but whatever is the cause of Christians smothering their doubts, the
effects are oft sad. The disease is oft gone so far, that the cure is
very difficult, before some bashful, or proud, or tender patients
will open their disease. The very opening of a man's grief to a

534 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING ANI) KEEPING
faithful friend, doth oft ease the heart of itself. (2.) And that this
should be done to your pastor, I will shew you anon.
2. But you must understand well when this is your duty. (1.)
Not in every small infirmity, which accompanies Christians in their
daily most watchful conversation. Nor yet in every lesser doubt,
which may be otherwise resolved. It is a folly and a wrong to
physicians to run to them for every cut finger or prick with a pin.
Every neighbor can help you in this. (2.) Nor except it be a
weighty case indeed, go not first to a minister. But first study the
case yourself, and seek God's direction : if that will not serve, open
your case to your nearest bosom friend that is godly and judicious.
(3.) And in these two cases always go to your pastor. In case more
private means can do you no good, then God calls you to seek fur
ther. If a cut finger so fester that ordinary means will not cure it,
you must go to the physician. If the case be weighty and dan
gerous ; for then none but the more prudent advice is to be trust
ed. If you be struck with a dangerous disease, I would not have
you delay so long, nor wrong yourself so much, as to stay while
you tamper with every woman's medicine, but go presently to the
physician. So if you either fall into any grievous sin, or any ter
rible pangs of conscience, or any great straits and difficulties about
matters of doctrine or practice, go presently to your pastor for ad
vice. The devil, and pride, and bashfulness, will do their utmost
to hinder you ; but see that they prevail not.
3. Next consider to what end you must do this. Not, (I.) Ei
ther to expect that a minister can of himself create peace in you ;
or that all your doubts should vanish as soon as ever you have open
ed your mind. Only the great Peace-maker, the Prince of peace,
can create peace in you : ascribe not to any the office of the Holy
Ghost, to be your effectual comforter. To expect more from man
than belongs to man, is the way to receive nothing from him, but to
cause God to blast to you the best endeavors. (2.) Nor must you
resolve to take all merely from the word of your pastor, as if he
were infallible : nor absolutely to judge of yourself as he judgeth.
For he may be too rigorous, or more commonly too charitable in
his opinion of you : there may be much of your disposition and
conversation unknown to him, which may hinder his right judging.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 536
But, (1.) You must use your pastor as the ordained instrument and
messenger ofthe Lord Jesus and his Spirit, appointed to speak a
word in season to the weary, and to shew to man his righteousness,
and to strengthen the weak hands and feeble knees ; yea, and
more, to bind and loose on earth, as Christ doth bind and loose in
heaven. As Christ and his Spirit do only save in the principal
place, and yet ministers save souls in subordination to them as his
instruments; Acts xxvi. 17, IS. I Tim. iv. 15, 16. James v.
20. So Christ and the Spirit are, as principal causes, the only
comforters ; but his ministers are comforters under him. (2.) And
that which you must expect from them are these two things. 1.
You must expect those fuller discoveries of God's will than you
are able to make yourself, by which you may have assurance of
your duty to God, and ofthe sense of Scripture, which expresseth
how God will deal with you : that so a clearer discovery of God's
mind may resolve your doubts. 2. In the mean time, till you can
come to a full resolution, you may and must somewhat stay your
self on the very judgment of your pastor: not as infallible, but as
a discovery ofthe probability of your good or bad estate; and so
of your duty also. Though you will not renounce your own un
derstanding, and believe any man when you know he is deceived,
or would deceive you, yet you would so far suspect your own rea
son and value another's, as to have a special regard to every man's
judgment in his own profession. If the physician tell you that your
disease is not dangerous, or the lawyer that your cause is good,
it will more comfort you than if another man should say as much.
It may much stay your heart till you can reach to clearer evidences
and assurance, to have a pastor that is well acquinted with you, and
is faithful and judicious, to tell you that he verily thinks that you
are in a safe condition. (3.) But the chief use of his advice is, not
so much to tell you what he thinks of you, as to give you Directions
how you may judge of yourself, and come out of your trouble : be
sides the benefit of his prayers to God for you.
4. Next let me tell you what men you must choose to open
your mind to : and they must be, (1.) Men of judgment and know
ledge, and not the ignorant, be they never so honest : else they
may deceive you, not knowing what they do ; either for want of

536 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING ANI) KEEPING
understanding the Scripture, and the nature of grace and sin ; or
for want of skill to deal with both weak consciences, and deep, de
ceitful hearts. (2.) They must be truly fearing God, and of expe
rience in this great work. For a troubled soul is seldom well re
solved and comforted merely out of a book, but from the book and
experience both together. Carnal or formal men will but make a
jest at the doubts of a troubled Christian ; or at least will give you
such formal remedies as will prove no cure : either they will per
suade you, as the Antinomians do, that you should trust God with
your soul, and never question your faith : or that you do ill to
trouble yourself about such things: or they will direct you only to
the comforts of general grace, and tell you only that God is mer
ciful, and Christ died for sinners ; which are the necessary found
ations of our peace ; but will not answer particular doubts of our
own sincerity, and of our interest in Christ : or else they wil make
you believe that holiness of heart and life (which is the thing you
look after) is it that troubled] you, and breeds all your scruples.
Or else with the Papists, they will send you to your merits for
comfort ; or to some vindictive penance in fastings, pilgrimages,
or the like ; or to some saint departed, or angel, or to the pardons
or indulgences of the pope ; or to a certain formal, carnal devotion,
to make God amends. (3.) They must be men of downright faith
fulness, that will deal plainly and freely, though not cruelly; and
not like those tender surgeons that will leave the cure undone for
fear of hurting : meddle not with men-pleasers and daubers, that
will presently speak comfort to you as confidently as if they had
known you twenty years, when perhaps they know little of your
heart or case. Deal not with such as resolve to humor you. (4.)
They must be men of fidelity, and well tried to be such, that you
must trust them with those secrets which you are called to reveal.
(5.) They must be "men of great staidness and wisdom, that they
may neither rashly pass their judgment, not set you upon unsound,
unwarrantable, or dangerous courses. (6.) It is suspicious if they
-be men that are so impudent as to draw out your secrets, and
screw themselves deeper into your privatest thoughts and ways
than is meet : yet a compassionate minister, when he seeth that
poor Christians do entangle themselves by keeping secret their

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. -">37
troubles, or else that they hazard themselves by hiding ihe great
est of their sins, like Achan, Saul, or Ananias and Sapphira, and
so play the hypocrites ; in these cases he may and must urge them
to deal openly. (7.) Above all be sure that those that you seek
advice of, be sound in the faith, and free from the two desperate
plagues of notorious false doctrine, and separating, dividing inclin
ations, that do but hunt about to make disciples to themselves.
There are two of the former sort, and three of the latter, that I
would charge you to take heed of (and yet all is but four.) 1>
Among those that err from the faith, (next to pagans, Jews, and
infidels, whether Ranters, Seekers, or Socinians, which I think few-
sober, godly men are so much in danger of, because of their ex
treme vileness,) I would especially have you avoid the Antinomi
ans, being the greatest pretenders to the right comforting afflicted
consciences in the world ; but upon my certain knowledge I dare
say, they are notorious subverters of the very nature of the Gos
pel, and that free grace which they so much talk of, and the great
dishonorers of the Lord Jesus, whom they seem so highly to ex
tol. ^ They are those mountebanks and quacksalvers that delude
the world by vain ostentation, and kill more than they will cure.
2. Next to them, take heed of Papists, who will go to Rome, to
saints, to angels, to merits, to the most carnal, delusory means for
comfort, when they should go to Scripture and to heaven for it.
And then take heed that you fall not into the hands of separa
ting dividers of Christ's church. The most notorious and danger
ous of them are of these three sorts. 1. The last mentioned, the
Papists : they are the most notorious schismatics and separatists
that ever God's church did know on earth. For my part, I think
their schism is more dangerous and wicked than the rest of their
false doctrine. The unmerciful, proud, self-seeking wretches,
would, like tbe Donatists, make us believe that God hath no true
church on earth but they ; and that all the Christians in Ethiopia,
Asia, Germany, Hungary, France, England, Scotland, Ireland,
Belgia, and the rest of the world, that acknowledge not their pope of
Rome to be head of all the churches in the world, are none of
Christ's churches, nor ever were. Thus do they separate from
all the churches on earth, and confine all religion and salvation to
Vol. I. 68

538 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
themselves, who so notoriously depart from Christ's way of salva
tion. Indeed the extreme diligence that tbey use in visiting the
sick, and soliciting all men to their church and way, is plainly to
get themselves followers ; and they are everywhere more indus
trious to enlarge the pope's kingdom than Christ's. So far are
they from studying the unity of the Catholic church, which they
so much talk of, that they will admit none to be of that church,
nor to be saved, but their own party, as if indeed the pope had the
keys of heaven. Indeed they are the most impudent sectaries and
schismatics on earth. 2. The next to them are the Anabaptists,
whose doctrine is not in itself so dangerous as their schism, and
gathering disciples so zealously to themselves. And so strange a
curse of God hath followed them hitherto, as may deter any sober
Christian from rash adventuring on their way. Even now when
they are higher in the world than ever they were on earth, yet do
the judicious see God's heavy judgment upon them, in their con
gregations and conversation. 3. Lastly, Meddle not with those
commonly called Separatists, for they will make a prey of you for
the increase of their party. I do not mean that you should sepa
rate from these two last, as they do from us, and have nothing to do
with them, nor acknowledge them Christians : but seek not their
advice, and make them not of your counsel. You will do as one
that goes to a physician that hath the plague, to be cured of a cut
finger, if you go for your comfort to any of these seducers. But if
you have a pastor that is sound in the main doctrines of religion,
and is studious of the unity and peace of the church, such a man
you may use, though in many things mistaken ; for he will notseek
to make a prey of you by drawing you to his party ; let him be
Lutheran, Calvinist, Arminian, Episcopal, Independent, or Pres
byterian, so he be sound in the main, and free from division. Thus
I have shewn you the qualifications of these men, that you must
seek advice of.
(8.) Let me next add this ; Let them be rather pastors than pri
vate men, if it may be ; and rather your own pastors than others,
if they are fit. For the first consider, 1. It is their office to be
guides of Christ's disciples under him, and to be spiritual physi
cians for the curing of souls. And experience telleth us (and

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 53U
sadly of late) what a curse followeth those that step beyond the
bounds of their calling by invading this office, and that God bless-
eth means to them that keep within his order; 1 Thess. v. 12, 13.
Heb. xiii. 7. 17. Not but that private men may help you in this,
as a private neighbor may give you a medicine to cure your dis
ease ? but you will not so soon trust them in any weighty case as
you will the physician. 2. Besides, ministers have made it the
study of dieir lives, and therefore are liker to understand it than
others. As for those that think long study no more conducible to
the knowledge of the Scriptures, than if men studied not at all,
they may as ^ell renounce reason, and dispute for preeminency of
beasts above men, as renounce study, which isbut the use of reason.
But it appears how considerately these men speak themselves, and
whence it comes, and how much credit a sober christian should
give them! Let them read Psalm i. 2, 3. Heb. v. 11 — 14.
1 Tim. iv. 13 — 16, and 2 Tim. ii. 15, and then let them return to
their wits. Paul commands Timothy, though he was from his
youth acquainted with the scriptures, " Meditate upon these things ;
give thyself wholly to them, that thy profiting may appear to all."
How much need have we to do so now ? 3. Also ministers are
usually most experienced in this work ; and wisdom requires you
no more to trust your soul, than you would your body, with an un
experienced man.
And if it may be (he being fit) let it be rather your own pas
tor than another : 1. Because it belongeth to his peculiar place
and charge, to direct the souls of his own congregation. 2. Be
cause he is likelier to know you, and to fit his advice to your es
tate, as having better opportunity than others to be acquainted with
your conversation.
5. Next consider, in what manner you must open your grief,
if you would have cure. (1.) Do it as truly as you can. Make the
matter neither better nor worse than it is. Specially take heed
of dealing like Ananias, pretending to open all (as he did to give
all) when you do but open some common infirmities, and hide ah
the most disgraceful distempers of your heart, and sins of your life.
The vomit of confession must work to the bottom, and fetch up ihat
hidden sin, which is it that continued! your calamity. Read Mr

540 DIRECTIONS FOR GETMING AND KEEP1EG
T. Hooker in his " Soul's Preparation," concerning this confession,
who shews you the danger of not going to the bottom.
(2.) You must not go to a minister to be cured merely by good
words, as wizards do by charms; and so think that all is well when
he hath spoken comfortably to you. But you must go for directions
for your own practice, that so the cure may be done by leisure when
you come home. Truly most even of the godly that I have known,
do go to a minister for comfort, as silly people go to a physician for
physic. If the physician could stroke them whole, or give them a
pennyworth of some pleasant stuff that would cure all in an hour,
then they would praise him. But alas, the cure will, not be done,
1. Without cost. 2. Nor without time and patience. 3. Nor
without taking down unpleasing medicines; and so, they let all
alone. So you come to a minister for advice and comfort, and
you look that his words should comfort you before he leaves you,
or at least, some short, small direction to take home with you.
But he tells you, if you will be cured you must more resolve against
that disquieting corruption and passion ; you must more meekly
submit to reproof; you must walk more watchfully and consciona-
bly with God and men ; and then you must not give ear to the
tempter, with many the like. He gives you, as I have done here,
a bill of thirty several Directions, and tells you, you must practice
all these. O this seems a tedious course :you are never the near
er comfort for hearing these; it must be by long and diligent prac
tising them. Is it not a foolish patient that will come home from
the physician and say, 'I have heard all that he said, but I am nev
er the better ?' So you say, ' I have heard ail that the minister said,
and I have never the more comfort.' But have you done all that he
bid you, and taken all the medicine that he gave you, ? Alas, the
cure is most to be done by yourself (under Christ) when you
come home. The minister is but the physician to direct you
what course to take for the cure. And then as silly people run
from one physician to another, hearing what all can say, and desi
rous to know what every man thinks of them, but thoroughly follow
the advice of none, but perhaps take one medicine from one man,
and one from another, and let most even of those lie by them in
the box, and so perish more certainly than if they never meddled

SPILITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 541
with hny at all ; so do most troubled souls hear what one man saith 7
and what another saith, and seldom thoroughly follow the advice of
any : but when one man's words do not cure them, they say, ' This
is not the man that God hath appointed to cure me.' And so an
other, and that is not the man : when they should rather say, ' This
is not the way,' than, ' This is not the man.' This lazy complain
ing is not it that will do the work, but faithful practising the Direc
tions given you.
But I know some will say, That it is near to Popish auricular
confession, which I here persuade christians to, and it is to bring
christians under the tyranny of the priests again, and make them
acquainted with all men's secrets, and masters of their consciences.
Answ. 1. To the last, I say to the railing devil of this age, no
more but " The Lord rebuke tbee." If any minister have wick
ed ends, let the God of heaven convert him, or root him out of
his church, and cast him among the weeds and briars. But is it not
the known voice of sensuality, and hell, to cast reproaches upon
the way and ordinances of God ? Who knoweth not that it is the
very office of the ministry, to be teachers and guides to men in
matters of salvation, and overseers of them ? and that they watch
for their souls, as those that must give an account, and the people,
therefore, are bound to obey them ? Heb. xiii. 7. 17. Should not
the shepherd know his sheep, and their strayings and diseases ;
how else shall he cure them ? Should not the physician 'hear the
patient open all his disease, yea, study to discover to the utmost
every thing he knows ; and all little enough to the cure ? A disease
unknown is unlike to be cured; and a disease well known is half
cured. Mr. Thomas Hooker saith truly, it is with many people as
with some ofer-modest patients, who having a disease in some se
cret place, they will not for shame reveal it to the physician till it
be past cure, and then they must lose their lives by their modes
ty : so do many by their secret and more disgraceful sins. Not
that every man is bound to open all his sins to his pastor ; but those
that cannot well be otherwise cured, he must ; either if the sense
ofthe guilt cannot be removed, and true assurance of pardon ob
tained : or else, if power against the sin be not otherwise obtained,
but that it still prevaileth ; in both these cases we must go to those

542 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
that God hath made our directors and guides. I am confident
many a thousand souls do long strive against anger, lust, flesh
pleasing, worldliness, and trouble of conscience to little purpose,
who if they would but have taken God's way, and sought for help,
and opened all their case to their minister, they might have been
delivered in a good measure long ago. Answ. 2. And for Popish con
fession, I detest it. We would not persuade men that there is a
necessity of confessing every sin to a minister, before it Can be par
doned. Nor do we do it in a perplexed formality only at one
time ofthe year ; nor in order to Popish pardons or satisfactions ;
but we would have men go for physic to their souls, as they do
for their bodies, when they feel they have need. And let me ad
vise all Christian congregations to practise this excellent duty more.
See that you knock oftener at your pastor's door, and ask his ad
vice in all your pressing necessities ; do not let him sit quietly in
his study for you ; make him know by experience, that the tenth
part of a mimstar's labor is not in the pulpit. If your sins are
strong, and you have wounded conscience deep, go for his advice
for a safe cure ; many a man's sore festers to damnation for want
of this ; and poor, ignorant and scandalous sinners have far more need
to do this than troubled consciences. I am confident, if the peo
ple of my congregation did but do their duty for the good of their
own souls in private, seeking advice of their ministers, and open
ing their rases to them, they would find work for ten ministers at least ;
and yet those two that they have, have more work than they are
able to do already. Especially ministers in small country congre
gations, might do abundance of good this way ; and their people
are much to blame that they come not oftener to them for advice ;
this were the way to make Christians indeed. The devil knows
this, and therefore so envies it, that he never did more against a
design in the world ; he hath got the maintenance alienated that
should have maintained them, that so they may have but one min
ister in a congregation, and then among the greater congregations
this work is impossible for want of instruments ; yea, he is about
getting down the very churches and settled ministry, if God will
suffer him. He setteth his instruments to rail at priests and disci
pline, and to call Chrit's yoke tyranny ; because while the garden

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 543
is hedged in, he is fain, with envy, to look over tho hedge. What
if a man (like those of our times) should come to a town that have
an epidemical pleurisy or fever, and say, ' Do not run like fools to
these physicians, they do but cheat you, and rob your purses, and
seek themselves, and seek to be lords of your lives.' It is possible
some do so ; but if by these persuasions the silly people should lose
their lives, how well had their new preacher befriended them ?
Such friends will those prove at last to your souls, that dissuade
you from obeying the guidance and discipline of your overseers, and
dare call the ordinances of the Lord of glory tyrannical, and re
proach those that Christ hath set over them. England will not have
Christ by his officers rule over them, and the several congrega
tions will not obey him. But he will make them know, before
many years are past, that they refused their own mercy, and knew
not the things that belong to their peace, and that he will be mas
ter at last in spite of malice, and the proudest of his foes. If
they get by this bargain of refusing Christ's government, and des
pising his ministers, and making the peace, unity, and prosperity
of his church, and the souls of men, a prey to their proud mis
guided fancies and passions, then let them boast of the bargain
when they have tried it. Only I would entreat one thing of them,
not to judge too confidently till they have seen the end.
And for all you tender-conscienced Christians, whom by the
ministry the Lord hath begotten or confirmed to himself, as ever
you will shew yourselves thankful for so great a mercy, as ever you
will hold that you have got, or grow to more perfection, and attain
that blessed life to which Christ hath given you his ministers to
conduct you ; see that you stick close to a judicious, godly, faith
ful ministry, and make use of them while you have them. Have
you strong lusts, or deep wounds in conscience, or a heavy bur
den of doubtings or distress? Seek their advice. God will have
his own ordinance and officers have the chief instrumental hand in
your cure. The same means ofttimes in another hand shall not
do it. Yet I would have you make use of all able private Chris
tians' help also.
I will tell you the reason why our ministers have not urged this
so much upon you, nor so plainly acquainted their congregations

544 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
with the necessity of opening your case to your minister, and seek
ing his advice.
1 . Some in opposition to Popery have gone too far on the other
extreme ; perhaps sinning as deeply in neglect, as the Papists do
in formal excess. It is a good sign that an opinion is true, when
it is near to error. For truth is the very next step to error. The
small thread of truth runs between the close adjoining extremes of
error. 2. Some ministers knowing the exceeding greatness of the bur
den, are loath to put themselves upon it. This one work, of giv
ing advice to all that ought to come and open their case to us, if
our people did but what they ought to do for their own safety, would
itself, in great congregations, be more than preaching every day in
the week. What then is all the rest of the work ? And how can
one man, yea, or five, do this to five thousand souls ? And then
when it lieth undone, the malicious reproachersrail at the ministers,
and accuse the people of unfitness to be church-members ; which
howsoever there may be some cause of, yet not so much as they
suggest ; and that unfitness would best be cured by the diligence
of more laborers, which they think to cure, by removing the few
that do remain.
3. Also some ministers seeing that they have more work than
they can do already, think themselves incapable of more, and there
fore that it is vaiu to put their people on it, to seek more.
4. Some ministers are over-modest, and think it to be unfit to
desire people to open their secrets to them ; in confessing their
sins and corrupt inclinations, and opening their wants ; and indeed
any ingenuous man will be backward to pry into the secrets of oth
ers. But when God hath made it our office, under Christ, to be
physicians to the souls of our people, it is but bloody cruelty to
connive at their pride and carnal bashfulness, or hypocritical cov
ering of their sins, and to let them die of their disease rather than we
will urge them to disclose it.
5. Some ministers are loath to tell people of their duty in this,
lest it should confirm the world in their malicious conceit, that we
should be masters of men's consciences, and would lord it over
them. This is as much folly and cruelty, as if the master and pi-

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 545
lot of the ship should let the mariners govern the ship by the major
vote, and run all on shelves, and drown themselves and him, and
all for fear of being thought lordly and tyrannical, in taking the gov
ernment of the ship upon himself, and telling the mariners that it
is their duty to obey him.
6. Most godly ministers do tell people in general, of the neces
sity of such a dependence on their teachers, as learners in the school
of Christ should have on them that are ushers under him the chief
master ; and they do gladly give advice to those that do seek to
them : but they do not so particularly and plainly acquaint people
with their duty, in opening to them the particular sores of their
souls. It is also the policy of the devil, to make people believe that
their ministers are too stout, and will not stoop to a compassionate
hearing of their case ; especially if ministers carry themselves
strangely, at too great a distance from their people. I would earn-
esdy entreat all ministers therefore to be as familiar, and as much
with their people as they can. Papists and other seducers, will
insinuate themselves into their familiarity, if we be strange. If you
teach them not in their houses, these will creep into their houses,
and lead them captive. I persuade others of my brethren to that
which myself am disabled from performing ; being by constant
weakness (besides unavoidable business) confined to my chamber.
But those that can perform it, will find this a most necessary and
profitable work. And let not poor people believe the devil, who
tells them that ministers are so proud, only to discourage them from
seeking their advice. Go try them once before you believe it.
Lastly, Remember this, that it is not enough that you once opened
your case to your pastor, but do it as often as necessity urgeth you
to call for his advice; though not on every light occasion. Live
in such dependence on the advice and guidance of your pastor (un
der Christ) for your soul, as you do on the advice of the physician
for your body. Read Mai. ii. 7. And let ministers read 6, 8, 9.
Direct. XXXII. ' As ever you would live in peace and com
fort, and well pleasing unto God, be sure that you understand and
deeply consider wherein the height of a christian life, and the
greatest part of our duty doth consist ; to wit, In a loving delight
Vol. 1. 69

546 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
in God, and a thankful and cheerful obedience to his will; and
then make this your constant aim, and be still aspiring after it, and
let all other affections and endeavors be subservient unto this.'
This one rule well practised, would do wonders on the souls of
poor Christians, in dispelling all their fears and troubles, and helping
not only to a settled peace, but to live in the most comfortable
state that can be expected upon earth. Write therefore these two
or three words deep in your understandings and memory ; that
the life which God is best pleased with, and we should be always
endeavoring, is, a loving delight in God through Christ ; and a
thankful and cheerful obedience to him. I do not say, that godly
sorrows, and fears, and jealousies are no duties ; but these are the
great duties, to which the rest should all subserve. Misappre
hending the state of duty, and the very nature of a Christian life,
must needs make sad distempers in men's hearts and conversa
tions. Many Christians look upon brokenheartedness, and much
grieving, and weeping for sin, as if it were the great thing that God
delighteth in, and requireth of them ; and therefore they bend all their
endeavors this way ; and are still striving with their hearts to break
them more, and wringing their consciences to squeeze out some
tears ; and they think no sermon, no prayer, no meditation, speeds
so well with them, as that which can help them to grieve or weep.
I am far from persuading men against humiliation and godly sor
row, and tenderness of heart. But yet I must tell you, that this is
a sore error that you lay so much upon it, and so much overlook
that great and noble work and state to which it tendeth. Do you
think that God hath any pleasure in your sorrows as such ? Doth
it do him good to see you dejected, afflicted and tormented ? Alas,
it is only as your sorrows do kill your sins, and mortify your fleshly
lusts, and prepare for your peace and joys, that God regards them.
Because God doth speak comfortably to troubled, drooping spirits,
and tells them that he delighteth in the contrite, and loveth the hum
ble, and bindeth up the brokenhearted ; therefore men misunder
standing him, do think they should do nothing, but be still breaking
their own hearts. Whereas God speaks it but partly to shew
his hatred to the proud, and partly to shew his tender compassions
to the humbled, that they might not be overwhelmed or despair.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 547
But, O Christians, understand and consider, that all your sorrows
are but preparatives to your joys ; and that it is a higher and
sweeter work that God calls you to, and would have you spend
your time and strength in. (1.) The first part of it is love : a
work that is wages to itself. He that knows what it is to live in
the love of God, doth know that Christianity is no tormenting and
discontented life. (2.) The next part is, "Delight in God, and in
the hopes and forethoughts of everlasting glory." Psal. xxxvii. 4,
" Delight thyself in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of
thy heart.". This is it that you should be bending your studies and
endeavors for, that your soul might be able to delight itself in God.
(3.) The third part is thankfulness and praise. Though I say not
as some, that we should be moved by no fears or desires of the
reward (that is, of God,) but act only from thankfulness (as though
we had all that we expect already) yet let me desire you to take
special notice of this truth ; that thankfulness must be the main
principle of all Gospel-obedience. And this is not only true of the
regenerate after faith, but even the wicked themselves, who are
called to repent and believe, are called to do it in a glad and
thankful sense of the mercy offered them in Christ. All the world
being fallen under God's wrath and deserved condemnation, and
the Lord Jesus having become a sacrifice and ransom for all, and
so brought all from that legal necessity of perishing which they
were under, the Gospel which brings them the news of this, is glad
tidings of great joy to them ; and the very justifying act which they
are called to, is, thankfully to accept Christ as one that hath already
satisfied for their sins, and will save them, if they accept him, and
will follow his saving counsel, and use his saving means ; and the
saving work which they must proceed in, is, thankfully to obey that
Redeemer whom they believe in. So that as general redemption
is the very foundation of the new world and its government so
thankfulness for this redemption is the very life of justifying faith
and Gospel obedience. And therefore the denial of this universal
redemption (as to the price and satisfaction) doth both disable wick
ed men (if they receive it) from coming to Christ by true justifying
faith (which is, the thankful acceptance of Christ as he is offered
with his benefits: and this thankfulness must be for what he hath

548 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
done in dying for us ; as well as for what he will do in pardoning
and saving us,) and it doth disable all true believers from Gospel,
grateful obedience, whenever they lose the sight of their evidences
of special grace (which, alas, how ordinary is it with them !) For
when they cannot have special grace in their eye to be thankful for,
according to this doctrine they must have none ; beeause they can
be no surer that Christ died for them, than they are that themselves
are sincere believers and truly sanctified. And when thankfulness
for Christ's death and redemption ceaseth, Gospel obedience ceas-
eth, and legal and slavish terrors do take place. Though the same
cannot be said of thankfulness for special renewing and pardoning
grace. (4.) The fourth part of the Christian life is cheerful obedience.
God loveth a cheerful giver, and so he doth in every part of obe
dience, " Because thou servedst not the Lord thy God with joy-
fulness and with gladness of heart for the abundance of all things,
thou shalt serve thy enemies in hunger and thirst," he. Deut.
xx viii. 47.
Will you now lay all this together, and make it for the time to
come your business, and try whether it will not be the truest way to
comfort, and make your life a blessed life ? Will you make it your
end in hearing, reading, praying, and meditation, to raise your sou]
to delight in God ? Will you strive as much to work it to this de
light as ever you did to work it to sorrow ? Certainly you have
more reason ; and certainly there is more matter of delight in the
face and love of God, than in all the things in the world besides.
Consider but the Scripture commands, and then lay to heart your
duty. Phil. iv. 4. " Rejoice in the Lord always, and again, I
say, rejoice." Chap. iii. 1. Zech. x. 7. Joel ii. 23. Isa. xii.
16. Psal. xxxiii. I, " Rejoice in the Lord O ye righteous, for
praise is comely for the upright." Psal. xcvii. 12. 1 Thess. v. 16,
" Rejoice evermore." 1 Pet. i. 6. 8. Rom. v. 2. John iv. 36.
Psal. v. 11. xxxiii. 21. xxxv. 9. Ixvi. 6. lxviii. 3, 4. lxxi. 23.
lxxxix. 16. cv. 3. cxlix. 2. xliii. 4. xxvii. 6. John xvi. 24.
Rom. xv. 13. xiv. 17, " The kingdom of God is in righteousness,
peace and joy in the Holy Ghost." Gal. v. 22. Psal. xxxii. 11.
'- Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice O ye righteous, and shout for

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 549
joy all ye that are upright in heart." Psal. cxxxii. 9. 16. v, 11.
xxxv. 27. Heb. iii. 18. With a hundred more die like. Have
you made conscience of this great duty according to its excellency
and these pressing commands of God? Have you made con
science of the duties of praise, thanksgiving, and cheerful obedi
ence, as much as for grieving for sin ? Perhaps you will say, « 1
cannot do it for want of assurance. If 1 knew that I were one of
the righteous, and upright in heart, then I could be glad, and shout
for joy.' Answ. 1. I have before shewed you how you may know
that ; when you discover it in yourself, see that you make more con
science of this duty. 2. You have had hopes and probabilities of
your sincerity. Did you endeavor to answer those probabilities in
your joys? 3. If you would but labor to get this delight in God,
it would help you to assurance ; for it would be one of your clear
est evidences.
O how the subtle enemy disadvantageth the Gospel, by the mis
apprehensions and dejected spirits of believers ! It is the very de
sign of the ever blessed God, to glorify love and mercy as highly in
the work of redemption, as ever he glorified omnipotency in the
work of creation. And he hath purposely unhinged the Sabbath
which was appointed to commemorate that work of power in crea
tion, to the first day of the week, that it might be spent as a week
ly day of thanksgiving and praise for the now more glorious work
of redemption, that love might not only be equally admired with
power, but even go before it. So that he hath laid the foundation
of the kingdom of grace in love and mercy; and in love and mercy
hath he framed the whole structure of the edifice ; and love and
mercy are written in legible indelible characters upon every piece.
And the whole frame of his work and temple-service, hath he so
composed, that all might be the resounding echos of love, and the
praise and glorious commemoration of love and mercy might be
the great business of our solemn assemblies. And the new crea
tion within us, and without us, is so ordered, that love, thankfulness,
and delight, might be both the way and the end. And the serpent
who most opposeth God where he seeketh most glory, especially
the glory of his grace, doth labor so successfully to obscure this
glory, that he hath brought multitudes of poor Christians to have

550 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
poor, low thoughts of the riches of his grace ; and to set every
sin of theirs against it, which should but advance it ; and even to
question the very foundation of the whole building, whether Christ
hath redeemed the world by his sacrifice. Yea, he puts such a
veil over the glory of the Gospel, that men can hardly be brought
to receive it as glad tidings, till they first have assurance of their
own sanctification ! And the very nature of God's kingdom is so un
known, that some men think it to be unrighteousness, and libertinism,
and others to be pensive dejections, and tormenting scruples and
fears ; and but few know it to be righteousness and peace, and joy
in the Holy Ghost. , And the vary business of a Christian's life and
God's service, is rather taken to be scrupling, quarrelling, and vex
ing ourselves and the church of God, than to be love and gratitude,
and a delighting our souls in God, and cheerfully obeying him.
And thus when Christianity seems a thraldom and torment ; and
the service of the world, the flesh, and the devil, seems the only
freedom, and quiet, and delight, no-wonder if the devil have more
unfeigned servants than Christ ; and if men tremble at the name
of holiness, and fly away from religion as a mischief. What can
be more contrary to its nature, and to God's design in forming it
than for the professors to live such dejected and dolorous lives ?
God calls men from vexation and vanity, to high delights and
peace ; and men come to God as from peace and pleasure to
vexation. All our preaching will do little to win souls from sensu
ality to holiness, while they look upon the sad lives of the profes
sors of holiness ; as it will more deter a sick man from meddling
with a physician, to see all he hath had in hand to lie languishing
in continual pains to their death, than all his words and promises
will encourage them. O what blessed lives might God's people
]ive, if they understood the love of God in the mystery of man's
redemption, and did addict themselves to the consideration and
improvement of it, and did believingly eye the promised glory, and
hereupon did make it the business of their lives to delight their souls
in him that hath loved them ! And what a wonderful success might
we expect to our preaching, if the holy delights and cheerful obe
dience of the saints did preach, as clearly to the eyes of the world,
as we preach loudly to their ears.

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 551
But flesh will be flesh yet awhile! And unbelief will be unbe
lief ! We are all to blame ! The Lord forgive our overlooking
his lovingkindness ; and our dishonoring the glorious Gospel of his
Son ; and our seconding Satan, in his contradicting of that design
which hath contrived God's glory in so sweet a way.
And now, Christian reader, let me entreat thee in the name
and fear of God, hereafter better to understand and practise thy
duty. Thy heart is better a thousand times in godly sorrow than
in carnal mirth, and by such sorrow it is often made better ; Eccles.
vii. 2 — 4. But never take it to be right till it be delighting itself
in God. When you kneel down in prayer, labor so to conceive
of God, and bespeak him that he may be your delight ; so do in
hearing and reading ; so do in all your meditations of God ; so do
in your feasting on the flesh and blood of Christ at his supper. Es
pecially improve the happy opportunity ofthe Lord's day, wherein
you may wholly devote yourselves to this work. And I advise
ministers and all Christ's redeemed ones, that they spend more of
those days in praise and thanksgiving, especially in commemoration
ofthe W'hole work of redemption (and not. of Christ's resurrection
alone) or else they will not answer the institution ofthe Lord. And
that they keep it as the most solemn day of thanksgiving, and be
briefer on that day in their confe ssions and lamentations, and
larger at other times ! O that the congregations of Christ through
the world were so well informed and animated that the main busi
ness of their solemn assemblies on that day might be to sound forth
the high praises of their Redeemer ; and to begin here the praises
of God and the Lamb, which they must perfect in heaven for ev
er ! How sweet a foretaste of heaven would be then in these so
lemnities ! And truly, let me tell you, my brethren of the minis
try, you should by private teaching and week-day sermons, so fur
ther the knowledge of your people, that you might not need to
spend so much of the Lord's day in sermons as the most godly use
to do ; but might bestow a greater part of it in psalms and solemn
praises to our Redeemer. And I could wish that the ministers of
England, to that end, would unanimously agree on some one
translation of the English Psalms in metre, better than that in com
mon use, and if it may be, better than any yet extant (not neglect-

652 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
ing the poetical sweetness under pretence of exact translating,) or
at least to agree on the best now extant ; (the London ministers may
do well to lead the way) lest that blessed part of God's solemn wor
ship should be blemished for want either of reformation or unifor
mity. And in my weak judgment, if hymns and psalms of praise
were new invented, as fit for the state of the Gospel church and
worship (to laud the. Redeemer come in the flesh, as expressly as
the work of grace is now express) as David's Psalms were fitted to
the former state and infancy ofthe church, and more obscure reve
lations of the Mediator and his grace, it would be no sinful, human
invention or addition ; nor any more want of warrant, than our
inventing the form and words of every sermon that we preach,
and every prayer that we make, or any catechism or confession
of faith. Nay, it may seem of so great usefulness, as to be next
to a necessity. (Still provided that we force not any to the use of
them that through ignorance may scruple it.) And if there be
any convenient parcels of the ancient church that are fitted to this
use, they should deservedly be preferred. I do not think I di
gress all this while from the scope of my discourse. For doubt
less if God's usual solemn worship on the Lord's days were more
fitted and directed to a pleasant, delightful, praising way, it would
do very much to frame the spirits of Christians to joyfulness, and
thankfulness, and delight in God ; than which there is no greater
cure for their doubtful, pensive, self-tormenting frame. O try
this, Christians, at the request of one that is moved by God to im
portune you to it ! God doth pity you in your sorrows ! But he
delighteth in you when you delight in him. See Isai. Iviii. 14.
compared with Zeph. iii. 17. And if sin interpose and hinder your
delights, believe it, a cheerful amendment and obedience is that
which will please God better than your self-tormenting fears. Do
not you like that servant better that will go cheerfully about your
work, and do it as well as he can, accounting it a recreation, and
will endeavor to mend where he hath done amiss, than him that
will at every step fall a crying, " O I am so weak, I can do noth
ing as I should ?" A humble sense of failings you will like ; but
not that your servant should sit still and complain when he should
be working ; nor that all your service should be performed with

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 553
weeping, disquietness and lamentations ; you had rather have your
servant humbly and modesdy cheerful, and not always dejected
for fear of displeasing you. O how many poor souls are overseen
in this ! You might easily perceive it even by the devil's opposi
tion and temptations. He will further you in your self-vexations
(when he cannot keep you in security and presumption,) but in
amending, he will hinder you with all his might. How oft have I
known poor, passionate creatures, that would vex and rage in
anger, and break out in unseemly language, to the disquieting of
all about them ; and others that would drop into other the like sins,
and when they have done, lament it, and condemn themselves ; and
yet would not set upon a resolute and cheerful reformation ! Nay,
if you do but reprove them for any sin, they will sooner say, ' If I
be so bad, God will condemn me for an hypocrite,' and so lie
down in disquietness and distress ; than they will say, ' I see my
sin, and I resolve to resist it, and I pray you warn me of it, and
help me to watch against it.' So that they would bring us to this
pass, that either we must let them alone with their sins, for fear of
tormenting them, or else we must cause them to lie down in terrors.
Alas, poor mistaken souls ! It is neither of these that God calls
for ! Will you do any thing save what you should do ? Must you
needs be esteemed either innocent, or hypocrites, or such as shall
be damned ? The thing that God would have is this : That you
would be glad that you see your fault, and thank him that shew-
eth it you, and resolvedly do your best to amend it, and this in
faith and cheerful confidence in Christ, flying to his Spirit for help
and victory. Will you please the devil so far, and so far contra
dict the gracious way of Christ, as that you will needs either sin
still or despair ? Is there not a middle between these two, to
wit, cheerful amendment ? Remember that it is not your vexa
tion or despair, but your obedience and peace, that God desireth.
That life is most pleasing to him, which is most safe and sweet to
you. If you say still, you cannot delight in God, I say again, Do but
acknowledge it the great work that God requireth of you, and make
it your daily aim, and care, and business, and then you will more
easily and certainly attain it. But while you know not your work,
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554 DIRECTIONS FOR GETTING AND KEEPING
or so far mistake it, as to think it consisteth more in sorrows and
fears ; and never endeavor, in your duties or meditations, to raise
your soul to a delight in God, but rather to cast down yourself
with still poring on your miseries, no wonder then if you be a stran
ger to this life of holy delight.
By this time I find myself come up to the subject of my book of
the "Saints' Rest;" wherein having said so much to direct and
excite you, for the attainment of these spiritual and heavenly de
lights, I will refer you to it, for your help in that work ; and add
no more here, but to desire you, through the course of your life,
to remember, That the true love of God in Christ, and delight in
him, and thankful, cheerful obedience to him, is the great work
of a Christian, which God is best pleased with, and which the bless
ed angels and saints shall be exercised in for ever.
And O thou the blessed God of love, the Father of mercy, the
Prince of peace, the Spirit of consolation, compose the disquieted
spirits of thy people, and the tumultuous, disjointed state of thy
churches ; and pardon our rashness, contentions, and blood-guilti
ness, and give us not up to the state of the wicked, who are like
the raging sea, and to whom there is no peace ! Lay thy com
mand on our winds and waves, before thy shipwrecked vessel per
ish ; and rebuke that evil spirit whose name is Legion, which hath
possessed so great a part of thine inheritance. Send forth the spir
it of judgment and meekness into thy churches, and save us from
our pride and ignorance with their effects ; and bring our feet into
the way of peace, which hitherto we have not known. O close
all thy people speedily in loving consultations, and earnest inqui
ries after peace. Let them return from their corruptions, conten
tions, and divisions, and jointly seek thee, asking the way to Zion
with their faces thitherward ; saying, Come let us join ourselves to
the Lord in a perpetual covenant that shall not be forgotten. Blast
all opposing policies and powers. Say to these dead and dry
bones, Live. And out of these ruins do thou yet erect a city of
righteousness, where thy people may dwell together in peaceable
habitations ; and in the midst thereof a temple to thy holiness : let
the materials of it be verity and purity : let the Redeemer be its
foundation : let love and peace cement it into unity : let thy laver

SPIRITUAL PEACE AND COMFORT. 555
and covenant be the doors ; and holiness to the Lord be engraven
thereon ; that buyers and sellers may be cast out, and the com
mon and unclean may know their place ; and let no desolating
abomination be there set up. But let thy people all in one name,
in one faith, with one mind, and one soul, attend to thine instruc
tions, and wait for thy laws, and submit unto thine order, and re
joice in thy salvation ; that the troubled spirits may be there exhila
rated, the dark enlightened, and all may offer thee the sacrifice of
praise, (without disaffections, discords, or divisions ;) that so thy
people may be thy delight, and thou mayest be the chiefest de
light of thy people ; and they may please thee through him that
hath perfectly pleased thee. Or if our expectation of this happi
ness on earth be too high, yet give us so much as may enlighten
our eyes, and heal those corruptions which estrange us from thee,
and may propagate thy truth, increase thy church, and honor thy
holiness, and may quicken our desires, and strengthen us in our
way, and be a foretaste to us of the everlasting rest.

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST
AND SALVATION,
TOO OFT THE ISSUE OF GOSPEL INVITATIONS
MANIFESTED IN
A SERMON
P REACHED AT LAURENCE JURY IN LONDON.

TO THE READER.
Reader,
Being called on in London to preach, when I had no time to
study, I was fain to preach some sermons that I had preached in the
country a little before. This was one, which I preached at St.
Laurence, in the church where my reverend and faithful brother
in Christ, Mr. Richard Vines, is pastor. When I came home I was
followed by such importunities by letters to print the sermon, that
I have yielded thereunto, though I know not fully the ground of
their desires. Seeing it must abroad, will the Lord but bless it to
the cure of thy contempt of Christ and grace, how comfortable may
the occasion prove to thee~ and me ! It is the slighting of Christ
and salvation, that undoes the world. O happy man if thou es
cape but this sin ! Thousands do split their souls on this rock
which they should build them on. Look into the world, among
rich and poor, high and low, young and old, and see whether it
appear not by the whole scope of their conversations that they set
more by something else than Christ ? And for all the proclama
tions of his grace in the Gospel, and our common professing our
selves to be his disciples, and to believe the glorious things that he
hath promised us in another world, whether it yet appear not by
the deceitfulness of our service, by our heartless endeavors to ob
tain his kingdom, and by our busy and delightful following of the
world, that the most who are called Christians do yet in their
hearts make light of Christ ; and if so, what wonder if they perish
by their contempt ! Wilt thou but soberly peruse this short dis
course, and consider well as thou readest of its truth and weight,
till thy heart be sensible what a sin it is to make light of Christ and
thy own salvation, and till the Lord that bought thee be advanced
in the estimation and affections of thy soul, thou shalt hereby re
joice, and fulfil the desires of
Thy servant in the faith,
RICHARD BAXTER.

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.

MATTHEW xxii. 5.
But they made light of it.
The blessed Son of God, that thought it not enough to die for
the world, but would himself also be the preacher of grace and sal
vation, doth comprise in this parable the sum of his Gospel. By
the king that is here said to make the marriage, is meant God the
Father, that sent his Son into the world to cleanse them from their
sins, and espouse them to himself. By his Son, for whom the
marriage is made, is meant the Lord Jesus Christ, the eternal Son
of God, who took to his godhead the nature of man, that he might
be capable of being their Redeemer when they had lost themselves
in sin. By the marriage is meant the conjunction of Christ to the
soul of sinners, when he giveth up himself to them to be their Sav
ior, and they give up themselves to him as his redeemed ones, to
be saved and ruled by him ; the perfection of which marriage will
be at the day of judgment, when the conjunction between the whole
church and Christ shall be solemnized. The word here translated
marriage, rather signifieth the marriage-feast ; and the meaning is,
that the world is invited by the Gospel to come in and partake of
Christ and salvation, which comprehendeth both pardon, justifica
tion, and right to salvation, and all other privileges of the mem
bers of Christ. The invitation is God's offer of Christ and salva
tion in the Gospel ; the servants that invite them are the preachers
of the Gospel, who are sent forth by God to that end ; the prepa
ration for the feast there mentioned, is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ,
and the enacting of a law of grace, and opening a way for revolt
ing sinners to return to God. There is a mention of sending second
messengers, because God useth not to take the first denial, but to
exercise his patience till sinners are obstinate. The first persons
invited are the Jews. Upon their obstinate refusal, they are sentenced

560

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.

to punishment, and the Gentiles are invited ; and not only invited,
but by powerful preaching, and miracles, and effectual grace, com
pelled ; that is infallibly prevailed with to come in. The number
of them is so great that the house is filled with guests. Many come
sincerely, not only looking at the pleasure of the feast, that is at
the pardon of sin, and deliverance from the wrath of God, but also
at the honor of the marriage, that is, of the Redeemer, and their
profession by giving up themselves to a holy conversation. But
some come in only for the feast, that is justification by Christ, hav
ing not the wedding garment of sound resolution for obedience in
their life, and looking only at themselves in believing, and not to
the glory of their Redeemer ; and these are sentenced to everlast
ing misery, and speed as ill as those that came not in at all ; see
ing a faith that will not work is but like that ofthe devil, and they
that look to be pardoned and saved by it are mistaken, as James
sbeweth, chap. ii. 24.
The words of my text contain a narration ofthe ill entertainment
that the Gospel findeth with many to whom it is sent, even after a
first and second invitation. They make light of it, and are taken
up with other things. Though it be the Jews that were first guil
ty, they have too many followers among us Gentiles to this day.
Doct. ' For all the wonderful love and mercy that God hath
manifested in giving his Son to be the Redeemer of the world, and
which the Son hath manifested in redeeming them by his blood ;
for all his full preparation by being a sufficient sacrifice for the sins
of all ; for all his personal excellencies, and that full and glorious
salvation that he hath procured ; and for all his free offers of these,
and frequent and earnest invitation of sinners ; yet many do make
light of all this, and prefer their worldly enjoyments before it. The
ordinary entertainment of all is by contempt.'
Not that all do so, or that all continue to do so, who were once
guilty of it : for God hath his chosen, whom he will compel to come
in. But till the Spirit of grace overpower the dead and obstinate
hearts of men, they hear the Gospel as a common story, and the
great matters contained in it go not to the heart.
The method in which 1 shall handle this doctrine is this.
I. I shall shew you what it is that men make light of.

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 561
II. What this sin of making light of it is.
III. The cause of the sin.
IV. The use ofthe doctrine.
I. The thing that carnal hearers make light of is, 1. The doc
trine of the Gospel itself, which they hear regardlessly. 2. The
benefits offered them therein : which are, 1. Christ himself. 2.
The benefits which he giveth.
1. Concerning Christ himself, the Gospel, ( 1 .) Declareth his person
and nature, and the great things that he hath done and suffered for
man : his redeeming him from the wrath of God by his blood, and
procuring a grant of salvation with himself. (2.) Furthermore, the
same Gospel maketh an offer of Christ to sinners, that if they will
accept him on his easy and reasonable terms, he will be their Sav
ior, the physician of their souls, their husband, and their head.
2. The benefits that he offereth them are these. (I.) That with
these blessed relations to him, himself and interest in him, they
shall have the pardon of all their sins past, and be saved from God's
wrath, and be set in a sure way of obtaining a pardon for all the
sins that they shall commit hereafter, so they do but obey sincere
ly, and turn not again to the rebellion of their unregeneracy. (2.)
They shall have the Spirit to become their guide and sanctifier,
and to dwell in their souls, and help them against their enemies, and
conform them more and more to his image, and heal their diseases,
and bring them back to God. . (3.) They shall have right to ever
lasting glory when this life is ended, and shall be raised up there
to at the last ; besides many excellent privileges in the waj , in
means, preservation, and provision, and the foretaste of what they
shall enjoy hereafter. All these benefits the Gospel offereth to them
that will have Christ on his reasonable terms. The sum of all is
in 1 John v. 11, 12, " This is the record, that God hath given us
eternal life, and this life is in his Son : he that hath the Son hath
life, and he that hath not the Son hath not life."
II. What this sin ofthe making light ofthe Gospel is? 1. To
make light ofthe Gospel is to take no great heed to what is spoken,
as if it were not a certain truth, or else were a matter that little
concerned them ; or as if God had not written these things for
them. 2. When the Gospel doth not affect men, or go to their
Vol. I. 71

562 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
hearts ; but though they seem to attend to what is said, yet men
are not awakened by it from their security, nor doth it work in any
measure such holy passion in their souls, as matters of such ever
lasting consequence should do ; this is making light of the Gospel
of salvation. When we tell men what Christ hath done and suf
fered for their souls, it scarcely moveth them : We tell them of
keen and cutting truths, but nothing will pierce them : We can
make them hear, but we cannot make them feel ; our words take
up in the porch of their ears and fancies, but will not enter into the
inward parts ; as if we spake to men that had no hearts or feeling ;
this is a making light of Christ and salvation ; (Acts xxviii. 26,
27 ;) hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand ; seeing ye
shall see, and shall not perceive. For the heart of this people is
waxen gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, their eyes are
closed, &,c.
3. When men have no high estimation of Christ and salvation,
but whatsoever they may say with their tongues, or dreamingly
and speculatively believe, yet in their serious and practical thoughts
they have a higher estimation ofthe matters of this world, than they
have of Christ, and the salvation that he hath purchased ; this is
a making light of him. When men account the doctrine of Christ
to be but a matter of words and names, as Gallio, (Acts xviii- 4,)
or as Festus, (Acts xxv. 19,) a superstitious matter about one Je
sus who was dead, and Paul saith is alive ; or ask the preachers
of the Gospel, as ihe Athenians, " What will this babbler say ?"
(Acts xvii. 18;) this is contempt of Christ.
4. When men are informed of the truths of the Gospel, and on
what terms Christ and his benefits may be had, and how it is the
will of God that they should believe and accept the offer ; and he
commandeth them to do it upon pain of damnation ; and yet men
will not consent, unless they have Christ on terms of their own :
They will not part with their worldly contents, nor lay down their
pleasures, and profits, and honor at his feet, as being content to
take so much of them only as he will give them back, and as is
consistent with his will and interest, but think it is a hard saying,
that they must forsake all in resolution for Christ ; this is a making
li ht of him and their salvation. When men might have part in

MAKING LIGHT HI' I'll HIST. 503
him and all his benefits if they would, and they will not, unless
they may keep the world too ; and are resolved to please their flesh,
what ever comes of it ; this is a high contempt of Christ and ever
lasting life. (Matt. xiii. 2!, 22 ; Luke xviii. 23.) You may find
examples of such as I here describe.
5. When men will promise fair, and profess their willingness to
have Christ on his terms, and to forsake all for him, but yet do
stick to the world and their sinful courses ; and when it comes to
practice, will not be removed by all that Christ hath done and said,
this is making light of Christ and salvation. (Jer. xliii. 2.)
III. The causes of this sin are the next thing to be inquired af
ter. It may seem a wonder that ever men, that have the use of
their reason, should be so sottish as to make light of matters of
such consequence. But the cause is,
1. Some men understand not the very sense ofthe words ofthe
Gospel when they hear it, and how can they be taken with that
which they understand not ? Though we speak to them in plain
English, and study to speak it as plain as we can, yet people have
so estranged themselves from God, and the matters of their own
happiness, that they know not what we say, as if we spoke in
another language, and as if they were under that judgment, Isa.
xxviii. 11, " With stammering lips, and with another tongue will
he speak to this people."
2. Some that do understand the words that we speak, yet be
cause they are carnal, understand not the matter. For the natural
man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, neither can he
know them, because they are spiritually discerned. (1 Cor. ii.
14.) They are earthly, and these things are heavenly. (John iii.
12.) These things of the Spirit are not well known by bare hear
say, but by spiritual taste, which none have but those that are
taught by the Holy Ghost, (1 Cor. ii. 12,) that we may know the
things that are given us of God.
3. A carnal mind apprehended] not a suitableness in these spir
itual and heavenly things to his mind, and therefore he sets light
by them, and hath no mind of them. When you tell him of ever
lasting glory, he heareth you as if you were persuading him to go
play with the sun : they are matters of another world, and out of

564 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
his element ; and therefore he hath no more delight in them lhan a
fish would have to be in the fairest meadow, or than a swine hath
in a jewel, or a dog in a piece of gold : They may be good to oth
ers but he cannot apprehend them as suitable to him, because he
hath a nature that is otherwise inclined : he savoureth not the things
ofthe Spirit. (Rom. viii. 5.)
4. The main cause of the slighting of Christ and salvation, is a
secret root of unbelief in men's hearts. Whatsoever they may pre
tend, they do not soundly and thoroughly believe the word of God :
They are taught in general to say the Gospel is true ; but they
never saw the evidence of its truth so far, as thoroughly to per
suade them of it ; nor have they got their souls settled on the in
fallibility of God's testimony, nor considered of the truth of the
particular doctrines revealed in the Scripture, so far as soundly to
believe them. O did you all but soundly believe the words of this
Gospel, of the evil of sin, of the need of Christ, and what he hath
done for you, and what you must be and do if ever you will be
saved by him ; and what will become of you for ever if you do it
not ; I dare say it would cure the contempt of Christ, and you
would not make so light ofthe matters of your salvation. But men
do not believe while they say they do, and would face us down
that they do, and verily think that they do themselves. There is a
root of bitterness, and an evil heart of unbelief, that makes them
depart from the living God. (Heb. ii. 12 ; iv. 1, 2. 6.) Tell
any man in this congregation that he shall have a gift often thou
sand pounds, if he will go to London for it; if he believe you, he
will go ; but if he believe not, he will not ; and if he will not go,
you may be sure he believeth not, supposing that he is able. I
know a slight belief may stand with a wicked life : such as men
have of the truth of a prognostication, it may be true, and it may
be false ; but a true and sound belief is not consistent with so great
neglect of the things that are believed.
5. Christ and salvation are made light of by the world, because of
their desperate hardness of heart. The heart is hard naturally,
and by custom in sinning made more hard, especially by long abuse
of mercy, and neglect of the means of grace, and resisting the
Spirit of God. Hence it is that men are turned into such stones :

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 565
and till God cure them of the stone of the heart, no wonder if they
feel not what they know, or regard not what we say, but make
light of all; it is hard preaching a stone into tears, or making a
rock to tremble. You may stand over a dead body long enough,
and say to it, ' O thou carcase, when thou hast lain rotting and
mouldered to dust till the resurrection, God will then call thee to
account for thy sin, and cast thee into everlasting fire,' before you
can make it feel what you say, or fear the misery that is never so
truly threatened. When men's hearts are like the highway that is
trodden to hardness by long custom in sinning, or like the clay
that is hardened to a stone by the heat of those mercies that should
have melted them into repentance ; when they have consciences
seared with a hot iron, as the apostle speaks, (1 Tim. iv. 2 ;) no
wonder then if they be past feeling, and working all uncleanness
with greediness do make light of Christ and everlasting glory. O
that this were not the case of too many of our hearers ! Had we
but living souls to speak to, they would hear, and feel, and not
make light of what we say. I know they are naturally alive, but
they are spiritually dead, as Scripture witnesseth. (Ephes. ii. 3.)
O if there were but one spark ofthe life of grace in them, the doc
trine of salvation by Jesus Christ would appear to them to be the
weightiest business in the world ! O how confident should I be,
methinks, to prevail with men, and to take them off this world, and
bring them to mind the matters of another world, if I spake but to
men that had life, and sense, and reason ! But when we speak to
blocks and dead men, how should we be regarded ! O how sad a
case are these souls in, that are fallen under this fearful judgment
of spiritual madness and deadness! To have a blind mind, and a
hard heart, to be sottish and senseless, (Mark iv. 12 ; John xii. 40,)
lest they should be converted, and their sin should be forgiven
them !
6. Christ and salvation are made light of by the world, because
they are wholly enslaved to their sense, and taken up with lower
things : The matters of another world are out of sight, and so far
from their senses, that they cannot regard them ; but present things
are nearer them, in their eyes, and in their hands : There must be
a living faith to prevail over sense, before men can be so taken with

566

WAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.

things that are not seen, though they have the word of God for
their security, as to neglect and let go things that are still be
fore their eyes. Sense works with great advantage, and therefore
doth much in resisting faith where it is. No wonder then if it carry
all before it, where there is no true and lively faith to resist, and to
lead the soul to higher things : This cause of making light of Christ
and salvation is expressed here in my text : One went to his farm,
another to his merchandise : Men have houses and lands to look
after ; they have wife and children to mind : they have their body
and outward estate to regard, therefore they forget that they have
a God, a Redeemer, a soul to mind ; these matters of the world
are still with them. They see these, but they see not God, nor
Christ, nor their souls, nor everlasting glory. These things are
near at hand, and therefore work naturally, and so work forcibly ;
but the other are thought on as a great way off, and therefore too
distant to work on their affections, or be at the present so much re
garded by them. Their body hath life and sense, therefore if
they want meat, or drink, or clothes, will feel their want, and tell
them of it, and give them no rest till their wants be supplied, and
therefore they cannot make light of their bodily necessities ; but
their souls in spiritual respects are dead, and therefore feel not their
wants, but will let them alone in their greatest necessities ; and be
as quiet wheri they are starved and languishing to destruction, as if
all were well, and nothing ailed them. And hereupon poor peo
ple are wholly taken up in providing for the body, as if they had
nothing else to mind. They have their trades and callings to fol
low, and so much to do from morning to night, that they can find
no time for matters of salvation ; Christ would teach them, but they
have no leisure to hear him : the Bible is before them, but they
cannot have while to read it : a minister is in the town with them,
but they cannot have while to go to inquire of him what ttiey should
do to be saved : And when they do hear, their hearts are so full of
the world, and carried away with these lower matters, that they
cannot mind the things which they hear. They are so full of the
thoughts, and desires, and cares of this world, that there is no
room to pour into them the water of life : The cares of the world
do choke the word, and make it become unfruitful. (Matt. xiii.

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.

56 7

22.) Men cannot serve two masters, God and mammon ; but
they will lean to the one, and despise the other. (Matt. vi. 24.)
He that loveth the world, the love ofthe Father is not in him.
(1 John ii. 15, 16.) Men cannot choose but set light by Christ
and salvation, while they set so much by any thing on earth : It is
that which is highly esteemed among men that is abominable in the
sight of God. (Luke xvi. 15.) O this is the ruin of many thousand
souls! It would grieve the heart of any honest Christian to see
how eagerly this vain world is followed every where, and how lit
tle men set by Christ, and the world to come: To compare the
care that men have for the world, with the care of their souls ; and
the time that they lay out on the world, with that time they lay
out for their salvation : To see how the world fills their mouths,
their hands, their houses, their hearts, and Christ hath little more
than a bare title : To come into their company, and hear no dis
course but of the world ; to come into their houses, and hear and
see nothing but for the world, as if this world would last for ever,
or would purchase them another. When I ask sometimes the min
isters ofthe Gospel how their labors succeed, they tell me, ' Peo
ple continue still the same, and give up themselves wholly to the
world ; so that they mind not what ministers say to them, nor will
'give any full entertainment to the word, and all because ofthe de
luding world :' And O that too many ministers themselves did not
make light of that Christ whom they preach, being drawn away
with the love of this world ! In a word, men of a worldly disposi
tion do judge of things according to worldly advantages, therefore
Christ is slighted, " He is despised and rejected of men, they hide
their faces from him, and esteem him not, as seeing no beauty or
comeliness in him, that they should desire him." (Isa. Iiii. 3.)
7. Christ and salvation are made light of, because men do not
soberly consider ofthe truth and weight of these necessary things.
They suffer not their minds so long to dwell upon them, till they
procure a due esteem, and deeply affect their heart; did they be
lieve them and not consider of them, how should they work ! O
when men have reason given them to think and consider of the
things that most concern them, and yet they will not use it, this
causeth their contempt.

56S MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
8. Christ and salvation are made light of, because men were
never sensible of their sin and misery, and extreme necessity of
Christ and his salvation. Their eyes were never opened to see them
selves as they are ; nor their hearts soundly humbled in the sense
of their condition. If this were done, they would soon be brought
to value a Savior : a truly broken heart can no more make light
of Christ and salvation, than a hungry man of his food, or a sick
man of the means that would give ease : but till then our words
cannot have access to thir hearts : While sin and misery are made
light of, Christ and salvation will be made light of : but when these
are perceived an intolerable burden, then nothing will serve the
turn but Christ. Till men be truly humbled, they can venture
Christ and salvation for a lust, for a little worldly gain, even for less
than nothing : but when God hath illuminated them, and broken
their hearts, then they must have Christ or they die ; all things
then are loss and dung to them in regard ofthe excellent knowledge
of Christ. (Phil. iii. 8.) When they are at once pricked in their
hearts for sin and misery, then they cry out, " Men and brethren,
what shall we do ?" (Acts ii. 37.) When they are awakened by
God's judgments, as the poor jailor, then they cry out, " Sirs,
what shall I do to be saved ?" (Acts xvi. 30.) This is the reason
why God will bring men so low by humiliation, before he brings
them to salvation.
9. Men take occasion to make light of Christ by the common
ness of the Gospel. Because they do hear of it evory day, the fre
quency is an occasion to dull their affections ; I say, an occasion,
for it is no just cause. Were it a rarity it might take more with
them ; but now, if they hear a minister preach nothing but these
saving truths, they say, ' We have these every day :' They make
not light of their bread or drink, their health or life, because they
possess them every day ; they make not light of the sun because
it shineth every day ; at least they should not, for the mercy is the
greater ; but Christ and salvation are made light of because they
hear of them often ; ' This is,' say they, ' a good, plain, dry ser
mon :' Pearls are trod in the dirt where they are common ; they
loathe this dry manna : " The full soul loathes the honey-comb ;
but to the hungry every bitter thing is sweet." (Prov. xxvii. 7.)

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 56'.)
10. Christ and salvation are made light of, because of this dis
junctive presumption ; either that he is sure enough theirs already,
and God that is so merciful, and Christ that hath suffered so much
for them, is surely resolved to save them, or else it may easily be
obtained at any time, if it be not yet so. A conceited facility to
have a part in Christ and salvation at any time doth occasion men
to make light of them. It is true, that grace is free, and the offer
is universal, according to the extent of the preaching of the Gos
pel ; and it is true, that men may have Christ when they will ;
that is, when they are willing to have him on his terms ; but he
that hath promised thee Christ if thou be willing, hath not promis
ed to make thee willing : and if thou art not willing now, how canst
thou think thou shalt be willing hereafter ? If thou canst make
thine own heart willing, why is it not done now ? Can you do it
better when sin hath more hardened it, and God may have given
thee over to thyself ? O sinners ! you might do much, though you
are not able of yourselves to come in, if you would now subject
yourselves, to the working of the Spirit, and set in while the gales of
grace continue : But did you know what a hard and impossible
thing it is to be so much as willing to have Christ and grace, when
the heart is given over to itself, and the Spirit hath withdrawn its
former invitations, you would not be so confident of your own
strength to believe and repent; nor would you make light of Christ
upon such foolish confidence. If indeed it be so easy a matter as
you imagine, for a sinner to believe and repent at any time, how
comes it to pass that it is done by so few ; but most of the world
do perish in their impenitency, when they have all the helps and
means that we can afford them ? It is true, ihe thing is very
reasonable and easy in itself to a pure nature ; but while man is
blind and dead, these things are in a sort impossible lo him, which
are never so easy to others. It is the easiest and sweetest life in
the world to a gracious soul to live in the love of God, and the de
lightful thoughts ofthe life to come, where all their hope and hap
piness lieth : but to a worldly, carnal heart it is as easy to remove
a mountain as to bring them to this. However, these men are
their own condemners : for if they think it so easy a matter to re
pent and believe, and so to have Christ, and right to salvation,
Vol. I. 72

570 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
then have they no excuse for neglecting this which they thought so
easy. O wretched, impenitent soul ! what mean you to say when
God shall ask you, Why did you not repent and love your Re
deemer above the world, when you thought it so easy that you
could do it at any time ?
IV. Use 1. We come now to the application : and hence you
may be informed of the blindness and folly of all carnal men : How
contemptible are their judgments that think Christ and salvation
contemptible ! And how little reason there is why any should be
moved by them, or discouraged by any of their scorns or contra
dictions. How shall we sooner know a man to be a fool, than if he know
no difference between dung and gold ! Is there such a thing as
madness in the world, if that man be not mad that sets light by
Christ, and his own salvation, while he daily toils for the dung of
the earth ? And yet what pity is it to see that a company of poor,
ignorant souls will be ashamed of godliness, if such men as these
do but deride them! Or will thinkhardlyofaholy life, if such as these
do speak against it ! Hearers, if you see any set light by Christ
and salvation, do you set light by that man's wit, and by his words,
and hear the reproaches of a holy life, as you would hear the
words of a madman : not with regard, but with a compassion of
his misery.
Use 2. What wonder if we and our preaching be despised, and
the best ministers complain of ill success, when the ministry ofthe
apostles themselves did succeed no better ! What wonder if for all
that we can say or do, our hearers still set light by Christ and
their own salvation, when the apostles's hearers did the same !
They that did second their doctrine by miracles : if any men could
have shaken and torn in pieces the hearts of sinners, they could
have done it : If any could have laid them at their feet, and
made them all cry out as some, " What shall we do ?" it would have
been they. You may see then that it is not merely for want of
good preachers that men make light of Christ and salvation : The
first news of such a thing as the pardon of sin and the hopes of glo
ry, and the danger of everlasting misery, would turn the hearts of
men within them, if they were as tractable in spiritual matters as in
temporal : but alas, it is far otherwise. It must not seem any

WAKING LIGHT OF t'HRIST. 571
strange thing, nor must it too much discourage the preachers of
the Gospel, if when they have said all that they can devise to say,
to win the hearts of men to Christ, the most do still slight him,
and while they bow the knee to him, and honor him- with their lips,
do yet set so light by him in their hearts, as to prefer every fleshly
pleasure or commodity before him. It will be thus with many : let
us be glad that it is not thus with all.
Use 3. But for closer application, seeing this is the great con
demning sin, before we inquire after it in the hearts of our hearers,
it beseems us to begin at home, and see that we who are preach
ers ofthe Gospel be not guilty of it ourselves. The Lord forbid that
they that have undertaken the sacred office of revealing the excel
lencies of Christ to the world, should make light of him themselves,
and slight that salvation which they do daily preach. The Lord
knows we are all of us so low in our estimation of Christ, and do
this great work so negligently, that we have cause to be ashamed
of our best sermons ; but should this sin prevail in us, we were the
most miserable of all men. Brethren, I love not censoriousness ;
yet dare not befriend so vile a sin in myself or others, under pre
tence of avoiding it : especially when there is so great necessity
that it should be healed first in them that make it their work to heal
it in others. O that there were no cause to complain that Christ and
salvation are made light of by the preachers of it ! But, 1. Do
not the negligent studies of some speak it out ? 2. Doth not their
dead and drowsy preaching declare it ? Do not they make light
of the doctrine they preach, that do it as if they were half asleep,
and feel not what they speak themselves ?
3. Doth not the carelessness of some men's private endeavors
discover it ? What do they for souls ? how slightly do they re
prove sin ? How little do they when they are out of the pulpit for
the saving of men's souls !
4. Doth not the continued neglect of those things wherein the in
terest of Christ consisted] discover it ? I . The church's purity and
reformation. 2. Its unity.
5. Doth not the covetous and worldly lives of too many discover
it, losing advantages for men's souls for a little gain to themselves?
And most of this is because men are preachers before they are

572 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
Christians, and tell men of that which they never felt themselves.
Of all men on earth there are few that are in so sad a condition as
such ministers : and if indeed they do believe that Scripture which
they preach, methinks it should be terrible to them in their study
ing and preaching it.
Use 4. Beloved hearers, the office that God hath called us to,
is by declaring the glory of his grace, to help under Christ to the
saving of men's souls. I hope you think not that I come hither to
day on any other errand. The Lord knows I had not set a foot
out of doors but in hope to succeed in this work for your souls. I
have considered, and often considered, What is the matter that so
many thousands should perish when God hath done so much for
their salvation ; and I find this that is mentioned in my text is the
cause. It is one of the wonders of the world, that wiien God hath
so loved the world as to send his Son, and Christ hath made a satis
faction by his death sufficient for them all, and offereth the bene
fits of it so freely to them, even without money or price, that yet
the most of the world should perish ; yea, the most of those that
are thus called by his word ! Why, here is the reason ; when
Christ hath done all this, men make light of it. God hath shewed
that he is not unwilling that men should be restored to God's favor
and be saved ; but men are actually unwilling themselves. God
takes not pleasure in the death of sinners, but rather that they re
turn and live. (Ezek. xxxiii. 11.) But men take such plea
sure in sin, that they will die before they will return. The Lord
Jesus was content to be their physician, and hath provided them
a sufficient plaister of his own blood : but if men make light of it,
and will not apply it, what wonder if they perish after all ! This
Scripture giveth as the reason of their perdition. This, sad expe
rience tells us, the most of the world is guilty of. It is a most la
mentable thing to see how most men do spend their care, their time,
their pains, for known vanities, while God and glory are cast aside :
that he who is all should seem to them as nothing ; and that which
is nothing should seem to them as good as all ; that God should set
mankind in such a race where heaven or hell is their certain end,
and that they should sit down, and loiter, or run after the childish
toys of the world, and so much forget the prize that they should

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. •¦> ' ''
run for. Were it but possible for one of us to see the whole of this
business, as the All-seeing God doth ; to see at one view both
heaven and hell, which men are so near ; and see what most men
in the world are minding, and what they are doing every day, it
would be the saddest sight that could be imagined. O how should
we marvel at their madness, and lament their self-delusion ! O
poor distracted world ! what is it you run after ? and what is it that
you neglect ? If God had never told them what they were sent
into the world to do, or whither they were going, or what was be
fore them in another world, then they had been excusable ; but
he hath told them over and over, till they were weary of it. Had
he left it doubtful there had been some excuse ; but it is his sealed
word, and they profess to believe it, and would take it ill of us if
we should question whether they do believe it or not.
Beloved, I come not to accuse any of you particularly of this
crime ; but seeing it is the commonest cause of men's destruction,
I suppose you will judge it the fittest matter for our inquiry, and
deserving our greatest care for the cure. To which end I shall, i.
Endeavor the conviction of the guilty, ii. Shall give them such
considerations as may tend to humble and reform them. iii. I
shall conclude with such direction as may help them that are wil
ling to escape the destroying power of this sin. And for the first,
consider, i. It is the case of most sinners to think themselves freest from
those sins that they are most enslaved to ; and one reason why we
cannot reform them, is because we cannot convince them of then-
guilt. It is the nature of sin so far to blind and befool the sinner,
that he knoweth not what he doth, but thinketh he is free from it
when it reigneth in him, or when he is committing it : It bringeth
men to be so much unacquainted with themselves, that they know
not what they think, or what they mean and intend, nor what they
love or hate, much less what they are habituated and disposed to.
They are alive to sin, and dead to all the reason, consideration,
and resolution that should recover them, as if it were only by their
sinning that we must know they are alive. May I hope that you
that hear me to-day are but willing to know the truth of your case,
and then I shall be encouraged to proceed to an inquiry. God will

i174 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
judge impartially, why should not we do so ? Let me, there
fore, by these following questions, try whether none of you are
slighters of Christ and your own salvation. And follow me, I be
seech you, by putting them close to your own hearts, and faithful
ly answering them.
1. Things that men highly value will be remembered ; they will
be matter of their freest and sweetest thoughts.
Do not those then make light of Christ and salvation that think
of them so seldom and coldly in comparison of other things ? Fol
low thy own heart, man, and observe what it daily runneth out
after ; and then judge whether it make not light of Christ.
We cannot persuade men to one hour's sober consideration what
they should do for an interest in Christ, or in thankfulness for his
love, and yet they will not believe that they make light of him.
2. Things that we highly -value will be matter of our discourse ;
the judgment and heart will command the tongue. Freely and de
lightfully will our speech run after them.
Do not those then make light of Christ and salvation, that shun
the mention of his name, unless it be in a vain or sinful use ? Those
that love not the company where Christ and salvation is much talk
ed of, but think it troublesome, precise discourse : that had rather
hear some merry jests, or idle tales, or talk of their riches or busi
ness in the world ? When you may follow them from morning to
night, and scarce have a savoury word of Christ ; but perhaps some
slight and weary mention of him sometimes ; judge whether these
make not light of Christ and salvation. How seriously do they
talk of the world? (Psal. cxliv. 8, 11.) and speak vanity ! But
how heartlessly do they make mention of Christ and salvation !
3. The things that we highly value we would secure the posses
sion of, and therefore would take any convenient course to have
all doubts and fears about them well resolved. Do not those men
then make light of Christ and salvation that have lived twenty or
thirty years in uncertainty whetherifhey have any part in these or not,
and yet never seek out for the right resolution of their doubts ? Are
all that hear me this day certain they shall be saved ? O that they
were ! O, had you not made light of salvation, you could not so
easily bear such doubtings of it ; you could not rest till you had

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 07J.
made it sure, or done your best to make it sure. Have you nobo
dy to inquire of that might belp you in such a work ? Why you
have ministers that are purposely appointed to that office. Have
you gone to them, and told them the doubtfulness of your case,
and asked their help in the judging of your condition ? Alas, min
isters may sit in their studies from one year to another, before ten
persons among one thousand will come to them on such an errand !
Do not these make light of Christ and salvation ? When the Gos
pel pierceth the heart indeed, they cry out, "Men and brethren,
what shall we do to be saved ?" (Acts xvi. 30 ; ix. 6 :) Trembling
and astonished, Paul cries out, " Lord, what wilt thou have me
to do?" And so did the convinced Jews to Peter. (Acts ii. 37.)
But when hear we such questions ?
4. The things that we value do deeply affect us, and some mo
tions will be in the heart according to our estimation of them. O
sirs, if men made not light of these things, what workings would
there be in the hearts of all our hearers ! What strange affections
would it raise in them to hear of the matters ofthe world to come !
How would their hearts melt before the power ofthe Gospel ! What
sorrow would be wrought in the discovery of their sins ! What
astonishment at the consideration of their misery ! What unspeaka
ble joy at the glad-tidings of salvation by the blood of Christ !
What resolution would be raised in them upon the discovery of
their duty ! O what hearers should we have, if it were not for
this sin ! Whereas now we are more likely to weary them, or
preach them asleep with matters of this unspeakable moment. We
talk to them of Christ and salvation till we make their heads ache :
little would one think by their careless carriage that they heard
and regarded what we said, or thought we spoke at all to them.
5. Our estimation of things will be seen in the diligence of our
endeavors. That which we most highly value, we shall think
no pains too great to obtain. Do not those men then make light of
Christ and salvation, that think all too much that they do for them ;
that murmur at his service, and think it too grievous for them to
endure ? That ask of his service as Judas of the ointment, ' What
need this waste ? Cannot men be saved without so much ado ?
This is more ado than needs.' For the world they will labor all

576 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
the day, and all their lives; but for Christ and salvation they are
afraid of doing too much. Let us preach to them as long as we
will, we cannot bring them to relish or resolve upon a life of holi
ness Follow them to their houses, and you shall not hear them
•read a chapter, nor call upon God with their families once a day ;
nor will they allow him that one day in seven which he hath separa
ted to his service. But pleasure, or worldly business, or idleness,
must have a part. And many of them are so far hardened as to re
proach them that will not be as mad as themselves. And is not
Christ worth the seeking ? Is not everlasting salvation worth more
than all this? Doth not that soul make light of all these, that
thinks his ease more worth than they ? Let but common sense
judge. 6. That which we most highly value, we think we cannot buy
too dear : Christ and salvation are freely given, and yet the most
of men go without them, because they cannot enjoy the world and
them together. They are called but to part with that which would
hinder them from Christ, and they will not do it. They are call
ed but to give God his own, and to resign all to his will, and let
go the profits and pleasures of this world, when they must let go
either Christ or them, and they will not. They think this too dear
a bargain, and say they cannot spare these things : they must hold
their credit with men ; they must look to their estates : How shall
they live else ? They must have their pleasure, whatsoever be
comes of Christ and salvation : as if they could live without Christ
better than without these : as if they were afraid of being losers by
Christ, or could make a saving match by losing their souls to gain
the world. Christ hath told us over and over, that if we will not
forsake all for him we cannot be his disciples. (Matt, x.) Far are
these men from forsaking all, and yet will needs think that they are
his disciples indeed.
7. That which men highly esteem, they would help their friends
to as well as themselves. Do not those men make light of Christ
and salvation, that can take so much care to leave their children
portions in the world, and do so little to help them to heaven ? That
provide outward necessaries so carefully for their families, but do
so little to the saving of their souls ? Their neglected children

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 577
and friends will witness, that either Christ, or their chrildren's
souls, or both, were made light of.
8. That which men highly esteem, they will so diligently seek
after, that you may see it in the success, if it be a matter within
their reach. You may see how many make light of Christ, by the
little knowledge they have of him, and the little communion with
him, and communication from him ; and the little, yea, none of
his special grace in them. Alas ! how many ministers can speak
it to the sorrow of their hearts, that many of their people know al
most nothing of Christ, though they hear of him daily ; nor know
they what they must do to be saved. If we ask them an account
of these things, they answer as if they understood not what we say
to them, and tell us they are no scholars, and therefore think they
are excusable for their ignorance. O if these men had not made
light of Christ, and their salvation, but had bestowed but half so
much pains to know and enjoy him, as they have done to under
stand the matters of their trades and callings in the world, they
would not have been so ignorant as they are : They make light of
these things, and therefore will not be at the pains to study or learn
them. When men that can learn the hardest trade in a few years,
have not learned a catechism, nor how to understand their creed,
under twenty or thirty years' preaching, nor cannot abide to be
questioned about such things ; doth not this shew that they have
slighted them in their hearts ? How will these despisers of Christ
and salvation be able one day to look him in the face, and to give
an account of these neglects ?
ii. Thus much I have spoken in order to your conviction. Do not
some of your consciences by this time smite you, and say, ' I am
the man that have made light of my salvation ?' If they do not, it
is because you make light of it still, for all that is said to you. But
because, if it be the will of the Lord, I would fain have this damn
ing distemper cured, and am loath to leave you in such a despe
rate condition, if I knew how to remedy it, I will give you some
considerations, which may move you, if you be men of reason and
understanding, to look better about you ; and I beseech you to
weigh them, and make use of them as we go, and lay open your
Vol. I. 73

57S MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
hearts to the work of grace, and sadly bethink you what a case you
are in, if you prove such as make light of Christ.
Consider, 1. Thou makest light of him that made not light of
thee who didst deserve it. Thou wast worthy of nothing but con
tempt. As a man, what art thou but a worm to God ? As a sin
ner, thou art far viler than a toad : Yet Christ was so far from
making light of thee and thy happiness, that he came down into
the flesh, and lived a life of suffering, and offered himself a sacri
fice to the justice which thou hadst provoked ; that thy miserable
soul might have a remedy. It is no less than miracles of love and
mercy, that he hath shewed to us : and yet shall we slight them
after all ?
Angels admire them, whom they less concern, (1 Pet. i. 12,)
and shall redeemed sinners make light of them ? What barbarous,
yea, devilish, yea, worse than devilish ingratitude is this ! The
devils never had a Savior offered them, but thou hast, and dost
thou yet make light of him ?
2. Consider the work of man's salvation by Jesus Christ, is the
masterpiece of all the works of God, wherein he would have his
love and mercy to be magnified. As the creation declared] his
goodness and power, so doth redemption his goodness and mercy ;
he hath contrived the very frame of his worship so, that it shall
much consist in the magnifying of this work ; and after all this, will
you make light of it ? "His name is wonderful." (Isa. ix. 6.)
" He did the work that none could do." (John xv. 24.) " Great
er love could none shew than his." (John xv. 13.) How great
was the evil and misery that he delivered us from ? The good
procured for us ? All are wonders, from his birth to his ascen
sion, from our new birth to our glorification, all are wonders of
matchless mercy : and yet do you make light of them !
3. You make light of matters of greatest excellency and moment
in the world : You know not what it is that you slight : Had you
well known, you could not have done it. As Christ said to the
woman of Samaria, (John iv. 10,) Hadst thou known who it is
that speaketh to thee, thou wouldst have asked of him the waters
of life : Had they known, they would not have crucified the Lord
of glory, (1 Cor. ii. S :) So had you known what Christ is, you

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 579
would not have made light of him ; had you been one day in heav
en, and but seen what they possess, and seen also what miserable
souls must endure that are shut out, you would never sure have
made so light of Christ again.
O sirs, it is no trifles or jesting matters that the Gospel speaks
of. I must needs profess to you, that when I have the most se
rious thoughts of these things myself, lam ready to marvel that
such amazing matters do not overwhelm the souls of men : that the
greatness of the subject doth not so overmatch our understandings
and affections, as even to drive meri beside themselves, but that
God hath always somewhat allayed it by the distance : much more
that men should be so blockish as to make light of them. O Lord,
that men did but know what everlasting glory and everlasting tor
ments are. Would they then hear us as they do? Would they
read and think of these things as they do ? I profess I have been
ready to wonder, when I have heard such weighty things deliver
ed, how people can forbear crying out in the congregation ; much
more how they can rest till they have gone to their ministers, and
learned what they should do to be saved, that this great business
might be put out of doubt. O that heaven and hell should work no
more on men ! O that everlastingness should work no more ! O
how can you forbear when you are alone to think with yourselves
what it is to be everlastingly in joy or in torment ! I wonder that
such thoughts do not break your sleep ; and that they come not in
your mind when you are about your labor ! I wonder how you
can almost do any thing else ! How you can have any quietness
in your minds ! How you can eat, or drink, or rest, till you have
got some ground of everlasting consolations ! Is that a man, or a
corpse, that is not affected with matters of this moment ? that can
be readier to sleep than to tremble when he heareth how he must
stand at the bar of God ? Is that a man, or a clod of clay, that can
rise and lie down without being deeply affected with his everlasting
estate ? that can follow his worldly business, and make nothing
of the great business of salvation or damnation ; and that when they
know it is hard at hand ! Truly sirs, when I think of the weight
ofthe matter, I wonder at the very best of God's saints upon earth
that they are no better, and do no more in so weighty a case. I

580 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
wonder at those whom the world accounteth more holy than needs,
and scorns for making too much ado, that they can put off Christ
and their souls with so little : that they pour not out their souls in
every supplication : that they are not more taken up with God :
that their thoughts be not more serious in preparation for their ac
count. I wonder that they be not a hundred times more strict in
their lives, and more laborious and- unwearied in striving for the
crown, than they are. And for mj self, as I am ashamed of my
dull and careless heart, and of my slow and unprofitable course of
life ; so the Lord knows I am ashamed of every sermon that I
preach. When I think what I have been speaking of, and who
sent me, and what men's salvation or damnation is so much con
cerned in it, I am ready to tremble, lest God should judge me as
a slighter of his truth, and the souls of men, and lest in the best
sermon I should be guilty of their blood. Methinks we should not
speak a word to men in matters of such consequence without tears,
or the greatest earnestness that possibly we can. Were not we too
much guilty ofthe sin which we reprove it would be so. Whether
we are alone, or in company, methinks our end, and such an end,
should be still in our mind, and as before our eyes ; and we should
sooner forget any thing, and set light by any thing, or by all things,
than by this.
Consider 4. Who is it that sends this weighty message to you :
Is it not God. himself? Shall the God of heaven speak, and men
make light of it ? You would not slight the voice of an angel, or a
prince. 5. Whose salvation is it that you make light of? Is it not your
own ? Are you no more near or dear to yourselves than to make
light of your own happiness or misery ? Why sirs, do you not
care whether you be saved or damned ? Is self-love lost ? Are
you turned your own enemies ? As he that slighteth his meat
doth slight his life ; so if you slight Christ, whatsoever you
may think, you will find it was your own salvation that you slighted.
Hear what he saith, " All they that hate me love death. (Prov.
viii. 36.)
6. Your sin is greater, in that you profess to believe the Gospel
which you make so light of. For a professed infidel to do it, that

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 581
believes not that ever Christ died, or rose again ; or doth not be
lieve that there is a heaven or hell, this were no such marvel ; but
for you that make it your creed, and your very religion, ae- call
yourselves Christians, and have been baptized into this faith, and
seemed to stand to it, this is the wonder, and hath no excuse.
What ! believe that you shall live in endless joy or torment, and yet
make no more of it to escape torment, and obtain that joy ! What !
believe that God will shortly judge you; and yet make no more
preparation for it ! Either say plainly, ' I am no Christian, I do
not believe these wonderful things, I will believe nothing but what
I see ;' or else let your hearts be affected with your belief, and live
as you say you do believe. What do you think when you repeat
the creed, and mention Christ's judgment and everlasting life ?
7. What are these things you set so much by, as to prefer them
before Christ and the saving of your souls? Have you found a
better friend, a greater and surer happiness than this? Good
Lord ! What dung is it that men make so much of, while they set
so light by everlasting glory ! What toys are they that they are
daily taken up with, while matters of life and death are neglected !
Why, sirs, if you had every one a kingdom in your hopes, what
were it in comparison of the everlasting kingdom ? I cannot but
but look upon all the glory and dignity of this world, lands and
lordships, crowns and kingdoms, even as on some brain-sick, beg
garly fellow, that borroweth fine clothes, and plays the part of a
king or a lord for an hour on a stage, and then comes down, and
the sport is ended, and they are beggars again. Were it not for
God's interest in the authority of magistrates, or for the service
they might do him, I should judge no better of them. For as to
their own glory it is but a smoke : what matter is it whether you live
poor or rich, unless it were a greater matter, to die rich than it is ?
You know well enough that death levels all : What matter is it at
judgment, whether you be to answer for the life of a rich man or
a poor man ? Is Dives then any better than Lazarus ? O that
men knew what a poor deceiving shadow they grasp at, while they
let go the everlasting substance ! The strongest, and richest, and
most voluptuous sinners, do but lay in fuel for their sorrows, while
they think- they are gathering together a treasure. Alas! they are

582 MAKING ilGHT OF CHRIST.
asleep, and dream that they are happy ; but when they awake what
a change will they find ? Their crown is made of thorns : their
pleasure hath such a sting as will stick in the heart through all eter
nity^ except unfeigned repentance do prevent it. O how sadly
will these wretches be convinced ere long, what a foolish bargain
they made in selling Christ and their salvation for these trifles !
Let your farms and merchandise then save you if they can ; and
do that for you that Christ would have done. Cry then to thy Baal
to save thee ! O what thoughts have drunkards and adulterers,
&,c. of Christ, that will not part with the basest lust, for him ! " For
a piece of bread," saith Solomon, "such -men do transgress."
(Prov. xxviii. 21.)
8. To set so light by Christ and salvation is a certain mark that
thou hast no part in them, and, if thou so continue, that Christ will
set as light by thee : " Those that honor him he will honor, and
those that despise him shall be lightly esteemed," (1 Sam. ii. 30.)
Thou wilt feel one day that thou canst not live without him. Thou
wilt confess then thy need of him ; and then thoumayest go look
for a Savior where thou wilt; for he will be no Savior for thee
hereafter, that wouldst not value him, and submit to him here :
Then who will prove the loser by thy contempt ? O what a thing
will it be for a poor miserable soul to cry to Christ for help in the
day of extremity, and to hear so sad an answer as this ! Thou
didst set light by me and niy law in the day of thy prosperity, and
I will now set as light by thee in thy adversity. (Read Prov. i. 24.
to the end.) Thou that as Esau didst sell thy birthright for a mess
of pottage, shalt then find no place for repentance, though thou
seek it with tears. (Heb. xii. 17.) Do you think that Christ shed
his blood to save them that continue to make. light of it ? And to
save them that value a cup of drink or a lust before his salvation ?
I tell you, sirs, though you set light by Christ and salvation, God
doth not so : he will not give them on such terms as these : he
valueth the blood of his Son, and the everlasting glory ; and he
will make you value them if ever you have them. Nay, this will
be thy condemnation, and leaveth no remedy. All the world can
not save him that sets light by Christ. (Heb. ii. 3 ; Luke xiv. 24.)
None of them shall taste of his supper. (Matt. x. 37.) Nor can

BAKING LIGHT 0$; CHRIST. 583
you blame him to deny you what you made light of yourselves.
Can you find fault if you miss of the salvation which you slighted ?
9. The time is near when Christ and salvation will not be made
light of as now they are. When God hath shaken those careless
souls out of their bodies, and you must answer for all your sins in
your own name ; O then what would you give for a Saviour !
When a thousand bills shall be brought in against you, and none to
relieve you ; then you will consider, ' O ! Christ would now have
stood between me and the wrath of God : had I not despised him,
he would have answered all.' When you see the world hath left
you, and your companions in sin have deceived themselves and
you, and all your merry days are gone ; then what would you give
for that'Christ and salvation that now you account not worth your
labor ! Do you think, when you see the judgment set, and you
are doomed to everlasting perdition for your wickedness, that you
should then make as light of Christ as now ? Why will you not
judge now, as you know you shall judge then ? Will he then be
worth ten thousand worlds, and is he not now worth your highest
estimation, and dearest affection ?
10. God will not only deny thee that salvation thou madest light
of, but he will take from thee all that which thou didst value before
it. He that most highly esteems Christ shall have him, and the crea
tures so far as they are good here, and him without the creature
hereafter, because the creature is not useful ; and he that sets more
by the creature than by Christ, shall have some of the creature
without Christ here, and neither Christ nor it hereafter.
So much of these considerations, which may shew the true face
of this heinous sin.
What think you now, friends, of this business ? Do you not
see by this time what a case that soul is in, that maketh light of
Christ and salvation ? What need then is there that you should
take heed lest this should prove your own case ! The Lord knows
it is too common a case. Whoever is found guilty at the last of
this sin, it were better for that man he had never been born. It
were hetter for him he had been a Turk or Indian, that never
had heard the name of a Savior, and that never had salvation of
fered to him. For such men "have no cloak for their sin." (John

*
584 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
xv. 22.) Besides all the rest of their sins, they have this killing
sin to answer for, which will undo them. And this will aggravate
their misery, that Christ whom they set light by must be their
judge, and for this sin will he judge them. O that such would now
consider how they will answer that question that Christ put to their
predecessors, " How will ye escape the damnation of hell?"
(Matt, xxiii. 33 ;) or " How shall we escape if we neglect so great
salvation ?" ( Heb. ii. 3.) Can you escape without a Christ : or
will a despised Christ save you then ? If he be accursed that sets
light by father or mother, (Deut. xxvii. 16,) what then is he that
sets light by Christ ? It was the heinous sin of the Jews, that
among them were found such as set light by father and mother.
(Ezek. xxii. 7.) But among us, men slight the Father of Spirits !
In the name of God, brethren, Ibeseech you to consider how you
will then bear his anger which now you make light of ! You that
cannot make light of a little sickness or want, or of natuial death,
no, not of a toothache, but groan as if you were undone ; how
will you then make light of the fury of the Lord, which will burn
against the contemners of his grace ! Doth it not behoove you be
forehand to think of these things ?
iii. Hitherto I have been convincing you of the evil ofthe sin, and
the danger that followeth : I come now to know your resolution for
the time to come. What say you ? Do you mean to set as light
by Christ and salvation as hitherto you have done ; and to be the
same men after all this ? I hope not. O let not your ministers
that would fain save you, be brought in as witnesses against you to
condemn you : at least, I beseech you, put not this upon me.
Why, sirs, if the Lord shall say to us at judgment, Did you never
tell these men what Christ did for their souls, and what need they
had of him, and how nearly it did concern them to look to their
salvation, that they made light of it ? — we must needs say the truth ;
Yea, Lord, we told them of it as plainly as we could ; we would
have gone on our knees to them if we had thought it would have
prevailed ; we did entreat them as earnestly as we could to consid
er these things : they heard of these things every day ; but, alas,
we never could get them to their hearts : they gave us the hear
ing, but they made light of all that we could say to them. O ! sad

MAKING LIGHT OR CHRIST. 585
will it prove on your side, if you force us to such an answer as
this. But if the Lord do move the hearts of any of you, and you re
solve to make light of Christ no more : or if any of you say, ' We
do not make light of him ;' let me tell you here in the conclusion
what you must do, or else you shall be judged as slighters of
Christ and salvation.
And first I will tell you what will not serve the turn.
1. You may have a notional knowledge of Christ, and the ne
cessity of his blood, and of the excellency of salvation, and yet
perish as neglecters of him. This is too common among professed
Christians. You may say all that other men do of him. What
Gospel passages had Balaam ! Jesus I know, and Paul I know,
the very devils could say, who believe and tremble. (James ii.)
2. You may weep at the history of his passion, when you read
how he was used by the Jews, and yet make light of him, and
perish for so doing.
3. You may come desirously to his word and ordinances. Herod
heard gladly ; so do many that yet must perish as n jglecters of sal
vation. 4. You may in a fit of fear having strong desires after a Christ,
to ease you, and to save you from God's wrath, as Saul had of
David to play before him ; and yet you may perish for making light
of Christ.
5. You may obey him in many things so far as will not ruin you
in the world, and escape much of the pollutions of the world by
his knowledge, and yet neglect him.
6. You may suffer and lose much for him, so far as leavethyou
an earthly felicity : as Ananias, the young man. Some parcels of
their pleasures and profits many will part with in hope of salvation,
that shall perish everlastingly for valuing it no more.
7. You may be esteemed by others a man zealous for Christ,
and loved and admired upon that account, and yet be one that shall
perish for making light of him.
8. You may verily think yourselves, that you set more by Christ
and salvation than any thing, and yet be mistaken, and be judged as
contemners of him : Christ justifieth not all that justify themselves.
Vol. I. 74

586 MAKINO LIGHT OF. CHRIST.
9. You may be zealous preachers of Christ and salvation, and
reprove others for this neglect, and lament the sin of the world in
the like expression as I have done this day; and yet if you or I
have no better evidence to prove our hearty esteem of Christ and
salvation, we are undone for all this.
You hear, brethren, what will not serve the turn ; will you now
hear what persons, you must be if you would not be condemned as
slighters of Christ ? O search whether it be thus with your souls,
or no.
1. Your esteem of Christ and salvation must be greater than your
esteem of all the honors, profits, or pleasures of this world, or else
you slight him : no less will be accounted sincere, nor accepted to
your salvation : Think not this hard, when there is no comparison
in the matters esteemed. To esteem the greatest glory on earth
before Christ and everlasting glory, is a greater folly and wrong to
Christ, than to esteem a dog before your prince, would be folly in
you, and a wrong to him. Scripture is plain in this ; " He that
loveth father or mother, wife, children, house, land, or his own life,
more than me, is not worthy of me, and cannot be my disciple.
(Matt. x. 37 ; Luke xiv. 26.)
2. You must manifest this esteem of Christ and salvation in your
daily endeavors and seeking after him, and in parting with any
thing that he shall require of you. God is a Spirit, and will not
take a hypocritical profession instead of the heart and spiritual ser
vice which he commandeth. He will have the heart or nothing;
and the chief room in the heart too : These must be had.
If you say that you do not make light of Christ, or will not here
after ; let me try you in these few particulars, whether indeed you
mean as you say, and do not dissemble.
1. Will you for the time to come make Christ and salvation the
chiefest matter of your care and study? Thrust them not out of
your thoughts as a needless or unprofitable subject ; nor allow it
only some running, slight thoughts,, which will not affect you. But
will you make it your business once a day to bethink you soberly,
when you are alone, what Christ hath done for you, and what he
will do, if you do not make light of it ; and what it is to be ever
lastingly happy or miserable ; and what all things in this world are

MAKING LIGHT -OF CHRIST. 587
I
in comparison of your salvation ; and how they will shortly leave
you ; and what mind you will be then of, and how you will esteem
them ? Will you promise me now and then to make it your busi-
businessto withdraw yourselves from the world, and set yourselves
to such considerations as these ? If you will not, are not you
slighters of Christ and salvation, that will not be persuaded sober
ly to think on them ? This is my first question to put you to the
trial, whether you will value Christ, or not.
2. Will you for the time to come set more by the word of God,
which contains the discovery of these excellent things, and is your
charter for salvation, and your guide thereunto ? You cannot set
by Christ, but you must set by his word : therefore the despisers
of it are threatened with destruction. (Prov. xiii. 13.) Will you
therefore attend to the public preaching of this word ? Will you
read it daily ? Will you resolve to obey it whatever it may cost you ?
If you will not do this, but make light of the word of God, you
shall be judged as such as make light of Christ and salvation, what
ever you maj' fondly promise to yourselves.
3. Will you for the time to come, esteem more of the officers of
Christ, whom he hath purposely appointed to guide you to salva
tion ; and will you make use of them for that end ? Alas, it is
not to give the minister a good word, and speak well of him, and
pay him his tithes duly, that will serve the turn : it is for the ne
cessity of your souls that God hath set them in his church; that
they may be as physicians under Christ, or his apothecaries to ap
ply his remedies to your spiritual diseases, not only in public, but
also in private : that you may have some to go to for the resolving
of your doubts, and for your instruction where you are ignorant,
and for the help of their exhortations and prayers. Will you use
hereafter to go to your ministers privately, and solicit them for ad
vice ? And if you have not such of your own as are fit, get advice
from others ; and ask them, What you shall do to be saved ? How
to prepare for death and judgment ? And will you obey the word
of God in their mouths : If you will not do this much, nor so much
as inquire of those that should teach you, nor use the means which
Christ hath established in his church for your help, your own con
sciences shall one day witness that you were such as made light of

588 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
Christ and salvation. If any of you doubt whether it be your duty
thus to ask counsel of your teachers, as sick men do of their physi
cians, let your own necessities resolve you, let God's express word
resolve you ; see what is said of the priests of the Lord, even be
fore Christ's coming, when much of their work did lie in ceremo
nials ! " My covenant was with him of life and peace : and I gave
them to him (to Levi) for the fear wherewith he feared me, and
was afraid before my name. The law of truth was in his mouth,
and iniquity was not found in. his lips ; he walked with me in peace
and equity, and did turn many away from iniquity. For the priets'
lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his
mouth: for he is the messenger ofthe Lord of Hosts." (Mai. ii.5, 6.)
Nay, you must not only inquire, and submit to their advice, but
also to their just reprehensions, and church censures : and without
proud repining submit to the discipline of Christ in their hands, if it
shall be used in the congregations whereof you are members.
4. Will you for the time to come, make conscience of daily and
earnest prayer to God, that you may have a part in Christ and sal
vation ? Do not go out of doors till you have breathed out these
desires to God ; do not lie down to rest till you have breathed out
these desires ; say not, God knoweth my necessity without so often
praying; for though he do, yet he will have you to know them,
and feel them, and exercise your desires and all the graces of his
Spirit in these duties : it is he that hath commanded to pray con
tinually, though he know your needs without. (1 Thess. v. 17.)
Christ himself spent whole nights in prayer, and encourageth us to
this course. (Luke xviii. 1.) If you will not be persuaded to this
much, how can you say that you make not light of Christ and sal
vation ?
5. Willyou for the time to come resolvedly cast away your known
sins at the command of Christ ? If you have been proud, or con
tentious, or malicious, and revengeful, be so no more. If you
have been adulterers, or swearers, or cursers, be so no more. You
cannot hold these, and yet set by Christ and salvation.
What say you? Are you resolved to let them go? If not,
when you know it is the will of Christ, and he hath told you such
shall not enter into his kingdom, do not you make light of him ?

MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST. 589
6. Will you for the time to come serve God in the dearest as well
as in the cheapest part of his service ? Not only with your tongues,
but with your purses and your deeds ? Shall the poor find that
you set more by Christ than this world ? Shall it appear in any-
good uses that God calls you to be liberal in, according to your
abilities ? Pure religion, and undefiled before God, is this, To
visit the fatherless and the widows, in their affliction. (James i. ult.)
Will you resolve to stick to Christ, and make sure this work of
salvation, though it cost you all that you have in the world ? If
you think these terms too dear, you make light of Christ, and will
be judged accordingly.
7. Will you for the time to came make much of all things that
tend to your salvation ; and take every help that God offereth you,
and gladly make use of all his ordinances ? Attend upon his
strengthening sacraments, spend tbe Lord's own day in these holy
employments ; instruct your children and servants in these things ;
(Deut. vi. 6. 7 ; get into good company that set their faces heaven
ward, and will teach you the way, and help you thither : and take
heed of the company of wicked scorners, or foolish, voluptuous
fleshly men, or any that would hinder you in this work. Will you
do these things ? Or will you shew that you are slighters of
Christ by neglecting them ?
8. Will you do all this with delight ; not as your toil, but as
your pleasure ; and take it for your highest honor that you may
be Christ's disciples, and may be admitted to serve and worship
him ; and rejoice with holy confidence in the sufficiency of that
sacrifice by which you may have pardon of all your failings, and
right to the inheritance ofthe saints in light ? If you will do these
things sincerely, you will shew that you set by Christ and salva
tion ; else not.
Dearly beloved in the Lord, I have now done that work which
I came upon ; what effect it hath, or will have upon your hearts, I
know not, nor is it any further in my power to accomplish that
which my soul desireth for you. Were it the Lord's will that I
might have my wish herein, the words that you have this day heard
should so stick by you, that the secure should be awakened by
them, and none of you should perish by the slighting of your sal-

690 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST.
vation. I cannot now follow you to your several habitations to ap
ply this word to your particular necessities : but O that T could
make every man's conscience a preacher to himself, that it might
do it, which is ever with you : that the next time you go prayerless
to bed, or about your business, conscience might cry out, 'Dost
thou set no more by Christ and thy salvation ?' That the next
time you are tempted to think hardly of a holy and diligent life, (I
will not say to deride it as more ado than needs,) conscience might
cry out to thee, ' Dost thou set so light by Christ and thy salva
tion ?' That the. next time you are ready to rush upon known sin,
and to please your fleshly desires against the command of God,
conscience might cry out, ' Is Christ and salvation no more worth,
than to cast them away, or venture them for thy lusts ?' That
when you are following the world with your most eager desires,
forgetting the world to come, and the change that is a little before
you, conscience might cry out to you, ' Is Christ and salvation no
more worth than so ?' That when you are next spending the Lord's-
day in idleness or vain sports, conscience might tell you what you
are doing. In a word, that in all your neglects of duty, your stick
ing at the supposed labor or cost of a godly life ; yea, in all your
cold and lazy prayers and performances, conscience might tell you
how unsuitable such endeavors are to the reward ; and that Christ
and salvation should not be so slighted. I will say no more but this
at this time, It is a thousand pities that when God hath provided a
Savior for the world, and when Christ hath suffered so much for
their sins, and made so full a satisfaction to justice, and purchased
so glorious a kingdom for his saints, and all this is offered so freely
to sinners, to lost unworthy sinners, even for nothing, that yet so
many millions should everlastingly perish because they made light
of their Savior and salvation, and prefer the vain world and their
lusts before them. I have delivered my message, the Lord open
your hearts to receive it ; I have persuaded you with the word of
truth and soberness, the Lord persuade you more effectually, or
else all this is lost.

SOME IMITABL.E PASSAGES
OF THE
Life of Elizabeth, late wife of Mr. Joseph Baker.
[An Appendix to the Sermon preached at her funeral.]

Though I spoke so little as was next to nothing of our dear de
ceased friend, it was not because I wanted matter, or thought it
unmeet ; but I use it but seldom, lest I raise expectations of the
like, where I cannot conscionably perform it. But he that hath
promised to honor those that serve and honor him, (John xii.
26 ; 1 Sam. ii. 30,) and will come at last " to be glorified in his
saints, and to be admired in all them that believe," (2 Thess. i. 10,)
I know will take it as a great and acceptable act of service, to pro
claim the honor of his grace, and to give his servants their due on
earth, whose souls are glorified with Christ in heaven, though ser
pentine enmity will repine, and play the envious accuser.
It is not the history of the life of this precious servant of the Lord
which I intend to give you, (for I was not many years acquainted
with her,) but only some passages, which, either upon my certain
knowledge, or her own diurnal of her course, or the most credible
testimony of her most intimate, judicious, godly friends, I may boldly
publish as true and imitable in this untoward, distempered genera
tion. She was born November, 1634, in Southwark, near London,
the only child of Mr. John Godeschalk, alias Godscall. Her father
dying in her childhood, she was left an orphan to the Chamber of
London. Her mother after married Mr. Isaac Barton, with whom
she had the benefit of religious education : but betwixt sixteen and
seventeen years of age, by the serious reading of the book called
" The Saints' Everlasting Rest," she was more thoroughly awa
kened, and brought to set her heart on God, and to seek salvation

592 PASSAGES OF THE
with her chiefest care. From that time forward she was a more
constant, diligent, serious hearer ofthe ablest ministers in London,
rising early, and going far to hear them on the week days ; wait
ing on God for his confirming grace in the use of those ordinances,
which empty, unexperienced hypocrites are easily tempted to des
pise. The sermons, which she constantly wrote, she diligently
repeated at home, for the benefit of others ; and every week read
over some of those that she had heard long before, that the fruit of
them might be retained and renewed ; it being not novelty that she
minded. In the year 1654, being near one-and-twenty years of age, after
seeking God and waiting for his resolving, satisfying directions, she
consented to be joined in marriage to Mr. Joseph Baker, by the
approbation of her nearest friends, God having taken away her
mother the year before. With him she approved herself, indeed,
such a wife as Paul (no papist) describeth as meet for a bishop or
pastor of the church ; " Even so must their wives be grave, not
slanderers, sober, faithful in all things." (1 Tim. iii. 11.) Some
instances I shall give for the imitation of others.
I. She was very exemplary in self-denial and humility : and hav
ing said thus much, what abundance have I comprehended ! Oh,
what a beauty doth self-denial and humility put on souls ! Nay,
what a treasure of everlasting consequence doth these two words
express ! I shall give you a few of the discoveries.
1 . It appeared in her accompanying in London with the holiest,
how mean soever, avoiding them that were proud, and vain, and
carnal. She desired most to be acquainted with those that she
perceived were best acquainted with God, neglecting the pomp
and vain-glory ofthe world.
2. When she was called to a married state, though her portion,
and other advantages, invited persons of greater estates in the
world, she chose rather to marry a minister of known integrity,
that might be a near and constant guide, stay, and comfort to her
in the matters which she valued more than riches. And she missed
not of her expectations for the few years that she lived with him.
Even in this age, when the serpent is hissing in every corner at
faithful ministers, and they are contemned both by profane and

LIFE OF MRS. BAKF.K. 59.J
heretical malignants, she preferred a mean life with such a one, for
her spiritual safety, and solace, before the grandeur ofthe world.
3. When some inhabitants of the city of Worcester were earnest
with me to help them to an able minister, Mr. Baker, then living
in Kent, had about a hundred pounds per annum : and when, at
my motion, he was readily willing to take a great charge in Wor
cester, upon a promise from two men to make the maintenance fif
ty pounds a year, by a voluntary contribution, of the continuance
of which he had no security, his wife was the promoter, and no
discourager, of his self-denial, and never tempted him to look af
ter greater things. And afterward, when 1 was afraid lest the
smallness and uncertainty of the means, together with his discour
agements from some of his people, might have occasioned his re
move, and have heard of richer places mentioned to him, as he
still answered that he had enough, and minded not removing with
out necessity, so was she ever ofthe same mind, and still second
ed and confirmed him in such resolutions, even to follow God's
work while they had a competency of their own, and to mind no
more. 4. Her very speech and behavior did so manifest meekness and
humility, that, in a little converse with her, it might easily be dis
cerned. 5. She thought nothing too mean for her that belonged to her in
her family and relation, no employment, food, Sic, saying often,
that ' What God had made her duty was not too low a work for her.'
And, indeed, when we know once that it is a work that God sets
us upon, it signifieth much forgetfulness of him and ourselves, if we
think it too base, or think ourselves too good to stoop to it.
6. No neighbor did seem too mean or poor for her familiar con
verse, if they were but willing.
7. She had a true esteem and cheerful love for the meanest of
her husband's relations, and much rejoiced in her comfort in his
kindred, recording it among her experienced mercies.
II. She was very constant and diligent in doing her part of family
duties ; teaching all the inferiors of her family, and laboring to
season them with principles of holiness, and admonishing them of
their sin and danger: never failing, on the Lord's day at night, to
Vol. I. 75

594 PASSAGES OF THE
hear them read the Scriptures and recite their catechisms, when
public duty, and all other family duty, was ended, and, in her
husband's absence, praying with them. How much the imitation
of such examples would conduce to the sanctifying of families is
easy to be apprehended.
III. In secret duty she was very constant, and lived much in
those two great soul-advancing works, 'meditation and prayer, in
which she would not admit of interruptions. This inward, holy-
diligence was it that maintained spiritual life within, which is the
spring of outward acceptable works. When communion with
God, and daily labor upon our own hearts, is laid aside, or negli
gently and remissly followed, grace languisheth first within, and
then unfruitfulness, if not disorders and scandals, appear without.
IV. Her love to tbe Lord Jesus was evidenced by her great af
fection to his ordinances, and ways, and servants. Avery hearty
love she manifested to those on whom the image of God did appear,
even the poorest and meanest, as well as the rich or eminent in
the world. Nor did a difference in lesser matters, or any tolera
ble mistakes, alienate her affections from them.
V. She was a Christian of much plainness, simplicity, and sin
gleness of heart ; far from a subtle, crafty, dissembling frame,
and also from- loquacity, or ostentation. And the world was very
low in her eyes, to which she was long crucified, and on which she
looked as a lifeless thing. Sensuality, and pampering the flesh,
she much loathed. When she was invited to feasts she would oft
complain that they occasioned a difficulty in maintaining a sense of
the presence of God, whose company in all her company she pre
ferred .
VI. She was a very careful esteemer and redeemer of her time.
At home in her family the works of her genera] and particular call
ing took her up. When necessary business, and greater duties,
gave way, she was seldom without a book in her hand, or some
edifying discourse in her mouth, if there were opportunity. And
abroad she was very weary of barren company, that spent the time
in common chat, and dry discourses.
VII. She used good company praetically and profitably, making
use of what she heard for her own spiritual advantage. When I

LIFE OF MRS. BAKER. 595
understood, out of her diary, that she wrote down some of my fa
miliar discourses, with serious application to herself, it struck ex
ceedingly deep to my heart, how much I have sinned all my days,
jince I undertook the person of a minister of Christ, by the slight-
less and unprofitableness of my discourse ; and how careful min
isters should be of their words, and how deliberately, wisely, and
seriously they should speak about the things of God, and how dili-
gendy they should take all fit opportunities to that end, when we
know not how silent hearers are affected with what we say. For
aught we know, there may be some that will write down what we
say in their books, or hearts, or both. And God and conscience
write down all.
VIII. In her course of reading she was still laying in for use and
practice. Her course was, when she read the Scriptures, to gather
out passages, and sort and refer them to their several uses, as some
that were fit subjects for her meditations, some for encourage
ment to prayer and other duties, promises suited to various con
ditions and wants ; as her papers show.
And for other books, she would meddle with none but the sound
and practical, and had no itch after the empty books, which make
ostentation of novelty, and which opinionists are now so taken with ;
nor did she like writing or preaching in envy and strife. And of
good books she chose to read but few, and those very often over,
that all might be well digested. Which is a course (for private
Christians) that tends to avoid luxuriancy, and make them sincere,
and solid, and established.
IX. She had the great blessing of a tender conscience. She
did not slightly pass over small sins without penitent observation.
Her diary records her trouble when causelessly she had neglected
any ordinance ; or was hindered by rain, or small occasions : or if
she had overslept herself, and lost a morning exercise in London,
or came too late ; or if she were distracted in secret duty. And
if she missed of a fast through misinformation and disappointments,
and found not her heart duly sensible of the loss ; that also she re
corded. So did she her stirrings of anger, and her very angry
looks, resolving to take more heed against them. Though all

596 PASSAGES OF THE
ought not to spend so much time in writing down their failings, yet
all should watch and renew repentance.
X. She was very solicitous for the souls of her friends. As, for
instance, her brothers-in-law, over whom she exercised a mother
ly care, instructing them, and watching over them, and telling them
of miscarriages, and counselling them : causing them to keep a
constant course of reading the holy Scriptures, and meditating on
it (as far as she could :) causing them to learn many chapters with
out book, and to read other good books in season ; earnestly pray
ing for them in particular ; much desiring One or both should be
ministers : and when her father-in-law appointed the eldest to go to
France, she was much troubled for fear of his miscarriage among
strangers, especially those of the Romish way.
XI. She was a serious mourner for the sins of the time and place
she lived in.
XII. In sum, for strict, close, watchful, holy walking with God,
even her husband professeth that she was a pattern to him. As I
hinted before, she kept a daily account in writing (which is now to
be seen, from the beginning of the year 1654,) especially of these
particulars :
1. Of the frame of her heart in every day's duty ; in meditation,
prayer, hearing, reading, &c., whether lively or dull, &c.
2. Of those sins which she had especially to repent of, and
watch against.
3. Of her resolutions and promises, and how she kept them.
4. Of all special providences to herself, husband, brothers, and
others, and the improvement of them. As at the death of her son,
who died with great sighs and groans, she recorded her sense of
the special necessity of holy armor, and great preparation, for that
encounter, when her turn should come to be so removed to the ev
erlasting habitation.
5. Of her returns of prayer, what answers, and grant of them
she found.
6. Of the state of her soul upon examination ; how she found it,
and what was the issue of her examination ; and in this it seems
she was very exact and punctual. In which, though many times
fears and doubtings did arise, yet hath she frequent records of the

LIFE OF MRS. BAKKR 597
discovery of evidences, and comfortable assurance of sincerity.
Sometimes when she hath heard sermons in London, that helped
her in her search, and sometimes when she had been reading
writings that tended that way, she recorded what evidences she
found, and in what degree the discovery was ; if imperfect, resolv
ing to take it up, and follow the search further. And if she had
much joy, she received it with jealousy, and expectation of some
humbling consequent. When any grace languished, she presently
turned to some apt remedy. As, for instance, it is one of her
notes, November, 1658, ' I found thoughts of eternity slight and
strange, and ordinary employments vory desirable; at which I
read Mr. B.'s Crucifixion, and was awakened to mortification and
humiliation,' &ic.
The last time that she had opportunity lor this work, was two
or three days before her delivery in childbearing, where she final
ly recorded the apprehensions she had, both of her bodily and
spiritual state, in these words, '- Drawing near the time of my de
livery, I am fallen into such weakness that my life is in hazard.
I find some fears of death, but not very great, hoping, through
grace, I die in the Lord.' I only mention these hints to show
the method she used in her daily accounts. To those Christians
that have full leisure, this course is good; but 1 urge it. not upon
all. Those that have so great duties to take up that time, that they
cannot spare so much to record their ordinary passages, such must
remember what others record, and daily renew repentance for their
daily failings, and record only the extraordinary, observable, and
more remarkable and memorable passages of their lives, lest they
lose time for works of greater moment. Bui this excellent work
of watchfulness must be performed by all.
And I think it was a considerable, expression of her true wisdom,
and care of her immortal soul, that when any extraordinary ne
cessity required it, and she found such doubts, as of herself she
was not able to deal with, she would go to some able, experienced
minister to open her case, and seek assistance, (as she did, more
than once, to my dear and ancient friend, Mr. Cross, who, in full
age, is since gone after her to Christ,) and, therefore, chose a

598 PASSAGES OF THE
minister in marriage, that he might be a ready assistant in such
cases of necessity, as well as a continual help.
At last came that death to summon her soul away to Christ, for
which she had so seriously been preparing, and which she oft call
ed a ' dark entry to her Father's palace.' After the death of her
children, when she seemed to be somewhat repaired, after her last
delivery, a violent convulsion suddenly surprised her, which, in a
few days, brought her to her end. Her understanding, by the fits,
being at last debilitated, she finding it somewhat hard to speak sen
sibly, excused it, and said, ' I shall, ere long speak another' lan
guage,' which were the last words which she spake with the tongue
of flesh, and laying speechless eighteen hours after, she departed,
Aug. 17, 1659. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord,
from henceforth ; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from
their labors; and their works do follow them." (Rev. xiv. 13.)
Our turn is coming. Shortly we shall also lay- by the flesh. This
is our day of preparation ; there is no preparing time but this. Did
men but know the difference between the death of the holy and the
unholy, which doth not appear to fleshly eyes, how speedily would
they turn ! how seriously would they meditate ! how fervently
would they pray ! how carefully would they live ! how constantly,
painfully, and resolvedly would they labor ! Did they well con
sider the difference between dying prepared and unprepared, and
of what difficulty, and yet everlasting consequence, it is to die
well ; oh ! then, what manner of persons would men be, in all
manner of holy conversation and godliness, and all their lives would
then be a continued preparation for death, as all their lives are
hastening towards it.
And now I shall only desire you, for the right understanding of
all that I have here said, and to prevent the cavils of blinded malice,
to observe these three or four particulars.
1. That though I knew so much of her as easily maketh me be
lieve the rest, upon so sure a testimony, and saw her diary, yet
the most of this history of her life is the collection and observation
of such faithful witnesses as had much better opportunity than I to
know the secrets of her soul and life.
2. That it is no wonder if many, that knew her, perceived not

LIFE OF MRS. BAKER. 599
all this by her that is here expressed ; for that knowledge of our
outward carriage at a distance will not tell our neighbors what wo
flo in our closets, where God hath commanded us to shut our door
upon us, that our Father which seeth in secret, may reward us
openly. And many of the most humble and sincere servants of the
Lord are so afraid of hypocrisy, and hate"ostentation, that their
justification and glory is only to be expected from the Searcher of
hearts, and a few of their more intimate acquaintance; though^this
was not the case before us, the example described being more con
spicuous. 3. That I over-passed the large expressions of her charity, which
you may hear from the poor, and her intimate acquaintance, as I
have done ; that I may not grate upon the modesty of her surviv
ing friends, who must participate in the commendations.
4. That it is the benefit of the living that is my principal end.
Scripture itself is written much in history, that we may have mat
ter of imitation before our eyes.
5. If any say that here is no mention of her faults, I answer,
Though I had acquaintance with her, I knew them not, nor ever
heard from any other so much as might enable me to accuse her, if
I were her enemy. Yet I doubt not but she was imperfect, and
had faults, though unknown to me. The example of holiness I
have briefly proposed. They that would see examples of iniquity,
may look abroad in the world, and find enough ; I need not be the
accuser of the saints to furnish them. And I think if they inquire
here of any thing notable, they will be hard put to it to find enough
to cover the accuser's shame.
6. It is the honor of Christ, and grace in his members, more than
the honor of his servants, that I seek.
7. And I wx>uld not speak that in commendation of the living
which I do of the dead, who are out "of the reach of all temptations
of being lifted up with pride thereby ; unless it be such whose re
putation the interest of Christ and the gospel commandeth me to
vindicate. 8. Lastly, I am so far from lifting up one above the rest of the
members of Christ by these commendations, and from abasing oth
ers, whose names I mention not, that I intend the honor of all in

600 PASSAGES OF THE LIFE OF, &.C.
one, and think that in the substance I describe all saints in describ
ing one. I am not about a popish work, of making a wonder of a
saint, as of a phoenix, or some rare, unusual thing. Saints with
them must be canonized, and their names put in the calendar'!; and
yet their blind malice tells the world that there are no such things
as saints among us. But I rejoice in the many that I have com
munion with, and the many that have lately stepped before me in
to heaven, and are safe there, out ofthe reach of malice, and of
sin, and all the enemies of their peace; and have left me mourn
ing, and yet rejoicing ; fearing, and yet hoping; and, with some
desires, looking after them here behind : and the faster Christ calls
away his chosen ones, whose graces were amiable in mine eyes,
the more willing he maketh me to follow them, and to leave this
world of darkness, confusion, wickedness, danger, vanity, and
vexation, and to meet these precious souls in life, where we shall
rejoice that we are past this howling wilderness, and shall for ever
be with the Lord.

from Baxter's poetical fragments.
" As for my friends, they are not lost :
The several vessels of thy fleet,
Though parted now by tempests tost,
Shall safely in the haven meet.
Still we are centered all in Thee ;
Members, tho' distant of one head,
In the same family we be,
By the same faith and Spirit led.
Before thy throne we daily meet,
As joint petitioners to Thee ;
In spirit we each other greet,
And shall again each other see.
The heavenly hosts, world without end,
Shall be my company above ;
And thou, my best, my surest Friend,
Who shall divide me from thy love ?"

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