'Y&LE«¥JMlIVEI&S2irY«> Gift of

Mrs George A.Smith

SELECT DISCOURSES:

BY JOHN SMITH,
LATE FELLOW OF QOEEN'S COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE.

TO WHICH IS ADDED
A SERMON,
PREACHED AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL,
BT
SYMON PATRICK, D.D.
THES FELLOW OF THE SAME COLLEGE, AFTERWARDS LORD BISHOP OF ELT :
CONTAINING
A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE AND DEATH.

THIRD EDITION, CAREFULLY CORRECTED.

'Am^miiii'gTi XaXs/ra/. — Heb. xi. 4.

LONDON:
PRINTED FOR RIVINGTONS AND COCHRAN,
IN THE STRAND.
MDCCCXXI.

ADVERTISEMENT

THIRD EDITION.

In offering to the Public a new Edition of the Writings
of John Smith, the Publishers think it necessary to state
that it is printed from the second edition of 1673, collated
with that of 1660, and that no alterations whatever have
been made, farther than correcting the typographical
errors with which they both abounded, and which were
too palpable to be passed over. The Hebrew, Greek,
and other quotations, have been examined with care, and,
as often as possible, verified.
Besides the two editions of the entire work, above-men
tioned, an Abridgment, by Lord Hailes, was published
in the year 1754, and another, by the Rev. John King,
M. A. of Queen's College, Cambridge, in the course of
the last year: " But," to use the words of a highly
respectable Divine,* in reference to this Work, " in
such abridgments the distinctive features of the original
author are too commonly lost." — " He that should republish
the Volume at large, would perform a great, and, it is
hoped, an acceptable service to the religious public."
This, and similar suggestions, from different quarters, to-
* The Rev. John Jebb, Rector of Abingdon in the Diocese of Cashel 
Vide Sermons, 8vo. page 91. a

b ADVERTISEMENT.
gether with the extreme scarcity and exorbitant price * of
both the former editions, have induced the Publishers to
bring forward the present one. It is hoped, that in the
improved form in which these Discourses are now pre
sented to the Public, they will meet with that notice and
regard, which, in the opinion of many persons, eminent
alike for their talents and their piety, they are well entitled
to receive. 148, Strand,
August 1st, 1821.
* The usual prices of the old 4to. editions have been for some years past
from eighteen to twenty-four shillings ; and a copy of the second edition
brought by public auction in the country a few months since thirty shillings !

MEMOIR OP THE AUTHOR,

LORD HAILES.

J ohn Smith, the author of the following Discourses, was
born in the year 1618, at Achurch, near Oundle, in North
amptonshire, where his father possessed a small farm.*
On the 5th of April, 1636, he was admitted a scholar of
Emanuel College in Cambridge.f It was his peculiar
felicity to have for tiRor Dr. Whichcote : | by that excellent
person he was directed in his studies, and bounteously
maintained. | j
In the year 1 640, he took the degree of Bachelor of Arts,
and in the year 1644, the degree of Master of Arts.
He never obtained a Fellowship in Emanuel College ;
for which the following reason may be assigned ; by the
statutes of that College, no more than one Fellow can be
admitted from any one county ; and William Dilling-
hame,J a native of Northamptonshire, had been admitted
* Bishop Kennet. — Register and Chronicle, p. 127. — Bishop Patrick's
Funeral Sermon.
f Ibid.
J At that time Fellow of Emanuel College, and afterwards Provost of
King's College.
|| Preface to Smith's Select Discourses, by John Worthington, D. D. p. vi.
§ Afterwards Doctor of Divinity, and Master of that College.

8 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.
a Fellow in the year 1642, at which time Mr. Smith was
not, by his standing in the University, capable of a Fellow
ship.* He was, however, on the 11th of June, 1644, appointed
Fellow of Queen's College in Cambridge, in the room of
one of the Fellows whom the Earl of Manchester ejected at
that time, by virtue of the Parliamentary ordinance-!
In this College he became eminently useful as' a Fellow
and a Tutor; after a tedious sickness, supported with
exemplary patience, he died on the 7th of August, 1652,
and was buried in the chapel of Queen's College. X
To that College he bequeathed a valuable collection of
books ; on which account he is recorded among its bene
factors, and his name, and the donation made by him, are
publicly recited at the end of every term. |]
He was a person of lively apprehension, solid judgment,
and unwearied diligence; by these qualifications he ac
quired, at an early age, a knowledge in tjhe sciences,
uncommonly extensive.
He was read in law and physic, well versed in history,
philosophy, and mathematics, and critically skilled in the
learned languages.. His abilities as a moralist and a divine,
may be discerned from his Select Discourses. . He may '
seem to have overrated the writings of the later Platonists,
and to have paid too great regard to their authority : but -
he had this fault in common with many of his cotempo-
* From the information of the accurate and ingenious Dr. Bircb, Secretary
to the Royal Society.
f In the place of one Appleby, as Walker conjectures  List of Loyal and
Episcopal Clergy, p. 157. folio, London, 1714.
f Bishop Patrick's Funeral Sermon.
|| From the information of Dr. Birch.

MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.

raries. The study of Plotinus, and of the other authors
of his sect, was then much cultivated at Cambridge.
They who knew him, represent him to have been of a j
character most amiable. He was a conscientious and dis- /
interested man : his notions of virtue were exalted, his j
benevolence universal: Christian kindness was the ruling 1
principle of his heart, and the constant and delightful sub
ject of his conversation : the zeal of the times in which he
lived was unhappily violent, his own temper was passionate;
yet he was ever faithful to the great law of love. The
perverse and obstinate wickedness of mankind excited in
him emotions of sorrow, not of anger.
He was communicative of his knowledge to others, and
on their account cheerfully permitted the interruption of
his own studies. ^,
He performed the duties belonging to his office of Tutor
with faithful application : he taught equally by precept and
example : he had an ease of expression rarely to be found
in studious and abstracted persons : he laboured to accom
plish his pupils in all human literature ; yet he employed
his . most anxious care in leading them in the ways of
heavenly. vgsdoE} ;\,for he was, as Bishop Patrick expresses
it, " alwlyjandfkithful guardian."
Yet did not his learning and superior usefulness swell
him with arrogance : his humility was the most conspicu
ous of all his virtues. He himself was wont to say, " That
learning, when put in opposition to moral accomplish
ments, was nothing more than an excellent kind of vanity."
As a preacher, he was careful of adapting his discourses
to the capacity of his audience : he was zealous for the
salvation of souls ; to this great end he purposed to have

10 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.
dedicated his future labours : but God was pleased to call
him early to the reward of obedience.
He was constant in meditation, and serious in prayer :
his faith in the great truths of religion was sincere, and
productive of good works : in a word, he was a plain-
hearted, intelligent, and practical Christian.
He composed not only the Select Discourses, but also
several Treatises, as well in Latin as in English. Some
part of them appear to have been once in the hands of
Dr. Worthington.* His mathematical lectures are men-
tioned with particular commendation ; the contents of the
other Treatises are not known.
His Select Discourses were by his executor, Dr. Samuel
Cradock, committed to the care of Dr. Worthington, +
who, with much industry and labour, prepared them for
the press. They were published at London in the year
166j^,; and again in the year 1673. The discourse of
Prophecy was translated into Latin by M. Le Clerc, and
prefixed to his Commentaries on the Prophets, printed at
Amsterdam in the year 1731. The discourse of the
Excellency and Nobleness of True Religion was also
separately pubhshed at Glasgow in the year 1 745.
* Preface, p. xxxi. (None of these have ever been printed.)
f Preface, p. i.

TO THE PRECEDING MEMOIR THE FOLLOWING
TESTIMONIES MAY BE SUBJOINED.

" His' Select Discourses, which were College Exercises, and contributed to
raise new thoughts and a sublimer style in tbe members of the University,
were published by his friend, Dr. Worthington, in April, 1660."
Dr. Birch, in his Life of Archbishop Tiltotson, pp. 6, 7'

" These are not Sermons, but Treatises; and are less known than they
deserve. They show an uncommon reach of understanding and penetration,
as well as an immense treasure of learning in their author.1'
Mr. Chalmers, in his Biographical Dictionary, Vol. XXVIII. p. 126.

" A mind which displays at once such vast intellectual powers, and such
exalted spiritual endowments, may well excite our admiration, and leave us
at a loss which most to wonder at, — that a man of thirty-five should have made
such gigantic strides in literature ; or that, having done so, he should at the
same time have made such rapid attainments in the Divine life."
Rev. \ToHy Kino, M. A. Preface to his Abridgment of the
Select Discourses, pp. xxix, xxx.

Our author is mentioned with great respect by Professor Dugald Stewart,
in giving some extracts from these Discourses in bis First Dissertation pre
fixed to the New Supplement to the Encyclopedia Britannica, pp. 88, 93, 106.

In the Quarterly Review, Vol. XVI. p. 527, these Discourses are
quoted, and their author is styled " a writer of great erudition and strength
of mind."

A Life of Mr. Smith is given in the Christian Observer, Vol. III.
p. 389, but it is entirely extracted from Bishop Patrick's Funeral Sermon,
which will be found at the end of tins Volume,

TO THE READER.

J. he intendment of this Preface is not to court the reader
into an high esteem either of these discourses or their
author, the discourses will best speak what they are, and
for the author, his own works will praise him ; but only
to give a clear and plain account of what concerns this
edition, and withal, to observe something concerning the
discourses themselves, and the author of them, not unne
cessary perhaps for the reader to be acquainted with.
The papers now published, I received from the author's
executor, Mr. Samuel Cradock, then Fellow of Em
manuel College, now Rector of North Cadbury in Somer
setshire, whose beneficence to the public in imparting
these treasures, I thought worthy to be here, in the first
place, gratefully remembered.
Having taken a more general view of these, and some
other papers, divers of which were loose and scattered,
not being written by the author in any book, my first care
was to collect such as were homogeneal and related to the
same discourse ; as also to observe where any new addi
tional matter was to be inserted; for the author, whose
mind was a rich and fruitful soil, a bountiful and ever-
bubbling fountain, sometimes would superadd upon fur
ther thoughts some other considerations to what he had
formerly delivered in public ; and this he would do some
times after he had gone off from that argument, and

TO THE READER.

though matter of a different nature had come between.
This employment I found at first sufficiently perplexed
and toilsome ; but, through more than once reading over
the manuscripts, I got through those difficulties, and de
spatched that first trouble. And I am well assured that
the severed parts, and also the additional considerations,
are brought to their due and proper places, where the
author himself would have disposed them, if he had tran
scribed his papers.
And now I found that I stood in need of more hands
and eyes than mine own, for the fair transcribing of the
papers, (otherwise impossible to be printed) as also for
the examining of the material quotations in this volume :
and in this labour I had the assistance of ¦some friends, to
whom the memory of the author was very precious. As
for some short allusions and expressions borrowed out of
ancient authors, serving rather for ornament than support
of the matter in hand, there seemed to be less need of
being solicitous about all of them : but for the other testi
monies, which are many and weighty, there were but few
(some possibly among such a number of quotations might
escape) that were not examined ; and I am sure that this
labour was not unnecessary and in vain, how wearisome
soever it was, especially where the authors, or the places
in the authors, were not mentioned.
And then, for the sake of such readers whose education
had not acquainted them with some of the languages,
wherein many of the testimonies were represented, beino-
otherwise men of good accomplishments, and capable to
receive the designed benefit of these papers, it seemed
expedient to render the Latin, but especially the Hebrew
and Greek quotations, into English; except in such places
where, the substance and main importance of the quota-
3

TO THE READER.

tions being insinuated in the neighbouring words, a trans
lation was less needful, for the author seldom translated
the Hebrew, and more seldom the Greek, but into Latin ;
as considering that he delivered these discourses in the
College-Chapel before an auditory not needing any such
condescensions as are requisite in the publishing of these
papers for the benefit of some readers.
To despatch this first part of the Preface, which con
cerns the preparations to this edition, I shall add only one
thing more ; that whereas the papers now published, espe
cially those that contained the six first discourses, were
written in the author's own copy, without any distinction
or sections, uno tenore et continud serie, as the Jews ob
serve of the ancient writing of the law, pioso r*jin r~ninn L"»
ins ' The whole law was but as one verse ;' it seemed ex
pedient for the reader's accommodation to distinguish them
into several discourses or treatises, the titlepage to each
discourse giving a general account of the matter contained
therein, and the discourses themselves into chapters and
sections, except the discourses were short, as two or three
of them are, which therefore have the contents set in the
beginning, and before the chapters, to give a particular
account of the chief matters therein contained ; that so the
reader might have a clearer and fuller view, as of the
strength and importance, so also of the contexture of . the
whole, and the coherence of the several parts of the re
spective discourses; which otherwise would not be so
easily discerned by every reader, especially where there
are some excursions and digressions in any of the treatises,
(things- not unusual in the writings or discourses of other
men, when the notion does strongly affect and possess
their minds, and their fancies are therefore more active
and vigorous,) and some such digressions the reader will

VI TO THE READER.
meet with here more than once ; though even therein he
will see that the author did still respicere titulum, and kept
the main design always in his eye. Nor does the author
in these digressions lead the reader a httle out of the
way, only to see " a reed shaken with the wind,"* an ordi
nary trifle, some slight and inconsiderable object ; . but for
better purposes ; that he might the better present to the
perspicacious reader, something which is worthy his ob
servation : and therefore these wagixZarixol Xoyoi being usually
of such importance, need not be severely censured by rigid
methodists, if any such chance to read these treatises.
This is a plain account of some instances of the care
and labour preparatory to this edition ; of all which I ac
counted the author of these discourses to be most worthy :
for I considered him as a friend, one whom I knew for
many years, not only when he was Fellow of Queen's
College, but when a student in Emmanuel College, where
his early piety, and the remembering his Creator in those
days of his youth, as also his excellent improvements in
the choicest parts of learning, endeared him to many,
». particularly to his careful tutor, then Fellow of Emmanuel
College, afterwards Provost of King's College, Dr. Which -
- cote; to whom, for his directions and encouragements of
him in his studies, his seasonable provision for his support
and maintenance when he was a young scholar, as also
upon other obliging considerations, our author did ever
express a great and singular regard.
Rut besides, I considered him (which was more) as a
true servant and friend of God : and to such a one, and
what relates to such, I thought that I owed no less care
and diligence. The former title, " a servant of God,"
- Matt. xi. 7.

TO THE READER. Vll
is very often in Scripture given to that incomparable
person Moses : incomparable for his philosophical ac
complishments and knowledge of nature,' as also for his
political wisdom, and great abilities in the conduct and
managing of affairs; and in speaking excellent sense,
strong and clear reason in any business and case that was
before him; for " he was mighty in words and in deeds ;"*
and of both these kinds of knowledge wherein Moses ex
celled, as also in the more recondite and mysterious know
ledge of the Egyptians, there are several instances and
proofs in the Pentateuch written by him : incomparable as
well for the loveliness of his disposition and temper, the in- .
ward ornament and beauty of a meek and humble spirit,f
as for the extraordinary amiableness of his outward per
son ; and incomparable for his unexampled self-denial in
the midst of the greatest allurements and most tempting
advantages of this world.J And from all these great ac
complishments and perfections in Moses, it appears how
excellently he was qualified and enabled to answer that
title, " the servant of God," more frequently given to him
in Scripture than unto any other.
The other title, " a friend of God," is given to Abra
ham, the father of the faithful, an eminent exemplar of
self-resignation and obedience even in trials of the greatest
difficulty :§ and it is given to him thrice in Scripture, || and
plainly implied in Gen. xviii. 17. " Shall I hide from
Abraham," &c. but expressed in the Jerusalem Targum
there, ]QrH and in Philo Jud.f rov fiXov /uou. Nor is less
insinuated concerning Moses, with whom God is said to

* Acts vii. 22. -f- Numb. xii. 3. J Heb. xi. 24, &c.
§ Rom. iv. Heb. xi. Jam. ii. 21 — 23.
2 Chron. xx. 7. Isa, xii. 8. James ii. Sj. f De Verbis, Resipuit Kue.

VIII TO THE READER.
have spoken, ,-fD "7N HE) " mouth to mouth,"* and 01D»D
D'tiQ ^N " face to face, as a man speaketh unto his
friend."f And how fitly and properly both these titles were verified
concerning our author, who was a faithful, hearty, and in
dustrious " servant of God," counting it his duty and
dignity, his meat and drink, to do the will of his Master in
heaven, and that Ix -tyr)$s and fiir suvoiug, from his very
soul, and with good will, (the characters of a good ser
vant):) and who was dearly affected towards God, and
treated by God as a friend ; may appear from that account
i of him represented in the sermon at his funeral. I might
easily fill much paper, if I should particularly recount
those many excellencies that shined forth in him : but I
would study to be short. I might truly say, that he was
not only Bixawg, but a.yaS>oc, both a righteous § and truly
honest man, and also a good man. He was a follower
and imitator of God in purity and holiness, in benignity,
goodness, and love ; a love enlarged as God's love is, whose
goodness overflows and spreads itself to all, and his tender
mercies are over all his works. He was a " lover of our
Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity," || a lover of his spirit and
of his life, a lover of his excellent laws and rules of holy
life, a serious practiser of his sermon in the mount, If the
best sermon that ever was preached, and yet hone more
generally neglected by those that call themselves Chris
tians ; though the observance of it be for the true interest
both of men's souls, and of Christian states and common
wealths ; and accordingly, as being the surest way to their
true settlement and establishment, it is compared to " the
* Numb. xii. 8. f Exod. xxxiii. 11. } Eph. vi. 6, 7.
5 Rom. v. 7. || Eph. vi. 21. ^ Matt. v. 6, 7.

TO THE READER.

building upon a rock."* To be short, he was a Christian
not only h oX/y^, but h irt>Xk$, more than a little, even
wholly and altogether such : j- a Christian h xguwrw, inward
ly:): and in good earnest : religious he was, but without any
vaingloriousness and ostentation ; not so much a talking or
a disputing, as a living, a doing, and an obeying Christian;
one inwardly acquainted with the simphcity and power of
godhness, but no admirer ofthe Pharisaic forms and sanc-f
timonious shows, though never so goodly and specious, \
which cannot and do not affect the adult and strong Chris
tians, though they may and do those that are unskilful and
weak. For in this weak and low state of the divided J
i
churches in Christendom, weak and slight things, espe
cially if they make a fair show in the flesh, as the apostle
speaks, are most esteemed ; whereas in the mean time " the
weightier matters of the law," the most concerning and
substantial parts of religion, are passed over and disregard
ed by them, as being grievous to them, and no way for
their turns, no way for their corrupt interests, fleshly ease,
and worldly advantages. But God's thoughts are not as
their thoughts : the " circumcision which is of the heart,
and in the spirit, is that whose praise is of God, though
not of men ;"§ and " that which is highly esteemed amongst
men, is abomination in the sight of God." ||
What I shall further observe concerning the author, is
only this,
That he was eminent as well in those perfections which
have most of divine worth and excellency in them, and
rendered him a truly godlike man ; as in those other per
fections and accomplishments of the mind, which rendered

* Matt. vii. 24.. \ Acts. xxvi. 29. JRom. ii. 29.
§ Rom. ii. 29. || Luke xvi. 15.

X TO THE READER.
him a very rational and learned man : and withal, in the
midst of all these great accomplishments, as eminent and
exemplary in unaffected'" humility and true lowliness of
mind. And herein he was hke to Moses, that servant and
friend of God, who was most " meek and lewly in heart,"*
as our Lord is also said to be, in this, as in all other re
spects, greater than Moses who was vir mitissimus, " above
all the men which were upon the face of the earth."f And
thus he excelled others as much in humility as he did in
knowledge, in that thing which, though in a lesser degree
in others, is apt to puff up and swell them with pride and
pelf-conceit. But Moses was humble, though he was a
person of brave parts, pgoraj|ttar; ywaTos, as Josephus speaks
of him, and having had the advantages of a most ingenuous
education, was admirably accomplished in the choicest
parts of knowledge, and " learned in all the wisdom of
the Egyptians ;"% whereby some of the ancients under
stood the mysterious hieroglyphical learning, natural
philosophy, music, physic, and mathematics. And for
this last, to omit the rest, how excellent this humble man,
the author, was therein, did appear to those that heard him
read a mathematic lecture in the schools for some years,
and may appear hereafter to the reader, if those lectures
can be recovered. To conclude, he was a plain hearted
friend and Christian, one in whose spirit and mouth there
was no guile ; a profitable companion ; nothing of vanity
and triflingness in him, as there was nothing of sourness
and stoicism. I can very well remember, when I have had
private converse with him, how pertinently and freely he
would speak to any matter proposed, how weighty, sub
stantial, and clearly expressive of his sense his private
* Matt. xi. 29. f Numb. xii. 3. $ Acts vii. 21, 22.

TO THE READER. Xl
discourses would be, and both for matter and language
much what of the same importance and value with such
exercises as he studied for, and performed in public.
I have intimated some things concerning the author;
much more might be added : but it needs not, there being,
as. I before insinuated, already drawn a fair and lively
character of him by a worthy friend of his, in the, sermon
preached at his funeral ; for the publishing whereof and
annexing it (as now it is) to these discourses, he was im
portuned by letters from several hands, and prevailed with :
wherein, if some part of the character should seem to have
in it any thing of hyperbolism and strangeness, it must
seem so to such only who either were unacquainted with
him and strangers to his worth, or else find it a hard thing
not to be envious, and a difficulty to be humble. But those
that had a more inward converse with him, knew him to
be one of those " of whom the world was not worthy,"*
one of the " excellent ones in the earth ;"f a person truly
exemplary in the temper and constitution of his spirit, and
in the well-ordered course of his hfe ; a life unius quasi
coloris, sine actionum dissensione, as I remember Seneca
doth express it somewhere in his epistles, 'all ofone colour,
every where like itself:' and eminent in those things that
are worthy of praise and imitation. And certainly a just
representation of those excellencies that shined in him, as
also a faithful celebration of the hke accomplishments in
others, is a doing honour to God who is wonderful in his
saints, if I may with some apply to this sense that in
Psal. lxviii. 35. @uufMt,orbg & 0ii( h rote, btflois aurou, and it may be
also of great use to others, .particularly for the awakening
and obliging them to an earnest endeavouring after those
* Heb. xi. 38. t Psalm xvi. 3.

Xll TO THE READER.

heights and eminent degrees in grace and virtue and every
worthy accomplishment, which by such examples they see
to be possible and attainable through the assistances which
the divine goodness is ready to afford those souls which
" press toward the mark, and reach forth to those things
that are before." The hves and examples of men emi
nently holy and useful in their generation, such as were
Twroi xaXm 'igyuv, are ever to be valued by us as great bless
ings and favours from heaven, and to be considered as
excellent helps to the advancement of religion in the world :
and therefore there being before us these shot's s^u^o/, as
St. Basil speaks in his first Epistle, and a little afterwards
in the same Epistle, aydX/Aara xivovptm xai t/jwrgaxra, such
' living pictures, moving and active statues,' fair ideas and
lively patterns of what is most praiseworthy, lovely, and
excellent ; it should be our serious care that we be not,
through an unworthy and lazy self-neglect, ingentium exem-
plorum parvi imitatores, to use Salvian's expression; it
should be our holy ambition to transcribe their virtues and
excellencies, xai rb ixehiiiv aya^hv oixelbv TCOiiTo^ai bia, /J,i/J,rj0ii,]g, to
make their noblest and best accomplishments our own by
a constant endeavour after the greatest resemblance of them,
and by being " followers of them, as they were also of
Christ," who is the fair and bright exemplar of all purity
and hohness, the highest and most absolute pattern of
whatsoever is lovely and excellent and makes most for the
accomplishing and perfecting of human nature.
Having observed some things concerning this edition
and the author of these discourses, I proceed now, which
was the last thing intended in this Preface, to observe
something concerning the several discourses and treatises
in this volume. And indeed, some of these observations
I ought not in justice to the author to pretermit : and

TO THE READER.

all of them may be for the benefit of, at least, some
readers. The first discourse ' Concerning the true Way or Me
thod of attaining to Divine Knowledge, and an increase
therein,' was intended by the author as a necessary intro
duction to the ensuing treatises; and therefore is the
shorter : yet it contains apu^Xarov vow iv bxiyy oyxui, to use
Plutarch's expression, excellent sense and solid matter,
well beaten and compacted and lying close together in a
little room, many very seasonable observations for this age,
wherein there is so much of fruitless notionality, so little
of the true Christian life and practice.
Shorter yet are the two next tracts ' of Superstition and
Atheism,' which were also intended by the author to
prepare the way for some of the following discourses upon
which the author purposed to enlarge his thoughts.
Yet as for that tract ' of Superstition,' some things that
are but briefly intimated by the author therein, may re
ceive a further explication from his other discourses, more
especially from the eighth, viz. ' Of the Shortness and
Vanity of a Pharisaical Righteousness, or An Account of
the false Grounds upon which men are apt vainly to con
ceit themselves to be religious.'* And indeed, what the
author writes concerning that more refined, that more
close and subtile superstition, by which he understands
the formal and specious sanctity and vain religion of
Pharisaical Christians, who yet would seem to be very
abhorrent from superstition, and are apt to call every
thing Babylonish and antichristian that is not of theif
way, I say what he writes concerning this in both these
or any other discourses, he would frequently speak of, and
* See page 375.

XIV TO THE READER.

that with authority and power. For being possessed of
the inward life and power of true hohness, he had a very
strong and clear sense of what he spake, and therefore a
great and just indignation, as against open and gross lrre-
ligion, so also against that vainglorious, slight, and empty
sanctity of the spiritual Pharisees, who would, as our
Saviour speaks of the old Pharisees,* make vOid and very
fairly disannul the commandments of God, the weightier
things of religion, the indispensable concernments of
Christianity ; while, instead of an inward hving righteous
ness and entire obedience, they would substitute some ex
ternal observances, and a mere outward, lifeless, and slight
righteousness, and in the room of the new creature made
after God, set up some creature of their own, made after
their own image, a self-framed righteousness : they being
strict in some things which have a show of wisdom and
sanctity, things less necessary and more doubtful, and
where the holy Scripture hath not placed the kingdom of
God, but in the mean time loose and careless in their plain
duty toward God and toward their neighbour, in things
holy and divine, unquestionably just and good ; yet to
make some compensation for their being deficient in things
strictly and necessarily required, and primarily pleasing
to God, and to excuse themselves, they would express a
more than ordinary diligence and zeal in some easy and
little things, as all the most specious observances of formal
Christians are, and not worthy to be named with those
great instances of " the power of godliness," such as hearty
and universal obedience, entire self-resignation, a being
crucified to the world, plucking out of the right eye, and
cutting off the right hand, mortification of the more dear

* Mark vii.

TO THE READER. XV
and beloved sins, and the closer tendencies and inclina
tions to sin and vanity, and the hke; '
This is a short character ofthe Pharisaical and conceited
righteousness ; and in our author's plain discovering the
thinness and slightness thereof, and free reproving of these
false religionists, it appears that the same nobleness of
mind and spirit was in him which was also in Christ Jesus,
who never expressed himself with so much vehemency and
smartness, as when he was to reprove the Pharisees in his
days,* those patterns of formal Christians in all ages.
For there is nothmg more grievous to the sincerely reli
gious soul than affectation and canting in religion, empty,
though specious shows of sanctity, great pretendings to
spirituality and higher degrees of grace, when to the free-
spirited and discerning Christian it clearly appears that
such boasters are but low and weak things, " unskilful"
and unexperienced " in the word" and way " of righteous
ness,"! an& manifestly short of being plain moral men;
and that they are sensual, having not the spirit, nor bring
ing forth those lovely and well-relished fruits of the Spirit,
mentioned Gal. v. 22, 23. but, on the contrary, the cor
rupt fruits of the flesh grow out of their hearts, and " the
works 6f the flesh" there mentioned are manifested in
them: so far are they from being " crucified" and not
alive " to the world, and the world to them, "J so far are
they from having " crucified the flesh with the affections
and lusts,"§ that they do ra, rSjs eagxbg and rd iirl rrjg yrig
pgbfth, mind and earnestly affect, savour and relish, the
things of the flesh, and of the earth ; || aspiring as much
after power and greatness, as self-seeking and self-pleas-
* Matt, xxiii. j- Heb. v. 13. f Gal. vi. 14.
§ Gal. v. 24. || Rom. viii. S— 13. Col. iii. 5— 9.

XVI TO THE READER.

ing, as great lovers of themselves, loving the world and
the things in the world, making haste to be rich, thirsting
still after more of this world, pursuing worldly advantages
and interests, with as much craft and policy, as much
solicitude and eagerness, with as unsatisfied desires, as
those do whom they call worldly and carnal. So of old
the Gnostics called all others but themselves carnal and
animal men ; they only were mivpanxol, others were ^vx'^h
and vXixol, as Irenaeus tells us:* whereas in truth none
were more sensual, more unspiritual, than they who by
their uuevangelical lives were the great spots and blemishes
ofthe Christian profession.
But to let these alone, and to return to the former,
with whom our author had to do in both these treatises,
and in the 2d, 3d, and 4th, chapters of his seventh treatise,
I shall add this word of faithful admonition ; " Be not de
ceived, God is not mocked :"f God will not be put off
with empty pretences and Pharisaical appearances, how
glorious and precious soever in the eyes of men. God
will not be flattered with goodly praises, nor satisfied with
words and notions, when the life and practice is a real
contradiction to them. God will not be satisfied with a
specious " form of godliness," when men under this form
are " lovers of themselves, covetous, proud, high-minded,
fierce, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God, "J and
are manifestly under the power of these and the like spiri
tual, if not also fleshly, wickednesses. For the power of
sin within can, it seems, easily agree and consist with the
form of. godliness without : but two such contrary powers
as the power of godliness and the power of sin, two such
contrary kingdoms as the kingdom of the spirit and the
* Lib. I. f Gal' vi- 7- I 2 Tim. iii. 2—4. .

TO THE READER. XVII
kingdom of the flesh, which is made up of many petty
and lesser principalities, of various lusts and pleasures,
warring sometimes amongst themselves, but always con- ',
federate in warring against the soul ;* these so contrary
powers and kingdoms cannot stand together, nor be esta
blished in one soul. Be wise now therefore, and be ye
instructed O ye sanctimonious Pharisees, ye blind leaders
of the blind, and know the things that belong unto your
peace : for the day of the Lord will come that shall burn
as an oven, when all those fine coverings, wherewith men
thought to hide their ungodlike dispositions, shall be torn
from them and cast into the fire; and in this day shall
even these " weak and beggarly elements,"f melt with a
fervent heat, and for hypocrites, all their paint shall then
drop off, and their deformity shall appear : in this day all
affected modes of religion shall be rendered despicable,
and all disguises and artificial dresses, whereby false
Christians thought to hide their crookednesses, shall be
plucked off, and all things shall appear as they are.
Verily, there is a God that judgeth in the earth : he will
judge of men by other measures and rules than they used
here, whereby they deceived themselves and others. God
is for reality and truth : " He desires truth in the inward
I _i.L..i. , - ¦ " — -,.  ^*-^^r.^r. ™,_
parts,'-'| his delight is in sincere and single minds. It
will then appear that " he that walks uprightly, walks
surely ;"§ and that " he that doth the will of God, abideth
for ever." ||
If what the author, out of great charity to the souls of
men, has observed concerning these things were seriously
considered and laid to heart, Christianity would then re-

* Titus iii. 3. f Gal. iv. 9. \ Psal. li. 6.
J Prov. x. 9. || 1 John ii. 17.

XVUI TO THE READER.
cover its reputation, and appeal- in its own primitive lustre
and native loveliness, such as shined forth in the lives of
those first and best Christians, who were Christians -in
good earnest, iv sgyy xai aXrfriiq, and were distinguished
from all other men in excelling and outshining them in
whatsoever things were " true, venerable, just, pure, love
ly, and of good report."* Then would the true power of
godliness manifest itself; which signifies infinitely more
than a power to dispute with heat and vehemency about
some opinions, or to discourse volubly about some matters
in religion, and in such forms of words as are taking with
the weak and unskilful: more than a power to pray with
out a form of words ; for these and the like may be, and
frequently are, done by the formal and unspiritual Chris
tian : more than a power to deny themselves in some
things that are easy to .part with, and do not much cross
their inclinations, their self-will, their corrupt designs and
interests, nor prejudice their dear and more beloved lusls
and pleasures, their profitable and advantageous sins :
and more than a power to observe some lesser and easier
commands, or to perform an outward obedience arising
out of slavish fear, void of inward life and love, and a
complacency in the law of God, of which temper our
author discourses at large. For concerning such cheap
and little strictnesses as these it may be inquired, " What
do you more than others ? Do not even Publicans and
Pharisees the same?"f rS vegiegbv vontri ; what excellent and
extraordinary thing do you ? what hard or difficult thing
do you perform, such as may deserve to be thought a
worthy instance and real manifestation of the power of
godliness ? except such things are to be accounted hard
* Phi), iv. 8. f Matt. v. 46, 47.

TO THE READER. XIX
or extraordinary, which are common to the real and to
the formal Christian, and are performable by unregenerate
and natural men, and are no peculiar characters of regen
eration. No, these . and the like performances by which
such religionists would set off themselves, are but poor
and inconsiderable things, if compared with the mighty
acts and noble achievements of the more excellent, though
less ostentatious, Christians, who, through faith in the
goodness and power of God, have been " enabled to do. all
things through Christ, knowing both how to abound, and
how to be abased,"* &c. enabled to overcome the world
without them, and the love of the world within them ;
enabled to overcome themselves, and for a man " to rule
his own spirit" is a greater instance of power and valour
than " to take a city,"f as Solomon judgeth ; enabled to
resist the powers of darkness, and to quit themselves like
men and good soldiers of Jesus Christ, giving many signal
overthrows to those lusts that war against their souls, and
to the mightiest and strongest of them,- the sons of Anak :
and by engaging in the hardest services of this spiritual
warfare, wherein the Pharisaical boasters dare not follow
them, they show that there is a spirit of power in them,
and that they can do more than others. These are some
of the exploits of strong and healthful Christians ; and for
the encouraging of them in these conflicts, which shall end
in glorious conquests and joyous triumphs, the author
hath in the tenth and last discourse suggested what is wor
thy our consideration.
But I must not forget that there remains something to
be observed concerning some other treatises : and having
been so large in the last observation, which was not unne-
* Phil. iv. 12, 13. t Prov- xvil 32>

XX TO THE READER.
cessary, the world abounding, and ever having abounded,
with spiritual Pharisees, I shall be shorter in the rest.
And now to proceed to the next, which is ' of Atheism :'
This discourse, being but preparatory to the ensuing
tracts, is short : yet I would remind the reader, that what
is more briefly^handled here, may be supplied and further
cleared out of the fifth discourse, viz. ' Of the Existence
and Nature of God,' of which, if the former part seem
more speculative, subtile, and metaphysical, yet the latter,
and greater part, containing several ' Deductions and In
ferences from the Consideration of the Divine Nature and
Attributes,' is less obscure, and more practical, as it clearly
directs us to the best, though not much observed, way of
glorifying God, and being made happy and blessed by a
participation and resemblance of him ; and as it plainly
directs a man to such apprehensions of God as are apt
and powerful to beget in him the noblest and dearest love
to God, the sweetest dehght, and the most peaceful con
fidence in him.
One thing more I would observe to the reader concern
ing the discourse of Atheism ; and the same I would de
sire to be observed also concerning the next, that large
treatise ' of the Immortality of the Soul,' especially of the
former part thereof; and it is shortly this, that the author
in these treatises pursues his discourse with a particular
reflection on the dogmas and notions of Epicurus and his
followers, especially that great admirer of him, Lucretius,
whose principles are here particularly examined and re^
futsd. These were the men whose 'opinions our author
had to combat with; he lived not to see Atheism so closely
and craftily insinuated, nor did he live to see Sadducism
and Epicurism so boldly owned and industriously propa
gated, as they have been of late by some, who being

TO THE READER. XXI
heartily desirous that there were no God, no providence,
no reward nor punishment after this life, take upon them
to deride the notion of spirit, or incorporeal substance,
the existence of separate souls, and the life to come ; and
by infusing into men's minds opinions contrary to these
fundamental principles of religion, they have done that
which manifestly tends to the overthrow of all religion,
the destruction of morality and virtuous living, the de
bauching of mankind, the consuming and eating out of
any good principle left in the conscience, which doth tes
tify for God and goodness, and against sin and wickedness,
and to the defacing and expunging of the law written in
men's hearts ;* and so the holy apostle judges of the Epi
curean notions and discourses, a taste of which he gives
in that passage, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow
we die,"f and then there is an end of all, no other life or
state, and he expresseth his judgment concerning the evil
and dangerousness of these doctrines and their teachers,
partly in a verse out of Menander, QSilgovoiv r^n xgriord bpiXiai
xaxal, " Evil communications corrupt good manners," and
in what he subjoins, ver. 34. besides many other passages
in this chapter in opposition to the doctrine ofthe Saddu
cees and Epicureans : and to the same purpose he speaks
concerning those that denied the doctrine of the resurrec
tion or any future state, and the life to come.:): The sum
and substance of the apostle's judgment concerning these
Epicurean principles is plainly this, that these principles
properly and powerfully tend to the corrupting of men's
minds and lives, to the advancement of irreligion and im
morality in the world ; that they are no benign principles
* This was of old confessed, and boasted of by Lucretius more than once
in his poems. f 1 Cor. xv. 32. i 2 Tim. ii. 16, 17, 18.

XXII TO THE READER.
to piety and a good life. It is true, that some of the more
wary and considerate modern Epicureans may express
some care to live inoffensively, and to keep out of danger,
and to maintain a reputation in the world as to their con
verse with others, (and herein they mind their worldly
interests and the advantages of this present life, the only
life which they have in their eye ;) they may also express
a care in avoiding what is prejudicial to health and a long
life in this world : but all this is short of a true and noble
love of goodness; and if in these men there be any appear
ance of what is good and praiseworthy, they would have
been really better, if they had been of other principles,
and had believed in their hearts that there is a providence,
a future state, and life to come, and had lived agreeably
to the truths of the Christian, philosophy, which do more
ennoble, and accomplish, and every way better a man, than
the principles of the Epicurean sect. But to return, we
have before observed that our author in these two treatises
pursued his design in opposition to the master-notions and
chief principles of Epicurus and Lucretius of old : I shall
only add this, that if any of this sect in our days has done
more than revived and repeated those principles, if any
such has superadded any thing of any seeming force and
moment to the pretensions of the old Epicureans men
tioned in these tracts, the reader may find it particularly
spoken to, and fully answered, by one whom our author
highly esteemed, Mr. Henry More, in his late treatise of
the Immortah^pfjhe^Soul, and in another discourse en
titled, An Antidote against^Atheism, and in the appendix
i thereunto annexed.
I pass on to the discourse ' of Prophecy,' which, as it
cost the author more pains, I believe, than any of the
other, it containing many considerable inquiries in an ar-

TO THE READER. XX1U

gument not commonly treated of, and more than vulgar
observations out of ancient Jewish writers, so did it, to
gether with the former part of the next discourse, require
more labour to prepare it for the press and the benefit of
the reader, than any of the other tracts, by reason of the
many quotations, especially the Hebrew ones, to be ex
amined : in the perusing of which there would sometimes
occur a dubious and dark expression, and then I thought
it safest to confer with our Hebrew Professor, Dr. Cud- |
worth, for whom the author had always a great affection |
and respect.
It is true, this elaborate treatise is of a more speculative
nature than any of the rest, yet is it also useful, and con
tains sundry observations not only of light and knowledge,
but also of use and practice. For, besides that in this
treatise, several passages of Scripture are illustrated out of
Jewish monuments, which is no small instance of its use
fulness ; there are two chapters, to name no more, viz. the
4th, and 8th, the longest in this treatise, which more par
ticularly relate to practice, and might be, if well consid
ered, available to the bettering of some men's manners.
The matter of the fourth chapter, treating of ' the Differ
ence between the true Prophetical Spirit and Enthusias-
tical Impostures,' is seasonably useful, and of no small
importance. Not to mention any later experiments and
proofs how powerful such enthusiastical impostures have
been to disquiet and endanger several parts of Christendom,
it appears by good history, and the event is yet apparent,
how strangely that poHtieal enthusiast, Mahomet, has be
fooled a very great part of the world by his pretensions of
being inspired and taught by the divine Spirit whispering in
his ear, by his epileptical fits, pretended visions and revela
tions. Thus Mahomet's dove hath as wonderfully prevailed

XXIV TO THE READER.
in the world, as of old the Roman eagles : although yet,
which may abate our wondering at this success, this im-
posturous and pretendedly-inspired doctrine was not pro
pagated and promoted with a dove-like spirit, but with
force of arms 5 Mahometanism cut out its way by the
sword, the worst instrument for propagating religion ; to
say nothing of the advantages it had from its compliance
with flesh and blood, and a sensual life, and from the igno
rance, rudeness, and barbarism of that people to whom
that impure prophet communicated his Alcoran, a people
capable of any doctrine, how absurd and irrational soever.
Whereas Christianity was at first promoted, and made its
way in the world, by methods more innocent and worthy
of the doctrine of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus
Christ, that true and great Prophet, of whom the voice
from heaven was, " Hear ye him:"* after whose revelation
of the counsel and will of God to man, there is not to be
expected any new, and by him unrevealed doctrine, as
pertaining to life and godliness, and necessaryto salvation.
Neither is the eighth chapter, treating of ' the Disposi
tions preparatory to Prophecy,' without its usefulness;
there being an easy appliableness of what is contained
therein to such as are pretenders to prophesying, accord
ing to the more general importance of that word ; and it
may be both a just reproof and a sober advice to those
who, being full of themselves, swelled with self-conceit,
and puffed up with an opinion of their own knowledge
and abilities, which yet is but irn ivn, a windy and vain
knowledge,-)- a knowledge falsely so called,^ and being
wise and righteous in their own eyes, take upon them to
* Matt. xvii. 5. See also Acts iii. 22. Deut. xviii. IS.
t Job xv. 2. j 1 Tim. vi. 4.

TO THE READER. XXV
be most talkative and dogmatical, pert and magisterial,
" Desiring to be teachers, although they understand nei
ther what they say, nor whereof they affirm ;"* and there
fore modesty and sparingness of speech, and swiftness to
hear, would better become such than empty confidence
and talkativeness, and a pouring out words without know
ledge, Xi^suv i&v Koruftbg, vou de eraXayjjJtg' for indeed this is
the true account of these men and their performances, the
weakness and insignificancy of which, notwithstanding the
strong voice and loud noise of the speakers, are easily
discerned by those who in understanding are men, and
have put away childish things.f
What I would further intimate concerning this treatise
of Prophecy, is briefly this, that though it be one of the
largest treatises in this volume, yet there are some parts
and passages in it which I think the author would have
more enlarged and filled up, had he not hastened to that
which, according to the method designed by him, he calls
The Third Great Principle of Rehgion. But of this I
have given an account in an Advertisement at the end of
this treatise, % as also of the adjoining next to it.
The discourse ' Of the Legal and the Evangelical Right
eousness,' &c. which discourse is as much practical as the
former was speculative. Nor was the composure of that
treatise more painful to the author, than the elaborating of
this, at least the former half of this, wherein the author
has traversed  loca nullius ante trita solo  the more
unknown records and monuments of Jewish authors, for
the better stating the Jewish notion of ' the Righteous
ness of the Law ;' the clearing of which, in chap. 2. and
3. as also the settling the difference between ' That
* 1 Tim. i. 7. f I Cor. xiii. 11. { See page 302.

XXVI TO THE READER.
Righteousness which is of the Law, and that which is of
Faith, between the Old and the New Covenant,' and the
' Account of the Nature of Justification and Divine Ac
ceptance,' &c. are all of them of no small use and conse
quence, but, together with the Appendix to this tract, made
up of certain brief but comprehensive observations, they
offer to the reader what is not unworthy of his serious con
sideration. Ofthe eighth discourse, showing ' the Vanity of a Phari
saical Righteousness,' or godhness falsely so called, I have
spoken before.
The next discourse, largely treating of the ' Excellency
and Nobleness of True Religion and Holiness,' shows the
author's mind to have been not slightly tinctured and
washed over with religion, but rather to have been double-
dyed, thoroughly imbued, and coloured with that generosum
honestwm, as the Satyrist not unfitly styles it,  incoc-
tum generoso pectus honesto. But the author's life and
actions spake no less ; and indeed there is no language so
fully expressive of a man as the language of his deeds. '
Thpse that were thoroughly acquainted with him, knew
well, that as there was in him* 3*7 nm as it was said of
Solomon, a largeness and vastness of heart and under
standing, so there was also in him-)- PITH? TO"! ' a free,
ingenuous, noble spirit,' most abhorrent of what was sordid
and unworthy; and this irviZ;j.a qywovixbv, as the LXX
translate that Hebrew, is the genuine product pf religion
in that soul where it is suffered to rule, and, as St. James
speaks of patience, " to have her perfect work."J The style
in this tract may seem more raised and sublime than in the
* 1 K'lgs iv. 29. f Psal. li. 12. J James i. 4.

TO THE READER. XXVII
other, which might be perhaps from the nature and quality
of the subject matter, apt to heighten expressions ; but
yet in this, as in the other tracts, it is free from the vanity
of affectation, which a mind truly ennobled by rehgion
cannot stoop to, as counting it a pedantic business, and a
certain argument of a poorness and weakness of spirit in
either the writer or speaker.
But if in this tract the style seem more magnificent, yet
in the tenth and last discourse, viz. ' Of a Christian's Con
flicts and Conquests,' it is most familiar. The matter of it
is very useful and practical : for as it more fully and clearly
acquaints a Christian with the more dangerous and unseen
methods of Satan's activity, concerning which the notions
and conceptions of many men are discovered here to be
very short and imperfect; so it also acquaints him with
such principles as are available to beget in him the greatest
courage, spirit, and resolution against the day of battle,
chasing away all lazy faintheartedness and despair of
victory. This for the matter. The style is, as I said,
most familiar. This discourse was dehvered in public at
Huntingdon, where one of Queen's College is every year,
on March 25th, to preach a sermon against witchcraft,
diabohcal contracts, &c. I shall only add this, that when
he preached in lesser country auditories, particularly at
Achurch, near Oundle in Northamptonshire, the place of
his nativity, as it was his care to preach upon arguments of
most practical concernment, so was it also his desire and
endeavour to accommodate his expressions to ordinary
vulgar capacities ; being studious to be understood, and
not to be ignorantly wondered at by amusing the people
either with high unnecessary speculations, or with hard
words and vain ostentations of scholastic learning, the low
d

XXVIII TO THE READER.
design of some, that by such arts would gain a poor respect
to themselves, for such, and no better, is all that stupid
respect which is not founded upon knowledge and judg
ment: he was studious, I say, there to speak untornen
oixodopfi* edification, and everym Xoyov what was significant
and easy to be understood,* as the apostle doth phrase it,
and to express his mind in a way suitable to the apprehen
sions of popular auditories. And as for the discourses
now published, they also were delivered (being College ex
ercises) in a way not less suitable to that auditory : and
therefore it may not be thought strange, if sometimes they
seem for matter and style more remote from vulgar capa
cities. Yet even in these discourses, what is most practical,
is more easily intelligible by every honest-hearted Chris
tian. And indeed, that the whole might be made more
familiar and easy, and more accommodate to the use of
any such, I thought it would be very expedient to cast the
discourses into chapters, and, before every chapter, to pro
pose to the reader's view the full scope, sense, and strength
ofthe principal matters contained therein: and I could
wilhngly have spared such a labour, the greater, when
busied about the notions and conceptions of another, and
not our own, if I had not conceived it to be greatly help
ful and beneficial to some readers : besides another advan
tage to them hereby, viz. That they may the more easily
find out and select any such particular matters in these
discourses, as they shall think most fit or desirable for their
perusal. Thus have I given the reader some account of what
seemed fit to be observed concerning these ten discourses,
which now present themselves to his free and candid judg-

* 1 Cor. xiv. 3, 9.
3

TO THE READER. XXIX
ment. And now, if in the reading of these tracts, enriched
with arguments of great variety, there should occur any
passage wherem either he or I may Wixuh it need not be a
matter of wonder ; for what book, besides that book of
books, the Bible, has not something in it that speaks the
author man ? It would not have displeased our author in
his lifetime to have been thought less than infallible. He
was not tplXavrog, he was no fond self-admirer, nor was he
desirous that others should have his person, his opinion
and judgment, in admiration : he was far from the humour
of magisterial dictating to others, not ambitious " to be
called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi,"* as were and are the old
and the modern Pharisees ; nor of the number of those
who are inwardly transported and tickled, when others ap
plaud their judgment, and receive their dictates with the
greatest veneration and respect; but very peevish and
sour, disturbed and out of order, when any shall express
themselves dissatisfied and otherwise minded, or go about
modestly to discover their mistakes. No, he was truly
qiiXaXrfirig, a lover of truth, and of peace and charity. He
loved an ingenuous and sober freedom of spirit, the gene
rous Berean-hke temper and practice, agreeable to the
apostle's prudent and faithful advice, of " proving, all
things, and holding fast that which is good."f But to re
turn, it is possible that some passages in these tracts which
seem dubious, may, upon a patient considering of them, if
the reader be unprejudiced, and one of a clear mind and
heart, gain his assent ; and what upon the first reading
seems obscure and less grateful, may, upon another view,
and further thoughts, clear up, and be thought worthy of
all acceptation. It is not with the fair representations and
• Matt, xxiii. 7. t 1 Thess. v. 21.

XXX TO THE READER.
pictures of the mind as with other pictures ; these of the
mind show best the nearer they are viewed, and the longer
the intellectual eye dwells upon them.
There is only one thing more which I ought not to for
get to remind the reader of, and it is shortly this, that he
would please to remember that the" tracts now published
are posthumous works : and then affording that charity,
candour, and fair respect, which is commonly allowed to
such works of worthy men, I doubt not but he will judge
them too good to have been buried in obscurity ; although
it is likely, if the author himself had revised them hi his
lifetime with an intent to present them to public view, they
would have received from his happy hand some further
polishing and enlargements. He could have easily obliged
the world with other discourses of as valuable import
ance, if he had hved, and been so minded. But it pleased
the only wise God, in whose hand our breath is, to call for
him home to the spirits of just men made perfect, after he
had lent him to this unworthy world for about five and
thirty years. A short life his was, if we measure it by so
many years ; but if we consider the great ends of life and
being in the world, which he fulfilled in his generation, his
great accomplishments qualifying him for eminent service,
and accompanied with as great a readiness to approve him- N
self a good and faithful servant to his gracious Lord and
Master in heaven, his life was not to be accounted short,
but long; and we may justly say of him what is said by
the author of the Book of Wisdom concerning Enoch,
that great exemplar of hohness, and the shortest lived
of the patriarchs before the flood, for he lived but three
hundred and sixty-five years, as many years as there
are days in one year, TiXuafttlg h lXiyii> faXqgojai xg°v°vs /JMxgovg,
" He being consummated in a short time, fulfilled a long

TO THE READER. XXXI
time."* For, as the same author doth well express it in
some preceding verses, " Honourable age is not that which
standeth in length of time, nor that which is measured by
number of years : but wisdom is the gray hair unto men,
and an unspotted life is old age."f
Thus much for the papers now published. There are
some other pieces of this author's, both English and Latin,
which may make another considerable volume, especially
if some papers of his, in other hands, can be retrieved.
For my particular, I shall wish and endeavour that not the
least fragment of his may be concealed, which his friends
shall think worthy of publishing : and I think all such
fragments being gathered up may fitly be brought together
under the title of Miscellanies. If others who have any
of his papers shall please to communicate them, I doubt
not but that there will be found in some of his friends a
readiness to publish them with all due care and faithfulness.
Ors if they shall think good to do it themselves, and publish
them apart, I would desire and hope that they would be
stow that labour and diligence about the preparing them
for public view and use, as may testify their respect both
to the reader's benefit, and the honour of the author's
memory. And now that this volume is finished through the good
guidance and assistance of God, the Father of lights and
the Father of mercies, whose rich goodness and grace in
enabling me both " to will and to do,"J and to continue
patiently in so doing, notwithstanding the many tedious
difficulties accompanying such kind of labour, I desire
humbly to acknowledge ; now that the severed papers are
brought together in this collection to their due and proper
* Wisd. iv. 13. f Ibid- iv> 8> 9- t Phi1, "' 13,

XXXU TO THE READER.
places, as it was said of the bones scattered in the valley,
that " they came together, bone to his bone,"* what re
mains but that the Lord of life, he who " giveth to all
things hfe and breath,-)- be with all earnestness and hu -
mihty implored, that he would please to put bream into
these, otherwise dry, bones, that they may live ; that be
sides this paper-life, which is all that man can give to
these writings, they may have a living form and vital
energy within us; that the practical truths contained in
these discourses may not be unto us a dead letter, but
spirit and life ? That " he who teacheth us to profit,":):
would prosper these papers for the attainment of all those
good ends to which they are designed; that it would please
the God of all grace to remove all darkness and prejudice
from the mind and heart of any reader, and whatsoever
would hinder the fair reception of truth ; that the reader
may have an inward, practical, .and feeling knowledge of
" the doctrine which is according to godliness,"^ and live
a life worthy of that knowledge ; is the prayer of
His Servant in Christ Jesus,
John Worthington.

Cambridge, »
December 22, 165Q.J

* Ezek. xxxvii. 7. f Acts xvii. 25. J Isa. xlviii. 17.
§ 1 Tim. vi. 3.

CONTENTS. DISCOURSE I. .
OF THE
TRUE WAY OR METHOD OF ATTAINING TO
DIVINE KNOWLEDGE.

SECT. I.
Page.
That divine things are to be understood rather by a spiritual sensation ~~
than a verbal description, or mere speculation. Sin and wickedness
prejudicial to true knowledge. That purity of heart and life, as also
an ingenuous freedom of judgment, are the best grounds and pre
parations for the entertainment of truth  3
SECT. II.
An objection against the method of knowing laid down in the former
section, answered. That men generally, notwithstanding their apos
tasy, are furnished with the radical principles of true knowledge.
(Men want not so much means of knowing what they ought to do, as
| wills to do what they know. Practical knowledge differs from all other
knowledge, and excels it  16
SECT. III.
Men may be considered in a fourfold capacity in order to the perception
of divine things. That the best and most excellent knowledge of divine
things belongs only to the true and sober Christian ; and that it is but
in its infancy while he is in this earthly body  20

XXXIV CONTENTS.
DISCOURSE II.
OF
SUPERSTITION. Page
The true notion of superstition well expressed by Asuri^ai^nvia,, i. e. ' an
over-timorous and dreadful apprehension of the Deity.' — A false opin
ion of the Deity the true cause and rise of superstition — Superstition
is most incident to such as converse not with the goodness of God, or
are conscious to themselves of their own unlikeness to him. — Right
apprehensions of God" beget in man a nobleness and freedom of soul.
— Superstition, though it looks upon God as an angry Deity, yet it
counts him easily pleased with flattering worship. — Apprehensions of
a Deity and guilt meeting together are apt to excite fear — Hypocrites,
to spare their sins, seek out ways to compound with God. — Servile
and superstitious fear is increased by ignorance of the certain causes
of terrible effects in nature, &c. as also by frightful apparitions of
ghosts and spectres.— A further consideration of superstition as a <
composition of fear and flattery— A fuller definition of superstition,
according to the sense of tbe ancients.— Superstition doth not always
appear in the same form, but passes from one form to another, and
sometimes shrouds itself under forms seemingly spiritual and more
refined  29

DISCOURSE III.
OP
ATHEISM.
That there is n near affinity between atheism and superstition  That
superstition doth not only prepare the way for atheism, but promotes
and strengthens it. — That Epicurism is but atheism under * mask. 
A confutation of Epicurus' master-notion, together with some other
pretences and dogmas of his sect. — The true knowledge of nature is
advantageous to religion. — That superstition is more tolerable than
atheism. — That atheism is both ignoble and uncomfortable.  What
low and unworthy notions the Epicureans had concerning man's hap
piness : and what trouble they were put to, how to define, and where
to place true happiness. — A true belief of a Deity supports the soul
with a present tranquillity and future hopes  Were it not for a Deity,
the world would be unhabitable  ,  45

CONTENTS.
DISCOURSE IV.
or THE
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
CHAP. I.
The first and main principles of religion, viz. I. That God is. 2. That
God is a rewarder of them that seek him : wherein is included the
great article of the immortality of the soul. These two principles ac
knowledged by religious and serious persons in all ages. 3. That God
communicates himself to mankind by Christ. The doctrine of the
immortality of the soul discoursed of in the first place, and why ?  63
CHAP. II.
Some considerations preparatory to the proof of the soul's immortality.... 67
CHAP. III.
The first argument for the immortality of the soul. That the soul of man
is not corporeal. The gross absurdities upon the supposition that the
soul is a complex of fluid atoms, or that it is made up by a fortuitous
concourse of atoms : which is Epicurus' notion concerning body. The
principles and dogmas of the Epicurian philosophy in opposition to the
immaterial and incorporeal nature of the soul, asserted by Lucretius ;
but discovered to be false and insufficient. That motion cannot arise
from body or matter. Nor can the power of sensation arise from
matter : much less can reason. That all human knowledge hath not
its rise from sense. The proper function of sense, and that it is never
deceived. An addition of three considerations for the enforcing of this
first argument, and further clearing the immateriality of the soul. That
there is in man a faculty Which 1. Controls sense : and, 2. Collects and
unites all the perceptions of our several senses. 3. That memory and
prevision are not explicable upon the supposition of matter and motion. 73
CHAP. IV.
The second argument for the immortality of the soul. Actions either auto
matical or spontaneous. That spontaneous and illicit actions evidence
the distinction of the soul from the body. Lucretius' evasion very
slight and weak. That the liberty of the will is inconsistent with the
Epicurean principles. That the conflict of reason against the sensitive
appetite argues a being in us superior to matter  91
e

XXXVI CONTENTS. CHAP. V. Page
The third argument for the immortality of the soul. That mathematical
notions argue the soul to be of a true spiritual and immaterial nature. . . 99
CHAP. VI.
The fourth argument for the immortality of tho soul. That those clear
and stable ideas of truth which are in man's mind evince an immortal
and immaterial substance residing in us, distinct from the body. The
soul more knowable than the body. Some passages out of Plotinus
and Proclus for the further confirming of this argument  103
CHAP. VII.
What it is that, beyond the highest and most subtile speculations whatso
ever, does clear and evidence to a good man the immortality of his
soul. That true gpodness and virtue begets the most raised sense of
this immortality. Plotinus' excellent discourse to this purpose  108
CHAP. VIII.
An appendix, containing an inquiry into the sense and opinion of Aris
totle concerning the immortality of the soul. That according to him
the rational soul is separable from the body and immortal. The true
meaning of his intellectus agens aa&patiens  113
CHAP. IX.
A main difficulty concerning the immortality of the soul [viz. The strong
sympathy of the soul with the body] answered. An answer to another
inquiry, viz. Under what account impressions derived from the body
do fall in morality  120

DISCOURSE V.
1 OP THE
EXISTENCE AND NATURE OF GOD.
CHAP. I.
That the best way to know God is by an attentive reflexion upon our
own souls. God more clearly and lively pictured upon the souls of
men, than upon any part of the sensible world  133
1

CONTENTS. XXXVII
CHAP. II. Page
How the contemplation of our own souls, and a right reflexion upon the
operations thereof, may lead us into the knowledge of 1. The divine
unity and omniscience, 2. God's omnipotence, 3. The divine love and
goodness, 4. God's eternity, 5. His omnipresence, 6. The divine free
dom and liberty  137
CHAP. III.
How the consideration of those restless motions of our wills after some
supreme and infinite good, leads us into the knowledge of a Deity  145
CHAP. IV.
deductions and inferences from the consideration of the
divine nature and attributes.
1. That all divine productions are the free effluxes of omnipotent love and
goodness. The true notion of God's glory what it is. Men very apt
to mistake in this point. God needs not the happiness or misery of bis
creatures to make himself glorious. God does most glorify himself by
communicating himself: we most glorify God when we most partake
of him, and resemble him most....  151
CHAP. V.
A SECOND DEDUCTION.
2. That all things are supported and governed by an almighty wisdom
and goodness. An answer to an objection made against the divine
providence from an unequal distribution of things here below. Such
quarrelling with providence ariseth from a pedantic and carnal notion of
good and evil  155
CHAP. VI.
A THIRD DEDUCTION.
3. That all true happiness consists in a participation of God, arising out
of the assimilation and conformity of our souls to him ; and, that the
most real misery ariseth out of the apostasy of souls from God. No .
enjoyment of God without our being made like to him. The happiness
and misery of man defined and stated, with the original and foundation
of both  159

XXXVIII CONTENTS.

CHAP. VII.
A FOURTH DEDUCTION. Page
4. The fourth deduction acquaints us with the true notion of the divine
justice, That the proper scope and design of it, is to preserve righteous
ness, to. promote and encourage true goodness. That it does not
primarily intend punishment, but only takes it up as a mean to prevent
transgression. True justice never supplants any that itself may appear
gloriousin their ruins. How divine justice is most advanced  163

CHAP. VIII.
THE FIFTH AND LAST DEDUCTION.
5. That seeing there is such an intercourse and society, as it were, between
God and men, therefore there' is also some law between them, which
is the bond of all communion. The primitive rules of God's economy
in this world, not the sole results of an absolute will, but the sacred
decrees of reason and goodness. God could not design to make us
sinful or miserable. Of the law of nature imbosomed in man's soul.
How it obliges man to love and obey God, and to express a godlike
spirit and life in this world. All souls the offspring of God ; but holy
souls manifest themselves to be, and are more peculiarly, the children
of God  16fJ
CHAP. IX.
An appendix concerning the reason of positive laws  170
CHAP. X.
The conclusion of this treatise concerning the existence and nature of
God, showing how our knowledge of God comes to be so imperfect in
this state, while we are here in this terrestrial body. Two ways observed
by Plotinus, whereby this body does prejudice the soul in her opera
tions. That the better philosophers and more contemplative Jews did
not deny the existence of all kind of body in the other state. What
meant by Zoroaster's ettiaXm i^u^si,-. What kind of knowledge of God
cannot be attained to in this life. What meant by flesh and blood,
1 Cor. xv, 50  ,  174

CONTENTS. XXXIX
DISCOURSE VI.
OF PROPHECY.
CHAP. I. Page
That prophecy is the way whereby revealed truth is dispensed and con-
veyed to us. Man's mind capable of conversing and being acquainted
as well with revealed or positive truth, as with natural truth. Truths
of natural inscription may be excited in us and cleared to us by means
of prophetical influence. That the Scripture frequently accommodates
itself to vulgar apprehension, and speaks of things in the greatest way
of condescension  181
CHAP. II.
That the prophetical spirit did not always manifest itself with the same
clearness and evidence. The gradual difference of divine illumination
between Moses, the prophets, and the hagiographi. A general survey
of the nature of prophecy properly so called. Of the joint impressions
and operations of the understanding and fancy in prophecy. Of the
four degrees of prophecy. The difference between a vision and a
dream  188
CHAP. III.
How the prophetical dreams did differ from all other kinds of dreams
recorded in Scripture. This further illustrated out of several passages
of Philo Judaeus pertinent to this purpose  197
CHAP. IV.
A large account of the difference between the true prophetical spirit and >'
enthusiastical impostures. That the pseudo-prophetical spirit is seated ) ,.'
only in the imaginative powers and faculties inferior to reason. That '
Plato and other wise men had a very low opinion of this spirit, and of
the gift of divination, and of consulting the oracles. That the true
prophetical spirit seats itself as well in the rational powers as in the sen
sitive, and that it never alienates the mind, but informs and enlightens
it. This further cleared by several testimonies from Gentile and Chris
tian writers of old. An account of those fears and consternations
which often seized upon the prophets. How the prophets perceived
when the prophetical influx seized upon them. The different evidence
and energy of the true and false prophetical spirit,  204

Xl CONTENTS.
CHAP. V. Page
An inquiry concerning the immediate efficient that represented the pro
phetical visions to the fancy of the prophet. That these representations
were made in the prophet's fancy by some angel. This cleared by
several passages out of the Jewish monuments, and by testimonies of
Scripture  226
CHAP. VI.
The second inquiry, What the meaning of those actions is that are fre
quently attributed to the prophets, whetlier they were real, or only
imaginary and scenical. What actions of the prophets were only ima
ginary and performed upon the stage of fancy. What we are to think
of several actions and res gestce recorded of Hosea, Jeremiah, and
Ezekiel, in their prophecies  237
CHAP. VII.
Of that degree of divine inspiration properly called Ruach hahkodesh, i. u.
the Holy Spirit. The nature of it described out of Jewish antiquities.
Wherein this Spiritus Sanctus differed from prophecy strictly so called,
and from the spirit of holiness in purified souls. What books of the
Old Testament were ascribed by the Jews to Ruach hahkodesh. Of the
Urim and Thummim  247
CHAP. VIII.
Of the dispositions antecedent and preparatory to prophecy. That the
qualifications which did fit a man for the prophetical spirit were such as
these, viz. Inward piety, true wisdom, a pacate and serene temper of
mind, and a due cheerfulness of spirit ; in opposition to viciousness,
mental crazedness and inconsistency, unsubdued passions, black melan
choly and dull sadness. This illustrated by several instances in Scrip
ture. That music was greatly advantageous to the prophets and holy
men of God, &c. What is meant by Saul's evil spirit  -. 258
CHAP. IX.
Of the sons or disciples of the prophets. An account of several schools
of prophetical education, as at Naioth in Rama, at Jerusalem, Jericho,
Gilgal, &c. Several passages in the historical books of Scripture perti
nent to this argument explained  271

CONTENTS. Xii
CHAP. X. Page
Of Bath Kol, i. e. Filia Vocis : That it succeeded in the room of pro
phecy : That it was by the Jews counted the lowest degree of revelation.
What places in the New Testament are to be understood of it.  277
CHAP. XI.
Of the highest degree of divine inspiration, viz. the Mosaical. Four dif
ferences between the divine revelations made to Moses, and to the rest
of the prophets. , How the doctrine of men prophetically inspired is to
approve itself by miracles, or by its reasonableness. The sympathy and
agreeableness between a holy mind and divine truth  281
CHAP. XII.
When the prophetical spirit ceased in the Jewish church, The cessation
of prophecy noted as a famous epocha by the Jews. The restoring of
the prophetical spirit by Christ Some passages to this purpose in the
New Testament explained. When the prophetical spirit ceased in tlie
Christian church. That it did not continue long, proved by several
testimonies of the ancient writers  287
CHAP. XIII.
Some rules and observations concerning prophetical writ in general....... 293

DISCOURSE VII.
OF
LEGAL AND EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS.
CHAP. I.
The intrdduction, showing what it is to have a right knowledge of divine
truth, and what it is that is either available or prejudicial to the true
Christian knowledge and life  307
CHAP. II.
An inquiry into that Jewish notion of a legal righteousness, which is
opposed by St. Paul. That their notion of it was such as this, viz.
That the law externally dispensed to them, though it were as a dead

xiii CONTENTS. Page
letter, merely without them, and conjoined with the power of their own
free-will, was sufficient to procure them acceptance with God, and to
acquire merit enough to purchase eternal life, perfection and happiness.
That this their notion had these two grounds ; First, An opinion of
their own self-sufficiency, and that their free-will was so absolute and
perfect, as that they needed not that God should do any thing for them,
but only furnish them with some laws to exercise this innate power
about. That they asserted such a freedom of will as might be to them
a foundation of merit  311
CHAP. III.
The second ground of the Jewish notion of a legal righteousness, viz.
That the law delivered to them on mount Sinai was a sufficient dispen
sation from God, and all that needed to be done by him to bring them
to perfection and happiness ': and that the scope of their law was no
thing but to afford them several ways and means of merit. The opinion
of the Jewish writers concerning merit and the reward due to the works
of the law. Their distinguishing of men in order to merit and demerit
into three sorts, viz. perfectly righteous, perfectly wicked, and a mid
dle sort betwixt these. The mercenary and low spirit of the Jewish
reUgion. An account of what the Cabalists held in this point of legal
righteousness  320
CHAP. IV.
The second inquiry concerning the evangelical righteousness, or the
righteousness of faith, and the true difference between the law and the
gospel, the old and the new covenant, as it is laid down by the apostle
Paul. A more general answer to this inquiry, together with a general
observation of the apostle's main end in opposing faith to the works of
the law, viz. To beat down the Jewish proud conceit of merit. A
more particular and distinct answer to the inquiry, viz. That the law,
or old covenant, is considered only as an external administration, a
dead thing in itself, a dispensation consisting in an outward and written
law of precepts -. but the gospel, or new covenant, is an internal thing,
a vital form and principle of righteousness in the souls of men, an in
ward manifestation of divine life, and a living impression upon the
minds and spirits of men. This proved from several testimonies of
Scripture  ,  332

CONTENTS. xliii
CHAP. V. Tage
Two propositions for the better understanding ofthe doctrine of justifica
tion and divine acceptance. 1. Prop. That the divine judgment and
estimation of every thing is according to the truth of the thing ; and
God's acceptance or disacceptance of things is suitable to his judgment.
On what account St. James does attribute a kind of justification to
good works. 2. Prop. God's justifying of sinners, in pardoning their
sins, carries in it a necessary reference to the sanctifying of their na
tures. "This abundantly proved from the nature of the thing  351
CHAP. VI.
How the gospel righteousness is conveyed to us by faith, made to appear
from these two considerations. 1. The gospel lays a strong foundation
of a cheerful dependence upon the grace and love of God, and affiance
in it. This confirmed by several gospel expressions containing plainly
in them the most strong motives and encouragements to all ingenuous
addresses to God, to all cheerful dependence on him, and confident
expectation of all assistance from bim. 2. A true evangelical faith is
no lazy or languid thing, but an ardent breathing and thirsting after
divine grace and righteousness : it looks beyond a mere pardon of sin,
and mainly pursues after an inward participation of the divine nature.
The mighty power of a living faith in the love and goodness of God,
discoursed of throughout the whole chapter  359
CHAP. VII.
An appendix to the foregoing discourse ; How the whole business and
undertaking of Christ is eminently available both to give full relief and
ease to our minds and hearts, and also to encourage us to godliness or
a godlike righteousness, briefly represented in sundry particulars  371

DISCOURSE VIII.
OF THE
SHORTNESS OF A PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS.
CHAP. I.
A general account of men's mistakes about religion. Men are nowhere
more lazy and sluggish, and more apt to delude themselves, than in
matters of religion. The religion of most men is but an image and
resemblance of their own fancies. The method propounded for dis-
f

xliv

CONTENTS.

coursing upon those words in St. Matthew. 1. To discover some of
the mistakes and false notions about religion. 2. To discover the rea
son of these mistakes. A brief explication of the words  377
CHAP. II.
An account of men's mistakes about religion in four particulars. I. A
partial obedience to some particular precepts. The false spirit of reli
gion spends itself in some particulars, is confined, is overswayed by
some prevailing lust. ' Men of this spirit may, by some book-skill, and
a zeal about the externals of religion, lose the sense of their own
guiltiness, and of their deficiences in the essentials of godliness, and
fancy themselves nearly related to <5od. Where the true spirit of reli
gion is, it informs and actuates the whole man, it will not be confined,
but will be absolute within us, and not suffer any corrupt interest to
grow by it  381
CHAP. III.
The second mistake about religion, viz. A mere compliance of the out
ward man with the law of God. True religion seats itself in the centre
of men's souls, and first brings the inward man into obedience to the
law of God : the superficial religion intermeddles chiefly with the cir.
cumference and outside of men ; or rests in an outward abstaining from
some sins. Of speculative and tbe most close and spiritual wickedness
within. How apt men are to sink all religion into opinions and exter
nal forms  385
CHAP. IV.
The third mistake about religion, viz. A constrained and forced obedience
lo God's commandments. The religion of many (some of whom would
seem most abhorrent from superstition) is nothing else but superstition
properly so called. False religionists, having no inward sense of the
divine goodness, cannot truly love God, yet their sour and dreadful
apprehensions of God compel them to serve him. A slavish spirit in
religion may be very prodigal in such kind of serving God as doth not
' pinch their corruptions ; but in the great and weightier matters of reli
gion, in such things as prejudice their beloved lusts, it is very needy and
sparing. This servile spirit has low and mean thoughts of God, but a
high opinion of its outward services, as conceiting that by such cheap
things God is gratified and becomes indebted to it. The different
effects of love and slavish fear in the truly, and in the falsely, reb'gious. 390

CONTENTS. XlV
CHAP. V. Page
The fourth and last mistake about religion, When a mere mechanical
and artificial religion is taken for that which is a true impression of hea
ven upon the souls of men, and wliich moves like a new nature. How
religion is by some made a piece of art, and how there may be specious
and plausible imitations of the internals of religion as well as of the
externals. The method and power of fancy in contriving such arti
ficial imitations. How apt men are in these to deceive both themselves
and others. The difference between those that are governed in their
religion by fancy, and those that are actuated by the divine Spirit, and
in whom religion is a living form. That true religion is no art, but a
new nature. Religion discovers itself best in a serene and clear temper
of mind, in deep humility, meekness, self-denial, universal love of
God and all true goodness  395

DISCOURSE IX.
OF THE
EXCELLENCY AND NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION.
CHAP. I.
I. The nobleness of religion in regard of its original and fountain: it
comes from heaven and moves towards heaven again. God the first
excellency and primitive perfection. All perfections and excellencies
in any kind are to be measured by their approach tu, and participation
of, the first perfection. Religion the greatest participation of God :
none capable of this divine communication but the highest of created
beings : and consequently religion is the greatest excellency. A two
fold fountain in God whence religion flows, viz. 1. His nature. 2. His
will. Of truth, natural and revealed. Of an outward and inward
revelation of God's will  ;  408
CHAP. II.
2. The nobleness of religion in respect of its nature, briefly discovered in
some particulars. How a man actuated by religion, 1. Lives above
the world ; 2. Converses with himself, and knows how to love, value,
and reverence himself, in the best sense ; 3. Lives above himself, not
being content to enjoy himself, except he may enjoy God too, and
himself in God. How he denies himself for God. To deny a man's

ilvi CONTENTS. Page
self, is not to deny right reason, for that were to deny God, instead
of denying himself for God. Self-love the only principle that acts
wicked men. The happy privileges of a soul united to God  413
CHAP. III.
3. The nobleness of religion in regard of its properties, &c. of which this
is one, I. Religion enlarges all the faculties of the soul, and begets a
true ingenuity,/liberty, and amplitude, the most free and generous
spirit in the minds of good men. The nearer any being comes to God,
the more large and free; the further it slides from God, the more
straitened. Sin is the sinking of man's soul from God into sensual
selfishness. An account when the most generous freedom of the soul
is to be taken in its just proportions. How mechanical and formal
Christians make an art of religion, set it such bounds as may not ex
ceed the scant measure of their principles ; and then fit their own no
tions as so many examples to it. A good man finds not his religion
without him, but as a living principle within him. God's immutable
and eternal goodness the unchangeable rule of his will. Peevish, self-
willed, and imperious men, shape out such notions of God as are agree
able to this pattern of themselves. The truly religious have better
apprehensions of God  442
CHAP. IV.
The second property discovering the nobleness of religion, viz. That it
restores man to a just power and dominion over himself, enables him
to overcome his self-will and passions. Of self-will, and the many
evils that flow from it. That religion does nowhere discover its power
and prowess so much, as in subduing this dangerous and potent enemy.
The highest and noblest victories are those over our self-will and pas
sions. Of self-denial, and the having power over our wills ; the hap
piness and the privileges of such a state. How that magnanimity and
puissance, which religion begets in holy souls, differs from and excels
that gallantry and puissance which the great Nimrods of this world
boast of.  427
CHAP. V.
The third property or effect discovering the nobleness of religion, viz.
That it directs and enables a man to propound to himself the best end,
viz. Tlie glory of God, and his own becoming like unto God. Low
and particular ends and interests both debase and straiten « man's
spirit -. the universal, highest, and last end both ennobles and enlarges
1

CONTENTS. Xlvii Page
it. A man is such as the end he aims at. The great power the end
hath to mould and fashion man into its likeness. Religion obliges a
man, not to seek himself, nor to drive a trade for himself; but to seek
the glory of God, to live wholly to him ; and guides him steadily and
uniformly to the one chief good and last end. Men are prone to flatter
themselves with a pretended aiming at the glory of God. A more full
and distinct explication of what is meant by a man's directing all his
actions to the glory of God. What it is truly and really to glorify
God. God's seeking his glory in respect of us is the flowing forth of
his goodness upon us : our seeking the glory of God is our endeavour
ing to partake more of God, and to resemble him, as much as we can,
in true holiness and every divine virtue. That we are not nicely to
distinguish between the glory of God and our own salvation. That
salvation is nothing else for the main, but a true participation of the
divine nature. To love God above ourselves, is not to love him
above the salvation of our souls ; but above our particular beings, and
above our sinful affections, &c. The difference between things that
are good relatively, and those that are good absolutely and essentially :
that in our conformity to these, God is most glorified, and we are made
most happy, i  434
CHAP. VI.
The fourth property or effect discovering the excellency of religion, viz.
That it begets the greatest serenity and composedness of mind, and
brings the truest contentment, the purest and most satisfying joy and
pleasure to every holy soul. God, as being that uniform chief good,
and the one last end, does attract and fix the soul. Wicked men dis
tracted through a multiplicity of objects and ends. How the restless
appetite of our wills after some supreme good leads to the knowledge,
as of a Dejty, so of the unity of a Deity. How the joys and delights
of good men differ from, and far excel those of the wicked. The con
stancy and tranquillity of the spirits of good men in reference to ex
ternal troubles. All perturbations of the mind arise from an inward
rather than an outward cause. The Stoics' method for attaining kra^a-
!-ia, and true rest examined, and the insufficiency of it discovered. A
further illustration of what has been said concerning the peaceful and
happy state of good men, from the contrary state ofthe wicked  443
CHAP. VII.
The fifth property or effect discovering the excellency of religion, viz.
That it advanceth the soul to a holy boldness and humble familiarity

xlviii CONTENTS. Page
with God, and to a comfortable confidence concerning the love of God
towards it, and its own salvation. Fearfulness, consternation of mind,
and frightful passions are consequent upon sin and guilt. These, to
gether with the most dismal deportments of trembling and amazement,
are agreeable to the nature of the devil, who delights to be served in
this manner by his worshippers. Love, joy, and hope are most agree
able to the nature of God, and most pleasing to him. The right
apprehensions of God are such as are apt to beget love to God, delight
and confidence in him. A true Christian is more for a solid and well-
grounded peace than for high raptures and feelings of joy. How a
Christian should endeavour the assurance of his salvation. That he
should not importunately expect or desire some extraordinary manifes
tations of God to him, but rather look after the manifestation of the
life of God within him, the foundation or beginning of heaven and
salvation in his own soul. That self-resignation, and the subduing of
our own wills, are greatly available to obtain assurance. The vanity
and absurdity of that opinion, viz. That in a perfect resignation, of our
wills to God's will, a man should be content with his own damnation,
and to be the subject of eternal wrath inhell, if it should so please
God  456
CHAP. VIII.
The sixth property or effect discovering the excellency of religion, viz.
That it spiritualizes material things, and carries up the souls of good
men from sensible and earthly things, to things intellectual and divine.
There are lesser and fuller representations of God in the creatures. To
converse with God in the creation, and to pass out of the sensible
world into the intellectual, is most effectually taught by religion.
Wicked men converse not with God as shining out in the creatures ;
they converse with them in a sensual and unspiritual manner. Reli
gion does spiritualize the creation to good men : it teaches them to
look at any perfections or excellencies in themselves and others, not so
much as theirs or others, but as so many beams flowing from one and
the same fountain of light ; to love them all in God, and God in all ;
the universal goodness in a particular being. A good man enjoys and
delights in whatsoever good he sees otherwhere, as if it were his own :
he does not fondly love and esteem either himself or others. The di
vine temper and strain of the ancient philosophy  4g3
CHAP. IX.
The seventh and last property or effect discovering the excellency of reli-

CONTENTS. Xlix P.ige
gion, viz. That it raiseth the minds of good men to a due observance
of, and attendance upon, divine providence, and enables them to serve
the will of God, and to acquiesce in it. For a man to serve providence
and the will of God entirely, to work with God, and to bring himself
and all his actions into a compliance with God's will, his ends and de
signs, is an argument of the truest nobleness of spirit; it is the most
excellent and divine life ; and it is most for man's advantage. How the
consideration of divine providence is the way to inward quietness and
establishment of spirit. How wicked men carry themselves unbecom
ingly through their impatience and fretfulness under the disposals of
providence. The beauty and harmony of the various methods of pro
vidence.  4g9
CHAP. X.
4. The excellency of religion in regard of its progress, as it is perpetually
carrying on the soul towards perfection. Every nature hath its proper
centre which it hastens to. Sin and wickedness is within the attractive
power of hell, and hastens thither : grace and holiness is within the
central force of heaven, and moves thither. It is not the speculation of
heaven as a thing to come that satisfies the desires of religious souls,
but tbe real possession of it even in this life. Men are apt to seek after
assurance of heaven as a thing to come, rather than after heaven itself
and the inward possession of it here. How the assurance of heaven
rises from the growth of holiness and the powerful progress of religion
in our souls. That we are not hastily to believe that we are Christ's,
or that Christ is in us. That the works which Christ does in holy souls
testify of him, and best evidence Christ's spiritual appearance in them. 474
CHAP. XI.
5. The excellency of religion in regard of its term and end, viz. Perfect
blessedness. How unable we are in this state to comprehend and de
scribe the full and perfect state of happiness and glory to come. The
more godlike a Christian is, the better may he understand that stale.
Holiness and happiness not two distinct things, but two several notions
of one and the same thing. Heaven cannot so well be defined by any
thing without us, as by something within us. The great nearness and
. affinity between sin and hell. The conclusion of this treatise, contain
ing a serious exhortation to a diligent minding of religion, with a dis
covery of tbe vanity of those pretences which keep men off from
minding religion  478

CONTENTS.

DISCOURSE X.

A CHRISTIAN'S CONFLICTS WITH, AND
CONQUESTS OVER, SATAN.
CHAP. I. Page
The introduction, summarily treating of the perpetual enmity between
God, the principle of good, and the principle of evil, the devil : as also
between whatsoever is from God and that -which is from tbe devil.
That wicked men, by destroying what there is from God within them,
and devesting themselves of all that which hath any alliance to God or
true goodness, and transforming themselves into the diabolical image, fit
themselves for correspondence and converse with the devil. The fears
and horrors which infest both the apostate spirits and wicked men. The
weakness of the devil's kingdom ; Christ's success against it  491
CHAP. II.
The first observable, That the devil is continually busy with us. The
devil considered under a double notion. 1. As an apostate spirit which
fell from God. The great danger of the devil's activity, not only
when he presents himself in some corporeal shape, but when he is un
seen and appears not- The weakness and folly of those who are afraid
of him only when he appears imbodied. That the good Spirit of God
is active for the good of souls.' How regardless men are of the gentle
motions of the divine spirit ; and how unwatchful and secure under tbe
suggestions of tbe evil spirit. How we may discover the devil in his
stratagems and under his several disguises and appearances  495
CHAP. III.
2. Of ihe activity of the devil considered as a spirit of apostasy, and as a
degenerate nature in men. That the devil is not only the name of one
particular thing, but a nature. The difference between the devil and
wicked men is rather the difference of a name than of natures. The
kingdom and tyranny of the devil and hell is chiefly within, in the qua
lities and dispositions of men's minds. Men are apt to quarrel with
the devil in the name and notion, and defy him with their tongues,
while they entertain him in their hearts, and comply with all that which

CONTENTS. li
the devil is. The vanity of their pretended love to God, and hatred of
the devil. That there is nothing better than God himself, for which we
should love him ; and to love him for his own beauty and excellency is
the best way of loving him. That there is nothing worse than sin itself,
for which we should hate it ; and to hate it for its own deformity is the
truest way of hating it. How hell and misery arises from within men.
Why wicked men are so insensible of their misery in this life  499
CHAP. IV.
The second observable, viz. The warfare of a Christian life. True reli
gion consists not in a mere passive capacity and sluggish kind of doing
nothing, nor in a melancholy sitting still or slothful waiting, &c. but it
consists in inward life and power, vigour and activity. A discovery of
the dulness and erroneousness of that hypothesis, vix. That good men
are wholly passive and unable at any time to move without some ex
ternal impetus, some impression and impulse from without upon them :
or, that all motions in religion are from an external principle. Of the
quality aud nature of the true spiritual warfare, and of the manner and
method of it. That it is transacted upon the inner stage of men's souls,
and managed without noise or pompous observation ; and without any
hinderance or prejudice to the most peaceful, sedate, and composed
temper of a religious soul. This further illustrated from the consider
ation of the false and pretended zeal for God and his kingdom against
the devil ; which though it be impetuous, and makes a great noise, and
a fair show in the world, is yet both impotent and ineffectual  506
CHAP. V.
The third observable, viz. , The certainty of success and victory to all
those that resist the devil. This grounded upon, 1. The weakness of
the devil and sin considered in themselves. 2. God's powerful assisting
all faithful Christians in this warfare. The devil may allure and tempt,
but cannot prevail, except men consent and yield to his suggestions.
The devil's strength lies in men's treachery and falseness to their own
souls. Sin is strong, because men oppose it weakly. Tbe error of the
Manichees about a principium mali defended by men in their lives and
practices. Of God's readiness to assist Christians in their spiritual con
flicts ; his compassionate regards and the more special respects of his
providence towards them in such occasions. The conclusion, discover
ing the evil and horridness of magic, diabolical contracts, &c  512
g

DISCOURSES.

DISCOURSE

CONCERNING

THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD OF ATTAINING
DIVINE KNOWLEDGE.

Tke fear of tke Lord is tke beginning of wisdom: a good understanding kavc all
they that do his commandments. Psal. cxi. 10.
If any man will do his wilt, ke shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of
God, John vii. 17.
n&Is Se \ffTi Swvarflv, vrrtiB-ivra rm rov fft»(/.ctro$ v$ovw, i^of^oiouffB-ui rS K.U{>i<j>t
©say Se yvuffiv Xafhiiv rats 'in itvro tov wo&m ayoftivotSt advrocrov-—™
Ta TVS ^oXirtiots \~kiyx1' c^<P^i tou; lyvaxorets ro&$ tvroXas. osvro r&v Kctgrttut
<ro SewSjov, oifK xro rwv olvS-mv xa.) ifirci^aiy, yw(>i£irou. vt yvutrts ouv Ik tou *ag-
ir&u xa,) tw$ WsAjTs/aj, olx lx, rou Xoyou xm tou avSouj.
Clem. Alexandr. Strom. 3.

PREFATORY DISCOURSE

CONCERNING

THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD OF ATTAINING
DIVINE KNOWLEDGE.

SECTION I.

That divine things are to be understood rather by a spiritual sen
sation than a verbal description, or mere speculation. Sin and
wickedness prejudicial to true knowledge. That purity of heart
and life, as also an ingenuous freedom of judgment, are the best
grounds and preparations for the entertainment qf truth.
J.T hath been long since well observed, that every
art and science hath some certain principles upon
which the whole frame and body of it must de
pend ; and he that will fully acquaint himself with
the mysteries thereof, must come furnished with
some prcecognita or wgoX^g;?, that I may speak in
the language of the Stoics. Were I indeed to de
fine divinity, I should rather call it a divine life,
than a divine science ; it being something rather to
be understood by a^Mtaal_sjensatign, than by any
verbal description, as all things of sense and Ufe
are best known by sentient and vital faculties; yvuatg
iKuorov h' opotbrnros y'mTKi, as the Greek Philosopher

4 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
hath well observed, every thing is best known by
that which bears a just resemblance and analogy
with it: and therefore the scripture is wont to
set forth a good life as the prolepsis and funda
mental principle of divine science ; " Wisdom hath
builded her house, and hewn out her seven pil
lars :"* but " the fear ofthe Lord is nMn nWN"l
the beginning of wisdom,"t the foundation ofthe
whole fabric.
We shall therefore, as a prolegomenon or preface
to what we shall afterward discourse upon the
heads of divinity, speak something of this true
method qf knowing, which is not so much by no
tions as actions ; as religion itself consists not so
, much in words as in things. They are not always
the best skilled in divinity, that are the most
studied in those pandects, into which it is sometimes
digested, or that have erected the greatest mono
polies of art and science. He that is most prac-
i tical in divine things* hath the purest and siri-
| cerest knowledge of them, and. not he that is most
dogmatical. Divinity indeed is a true efflux from
tJie eternal light, which, like the sun-beams, does
not only enlighten, but heat and enliven; and
therefore our Saviour hath in his beatitudes con
nected purity of heart with the beatifical vision.
And as the eye cannot behold the sun, qktoufyg prj
yivbpivog, X unless it be sunlike, and hath the form
and resemblance of the sun drawn in it; so
neither can the soul of man behold God, Ssositirjg
p?j yivoy&vri, unless it be Godlike, hath God formed in
it, and. be made partaker of the divine nature. And
the apostle St. Paul, when hewould lay open the right
* Prov. ix. 1. f Ver- 10. 1 Plotin. En. 1. 1. 6.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 5
way of attaining to divine truth, saith, that "know- j
ledge puffeth up," but it is " love that edifieth."* [
The knowledge of divinity that appears in systems I
and models is but a poor wan light; but the {
powerful energy of divine knowledge displays it- I
self in purified souls : here we shall find the true j
tssdiBv kkrfc'uug, as the ancient philosophy speaks, \
' the land of truth/
/ To seek our divinity merely in books and writ- '
ings, is to seek the living among the dead: we do '
but in vain seek God many times in these, where
his truth too often is not so much enshrined as en
tombed : ab ; intra te quaere Deum, seek for God
within thine own soul ; he is best discerned nosqS
Ira/pfi, as Plotinus phraseth it, by an intellectual
touch of him: we must "see with our eyes, and
hear with our ears, and our hands must handle the u
word of life,"t that I may express it in St. John's (
words. "Eo-77 xoti ipvxfis ahSrjslg ng. The soul itself
hath its sense, as well as the body : and therefore
David, when he would teach us how to know what
the divine goodness is, calls not for speculation but
sensation, " Taste and see how good the Lord
isJ't /That is not the best and truest knowledge
of God which is wrought out by the labour and
sweat of the brain, but that which is kindled with
in us by a heavenly warmth in our hearts. As
in the natural body, it is the heart that sends up
good blood and warm spirits into the head, where
by it is best enabled to perform its several functions ;
so that which enables us to know and understand
aright in the things of God, must be a living prin
ciple of holiness within us. When the tree of\
»i Cor. viii. 1. ¦)• 1 John i. 1 i Psal. xxiv. 8.

6 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
knowledge is not planted by the tree of life, and
sucks not up sap from thence, it may be as well
fruitful with evil as with good, and bring forth bitter
fruit as well as sweet. If we would indeed have
our knowledge thrive and flourish, we must water
the tender plants of it with hohness. When Zoro
aster's scholars asked him what they should do to
get winged souls,' such as might soar aloft in the
bright beams of divine truth, he bids them bathe
themselves in the waters of life : they asking what
they were, he tells them, the four cardinal virtues,
which are the four rivers of paradise. It is but a
thin airy knowledge that is got by mere specula
tion, which is ushered in by syllogisms and de
monstrations ; but that which springs forth from
true goodness, is ^£/6reg6i> n ratnjg arohi^eag, as
Origen speaks, it brings such a divine light into
the soul, as is more clear and convincing than any
I demonstration. The reason_why, notwithstanding
all our acute reasons and subtile disputes, truth
! prevails no more in the world, is, we so often dis-
1 join truth and true goodness, which in themselves
| can never be disunited ; they grow both from the
| same root, and live in one another. We may, like
those in Plato's deep pit with their faces bended
downwards, converse with sounds and shadows;
but not with the life and substance Of truth, while
our souls remain defiled with any- vice or lusts.
These are the black. Lethe lake which drench the
souls of men : he that wants true virtue, in heaven's
logic, " is blind, and cannot see afar off." * Those
J filthy mists that arise from impure and terrene
| minds, like an atmosphere, perpetually encompass
* 2 Peter i. 9.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 7
them, that they cannot see that sun of divine truth!
that shines about them, but never shines into any!
unpurged souls ; the darkness comprehends it not,
the foolish man understands it not. All the light
and knowledge that may seem sometimes to rise
up in unhallowed minds, is but like those fuliginous
flames that arise up from our culinary fire, that are
soon quenched in their own smoke ; or like those
foolish fires that fetch their birth from terrene exu
dations, that do but hop up and down, and flit to
and fro upon the surface of this earth where they
were first brought forth ; and serve not so much to
enlighten, as to delude us ; nor to direct the wan
dering traveller into his way, but to lead him far
ther out of it. While we lodge any filthy vice in
us, this will be perpetually twisting itself into the
thread of our finest spun speculations ; it will be
continually climbing up into the to 'Hyepovixdv, the
hegemonical powers of the soul, into the bed of
reason, and defile it : hke the wanton ivy twisting
itself about the oak, it will twine about our judg
ments and understandings, till it hath sucked out
the life and spirit of them. I cannot think such
black oblivion should possess the minds of some,
as to make them question that truth which to
good men shines as bright as the sun at noon-day,
had they not foully defiled their own souls with some
hellish vice or other, how fairly soever it may be they
may dissemble it. There is a_benumbing_ spirit,
a congealing vapour that ariseth from sin and vice,
that will stupify the senses of the soul; as the
naturalists" say there is from the torpedo, that
smites the senses of those that approach to it.
This is that venomous solanum, that deadly night-

O THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
shade, that drives its cold poison into the under
standings of men.
Such as men_^mselve^^.^ucJi„3riB. God hinL-
self seem to be. It is the maxim of most wicked
men, that the Deity is some way or other like themm
selves : their souk do more than whisper it, though
their Hps speak it not ; and though their tongues
be silent, yet their lives cry it upon the house topsy
amid in the public streets., That idea which men
generally have of God isa nothing else but the pic
ture of their own complexion : that archetypal no
tion of him which hath the supremacy in their
minds, is none else but such a one as hath been
shaped out according to some pattern of them
selves; though they may so clothe and disguise
this idol of their own, when they carry it about in
a pompous procession to expose it to the view of
the world, that it may seem very beautiful, and in
deed any thing else rather than what it is. Most
men, though it may be they themselves; take no
great notice of it, like that dissembling monk, ali-
ter sentire in sckolis, aliter in musceis, are of a differ
ent judgment in the schools from what they are in
the retirements of their private closets. There is
a double head, as well as a double heart. Men's
corrupt heart* will not suffer their notions and
ccoaceptions of divine things to be cast into that
form, that a higher reason, which may sometime
work within them, would put them into*
I would not be thought all this while to banish
the befief of all innate notions of divine truth : but
these are toa often smothered, or tainted with a
deep dye of men's filthy lusts. It is but lux sepulta
in opaei materia, light buried and stifled in some

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 9
dark body, from whence all those coloured, or ra
ther discoloured, notions and apprehensions of divine
things are begotten. Though these common no
tions may be very busy sometimes in the vegetation
of divine knowledge ; yet the corrupt vices of men
may so clog, disturb, and overrule them, as the
naturalists say, this unruly and masterless matter
doth the natural forms in the formation of living
creatures, that they may produce nothing but mon
sters, miserably distorted and misshapen. This
kind of science, as Plotinus speaks, tu vKixu irdkhS
ffvvowet,, xui slg uut^v ilah^ttfjuir/i, t&og 'in^ov jjXX<£SjeM-o
xgdau if :rgo? ro %s5goi<, « accompanying too familiar
ly with matter, and receiving and imbibing it into
itself, changeth its shape by this incestuous mixr
ture.' At best, while any inward lust is harbour
ed in the minds of men, it will so weaken them,
that they can never bring forth any masculine or
generous knowledge ; as JElian observes of the
stork, that if the night-owl chanceth to sit upon
her eggs, they become presently as it were mm\hia,
and all incubation rendered impotent and ineffec
tual. Sin and lust are always of a hungry nature,
and suck up all those vital affections of men's
souls which should feed and nourish their under
standings. ;
What are all our most sublime speculations of I
the Deity, that are not impregnated with true good
ness, but insipid things that have no taste nor life j
in them, that do but. swell like empty froth in the i
s.ouls of men ! They do not feed men's souls, but
only puff them up, and fill them with pride, arro
gance, contempt, and tyranny towards those that
cannot well understand their subtile curiosities : as

10 i THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
those philosophers that Tully complains of in his
times, qui disciplinam suam ostentationem scientia;,
non legem vital, putabant, which made their know
ledge pnly matter of ostentation, to venditate and
set off themselves, but never caring to square and
govern their lives by it. Such as these do but, spi
der-like, take a great deal of pains to spin a worth
less web out of their own bowels, which will not
keep them warm. These indeed are those silly
souls that are " ever learning, but never come to
the knowledge of the truth." * They may, with
Pharaoh's lean kine, eat up and devour all tongues
and sciences, and yet when they have done, still re
main lean and ill-favoured as they were at first. Je
june and barren speculations may be hovering and
fluttering up and down about divinity, but they can
not settle or fix themselves upon it : they unfold ;
the plicatures of truth's garment, but they cannot
behbld~the lovely face of it. There are hidden
mysterielTin divine truth, wrapt up one within an
other, which cannot be discerned but only by di
vine Epoptists.
We must not think we have then attained to the
right knowledge of truth, when we have broken
through the outward shell of words and phrases
that house it up ; or when by a logical analysis we
have found out the dependencies and coherencies
of them one with another; or when, like stout cham
pions of it, having well guarded it with the invin
cible strength of our demonstration, we dare stand
out in the face of the world, and challenge the field
of all those that would pretend to be our rivals.
* 2 Tim. iii. 7.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 1 1
We have many grave and reverend idolaters that
worship truth only in the image of their own wits ;
that could never adore it so much as they may
seem to do, were it any thing else but such a form
of belief as their own wandering speculations had
at last met together in, were it not that they find
their own image and superscription upon it.
There is a " knowing of the t^uth as it is in Je
sus," as it is in a, Christ-like nature, as it is in that
sweet, mild, humble, and loving spirit of Jesus,
which spreads itself Hke a morning sun upon the
souk~oTgood men, full of light and life. It profits
little to know Christ himselFafter the flesh; but he
gives his spirit to good men, that searcheth the
deep things of God. There is an inward beauty, -
life, and loveliness in divine truth, which cannot
be known but only then when it is digested into
life and practice. The Greek philosopher could
tell those high soaring Gnostics that thought them
selves no less than Jovis alites, that could (as he
speaks in the Comedy) uegoZaTeTi/ xai yrspipgomv ro»
nktov, and cried out so much /3^S!r? wgos toV Qsov,
* look upon God,' that uvtv agedfe Qeog wopa (juovou,
1 without virtue and real goodness, God is but a
name,' a dry and empty notion. The profane sort
of men, like those old Gentile Greeks, may make
many ruptures in the walls of God's temple, and
break into the holy ground, but yet may find God
no more there than they did.
Divine truth is better understood, as it unfolds
itself in the purity of men's hearts and lives, than
in all those subtile niceties into which curious wits
may lay it forth. And therefore our Saviour, who
is the great master of it, wbuld not, while he was

12'* . THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
here on earth, draw it Up into any system or body,
nor would his disciples after him ; he would not
lay it but to us in any canons or articles bf belief,
riot being indeed so careful to stock and enrich the
world with opinions and notions, as with true piety,
and a Godlike pattern of purity, as the best way
to thrive in all spiritual understanding* His main
I scope was to promote a holy life, as the best jmd
most compendious way to a right behef: He hangs
alTtrue acquaintance with divinity upon the doing
God's will, " If any man will do his will* he shall
<. know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." *
This is that alone which will make us, as St. Peter
tells us, " that we shall not be barren nor Unfruit-
*ful in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour." t
There is an inward sweetness and delicibiisness in
divine truth, which no sensual mind can taste or
relish : this is that •v|/u%i*oV «"^> that natural man
that savours not the things of God. Corrupt pas
sions and terrene affections are apt of their own
nature to disturb all serene thoughts, to precipitate
our judgments, and warp our understandings. It
was a good maxim of the old Jewish writers, tin
W22 s6i avjn ™ 16 unpn < the Holy Spirit dwells not
in terrene and earthly passions.' Divinity is not
so well perceived by a subtile wit, uczig ulaStriGu *i-
"xa^a^hri, ' as by a purified sense,' as Plotinus
phraseth it.
Neither was the ancient philosophy unacquaint
ed with this way and niethod of attaining tb the
( knowledge of divine things; and therefore X Aris
totle himself thought a young man unfit to meddle
.-<> * John vii. 17. f 2 Pet. i. 8. { Eth. Nicom. 1. 1.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 13
with the grave precepts of morahty, till the heat {-Aa
and violent precipitancy of his youthful affections . $,,
were cooled and moderated. And it is observed of
Pvjhjjgoras, that he had several ways to tiy the ca>-
pacity of his scholars, and to prove the sedateness
and moral temper of their minds, before he would
entrust them with the sublimer mysteries of his
philosophy. The Platonists were herein so wary ahd
solicitous, that they thought the minds of men could
never be purged enough from those earthly dregs
of sense and passion, in which they were so much
steeped, before they could be capable of their divine
metaphysics : and therefore they so much solicit a
yyngifrfjbog uto tou aw^otTog, as they were wont to
phrase it, ' a separation from the body,' in all those
that would za&agwg <piho<so<piiv, as Socrates speaks,
that is indeed, * sincerely understand divine truth;'
for that was the scope of their philosophy. This
was also intimated by them in their defining philo
sophy to be [jtizkirri Savurou ' a meditation of death ;'
aiming herein at only a moral way of dying, by
loosening the soul from the body and this sensitive
•Hfe; which they thought was necessary to a right
contemplation of intelligible things : and therefore,
besides those ageTUt xafoagrixou by which the souls
of men were to be separated from sensuality and
purged from fleshly filth, they devised a farther way
of separation more accommodated to the condition
of philosophers, which was their mathemata, or ma
thematical contemplations, whereby the souls of
men might farther shake off their dependency upon
sense, and learn to go as it were alone, without the
crutch of any sensible or material thing to support
them ; and so be a little inured, being once got up

14 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
above the body, to converse freely with immaterial
natures, without looking down again and faUing
back into sense. Besides many other ways they had,
whereby to rise out of this dark body; uvuftutrug ix
tov ff7rrjhaiov, as they are wont to call them, several
steps and ascents out of this miry cave of mortality,
before they could set any sure footing with their
intellectual part in the land of Hght and immortal
being. And thus we should pass from this topic of our
discourse, upon which we have dwelt too long
already, but that before we quite let it go, I hope
we may fairly make this use of it farther (besides
what we have openly driven at all this while) which
is, to learn not to devote or give up ourselves to
any private opinions or dictates of men in matters .
of religion, nor too zealously to propugn the dog
mas of any sect. As we should not like rigid cen-
surers arraign and condemn the creeds of other
men which we comply not with, before a full and
mature understanding of them, ripened not only
by the natural sagacity of our own reason, but by the
benign influence of holy and mortified affection : so*
neither should we over hastily credere in fidem ali-
enam, subscribe to the symbols and articles of other
men. They are not always the best men that blot

most paper; truth is not, I fear, so voluminous^
noTsweirs into such a mighty bulk as our books do.
Those minds are not always the most chaste, that
are most parturient with these learned discourses,
which too often bear upon them a foul stain of their
unlawful propagation. A bitter juice of corrupt
affections may sometimes be strained into the ink
of our greatest scholars ; their doctrines may taste

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 15
too sour of the cask they come -through. We are
not always happy in meeting with that wholesome
food (as some are wont to caU the doctrinal part of
religion) which hath been dressed out by the clean
est hands. Some men have too bad hearts to have
good heads: they cannot be good at theory who have
been so bad at the practice, as we may justly fear
too many of those, from whom we are apt to take
the articles of our belief, have been. Whilst we
plead so much our right to the patrimony of our
fathers, we may take too fast a possession of their
errors as weU as of their sober opinions. There
are idola specus, innate prejudices, and deceitful
hypotheses, that many times wander up and down
in the minds of good men, that may fly out from
them with their graver determinations. We can
never be well assured what our traditional divinity
is ; nor can we securely enough addict ourselves to
any sect of men. That which was the philoso
pher's motto, 'EAei&egop shui fat Ty yvwpri roc [tsKkowu
<ptko(To<f>siv, we may a little enlarge, and so fit it for
an ingenious pursuer after divine truth : * he that
will find truth, must seek it with a free judgment,.
and a sanctified mind:' he that thus seeks shall
fihirpieLsftaTI Kvein truth, and that shall live in
him; it shall be like a stream of living waters
issuing out of his own soul ; he shall drink of the
waters of his own cistern, and be satisfied; he
shall every morning find this heavenly manna
lying upon the top of his own soul, and be fed
with it to eternal life; he will find satisfaction
within, feeling himself in conjunction with
truth, though all the world should dispute against
him.

16 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD

SECTION II.
An objection against the method qf knowing laid down in the for
mer section, answered^ That men generally, notwithstanding
their apostasy, are furnished with the radical principles of true
knowledge. Men want not so much means qf knowing what they
ought to do, as wills to do what they know. Practical know
ledge differs from all other knowledge, and excels it.
AND thus I should again leave this argument,
but that perhaps we may all this while have seem
ed to undermine what we intend to build up. For
jf divine truth spring up only from the root of true
goodness ; how shall we ever endeavour to be good,
before we know what if is to be so? or how shall
we convince the gainsaying world of truth, unless
we could also inspire virtue into it ?
To both which we shaU make this reply ; that ,
there are some radical principles of knowledge that
are so deeply sunk into the souls of men, as that
the impression cannot easily be obliterated, though
it may be so much darkened. Sensual baseness
doth not so grossly suUy and bemire the souls of
aU wicked men at first, as to make them with
Diagoras to deny the Deity, or with Protagoras to
doubt of, or with Diodorus to question the immor
tality of rational souls. Neither are the common
principles of virtue so pulled up by the roots in all,
as to make them so dubious in stating the bounds
of virtue and vice as Epicurus was, though he could
not but sometimes take notice of them. Neither is
the retentive power of truth so weak and loose in all
sceptics, as it was in him, who being well scourged
in the streets till the blood ran about him, question-

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 17
ed when he came home, whetlier 'he had been beat
en or not. Arrianus hath well observed, that the
common notions of God and virtue impressed upon
the souls of men, are more clear and perspicuous
than any else ; and that if they have not more cer
tainty, yet have they more evidence, and display
themselves with less difficulty to our reflective
faculty than any geometrical demonstrations : and
these are both available to prescribe out ways of
virtue to men's own souls, and to force an acknow
ledgment of truth from those that oppose, when
they are well guided by a skilful hand. Truth
needs not at any time fly from reason, there being
an eternal amity between them. They are only
some private dogmas, that may well be suspected
as spurious and adulterate, that dare not abide the
trial thereof. And this reason is not every where
so extinguished, as that we may not by that enter
into the souls of men. What the magnetical virtue
is in these earthly bodies, that reason is in men's
minds, which when it is put forth, draws them one
to another. Besides in wicked men there are some
times distastes of vice, and flashes of love to virtue ;
which are the motions which spring from a true
inteUect, and the faint strugglings of a higher life
within them, which they crucify again by their
wicked sensuality. As truth doth not always act
in good men, so neither doth sense always act in
wicked men: they may sometimes have their lucida
intervalla, their sober fits ; and a divine spirit blow
ing and breathing upon them, may then blow up
some live sparks of true understanding within them ;
though, they may soon endeavour to quench them

18 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
again, and to rake them up in the ashes of their
own earthly thoughts.
All this, and more that might be said upon this
argument, may serve to point out the way of virtue.
We want not so much means of knowing what we

ought to do, alT ^fffls^to 39jthat which we may
know But yet all that knowledge which is sepa-
ratecTfrom an inward acquaintance with virtue and
goodness, is of a far different nature from that
which ariseth out of a true living sense of them,
which is the best discerner thereof, and by which
alone we know the true perfection, sweetness,
energy, and loveliness of them, and all that which
is outs dtjtov, outs ygaTToV, that which can no more
be known by a naked demonstration, than colours
can be perceived of a blind man by any definition
or description which he can hear of them.
And, further, the clearest and most distinct no
tions of truth that shine in the souls ofthe common
sort of men, may be extremely clouded, if they be
not accompanied with that answerable practice
that might preserve their integrity : these tender
plants may soon be spoiled by the continual drop
pings of our corrupt affections upon them ; they
are but of a weak and feminine nature, and so may
be sooner deceived by that wily serpent of sensu
ality that harbours within us.
While the soul is Khrigqg tou aupuTog, ' full of the
body,' while we suffer those notions and common
principles of religion to lie asleep within us ; that
ymtHovgyog huvupig, ' the power of an animal life,'
will be apt to incorporate and mingle itself with
them ; and that reason that is within us, as Ploti
nus hath well expressed it, becomes more and more

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 19
irufiQvrog xaxoug raiig liriyivoftiimtg M&ig, it will be in
fected with those evU opinions that arise from our
corporeal life. The more deeply our souls dive
into our bodies, the more will reason and sensual- 1
ity run one into another, and make up a most]
dilute, unsavoury, and muddy kind of knowledge.!
We must therefore endeavour more and more to
withdraw ourselves from these bodily things, to set
our- souls as free as may be from its miserable sla
very to this base flesh : we must shut the eyes of
sense, and open that brighter eye of our under
standings, that other eye of the soul, as the phUo-
sopher caUs our inteUectual faculty, r\v sy^i ph irag,,
yguvTM hs oktyoi, 'which indeed all have, but fewj
make use of it.' • This is the way to see clearly;'
the light of the divine world will then begin to!
faU upon us, and those sacred sKKa^sig, those j
pure coruscations of immortal and ever-Hving truths
wiU shine into us, and in God's own light shall we
behold him. The fruit of this knowledge wUl be
sweet to our taste, and pleasant to our palates,
" sweeter than the honey or the honey-comb." *
The priests of Mercury, as Plutarch tells us, in the
eating of their holy things, were wont to cry out
ykvuu n ukifasia, ' sweet is truth.' But how sweet
and delicious "that truth is which holy and heaven-
born souls feed upon in their mysterious converse
with the Deity, who can tell but they that taste it ?
When reason once is raised by the mighty force of
the divine Spirit into a converse with God, it is
turned into sense : that which before was only faith \
weU built upon sure principles, (for such our science 1
• Psal. xix. 10.

20 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
may be) now becomes vision. We shaU -then con
verse with GoSTtu~vu, whereas before we conversed
with him only rj? havoia with our discursive faculty,
as the Platonists were wont to distinguish. Before
we laid hold on him only IJbyu kmobuxTixu, with a
struggling, agonistical, and contentious reason,
hotly combating, with difficulties and sharp contests
of diverse opinions, and labouring in. itself, in its
deductions of one thing from another; we shall
then fasten our minds upon him \byu KTo<pamxa,
with such a 'serene understanding,' yaAjj'w? iwg«,
such an intellectual calmness and serenity as wfll
present us with a blissful, steady, and invariable
sight of him.

SECTION III.

Men may be considered in a fourfold capacity, in order to the per
ception of divine things. That the best and most excellent know
ledge qf divine things belongs only to the true and sober Christian;
and that it is but in its infancy while he is in this earthly body.
-cxND now if you please, setting aside the Epicu
rean herd of brutish men, who have drowned all
their own sober reason in the deepest Lethe of sen-
suahty, we shall divide the rest, of men into these
four ranks, according to that method which Sim
plicius upon Epictetus hath already laid out to us,
with respect to a fourfold kind of knowledge,
which we have aU this while glanced at.
The first whereof is, ciifoguirog au^s<pwuAvog rJj yi-
v'sasi, or, if you wiU, ai&gawoj o nohug, ? That complex
and multifarious man. that is made up of soul and

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 21
¦ body,' as it were by a just equality and arithmeti
cal proportion of parts and powers in each of them.
The knowledge of these men I should call a//,uSgoV
hb&v in Plutarch's phrase ; ' a knowledge wherein
sense and reason are so twisted up together,' that
it cannot easUy be unraveUed, and laid out into its
first principles. Their highest reason is o^oSolfo roug
ai&fosai cpmplying with their senses, and both con
spire together in vulgar opinion.. To these that
motto which the Stoics, have made for them may
very . weU agree, fiiog vTok^'Sr their life being
steered by nothing else but opinion and imagina?
tion. Their higher notions of God and reHgion
are so entangled with the birdhme of fleshly pas
sions and mundane vanity, that they cannot rise up
above, the surface of this dark earth, or easUy en
tertain any but earthly conceptions of heavenly
things. Such souls as are here lodged, as Plato
speaks, are bTitfoofiugsig 'JheavyJbehind,' and are con
tinually pressing down to this world's centre: and
though, like the spider, they may appear sometime
moving up and down aloft in the air, yet they do
but sit in the loom, and move in. that web of their
own gross, fancies, which they fasten and pin to
some earthly thing or other.
The second is ¦ afogftiztog xutk -rj5» Xoyixtjv Zprp ovaia-
l4>svog, the man that looks at himself as being what
he is rather by his soul than by his body; that
thinks not .fit to view .his own face in any other
glass ., but that., of reason and understanding ; that
reckons upon his soul as that which was made to
rule, his body as that which was born to obey, and
like a handmaid perpetuaUy to wait upon his higher
and nobler part. And in such a one the communes

22 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
notitixB, or common principles of virtue and good
ness, are more clear and steady. To such a one
we may aUow TgamTigav xai l^avsaTsgav hb\av, ' more
clear and distinct opinions,' as being already h xad-
agffg/, in a method or course of purgation, or at least
fit to be initiated into the mysteria minora, the less
er mysteries of religion. For though these innate
notions of truth may be but poor, empty, and hun
gry things of themselves, before they be fed and
fiUed with the practice of true virtue ; yet they are
capable of being impregnated, and exalted with the
rules and precepts of it. And therefore the Stoics
supposed on toioutu wgoayixovsiv at qSixcci xai iro~hmxai
agsTa), that the doctrine of poHtieal and moral vir
tues was fit to be delivered to such as these ; and
though they may not be so well prepared for divine
virtue, (which is of a higher emanation) yet they
are not immature for human, as having the seeds
of it already within themselves, which being water
ed by answerable practice, may sprout up within
them. The third is uvfyuvog jjdr) xtzo£>a%p£vog, he whose
soul is already purged by this lower sort of virtue,
and so is continuaUy flying off from the body and
bodily passion, and returning into himself. Such
in St. Peter's language are those " who have es
caped the poUutions which are in the world through
lust." * To these we may attribute a vb$ri imar^ij,
a lower degree of science, their inward sense of vir
tue and moral goodness being far transcendent to aU
mere speculative opinions of it. But if this know
ledge settle here, it may be quickly apt to corrupt.
*2Peterii. 20.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 23
Many of our most refined moralists may be, in a
worse sense than Plotinus means, irkrj^'iVTsg rJJ sav-
tuv Quest, ' full with their -own pregnancy ;' their
souls may too much heave and swell with the sense
of their own virtue and knowledge : there may be
an ill ferment of self-love lying at the bottom,
which may puff it up the more with pride, arro
gance, and self-conceit. These forces with which
the divine bounty suppHes us to keep a stronger
guard against the evil spirit, may be abused by our
own rebelHous pride, enticing them from their alle
giance to God, to strengthen itself in our souls, and
fortify them against heaven : Hke that supercihous
Stoic, who, when he thought his mind well armed
and appointed with wisdom and virtue, cried out,
Sapiens contendet cum ipso Jove de felicitate. They
may make an airy heaven of these, and waU it about
with their own self-flattery, and then sit in it as
gods, as Cosroes the Persian king was sometimes
laughed at for enshrining himself in a temple of his
own. And therefore if this knowledge be not at
tended with humility and a deep sense of self-pen
ury and self-emptiness, we may easily fall short of
that true knowledge of God, after which we seem
to aspire. We may carry such an image and spe
cies of ourselves constantly before 'us*, as will make
us lose the clear sight of the Divinity, and be too
apt to rest in a mere ' logical life,' an expression
of Simplicius, without any true participation of the
divine life, if we do not (as many do, if not all, who
rise no higher) relapse and slide back by vain-glory,
popularity, or such like vices, into some mundane
and external vanity or other.
The fourth is av^uxog SsaigqTixbg, the true meta-

24 THE TRUE WAY OR METHOD
physical and contemplative man, dg ttjv sclutov Xoyt-
xriv Zfi)rjv u^rsgrgs^a/c, oKnog shai fiovkSTat tw xgitTTOvm,
who running and shooting up above his own logi
cal or self-rational life, pierceth into the highest
life : such a one, who by universal love and holy
affection abstracting himself from himself) endea
vours the nearest union with the divine essence
that may be, x'svtqov xsvTgw cuvaipag, as Plotinus
speaks; knitting his own centre, if he have' any,
unto the centre of divine being. To such a one
the Platonists are wont to attribute Situv wrutrfi(tai*
* a true divine wisdom,' powerfully displaying itself
h vosga Zpuri in an ' intellectual life,' as they phrase
it. Such a knowledge they say is always pregnant
with divine virtue, which ariseth out of a happy
union of souls with God, and is nothing else but a
living imitation of a godlike perfection drawn out
by a strong fervent love of it. This divine know
ledge xaXoug zut s^asToug toisi, &c. as Plotinus speaks,
makes us amorous of divine beauty, beautiful and
lovely; and this divine love and purity reciprocally
exalts divine knowledge ; both of them growing up
together, like that "Egas and ' Avri§a>s that Pausanias
sometimes speaks of. Though, by the Platonists*
leave, such a life and knowledge as this is, peculi
arly belongs to the true and sober Christian, who
lives in him who is life itself, and is enlightened by
him who is the truth itself, and is made partaker of
the divine unction, " and knoweth all things," as
St. John speaks.* TJnj_Hfe_is jiptihing else but
Gpd^s_own__^athjwitiiin him, and arTinfanMJhrist
(OJSSZi!!? *^e expression) formed in his^ouU
* 1 John iii. 20.

OF ATTAINING DIVINE KNOWLEDGE. 25
who is in a sense kxauyaa^a Trig dbltjg, ' the shining
forth of the Father's glory.' But yet we must not
mistake ; this knowledge is but here in its infancy ;
there is a higher knowledge, or a higher degree of
this knowledge, that doth not, that cannot, descend
upon us in these earthly habitations. We cannot
here see sn^psDja trvvm in speculo lucido ; here we
can see but in a glass, and that darkly too. * Our
own imaginative powers, which are perpetually at
tending the highest acts of our souls, will be breath
ing a gross dew upon the pure glass of our under
standings, and so sully and besmear it, that we
cannot see the image of the Divinity sincerely in it.
But yet this knowledge being a true heavenly fire
kindled from God's own altar, begets an undaunt
ed courage in the souls of good men, and enables
them to cast a holy scorn upon the poor petty trash
of this life, in comparison with divine things, and
to pity those poor brutish Epicureans that have no
thing but the mere husks of fleshly pleasure to feed
themselves with. This sight of God makes pious
souls breathe after that blessed time when mortality
shall be swallowed up of life, when they shall no
more behold the Divinity through the dark medi
ums that eclipse the blessed sight of it.
• 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

D

SHORT DISCOURSE

SUPERSTITION.

'Akpotutz; dfiaS-iccg uB-torns xui fttfffiaif&ovia, av Ix-roz f/imv fftfovb&ffriov.
Clem. Alex, in Admon. ad Grjec.
(H rZv T^afffyioofi-Utov ToXvriXua, *rif&n us 3«ov eb ymrett, u fth fiiro, tov IvSiov
(pgovriftetros vrgoffayotTO, }ajpcc yscg xx) SutitfaXieti dtpgovm, -yrupog rj>o<pn* to t\ 'ivStov
ipgontfta dictpxais nkpatrftivov ffuvdvrrtt 5ef* %wgitv yk^ dvxyxti ro o/zotw T^og ro
Of&OtOV, HlEROCLES IN PyTHAG.

Hic verus est cultus, in quo mens colentis sezpsam Deo immaculatam victimam
sistit, Lactantius de Vero Cultu,
Nihil Sancta et singularis ilia Majestas aliud ab homine desiderat, quam solam
innocentiam : quam stquis abtulerit Deo, satis pie, satis religiose UtaviL Iii ID.

SHORT DISCOURSE

SUPERSTITION.

The true notion qf superstition well expressed by Aeigidtn/fiovla, i. e.
' an over-timorous and dreadful apprehension qf the Deity.'—
A false opinion ofthe Deity the true cause and rise qf supersti
tion  Superstition is most incident to such as converse not with
the goodness qf God, or are conscious to themselves qf their own
unlikeness to him. — Right apprehensions qf God beget in man a
nobleness and freedom qfsoul. — Superstition, though it looks up
on God as an angry Deity, yet it counts him easily pleased with
flattering worship. — Apprehensions qf a Deity and guilt meeting
together are apt to excite fear. — Hypocrites, to spare their sins,
seek out ways to compound with God. — Servile and superstitious
fear is increased by ignorance qf tke certain causes of terrible
effects in nature, fyc. as also by frightful apparitions qf ghosts
and spectres. — A further consideration qf superstition, as a com
position of fear and flattery. — A f idler definition qf superstition,
according to the sense ofthe ancients. — Superstition doth not al
ways appear in the same form, but passes from one form to an
other, and sometimes shrouds itself under forms seemingly spiri
tual and more refined.
.HAVING now done with what we propounded
as a preface to our following discourses, we should
now come to treat of the main heads and principles
of religion. But before we do that, perhaps it may
not be amiss to inquire into some of those anti-
deities that are set up against it, the chief whereof

30 OF SUPERSTITION.
are Atheism and Superstition ; which indeed may
seem to comprehend in them all kind of apostacy
and prevarication from religion. We shall not be
over curious to pry into such foul arid rotten car
casses as these are, too narrowly, or to make any
subtile anatomy of them ; but rather inquire a Httle
into the original and immediate causes of them ;
because it may be, they may be nearer of kin than
we ordinarily are aware of, while we see their com
plexions to be so vastly different the one from the
other. And first of all for Superstition, (to lay aside
our vulgar notion of it, which much mistakes it) it
is the same with that temper of mind which the
Greeks call htsi^ai(»6na, for so Tully frequently
translates that word, though not so fitly and em
phatically as he hath done some others : it imports
' an over-timorous and dreadful apprehension of the
Deity;' and thereTore"with ffesychius hiaiSuifju^iu
an3 (po|9<ftg'/« are all one, and fomhaifhw is by him
expounded 6 s\lukokafqrig, 6 suasffig, xai Itikhg ieuqa
^ssotg, ' an idolater, and also one that is very prompt
to * worship the gods, but withal fearful of them.'
And therefore the true cause and rise of supersti
tion is indeed nothing else but ajfalse opinion of
the Deity, that renders him dreadful and terrible,
as being rigorous and imperious ; that which repre
sents him as austere and apt to be angry, but yet
impotent, and easy to be appeased again by some
flattering devotions, especially if performed with
sanctimonious shows, and a solemn sadness of mind.
* For so that word su«/3«s must here signify; if indeed it be not corrupted,
and to be read eix«/Jfo, a word which some other lexicographers use in this
case.

OF SUPERSTITION. 31
And I wish that that picture of God which some
Christians have drawn of him, wherein sourness
and arbitrariness appear so much, doth not too
much resemble it. According to this sense Plu
tarch hath weU defined it in his book crgg* faundutporiug
in this manner, hb%x.» l^va^tj xai h'sovg vohitixw vitb-
h^iv ovtruv exTWjrswovvrog xai euvrgiftovTog tov clvtyanrov,
oiopevov t shai ^soiig, shat ds XuTt;ooug xai (3\afagov$,
' a strong passionate opinion, and such a supposi
tion as is productive of a fear debasing and terrify
ing a man with the representation of the gods as
grievous and hurtful to mankind.'
Such men as these converse not. with the good
ness of God, and therefore they are apt to attribute
their impotent passions and peevishness of spirit to
him. Or it may be because some secret advertise
ments of their consciences teU them how unlike
they themselves are to God, and how they have
provoked him; they are apt to be as much dis
pleased with him as too troublesome to them, as
they think he is displeased with them. They are
apt to account this divine supremacy as but a piece
OI* t33225y ^at, by its sovgie^gnjwUl^ makes too
great encroachments upon their liberties, and that
which wul eat up aU their right and property ; and
therefore are slavishly afraid of him, rnv tuv SsSiv
aoyflv ag Tvgamlu. QoOovpsvoi axv^ganrijv xai aTra^aiTYjTOV,
' fearing heaven's monarchy as a severe and churl
ish tyranny, from which they cannot absolve them
selves,' as the same author speaks : and therefore
he thus discloseth the private whisperings of their
minds, ufiov Ttv\g avoiyonai icvkat fiuSsiai, xai iroTapoi
wugoV of/iou xai aTuyog anohowysg avaitSTamqvTai, &c.
' the broad gates of heU are opened, the rivers of

\r

32 OF SUPERSTITION.
fire and Stygian inundations run down as a swelling
flood, there is thick darkness crowded together,.
dreadful and ghastly sights of ghosts screeching and
howling, judges and tormentors, deep gulfs and
abysses fuU of infinite miseries.' Thus he. The pro
phet Isaiah gives us this epitome of their thoughts,
" The sinners in Zion are afraid, tearfulness hath
surprised the hypocrites : who shall dwell with the
devouring fire? who shaU dwell with everlasting
burnings ?" * Though I should not dislike these
dreadful and astonishing thoughts of future torment,
which I doubt even good men may have cause to
press home upon their own spirits, whUe they find
ingenuity less active, the more to restrain sin ; yet
I think it little commends God, and as little bene
fits us, to fetch all this horror and astonishment
from the contemplations of a Deity, which should
always be the most serene and lovely : our appre
hensions of the Deity should be such as might en-
| noble our spirits, and not debase them. A right
knowledge of God would beget a freedom and lib
erty of soul within us, and not servility ; agsr?? yag
shitig 6 &sbg sgtiv, ou hv'ksiag irgbtyatsig, as Plutarch
hath well observed ; our thoughts of a Deity should
breed in us hopes of virtue, and not gender to a
spirit of bondage.
But that we may pass on. Because this unnatural
resemblance of God as ^ILJ^IEv_B§i£y ™ impure
minds, should it blaze tooTuHously, Hke the basi
lisk would'kUl with its looks ; therefore these paint
ers use their best arts a little to sweeten it, and
render it less unpleasing. And those that fancy
* Isaiah xxxiii. 14.

OF SUPERSTITION. 83
God to be most hasty and apt to. be displeased, yet
are ready also to imagine him so impotentlyvnu- 1
tablg^. that his favour may be won again with their \
uncouth devotions, that he wiU be taken with their
formal praises, and being thirsty after glory and
praise and solemn addresses, may, by their pompous
furnishing out all these for him, be won to a good
liking of them : and thus they represent him to
themselves * ug xo\axsubpsvov, vfaoSat, xai ayavaxTsh
ayjihouyMvov. And therefore superstition will always
abound in these things whereby this deity of their
own, made after the simUitude of men, may be
most gratified, slavishly crouching to it. We will
take a view of it in the words of Plutarch, though
what refers to the Jews, if it respects more their
rites than their manners, may seem to contain too
hasty a censure of them. Superstition brings in
irrikuoug, xara€og£og»<rs/j, ffa&Qart<Tfiovg, o'i-Afisig sxi ¦jrgoa-
airov, al&ygag ir^oxa^iesig, aKKoxbrovg T^oaxuv^esig, ' wal-
lowings in the dust, tumblings in the mire, observa
tions of sabbaths, prosternations, uncouth gestures,
and strange rites of worship.' Superstition is very
apt to think that heaven may be bribed with such
false-hearted devotions ; as Porphyry hath well ex
plained it by this, that it is vxokqypig tov foxaZfiv
huvaafoai to Ssiov, t ' an apprehension that a man
may corrupt and bribe the Deity :' which (as he
there observes) was the cause of all those bloody
sacrifices, and of some inhuman ones among the
heathen, men imagining ha tZv Svawv \\avsi<£iai rnv
apagriav like him in the prophet, that thought, by
* As Lucian in his De Sacrificiis speaks too truly, though it may be too
profanely. f Lib. 2. *!{) a-rax>>s. E

34 OF SUPERSTITION.
the fruit of his body and the firstlings of his flock
to expiate the sin of his soul. *
But it maybe we may seem all this while to have
made too tragical a description of superstition ; and
indeed our author, whom we have all this while had
recourse to, seems to have set it forth, as anciently
painters were wont to do those pieces in which they
would demonstrate most their own skiU ; they
would not content themselves with the shape bf
one body only, but borrowed several parts from se
veral bodies as might most fit their design, and fill
up the picture of that they desired chiefly to repre^
sent. Superstition, it may be, looks not so foul and
deformed in every soul that is dyed with it, as he
hath there set it forth, nor doth it every where
spread itself alike : this ira6og that shrouds itself
under the name of religion will variously discover
itself as it is seated in minds of a various temper,
and meets with variety of matter to exercise itself
about. We shall therefore a Httle further inquire into it,
and what the judgments of the soberest men an
ciently were of it ; the rather for that a learned au
thor of our own, seems unwilling to own that no
tion of it which we have hitherto out of Plutarch
and others contended for ; whb, though he hath
freed it from that glbss which the late ages have put
upon it, yet he riiay seem to have too strictly con
fined it to a cowardly worship of the ancient Gen
tile demons, as if superstition and Polytheism were
indeed the same thing, whereas Polytheism or de>-
mon-worship is but one branch of it : which was
* Micah vi. 7.

OF SUPERSTITION. 35
partly observed by the learned Cafaubon in his
notes upon that chapter of Theophrastus icigi hsiatiau
(jbou'tts, where it is described to be hsihia ergo? ro hai-
friviov, which he thus interprets, Theophrastus voce
^m^b»io» et Deos et damones complexus est, et quicquid
divinitatis esse particeps malesana putavit antiquitas.
And in this sense it was truly observed by Petro-
nius Arbiter, Primus in orbe Deos fecit Timor. 
The whole progeny of the ancient demons, at least
in the minds of the vulgar, sprung out of fear, and
were supported by it : though notwithstanding, this
fear, when in a being void of all true sense of divine
goodness, hath not escaped the censure of supersti
tion in Varro's judgment, whose maxim it was, as
. St. Austin tells us, Deum d religioso vereri, d super-
stitioso timeri : which distinction Servius seems to
have made use of in his comment upon Virgil, JE-
neid. vi. where the poet describing the torments of
the wicked in heU, he runs out into an allegorical
exposition of aU, it may be too much in favour of
Lucretius, whom he there magnifies. His words are
these, Ipse etiam Lucretius dicit per eos super quos
jamjam casurus imminet lapis, superstitiosos signifi-
cari, qui inaniter semper verentur, et de diis et cazlo
et locis superioribus male opinantur ; nam religiosi
sunt qui per reverentiam timent.
But that we may the more fully unfold the nature
of this -rdhg, and the effects of it, which are not al
ways of one sort, we shall first premise something
concerning the rise of it.
The common notions of a Deity, strongly rooted

36 OF SUPERSTITION.
in men's souls, and meeting with the apprehensions
of guiltiness, are very apt to excite this servile fear :
and when men love their own filthy lusts, that they
may spare them, they are presently apt to contrive
some other ways of appeasing the Deity and com
pounding with it. Unhallowed minds, that have no
inward foundations of true holiness to fix themselves
upon, are easily shaken and tossed from all inward
peace and tranquillity : and as the thoughts of some
supreme power above them seize upon them, so they
are struck with tlie lightning thereof into inward
affrightments, which are further increased by a vul
gar observation of those strange, stupendous, and
terrifying effects in nature, whereof they can give
no certain reason, as earthquakes, thunderings, and
lightnings, blazing comets, and other meteors of a
Hke nature, which are apt to terrify those especiaUy
who are already unsettled and chased with an in
ward sense of guilt, and, as Seneca speaks, inevita-
bilem metum, ut supra nos aliquid timeremus incutiunt.
Petronius Arbiter hath weU described this business
for us, Primus in orbe deos fecit timor, ardua ccelo
Fulmina cum caderent, discussaque mcenia flammis,
Atque ictus flagraret Athos 
From hence it was that the libri fulgurales of the
Romans, and other such like volumes of supersti
tion, sweUed so much, and that the pulvinaria deo
rum were so often frequented, as will easily appear
to any one a little conversant in Livy, who every
where sets forth this devotion so largely, as if he
himself had been too passionately in love with it.

OF SUPERSTITION. 37
And though as the events in nature began some
times to be found out better by a discovery of their
immediate natural causes, so some particular pieces
of superstitious customs were antiquated and grown
out of date, (as is well observed concerning those
charms and februations anciently in use upon the
appearing of an eclipse, and some others) yet often
affrights and horrors were not so easily abated, whUe
they were unacquainted with the Deity, and with
the other mysterious events in nature, which begot
those furies and unlucky goblins, ahaarogag xai ra\a-
(Jbvaioug haifjuovag, in the weak minds of men. To all
which we may add the frequent spectres and fright
ful apparitions of ghosts and mormos : all which
extorted such a kind of worship from them as was
most correspondent to such causes of it. And those
rites and ceremonies which were begotten by super
stition, were again the unhappy nurses of it ; such
as are well described by Plutarch in his De Defect.
Oracul. 'Eogrow xai dvaiai, #Weg jyjJigat uTopg&dsg, xai
axu^uicai, \v a7g a^o<payiai, he. ' Feasts, and sacri
fices, as likewise observations of unlucky and fatal
days, celebrated with eating of raw things, lacera
tions, fastings, and howlings, and many times filthy
speeches in their sacred rites, and frantic beha
viour.' But as we insinuated before, This root of super
stition diversly branched forth itself, sometimes
into magic and exorcisms, other times into pedan-
tical rites and idle observations of things and times,
as Theophrastus hath largely set them forth in his
tract Ilsg/ Asiai'daipoviag- in others it displayed itself in
inventing as many new deities as there were seve
ral causes from whence their affrights proceeded,

38 OF SUPERSTITION.
and finding out many pgMsrajtAtwJjgra appropriate to
them, as supposing they ought to be worshipped
cum sacro horrore. And hence it is that we hear of
those inhuman and diabolical sacrifices caUed w6%w*-
mdvoiai, frequent among the old heathens, as among
many others Porphyry in his De Abstinentia hath
abundantly related, and of those dead men's bones
which our ecclesiastical writers tell us were found
in their temples at the demolishing of them. Somer-
times it would express itself in a prodigal way of
sacrificing, for which Ammianus Marcellinus, a hear
then writer, but yet one who seems to have been
weU pleased with the simplicity and integrity of
Christian religion, taxeth Julian the emperor for su
perstition. Julianus, superstitiosus magis quam kgir
timus sacrorum observator, innumeras sine parsimo-
nia pecudes mactans, ut cestimaretur, si reverlisset de
Parthis, bovesjam defuturos : like that Marcus Cse
sar, of whom he relates this common proverb, ol
fibsg oi "Ksuxoi Magxai tu Kos/cag/, av au vixyiayg, ^Cig
avreAbf/jsda. Besides many other ways might be
named, wherein superstition might occasionally
show itself.
All which may best be understood, if we consider
it a little in that composition of fear and flattery
which before we intimated : and indeed flattery is
most incident to base and slavish minds ; and where
the fear and jealousy of a Deity disquiet a wanton
dalliance with sin, and disturb the filthy pleasure
of vice, there this fawning and crouching disposi
tion will find out devices to quiet an angry con
science within, and an offended God without,
though as men grow more expert in this cunning,
these fears may in some degree abate, This the

OF SUPERSTITION. 39
ancient philosophy hath well taken notice oi', and
therefore well defined hsiaibaipovia by xoXatisia, and
useth these terms promiscuously. Thus we find
Max. Tyrius in his Dissert. IV. concerning the dif
ference between a friend and a flatterer, o ph euas-
Qrjg, ptkog §s£, 6 be buoilaifiw, xb\a% Szou' xai \t,axagiog
6 evtrs'oqg, o tpiKog «teov, hvarw^g fts 6 BeitriBaifjuav. 6 f/th
^ug&uV Trj agsrSjf, ir^bvettti roig Ssoig avsu fi'eovg' 6 de raiceiv-
og ha (tAO^g/flse, pera «Ar\.flu Beovg, dusekxig, xui fehalg
rod? hsoug <sWsg rovg rvgdvvovg. The sense whereof
is this, ' the pious man is God's friend, the super
stitious is a flatterer of God : and indeed most hap
py and blessed is the condition of the pious man,
God's friend ; but right miserable and sad is the
state ofthe superstitious. The pious man, embold
ened by a giood conscience, and encouraged by the
sense of his integrity, comes to God without fear
and dread : but the superstitious being sunk and
depressed through the sense of his own wickedness,
comes not without much fear, being void of all
hope and confidence, and dreading the gods as so
many tyrants*' Thus Plato also sets forth that su
perstitious temper, though he mentions it not un
der that name, but we may know it by a property
he gives of it, viz. ' to coUogue with heaven/
Lib. X. De Legibus ; where he distinguisheth of
three kinds of tempers in reference to the Deity,
which he there caUs raSf], which are, total atheism,
Which he says never abides with any man till his
old age; and partial atheism, whieh is a negation
of providence ; and a third, which is a persuasion*
concerning the gods on euitagapu^sriroi slai ^upao-i xai
euyjiig, ' that they are eastty won by sacrifices and
prayers,' which he after explains thus, on itagairn-

40 OF SUPERSTITION.
rot sia i roiaiv ahxouaiv, Bs-^b^svoi huga, he. ' that with
gifts unjust men may find acceptance with them.'
And this discourse of Plato's upon these three kinds
of irreligious ira&ri Simplicius seems to have respect
to in hiscommentuponEpictetus, cap. xxxviii. which
treats about right opinions in religion ; and there
having pursued the two former of them, he thus
states the latter, which he calls t&tsiag "kdyov as well
as the other two, as a conceit Ssoug Tagargevsehat
haigoig, xai avaSfipafft, xai xsopariou haBotretriv, quod mu-
neribus et donarits et stipis distributione d sentential
deducuntur : such men making account by their
devotions to draw the Deity to themselves, and
winning the favour of heaven, to procure such an
indulgence to their lusts as no sober man on earth
would give them ; they in the mean while not con
sidering dig (MTapsKiiai, xai ixsritat, xai su%ai, xai ra
roiuura, avakoyouiri r£ xa~ku, ' that repentance, sup
plications, and prayers, &c. ought to draw us nearer
to God, not God nearer to us ; as in a ship, by fast
ening^ cable to a firm rock, we intend not to draw
the rock to the ship, but the ship to the rock.'
Which last passage of his is therefore the more wor
thy to be taken notice of, as holding out so large
an extent that this irreligious temper is of, and of
how subtile a nature. This fond and gross dealing
with the Deity was that which made the scoffing
Lucian so much sport, who in his treatise De Sa-
crifiens teUs a number of stories how the demons
loved to be feasted, and where and how they were
entertained, with such devotions which are rather
used magically as charms and spells, for such as use
them, to defend themselves against those evils

OF SUPERSTITION. 41
which their own fears are apt perpetually to muster
up, and to endeavour by bribery to purchase the
favour and indulgence of heaven, as Juvenal speaks
of the superstitious Egyptian, Satyr. 6.
Illius lacrym» mentitaque munera praestant
Ut veniam culpa; non abnuat, ansere magno
Scilicet et tenui popano corruptus Osiris.
Though all this whue I would not be understood j
to condemn too severely aU senile fear of God, if '
it tend to make men avoid true wickedness, but
that which settles upon these lees of formality. J
To conclude, Were I to define superstition more
generally according to the ancient sense of it, I
would call it ' such an apprehension of God in the '
thoughts of men, as renders him grievous and bur
densome to them, and so destroys all free and
cheerful converse with him ; begetting in the stead
thereof, a forced and jejune devotion, void of in
ward life and love.' It is that which discovers it
self pedantically in the worship of the Deity, in
any thing that makes up but only the body or out
ward vesture of religion ; though there it may make
a mighty bluster : and because it comprehends not
the true divine good that ariseth to the souls of
men from an internal frame of reHgion, it is there
fore apt to think that all its insipid devotions are
as so many presents offered to the Deity and grati
fications of him. How variously superstition can
discover and manifest itself, we have intimated be
fore : to which I shaU only add this, that we are
not so well rid of superstition, as some imagine,
when they have expelled it out of their churches,

42 OF SUPERSTITION.
expunged it out of their books and writings, or cast
it out of their tongues, by making innovations in
names ; wherein they sometimes imitate those old
Caunii that Herodotus speaks of, who, that they
might banish aU the foreign gods that had stolen
in among them, took their procession through aU
their country, beating and scourging the air along
as they went ; no, for all this, superstition may en
ter into our chambers, and creep into our closets,
it may twine about our secret devotions, and actu
ate our forms of belief and orthodox opinions, when
it hath no place else to shroud itself, or hide its
head in ; we may think to flatter the Deity by these,
and to bribe it with them, when we are grown
weary of more pompous solemnities : nay, it may
mix itself with a seeming faith in Christ ; as I doubt
it doth now in too many, who, laying aside all sober
and serious care of true piety, think it sufficient to
offer up the active and passive righteousness of their
Saviour, to a severe and rigid justice, to make ex
piation for those sins they can be wiUing to allow
themselves in.

SHORT DISCOURSE

ATHEISM.

They say unto God, Depart from us ; for we desire not tke knowledge qf thy
ways. What is the almighty that we should serve him ? and what profit should we
have, if we pray vnto him ? Job xxi. 14, 15.
"Emm octoffipakivrts TavreLz'a.o'iv tie %Uffiia,tfJt,ovi(tv cjXhtSov ot 2c <ptuyov<rts wffWt<>
ike; tmv otifftoatftaviaVf 'ikaS-w avB-is ajffTtg us xgtlj&vov lft,#£ffGvrt$ <r*jv aSisrttrot*
Plutarch. Tligi"l<rihos xm *Qei£i$as*
Eviat tptvyavrtg T«y %£iff,i$ai/x,oviavs Ifiiriirroofn us K^iornra r^et^iiuv *«) aurt-
rwrd9j ttTtgirfioJifaitirts iv /ittrat xti/titt}* <rwv li/ffiflsioiu Plutarch* n^J Auriiaiftoyiw

Jf. ?

SHORT DISCOURSE

OF

ATHEISM,

That there is a near affinity between atheism and superstition.—
That superstition doth not only prepare the way for atheism, but
promotes and strengthens it.— That epicurism is but atheism un-
' der a mask— A confutation qf Epicurus' master-notion, together
with some other pretences and dogmas qf his sect. — The true
knowledge qf nature is advantageous to religion.— That super
stition is more tolerable than atheism. — That atheism is both ig
noble and uncomfortable. — What low and unworthy notions the
[ Epicureans had concerning man's happiness : and what trouble
they were put to, how to define, and where to place true happi
ness.— A true belief qf a Deity supports the soul with a present
tranquillity and future hopes. — Were it not for a Deity, the
world would be unhabitable.
W E have now done with what we intended con
cerning superstition, and shall a little consider and
search into the pedigree pf Atheism, which indeed
hath so much affinity with superstition, that it may
seem to have the same father with it. Ou* oierat
0esg elvai 6 ufeog, 6 de SeiffiSuifiuv s (Zh'htui. * Supersti
tion could be weU content there were no God to
trouble or disquiet it, and atheism thinks there is
none.' And as superstition is engendered by a
base opinion of the Deity as cruel and tyrannical,
though it be afterwards brooded and hatched by a

46 OF ATHEISM.
slavish fear and abject thoughts, so also is atheism :
and that sour and ghastly apprehension of God,
when it meets with more stout and surly natures, is
apt to enrage them, and cankering them with ma
lice against the Deity they so little brook, provokes
them to fight against it and undermine the notion
of it ; as this plastic nature which intends to form
living creatures, when it meets With stubborn and
unruly matter, is fain to yield to it, and to produce
that which answers not her own idea ; whence the
signatures and impressions of nature sometimes vary
so much from that seal that nature would have
stamped upon them. "O heunhaipw r5J wgoa/gjjffg*
cLSeog m± aaQsvsarsgbg hsnv rj tou ho^uZsm irspdsuv o fiouherat.
If these melancholic opinions and disquieting fears
of the Deity mould not the minds of men into de
votion, as finding them too churlish and untamea-
ble to receive any such impressions ; they are then
apt to exasperate men against it, and stir them up
to contend with that Being which they cannot bear,
and to destroy that which would deprive them of
their own liberty. These unreasonable fears of a
Deity wiU always be moving into flattery or wrath.
J Atheism could never have so easUy crept into the
j world, had not superstition made way and opened
1 a back-door for it ; it could not so easUy have ba-
I nished the belief of a Deity, had not that first ac-
/ cused and condemned it as destructive to the peace
I of mankind ; and therefore it hath always justified
| and defended itself by superstition : as Plutarch
hath weU expressed it, jj Be hemhatpoviu if uhbrm
xai yev'etfoat •xrapffxsv a^v, xai ysvopivri hilaaiv kto'ko-
yi'av, oux bihj^ yh ouh\ xuhfy, tfg6<pdffeog he nvog oix
a\hoi$pv oSaav, 'Superstition afforded the principle

OF ATHEISM. 47
of generation to atheism, and afterwards furnished
it with an apology, which, though it be neither true
nor lovely, yet wants it not a specious pretence.'
And therefore Simplicius (as we heard before) calls
the notion of superstition ufi'siug Kbyov, as having an
UI savour of atheism in it, seeing (as he gives an ac
count of it) it disrobes the Deity of true majesty
and perfection, and represents it as weak and infirm,
clothed with such fond, feeble, and impotent pas
sions, as men themselves are. And Dionysius Lon-
ginus, that noble rhetorician, fears not to chaUenge
Homer as atheistical for his unsavoury language of
the gods, which indeed was only the offspring of his
superstition. If the superstitious man thinks that
God is altogether like himself, which indeed is a cha
racter most proper to such, the atheist will soon say
in his heart, " there is no God ;" and wiU judge it,
not without some appearance of reason, to be bet
ter there were none ; as Plutarch hath discoursed
it, oux apsivov %v Yakaraig exeivoig xai ^xu^aig rovagu-
itav |Ui;Jrg evvoiav 'i%siv 6suv, ^rs <pavruo~iav, ^rs forogiav,
it; Seovg eivat vof/tifyiv yjiigovrag avS^uxtuv o<parro(/jsva>v a'l-
paai, xai rsKeiordrriv ^uaiav xai tsgougyiav raurtjv vopji-
Zpvrug ; ' Were it not better for the Gauls and Scy
thians, not to have had any notion, fancy, or history
of the gods, than to think them such as delighted
in the blood of men offered up in sacrifices upon
their altars, as reckoning this the most perfect kind
of sacrifice and consummate devotion ?' For thus
his words are to be translated in reference to those
ancient Gauls and Scythians, whom almost aU his
tories testify to have been avQgayirodurar which hor
rid and monstrous superstition was anciently very

48 OF ATHEISM.
frequent among the heathen, and was sharply tax
ed by Empedocles of old,
Mogpjjv d' aXha.Za.iru. tuty)? p/Xov Vibv dzigag
2pa£«, litity/ftiung jiiya, vqirios.
This made Lucretius cry out with so much indig
nation, when he took notice of Agamemnon's ^dia
bolical devotion in sacrificing his daughter Iphigenia
to make expiation at his Trojan expedition, Tantum
religio potuit suadere mahrum. And indeed what
sober man could brook such an esteem of himself
as this blind superstition, which overspread the hea
then world, and (I doubt) is not sufficiently rooted
out of the Christian, fastened upon God himseU'?
which made Plutarch so much in defiance of it cry
out, as willing almost to be an atheist as to enter
tain the vulgar superstition, • As for me, (saith he,)
I had rather men should say that there is no such
man, nor ever was, as Plutarch, than to say that
he is or was avQgwitog aQ'ehaiog, luperd&o'kog, sti^egsjj
srgoj ogyjjv, eici ro7g rvyfluai rifjuu^rixbg, ' an inconstant,
fickle man, apt to be angry, and for every trifle re
vengeful,' &c. as he goes on farther to express this
blasphemy of superstition.
But it may not be amiss, to learn from Atheists
themselves what was the impulsive cause that mov
ed them to banish away all thoughts and sober fear
of a Deity, what was the principle upon which this
black opinion was buUt, and by which it was sus
tained. And this we may have from the confes
sions of the Epicureans, who though they seemed
to acknowledge a Deity, yet I doubt not but those
that search into their writings will soon embrace

OF ATHEISM. 49
TuUy's censure of them, Verbis quidem ponunt, re-
ipsa tollunt deos. Indeed it was not safe for Epi
curus (though he had a good mind to let the world
know how Httle he cared for their deities) to pro
fess he believed there were none, lest he should have
met with the same entertainment for it that Prota
goras did at Athens, who for declaring himself
doubtful, she ehi, e'ire pn siai dsoi, was himself put to
death, and his books burnt in the streets of Athens,
uto xqguxa sub voce pr&conis, as Diogenes Laertius
and others record : and indeed the world was ne
ver so degenerated any where, as to suffer atheism
to appear in public view.
But that we may return, and take the confessions
a Httle of these secret atheists of the Epicurean
sect : and of these Tully gives us a large account
in his books De Finibus, and other parts of his phi
losophy. Torquatus the Epicurean, in his first
book De Finibus, liberally spends his breath to cool
that too much heat of reHgion, as he thought, in
those that could not apprehend God as any other
than curiosum et plenum negotii Deum, (as one of
that sect doth phrase it, Lib. I. De Nat. Deor.) and
so he states this maxim of the religion that then was
most in use, Superstitione qui est imbutus, quietus
esse nunquam potest. By the way, it may be worth
our observing, how this monstrous progeny of men,
when they would seem to acknowledge a Deity,
could not forget their own beloved image, which
was always before their eyes ; and therefore they
would have it as careless of any thing but its own
pleasure and idle life as they themselves were. So
easy is it for all sects, some way or other, to slide
into a compliance with the Anthropomorphites,

50 OF ATHEISM.
and to bring down the Deity to a conformity to
their own image.
But we shaU rather choose a little to examine
LiicretiuJuin this point, who hath, in the name of
aU his sect, largely told us the rise and original of
this design. After a short introduction to his fol
lowing discourse of nature, he thus begins his pro
logue in commendation of Epicurus' exploit, as he
fancies it.
Humana ante oculos fcedS cum vita jaceret,
Id terris oppressa gravi sub religione,
Quae caput e coeli regionibus ostendebat
Horribili aspectu semper mortalibus instans ;
Primum Graius homo mortales tendere contra
Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra :
Quem nee fama deum, nee f uhuina, nee minitanti
Murmure compressit caelum 
And a little after in a sorry ovation, proudly cries
out, Quare religio pedibus subjecta vicissim
Obteritur ; nos exaequat victoria ccelo.
But to proceed ; our author observing the timorous
minds of men to have been struck with this dread
ful superstition, from the observation of some stu
pendous effects and events (as he pleaseth rather
to caU them) in nature; he therefore, following
herein the steps of his great master Epicurus, un
dertakes so to solve all those knots into which su
perstition was tied up, by unfolding the secrets of
nature, as that men might find themselves loosened
from those scevi domini and crudeles tyranni, as he
caUs the vulgar creeds of the Deity. And so be
gins with a simple confutation ofthe opinion ofthe

OF ATHEISM. 51
creation, which he supposed to contain a sure and
sensible demonstration of a Deity, and to have
sprung up from an admiring ignorance of natural
productions. Quippe ita formido mortales continet omnes,
Quod multa in terris fieri cceloque tuentur,
Quorum operum causas nulla ratione videre
Possunt, ac fieri divino numine rentur; Lib. I.
And towards the end of this first book,
Primum quod magnis doceo de rebus, et arctis
Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo.
But herein all the Epicureans (who are not the true,
but foster-fathers of that natural phUosophy they
brag of, and of which indeed Democritus was the
first author) do miserably blunder themselves. For
though a lawful acquaintance with aU the events
and phenomena that show themselves upon this
mundane stage, would contribute much to free
men's minds from the slavery of dull superstition :
yet would it also breed a sober and amiable belief
of the Deity, as it did in all the Pythagoreans, Pla
tonists, and other sects of phUosophers, if we may
believe themselves ; and an ingenuous knowledge
hereof would be as fertUe with reHgion, as the ig
norance thereof in affrighted and base minds is
with superstition.
For which purpose I shaU need only to touch
upon Epicurus' master-notion, by which he under
takes to solve aU difficulties that might hold our
thoughts in suspense about a hqpiovgybg, or a creator,
which is that plenum (which is all one with corpus)
and inane, that this body (which in his philosophy

51 OF ATHEISM.
is nothing but an infinity of insensible atoms mov
ing to and fro in an empty space) is, together with
that space in which it is, sufficient to beget all those
phenomena which we see in nature. Which, how
ever true it might be, motion being once granted,
yet herein Tully hath well stopped the wheel of this
over-hasty philosophy, Lib. I. De Finibus. Cum
in rerum natura duo sint quxerenda, unum, qua; ma
teria sit ex qua qu&que res efficiatur ; alterum, qua?
vis sit quce quidque efficiat : de materia disserue-
runt Epicurei ; vim et causam efficiendi reliquerunt.
Which is as, much as if some conceited piece of
sophistry should go about to prove that an automa
ton had no dependency upon the skill of an artificer,
by descanting upon the several parts of it, without
taking notice in the mean while of some external
weight or spring that moves it : or, to use his own
simUitude, as if one that undertakes to analyze any
learned book, should tell us how so many letters
meeting together in several combinations, should
beget all that sense that is contained therein, with
out minding that wit that cast them aU into their se-
veral ranks. And this made Aristotle, otherwise not
over zealous of religion, soberly to acknowledge
some ' first mover,' ro Tgurov xivouv axivqrov.
And yet could we allow Epicurus this power of
motion to be seated in nature, yet that he might
perform the true task of a naturalist, he must also
give us an account how such a force and power in
nature should subsist : which indeed is easy to do,
if we call in Qebv a-xb prryfivrig, God himself as the
architect and mover of this divine artifice; but
without some infinite power, impossible.
And we should further inquire, how. these move-

OF ATHEISM. 53
able and rambling atoms come to place themselves
so orderly in the universe, and observe that abso
lute harmony and decorum in aU their motions, as
if they kept time with the musical laws of some al
mighty mind that composed all their lessons, and
measured out their dances up and down in the uni
verse ; and also how it comes to pass, if they be
only moved by chance and accident, that such re
gular mutations and generations should be begotten
by a fortuitous concourse of atoms, as sometimes
they speak of, they having no centre to seat them
selves about in an infinite vacuity, as Tully argues ;
and how these bodies that are once moved by some
impulse from their former station, return again, or
at least come to stay themselves, and do not rather
move perpetuaUy the same way the first impulse
and direction carried them ; or why they do not
there rest where their motion first began to cease,
if they were interrupted by any thing without them :
or again, if the proper motion of these atoms be al
ways toward some centre, as Epicurus sometimes
is pleased to state the business, lineis rectis, as he
saith, then how comes there, as Tully replies, to be
any generation ? or if there be a motus declinationis
joined with this motion of gravity, (which was one
of Epicurus' xugiai lb\ai, which he borrowed not
from Democritus) then why should not all tend the
same way ? and so all those motions, generations,
and appearances in nature all vanish, seeing all va
riety of motion would be taken away which way
soever this unhallowed opinion be stated ?^
Thus we see, though we should aUow Epicurus'
principle and fundamental absurdity in the frame
of nature, yet it is too airy and weak a thing to sup-

54 OF ATHEISM.
port that massy bulk of absurdities which he would
bmld upon it. But it was not the lot of any of his
stamp to be over wise (however they did boast
most in the title of Sophi) as is weU observed of
them ; for then they might have been so happy too
as to have dispelled these thick and filthy mists of
atheism, by those bright beams of truth that shine
in the frame of this inferior world, wherein, as St.
Paul speaks, the to yvasrov rou §zou is made mani
fest. *
Atheism most commonly lurks in confinio sciential
et ignorantia? ; when the minds of men begin to
draw those gross, earthly vapours of sensual and
material speculations by dark and cloudy disputes,
they are then most in danger of being benighted in
them. There is a natural sense of God that lodges
in the minds of the lowest and dullest sort of vul
gar men, which is always roving after him, catch
ing at him, though it cannot lay any sure hold on
him ; which works luce a natural instinct antece
dent to any mature knowledge, as being indeed the
first principle of it : and if I were to speak precise
ly in the mode of the Stoics, I would rather call it
ogpw vgog rbv Sebv, than with Plutarch Ssou vbriatv.
But when contentious disputes, and frothy reason
ings, and contemplations informed by fleshly affec
tions, conversant only about the outside of nature,
begin to rise up in men's souls ; they may then be
in some danger of depressing all those inbred no
tions of a Deity, and to reason themselves out of
their own senses, as the old sceptics did : and there
fore it might perhaps be wished, that some men
that have not religion, had had more superstition
* Rom. i. 19.

OF ATHEISM. 55
to accompany them in their passage from ignorance
to knowledge.
But we have run out too far in this digression:
we shall now return, and observe how our former
author takes notice of another piece of vulgar su
perstition, which he thinks fit to be chased away
by atheism, and that is, ' the terrors of the world
to come,' which he thus sets upon in his third
book,  Animi natura videtur
Atque animas claranda meis jam versibus esse,
Et metus ille foras praeceps Acherontis agendus
Funditus, humanam vitam qui turbat ab imo,
Omnia suffundens mortis nigrore 
And afterwards he tells us how this fear of the gods
thus proceeding from tlie former causes, and from
those spectres and ghastly apparitions with which
men were sometimes terrified, begat all those fan
tastic rites and ceremonies in use among them, as
their temples, sacred lakes and pools, their groves,
altars,' images, and other like vanities, as so many
idle toys to please these deities with ; and at last
concludes himself thus into atheism, as a strong
fort to preserve himself from these cruel deities
that superstition had made, because he could not
find the way to true religion.
Nunc quae causa deum per magnas numina gentes
Pervulgarit, et ararum compleverit urbes,
Suscipiendaque curarit solennia sacra,
Quae nunc in magnis florent reb usque locisque;
Unde etiam nunc est mortalibus insitus horror
Qui delubra deum nova toto suscitat orbi
Terrarum, et in festis cogit celebrare diebus ;
Non ita difficile est rationem reddere verbis.
Lib. V.

56 OF ATHEISM.
Thus we see how superstition strengthened the
wicked hands of atheism ; so far is a formal and
ritual way of religion proceeding from baseness and
servility of mind (though backed with never so
much rigour and severity) from keeping it out.
And I wish some of our opinions in religion in
these days may not have the same evil influences
as the notorious Gentile superstition of old had, as
well for the begetting this brat of atheism, as I
doubt it is too manifest they have for some other.
Thus we should now leave this argument ; only
before we pass from it, we shall observe two things
which Plutarch hath suggested to us. The first
whereof is, that howsoever superstition be never
so unlovely a thing, yet it is more tolerable than
atheism, which I shall repeat in his words, As? pose
apAXsi rrjg vsgi 'hsuv hbtflg, uawsg oipsug X^f/jtiv^ ctipaigsiv
r»jv heiGihaipoviav si hs rouro ahuvarov, (Atj avvexxbirrsiv,
\j,r\6\ ru$kouv rqv irisriv ijv ol Kksttrroi icegi §e£v e^outri, *
' We should endeavour to take off superstition
from our minds, as a film from our eyes; but if
that cannot be, we must not therefore pluck out
our eyes, and blind the faith that generaUy we have
of the Deity.' Superstition may sometimes keep
men from the outward acts of sin, and so their fu
ture punishment may have some abatement. Be
sides that atheism offers the greatest violence to
men's souls that may be, pulling up the notions of
a Deity, which have spread their roots quite through
all the powers of men's souls.
The second is this, ' that atheism itself is a most
ignoble and uncomfortable thing,' as Tully hath
* Lib. "Or/ ovTt Zfiv Xtfrtt «5swj x«t' 'Evrtxovgov.

OF ATHEISM. 5J
largely discussed it, and especially Plutarch in the
above-named treatise of his, written by way of con
futation of Colotes the Epicurean, who wrote a
book to prove that a man could not live quietly by
foUowing any other sects of phUosophers besides
his own ; as if all true good were only conversant
?rsgj yaar'sga, xai roug aKkoug irogoug rqg aagxog ditavrag,
' about the beUy, and all the pores and passages of
the body,' and the way to true happiness was <rag-
xoiroisiv tov av'&oairov okov, or else rr\v ^uyjiv ralg rov go>-
parog qhovaig xaraau%ureiv, as Plutarch hath not more
wittily than judiciously replied upon him.
What is aU that happiness that ariseth from these
bodUy pleasures to any one that hath any high or
noble sense within him ? This gross, muddy, and
stupid opinion is nothing else but a dehonestamen-
tum humani generis, that casts as great a scorn and
reproach upon the nature of mankind as may be,
and 'sinks it into the deepest abyss of baseness.
And certainly, were the highest happiness of man
kind such a thing as might be felt by a corporeal
touch, were it of so ignoble a birth as to spring out
of this earth, and to grow up out of this mire and
clay, we might well sit down, and bewaU our un
happy fates, that we should rather be born men
than brute beasts, which enjoy more, of this world's
happiness than we can do, without any sin or guilt.
How little of pleasure these short lives taste here,
which only lasts so long as the indigency of nature
is in supplying, and after that, only axid r/j xai ovag
b rjj -buyy, ' a flying shadow, or flitting dream' of
that pleasure (which is choked as soon as craving
nature is satisfied) remains in the fancy, o7ov vr'sx-
H

58 OF ATHEISM.
xavpa rm sm^ufjutSv, as Plutarch hath well observed
in the same discourse.
And therefore Epicurus, seeing how slippery the
soul was to all sensual pleasure, which was apt to
sHde away perpetuaUy from it, and again how little
of it the body was capable of where it had a shorter
stay ; he and his followers could not well teU where
to place this beggarly guest : and therefore, as Plu
tarch speaks, ava/ xai xdru peraigovrsg, ex rou caiparog
eig rnv ^vr^v eira icakiv \x raurqg sig sxsivo, ' one whUe
they would place it in the body, and then lead it
back again into the soul, not knowing where to be
stow it.' And Diodorus, and the Cyreniaci, and
the Epicureans, as TuUy tells us, who all could
fancy nothing but a bodily happiness, yet could not
agree whether it should be voluptas, or vacuitas do*
loris, or something else ; it being ever found so hard
a thing to define, like that base matter of which it
is begotten, which, by reason of its penury and scan
tiness of being, as phUosophers teU us, doth effugere
intellectum, and is nothing else but a shady kind of
nothing, something that hath a name, but nothing
else. I dare say that all those that have any just
esteem of humanity, cannot but with a noble scorn
disdain such a base-born happiness as this is, gene
rated only out of the slime of this earth : and yet
this is all the portion of atheism, which teaches the
entertainers qf it to believe themselves nothing else
but so many heaps of more refined dust, fortuitously
gathered together, which at last must be all blown
away again.
But a true beHef of a Deity is a sure support to
all serious minds, which, besides the future hopes
it is pregnant with, entertains them here with tran-

OF ATHEISM. 59
quillity and inward serenity. What the Stoic said
in his cool and mature thoughts, oux sen Zfiv ev ru xoo~- \
flu xsvu §s£v xai xsvu wgovoiag, ' it is not worth the
while to live in a world empty of God and provi
dence,' is the sense of all those that know what a
Deity means. Indeed it were the greatest unhap-
piness that might be, to have been born into such a
world, where we should be perpetually tossed up
and down- by a rude and blind fortune, and be per
petually Hable to all those abuses which the savage
lusts and passions of the world would put upon
us. It is not possible for any thing well to bear
up the spirit of that man that shaU calmly meditate
with himself on the true state and condition of this
world, should that mind and wisdom be taken away
from it which governs every part of it, and over
rules all those disorders that at any time begin to
break forth in it. Were there not an omniscient
skiU to temper, and fitly to rank in their due places
all those quarrelsome and extravagant spirits that
are in the world, it would soon prove an unhabit
able place, and sink under the heavy weight of its
own confusion ; which was wittily signified in that
fable of Phaeton, who being admitted to drive the
chariot of the sun but for one day, by his rude and
unskUful guidance of it made it fall down, and
burn the world. Remove God and providence out
of the world, and then we have nothing to depend
upon but chance and fortune, the humours and
passions of men ; and he that could then live in
it, had need be as blind as these lords would be,
that he might not see his own misery always star
ing upon him ; and had need be more senseless
and stupid, that he might not be affected with

60 OF ATHEISM.
it. " The wicked through the pride of his coun
tenance wiU not seek after God : God is not in
aU his thoughts." *¦ " O Lord, Father and God
of my life, give me not a proud look ; but turn
away from thy servants a + giant-like mind." t
* Fsal. x. 4. f yiym-riSin -^uxm. Sic Edit. Complut. } Ecclus. xxiii. 4.

DISCOURSE

DEMONSTRATING THE

IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

Sejfiot y&Q ix yetttis s%of&ivt xai tfc&VTtf Is uvrw PHOCYLIDES.
F.vtnZr,? va> Titpvx*/?* ou vroit)ot$ y oudlv xaxov xar0avivv'
CCV6J TO TVSVJ40& StCtf&Uu HUT 6V(!CCV0V.
EPICHARMUS APUD CLEM. ALEX. STROM. IV.
'O dyvJos ov du a-rittri, xai yivutrxu ^r^iv amUai, ou uvt&yxn
auru eXSovtj oixuv, xat tvtXwis ten*, to$ (Atra, Qtuv 'io-oirc.
PLOTIN. ENNEAD. LIB. IV. CAP. 45.
J
Ov fioutercti o xctxo; otSxwrov nvm TJjy \avrov i/'W^jJv.
HIEROCT.. IN PYTHAG. AUR. CARM.

DISCOURSE

IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

CHAP. I.

The first and main principles of religion, viz. 1. That God is.
2. Thflt God is a rewarder qf them that seek him : wherein is
included the great article of tke immortality qf the soul. , These
two principles acknowledged by religious and serious persons in
all ages. 3. That God communicates himself to' mankind by
Christ. The doctrine of the immortality qf the soul discoursed
of in the first place, and why ?
XXAVING finished our two short discourses con
cerning those two anti-deities, viz. superstition and
atheism ; we shaU now proceed to discourse more
largely concerning the main heads and principles of
religion. And here we are to take notice of those two car
dinal points which the author of the Epistle to the
Hebrews makes the necessary foundations of all
reHgion, viz. " That God is, and That he is a re
warder of them that seek him." * To which we
* Heb. xi. 6.

64 OF THE IMMORTALITY
should add, the immortality qf the reasonable soul,
but that that may seem included in the former : and
indeed we can neither believe any invisible reward
of which he there speaks, without an anterior be
lief of the soul's immortality ; neither can we en
tertain a serious belief of that, but the notions of
poena and praimium will naturaUy follow from it ;
we never meet with any who were persuaded of
the former, that ever doubted of the latter: and
therefore the former two have been usually taken
alone for the first principles of reHgion, and have
been most insisted upon by the Platonists ; and ac
cordingly a novel Platonist writing a summary of
Plato's divinity, entitles his book, De Deo etlmmor-
talitate Anima?. And also the Stoical philosophy re
quires a belief of these as the fundamental princi
ples of all religion, of the one whereof Epictetus
himself assures us, cap. xxxviii. fo§i on ro xugmrarov,
&c. ' Know that the main foundation of piety is
this, to have o^sag vrok^'? right opinions and ap
prehensions of God, viz. That he is, and that he
governs all things' xa~hJug xai hixaiag. And the other
is sufficiently insinuated in that cardinal distinction
of their ra l<p' qplv, and ra (*% s(p' ri\hiv, and is more
fully expressed by Simplicius. For, however the
Stoics may seem to lay some ground of suspicion,
as if they were dubious in this point, yet I think
that which Tully and others deliver concerning
their opinion herein, may fully answer all scruples,
viz. That, as they made certain vicissitudes of con
flagrations and inundations, whereby the world
should perish in certain 'periods of time ; so they
thought the souls of men should also be subject to
these periodical revolutions ; and therefore, though

OF THE SOUL. 65
they were of themselves immortal, should, in these
changes, fall under the power of the common fate.
And indeed we scarce ever find that any were
deemed religious, that did not own these two fun
damentals. Fprithe Sadducees, the Jewish writers,
are wont commonly to reckon them among the Epi
cureans, because though they held a God, yet they
denied the immortality of men's souls, which the
New Testament seems to include, if not especially
to aim at, in imputing to them a denial of the re
surrection ; which is therefore more fully explained
in the Acts, where it is added that they held there
was " neither angel nor Spirit." chap, xxiii. 8.
And these two principles are chiefly aimed at in
those two inscriptions upon the temple at Delphos,
the one, E.I, referring to God, by which title those
that came in to worship were supposed to invoke
him, acknowledging his immutable and eternal na
ture ; the other rNH0I 2EATTON, as the admo
nition of the Deity again to aU his worshippers, to
take notice of the dignity and immortaHty of their
own souls, as Plutarch and Tully, as also Clemens
Alexandrinus expound them.
But, if we wiU have the fundamental articles of
Christian reHgion, we must add to the former, The
communication qf God to mankind through Christ ;
which last the scripture treats of at large, so far as
concerns our practice, with that plainness and sim
plicity, that 1 cannot buf think, that whosoever
shaU ingeniously and with humility of spirit ad
dressing himself to God, converse therewith, will
see the bright beams of divinity shining forth in it,
and it may be, find the text itself much plainer
than all those glosses that have been put upon it ;
i

66 OF THE IMMORTALITY
though perhaps it is not so clear in matters of spe-'
culation* as some magisterial men are apt to think
it is. Now for these' three articles of faith and prac
tice, I think if we duly consider the scriptures* or
the reason of the thing itself* we shaU easUy find all
practical reHgion to be referred to them, and buUt
upon them : The nature of God and qfour oisrn. itn-
mortalsoulsboth show us what our religion shouldbe,
and also the necessity of it j and the doctrine of free
grace in Christ, the sweet and comfortable means of
attaining to that perfection and blessedness which
the other beHef teaches us to aim at.
In pursuing of these, we shall first begin with
the imntortality of the soul, which, if it be once
cleared, we can neither leave any room for atheism
(Which those, I doubt, , are not ordinarily very free
from that have gross material notions of their own
souls) nor be WhoUy ignorant what God is : for in
deed the chief natural Way whereby we can climb
up to the understanding of the Deity, is by a con
templation of our own souls. We cannot think of
him but according to the measure and model of our
own inteUect, or frame any other idea of him than
What the impressions of our own souls wiU permit
us i and therefore the best phUosophers have always
taught us to inquire for God within ourselves;
« Reason in us,' as TuUy teUs us, being participata
similitudo rationis interna? : and accordingly some
good expositors have interpreted that place in St.
John's gospel, '" He is that true light which enligh
tens every man that cometh into the world ;" chap.
i. 9. which if I were to gloss Upon in the language
of the Platonists, 1 should do it thus, "keyog \<sri (pug

OF THE SOUL. 67
ip.i>Xpv, ' tlie Eternal Word is the figbt of souls,'
which the vulgar Latin referred to* in Psal. rv. 7«
Signatum est supra nos lumen vultus tui, Domine, as
Aquinas observes. But we shall not search into
the fuU nature of the soul, but rather make our in
quiry into tke immortality of it, and endeavour to
demonstrate that.

*^

CHAP. II.

Some considerations preparatory to the proof qf the soul's
immortality.
JdUT before we fall more closely upon this, viz.
the demonstrating the soul's immortality, we shall
premise three -things.
1. That the immortality qf the soul doth not ab
solutely need any demonstration, to clear it, but might
be assumed rather as a principle or postulatum, see
ing tlie notion of it is apt naturally to insinuate itself
into the belief ofthe most vulgar sort of men. Men's
understandings commonly lead them as readUy to
beHeve that their souls are immortal, as that they
Have any existence at aU. And, though they be
not aU so wise and logical, as to distinguish aright
between their souls and their bodies, or tell what
kind of thing that is which they commonly call
their soul ; yet they are strongly inclined to believe
that some part of them shall survive another, and
that that soul, which it may be they conceive by a
gross phantasm, shall live, when the other more vi-

68 OF THE IMMORTALITY
sible part of them shaH moulder into dust. And
therefore all nations have consented in this belief^
which hath almost been as vulgarly received as the
beHef of a Deity ; as a diligent converse with his
tory wUl assure us, it having been never so much
questioned by the idiotical sort of men, as by some
unskUful phUosophers, who have had wit and fancy
enough to raise doubts, like evU spirits, but not
judgment enough to send them down again.
This consensus gentium Tully thinks enough to
conclude a law and maxim of nature by, which
though I should not universally grant, seeing some
times error and superstition may strongly plead this
argument ; yet I think for those things that are the
matter of our first belief, that notion may not be
refused. For we cannot easily conceive how any
prime notion,: that hath no dependency on any
other antecedent to it, should be generally enter
tained, did not the common dictate of nature or
reason, acting alike in all men, move them to con
spire together in the embracing of it, though they
knew not one another's minds. And this it may
be might first persuade Averroes to think of a com
mon intellect, becauij*e of the uniform judgments
of men in some things. But indeed in those no
tions, which we may call notiones orta?, there a
communis notitia is not so free from all suspicion ;
which may be cleared by taking an instance from
our present argument. The notion of the immor
tality of the soul is such a one as is generally owned
by aU those that yet are not able to coUect it by a
long series and concatenation of sensible observa
tions, and, by a logical dependence of one thing
upon another, deduce it from sensible experiments ;

OF THE SOUL. 69
"a thing that, it may be, was scarce ever done by
the wisest phUosophers, but is rather believed with
a kind of repugnancy to sense, which shows aU
things to be mortal, and which would have been
too apt to have deluded the ruder sort of men, did
not a more powerful impression upon their souls
forcibly urge them to beHeve their own immortality.
Though indeed, if the common notions of men
were well examined, it may be some common no
tion adherent to this of the immortality may be as
generaUy received, which yet in itself is false ; and
that by reason of a common prejudice which the
earthly and sensual part of man wUl equaUy possess
all men with, untU they come to be weU acquainted
with their own souls ; as namely, a notion of the
soul's materiality, and, it may be its traduction too,
which seems to be as generally received by the vul
gar sort as the former. But the reason of that is
evident ; for the souls of men exercising themselves
first of aU zivrioii r^bQanx^, as the Greek philoso
pher expresseth, merely by a ' progressive kind of
motion,' spending themselves about bodily and ma
terial acts, and conversing only with sensible things ;
they are apt to acquire such deep stamps of material
phantasms to themselves, that they cannot imagine
their own being to be any other than material and
divisible, though of a fine ethereal nature : which
kind of conceit, though it may be inconsistent with
an immortal and incorruptible nature, yet hath had
too much prevalency in phUosophers themselves,
their minds not being sufficiently abstracted whUe
they have contemplated the highest Being of aU.
And some think Aristotle himself cannot be excus
ed in this point, who seems to have thought God

70 OF THE IMMORTALITY
himself to be nothing else but f*gy« Zciov, as he styles
him. But such common notions as these are, aris
ing from, the deceptions and haUucinations of sense,
ought not to prejudice those which not sense, but
some higlier power begets in aU men. And so we
have done with that.
The second thing I should premise should be in
place of a Postulatwm to our following demonstra
tions, or rather a caution about them, which is,
that, to a right conceiving the force of any such argu
ments as may prove the soul's immortality^ there must
be an antecedent converse with our own souls. It is
no hard matter to convince any one, by clear and
evident principles, fetched from his own sense of
himself, who hath ever well meditated on the
powers and operations of his own soul, that it is
immaterial and immortal.
But those very arguments that to such will be
demonstrative, to others wiH lose something ofthe
strength of probabUity : for indeed'it is not possible
for us weU to know what our souls are, but only
by their xtvfosig xuxkixai, their ' circular and reflex
motions,' and converse with themselves, which on
ly can steal from them their own secrets. All those
discourses which' Have been written of the soul's
heraldry, wUl not blazon it so well to us as itself
wUl do. When we turn our own eyes in upon it, it
wUl soon teU us its own royal pedigree and noble
extraction, by those sacred hieroglyphics which it
bears upon itself. We shaU endeavour to inter
pret and unfold some of them in our foUowing dis
course. ii. There is one thing more to be considered,
which may serve as a common basis or principle to

OF THE SOUL. 71
our following arguments j and it is this hypothesis,
that no substantial and indivisible thing ever perisheth.
And this Epicurus and all of his sect must needs
grant, as indeed they do, and much more than it
is lawful to plead for ; and therefore they make
this one of the first principles of their atheistical
phUosophy, * ex nihilo fieri nil, et in nihilum nil posse
reverti.' But we shall here be content with that
sober thesis of Plato in his Timaeus, who attributes
the perpetuation of all substances to the benignity
and liberality of the Creator, whom he therefore
brings in thus speaking to the angels, those v'eoi SW,
as he calls them, vpsig oux sari a^dvaroi oufis ctkurm,
&c. ' you are not of yourselves immortal, nor indis
soluble ; but would relapse and slide back from
that being which I have given you, should I with
draw the influence of my own power from you :
but yet you shall hold your immortality by a patent
of mere grace from myself.' But to return, Plato
held, that the whole world, howsoever it might
meet with many periodical mutations, should re
main eterhaUy ; which I think our Christian divin
ity doth no where deny: and so Plotinus frames
this general axiom, obhev ex rod ovrog amXsirui, ' that
no substance shall ever perish.' And indeed, if we
collate aU our own observations and experience,
with such as the history of former times hath de
livered to us, we shall not find that ever any sub
stance was quite lost ; but though this Proteus-like
matter may perpetually change its shape, yet it wUl
constantly appear under one form or another, what
artsoever we use to destroy it : as it seems to have
been set forth in that old gryphe or riddle of the
Peripatetic school, Mlia Lcelia Crispis, nee mas, nee

72 OF THE IMMORTALITY
fcemina, nee androgyna, nee casta, nee meretrix, nee
pudica ; sed omnia, &c. as Fortunius Licetus hath
expounded it. Therefore it was never doubted
whether ever any piece of substance was lost, tiU of
latter times some hot-brained Peripatetics, who
could not bring their fiery and subtile fancies to any
cool judgment, began rashly to determine that all
material forms (as they are pleased to call them)
were lost. For, having once jumbled and crowded
in a new kind of being, never anciently heard of,
between the parts of a contradiction, that is, mat
ter and spirit, which they call material forms, be
cause they could not well tell whence these new
upstarts should arise, nor how to dispose of them
when matter began to shift herself into some new
garb, they condemned them to utter destruction ;
and yet, lest they should seem too rudely to con
trol aU sense and reason, they found out this com
mon tale which signifieth nothing, that these sub
stantial forms were educed ex potentia materia?,
whenever matter began to appear in any new dis
guise, and afterwards again returned in gremium
materia? ; and so they thought them not quite lost.
But this curiosity consisting only of words fortui
tously packed up together, being too subtile for
any sober judgment to lay hold upon, and which
they themselves could never yet tell how to define ;
we shaU as carelessly lay it aside,, as they boldly
obtrude it upon us, and take the common distinc
tion of all substantial being for granted, viz. That
it is either body, and so divisible, and of three di
mensions ; or else it is something which is not pro
perly a body or matter, and so hath no such dimen
sions as 'that the parts thereof should be crowding

OF THE SOUL. 73
for place, and justling one with another, not being
all able to couch together, or run one into another :
and this is nothing else but what is. commonly call
ed spirit. Though yet we will not be too critical
in depriving every thing which is not grossly cor
poreal of all kind of extension.

CHAP. III.

The first argument for the immortality qf the soul. That the soul
qf man is not corporeal. The gross absurdities upon the suppo
sition that the soul is a complex qf fluid atoms, or that it is made
up by a fortuitous concourse qf atoms : which is Epicurus' no
tion concerning body. The principles and dogmas qf the Epi
curean philosophy in opposition to the immaterial and incorporeal
nature qf the soul, asserted by Lucretius s but discovered to be
false and insufficient. That motion cannot arise from body or
matter. Nor can the power qf sensation arise from matter :
much less can reason. That all human knowledge hath not its
rise from sense. The proper function qf sense, and that it is
never, deceived. An addition qf three considerations for the en
forcing qf this first argument, and further clearing the immate
riality qf the soul. That there is in man a faculty which
1. controls sense : and 2. collects and unites aU the perceptions
of our several senses. 3. That memory and prevision are not
explicable upon the supposition qf matter and motion.
W E shall therefore now endeavour to prove, that
the soul of man is something really distinct from
his body, of_an indivisible nature^ and so cannot be I
divided into such parts as should flit one from ano
ther ; and consequently is apt of its own nature to
remain to eternity, and so will do, except the de
crees of heaven should abandon it from being.
K

74 OF THE IMMORTALITY
And first, we shaU prove it ab absurdo, and here
do as the mathematicians used. to do in such kind
of demonstrations : we wUl suppose that, if the
reasonable soul be not of such an immaterial na
ture, then it must be a body, and so suppose it to
be made up as aU bodies are : where, because the
opinions of phUosophers differ, we shaU only take
one, viz. that of Epicurus, which supposeth it to be
made up by a fortuitous concourse of atoms ; and
in that demonstrate against all the rest : (for indeed
herein a particular demonstration is a universal,
as it is in all mathematical demonstrations of this
kind.) For, if all that which is the basis of our
reasons and understandings, which we here caU the
substance of the soul, be nothing else but a mere
body, and therefore be infinitely divisible, as all bo
dies are ; it will be all one in effect whatsoever no
tion we have ofthe generation or production there
of. We may give it, if we please, finer words, and
use more demure and smooth language about it than
Epicurus did, as some that, lest they should speak
too rudely and rustically of it by caUing it matter,
wUl name it effiorescentia materia? : and yet, lest
that should not be enough, add Aristotle's quint
essence to it also : they wiU be so trim and courtly
in defining of it, that they wUl not caU it by the
name of aer, ignis, or fiamma, as some ofthe ancient
vulgar phUosophers did, bnt fios fiamma? : and yet
the Epicurean poet could use as much chymistry
in exalting his fancy as these subtUe doctors do ;
and when he would dress out the notion of it more
gaudily, he resembles it to * flos Bacchi, and spiri-
* LucrcU Lib. III.

OF THE SOUL. 75
tus unguenti suavis. But, when we have taken away
this disguise of wanton wit, we shall find nothing
better than mere body, which wUl be recoUing back
perpetually into its own inert and sluggish passive
ness : though we may think we have quickened it
never so much by this subtile artifice of words and
phrases, a man's new-born soul wUl for aU this be
but little better than his body ; and, as that is, be
but a rasura corporis alieni, made up of some small
and thin shavings pared off from the bodies of the
parents by a continual motion of the several parts
of it ; and must afterwards receive its augmentation
from that food and nourishment which is taken in,
as the body doth. So that the very grass we walk
over in the fields, the dust and mire in the streets
that we tread upon, may, according to the true
meaning of this duU phUosophy, after many refin-
ings, macerations, and maturations, which nature
performs by the help of motion, spring up into so
many rational souls, and prove as wise as any Epi
curean, and discourse as subtily of what it once
was, when it lay drooping in a senseless passiveness.
This conceit is so gross, that one would think it
wanted nothing but that witty sarcasm that Plutarch
cast upon Nicocles the Epicurean, to confute it, n
^vrr^ arb[Jboug saypv sv avry roaauragy oiat suvs\6ouaai co-
pbv av eyevvqaav.
But, because the heavy minds of men are so fre
quently sinking into this earthly fancy, we shall
further search into the entraUs of this phUosophy ;
and see how like that is to a rational soul, of which
it pretends to declare the production. Lucretius
first of all taking notice of the mighty swiftness
and celerity of the soul in all its operations, lest his

76 OF THE IMMORTALITY
matter should be too soon tired and not able to keep
pace with it, he first casts the atoms prepared for
this purpose into such perfect spherical and small
figures as might be most capable of these swift im
pressions ; for so he,
At, quod mobile tantopere est, constare rotundis
Perquam seminibus debet, perquamque minutis,
Momine uti parvo possint impulsa moveri. Lib. III.
But here, before we go any further, we might in
quire what it should be that should move these small
and insensible globes of matter. For Epicurus'
two principles, which he caUs plenum and inane, wUl
here by no means serve our turn to find out motion.
For, though our communes notitia? assure us,
that wherever there is a multiplicity of parts, (as
there is in every quantitative being) there may be a
variety of application in those parts one to another,
and so a mobility; yet motion itself will not so
easUy arise out of a plenum, though we allow it an
empty space and room enough to play up and down
in. For we may conceive a body, which is his ple
num, only as trine dimensum, being longum, latum et
profundum, without attributing any motion at aU to
it: and Aristotle in hisDe Ccelo doubts not herein
to speak plainly, on ex row euuiarog xivqaig oux eyyiverai,
1 that motion cannot arise from a body.' For in
deed this power of motion must needs argue some
efficient cause, as Tully hath well observed, if we
suppose any rest antecedent ; or if any body be
once moving, it must also find some potent efficient
to stay it and settle it in rest, as Simplicius hath
somewhere in his comment upon Epictetus wisely
determined. So that, if we wiU suppose either mo-
i jr

OF THE SOUL. 77
tion or rest to be contained originally in the nature
of any body ; we must of necessity conclude some
potent efficient to produce the contrary, or else at
tribute this power to bodies themselves ; which wiU
at last grow unbounded and infinite, and indeed
altogether inconsistent with the nature of a
body. But yet, though we should grant aU this which
Lucretius contends for, how shaU we force up these
particles of matter into any true and real percep
tions, and make them perceive their own or others' v
motions, which he caUs motus sensiferi ? For he u
having first laid down his principles of all being, as
he supposeth, (neither is he wUling to leave his ¦
deities themselves tout of the number) he only re
quires these postulata to unfold the nature of aU by,
concursus, motus, ordo, positura, figura?. Lib. I.
But how any such thing as sensation, or much less
reason, should spring out of this barren soil, how
weU tilled soever, no composed mind can imagine.
For indeed that infinite variety which is in the mag
nitude of parts, their positions, figures and motions,
may easily, and indeed must needs produce an in
finite variety of phenomena, which the Epicurean
philosophy calls eventa. And accordingly, where
there is a sentient faculty, it may receive the great
est variety of impressions from them, by which the
perceptions, which are the immediate result of a
knowing faculty, wiH be distinguished : yet cannot |
the power itself of sensation arise from them, no
more than vision can rise out of a glass, whereby
it should be able to perceive these idola that paint
themselves upon it, though it were never so exactly

78 OF THE IMMORTALITY
polished, and they much finer than they are or can
be. Neither can those smaU corpuscula, which in them
selves have no power of sense, ever produce it by
any kind of concourse or motion ; for so a cause
might in its production rise up above the height of
its own nature and virtue ; which I think every
calm contemplator of truth wUl judge impossible :
for seeing whatsoever any effect hath, it must needs
derive from its causes, and can receive no other
tincture and impression than they can bestow upon
it ; that signature must first be in the cause itself,
which is by it derived to the effect. And therefore
the wisest phUosophers amongst the ancients uni
versally concluded that there was some higher prin
ciple than mere matter, which was the cause of all
life and sense, and that to be immortal : as the Pla
tonists, who thought this reason sufficient to move
them to assert a mundane soul. And Aristotle,
though he talks much of nature, yet he delivers his
mind so cloudily, that all that he hath said of it
may pass with that which himself said of his Acroa-
tici libri, or physics, that they were exfahop&voi xai fw}
\xheho\i!evoi. Nor is it likely that he who was so little
satisfied with his own notion of nature as being the
cause of all motion and rest, as seemingly to desert
it while he placeth so many intelligences about the
heavens, could much please himself with such a
gross conceit of mere matter, that that should be
the true moving and sentient entelech of some other
matter ; as it is manifest he did not.
But indeed Lucretius himself, though he could in
a jolly fit of his over-flushed and fiery fancy tell us,

OF THE SOUL. 79
Et ridere potest non ex ridentibu* factus,
Et sapere, et doctis rationem reddere dictis,
Non ex seminibus sapientibus, atque disertis : Lib. II.
yet in more cool thoughts he found his own com
mon notions too sturdy to be so easily silenced ;
and therefore set his wits at work to find the most
quintessential particles of matter that may be, that
might do that feat, which those smooth spherical
bodies, calor, a'e'r, and ventus (for aU come into this
composition) could not do : and this was of such a
subtile and exalted nature, that his earthly fancy
could not comprehend it, and therefore he con
fesses plainly he could not tell what name to give
it, though, for want of a better, he calls it mobilem
vim, as neither his master before him, who was
pleased to compound the soul (as Plutarch relates*)
of four ingredients, ex iroiou ituguhoug, ix votou asgwhoug,
lx iroiou ¦avsuparixou, sx rerdp'ov nvog axarovopdarou o
jjv auru aioSnnxbv. But because this giant-like Pro
teus found himself here bound with such strong
cords, that notwithstanding all his struggling he
could by no means break them off from him, we
shall relate his own words the more largely. I find
them, Lib. III.
Sic calor, atque aer, et venti caeca potestas
Mista creant unam naturam, et mobilis ilia
Vis, initium motus abs se quae dividit ollis :
Sensifer unde oritur primum per viscera motus.
Nam penitus prorsum latet haec natura, subestque ;
Nee magis hac infra quidquam est in corpore nostro ;
Atque anima' st anima- proporro totius ipsa.
Quod genus in nostris membris et corpore toto
* Lib. IV. Dc Placitis Philosophoruin.

80 OF THE IMMORTALITY
Mista latens animi vis est, animaeque potestas,
Corporibus quia de parvis paucisque creata est.
Sic tibi nominis haec expers vis, facta minutis
Corporibus, latet — — — —
Thus we see how he found himself overmastered
with difficulties, whUe he endeavoured to find the
place of the sensitive powers in matter : and yet
this is the highest that he dares aim at, namely, to
prove that sensation might from thence derive its
original, as stiffly opposing any higher power of
reason ; which we shall in lucro ponere against an
other time.
But surely had not the Epicureans abandoned
all logic, together with some other sciences, (as
TuUy and Laertius teU us they did) they would
here have found themselves too much pressed with
this argument, (which yet some will think to be but
levis armatura? in respect of some other) and have
found it as little short of a demonstration to prove
the soul's immortality as the Platonists themselves
did: but herein how they dealt, Plotinus* hath
well observed of them all who denied lives and
souls to be immortal, which he asserts, and make
them nothing but bodies, that when they were
pinched with the strength of any argument fetched
from the tpucrig h^aerngiog of the soul, it was usual a-
mongst them to call this body irvsupa irSg sy/tv, or
ventus certo quodam modo se habens ; to which he
well replies, ri ro iroku^gukkr^rov abroig itug e%ov, sit 8
xarapeuyoutriv avayxaZpftevoi rfo&foai ak\riv iragaro au-
pa <pusiv hgdcrtigiov. Where by this <puaig hgaoriigiog
seems to be nothing meant but that same thing
* Enn. IV- Lib. vii. cap. 4.

OF THE SOUL. 81
which Lucretius called vim mobilem, and he would
not allow it to be any thing else but a body, though
what kind of body he could not tell : yet by it he
understands not merely an active power of motion,
but a more subtile energy, whereby the force and
nature of any motion is perceived and insinuated
by its own strength in the bodies moved ; as if these
sorry bodies by their impetuous justling together
could awaken one another out of tlieir drowsy le
thargy, and make each other hear their mutual im
petuous knocks : which is as absurd as to think a
musical instrument should hear its own sounds, and
take pleasure in those harmonious airs that are
played upon it. For that which we call sensation.
is not the motion or impression which one body
makes upon another, but a recognition of that mo
tion ; and therefore to attribute that to a body, is
to make a body privy to its own acts and passions,
to act upon itself, and to have a true and proper
self-feeling virtue ; which Porphyry * hath elegant
ly expressed, orav to Zfiiov ai&dvqrai, soixsv % ph ^y-
yfl dgf/jovia yptgKtrrji If eaurrjg raj ypphag xivouari rjgjj,o<5fjIsvag'
rrj hi h rdig ypghatg agpovia a-tfoqioTu rb ffcUpa, ' in the
sensations of living creatures the soul moves, as if
unbodied harmony herself should play upon an in
strument, and smartly touch the well-tuned strings :
but the body is like that harmony which dwells in
separably in the strings themselves, which have no
perception of it.'
Thus we should now leave this topic of our de
monstration, only we shall add this as an appendix
to it, which will further manifest the soul's incor-
* In his tract, 'Apo^v.) vrgas ra vo7jtx.
L

82 OF THE IMMORTALITY
poreal and immaterial nature, that is, that there is
a higher principle of knowledge in man than mere
sense, neither is that the sole original of aU that
science that breaks forth in the minds of men ;
which yet Lucretius maintains, as being afraid lest
he should be awakened out of this pleasant dream
of his, should any higher power rouse his sleepy
soul : and therefore he thus lays down the opinion
of his sect,
Invenies primis ab sensibus esse creatam
Notitiam veri, neque sensus posse refelli :
Nam majore fide debet reperirier illud,
Sponte sua veris quod possit vincere falsa. Lib. IV.
But yet this goodly champion doth but lay siege to
his own reason, and endeavour to storm the main
fort thereof, which but just before he defended
against the Sceptics who maintained that opinion,
that nothing could be known ; to which he having
replied by that vulgar argument, that if nothing
can be known, then neither do we know this, that
we know nothing ; he pursues them more closely
with another, that neither could they know what it is
to know, or what it is to be ignorant,
Quaeram, quum in rebus veri nil viderit ante ;
Unde sciat, quid sit scire, et nescire vicissim :
Notitiam veri quae res falsique erearit. Lib. IV.
But yet if our senses were the only judges of things,
this reflex knowledge whereby we know what it is
to know, would be as impossible as he makes it for
sense to have innate ideas of its own, antecedent to
those stamps which the radiations of external ob-

OF THE SOUL. 83
jects imprint upon it. For this knowledge must be
antecedent to all that judgment which we pass up
on any sensatum, seeing, except we first know what
it is to know, we could not judge or determine a*
right upon the approach of any of these idola to our
senses. But our author may perhaps yet seem to make a
more fuU confession for us in these two points.
First, That no sense can judge another's objects,
nor convince it of any mistake,
Non possunt alios alii oonvincere sensus,
Nee porro poterunt ipsi reprehendere sese. Lib. IV.
If therefore there be any such thing within us as
controls our senses, as all know there is ; then must
that be of a higher nature than our senses are.
But secondly, he grants further, that all our sen
sation is nothing else but perception, and therefore
wheresoever there is any hallucination, that must
arise from something else within us besides the
power of sense,
 — quoniam pars hprum maxima fallit

Propter opinatus animi, quos addimus ipsi,
Pro visis ut sintj quae non sunt sensibu' visa. Lib. IV.
In which words he hath very happily lighted upon
the proper function of sense, and the true reason
of all those mistakes which we call the deceptions
of sense, which indeed are not truly so, seeing
they arise only from a higher faculty, and consist
not in sensation itself, but in those deductions and
corollaries that our judgments draw from it.
We shall here therefore grant that which the Epi-

84 OF THE IMMORTALITY
curean philosophy, and the Peripatetic too, though
not without much caution, pleads for universally,
That our senses are never deceived, whether they be
sani or te*?, sound or distempered, or whatsoever
proportion or distance the object or medium bears
to it : for if we well scan this business, we shall
find that nothing of judgment belongs to sense, it
consisting only ev ala^rirr^iu ira&si, ' in perception ;'
neither can it make any just observation of those
objects that are without, but only discerns its own
passions, and is nothing else but yvuaig rwv iraStuv,
and tells how it finds itself affected, and not what is
the true cause of those impressions which it finds
within itself; (which seems to be the reason of that
old philosophical maxim recited by Aristotle, Lib. III.
De Anima, cap. 2. ours ukkav slvai avsu o-^sug, ouhs
%u[Jbbv avsu yeuoeag, that these simulacra were only in
our senses ; which notion a late author hath pur
sued :) and therefore when the eye finds the sun's
circle represented within itself of no greater big
ness than a foot diameter, it is not at all herein mis
taken ; nor a distempered palate, when it tastes a
bitterness in the sweetest honey, as Proclus, a fa
mous mathematician and Platonist, hath well deter
mined, in Plat. Tim. al y«g aloSfioeig rb eaurwv aitay-
y'eWouai vo^t^a, xai ou iravrq ipeuhovrai, ' The senses
in aU things of this nature do but declare their own
passions or perceptions, which are always such as
they seem to be,' whether there be any such paral-
lelum signaculum in the object as bears a true analogy
with them or not : and therefore in truth they are
never deceived in the execution of their own func
tions. And so doth Aristotle, Lib. III. De Anima,
cap. 3. conclude, that error is' neither in sense

OF THE SOUL. 85
nor fancy, ouhsvi virdg%sj u prj xai kbyog, ' it is in no
faculty but only that in which is reason.' Though
it be as true on the other side, that Epicurus and
aU his sect were deceived, while they judged the
sun and moon and all the stars to be no bigger than
that picture and image which they found of them
in their own eyes ; for which silly conceit, though
they had been for many ages sufficiently laughed at
by wise men, yet' could not Lucretius tell how to
enlarge his own fancy, but believes the idolum in his
own visive organ to be adequate to the sun itseff) in
despite of all mathematical demonstration ; as in
deed he must needs, if there were no higher prin
ciple of knowledge than sense is, which is the most
indisciplinable thing that may be, and can never be
taught that truth which reason and understanding
might attempt to force into it : a'k^aig xav pugidxig
axouri rou kbyou keyovrog on psiXjav b rfktog rrjg yrjg, &c.
' Though reason inculcates this notion ten thousand
times over, that the sun is bigger than the earth,
yet wiU not the eye be taught to see it any bigger
than a foot breadth :' and therefore he rightly calls
it, as all the Platonical and Stoical phUosophy doth,
akoybv ri, and it may well be put among the rest of
the Stoics akoya ird'&r}.
Thus I hope by this time we have found out x%sir-
rovd nva rrjg aioStiaeog huvaptv, some more noble power
in the soul than that is by which it accommodates
itself to the body, and according to the measure and
proportion thereof converseth with external matter.
And this is the true reason why we are so apt to
be mistaken in sensible objects, because our souls
sucking in the knowledge of external things there
by, and not minding the proportion that is between

86 OF THE IMMORTALITY
the body and them, mindless of its own notions,
coUates their corporeal impressions with external
objects themselves, and judgeth of them one by
another. But whensoever our souls act in their
own power and strength, untwisting themselves
from aU corporeal complications, they then can find
confidence enough to judge of things in a seeming
contradiction to all those other visa corporea.
And so I suppose this argument will amount to
no less than a demonstration of the soul's immate-
riaHty, seeing to all sincere understanding it is ne
cessary that it should thus abstract itself from all
corporeal commerce, and return from thence nearer
into itself.
Now what we have to this purpose more gene
raUy intimated, we shall further branch out in these
two or three particulars.
First, That that mental faculty and power where
by we judge and discern things, is so far from being
a body, that it must retract and withdraw itself
from all bodily operation whensoever it will nakedly
discern truth. For should our souls always mould
their judgment of things according to those itaQi)-
para and impressions which seem to be framed
thereof in the body, they must then do nothing else
but chain up errors and delusions one with another
instead of truth : as should the judgments of our
understandings wholly depend upon the sight of our
eyes, we should then conclude that our mere ac
cesses and recesses from any visible object have
such a magical power to change the magnitudes of
visible objects, and to transform them into aU varie
ties of figures and fashions ; and so attribute all
that variety to them which we find in our corporeal

OF THE SOUL. 87
perceptions. Or should we judge of gustables by
our taste, we should attribute to one and the self
same thing all that variety which we find in our own
palates. Which is an unquestionable argument that
that power whereby we discern of things, and make
judgments of them different and sometimes contra
ry to those perceptions that are the necessary results
of all organical functions, is something distinct from
the body ; and therefore though the soul, as Plato
hath weU observed, be psgiarn ite£i rd aupara, various
and divisible accidentally in these sensations and
motions wherein it extends and spreads itself as it
were upon the body, and so according to the na
ture and measure thereof perceives its impressions ;
yet it is ev saury apegiarri indivisible, returning into it
self. Whensoever it will speculate truth itself) it
wiU not then listen to the several clamours and
votes of these rude senses which always speak with
divided tongues ; but it consults some clearer ora
cle within itself: and therefore Plotinus hath well
concluded concerning the body, * tpvbhiov rouro, s'i
rig aura b raig cxe-^sm irgosyguro, ' should a man make
use of his body in his speculations,' it will entangle
his mind with so many contradictions, that it will
be impossible to attain to any true knowledge of
things. We shall conclude this therefore, as Tully
doth his contemplation of the soul's operations
about the frame of nature, the fabric of the heavens,
and motions of the stars, JlmrmiS.qm hg?p int.p.Uigity
Secondly, We also find such a faculty within our
own souls as collects and unites all the perceptions

• Enn. IV. Lib. iii.

88 OF THE IMMORTALITY
of our several senses, and is able to compare them
together ; something in which they all meet as in
one centre : which Plotinus hath weU expressed,
he7 touto usicsg xevrqov elvar ygafiifjiidg he oukka&ouaag sx
iregupsgsiag xuxkou, rag iravraypdsv aia6rj<rsig irgbg rouro ire-
qaivttv, xai rotourov rb avnka(i&avb^jSvov sivai h ovrwg, * ,
' that in which all those several sensations meet as
so many lines drawn from several points in the cir
cumference, and which comprehends them all, must
needs be one.' For should that be various and con
sisting of several parts, which thus receives all these
various impressions, then must the sentence and
judgment passed upon them be various too. Aris
totle in his De Anima, Asirb'ivkeyeiv o,n 'irsgov, ' That
must be one that judgeth things to be diverse ;'
and that must judge too b ayjagiaru ygbvu, setting all
before it at once. Besides, we could not conceive
how such an immense variety of impressions could
be made upon any piece of matter, which should
not obliterate and deface one another. And there
fore Plotinus hath well disputed against them who
make all sensation ruicwasig xai ba<p%ayiaeig b -^uy/i'
which brings me to the third.
Thirdly, That knowledge which the soul retains
in itself of things past, and in some sort prevision
of things to come, whereby many grow so sagacious
in foreseeing future events, that they know how to
deliberate and dispose of present affairs, so as to be
ready furnished and prepared for such emergencies
as they see in a train and series of causes wliich
sometimes work but contingently : I cannot think
Epicurus himself could in his cool thoughts be so
* Emi 1 V. Lib vii. cap. 6.

OF THE SOUL. 89
unreasonable as to persuade himself, that all the
shuffling and cutting of atoms could produce such
a divine piece of wisdom as this is. What matter
can thus bind up past, present, and future time to
gether ? which whUe the soul of man doth, it seems
to imitate (as far as its own finite nature will permit
it to strive after an imitation of) God's eternity :
and grasping and gathering together a long series
of duration into itself, makes an essay to free itself
from the rigid laws of it, and to purchase to itself
the freedom of a true eternity. And as by its
ygovixoi irgbohoi (as the Platonists are wont to speak)
* chronical and successive operations,' it unravels
and unfolds the contexture of its own indefinite in
tellectual powers by degrees ; so by this memory
and prevision it recollects and twists them all up
together again into itself. And though it seems to
be continually sliding from itself in those several
vicissitudes and changes which it runs through in
the constant variety of its own effluxes and emana
tions ; yet is it always returning back again to its
first original, by a swift remembrance of all those
motions and multiplicity of operations which have
begot in it the first sense of this constant efflux.
As if we should see a sunbeam perpetually flowing
forth from the bright body of the sun, and yet ever
returning back to it again ; it never loseth any part
of its being, because it never forgets what itself
was : and though it may number out never so vast
a length of its duration, yet it never comes nearer
to its old age, but carrieth a Hvely sense of its youth
and infancy along with it, which it can at pleasure
lay a fast hold on.
But if our souls were nothing else but a complex
M

90 OF THE IMMORTALITY
of fluid atoms, we should be continuaUy roving and
sHding from ourselves, and soon forget what we
once were. The new matter that would come in
to fiU up that vacuity which the old had made by
its departure, would never know what the old were,
nor what that should be that would succeed : »Wsg
|s«7 pwxfl aurri b dyvoia sarai, sov jj Irsga olhe, xai ataireg
b akkog b'yxog fawv, ' that new pilgrim and stranger
like soul would always be ignorant of what the
other before it knew, and we should be wholly some
other bulk of being than we were before,' as Plo
tinus hath excellently observed. * It was a famous
speech of wise Heraclitus, eig tov aurbv irorauibv hig
oux av epQattig, ' a man cannot enter twice into the
same river :' by which he was wont symbolically
to express the constant flux of matter, which is the
most unstable thing that may be. And if Epicurus'
philosophy could free this heap of refined atoms,
which it makes the soul to be, from this inconstant
and flitting nature, and teach us how it could be
\hbvt\kov ri some stable and immutable thing, always
resting entire whUe it is in the body ; though we
would thank him for such a goodly conceit as this
is, yet we would make no doubt but it might as
weU be able to preserve itself from dissolution and
dissipation out of this gross body, as in it : seeing
it is no more secured from the constant impulses of
that more gross matter which is restlessly moving
up and down in the body, than it is out of it: and
yet for aU that we should take the leave to ask
Tully's question with his sober disdain, Quid, ob-
secro, terrdne tibi aut hoc nebuloso et caliginoso ccelo
* Enn. IV. Lib. vii. cap. 5.

OF THE SOUL. 91
aut sata aut concreta videtur tanta vis memories?
Such a jewel as this is too precious to be found in
a dunghUl : mere matter could never thus stretch
forth its feeble force, and spread itself over aU its
own former pre-existences. We may as weU sup
pose this duU and heavy earth we tread upon to
know how long it hath dwelt in this part of the uni
verse that now it doth, and what variety of crea
tures have in aU past ages sprung forth from it, and
all those occurrences and events which have, during
all this time, happened upon it.

CHAP. IV.

The second argument for the immortality qf the soul. Actions
either automatical or spontaneous. That spontaneous and elicit
actions evidence the distinction qf the soul from the body. Lu
cretius' evasion very slight and weak. That the liberty qf tke
will is inconsistent with the Epicurean principles. That the con
flict qf reason agamst the sensitive appetite argues a being in us
superior to matter.
W E have done with that which we intended for
the first part of our discourse of the soul's immor
tality : we have hitherto looked at it rather in con-
creto than in abstracto, rather as a thing comphcated
with and united to the body ; and therefore consi
dered it in those operations, which, as they are not
proper to the body, so neither are they altogether
independent of it, but are rather of a mixed
nature. We shall now take notice of it in those properties,,

92 OF THE IMMORTALITY
in the exercise whereof it hath less commerce with
the body, and more plainly declares its own high
descent to us, that it is able to subsist and act
without the aid and assistance of this matter which
it informs. And here we shall take that course which Aristotle
did in his books De Anima, and first of all inquire,
4 Whether it hath ihtov ri, some kind of action so
proper and peculiar to itself, as not to depend upon
the body.' And this soon offers itself in the first
place to us in those elicit motions of it, as the mo
ralists are wont to name them, which, though they
may end in those they call imperate acts, yet have
their first emanation from nothing else but the soul
itself. For this purpose we shall take notice of two sorts
of actions which are obvious to the experience of
every one that observes himself, according to a dou
ble source and emanation of them, which a late phi
losopher hath very happUy suggested to us. The
first are those actions wliich arise up within us with
out any animadversion ; the other are those that
are consequent to it.
1. For we find frequently such motions within
ourselves which first are, before we take notice- of
them, and which by their own turbulency and im-
petuousness force us to an advertency: as those
fiery spirits and that inflamed blood which sometimes
fly up into the head; or those gross and earthly
fumes that disturb our brains ; the stirring of many
other humours which beget within us grief, melan
choly, anger, or mirth, or other passions ; which
have their rise from such causes as we were not
aware of, or gave no consent to create this trouble

OF THE SOUL. 93
to us. Besides all those passions and perceptions
which are begotten within us by some external mo
tions which derive themselves through our senses,
and fiercely knocking at the door of our minds and
understandings, force them sometimes from their
deepest debates and musings of some other thing,
to open to them and give them an audience.
Now as to such motions as these are, it being ne
cessary for the preservation of our bodies that our
souls should be acquainted with them, a man's body
was so contrived, and his soul so united to it, that
they might have a speedy access to the soul. Indeed
some ancient phUosophers thought that the soul de
scending more deeply into the body, as they express
it, first begot these corporeal motions unknown to it
self by reason of its more deep immersion, which after
wards by their impetuousness excited its advertency.
But whatsoever truth there is in that assertion, we
clearly find from the relation of our own souls them
selves, that our soul disowns them, and acknow
ledgeth no such motions to have been so busy by
her commission ; neither knows what they are,
from whence they arise, or whither they tend, until
she hath duly examined them. But these corporeal
motions, as they seem to arise from nothing else
but merely from the machina ofthe body itself; so
they could not at all be sensated but by the soul.
Neither indeed are all our own corporeal actions
perceived by us, but only those that may serve to
maintain a good correspondence and intelligence
between the soul and body, and so foment and cher
ish that sympathy between them, which is neces
sary for the subsistence and well-being ofthe whole
man in this mundane state. And therefore there is

94 OF THE IMMORTALITY
very little of that which is commonly done in our
body, which our souls are at all informed of. The
constant circulation of the blood through all our
veins and arteries ; the common motions of our
animal spirits in our nerves ; the maceration of
food within our stomachs, and the distribution of
chyle and nourishment to every part that wants the
relief of it ; the constant flux and reflux of more
sedate humours within us ; the dissipations of our
corporeal matter by insensible transpiration, and
the accesses of new matter in the room of it ; all
this we are little acquainted with by any vital ener
gy which ariseth from the union of soul and body :
and therefore, when we would acquaint ourselves
with the anatomy and vital functions of our own
bodies, we are fain to use the same course and me
thod that we would to find out the same things in
any other kind of animal, as if our souls had as
little to do with any of these in our own bodies, as
they have in the bodies of any other brute crea
ture. 2. But, on the other side, we know as well, that
many things that are done by us, are done at the
dictate and by the commission of our own wills ;
and therefore all such actions as these are, we
know, without any great store of discoursive in-
k quiry, to attribute to their own proper causes, as
*-- seeing the efflux and propagation of them. We do
not by a naked speculation know our bodies first to
have need of nourishment, and then by the edict of
our wills enjoin our spirits and humours to put
themselves into a hungry and craving posture with
in us, by corroding the tunicles of the stomach ;
but. we first find our own souls solicited by these

OF THE SOUL. 9.5
motions, which yet we are able to gainsay, and to
deny those petitions which they offer up to us. We
know we commonly meditate and discourse of such
arguments as we ourselves please: we mould de
signs, and draw up a plot of means answerable
thereto, according as the free vote of our own souls
determines; and use our own bodies many times,
notwithstanding all the reluctancies of their nature,
only as our instruments to serve the wUl and plea
sure of our souls. AU which, as they evidently
manifest a true distinction between the soul and
the body, so they do as evidently prove the supre
macy and dominion which the soul hath over the
body. Our moralists frequently dispute what kind
of government that is whereby the soul, or rather
wUl, rules over the sensitive appetite, which they
ordinarily resolve to be imperium politicum ; though
I should rather say, that aU good men have rather a
true despotical power over their sensitive faculties,
and over the whole body, though they use it only
according to the laws of reason and discretion.
And therefore the Platonists and Stoics thought
the soul of man to be absolutely freed from all the
power of astral necessity, and uncontroUable impres
sions arising from the subordination and mutual
sympathy and dependence of all mundane causes,
which is their proper notion of fate. Neither ever
durst that bold astrology which presumes to tell the
fortunes of all corporeal essences, attempt to enter
into the secrets of man's soul, or predict the des
tinies thereof. And indeed, whatever the destinies
thereof may be that are contained in the vast vo
lume of an infinite and Almighty Mind, yet we evi
dently find a rb ip' fju,"iv, an aurs%ou<stov, ' a liberty of

96 OF THE IMMORTALITY
will within ourselves,' maugre the stubborn malice
of aU second causes. And Aristotle, who seems to
have disputed so much against that auroxivri<tia of
souls which his master before him had soberly main
tained, does indeed but quarrel with that common
sense and experience which we have of our souls ;
this auroxtvrtaia of the soul being nothing else but
that innate force and power which it hath within it,
to stir up such thoughts and motions within itself
as it finds itself most free to. And therefore, when
we reflect upon the productions of our own souls,
we are soon able to find out the first efficient cause
of them. And, though the subtilty of some wits
may have made it difficult to find out whether the
understanding or the wiU, or some other faculty of
the soul, be the first mover, whence the motus primb
primus (as they please to call it) proceeds ; yet we
know it is originaUy the soul itself, whose vital acts
they all are : and, although it be not auro&sv irgurti,
the first cause, as deriving all its virtue from itself)
as SimpHcius * distinguisheth, yet it is b rdTg itpurotg
puaixij, vitally co-working with the first causes of
all. But, on the other side, when we come to ex
amine those motions which arise from the body, this
stream runs so far under ground, that we know not
how to trace it to the head of it ; but we are fain
to analyze the whole artifice, looking from the spi
rits to the blood, from that to the heart, viewing
aU along the mechanical contrivance of veins and
arteries: neither know we, after all our search,
whether there be any perpetuum mobile in our own
bodies, or whether all the motions thereof be only
* 1 De An. cap. 1.

OF THE SOUL. 97
by the redundancy of some external motions with
out us ; nor how to find the first mover in nature ;
and though we could find out that, yet we know
that there is a fatal determination which sits in
aU the wheels of mere corporeal motion ; neither
can they exercise any such noble freedom as we
constantly find in the wills of men, which are as
large and unbounded in all their elections, as rea
son itself can represent being itself to be.
Lucretius, that he might avoid the dint of this
argument, according to the genius of his sect, feigns
this liberty to arise from a motion of declination,
whereby his atoms always moving downwards by
their own weight towards the centre of the world,
are carried a little obliquely, as if they tended to- .
ward some point different from it, which he calls
clinamen principiorum. Which riddle, though it be
as good as any else which they, who held the mate-
riaHty and mortality of souls in their own nature,
can frame to solve this difficulty ; yet is of such
a private interpretation, that I believe no GSdipus
is able to expound it But yet, by what we may
guess at it, we shall easUy find that this insolent
conceit (and all else of this nature) destroys the
freedom of wUl, more than any fate which the se
verest censors thereof,- whom, he sometimes taxeth,
ever set over it. For how can any thing be made
subject to a free and impartial debate of reason, or
fall under the level of free-will, if all things be thq
mere result either of a fortuitous or fatal motion of
bodies, which can have no power or dominion over
themselves ? and why should he, or his great mas
ter, find so much fault with the superstition of the
world, and condemn the opinions of other men
N

98 OF THE IMMORTALITY
when they compare them with that transcendent
sagacity they beHeve themselves to be the masters
of, if all was nothing else but the mere issue of ma
terial motions ; seeing that necessity which would
arise from a different concourse and motion of se
veral particles of matter, begetting that diversity
of opinions and wiUs, would excuse them all from
any blame ?
Therefore, to conclude this argument, whatever
essence finds this freedom within itself, whereby it
is absolved from the rigid laws of matter, may know
itself also to be immaterial; and, having dominion
over its own actions, it wUl never desert itself : and,
because it finds itself non vi aliend sed sua moveri,
. as Tully argues, it feels itself able to preserve itself
from the foreign force of matter, and can say of aU
those assaults which are at any time made against
those sorry mud walls which in this life enclose it,
ouhh wgos s{jus, as the Stoic did, ' aU this is nothing to
me,' who am yet free, and can command within, when
this feeble carcass is able no longer to obey me ;
and when that is shattered and broken down, I can
\ Hve any where else without it ; for I was not that,
: but had only a command over it, whUe I dwelt in it.
But before we wholly desert this head, we may
add some further strength to it, from the observa
tion of that conflict which the reasons and under
standings of men maintain against the sensitive ap
petite : and wheresoever the higher powers of rea
son in a man's soul prevail not, but are vanquished
by the impetuousness of their sensual affections,
through their own neglect of themselves ; yet are
they never so broken, but they may strengthen
themselves again: and, where they subdue not

OF THE SOUL. 99
men's inordinate passions and affections, yet even
there wUl they condemn them for them. Whereas,
were a man all of one piece, and made up of no
thing else but matter, these corporeal motions
could never check or control themselves, these
material dimensions could not struggle with them
selves, or by their own strength render themselves
any thing else than what they are. But this aurs\-
ouaiog Z^rj, as the Greeks call it, this ' self-potent
life' which is in the soul of man, acting upon itself)
and drawing forth its own latent energy, finds it
self able to tame the outward man, and bring under
those rebellious motions that arise from the mere
animal powers, and to tame and appease all those
seditions and mutinies that it finds there. And if
any can conceive all this to be nothing but a mere
fighting of the mal-contented pieces of matter
one against another, each striving for superiority
and pre-eminence ; I should not think it worth the
while to teach such a one any higher learning, as
looking upon him to be endued with no higher a
soul than that which moves in beasts or plants.

CHAP. V.

The third argument for the immortality qf the soul. That mathe
matical notions argue the soul to be qf a true spiritual and im
material nature.
W E shall now consider the soul awhile in a fur
ther degree of abstraction, and look at it in those

100 OF THE IMMORTALITY
actions which depend not at all upon the body
wherein it doth rqv euurou auvoutsiav aeitdXftfoat, as the
Greeks speak, and converseth only with its own
being. Which we shall first consider in those kb-
yoi p»a§ri[Jbarixoi or mathematical notions which it
contains in itself, and sends forth from within itself;
which, as they are in themselves indivisible, and of
such a perfect nature as cannot be received or im
mersed into matter ; so they argue that subject in
which they are seated to be of a true spiritual and
immaterial nature. Such as a pure point, linea kts-
karrjg, latitude abstracted from all profundity, the
perfection of figures, equality, proportion, symme
try and assymmetry of magnitudes, the rise and
propagation of dimensions, infinite divisibility, and
many such like things ; which every ingenious son
of that art cannot but acknowledge to be the true
characters of some immaterial being, seeing they
were never buried in matter, nor extracted out of
it : and yet these are transcendently more certain
and infallible principles of demonstration than any
sensible thing can be. There is no geometrician
but wUl acknowledge angular sections, or the cut
ting of an arch into any number of parts required,
to be most exact without any diminution of the
whole ; but yet no mechanical art can possibly so
perform either, but that the place of section will
detract something from the whole. If any one
should endeavour, by any mechanical subtilty, to
double a cube, as the Delian oracle once command
ed the Athenians, requiring them to duplicate the
dimensions of Apollo's altar ; he would find it as
impossible as they did, and be as much laughed at
for his pains as some of their mechanics were. If

OF THE SOUL. 101
therefore no matter be capable of any geometrical f
affections, and the apodictical precepts of geometry
be altogether inimitable in the purest matter that j
fancy can imagine ; then must they needs depend j
upon something infinitely more pure than matter, )
which hath all that stability and certainty within
itself, which it gives to those infallible demonstra-l
tions. We need not here dispute with Empedocles,
Tafy [ih yoig yamv offwira/MV, udari 8' vhug, &c.
' We know earth by earth, fire by fire, and water
by water,' that is, by the archetypal ideas of aU
things in our own souls ; though it may be it were
no hard matter to prove that, as in this case St.
Austin did, when in his book De Quant. Animae, he
would prove the immortality of the soul from these
notions of quantity, which come not by any possi
ble sense or experience which we can make of bo
dily being, and therefore concludes they must needs
be immediately engraven upon an immaterial soul.
For, though we could suppose our senses to be the
school-dames that first taught us the alphabet of
this learning ; yet nothing else but a true mental
essence could be capable of it, or so much improve
it as to unbody it all, and strip it naked of any sen
sible garment, and then only, when it hath done it,
embrace it as its own, and commence a true and
perfect understanding of it. And, as we all hold
it impossible to contract any material quality,
which wUl perpetually spread itself commensurably
to the matter it is in, into a mathematical point :
so is it much more impossible to extend and stretch
forth any immaterial and unbodied quality or no-

102 OF THE IMMORTALITY
tion according to the dimensions of matter, and yet
to preserve the integrity of its own nature.
Besides, in these geometrical speculations, we find
that our souls wUl not consult with our bodies, or
ask any leave of our fancies in what manner, or how
far they shall distribute their own notions by a con
tinued progress of invention ; but spending upon
their own stock, are most free and liberal, arid make
fancy only to serve their own purpose in painting
out, not what matter will afford a copy of, but what
they themselves will dictate to it ; and, if that
should be too busy, sUence and control it by their
own imperial laws. They so little care for matter
in this kind of work, that they banish it as far as
may be from themselves, or else chastise and tame
the unruly and refractory nature of it, that it should
yield itself pliable to their sovereign commands.
These embodied bodies (for so this present argument
will allow me to call them) which our senses con
verse with, are perpetually justling together, con
tending so irresistibly each for its own room and
space, and will not admit of any other into it,
preserving their own intervals : but when they are.
once in their unbodied nature entertained in the
mind, they can easily penetrate one another 0X05 hi
oka. The soul can easily pile the greatest number
up together in herself, and by her own force sustain
them all, and make them all couch together in the
same space : she can easUy assemble all those five
regular bodies together in her own imagination, and
blend them together, and then entering into the very
heart and centre of them, discern all their properties
and several respects one to another ; and thus ea
sily find herself freed from all material or corporeal

OF THE SOUL. 103
confinement ; showing how all that which we call
body, rather issued forth by an infinite projection
from some mind, than that it should exalt itself into
the nature of any mental being ; and, as the Plato
nists and Pythagoreans have long since well ob
served, how our bodies should rather be in our souls,
than our souls in thenL ^ And so I have done with~
that particular.

CHAP. VI.

The fourth argument for the immortality of the soul. That those
clear and stable ideas qf truth which are in man's mind, evince
an immortal and immaterial substance residing in us, distinct
from the body. The soul more knowable than the body. Some
passages out qf Plotinus and Proclusfor the further confirming
qf this argument.
AND now have we traced the immortality ofthe
soul, before we were aware, through those three re
lations or oyjiasig, or (if you will) degrees of know
ledge, which Proclus in his comment upon Plato's
Timaeus hath attributed to it, which he calls ruv
yvaianxuv huvdpsav ffstgdv. The first is a'ttferiaig dkoyog,
a naked perception of sensible impressions, without
any work of reason. The second, hb\a pera kbyou,
a miscellaneous kind of knowledge arising from a
coUation of its sensations with its own more obscure
and dark ideas. The third, hidvoia xai kbyog, dis
course and reason, by which the Platonists describe
mathematical knowledge, which, because it spins

104 OF THE IMMORTALITY
out its own notions by a constant series of deduc
tion, knitting up consequences one upon another by
demonstrations, is by him caUed vbriaig (JberaQarixtj, 'a
progressive kind of knowledge ;' to which he adds
a fourth, which we shall now make use of for a fur
ther proof of the immortality of the soul. There
is therefore, fourthly, vbqcig kwiera^drug, which is a
naked intuition of eternal truth which is always the
same, which never rises nor sets, but always stands
still in its vertical, and fills the whole horizon ofthe
soul with a mild and gentle light. There are such
calm and serene ideas of truth, that shine only in
composedsouls, and cannot be discerned by any
troubled or fluid fancy, that necessarily prove a po-
vipov xai ardaipbv ri, ' some permanent and stable es
sence' in the soul of man, which (as Simplicius on
Epictet. well observes) ariseth only curb axtvr]rou n-
vbg, xai xara irdvra rgbirov a[/ieraQkrirou alr'tag, rijg asi
xara rd aura xai aaaurug s^fiuffrig, ' from some im
moveable and unchangeable cause which is always
the same.' For these operations about truth we
now speak of, are not ygovixai b'sgysiai any « chronical
energies,' as he further expresses it, but the true
badges of an eternal nature, and speak a raurbrrig
and &rdmg (as Plato is wont to phrase it) in man's
soul. Such are the archetypal ideas of justice, wis
dom, goodness, truth, eternity, omnipotency, and
aU those either moral, physical, or metaphysical no
tions, which are either the first principles of science,
or the ultimate complement and final perfection of
it. These we always find to be the same, and know
that no exorcisms of material mutations have any
power over them : though we ourselves are but of
yesterday, and mutable every moment, yet these

OF THE SOUL. 105
are eternal, and depend not upon any mundane vi
cissitudes ; neither could we ever gather them from
our observation of any material thing, where they
were never sown.
If we reflect but upon our own souls, how mani
festly do the species of reason, freedom, perception,
and the like, offer themselves to us,, whereby we may
Jtnow^a thousand .times more distinctly what our
souls are than what our bodies are? For the former
we know t>y_Jin immediate conyerse^with ourselves,
and a distinct sense oftheir operations ; whereas
all our knowledge of the body is little better than
merely historical, which we gather up by scraps
and piecemeals from more doubtful and uncertain
experiments which we make of them : but the no
tions which we have of a mind, i. e. something within
us that thinks, apprehends, reasons, and discourses,
are so clear and distinct from all those notions which
we can fasten upon a body, that we can easUy con
ceive that if all body-being in the world were des
troyed, yet we might then as well subsist as we now
do. For whensoever we take notice of those im
mediate motions of our own minds, whereby they
make themselves known to us, we find no such thing
in them as extension or divisibility, which are con
tained in every corporeal essence : and having no
such thing discovered to us from our nearest fami
liarity with our own souls, we could never so easily
know whether they had any such things as bodies
joined to them or not, did not those extrinsical im
pressions that their turbulent motions make upon
them admonish them thereof.
But, as the more we reflect upon our own minds,
we find all intelligible things more clear, (as when

106 OF THE IMMORTALITY
we look up to the heaven§, we see all things more
bright and radiant, than when we look down upon
this dark earth when the sunbeams are withdrawn
from it :) so, when we see all intelligible being con
centring together in a greater oneness, and aU kind
of multiplicity running more and more into the
strictest unity, till at last we find all variety and di
vision sucked up into a perfect simplicity, where all
happily conspire together in the most undivided
peace and friendship ; we then easily perceive that
the reason of all diversity and distinction is (that I
may use Plotinus' words not much differently from
his meaning) (jt/erd&uctig awo vou e\g koyiffUibv. For,
though in our contentious pursuits after science, we
cast wisdom, power, eternity, goodness, and the
like, into several formalities, that so we may trace
down science in a constant chain of deductions ;
yet, in our naked intuitions and visions of them, we
clearly discern that goodness and wisdom lodge to
gether, justice and mercy kiss each Other : and all
these, and whatsoever pieces else, into which our
reasons may sometime break divine and intelligible
being, are fast knit up together in the invincible
bonds of eternity. And in this sense is that notion
of Propius, descanting upon Plato's riddle. of the
soul, \ug yevwfrq xai ay'evvrfrog, * as if it were gener
ated and yet not generated'] to be understood ;
ygovog ccpa xai aiuv iregi rrp -^/uy^v, the soul partaking
of time in its broken and particular conceptions and
apprehensions, and of eternity in its comprehensive
and stable contemplations. I need not say that
when the soul is once got up to the top of this bright
Olympus, it wUl then no more doubt of its own im
mortality, or fear any dissipation, or doubt whether

OF THE SOUL. 107
any drowsy sleep shall hereafter seize upon it : no, j
it will then feel itself grasping fast and safely its j
own iminortality, and view itself in the horizon of \
eternity. In such sober kind of ecstacies did Plo
tinus find his own soul separated from his body, as
if it had divorced it for a time from itself: irokkdxig
iyeigopsvog sig spaurbv ix rou aaipurog, xai yevbpsvog ruv [th
akkav s\a), kftiaurov he s'iaia, SavfAuerbv qkixov bgm xdkkog,
&c. ' I being often awakened into a sense of my
self, and being sequestered from my body, and be
taking myself from all things else into myself; what
admirable beauty did I then behold,' &c. as he him
self teUs us.* Thus is that intelligence begotten
which Proclus t calls ' a correction of science :'
his notion is worth our taking notice of, and gives
us in a manner a brief recapitulation of our former
discourse, showing, the higher we ascend in the
contemplation of the soul, the higher still we rise
above this low sphere of sense and matter. His
words are these, Awn? $ sirtarrifjai ug psv b -^u%a7g av'e-
ksyxrog eenv, skeyyjrai S1 curb vou, &c. that is, * science,
as it is in the soul (by which he means the dis-
coursive power of it) is blameless, but yet is cor
rected by the mind ; as resolving that which is in
divisible, and dividing simple being as if it were
compounded : as fancy corrects sense for discerning
with passion and material mixture, from which that
purifies its object ; opinion corrects fancy, because
it apprehends things by forms and phantasms, which
itself is above ; and science corrects opinion, be
cause it knows without "discerning of causes ; and
the mind, (as was insinuated) or the intuitive fa-
* Enn. IV. Lib. viii. cap. I. f L'b- "• '" plat- Tim>

108 OF THE IMMORTALITY
culty corrects the scientifical, because, by a pro
gressive kind of analysis, it divides the intelligible
object, where itself knows and sees things together
in their undivided essence : wherefore this only is
immoveable, and science or scientifical reason is in
ferior to it in the knowledge of true being.' Thushe.
But here we must use some caution, lest we should
arrogate too much to the power of our own souls,
which indeed cannot raise up themselves into that
pure and steady contemplation of true being ; but
will rather act with some multiplicity or srsgoryg (as
they speak) attending it. But thus much of its
high original may appear to us, that it can (as our
author told us) correct itself, for dividing and dis
joining therein, as knowing all to be every way one
most entire and simple : though yet all men cannot
easily improve their own understandings to this
high degree of comprehension ; and therefore aU
ancient phUosophers, and Aristotle himself, made it
the peculiar privilege of some men more abstracted
from themselves and all corporeal commerce.

CHAP. VII.
What it is that, beyond the highest and most subtile speculations
whatsoever, does clear and evidence to a goodman the immortal
ity qf his soul. That true goodness and virtue begets the most
raised sense qf this immortality. Plotinus? excellent discourse
to this purpose.
AND now, that we may conclude the argument
in hand, we shaU add but this one thing further to
clear the soul's immortality, and it is indeed that

OF THE SOUL. 109
which breeds a true sense of it, viz. True and real
goodness. Our highest speculations ofthe soul may
beget a sufficient conviction thereof within us, but
yet it is only true goodness and virtue in the souls
of men that can make them both know and love,
believe and delight themselves in their own immor
taHty. Though every good man is not so logically t
subtile as to be able by fit mediums to demonstrate
his own immortality, yet he sees it in a higher light:
his soul being purged and enhghtened by true sanc
tity, is more capable of those divine irradiations, ,
whereby it feels itself in conjunction with God, and I
by a euvduyetu (as the Greeks speak) the light of di- J
vine goodness mixing itself with the light of its own j
reason, sees more clearly not only that it may, if it \
please the supreme Deity, of its own nature exist \
eternally, but also that it shall do so : it knows it (
shall never be deserted of that free goodness that
always embraceth it : it knows that Almighty love
which it lives by, to be stronger than death, and \
more powerful than the grave ; it will not suffer [
those holy ones that are partakers of it to lie inhell, •¦
or their souls to see corruption ; and, though worms \
may devour their flesh, and putrefaction enter into \
those bones that fence it, yet it knows that its Re- \
deemer lives, and that it shall at last see him with
a pure intellectual eye, which wiU then be clear and !
bright, when all that earthly dust, which converse ,
with this mortal body filled it with, shall be remo
ved: it knows that God will never forsake his own I

life which, he liatliquickened in it; he will never1;
deny"tiioleiar^hT^esires of & blissful fruition off
himseH0, which the lively sense of his own goodness i
hath excited within it : those breathings and gasp- j

1 10 OF THE IMMORTALITY
ings after an eternaljgarticipation of him are but
the energy 01 his own breathwlthin us ; jf he had
had any mind to. destroy it, he would never have
shown_jj^i^^things^ done ; he would
not raise it up to such mounts of vision, to show it
aU the glory of that heavenly Canaan flowing with
eternal and unbounded pleasures, and then preci
pitate it again into that deep and darkest abyss
of death and non-entity. Divine goodness cannot,
it wUl not, be so cruel to holy souls that are such
ambitious suitors for his love. The more they con
template the blissful effluxes of his divine love upon
themselves, the more they find themselyes strength
ened with an undaunted confidence in him ; and
look not upon themselves in these poor bodUy rela
tions and dependences, but intheir eternal alliances,
&g xbaptot, . wg u!oi rou Seov, (as Arrianus sometimes
\ speaks) _as_the sons of_God, who is the Fatherjrf
souls, souls that are able to live any where in this
j spaciojisjaniverse, and_ better out. pf this dark and
i lonesome cell of bodily matter,, which is always
cKeckihg and clogging them in their noble motions,
than in it: as knowing that when they leave this
body, they shall then be received into everlasting
\ habitations, and converse freely and familiarly with
\ that source of life and spirit which they conversed
| with in this life in a poor, disturbed, and straitened
/ manner. It k indeed nothing else that makes men
question the immortality of their souls, so much as
their own base and Wthly loves, which first makes
them wish their soWwere not immortal, and then
to think they are nor^ which Plotinus hath well
observed, and accordingly, hath soberly pursued this
argument.

OF THE SOUL. Ill
I cannot omit a large recital of his discourse,
which tends so much to disparage that inanimated
philosophy which these latter ages have brought
forth ; as also those heavy spirited Christians that
find so little divine life and activity in their own
souls, as to imagine them to fall into such a dead
sleep as soon as they leave this earthly tabernacle,
that they cannot be awakened again, till that last
trumpet and the voice of an archangel shaU rouse
them up. Our author's discourse is this,* having
first premised this principle, that every divine thing
is immortal, kd&apev he "fyuyfiv, p) rrjv brS amyjan, Sec.
' Let us now consider a soul (saith he) not such a
one as is immersed into the body having contracted
unreasonable concupiscence and anger (eirfoupiuv xai
SufJ!,bv, according to which they were wont to dis
tinguish between the irascible and concupiscible fa
culty) and other passions ; but such a one as hath
cast away these, and as Httle as may be commu
nicates with the body : such a one as this will suf
ficiently manifest that all vice is unnatural to the
soul, and something acquired only from abroad ;
and that the best wisdom and all other virtues lodge
in a purged soul, as being alHed to it. If therefore
such a soul shall reflect upon itself, how shall it not
appear to itself to be of such a kind of nature as
divine and eternal essences are ? for wisdom and
true virtue being divine effluxes can never enter
into any unhallowed and mortal thing : it must
therefore needs be divine, seeing it is filled with a
divine nature hid auyy'sveiav xai rb bpoouciov by its kin
dred and consanguinity therewith. Whoever there-
* Enn TV. Lib. vii. cnp. 10.

112 OF THE IMMORTALITY
fore amongst us is such a one, differs but little in
his soul from angelical essences ; and that little is
the present inhabitation in the body, in which he is
inferior to them. And if every man were of this
raised temper, or any considerable number had but
such holy souls, there would be no such infidels as
would in any sort disbelieve the soul's immortality.
But now the vulgar sort of men beholding the souls
of the generality so mutilated and deformed with
vice and wickedness, they cannot think of the soul
as of any divine and immortal being ; . though in
deed they ought to judge of things as they are in
their own naked essences, and not with respect to
that which extra-essentially adheres to them ; which
is the great prejudice of knowledge. Contemplate
therefore the soul of man denuding it of all that
which itself is not, or let him that does this, view his
own soul ; then he will believe it to be immortal,
when he shall behold it b ru voriru xai sv ru xaSag»,
fixed in an intelligible and pure nature ; he shall
then behold his own inteUect contemplating, not
any sensible thing, but eternal things, with that
which is eternal, that is, with itself, looking into the
intellectual world, being itself made all lucid, intel
lectual, and shining with the sunbeams of eternal
truth, borrowed from the first good, which perpe-
tually rayeth forth his truth upon all intellectual
[ beings. One thus qualified may seem, without any
arrogance, to take up that saying of Empedocles,
Xoc/ggr, syu h' vpiv Ssbg dpQgorog.  Farewell all
earthly allies, I am henceforth no mortal being, but
an immortal angel, ascending up into divinity, and
reflecting upon that likeness of it which I find in
myself. When true sanctity and purity shall ground

OF THE SOUL. 113
him in the knowledge of divine things, then shall
the inward sciences, that arise from the bottom of
his own soul, "display themselves ; which indeed
are the only true sciences : for the soul runs not j
out of itself to behold temperance and justice
abroad, but its own light sees them in the contem- i
plation of its own being, and that divine essence
which was before enshrined within itself.'
I might, after all this, add many more reasons
for a further confirmation of this present thesis,
which are as numerous as the soul's relations and
productions themselves are ; but to every one who
is wUling to do his own soul right, this evidence
we have already brought in is more than suffi
cient.

CHAP. VIII.

An appendix, vontaining an inquiry into the se?ise and opinion qf
Aristotle concerning the immortality qf the soul. That accord
ing to him the rational soul is separable from the body, and
immortal. The true meaning of his intellectus agens and pa-
tiens.
JriAVING done with the several proofs of the
soul's immortaHty, (that great principle of natural
theology, which if it be not entertained as a com
munis notitia, as I doubt not but that it. is by the
vulgar sort of men, or as an axiom, or, if you wUl,
a theorem of free and impartial reason, all endea
vours in religion will be very cool and languid) it

114

OF THE IMMORTALITY

may not be amiss to inquire a little concerning his
opinion, whom so many take for the great intelli
gencer of nature, and omniscient oracle of truth ;
though it be too manifest that he hath so defaced
the sacred monuments of the ancient metaphysical
theology by his profane hands, that it is hard to
see that lovely face of truth which was once engra
ven upon them, (as some of his own interpreters
have long ago observed) and so blurred those fair
copies of divine learning which he received from
his predecessors, that his late interpreters, who'
make him their all, are sometimes as little acquaint
ed with his meaning and design, as they are with
that elder philosophy which he so corrupts ; which
indeed is the true reason they are so ambiguous in
determining his opinion of the soul's immortality ;
which yet he often asserts and demonstrates in his
three books De Anima. We shall not here traverse
this notion through them all, but only briefly take
notice of that which hath made his expositors stum
ble so much in this point ; the main whereof is that
definition which he gives of the soul, wherein he
seems to make it nothing else for the genus of it,
but an entelechia or informative thing, which
spends all its virtue upon that matter which it in
forms, ancl cannot act any other way than merely
by information ; being indeed nothing else but some
material sihog, like an impression in wax which cannot
subsist without it, or else the result of it : whence it is
that he caUs only either material forms, or the func
tions and operations of those forms, by this name.
But indeed he intended not this for a general defini
tion ofthe soul of man, and therefore after he had laid
down this particular definition of the soul, he tells

OF THE SOUL. 1 15
us expressly, * that that which we call the rational
soul is ypiporrj or ' separable from the body,' hid rb
fjt,rjhevbg slvai Gaparag brek'synav, ' because it is not the
entelech of any body.' Which he lays down the
demonstration of, in several places of all those three
books, by inquiring si sari ri rav rrjg ^uyfjg egyav $ ira-
^ri^drav 'ihiov, as he speaks, t ' whether the soul hath
any proper function or operation of its own,' or
whether all be compounded, and result from the soul
and body together : and in this inquiry finding that
all sensations and passions arise as well from the bo
dy as from the soul, and spring out ofthe conjunc
tion of both of them, (which he therefore calls hukoi
kbyoi, as being begotten by the soul upon the body)
he concludes that aU this savours of nothing else but
a material nature, inseparable from the body. But
then finding acts of mind and understanding, which
cannot be propagated from matter, or casually de
pend upon the body, he resolves the principles from
whence they flow to be immortal ; which he thus
sets down, t iregi hs rou vou xai rra Ssagrirtxrjg huvd^sug,
obh'sxu pavsgbv, dkk' eoixs -^vyjjg y'svog 'iregov elvai, &c.
that is, ' now as for the mind and theoretical power,
it appears not,' viz. that they belong to that soul
which in the former chapter was defined by brske-
%eia, * but it seems to be another kind of soul, and
that only is separable from the body, as that which
is eternal and immortal from that which is corrup
tible. But the other powers or parts of the soul,
viz. the vegetative and sensitive, are not separable,
xaSdirsg paat nvsg, as some think.' Where by these,
\_nvsg some] which he here refutes, he manifestly
« Lib. 11. cap. I. f Lib- l- caP- 1- f Lib- l1, caP' "

116 OF THE IMMORTALITY
means the Platonists and Pythagoreans, who held
that all kinds of souls were immortal, as well the
souls of beasts as of men ; whereas he, upon that
former inquiry, concluded that nothing was immor
tal, but that which is the seat of reason and under
standing : and so his meaning is, that this rational
soul is altogether a distinct essence from those other;
or else that glory which he makes account, he reaps
from his supposed victory over the other sects of
philosophers, will be much eclipsed, seeing they
themselves did not so much contend for that which
he decries, viz. an exercise of any such informative
faculties in a state of separation, neither do we find
them much more, to reject one part of that com
plex axiom of his, to (usv atoSqnxbv oux avsu o~uparog,
6 hs voug xagio-rbg, * ' that which is sensitive is not
without the body, but the intellect or mind is se
parable,' than they do the other.
The other difficulty with which Aristotle's
opinion seems to be clogged, is that conclusion
which he lays down, o' hs irdSrsnxbg voug, pSagrbg, *
which is commonly thus expounded, intellectus
patiens est corruptibilis. But all this difficulty will
soon be cleared, if once it may appear how ridi
culous their conceit is, that from that chapter fetch
that idle distinction of intellectus agens et patiens ;
meaning by the agens, that which prepares phan
tasms, and exalts them into the nature of inteUigi
ble species, and then propounds them to the patiens
to judge thereof: whereas indeed he means nothing
else by his voug iraSrwxbg, but only the understand
ing in potentia, and by his voug iroiqnxbg, the same in
• Lib. III. cap. 4. | Lib. III. cap. 5.

OF THE SOUL. 117
actu Qr in habitu, as the schoolmen are wont to
• phrase it : and accordingly thus lays down his
meaning and method of this notion. In the pre
ceding chapter of that book, he disputes against
Plato's connate species, as being afraid, lest if the
soul should be prejudiced by any home-born no
tions, it would not be indifferent to the entertaining
of any other truth. Where, by the way, we may
observe how unreasonable his argument is : for if
the soul hath no such stock of principles to trade
with, nor any proper notions of its own that might
be a xgtrqgiov of aU opinions, it would be so indif
ferent to any, that the foulest error might be as
easily entertained by it as the fairest truth ; neither
could it ever know what guest it receives, whether
truth, or falsehood. But yet our author found him
self able to swallow down this absurdity, though
when he had done he could not well digest it. For
he could not but take notice of that which was ob
vious for any one to reply, that irdg voug ian vorirbg,
and so reflecting upon itself, may find matter with
in to work upon ; and so lays down this scruple in
a way not much different from his masters, xai au-
rbg. he vorirbg ian, uairsg ra vorira, &c. ' but the soul
itself is also intelligible, as well as aU other intelli
gible natures are ; and in those beings which are
purely abstracted from matter, that which under
stands is the same with that which is understood.'
Thus he. But not being master of this notion, he
finds it a little too unruly for him, and falls to in
quire why the soul should not then always be in actu;
quitting himself of the whole difficulty at once by
telHng us, that our souls are here clogged with a
hyle or matter that cleaves to them, and so all the

118 OF THE IMMORTALITY
matter of their knowledge is contained in sensible
objects, which they must extract -out of them, be
ing themselves only iv huvdpst or in potentia ad in-
telligendum. Just as in a like, argument (Chap.
VIII.) he would needs persuade us, that the under
standing beholds all things in the glass of fancy ;
and then questioning how our irgwra vori^ara or
' first principles of knowledge' should be phan
tasms, he grants ' that they are not indeed phan
tasms, dkk' oux avsu pavraa^drcov, but yet they are
not -without phantasms ;' which he thinks is enough
to say, and so by his mere dictate without any fur
ther discussion to solve that knot : whereas in all
reflex acts, whereby the soul reviews its own opin
ions, . and finds out the nature of them, it makes
neither use of sense or phantasms ; but acting im
mediately by its own power, finds itself dauparov
xai yjugiarrjv aupdrav, as Simplicius observes.
But to return, this hyle or matter which our au
thor supposeth to hinder a free and uninterrupted
exercise of understanding, is indeed nothing else
but the soul's potentiality ; and not any kind of di
visible or extended nature. And, therefore, when
he thus distinguisheth between his intellectus agens
and patiens, he seems to mean almost nothing else
but what our ordinary metaphysicians do in their
distinction of actus and potentia, (as Simplicius hath
truly observed) when they teU us, that the finest
created nature is made up of these two compound
ed together. For we must know that the genius
of his phUosophy led him to fancy a uiroxsipsvbv n,
' a certain subject or obediential power' in every
thing that fell within the compass of physical specu
lation, or that had any relation to any natural bo-

OF THE SOUL. 119
dy ; and some other power which was sihoiroiouv,
that was of an active and operating nature : and
Consequently that both these principles were in the
soul itself, which as it was capable of receiving
impressions and species from the fancy, and in a
posse to understand, so it was passive ; but as it
doth actually understand, so it is itoinnxbg or active.
And with this notion he begins his fifth chapter,
'Eirsi hs aiWeg b airdar) rri puaei ian' ri, rb \Csv ukrj exda-
tu y'svei, &c. that is, ' Seeing that in every nature
there is something which as a first subject is all
things potentially, and some active principle which
produceth all things, as art doth in matter ; it is
necessary that the soul also partake of these differ
ences.' And this he illustrates by light and colours ;
resembling the passive power of the intellect to
colours, the active or energetical to light : and
therefore he says, ' it is yjagiarbg, xai djxiyrig, xai d-
ira^sng, separable, unmixed, and impassible ;' and
so at last concludes, yju^ta^eig hi ian pbvov rou§' oVeg
sari, ' in the state of separation this intellect is al
ways that which it is (that is, it is always active
and energetical, as he had told us before, njf ouaia
uv iv'sgysia, the essence of it being activity) xai rouro
Ujbvov dSdvarov xai d'ihiov, ou (JtiV/i[/iOveuo[Aev he on rouro psv
uira'&eg, and this only is immortal and eternal, but
we do not remember because it is impassible.' In
which last words he seems to disprove Plato's Re-
miniscentia, because the soul in a state of separa
tion being always in act, the passive power of it,
which then first begins to appear when it is embo
died, could not represent or contain any such tra
ditional species as the energetical faculty acted up
on before ; seeing there was then no fancy to retain

120 OF THE IMMORTALITY
them in, as Simplicius expounds it, hib iv rjj irsy rSv
pvri\hoveuruv voriaei, hebpeba irdvrwg rou fteygt pavraaiag
irgotbvrog kbyou, because in all remembrance we must
reflect upon our fancy. And this our author seems
to glance at, it being indeed never out of his eye,
in these words we have endeavoured to give an ac
count of, o he ira&nnxbg voug pSagrbg, xai avsu rourou
ouSsv voei, ' but the passive inteUect is corruptible,
and without this we can understand nothing in this
life.' And thus our forenamed commentator doubts
not to gloss on them.

CHAP. IX.

A main difficulty concerning the immortality of the soul [viz. The
strong sympathy of the soul with the body"] answered. An an
swer to another inquiry, viz. Under what account impressions
derived from the body do fall in morality.
W E have now done with the confirmation of this
point, which is the main basis of all religion, and
shaU not at present trouble ourselves with those
difficulties that may seem to incumber it ; which
indeed are only such as beg for a solution, but do
not, if they be impartiaUy considered, proudly con
test with it : and such of them which depend upon
any hypothesis which we may apprehend to be laid
down in Scripture, I cannot think them to be of
any such moment, but that anyone who deals free
ly and ingenuously with this portion of God's truth,

OF THE SOUL. 121
may from thence find a far better method of an
swering, than he can of moving any scruples against
the soul's immortality, which that most strongly
every where supposes, and does not so positively
and hnrug lay down, as presume that we have an an
tecedent knowledge of it, and therefore principaUy
teaches us the right way and method of providing
in this Hfe for our happy subsistence in that eternal
estate. And as for what pretends to reason or ex
perience, I think it may not be amiss briefly to
search into one main difficulty concerning the soul's
immortaHty : and that is, that strange kind of de
pendency which it seems to have on the body,
whereby it seems constantly to comply and sympa
thize therewith, and to assume to itself the frailties
and infirmities thereof, to laugh and languish as it.
were together with that : and so when the body is
composed to rest, our soul seems to sleep together
with it ; and as the spring of bodUy motion seated
in our brains is more clear or muddy, so the con
ceptions of our minds are more distinct or dis
turbed. To answer this difficulty, it might be enough per
haps to say, that the sympathy of things is no suf
ficient argument to prove the identity of their es
sences by, as I think all wiU grant ; yet we shall en
deavour more fully to solve it.
And for that purpose we must take notice, that
though our souls be of an incorporeal nature, as we
have already demonstrated, yet they are united to
our bodies, not as assisting forms or intelligences,
as some have thought, but in some more immediate
way ; though we cannot teU what that is, it being
the great arcanum in man's nature^ that it was
" ~'  '  """"  ' oT

122 OF THE IMMORTALITY
which troubled Plotinus so much, when he had
contemplated the immortality of it, that, as he
speaks of himself ',* eig koyia^bv dxsb vou xara&ag, dirogw
irug wore xai vuv xaraQaiva, xai oV/aj iror'e (fjOi evhov r] -^uy^
yey'svnrai rou awparog, rouro ouaa olbv ipdvrj xaSr' saurr)v,
xai irsg ouaa iv au^ari. But indeed to make such a
complex thing as man is, it was necessary that the
soul should be so united to the body, as to share in
its passions and infirmities so far as they are void
of sinfulness. And as the .body alone could not
perform any act of sensation or reason, and so it
self become a Zfiov irokmxbv, so neither would the
soul be capable of providing for the necessities of
the body, without some way whereby a feeling and
sense of them might be conveyed to it ; neither
could it take sufficient care of this corporeal lUe, as
nothing pertaining to it, were it not solicited to a
natural compunction and compassion by the indi
gencies of our bodies. It cannot be a mere men
tal speculation that would be so sensibly affected
with hunger or cold or other griefs that our bodies,
necessarUy partake of, to move our souls to take
care for their relief: and were there not such a
commerce between our souls and bodies, as that our
souls also might be made acquainted by a pleasur
able and delightful sense of those things that most
gratify our bodies, and tend most to the support of
their crasis and temperament ; the soul would be
apt whoUy to neglect the body, and commit it
wholly to all changes and casualties.^ Neither
would it be any thing more to us than the body
of a plant or star, which we contemplate sometimes
" Enn. IV. Lib. viii. cap. I.

OF THE SOUL. 123
with as much contentment as we do our own bodies,
having as much of the theory of the one as of the
other. And the relation that our souls bear to such
peculiar bodies as they inhabit, is one and the same
in point of notion and speculation with that which
they have to any other body : and therefore that
which determines the soul to this body more than
that, must be some subtile vinculum that knits and
unites it to it in a more physical way, which there
fore Proclus sometimes calls irveupanxbv oyyiMt Trig
¦<\iuy/ig, * a spiritual kind of vehicle,' whereby cor
poreal impressions are transferred to the mind,
and the dictates and decrees of that are carried
back again into the body to act and move it. He-
raclitus, wittily glancing at these mutual aspects and
intercourses, caUs them * dpoiQag dvayxaiag ix rZv
buvriuv, ' the responsals or antiphons wherein each
of them catcheth at the other's part, and keeps
time with it ;' and so he tells us that there is bhbg
avca Kai xara, ' a way that leads upwards and down
wards between the soul and body,' whereby their
affairs are made known to one another. For as the
soul could not have a sufficient relation of the state
and condition of our bodies, except it received
some impressions from them ; so neither could our
souls make use of our bodies, or derive their own
virtue into them as they do, without some interme
diate motions. For as some motions may seem to
have their beginning in our bodies, or in some ex
ternal mover, which are not known by our souls till
their advertency be awakened by the impetuousness
of them : so some other motions are derived by our
* Plotin. Enn. IV. Lib. viii. cap. 1.

124 OF THE IMMORTALITY
own wills into our bodies, but yet in such a way as
they cannot be into any other body; for we cannot
by the mere magical virtue of our wiUs move any
thing else without ourselves, nor follow any such
virtue by a concurrent sense of those mutations
that are made by it, as we do in our own bodies.
And as this conjugal affection and sympathy be
tween soul and body are thus necessary to the being
of mankind ; so we may further take notice of some
peculiar part within us where aU this first begins :
which a late sagacious philosopher hath happUy ob
served to be in that part of the brain from whence
all those nerves that conduct the animal spirits up
and down the body take their first original ; seeing
we find aU motions that first arise in our bodies, to
direct their course straight up to that, as continu
aUy respecting it, and there only to be sensated, and
all the imperate motions of our wUls issuing forth
from the same consistory. Therefore the animal
spirits, by reason of their constant mobUity and
swift motion, ascending to the place of the origi
nation of our nerves, move the soul, which there
sits enthroned, in some mysterious way ; and de
scending at the beck of our wiUs from thence, move
all the muscles and joints in such sort as they are
guided and directed by the soul. And if we ob
serve the subtile mechanism of our own bodies, we
may easUy conceive how the least motion in these
animal spirits wUl, by their relaxing or distending
the nerves, membranes, and muscles, according to
their different quantity, or the celerity and qua-
Hty of their motions, beget all kind of motions
Hkewise in the organical part of our bodies. And
therefore that our souls may the better inform our

OF THE SOUL. 125
bodies, they must perceive all their varieties ; and
because they have such an immediate proximity to
these spirits, therefore, also, aU the motions of our
souls in the highest way of reason and understand
ing are apt to stir these quick and nimble spirits
always attending upon them, or else fix them too
much. And thus we may easily see, that should
our souls be always acting and working within us,
our bodies could never take that rest and repose
which is requisite for the conservation of nature.
As we may easUy perceive in all our studies and
meditations that are most serious, our spirits are the
more fixed, attending the beck of our minds. And
except this knot whereby our souls are wedded to
our bodies were unloosed that our souls were loose
from them, they could not act, but presently some
motion or other would be impressed upon our bo
dies : as every motion in our bodies that is extra
ordinary, when our nerves are distended with the
animal spirits, by a continual communication of it
self in these nerves like so many intended chords
to their original, moves our souls ; and so, though
we always perceive that one of them is primarily
affected, yet we also find the other presently by
consent to be affected too.
And because the soul hath all corporeal passions
and impressions thus conveyed to it, without which
it could not express a due benevolence to that body
which peculiarly belongs to it ; therefore as the mo
tions of these animal spirits are more or less either
disorderly and confused, or gentle and composed,
so those souls especially who have not by the exer
cise of true virtue got the dominion over them, are
also more or less affected proportionably in their

126 OF THE IMMORTALITY
operations. And therefore indeed to question
whether the soul, that is of an immortal nature,
should entertain these corporeal passions, is to
doubt whether God could make a man or not, and
to question that which we find by experience in
ourselves ; for we find both that it doth thus, and
yet that the original of these is sometimes from bo
dies, and sometimes again by the force of our wills
they are impressed upon our bodies.
Here by the way we may consider in a moral way
what to judge of those impressions that are derived
from our bodies to our souls, which the Stoics call
dkoya ird^rr not because they are repugnant to rea
son, or are aberrations from it, but because they de
rive not their original from reason, but from the
body, which is akoybv rr and are by Aristotle, more
agreeably to the ancient dialect, called evukoi kbyot,
1 material or corporeal ideas or impressions.' And
these we may safely reckon, I think, amongst our
adiaphora in morality, as being in themselves nei
ther good nor evil, (as all the ancient writers have
done) but only are formed into either by that stamp
that the soul prints upon them, when they come to
?be entertained into it. And therefore whereas
some are apt, in the most severe way, to censure
rag irgurag xara puatv bgpdg, all those commotions and
passions that first affect our souls ; they might do
well more cautiously to distinguish between such
of these motions as have their origination in our
bodies, and such as immediately arise from our
souls : else may w.e not too hastily displace the an
cient termini, and remove the land-marks of virtue
and vice ? For seeing the soul could not descend
into any corporeal act, as it must do while it is more

OF THE SOUL. 127
present to one body than another, except it could
partake of the griefs and pleasures of the body ; can
it be any more sinful for it to sensate this, than it
is for it to be united to the body ? If our soul could
not know what it is to eat or drink, but only by a
mere ratiocination, collecting by a dry syllogistical
discourse, that meats and drinks preserve the health
and fabric of the body, repairing what daily exhales
from it without sensating any kind of grief in the
want, or refreshment in the use of them ; it would
soon suffer the body to languish and decay. And
therefore as these bodUy infirmities and passions are
not evil in themselves ; so neither are they evil as
they first affect our souls. When our animal spi
rits, begot of fine and good blood, gently and nimb
ly play up and down in our brains, and swiftly fly
up and down our whole bodies, we presently find
our fancies raised with mirth and cheerfulness : and
as when our fancies are thus exalted, we may not
call this the energy of grace ; so if our spleen or
hypochondria, sweUing with terrene and sluggish
vapours, send up such melancholic fumes into our
heads as move us to sadness and timorousness, we
cannot justly call that vice ; nor when the gall does
pour forth its bitter juice into our liver, which
mingling itself with the blood, begets fiery spirits
that presently fly up into our brain, and there beget
impressions of, anger within us. The Hke we may
say of those corporeal passions which are not bred
first of all by any peccant humours or distempera-
tures in our own bodies, but are excited in us by
any external objects which by those idola and ima
ges that they present to our senses, or rather those
motions they make in them, may presently raise

128 OF THE IMMORTALITY ^
such commotions in our spirits : for our body main
tains not only a conspiration and consent of aU its
own parts, but also it bears a like relation to other
mundane bodies with which it is conversant, as be
ing a part of the whole universe. But when our
soul, once moved by the undisciplined petulancy of
our animal spirits, shall foment and cherish that ir
rational grief, fear, anger, love, or any other such
like passions contrary to the dictates of reason ; it
then sets the stamp of sinfulness upon them. It is
the consent of our own wiUs that by brooding of
them brings forth those hateful serpents. For
though our souls be espoused to these earthly bo
dies, and cannot but in some measure sympathize
with them, yet hath the soul a true dominion of its
own acts. It is not the mere passion, if we take it
in a physical sense, but rather some inordinate ac
tion of our own wiUs that entertain it : and these
passions cannot force our wills, but we may be able
to chastise and allay aU the inordinacy of them by
the power of our wUls and reasons : and therefore
God hath not made us under the necessity of sin,
by making us men subject to such infirmities as
these are, which are merely Zpai aupdrav, as the
Greek phUosopher hath well caUed them, ' the blos
somings and shootings forth of bodily life within
us ;' which is but rb dv&gairivov or humanity.
And, if I mistake not,, our divinity is wont some
times to acknowledge some such thing in our Sa
viour himself, who was in all things made like to us
our sinfulness excepted. He was " a man of sor
rows and acquainted with griefs,"* as the pro
* Isa. Iiii. 3.

OF THE SOUL. 129
phet Isaiah speaks of him : and when he was in
bodily agonies and horrors, the powerful assaults
thereof upon his soul moved him to petition his
Father, that, " if it were possible, that bitter cup
might pass from him ;"* and the sense of death so
much afflicted him, that it bred in him the sad
griefs which St. Peter expresseth by ahivug rou S-a-
vdrou, 'the pangs or throes of death,' t and that
fear that extorted a desire to be freed from it, as it
is insinuated by that in Heb. v. 7. ' he was deli
vered from what he feared ;' for so the words, being
nothing else but an Hebraism, are to be rendered,
siaaxouaSsig airb rrjg iuka&eiag. And we are wont to
caU this the language and dictate of nature which
lawfully endeavours to preserve itself, though pre
sently a higher principle must bring all these under
a subjection to God, and a free submission to his
good pleasure : as it was with our Saviour, who
moderated all these passions by a ready resignment
of himself and his own will up to the will of God ;
and though his humanity craved for ease and relax
ation, yet that divine nature that was within him
would not have it with any repugnancy to the su
preme wUl of God.
* Matt. xxvi. 39. f Acts "• 24'

DISCOURSE

CONCERNING

THE EXISTENCE AND NATURE OF GOD.

" 'O yap savrov ytovs, yvuffiroa 9-iov* Stov Se o yvovs, ofAOieulbvitrirat 9-eS' ofASiatSwirui
Si B'iM, a a%io$ ytvof&tvog Slow' a.%tog di ymrut Siov, a fcrj^h uvafyov vrgurroiv Siout
aXXa (poavujv y.iv ra avrov, XoySv Se a (pgovu, tfoim Se « "koyu"
Agapetus ad Justinianum.
" Ex tot generibus nullum est animal prater hominem quod habeat notitiam aliquam
Dei : ipsisque in hominibus nulla gens est neque tam immansueta, neque tam f era,
qua non, etiamsi ignoret quahm habere Deum deceat, tamen habendum sciat"
M. T. Cicero Lib. I. De Legibus.

DISCOURSE

EXISTENCE AND NATURE OF GOD.

CHAP. I.
That the best may to know God is by an attentive reflection upon
our own souls. God more clearly and lively pictured upon fhe
souls qf men, than upon any part qf the sensible world.
W E shaU now come to the other cardinal princi
ple of aU religion, and treat something concerning
God. Where we shaU not so much demonstrate
that he is^ as what he is.
Both which we may best learn from a reflection
upon our , own souls, as Plotinus hath well taught
us, etg eaurbv lirtargspw, sig dgy/jv iiriargepei, ' he who
reflects upon himself, 'reflects upon his own origi
nal,' and finds the clearest impression of some eter
nal nature and perfect being stamped upon his own
soul. And therefore Plato seems sometimes to re
prove the ruder sort of men in his times for their
contrivance of pictures and images to put them-

134 OF THE EXISTENCE
selves in mind of the Oeoi or angelical beings,
and exhorts them to look into their own souls,
which are the fairest images not only of the lower
divine natures, but of the Deity itself; God haying
7 so copied forth himself into the whole life and en-
ergy of man's soul, as that the lovely characters of
Divinity may be most easily seen and read of
aU men within themselves : as they say Phidias the
famous statuary, after he had made the statue of
Minerva with the greatest exquisiteness of art to be
set up in the Acropolis at Athens, afterwards im-
\ pressed his own image so deeply in her buckler,
; ut nemo delere possit aut divellere, qui totam statuam
jnon imminueret. And if we would know what the
impresse of souls is, it is nothing but God himself,
who could not write his own name so as that it
might be read, but only in rational natures. Nei
ther' could he make such without imparting such
an imitation of his own eternal understanding to
them as might be a perpetual memorial of himself
within them. And whenever we look upon our
own soul in a right manner, we shall find an Urim
and Thummim there, by which we may ask coun
sel of God himself, who will have this always borne
upon its breastplate.
There is nothing that so debases and enthrals the
souls of men, as the dismal and dreadful thoughts
of their own mortality, which will not suffer them
to look beyond this short span of time, to see an
hour's length before them, or to look higher, than
these material heavens; which though they could
be stretched forth to infinity, yet would the space
be too narrow for an enlightened mind, that will
not be confined within the compass of corporeal di-

AND NATURE OF GOD. 135
mensions. These black opinions of death and the
non-entity of souls (darker than hell itself) shrink
up the free-born spirit which is within us, which
would otherwise be dilating and spreading itself
boundlessly beyond aU finite being: and when
these sorry pinching mists are once blown away, it
finds this narrow 7 sphere of being to give way be
fore it; and having once seen beyond time and
matter, it finds then no more ends nor bounds to
stop its swift and restless motion. It may then fly
upwards from one heaven to another, tUl it be be
yond all orb of finite being, swallowed up in the
1 boundless abyss of divinity, uirsgdvu rrig ouaiag, be
yond aU that which darker thoughts are wont to
represent under the idea of essence. This is that
§s7ov axbrog of which the Areopagite speaks, which
the higher our minds soar into, the more incompre
hensible they find it. Those dismal apprehensions
which pinion the souls of men to mortality, churl
ishly check and starve that noble life thereof, which
would always be rising upwards, and spread itself
in a free heaven: and when once the soul hath
shaken off these, when it is once able to look
through a grave, and see beyond death, it finds a
vast immensity of being opening itself more and
more before it, and the ineffable light and beauty
thereof shining more and more into it ; when it can
rest and bear up itself upon an immaterial centre
oT~immortality within, it will then find itself able
to bear itself away by a self-reflection into the con
templation of an eternal Deity.
For though God hath copied forth his own per
fections in this conspicable and sensible world, ac
cording as it is capable of entertaining them ; yet

336 OF THE EXISTENCE
the most clear and distinct copy of himself could
be imparted to none else but to inteUigible and in-
conspicable natures : and though the whole fabric
of this visible universe be whispering out the no
tions of a Deity, and always inculcates this lesson
to the contemplators of it, ag iyh ireiroirixs b Ssbg, as
Plotinus expresseth it ; yet we cannot understand
it without some interpreter within. " The heavens"
indeed " declare the glory of God, and the firma
ment shows his handy-work," * and the rb yvuarbv
rou Ssou, " that which may be known of God," even
" his eternal power and Godhead," as St. Paul tells
us, t is to be seen in these external appearances :
yet it must be something within that must instruct
us in all these mysteries, and we shall then best
understand them, when we compare that copy
which we find of them within ourselves, with that
which we see without us. The schoolmen have
well compared sensible and intelligible beings in re
ference to the Deity, when they tell us that the
one do only represent vestigia Dei, the other faciem
Dei. We shall therefore here inquire what that
knowledge of a Deity is, which a due converse
with our own naked understandings wiU lead us
into. * Psal. xix. 1. f ft°m- '• 19> 20'

AND NATURE OF GOD. 137
CHAP. II.
How the contemplation of our own souls, and a right reflection up
on the operations thereof, may lead us into the knowledge qfl.
The divine unity and omniscience, 2. God's omnipotence, 3. The
divine love and goodness, 4. God's eternity, 5. His omnipre
sence, 6. The divine freedom and liberty.
J.T being our design to discourse more particular
ly of that knowledge of the Deity that we may
learn immediately from ourselves, we shall observe,
""First, There is nothing whereby our own souls
are better known to us than by the properties and
operations of reason : but when we reflect upon our
own idea of pire"and perfect reason, we know that
our own souls are not it, but only partake of it; and
that it is of such a nature that we cannot denomi
nate any other thing of the same rank with our
selves by ; and yet we know certainly that it is, as
finding from an inward sense of it within ourselves,
that both we and other things else beside ourselves
partake of it, and that we have it xara y!s6s\iv and
not xar oueiav neither do we or any finite thing
contain the source of it within ourselves : and be
cause we have a distinct notion of the most perfect
mind and understanding, we own our deficiency
therein. And as that idea of understanding which
we have within us points not out to us this or that
particular, but something which is neither this nor
that, but total, understanding ; so neither will any
elevation of it serve every way to fit and answer
that idea. And therefore when we find that we
cannot attain to science but by a discursive deduc
tion of one. thing from another, that our knowledge
s

138 OF THE EXISTENCE
is confined, and is not fully adequate and commen
surate to the largest sphere of being, it not running
quite through it, nor fining the whole area of it ;
or that our knowledge is chronical and successive,
and cannot grasp all things at once, but works by
intervals, and runs out into division and multiplici
ty ; we know aU this is from want of reason and
understanding, and that a pure and simple mind
and inteUect is free from aU these restraints and im
perfections, and therefore can be no less than infi
nite. As this idea which we have of it in our own
souls will not suffer us to rest in any conception
thereof which represents it less than infinite: so
neither will it suffer us to conceive of it any other
wise than as one simple being : and could we mul
tiply understandings into never so vast a number,
yet should we be again coUecting and knitting
them up together in some universal one. So that
if we rightly reflect upon our own minds and the
method of their energies, we shall find them to be
so framed, as not to admit of any other than one
infinite source of all that reason and understanding
which themselves partake of, in which they live,
move, and have their being. And therefore in the
old metaphysical theology, an original and uncreat
ed fibmg or unity is made the fountain of aU parti
cularities and numbers which have their existence
from the efflux of its almighty power.
Second, And that is the next thing in which our
own understandings wUl instruct us concerning God,
viz. his eternal power. For as we find avyill and
power within ourselves to execute the results of our
^own reason and judgment, so far as we are not hin
dered by some more potent cause : so indeed we
4

AND NATURE OF GOD. 139
know it must be a mighty inward strength and
force that must enable our understandings to their
proper functions, and that life, energy, and activity
can never be separated from a power of understand
ing. Themore unbodied any thing is, the more
unbounded also is it in its effective power : body
and matter being the most sluggish, inert, and un
wieldy thing that may be, having no power from
itself, nor over itself: and therefore the purest
mmd must also needs be the most almighty life
and jjpirit; and as it comprehends all things, and
sums them up together in its infinite knowledge, so
it must also comprehend them all in its own life
and power. Besides, when we review our own im
mortal souls, and their dependency upon some al
mighty mind, we know that we neither did nor
could produce ourselves ; and withal know that all
that power which lies within the compass of our
selves, will serve for no other purpose than to ap
ply several pre-existent things one to another, from
whence all generations and mutations arise, which
are nothing else but the events of different applica
tions and complications of bodies that were exist
ent before: and therefore that which produced
that substantial life and mind by which we know
ourselves, must be something much more mighty
than we are, and can be no less indeed than omni
potent, and must also be the first architect and hrj-
fMsogybg of all other beings, and the perpetual sup
porter of them.
Third, We may also know from the same prin
ciples, that anjblnugh^loye, every way commensur
ate to that most perfect being, eternally rests in it,
which is as strong as that is infinite, and as full of life

140 OF THE EXISTENCE
and vigour as that is of perfection. And because it
finds no beauty nor loveHness but only in that and
the issues thereof, therefore it never does nor can
fasten upon any thing else. And therefore the di
vinity always enjoys itself and its own infinite per
fections, seeing it is that eternal and stable sun of
goodness that neither rises nor sets, is neither eclips
ed nor can receive any increase of light and beauty.
Hence the divine love is never attended with those
turbulent passions, perturbations, or wrestlings'within
itself, of fear, desire, grief, anger, or any such like,
whereby our love is wont to explicate and unfold
its affection towards its object. But as the divine
love is perpetuaUy most infinitely ardent and potent,
so it is always calm and serene, unchangeable, hav
ing no such ebbings and flowings, no such diversity
of stations and retrogradations as that love hath in
us which ariseth from the weakness of our under
standings, that do not present things to us always
in the same orient lustre and beauty : neither we
nor any other mundane thing (all which are in a
perpetual flux) are always the same. Besides,
though our love may sometimes transport us and
violently rend us from ourselves and from all self-
enjoyment, yet the more forcible it is, by so much
the more it wUl be apt to torment us, whUe it can
not centre itself in that which it so strongly endea
vours to attract to it ; and when it possesseth most,
yet is it always hungry and craving, as Plotinus
hath weU expressed it, irdvrore irkrigourai xai irdvrors
izgsT, ' it may always be filling itself, but, Hke a
leaking vessel, it wUl be always emptying itself
again.' Whereas the infinite ardour of the divine
love, arising from the unbounded perfection of, the

AND NATURE OF GOD. 141
divine being, always rests satisfied within itself, and
so may rather be defined by a ardaig than a xivriatg,
and is wrapt up and rests in the same central unity
in which it first begins. And therefore I think
some men of latter times have much mistaken the
nature of the divine love, in imagining that love is
to be attributed to God, as all other passions are,
rather secundum effectum than affectum : whereas
St. John, who was well acquainted with this noble
spirit of love, when he defined God by it, and calls
him Love, meant not to signify a bare nothing
known by some effects, but that which was infi
nitely such as it seems to be. And we might well
spare our labour, when we so industriously endea
vour to find something in God that might produce
the effects of some other passions in us, which look
rather Hke the brats of hell and darkness than the
lovely offspring of heaven.
Fourth, When we reflect upon all this, which
signifies some perfect essence, as a mind, wisdom,
understanding, omnipotency, goodness, and the
like, we can find no such thing as time or place, or
any corporeal or finite properties which arise indeed,
not ex plenitudine, but ex inopia entitatis ; we may
also know God to be eternal^and omnipresent, not
because he fills either place or time, but rather be
cause he wanteth neither. That which first begets
the notion of time in us, is nothing else but that
succession and multiplicity which we find in our
own thoughts, which move from one thing to ano
ther, as the sun in the firmament is said to walk
from one planetary house to another, and to have
his several stages to pass by. And therefore where
there is no such vicissitude or variety, as there can

142 OF THE EXISTENCE
be no sense of time, so there can be nothing of the
thing. Proclus hath wittily observed that Saturn,
or (as the Greeks called him) Kgbvog, was the first of
the hsoi iirixba(btoi or mundane gods, or/ oirou y'evseig,
sxsi irgoriyeirai ygbvog, because time is necessarily pre
supposed to aH generation, which proceeds by cer
tain motions and intervals. This world is indeed a
great horologe to itself, and is continually number
ing out its own age ; but it cannot lay any sure
hold upon its own past revolutions, nor can it ga
ther up its infancy and old age, and couple them
up together. Whereas an infinitely comprehensive
mind hath a simultaneous possession of its own ne
ver-flitting life ; and because it finds no succession
in its own immutable understanding, therefore it
\ cannot find any thing to measure out its own dura*
I tion. And as time Hes in the basis of all finite life,
whereby it is enabled by degrees to display aU the
virtue of its own essence, which it cannot do at
once ; so such an eternity lies at the foundation of
the divinity, whereby it becomes one " without any
shadow of turning,"* as St. James speaks, without
any variety or multiplicity within himself, of which
all created beings that are carried down in the cur
rent of time partake. And therefore the Platonists
were wont to attribute Ai»» or eternity to God, not
so much because he had neither beginning nor end
of days, but because of his immutable and uniform
nature, which admits of no such variety of concep
tions as all temporary things do : and time they at
tributed to all created beings, because .there is a
yeveaig or constant generation both of and in their
* Jam. 1. 17.

AND NATURE OF GOD. 143
essence, by reason whereof we may call any of
them, as Proclus tells us, by that borrowed expres
sion, 'ivriv xai v'eav ' old and new,' being every mo
ment as it were re-produced, and acting something
which it did not individually before. Though
otherwise they supposed this world, constantly de
pending upon the Creator's omnipotency, might
from all eternity flow forth from the same power
that still sustains it, and which was never less po
tent to uphold it than now it is : notwithstanding
this piece of it which is visible to us, or at least this
scheme or fashion of it, they acknowledged to have
been but of a late date.
Fifth, Now thus as we conceive of God's eter
nity, we may in a correspondent manner apprehend
his omnipresence ; « not so much by an infinite ex
panse or extension of essence, as by an unlimited
power,' as Plotinus hath fitly expressed it, kriirr'eov
h\ xai Hirei^pv aurbv ou toj dhie\irriTu ri rou (Aey'sSoug %
tou agt^ou, dkka ru dire^ikriirru rrjg huvdpewg. For as
nothing Can ever stray out of the bounds, or get
out of the reach of an almighty mind and power ;
so when we barely think of mind or power, or any
thing else most peculiar to the divine essence, we
cannot find any of the properties of quantity mix
ing themselves with it : . and as we cannot confine
it in regard thereof to any one point of the uni
verse, so neither can we well conceive it extended
through the whole, or excluded from any part of
it. It is always some material being that contends
for space : bodily parts wUl not lodge together, and
the more bulky they are, the more they justle for,
room one with another ; as Plotinus teUs us, rdw\v
ivrau^a fAsydku iv oyxu, rd he exei iv huvdpei, ' bodily

144 OF THE EXISTENCE
beings are great only in bulk, but divine essences
in virtue and power.'
Sixth, We may in the next place, consider that free
dom and liberty which we find in our own souls,
which is founded in our reason and understanding ;
and this is therefore infinite in God, because there
is, nothing that can bound the first mind, or disobey
f an almighty power. We must not conceive God
| to be the freest agent, because he can do and pre-
1 scribe what he pleaseth, and so set up an absolute
\ will wrhich shall make both law and reason, as some
\. imagine. For as God cannot know himself to be
I any other than what indeed he is ; so neither can
he wUl himself to be any thing else than what he
' is, or that any thing else should swerve from those
laws which his own eternal nature and understand-
; ing -prescribes to it. For this were to make God
free to dethrone himself, and set up a liberty with
in him that should contend with the royal preroga
tive of his own boundless wisdom.
To be short ; when we converse with our own
souls, we find the spring of all liberty to be nothing
else but reason ; and therefore no unreasonable
creature" can "partake of it : and that it is not so
much any indifferency in our wUls of determining
without reason, much less against it, as the Uberal
election of, and complacency in, that which our
understandings propound to us as most expedient :
I and our, Hberty most appears, when our will most of
j all congratulates the results of our own judgments ;
and then shows itself most vigorous, when either
the particularity of that good, which the under
standing converseth with, or the weak knowledge
that it hath of it, restrains it not. Then is it most

AND NATURE OF GOD. 145
pregnant, and flows forth in the fullest stream, when
its object is most fuU, and the acquaintance with it
most ample : all liberty in the soul being a kind of
liberality in the bestowing of our affections, and the
want or scarce measure of it, parsimoniousness.
And therefore the more the results of our judg
ments tend to an indifferency, the more we find our
wiUs dubious and in suspense what to choose ; con
trary inclinations arising and falling within inter
changeably, as the scales of a balance equally laden
with weighfs ; and all this while the soul's liberty
is nothing else but a fluctuation between uncertain
ties, and languisheth away in the impotency of our
understandings. Whereas the divine understanding
beholding all things most clearly, must needs beget
the greatest freedom that may be ; which freedom,
as it is bred in it, so it never moves without the
compass of it. And though the divine wiU be not
determined always to this or that particular, yet it
is never bereft of eternal light and truth to act by:
and therefore, though we cannot see a reason for
aU God's actions, yet we may know they were
neither done against it, nor without it.

CHAP. III.

How the consideration of those restless motions qf our wills after
some supreme and infinite good, leads us into the knowledge of a
Deity.
VV E shall once more take a view of our own
souls, and observe how the motions thereof lead us
T

146 OF THE EXISTENCE
into the knowledge of a Deity. „ We always find
; a restless appetite within ourselves which craves
for some supreme and chief good, and will not be
satisfied with any thing less .than infinity itself; as
j if our own penury and indigency were commen-
\ surate to the divine fulness : and therefore no ques-
. tion has been more canvassed by all philosophy
\ than this, de summo hominis bono, and all the sects
thereof were anciently distinguished by those
opinions that they entertained de finibus boni etmali,
as Tully phraseth it. But of how weak and dUute
a nature soever some of them may have conceived
that summum bonum, yet they could not so satisfy
their own inflamed thirst after it, We find by ex
perience that our souls cannot live upon that thin
and spare diet which they are entertained with at
their own home ; neither can they be satiated with
those jejune and insipid morsels which this out
ward world furnisheth their table with. I cannot
think the most voluptuous Epicurean could ever
satisfy the cravings of his soul wifh corporeal plea
sure, though he might endeavour to. persuade him
self there' was no better: nor the most quintessen
tial Stoics find an aurdgxeia and dragafcia a self-suf
ficiency and tranquUlity within their own souls,
arising out of the pregnancy of their own mind and
reason; though their sullen thoughts would not suf
fer them to be beholden to a higher being for
their happiness. The more we endeavour to ex
tract an autarchy out of our own souls, the more
we torment them, and force them to feel and sen-
sate their own pinching poverty. Ever since our
minds became so dim-sighted as not to pierce into
that original and primitive blessedness which is

AND NATURE OF GOD. 147
above, our wills are too big for our understandings,
and will believe their beloved prey is to be found
where reason discovers it not: tliey will pursue it
through all the vast wUderness of this world, and
force our understandings to follow the chase with
them : nor may we think to tame this violent appe
tite, or allay the heat of it, except we can look up
ward to some eternal and almighty goodness which
is alone able to master it.
It is not the nimbi eness and agility of our own
reason which stirs up these eager affections within
us, (for then the most ignorant sort of men would
never feel the sting thereof) but indeed some more
potent nature which hath planted a restless motion
within us that might more forcibly carry us out to
itself; and therefore it will never suffer itself to be
controUed by any of our thin speculations, or satis
fied with those airy delights that our fancies may
offer to it : it doth not, it cannot, rest itself any
where but upon the centre of some almighty good,
some solid and substantial happiness ; like the hun
gry child that wiU not be stiUed by all the mother's
music, or change its sour and angry looks for her
smUing countenance ; nothing will satisfy it but
the full breasts.
The whole work of this world is nothing but a
perpetual contention for true happiness, and men
are scattered up and down the world, moving to
and fro therein, to seek it. Our souls, by a natural
science, as it were, feeling their own original, are
perpetually travailing with new designs and contri
vances whereby they may purchase the scope of
their high ambitions. Happiness is that pearl of
price which all adventure for, though few find it.

148 OF THE EXISTENCE
tit is not gold or silver that the earthlings of this
world seek after, but some satisfying good which
they think is there treasured up. Neither is it a
little empty breath that ambition and popularity
soars after, but some kind of happiness that it thinks
to catch and suck in with it.
And thus indeed, when men most of aU fly from
God, they stiU seek after him. Wicked men pur
sue indeed after a deity in their worldly lusts ;
wherein yet they most blaspheme ; for God is not
a mere empty name or title, but that self-sufficient
good wliich brings along with it that rest and peace
which they so much seek after, though they do
most prodigiously conjoin it with something which
it is not, nor can it be, and in a true and real strain
of blasphemy, attribute aU that which God is, to
something else which is most unlike him, and, as
St. Paul speaks of those infatuated GentUes, " turn
the glory of the, incorruptible God into the image
of corruptible man, of birds, and four-footed beasts,
and creeping things." *
God is not better defined to us by our under
standings than by our wills and affections : he is
not only the 'eternal reason, that "almighty mind
and wisdom which our understandings converse
with; but he is also that unstained beauty and su
preme good after which ouFwills are^erp~etuaTly"
aspiring z and wheresoever we find true beauty,

h2ve^n^g^^nessrwe""may sayT" here or tfiere"1s
GocL- And as we cannot understand any thing of
an intelligible nature, but by some primitive idea
we have of God, whereby we are able to guess at

* Rom. i. 23.

AND NATURE OF GOD. 149
the elevation of its being, and the pitch of its per
fection ; so neither do, our wills embrace any thing
without some latent sense of him, whereby they
can taste and discern how near any thing comes to
that self-sufficient good they seek after : and, in
deed, without such an internal sensating faculty as
this is, we should never know when our souls are
in conjunction with the Deity, or be able to relish
the ineffable sweetness of true happiness. Though
here below we know but little what this is, because
we are little acquainted with fruition and enjoy
ment ; we know well what belongs to longing and
languishment, but we know not so well what be
longs to plenty and fulness ; we are well acquaint
ed with the griefs and sicknesses of this inbred
love, but we know not what its health and compla
cencies are.
To conclude this particular, (leydkag sypi xivriasig
h •fyvy/i, the soul hath strong and weighty motions,
and nothing else can bear it up but something per
manent and immutable. Nothing can beget a con
stant serenity and composedness within, but some
thing supreme to its own essence; as if having
once departed from the primitive fountain of its life,
it were deprived of itself, perpetually contesting
within itself and divided against itself: and all this
evidently proves to our inward sense and feeling,
that there is some higher good than ourselves,
something that is much more amiable and desir
able, and therefore must be loved and preferred
before ourselves, as Plotinus hath excellently ob
served, rm ovrav exaarov eptefj/svov rou ayaSou, fioukerai
ixeivo (jbdkkov ri o ianv slivat, &c. ' every thing that de
sires the enjoyment of the first good, would rather

150 OF THE EXISTENCE AND NATURE OF GOD.
be that than what it is, because indeed the nature
of that is much more desirable than its own.' And
therefore the Platonists, when they contemplate
the Deity under these three notions of ro sv, rb ov,
and rb dyaSbv, and question which to place first in
order of understanding, resolve the pre-eminence
to be due to the rb dya&bv, as Simplicius tells us,
because that is first known to us as the architect of
the world, and, we may add, as that which begets
in us this sgunxov ird&og, these strong passionate de
sires whereby all sorts of men, even those that are
rude and illiterate, are first known to themselves,
and, by that knowledge, may know what diminu
tive, poor, and helpless things they are, who can
never be satisfied from themselves, and what an
excellent and sovereign goodness there is above
them which they ought to serve, and cannot but
serve it, or some filthy idol instead of it ; though
this mental idolatry be like that gross and external
in this also, that howsoever we attend it not (and
so are never the more blameless) yet our worship
of these images -and pictures of goodness rests not
there, it being some all-sufficient good that (as we
observed before) calls forth and commands our a-
Idorations.

DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE, &C. 151
CHAP. IV.
DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE CONSIDERATION OF
THE DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES.
1. That all divine productions are the free effluxes qf omnipotent
love and goodness. The true notion qf God's glory ; what it is.
JHfen very apt to mistake in this point. God-needs not the hap
piness or misery of his creatures to make himself glorious, God
does most glorify himself by communicating himself: we most
glorify God when we most partake qf him, and resemble him
most.
W E have seen how we may rise up to the under
standing of the Deity by the contemplation of our
owiv souls : and now it may seem worthy of the
best attention of our minds to consider some de
ductions and inferences which naturally flow from
the true knowledge of the divine nature and attri
butes.
And the first is this, That all divine productions
or operations that terminate in something without
him, are nothing else but the free effluxes of his own
omnipotent love and goodness, which always moves
along with them, and never wiUingly departs from
thgrn. When God made^the world, it was not out
of a piece of self-interest, as if he had had any de
sign to advance himself, or to enlarge his own stock
of glory and happiness ; for what beauty or perfec
tion can be in this whole creation which was not be
fore contained in himself as the free fountain of ali?
or what could he see out of himself that could
add any thing to his own stature, which he found
not already in himself? He made not the world
ygiiag evixev, i'va npdg irepg re av^ganrtuv xai zsgbg ^suv

152 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
dkkuv xui haipbvwv xagirolro, ohv irgbaohbv r/ra uiro rrjg
yev'eaeug o\vu\hevog, ' It was not for any need, or that
he might gain some honour to himself from men,
archangels or angels, as the tribute or rent to be
paid to him from his creation,' as Clemens Alexan-
drinus observes out of Plato.* Though I know
not how it comes about that some bring in God as
it were casting about how he might erect a new
monopoly of glory to himself, and so to serve this
purpose made the world, that he might have a stock
of glory here going in it. And I doubt we are
wont sometimes to paint him forth too much in the
Hkeness of corrupt and impotent men, that by a
fond ambition please themselves and feed their lust
ful fancies with their own praises chanted out to
them by their admirers ; and another whUe as much
sport themselves and applaud their own greatness,
to hear what hideous cries the severity of their own
power can extort from those they have a mind to
make miserable.
We all speak much of the glory of God, and en
tertain a common belief oF~that being the^bnly end
for which we were all made : and I wish we were
aU more inwardly moved with a true and lively
sense of it. There can be nothing else that either
God could propound to himself, or that we ought,
if it be rightly understood. But we must not think
that God, who is infinite fulness, would seek for
any thing without himself: he needs neither our
happiness nor our misery, in order to make himself
: more ulustrious ; but, being full in himself, it was
\ his good pleasure to communicate of his own ful-
* Strom. 5.

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 153
ness : for, as Proclus hath well observed,* irZg iy«g
ggw fik'eirei voug av, &c. * How can he look without
himself, seeing he is a pure mind, always encom
passed with its own glorious brightness ? But the
good pleasure of his will being filled with bounty,
and the power of a most gracious Deity proceeding
from it, HberaUy dispensed themselves, and distri
buted those gifts of grace that might make all cre
ated being the more to resemble that archetypal
idea of themselves.' Accordingly Timaeus Locrus
represents the Creator of the world in the same
strain that Moses did, ug dyaZppsvog xai slpgav^sig, de
lighted as it were in himself to see that all things
that he had made Were good, and some things ex
ceeding good. God himself being infinitely full,
and having enough and to spare, is always over
flowing ; and goodness and love issue forth from
him by way of redundancy. When he made the
world, because there was nothing better than him
self, he shadowed forth himself therein, and, as far
as might be, was pleased to represent himself and
manifest his own eternal glory and perfection in it.
When he is said to seek his own glory, it is indeed
nothing else but to ray and beam forth, as it were,
his own lustre ; as R. Jehuda in his book Cosri hath
glanced at it, is-uoi my Svx S^uon ti^k m« ymi -roan
gloria ha?c scintilla est lucis divina?, cedens in utilita
tem populi ejus in terra ejus.
God does then most glorify and exalt himself in
the most triumphant way that may be od extra or
out oFJEmselfj if I may so phrase it, when he most
6F all communicates himself, and when he erects

Lib. IV. in Timseum.
U

154 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
such monuments of his own majesty, wherein his
ISwnTove and goodness may Hve and reign.
"And we then most of all glorify him, when we
partake most of him, when our serious endeavours
of a true assimilation to him, and conformity to his
image, declare ffiatTwe think nothing better than
he is, and are therefore most ambitious of being one
with him, by a universal resignation of ourselves
unto him.
This is his glory in its lowest humiliation, while
it beams forth out of himself; and our happiness
in its exaltation, which heaven never separates nor
divides, though earth doth. His honour is his love
and goodness in paraphrase, spreading itself over
all those that can or do receive it; and this he loves
arid cherishes wheresoever he finds it, as something
of himself therein.
Thus I should leave this particular, but that being
gone so far in it, it may be worth the whUe to take
notice of three things wherein God most of all glo
ries and takes the greatest complacency, in refer
ence to creatures, as they are laid down by Proclus,
* fLbpgaivsrai fuv irgurag xara rrjv svhov saurou vbriatv,
dirkrj xaidvs(/,irohiaruxaid^tgba iregtQokrj irav rb vorjrbv irs-
gika/jjQavouari, ' The first, and chiefest, is concurrent
with his own internal vision of aU things in that
simple, expedite and simultaneous comprehension
of aU things inteUigible, piercing through all their
essences, and viewing them all in himself, he is de-
Hghted therein, as seeing how his own glory can
display and imitate itself in outward matter.' - The
second is, hid rnv iirirrjheibrrira rm urroheyptmon rriv 'i&
* Lib. IV. in Tiir. I.
7

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 155
irgo'iouaav aurou rSv dya&avyjogriyittv; 'in the aptness
and capacity of those things which he hath made
to receive a further influence of good, ready to
stream forth from himself into them. The last is,
b rrj i% dy{poiv auppsrgia, xai uaavsi aupirvoia xai auf/>-
paivia, ' in the sweet symmetry of his own forms
with this capacity, and as it were the harmonious
conspiration and symphony of them, when his own '
Hght pleasantly plays upon those well tuned instru
ments which he hath fitted to run the descants of
his own goodness upon.' And therefore it becomes
us whom he hath endued with vital power of action,
aMin "some sense a self-moving life, to stir up his
good gifts within ourselves ; and, if we would have
himVtake pleasure in us, to prepare our own souls
more"arici more to receive of. his liberality, .'iva f«?
agyjj sig h[bdg jf row Jhou hbaig, that the stock which he
is pleased to impart to us may not lie dead within
us. And this is the appHcation which he makes of
this particular.

CHAP. V.

A SECOND DEDUCTION.

2. Tliat all things are supported and governed by an almighty
wisdom and goodness, An answer to an objection made against
the divine providence from an unequal distribution qf things here
below. Such quarrelling with providence ariseth from a pedan
tic and carnal notion qf good and evil.
±N the next place, we may, by way of further de
duction, gather, That that almighty wisdom arid good- 1

156 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
ness which first made all things, doth also perpetually
conserve and govern them; extending themselves
through the whole fabric, and seating themselves in
every finite essence, tvu pr} puybvra rb Seiov rekeug
draxra y'evnrat, (as the same philosopher expresseth
it) 'lest, straggling and falling off from the Deity,
they should become altogether disorderly,' relapsing
and sHding back into their first chaos. As in all
motion there must be some first mover, from whence
the beginning and perpetuation of all motion is de
duced : so in beings there must be some first es
sence upon which all other must constantly depend.
And therefore the Pythagorean phUosophy was
wont to look upon these v'ea hnpmugyriyjara, as they
call this production of every thing that is not truly
divine, wg dei iv yev'eaet, as being always in fieri. For
as no finite thing can subsist by its own strength,
or take its place upon the stage of space without
the leave of an almighty and supreme power : so
neither can it remain here without licence and as
sistance from it. The Deity indeed is the centre
of all finite being, and entity itself, which is self-
sufficient, must of necessity be the foundation and
basis of every one of these weak essences, which
cannot bear up themselves by any central power of
their own ; as we may also be almost assured of,
from a sensible feeling of all the constant muta
tions and impotency which we find both in ourselves
and all other things.
And as God thus preserves all things, so he is
continually ordering and disposing aU things in the
best way, and providing so as may be best for them.
He did not make the world as a mere exercise of
his almighty power, or to try his own strength, and

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 157
then throw it away from himself without any fur-( 'f-7%
ther attention to it ; for he is that omnipresent Hfelx^..
that penetrates and runs through aU things, con-i
taining and holding all fast together within him
self; and therefore the ancient philosophy was
wont rather to say, that the world was in God, than
that God was in the worldT~TletilHTuoTiook with-
out HmieTFtcT search for some solid foundation that
might bear up this weighty building, but indeed
reared it up within him, and spread his own omni-
potency under it and through it : and being cen
trally in every part of it, he governs it according
to the prescript of his own unsearchable wisdom
and goodness, and orders aU things for the best.
And this is one principal orthodox point the Stoics
would have us to believe concerning providence,
on irdvra uir dgiarou vou yiverai, ' that all things are
here done in this world by the appointment of the
best mind.'
And now, if any should quarrel with the unequal
djsjtribjution of things here, as if rather some blind
fortune had bestowed her blessings carelessly tiU
she had no more left, and thereby made so many
standings, rather than some all-knowing mind that
deals forth its bounty in due proportions ; I should
send them to Plutarch and Plotinus to have their
reasons fully satisfied in this point, (for we here
deal with the principles of natural light) all these \
debates arising from nothing but pedantical and|
carnal notions of good and^eyil : as if it were so!
gaUant a thing to be dealing with crowns and scep
tres, to be bravely arrayed, and wallow in that|
which is called the wealth of this world. God in- i
deed never took any such notice of good men as to

158 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
make them all rulers, as the last of those fore-
cited authors tells us ;* neither was it worth
the while, ouhe ^te^irbv roug dvhgag dya&oug dkkov (Ziov
ZSvrag rbv agyjjg uv'Stgairivrig dfieiva), rouroug auruv dgyjov-
rag ehai, * neither is it fit for good men that par
take of a higher life than the most princely is,
to trouble themselves about lording and ruling
over other men ;' as if such a splendid kind of
nothing as this is, were of so much worth. It
may be generally much better for us, while we
are so apt to magnify and court any mundane
beauty and glory, as we are, that providence
should disorder and deface these things, that we
might all be weaned from the love of them, than
that their lovely looks should so bewitch and en
chant our souls as to draw them off from better
things. And I dare say, that a sober mind that
shall contemplate the state and temper of men's
minds, and the confused frame of this outward
world, wul rather admire the infinite wisdom of
a gracious providence in permitting and ordering
that ataxy which is in it, than he would were it
to be beheld in a more comely frame and order.
* riotin. Enn. III. Lib. ii. cap. 9,

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES, 159

CHAP. VI.
A THIRD DEDUCTION.
3. That all true happiness consists in a participation qf God, aris
ing out qf the assimilation and conformity qf our souls to him ;
and, that the most real misery ariseth out qf the apostacy of souls
from God. No enjoyment of God without our being made like
to him. The happiness and misery qf man defined and stated,
with the original and foundation qf both.
VV E proceed now to another deduction or infe
rence, viz. That all true happiness consists in a par
ticipation of God, arising out of the assimilation and
conformity of our souls to him ; and, that the most
real misery ariseth out of tlie apostacy of souls from
God. And so we are led to speak of the rewards
and punishments of the life to come, pra?mium and
poena, vssn "w» as the Jewish writers are wont to
express them : and it will not be any hard labour
from what hath been said, to find out the original
and nature of both of them ; and though perhaps
we cannot dive into the bottom of them, yet we
may go about them, and tell how in a general way
to define and distinguish them.
Happiness is nothing else, as we usuaUy describe
it to ourselves, but the enjoyment of some chief
good : and therefore the Deity is so boundlessly
happy, because it is every way one with its own
immense perfection ; and every thing so much the
more feehngly Hves upon happiness, by how much
the more it comes to partake of God, and to be
made like to him : and therefore the Platonists well
defined it to consist in idea boni. And, as it is im-

\

160 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
possible to enjoy happiness without a fruition of
God ; so it is impossible to enjoy him without an
assimilation and conformity of our natures to him
in a way of true goodness and godlike perfection.
It is a common maxim of Socrates, (a>i xa^agu xa§-
agou ipdirrea^ai jtwj ou Ssfitrbv rj, ' it is not lawful for
any impure nature to touch pure divinity.' For we
cannot enjoy God by any external conjunction
with him : divine fruition is not by a mere kind of
apposition or contiguity of our natures with the di
vine, but it is an internal union, whereby a divine
spirit informing our souls, sends the strength of a
divine life through them ; and as this is more strong
and active,"" so is happiness itself more energetical
within us. It must be some divine efflux running
quite through our souls, awakening and exalting all
the vital powers of them into an active sympathy
with some absolute good, that renders us complete
ly blessed. It is not to sit gazing upon a deity by
some thin speculations ; but it is an inward feeling
and sensation of this mighty goodness displaying
itself within us, melting our fierce and furious na
tures, that would fain be something in contradic
tion to God, into a universal compliance with itself,
and wrapping up our amorous minds wholly into
itself, whereby God comes to be all in all to us.
And therefore, so long as our wills and affections
endeavour to fix upon any thing but God and true
goodness, we do but indeed anxiously endeavour to
wring happiness out of something that will yield no
more than a flinty rock to all our pressing and for
cing. The more we endeavour to force out our af
fections to stay and rest themselves upon any finite
thing, the more violently will they recoil, back again

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. lGl
upon us. It is only a tine sense and relish of God
that can tame and master that rage of our insatiable
and restless desires, which is still forcing us out of
ourselves to seek some perfect good, that which,
from a latent sense of our own souls, we feel our
selves to want.
The foundation of heaven and hell is laid in men's

own souls, in an ardent and vehement appetite after
happiness, which can neither attain to it, nor miss
finally of it and of all appearances of it, without a
quick and piercing sense. Our souls are not like
so many lumps of dead and senseless matter to a
true living happiness ; they are not like these dull
clods of earth which discern not the good or ill sa
vour of those plants that grow upon them. Gain
and loss are very sensibly felt by greedy minds.
The soul of man was made with such a large capa
city as it is, that so it might be better fitted to en
tertain a full and liberal happiness, that the divine
love and goodness might more freely spread itself
in it, and unite it to itself. And accordingly, when
it misseth of God, it must feel so much the more
the fury and pangs of misery, and find a severe
Nemesis arising out of its guilty conscience, which,
Hke a fiery scorpion, will fasten its stings within it.
And thus as heaven, love, joy, peace, serenity, and j
all that which happiness is, buds and blossoms out
of holy and godlike spirits : so also hell and misery
will perpetually spring out of impure minds, dis
tracted with envy, maHce, ambition, self-will, or
any inordinate loves to any particular thing.
This is that 'Ahgaarsiag vopog that Plato speaks of,
that fatal law that is first made in heaven's consis
tory, ' that purity and holiness shall be happy, and
x

162 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
all vice and sin miserable.' Holiness of mind will
be more and more attracting God to itself, as all
vice wiU lapse and slide more and more from him.
\The more pure our souls are, and abstracted from
all mundane things, the more sincerely will they
(endeavour the nearest union that may be with God,
jthe more they will pant and breathe after him alone,
leaving the chase of any other delight. There is
such a noble and free-born spirit in true goodness
seated in immortal natures, as will not be satisfied
merely with innocency, nor rest itself in this mixed
bodily state, though it could converse with bodily
things without sinking to a vicious love of them ;
| but. would always be returning to a more intimate
| union with that Being from whence it came, and
which will be drawing it more and more to itself :
and therefore it seems very reasonable to beHeve
that, if Adam had continued in a state of innocen
cy, he should have been raised by God to a greater
fruition of him, and his nature should have been
elevated to a more transcendent condition. And,
if there was any covenant made with Adam in Pa
radise, I think we cannot understand it in any other
sense but this : the Scripture speaks not of any
other terms between God and man. And the law
of life, which we have spoken of, is eternal and im
mutable; nor does the dispensation of grace by
Christ Jesus at aU abrogate or disannul, but rather
| enforce it: for so we find that the law of Christ,
that which he gave out to all his disciples, was the
law of perfection that carries true happiness along
jjin the sense of it, which, asthe great prince of souls,
|he dispenseth by his eternal Spirit in^JvuQ^way
funto the minds of men.

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. J 63

CHAP. VII.
A FOURTH DEDUCTION.
4. Tke fourth deduction acquaints us with the true notion qf the
divine justice, That the proper scope and design of it, is to pre
serve righteousness, to promote and encourage true goodness.
That it does not primarily intend punishment, but only takes it
up as a mean to prevent transgression. True justice never sup
plants any that itself may appear more glorious in their ruins.
How divine justice is most advanced.
AN the fourth place, we may further collect how
to state rightly the notion of the divine justice, the
scope whereof is nothing else but to assert and
establish eternal law and right, and to preserve the
integrity thereof ; it is no design of vengeance,
which, though God takes on wicked men, yet he
delights not in it. The divine justice first pre
scribes that which is most conformable to the di
vine nature, and mainly pursues the conservation
of righteousness. We would not think him a good!
ruler that should give out laws to ensnare his sub
jects, with an even indifferency of mind whether his
laws be kept, or punishment suffered ; but such a
one who would make the best security for right and
equity by wholesome laws, and annexing jDumsb-
' ments as a mean to prevent transgression, and not
to manifest severity. The proper scope of justice
seemsToTDe nothing else but the preserving and
maintaining that which is just and right : the scope
of that justice which is in any righteous law, is pro
perly to provide for a righteous execution of that
which is just and fit to be, without intending pun-

164 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
ishment ; for to intend that properly and directly,
might rather seem cruelty than justice : and there
fore justice takes not up punishment, but only for
securing the performance of righteous laws, viz.
a either for the amendment of the person transgress-
I ing, or a due example to others to keep them off
| from transgression. For I would here suppose a
good and righteous man, who, in some desolate
place of the world, should have the command of a
hundred more, and himself be supreme and under
no command. He prescribes laws to this company,
makes it death for any one to take away another's
life. But now one proves a murderer, kUls one of
his fellows ; afterwards repents heartily, and is like
to prove useful among the rest of his fellows : they
all are so heartily affected one to another, that there
is no danger, upon sparing this penitent's life, that
any one of them should be encouraged to commit
the like evil. The case being thus stated, it wiU
not seem difficult to conclude that the justice of
this righteous and good commander would spare
this poor penitent : for his justice would have pre
served that life which is lost, and seeing there is
nothing further that it can obtain in taking away
this, it will save this which may be saved ; for it
affects not any blood ; and when it destroys, it is
out of necessity, to take away a destructive person,
and to give example, which in the case stated faUs
not out.
Again, jiistice is the justice of .gftgdjasss, and so
cannot delight to punish ; it aims at nothing more
than the maintaining and promoting the laws of
goodness, and hath always some good end before it,

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 165
and therefore would never punish except some fur
ther good were in view.
True justice never supplants any that itself might
appear more glorious in their ruins ; for this would
be to make justice love something better than right
eousness, and to advance and magnify itself in
something which is not itself) but rather an aberra
tion from itself: and therefore God himself so ear
nestly contends with the Jews about the equity of
his own ways, with frequent asseverations that his
justice is thirsty after no man's blood, but rather
that sinners would repent, turn from their evil ways,
and Hve. And then justice is most advanced, when
the contents of it are fulfilled ; and though it does
not, and wUl not, acquit the guilty without repent
ance, yet the design of it is to encourage innocency,
and promote true goodness.

166 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM "THE

CHAP. VIII.

THE FIFTH AND LAST DEDUCTION.
5. That seeing there is such an intercourse and society, as it were,
between God and men, therefore there is also some law between
them, which is the bond qf all communion. The primitive rules
qf God's economy in this world, not the sole results qf an abso
lute will, but the sacred decrees qf reason and goodness. God
could not design to make us sinful or miserable. Of the law qf
nature embosomed in man's soul. How it obliges man to love and
obey God, and to express a godlike spirit and life. in this world.
All souls the offspring qf God ; but holy souls manifest tluiik-
selves lo be, and are more peculiarly, the children qf God. .
JL HE former deduction leads me to another akin
to it, which shall be my last, and it is that which
Tully intimates in his De Legibus, viz. That seeing
there is such an intercourse and society as it were be
tween God and men, therefore there is also some law
between them, which is the bond of all communion.
God himself, from whom all law takes its rise and
emanation, is not exlex and without all law, nor, in
a sober sense, above it. Neither are the primitive
rules of his economy in this world the sole results
, of an absolute will, but the sacred decrees of rea-
J son and goodness. I cannot think God to be so
unbounded in his legislative power, that he can
make every thing law, both for his own dispensa
tions and our observance, that we may sometime
imagine. We cannot say, indeed, that God was
absolutely determined from some law within him
self to make us ; but I think we may safely say,

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 167
when he had once determined to make us, he could
neither make us sinful, seeing he had no idea nor
shadow of evU within himself, nor wrap up those
dreadful fates within our natures, or set them over
us, that might arcana inspiratione (as some are
pleased to phrase it) secretly work our ruin, and si
lently carry us on, making use of our own natural
infirmity, to eternal misery. Neither could he de- 1
sign to make his creatures miserable, that so he \
might show himself just. These are rather the by- '
ways of cruel and ambitious men, that seek their
own advantage in the mischiefs of other men, and
contrive their own rise by their ruins : this is not
divine justice, but the cruelty of degenerated men.
But, as the divinity could propound nothing to
itself in the making of the world, but the commu
nication of its own love and goodness ; so it can
never swerve from the same scope and end in the
dispensation of itself to it. Neither did God so
boundlessly enlarge the appetite of souls after some
all-sufficient good, that so they might be the more
unspeakably tortured in the missing of it ; but that
they might more certainly return to the original of
their beings. And such busy-working essences as
the souls of men are, could neither be made as dull
and senseless of true happiness as stocks and stones J
are, neither could they contain the whole sum andf
perfection of it within themselves : therefore they'
must also be informed with such principles as might
conduct them back again to him from whom they
first came. God does not make creatures," for the
mere sport of his almighty arm, to raise and ruin,
and toss up and down at mere pleasure. No, that
euhoxia or good pleasure of that will that made them

168 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE
is the same still, it changes not, though we may
change, and make ourselves incapable of partaking
the blissful fruits and effects of it.
And so we come to consider that law embosomed
in the souls of men which ties them again to their
Creator, "arid this iT called the law of nature; which
indeed is nothing else but a paraphrase or comment
upon the nature of God, as it copies forth itself in
the soul of man.
Because God is the first mind and the first good,
propagating an imitation of himself in such immor
tal natures as the souls of men are ; therefore ought
the soul to renounce all mortal and mundane things,
and preserve its affections chaste and pure for God
himself; to love him with a most universal and un
bounded love ; to trust in him and reverence him ;
to converse with him in a free and cheerful manner,
as one " in whom we live, and move, and have our
being ;"* being perpetuaUy encompassed by him,
and never moving out of him ; to resign all our
ways and wiUs up to him with an equal and indif
ferent mind, as knowing that he guides and governs
aU things in the best way ; to sink ourselves as low
in humility, as we are in self-nothingness.
And because all those scattered rays of beauty
and loveliness which we behold spread up and down
over all the world^se only the emanations of that
inexhausted light which js above ; therefore should
we love them all in that, and climb up always by
those sunbeams unto the eterha| Father of lights :
we should look upon him, and take from him the
pattern of our lives, and always eyeing him, should
* Acts xvii. 28.

DIVINE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES. 169
dydkfAara Seia rexraiveiv, &c. (as Hierocles speaks) \
' poHsh and shape our souls into the clearest resem- }
blance of him ;' and in all our behaviour in this f
world (that great temple of his) deport ourselves
decently and reverently, with that humility, meek
ness, and modesty, that becomes his house. We '
should endeavour more and more to be perfect, as
he is ; in all our dealings with men, doing good,
showing mercy and compassion, advancing justice
and righteousness, being always full of charity and
good works ; and lo6^ upon ourselves as having
nothing to do here but\p display and blazon the
glory of our heavenly Father, and frame our hearts
and lives according to that pattern which we behold
in the mount of a holy contemplation of him. Thus
we should endeavour to preserve that heavenly fire
of the divine love and goodness (which issuing
forth from God centres itself within us, and is the
protoplastic virtue of our being) always alive and
burning in the temple of our souls, and to sa
crifice ourselves back again to him. And, when
"we" rumTtliis "royal law arising but of the heart of
eternity, then shall we here appear to be "the chil
dren of God,"* when he thus lives in us, as our
Saviour speaks. And so we shall close up this par- j
ticular with that high privilege which immortal I
souls are invested with : they are all thejaffspringf
of God, for so St. Paul allows the heathen poet to
calTtKem :t they are all royally descended, and
have no father but Go JTu^seTfT being originally
formed into his image and likeness ; and when they
express the purity and holiness of the divine life in
* Matt. v. 15. f Acts. xvij. 28.

170 DEDUCTIONS AND INFERENCES FROM THE, &C.
being perfect as God is perfect, then they manifest
themselves to be his children.* And Christ en-
courageth men to seek and pray for the Spirit,t
(which is the best gift that God can give to men)
because he is their heavenly Father, much more
bountiful and tender to aU helpless souls that seek
to him, than any earthly parent, whose nature is
degenerated from that primitive goodness, can be
to his children. But those apojrtate„_§piats that
know not to return to the original of their beings,
but implant themselves into some other stock, and
seek to incorporate and unite themselves to another
line by sin and wickedness, cfekt themselves off from
this divine privUege, and lose trWr own birthright;
they do peraQaiveiv elg dkko y'evog, (if I may borrow
that phrase) and lapse into another nature. All
this was well expressed by Proclus, t iraaai ¦J/uylai
SeSiv iraihsg, akk' ou iraaai rbv sauruv iir'syvaaav Sebv at
he iiriyvouaai xai rnv bpoiav ekbpevai Zprjv, xukouvrui
SeSiv iraihsg, ' all souls are the children of God, but
all of them know riot their God ; but such as
know him and live like to him, are called the chil
dren of God.'

CHAP. IX.

AN APPENDIX CONCERNING THE REASON OF POSITIVE
LAWS.
JjUT here, as an appendix to the two former de
ductions, it may be of good use to inquire into the
* Matth. v. 48. f Mattb. vii. 11. f Lib. IV. in Timieum.
4

CONCERNING THE REASON OF POSITIVE LAWS. 171
reason of such laws as we call positive, which God
hath in all times, as is commonly supposed, enjoin
ed obedience to ; which are not the eternal dictates
and decretals of the divine nature communicating
itself to immortal spirits, but rather deduce their
original from the free will and pleasure of God.
To solve this difficulty, that of St. Paul may seem
a fit medium, who teUs us, " The law was added
because of transgression ;"* though I doubt not
but he means thereby the moral law, as well as any
other. The true intent and scope of these positive
laws, (and it may be of such an external promul
gation of the moral) seems to be nothing else but
this, to secure the eternal law of righteousness from
transgression. As the Jews say of their decreta
sapientum, that they were min"? T13 ' a hedge
to the law ;' so we may say of these divine decre
tals, they were but cautionary and preventive of
disobedience to that higher law : and therefore St.
Paul teUs us why the moral law was made such a
political business by an external promulgation, &c.
not so much because of righteous men, in whom
the law of nature Hves, who perform the rd tou
vbpov without any outward law, but it was given
"for the lawless and disobedient," &c.t And
therefore 1 doubt not but we may safely conclude,
that God gave not those positive laws merely pro
imperio, if I may use that expression ; it was not
merely to manifest his absolute dominion and sove
reignty, as some think, but for the good of those
that were enjoined to obey ; and this belief Moses
endeavours almost throughout the whole book of
* Gal. iii. 19. f 1 Tim. i. 9.

172 CONCERNING THE REASON OF POSITIVE LAWS.
Deuteronomy to strengthen the Israelites in : and
therefore God was so ready upon aU occasions to
dispense with these laws, and requires the Jews to
omit the observance of them, when they might
seem to justle with any other law of moral duty
or human necessity, as may be observed in many
instances in scripture.
But, for a more distinct unfolding of this point,
we may take notice of this difference in the notion
of good and evU, as we are to converse with them.
Some things are so absolutely, and some things are
so only relatively. That which is absolutely good,
is every way superior to us, and we ought always
to be commanded by it, because we are made under
it : but that which is relatively good to us, may
sometime be commanded by us. Eternal truth and
righteousness are in themselves perfectly and abso
lutely good, and the more we conform ourselves to
them, the better we are. But those things that are
only good relatively and in order to us, we may say
of them, that they are so much the better, by how
much the more they are conformed to us, I mean,
by how much the more they are accommodated and
fitted to our estate and condition, and may be fit
means to help and promote us in our pursuit of some
higher good : arid such indeed is the matter of all
positive laws, and thejymbolical or ritual partjjf
religion. And, as we are made for the former, viz.
what is~absolutely good, to serve that ; so are these
latter made for us, as our Saviour hath taught us,
when he tells us that " the sabbath was made for
man, and not man for the sabbath :"* and, as sin-
* Mark. ii. 27.

OF THINGS ABSOLUTELY GOOD, &C. 173
cere and real Christians grow up towards true per
fection, the less need have they of positive pre
cepts or external helps. Yet I doubt it is nothing
else but a -waxitonfastus and proud temper of spirit
in our times that makes so many talk of being above
ordinances, who, if their own arrogance and pre
sumption would give them leave to lay aside the
flattering glass of their own self-love, would find
themselves to have most need of them.
What 1 have observed concerning the things ab
solutely good, I conceive to be included in that
D^oViy pis mentioned Dan. ix. 24. " everlasting
righteousness," which the prophet there saith should
be " brought in" and advanced by Messiah : this
htxatoauvn almiog is the righteousness which is of an
eternal and immutable nature, as being a conform
ity with eternal and unchangeable truth. For there
is a righteousness which thus is not eternal, but po
sitive, and at the pleasure of God that dictates it :
and such was the righteousness which Christ said
" it became him to fulfil" when he was baptized ;*
there was no necessity that any such thing should
become due. But the foundation of this everlast
ing righteousness is something unalterable. To
speak more particularly, That the highest good
should be loved in the highest degree ; that de- .
pendent creatures, that borrow all they have from
God, should never glory in themselves, or admire
themselves, but ever admire and adore that unbound
ed goodness which is the source of their being, and
all the good they partake of; that we should al
ways do that which is just and right, according to
* Matt. iii. IS.

174 HOW OUR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD COMES TO BE
the measure we would others should do with us :
these, and some other things which a rectified rea
son will easily supply, are immutably true and
righteous ; so that it never was nor can be true,
that they are unnecessary. And whoso hath his
heart moulded into a delight in such a righteous
ness and the practice thereof, hath this eternal right
eousness brought into his soul, which righteous
ness is also true and real, not like that imaginary
external righteousness of the law, in which the
Pharisees boasted.

CHAP. X.

The conclusion qf this treatise, concerning the existence and nature
' of God, showing how our knowledge qf God comes to be so im
perfect in this state, while we are here in this terrestrial body.
Two ways observed by Plotinus, whereby this body does preju
dice the soul in her operations. That the better philosophers and
more contemplative Jews did not deny the existence qf all kind
qf body in the other state. Wliat meant by Zoroaster's i/Sukov
•\[/u%?J£. What kind qf knowledge qf God cannot be attained to
in this life. What meant by flesh and blood, 1 Cor. xv. 50.
X OR the concluding of this discourse, as a man
tissa to what hath been said, we shaU a little consi
der how inconsistent a thing a perfect knowledge
of God is with this mundane and corporeal state
in which we are here. " While we are in the body,

SO IMPERFECT IN THIS STATE. 175
we are absent from the Lord,"* as St. Paul speaks,
and that, I think, without a mystery : such bodies
as ours are, being fitted for an animal state, and
pieces of this whole machina of sensible matter, are
perpetuaUy drawing down our souls, when they
would raise up themselves by contemplation of the
Deity ; and the caring more or, less for the things of
this body, so exercises the soul in this state, that it
cannot attend upon God dirsgiardaraig without distrac
tion. In the ancient metaphysics, such a body as
this which we carry about us, is called dvrgov, arnkaiov,
&c. ' the dark den and sepulchre in which souls are
imprisoned and entombed,' with many other expres
sions of the like importance ; and Proclus tells us
that the commoration of the soul in such a body as
this, is, according to the common vote of antiquity,
nothing else but xaratfxnvaaig iv irshiai kn^nSt ' a dweU-
ing or pitching its tabernacle in the valley of obli
vion and death.' But Plotinus, t in his irsgi rrjg slg
rd ad/para xuSbhou rrjg i^uy/is, seems not to be easily
satisfied with aUegorical descriptions, and therefore,
searching more strictly into this business, tells his
own and their meaning in plainer terms, that this
body is an occasion of evil to the soul two ways ;
1. on rb i\/jirhhiov irgbg rag vorjaeig yivsrai, as it hinders
its mental operations, presenting its idola specus
continually to it : 2. on nhovav xai iirStupiuv xai ku-
iruv iripirknaiv aurrjv, as it caUs forth its advertency
to its own passions, which whUe it exerciseth it
self about too earnestly, it faUs into a sinful inor
dinacy. Yet did not the Platonists, nor the more contem-
* 2 Cor. v. 6, f En'1, Iv> ^ib. viii.

176 HOW OUR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD COMES TO BE
plative Jews, deny the existence of aU kind of bo
dy in the other state, as if there should be nothing
residing there but naked souls totaUy divested of
all corporeal essence ; for they held that the soul
should in the other world be united with a body,
not such a one as it did act in here, which was not
without disturbance, but such as should be most
agreeable to the soul, which they called irvsupan-
xbv oy/ipa rrjg -^uy/ig, ' the spiritual vehicle of the
soul,' and by Zoroaster it was called s'ihukov 4'VXSih
* a kind of umbra or aereal mantle in which the
soul wraps herself,' which, he said, remained with
her in the state of glory, "Etrn xai slhuka u,sgig sig rb-
irov dfjitpipdovra' and in the Jewish language it is
nwsn iffiabn indumentum quoddam interius, as Gaul-
min hath observed in his De Vita et Morte Mosis.
But to return ; the Platonists have pointed out a
threefold knowledge of God, first, xar iiriarnpnh
second, xara vbnaiv, lastly, xard iragouaiav and this
last they affirmed to be unattainable by us, it being
that ineffable Hght whereby the Divinity compre
hends its own essence, penetrating all that immen
sity of being which itself is. The first may be at
tained to in this life ; but the second, in its full
perfection, we cannot reach in this life, because
this knowledge ariseth out of a blissful union with
God himself, which therefore they are wont to call
iirapnv rou vonrou, ' a contact of intellectual being,'
and sometimes uuropdveiav or iirtfiokw auroirnxnv, that
is, that I may phrase it in the scripture words, ' a
beholding of God face to face,'* which is that
cmoti no arcanum facierum the Jewish writers speak
* I Cor. xiii. 12.

SO IMPERFECT IN THIS STATE. 177
of, which we cannot attain to while we continue in
this concrete and bodily state. And so when Mo
ses desired to behold the face of God, that is, as
the Jews * understand it, that a distinct idea of the
divine essence might be imprinted upon his mind,
God told him, " No man can see me, and live ;'* t
that is, no man in this corruptible state is capable
of attaining to this auropdvsia or visio facierum as
Maimonides expounds it, «m »nn a-i«n njna na iw
laiisrsui *)un-oin» 'the understanding ofthe living man,
who is compounded of body and soul, is utterly un
able clearly to apprehend the divine essence, to see
it as it is.' And so St. Paul distinguisheth the know
ledge of this life as taken in this complex sense,
and of the Hfe to come : that " now we see hi sa'oir-
rgou in a glass," which is continually sulfied and
darkened, while we look into it, by the breathing
of our animal fancies, passions, and imaginations
upon it ; and b alviypan darkly : " but we shall see
then irgbaairov irgbg irgbaairov face to face ;" X which is
the translation of the Hebrew phrase o:s Ss cms.
And in the like manner does a Greek philosopher
compare these two sorts of knowledge which the
soul hath of God in this life and in that to come,
Tous eiriarri\hovixoug kbyoug (AuSovg nynasrat avvouaa ru
irargi xai suveanu^bn rnv dkn^eiav rou ovrog, xai iv auyn
xadagu, ' The soul wUl reckon all this knowledge of
God" which we have here by way of science but like
a fable or parable, when once it is in conjunction
with the Father, feasting upon truth itself, and be
holding God in the pure rays of his own divinity.'
I shall conclude all with that which St. Paul ex-
* Maimon. de Fundam. Legis, cap. 1. f Exod. xxxiii. 20. f 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
Z

178 HOW OUR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, &C
pressly tells us, " flesh and blood cannot inherit the
kingdom of God ;" * where, by " flesh and blood,"
he seems to mean nothing else but man in this com
plex and compounded state of soul and body, I
mean corruptible, earthy body : and it was a com
mon periphrasis of this uvSguirog 6 irokug amongst the
Jews, cm iao : in the like sense is o-ag| xai aipita,
" flesh and blood," in those and other places in
the New Testament used, where this phrase occurs,
viz. Matth. xvi. 17- Gal. i. 16. Ephes. vi. 12. Heb.
ii. 14. But in opposition to this gross earthy body,
the apostle speaks of aZpu irvsvpanxov, " a spiritual
body," ver. 44. such as shall " put on incorruption
and immortality," ver. 53. and consequently differ4.
ing from that body which here makes up this com
pounded animal being: and accordingly our Sa
viour speaks of " the chUdren of the resurrection,"
that " they neither marry nor are given in marriage^
nor can they die any more, but are iadyyskoi," t or,
as it is in St. Matthew and Mark, ag dyyskoi rou 9sou,
" as the angels of God ;" artd so the Jewish writers
are wont to use the same phrase to express the state
of glory by, viz. that then good men shall be ias6toa
r-nipn sicut angeli ministerii.
* 1 Cor. xv. 50. f Luke xx. 36.

PROPHECY :

A DISCOURSE

TREATING OF
The nature of prophecy — The different degrees of the prophe
tical spirit. — The difference of prophetical dreams from all
other dreams recorded in Scripture — The difference of the
true prophetical spirit from enthusiastical imposture. — What
the meaning of those actions is that are frequently in Scrip
ture attributed to the prophets, whether they were real or
only imaginary. — The schools of the prophets  The sons, or
disciples of the prophets — The dispositions antecedent and
preparatory to prophecy. — The periods of time when the pro
phetical spirit ceased in the Jewish and Christian churches. —
Rules for the better understanding of prophetical writ.

For prophecy came not in. obi time by the will of man ; but holy men of God spake as
they were moved by the Holy Ghost. 2 Pet. i. 21 .
Tlgnpirns ?J/o» fit-'* •&&•» £<r«p&iyyi«u, xXXir^ix Ss vrmrtt. ixm%tiuiiriis irsgav. tpxuXiji
3' ib Si/ieis \(ft-nn7 ytvitrSxi Seoo, Sirri kvo'm; fux^i^s obhU IvS-nvirix' pinai «
tro&u raur' iQxqftorru, WCi xai f&ovos ogyavev Siou lirrtv rt%wv-, x£ovbp,mv xxi irXvir.
to/aivov xog&ritis ti-t XUTOV'
PHILO JUD. crigi TOW, ris o rwv Stiuv nr^xy/ixraiv x\ngovop.o; .

OF

PROPHECY.

CHAP. I.

That prophecy is the way whereby revealed truth is dispensed and
conveyed to us. Man's mind capable qf conversing and being
acquainted as well with revealed or positive truth, as with na
tural truth. Truths qf natural inscription may be excited in
ns and cleared to us by means qf prophetical influence. That
the Scripture frequently accommodates itself to vulgar appre
hension, and speaks qf things in the greatest way qf conde-

XlAVING spoken to those principles of natural
theology which have the most proper and necessary
influence into life and practice, and are most preg
nant with moral goodness ; we come now to consi
der those pieces off revealed truth) which tend most
of all to foment and cherish true and real piety.
But before we fall expressly into any strict in
quiry concerning them, it may not be amiss to ex
amine how, and in what manner, this kind of truth,
'which depends solely upon the free will of God, is ma-

182 OF PROPHECY
nifested unto mankind; and so treat a little con-i
cerning prophecy, which indeed is the only way
whereby this kind of truth can be dispensed to us.
For though our own reason and understanding carry
all natural truth necessary for practice in any sort,
engraven upon themselves, and folded up in their
own essences more immediately, as being the first par
ticipations ofthe divine mind considered in its own
; eternal nature : yet positive truth can only be made
known to us by a free influx of the divine mind
: upon our minds and understandings. And as it
ariseth out of nothing else but the free pleasure of
the divinity, so without any natural determination
it freely shines upon the souls of men where and
when it Hsteth, hiding its light from them, or dis
playing it forth upon them, as it pleaseth.
Yet the souls of men areas capable of conversing
with it, though it do not naturally arise out of the
fecundity of their own understandings, as they are
with any sensible and external objects. And as
our sensations carry the notions of material things
to our understandings which before were, unac
quainted with them ; so there is some analogical
way whereby the knowledge of divine truth may
also be revealed to us. For so we may call as well
that historical truth of corporeal and material things,
which we are informed of by our senses, truth of
; revelation, as that divine truth which we now speak
>of : and therefore we may have as certain and in
fallible a way of being acquainted with the one, as
I with the other. And God having so contrived the
nature of our souls, that we may converse one with
another, and inform one another of things we knew
not before, would not make us so deaf to his di-

OF PROPHECY. 183
vine voice that breaks the rocks, and rends the(
mountains asunder ; he would not make us so un-
disciphnable in divine things, as that we should not
be capable of receiving any impressions from him
self of those things which we were before unac-J
quainted with. And this way of communicating
truth to the souls of men is originally nothing else '
but prophetical or enthusiastical ; and so we may
take notice of the general nature of prophecy.
Though I would not all this while be mistaken,
as if I thought no natural truth might be by the
means of prophetical influence awakened within us,
and cleared up to us, or that we could not lumine
prophetico behold the ' truths of natural inscrip
tion;' for, indeed, one main end and scope of the
prophetical spirit seems to be the quickening up of
our minds to a more lively converse with those
eternal truths of reason, which commonly lie bu
ried in so much fleshly obscurity within us, that we
discern them not. And therefore the Scripture
treats not only of those pieces of truth which are
the results of God's free counsels, but also of those
which are most akin and allied to our own under
standings; and that in the greatest way of conde
scension that may be, speaking to the weakest sort
of men in the most vulgar sort of dialect : which
it may not be amiss to take a little notice of.
Divine truth hath its humiliation and exinanitiqn,
as well as its exaltation. Divine_ ti'Uth becomes '
manyJjuneTin Scripture incarnate, debasing itself
to assume our rude conceptions, that so it might -
converse" moje^gely with_ us, and infuse its own
divinity into us. God having been pleased herein
to~~manifest himself not more jealous of his own

184 OF PROPHECY.
Tos non habemus aures, sicutJDeus habet linguqm.^
If he should speak in the language of eternity, who
could mi^^Hnirnuri, or interpret his meaning ?
or if he should have declared his truth to us only
in a way of the purest abstraction that human souls
are capable of, how should then the more rude and
illiterate sort of men have been able to apprehend
it ? Truthsis content, when it conies into the world,
to wear ourma^ti^es, to learn our language, to con
form itself as it weft* to our dress and fashions : it
affects not that state or fastus which the disdainful
rhetorician sets out his style withal, non Tarentinis
aut Siculis ha?c scribimus ; but it speaks with the
most idiotical sort of men in the most idiotical way,
and becomes all things to aU men, as every son of
truth should do, for their good. Which was well
observed in that old cabalistical axiom among the
Jews, lumen supernum nunquam descendit sine indu
menta. And therefore, it may be, the best way to
understand the true sense and meaning of the Scrip
ture is not rigidly to examine it upon phUosophical
interrogatories, or to bring if under the scrutiny of
school definitions and distinctions. It speaks not
to us so much in the tongue of the learned sophies
of the world, as in the plainest and most vulgar di
alect that may be. Which the Jews constantly ob
served and took notice of, and therefore it was one
common rule among them for a true understanding
ofthe Scripture, dim 131 fM^l mm rmnrr lex
loquitur lingua filiorum hominum. Which Maimo
nides expounds thus, * quicquid homines ab initio co-
* More Nevocli. par. I. c. 26.

OF PROPHECY. 185
gitationis sua? intelligentid et imaginatione sua pos
sunt assequi, id in Scriptura attribuitur Creatori.
And therefore we find almost all corporeal proper
ties attributed to God in Scripture, quia vulgus ho
minum ab initio cogitationis entitatem non apprehen-.
dunt, nisi in rebus corporeis, as the same author ob-\
serves. But such of them as sound imperfection
in vulgar ears, as eating and drinking, and the like,
these (saith he) the Scripture no where attributes
to him. The reason of this plain and idiotical style
of Scripture it may be worth our farther taking no
tice of, as it is laid down by the forenamed author,
chap. 33. Ha?c causa est propter quam lex loquitur
lingua filiorum hominum, &c. ' For this reason the
law speaks according to the language of the sons
of men, because it is the most commodious and
easy way of initiating and teaching children, wo
men, and the common people, who have not abUity
to apprehend things according to the very nature
and essence of them.' And in chap. 34. Et si per
exempla et similitudines non deduceremur, &c. ' And
if we were not led to the knowledge of things by
examples and simUitudes, but were put to learn
and understand all things in their formal notions
and essential definitions, and were to believe no
thing but upon preceding demonstrations ; then we
may well think that (seeing this cannot be done
but after long preparations) the greater part of men
would be at the conclusion of their days, before
they could know whether there be a God or no,' &c.
Hence is that axiom so frequent among the Jewish
doctors, Magna est virtus velfortitudo prophetarum,
qui assimilant formam cum formante eam, i. e.
/' Great is the power of the prophets, who while
Aa

186 OF PROPHECY.
they looked down upon these sensible and conspi-
cable things, were able to furnish out the notion of
intelligible and inconspicable beings thereby, to the
rude senses of illiterate people.'
The Scripture was not writ for sagacious and ab
stracted minds only, or philosophical heads ; for
then how few are there that should have been
taught the true knowledge of God thereby ? Vidi
filios ccenaculi, et erant pauci, was an ancient Jew
ish proverb. We are not always rigidly to adhere
to the very letter of the text. There is a r-hu and
a -inoa in the Scripture, as the Jewish interpreters
observe. We must not think that it always gives
us formal definitions of things, for it speaks com
monly according to vulgar apprehension : as when
it tells of " the ends of the heaven," * which now
almost every idiot knows hath no ends at all. So
when it tells us that " God breathed into man the
breath of Hfe, and man became a living soul ;" t
the expression is very idiotical as may be, and
seems to comply with that vulgar conceit, that the
soul of man is nothing else but a kind of vital
breath or air: and yet the immortality thereof
is evidently insinuated in setting forth a double
original of the two parts of man, his body and his
soul ; the one of which is brought in as arising up
out of the dust of the earth, the other as proceed
ing from the breath of God himself.
So we find very vulgar expressions concerning
God himself, besides those which attribute sensa
tion and motion to him, as when he is set forth as
" riding upon the wings of the wind, riding upon
* Psal. xix. 6. Matth. xxiv. 31. f Gen. ii. 7.
4

OF PROPHECY. 187 ,
the clouds, sitting in heaven," and the like, which
seem to determine his indifferent omnipresence to
some peculiar place : whereas indeed such pas
sages as these can be fetched from nothing else but
those crass apprehensions which the generality of
men have of God, as being most there, from whence
the objects of dread and admiration most of all
smite and insinuate themselves into their senses, as
they do from the air, clouds, winds, or heaven. So
the state of hell and misery is set forth by such de
nominations as were most apt to strike a terror in
to the minds of men, and accordingly it is called
castus gigantum, the place where all those old giants,
whom divine vengeance pursued in the general de
luge, were assembled together, as it is well observ
ed by a late author * of our own upon Prov. xxi.
16. " The man that wandereth out of the way
of understanding," in ccetu gigantum commordbitur.
And accordingly we find the state and condition
of these expressed, gigantes gemunt sub aquis,
et qui habitant cum iis. Nudus est infernus coram
illo, et nullum est operimentum perditioni, as the vul
gar Latin renders it, " The giants groan under the
waters, and they that dwell with them. Hell is
naked before him, (that is, God,) and destruction
hath no covering." t In like manner our Saviour
sets forth hell as a great valley of fire like that of j
Hinnom, which was prepared with a great deal off
skUl, to torture and torment the devils in. Again
we find heaven set forth sometimes as a place of
continual banqueting, where, according to the Jew
ish customs, thev should lie down in one another's
* Mr. Mede in Diatrib. first part. f Job xxvi. 5, 6.

188 OF PROPHECY.
bosoms at a perpetual feast : sometimes as a para
dise furnished with all kinds of delight and pleasure.
Again, when the Scripture would insinuate God's
seriousness and reality in any thing, it brings him
in as ordering it a great while ago, before the foun
dation of the world was laid, as if he more regard
ed that than the building of the world.
I might instance in many more things of this na
ture, wherein the phUosophical or physical nature
and literal verity of things cannot so reasonably be
supposed to be set forth to us, as the moral and theo
logical. But I shall leave this argument, and now
come more precisely to consider the nature of pro
phecy, by which God flows in upon the minds of
men extrinsically to their own proper operations,
and conveys truth immediately from himself into
them.

CHAP. II.

That the prophetical spirit did not always manifest itself with the
same clearness and evidence. The gradual difference of divine
illumination between Moses, the prophets, and the hagiographi.
A general survey qf the nature qf prophecy properly so called.
Of the joint impressions and operations ofthe understanding and
fancy in prophecy. Of the four degrees of prophecy. The dif
ference between a vision and a dream.
-DUT before we do this, we shall briefly premise
something in general concerning that gradual vari
ety whereby these divine enthusiasms were disco
vered to the prophets of old. The prophetical

OF PROPHECY. 189
spirit did not always manifest itself eodem vigore lu-
minis, with the same clearness and evidence, in the
same exaltation of its light: but sometimes that
light was more strong and vivid, ,sometimes more
wan and obscure ; which seems to be insinuated in
that passage, " God who in time past spake unto
the fathers by the prophets," * mkvpsgug xai irokurgb-
irug. So we find an evident difference of propheti-
cal^ illumination asserted in Scripture between Mo
ses and the rest of the prophets, " and there arose
not a prophet since in Israel like unto Moses, whom
the Lord knew face to face :" t which words have a
manifest reference to that which God himself, in a
more public and open way, declared concerning
Moses, upon occasion of some arrogant speeches of
Aaron and Miriam, who would equalise their own
degree of prophecy to that of Moses. " And the
Lord came down in the pillar of the cloud, and
stood in the door of the tabernacle, and called
Aaron and Miriam ; and they both came forth :
and he said, Hear my words ; if there be a prophet
among you, I the Lord wUl make myself known
unto him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a
dream : my servant Moses is not so, who is faithful
in all mine house ; with him wiU I speak mouth to
mouth, even apparently, and not in dark speeches;
and the similitude of the Lord shall he behold.
Wherefore then were ye not afraid to speak against
my servant Moses ?"t In which words that degree
of divine illumination whereby God made himself
known to Moses seems to be set forth as something
transcendent to the prophetical Ulumination : and
* Heb. Ll. f Deut. xxxiv. 10. $ Numb. xii. 5—8.

190 OF PROPHECY.
so the phrase of the New Testament is wont to
distinguish between Moses and the prophets, as if
indeed Moses had been greater than any prophet.
But besides this gradual difference between Moses
and the prophets, there is another difference very
famous amongst the Jewish writers between the pro*
phets and the hagiographi, which hagiographi were
supposed by them to be much inferior to the pro*
phets. But what this difference between them was,
we shall endeavour to show more fully hereafter.
Having briefly premised this, and glanced at a
threefold inspiration relating to Moses, the prophets,
and the hagiographi ; we shall first of all inquire
into the nature of that which is peculiarly amongst
the Jews called prophetical. And this is thus de
fined to us by Maimonides,* Veritas et quidditas pro
phetia? nihil aliud est quam infiuentia d Deo optimo
maximo, mediante intellectu agente, super facul-
tatem rationalem primb, deinde super facultatem
imaginatricem infiuens, i. e. ' The true essence of
prophecy is nothing else but an influence from the
Deity upon the rational first, and afterwards the
imaginative faculty, by the mediation of the active
intellect.' Which definition belongs indeed to pro
phecy as it is technically so called, and distinguish-
' ed by Maimonides both from that degree of divine
Ulumination which was above it, which the masters
constantly attribute to Moses, and from that other
degree inferior to it, which they call «mpn nn spi
ritus sanctus, that holy Spirit that moved in the
souls of the hagiographi.
But Rabbi Joseph Albot hath given us a more
* More Nev. par. ii. cap. 36. f Maam. iii. cap. 8. De Fundamentis Fidei.

OF PROPHECY. 191/
extensive description, so as to take in also the gra
dus MosaicuS, -wpk na-in run Sy "pan' aurno ysva ysv Kin
¦oi crisa i. e. ' Prophecy is an influence from God
upon the rational faculty, either by the mediation
of the fancy or otherwise : and this influence, whe
ther by the ministry of an angel or otherwise, makes
a man to know such things as by his natural abUi
ties he could not attain to the knowledge of.'
Though here our author seems too much to have
straightened the latitude of prophetical influence,
whereby (as we intimated before) not only those
pieces of divine truth may be communicated to the
souls of men which are not contained within their
own ideas, but also those may be excited which
have a necessary connexion with, and dependence
upon, reason.
But the main thing that we shall observe in this
description is, that faculty or power of the soul
upon which these extraordinary impressions of di
vine light or influence are made ; which in all pro
per prophecy is both the rational and imaginative
power. For in this case they supposed the imagin
ative power to be set forth as a stage, upon which
certain visa and simulacra were represented to their
understandings, just indeed as they are to us in our
common dreams ; only that the understandings of
the prophets were always kept awake and strongly
acted by God in the midst of these apparitions, to
see the intelligible mysteries in them, and so in
these types and shadows, which were symbols of
some spiritual things, to behold the antitypes them
selves : which is the meaning of that old maxim of
the Jews wliich we formerly cited out of Maimo
nides, Magna est virtus seufortitudo prophetarum

192 OF PROPHECY.
qui assimilant formam cum formante eam. But in
case the imaginative faculty be not thus set forth
as the scene of all prophetical illumination, but that
the impressions of things nakedly without any
schemes or pictures be made immediately upon the
understanding itself, then is it reckoned to be the
gradus Mosaicus, wherein God speaks as it were
'* face to face ;" of which more hereafter.
Accordingly R. Albo, in the book before cited
and tenth chapter, hath distinguished prophecy
into these four degrees. The first and lowest of
all is, when the imaginative power is most predo
minant, so that the impressions made upon it are
too busy, and the scene becomes too turbulent for
the rational faculty to discern the true mystical and
anagogical sense of them clearly ; and in this case
the enthusiasms spend themselves extremely in pa
rables, similitudes and allegories, in a dark and ob
scure manner, as is very manifest in Zechariah's, and
many of Ezekiel's prophecies, as also those of Dan
iel : where, though we have first the outward frame
of things dramatically set forth so potently in the
prophet's fancy, as that his mind was not at the
same time capable of the mystical meaning, yet that
was afterwards made known to him, but yet with
much obscurity still attending it.
This declining state of prophecy the Jews sup
posed then principally to have been, and this divine
Ulumination to have been then, setting in the horizon
of the Jewish church, when they were carried cap
tive into Babylon. All which we may take a little more
fully from our author himself* "oirwna pin r«ww vo,
* Book iii. chap. 17.

OF PROPHECY. 193
i. e. ' Every prophet that is of a strong, sagacious,
and piercing understanding, will apprehend the
thing nakedly without any similitude, whence it
comes to pass that all his sayings prove distinct and
clear, and free from all obscurity, having a Hteral
truth in them : but a prophet of an inferior rank
or degree, his words are obscure, inwrapped in rid
dles and parables, and therefore have not a Hteral
but allegorical truth contained in them.' Thus he.
And so afterwards, according to the general opinion
of the Jewish masters, he teUs us that after the
captivity, in the twUight of prophecy, Ezekiel be
gan to speak altogether in riddles and parables ;
and so he himself complains to God, " Ah Lord
God, they say of me, Doth he not speak para
bles?"* The second degree which our forementioned au
thor makes of prophecy is, when the strength of /
the imaginative and rational powers equally balance^
each other. ^
The third is, when the rational power is most pre
dominant ; in which case (as we heard before) the
mind of the prophet is able to strip those things,
that are represented to it in the glass of fancy, of"/
all their materiality and sensible nature, arid ap
prehend them more distinctly in their own naked
essence. The last and highest is the gradus Mosaicus, in
which all imagination ceasejth, and the representa
tion of truth descends not so low as the imaginative
part, but is made in the highest stage of reason
and understanding.
But we shaU hereafter speak more fully concern-
* Ezek. xx. 49.
B b

194 OF PROPHECY.
ing the several degrees of prophetical inspiration,.
and discourse more particularly of the Ruach kak-
kodesh, the highest degree of prophecy or gradus
Mosaicus, and Bath col, or the lowest degree of
prophecy. Seeing then, that generaUy, all prophecy or pro
phetical enthusiasm Hes in the joint impressions
and operations of both these forementioned facul
ties, the Jews were wont to understand that place*
as generaUy decyphering that state or degree of
prophecy by which God woiUd discover himself to
all those prophets that ever should arise up amongst
them, or ever had been, except Moses and the
Messiah. And there are only these two ways de
clared, whereby God would reveal himself to every
other prophet, either in a vision or a dream ;f both
which are perpetually attended with those visa and
simulacra sensibilia as must needs be impressed
upon common sense or fancy, whereby the prophets
seemed to have all their senses waking and exercis
ing their several functions, though indeed aU was
but scenical or dramatical. According to this two
fold way of divine inspiration, the prophet Joel
foretels the nature of that prophetical spirit that
should be poured out in the latter times ;t and we
have the false prophets brought in as endeavouring
apishly to imitate the true prophets of God, in for
tifying their fancies by the power of divination,
that they might talk of dreams and visions when
they came among the people. §
* Numb. xii. 6, &c. ,
f In istis duabus partibus, somnio et visions, continentur omnes prophetia;
gradus. Maimon. in More Nev. Part. II. cap. 36.
t Joel. ii. 28.
§ Jer. xiv. 14. 3

OF PROPHECY. 195
Now for the difference of these two, a dream /
and a vision, it seems rather to lie in circumstan
tials than in any thing essential ; and therefore
Maimonides tells us,* that in a dream a voice was
frequently heard, which was not usual .in a vision.
But? the representation of divine things by some
sensible images or some narrative voice must needs
be in them both. But yet the Jews are wont to
make a vision superior to a dream, as represent
ing things 'more to the life, which indeed seizeth
upon the prophet while he is awake, but it no
sooner surpriseth him than all his external senses
are bound; and so it often declines into a true
dream, as Maimonides, in the place forenamed,
proves by the example of Abraham, where the vi
sion in which God had appeared to him (as it is re
lated Gen. xv. 1.) passed into a sleep. " And when
the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon
Abraham ; and, lo, a horror of great darkness fell
upon him."t Which words seem to be nothing else
but a description of that passage which he had by
sleep out of his vision into a dream, v >
Now these ecstatical impressions, whereby the
imagination and mind of the prophet was thus ra
vished from itself, and was made subject wholly to
some agent, intellect informing it and shining upon
it, I suppose St. Paul had respect to. " Now we
see hi iabirrgou iv aiviy^ari, by a glass, in riddles or
parables ;t for so he seems to compare the highest
Uluminations which we have here, with that con
stant irradiation of the Divinity upon the souls of
men in the life to come : and this glassing of di-
•Maira. Part II. More N«v. cap. 45. f Gen. xv. 12. \ 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

J 96 OF PROPHECY.
vine things by hieroglyphics and emblems in the
fancy which he speaks of, was the proper way of
prophetical inspiration.
For the further clearing of which, I shall take
notice of one passage more out of a Jewish writer,
that is, R. Bechai, concerning this present argu
ment* 'i3i D'sojn -mo rwoa b^vmrh rofi voluit Deus assi-
milare prophetiam reliquorum prophetarum homini
speculum inspicienti, prout innuunt Rabbini nostri
illo axiomate proverbiali, nemo inspiciat speculum
sabbato : illud speculum est vitreum, in quorefkctitur
homini sua ipsius forma et imago per vim reflexivdm
speculi, cum revera nihil ejusmodi in speculo realiter
existat. Talis erat prophetia reliquorum propheta
rum, eo quod contuebantur sacras etpuras imagines et
lumina superna, ex medio splendoris et puritatis isto-
rum luminum realium, visa? sunt illis similitudines, vi
sa? sunt illis tales forma? quotes sunt forma? humana?.
By which he seems to refer to those images of
the living creatures represented in a prophetical
vision to Isaiah and Ezekiel ; but generally inti
mates thus much to us, that the Hght and splendour
of prophetical Ulumination was not so triumphant
over the prophet's fancy, but that he viewed his
own image, and saw like a man, and understood
things after the manner of men in all these pro
phetical visions. * Com. in Num. xii. 6.

OF PROPHECY. 197

CHAP. III.

How tke prophetical dreams did differ from all other kinds qf dreams
recorded in Scripture. This further illustrated out qf several
passages qf Philo Judceus pertinent to this purpose.
W E have now taken a general survey of the na
ture of prophecy, which is always attended, as we
have shown, with a vision or a dream, though in
deed there is no dream properly without a vision.
And here, before we pass from hence, it wiU be ne
cessary to take notice of a main distinction the
Hebrew doctors are wont to make of dreams, lest we
mistake all those dreams which we meet with in Scrip
ture, and take them aU for prophetical, whereas many
of them were not such. For though indeed they were
all Sebirepirra sent by God, yet many were sent as
monitions and instructions, and, had not Jjj.g .true
force and vigour of prophetical dreams in them;
and so~tHey'afe wont commonly fo distinguish be
tween p"W ca^n and"Ki33n o-bn. There are somniavera,
and somnia prophetica : and these Maimonides hath
thus generally characterized,* quando dicitur, Deus
venit ad N. in somnio noctis, id prophetia minime
nuncupari potest, neque vir talis, propheta, &c.
' When it is said in holy writ, that God came to
such a man in a dream of the night, that cannot be
caUed a prophecy, nor such a man a prophet ; for
the meaning is no more than this, that some admo
nition or instruction was given by God to such a
man, and that it was in a dream.' Of this sort he
and the rest of the Hebrew writers hold those
* More Nev. Part II. cap. 41.

198 OF PROPHECY.
dreams to be which were sent to Pharaoh, Nebu
chadnezzar, Abimelech, and Laban; upon which
two last our author observes the great caution of
Onkelos the proselyte, who was instructed in the
Jewish learning by R. Eleazar and R. Joshua, the
most famous doctors of that age, that in his pre
face to those dreams of Laban and Abimelech he
says, et venit verbum d Domino : but doth not say, as
when the dreams were prophetical, et revelavit se
Dominus. Besides, a main reason for which they
deny those dreams to be prophetical is, that they
that were made partakers of them were unsanctified
men ; whereas it is a tradition amongst them, that
the spirit of prophecy was not communicated to any
but good men.
But indeed the main difference between these
two sorts of dreams seems to consist in this, that
such as were not prophetical were much weaker in
their energy upon the imagination than the other
were, in so much that they wanted the strength and
force of a divine evidence, so as to give a plenary
assurance to the mind of him who was the subject
of them, of their divine original ; as we see in those
dreams of Solomon,* where it is said of him, when
he awoke he said, " Behold it was a dream ;" as if
he had not been effectually confirmed from the
energy of the dream itself that it was a true pro
phetical influx.
But there is yet another difference they are wont
to make between them, which is, that these somnia
vera or vouhenxd ordinarily contained in them ona-i
o,l?B3 something that was dgybv or void of reality :
* 1 Kings iii. 5 — IS. an! ix. 2.

OF PROPHECY. 199
as in that dream of Joseph concerning the sun, the
moon, and the eleven stars bowing down to him ;
whereas his mother, which should there have been
signified by the moon, was dead and buried before,
and so incapable of performing that respect to him
which the other at last did. Upon occasion of
which dream the Gemarist. doctors * have framed
this axiom, ^a Dibrfr-wstt vx ?a »3nt6a -ob -«P3K vssp atra
D'Soa ona-i, « As there is no corn without straw, so
neither is there any mere dream without something '
that is dgybv, void of reahty, and insignificant. Ac
cordingly Rab. Albo t hath framed this distinction
between them, rv?a nwajm o^tsa ona-i sba a-fen *'«
vinw pmx yis ' There is no mere dream without some
thing in it that is agybv, but prophecy is, a thing
wholly and most exactly true.'
The general difference between prophetical
dreams and those that are merely nouthetical or
monitory, and all else which we find recorded in
Scripture, PhUo Jud. in his Tract irsgi rou ^eair'spirroug
shai bveigoug, and elsewhere, hath at large laid down.
The proper character of those that were propheti
cal he clearly insinuates to be that ecstatical rapture
whereby in all prophetical dreams some more po
tent cause, acting upon the mind and imagination
of the prophets, snatched them from themselves,
and so left more potent and evident impressions
upon them.
I shall the more largely set down his notion, be
cause it tends to the clearing ofthe business in hand,
and is, I think, much obscured, if not totaUy cor
rupted by his translator Gelenius. His design is
* Berachoth, cap. ix. f Maam. iii. cap. 9.

200 OF PROPHECY.
indeed to show, that Moses taught these several
ways whereby dreams are conveyed from heaven,
that so his subhme and recondite doctrine might be
the better hid up therein ; and therefore sailing be- .
tween Cabbalism and Platonism, he gropes after an
allegorical and mystical meaning in them all. His
first sort of divine dreams he thus defines, rb ukv
irgurov, nv dgypvrog rrjg xtvnaemg §eou, xai inrnyfiuvrog aogd-
rtug rd r)fuv f/iev dhifka, yvugif/jcc hs sauru, ' The first
kind was when God himself did begin the motion
in the fancy, and secretly whispered such things as
are unknown indeed to us, but perfectly known to
himself.' And of this sort he makes Joseph's
dreams, the sense whereof was unknown to Joseph
himself at first, and then runs out into an allegori
cal exposition of them in the book entitled Joseph.
The second kind is this, Trig npsr'egag hiavoiag w?
ruv okuv auyxivoufju'evng ^"Xtf* *°" Ssopognrou paviag dva-
iripirka\jkvng, &c. ' When our rational faculty, being
moved together with the soul of the world, and
filled with a divinely-inspired fury, doth predict
those things that are to come.' In which words,
by his ¦fyuyf} ruv okuv he means the same thing
with that which in a former book about the same
argument he had called ruv okuv vouv ' the mind, of
the universe,' which mingling its influence with our
minds, begets these irgoyvuasig or previsions. And
this is nothing else but that which others of his
tribe call Span "-ot or intellectus agens, which it
seems he understood to be the same with anima
mundi, or « universal soul,' as it is described by the
Pythagoreans and Platonists. Of this sort of dreams
he makes those of Jacobus ladder and of Laban's
sheep. And these kinds of dreams, viz. that where-

OF PROPHECY. 201
in the intellectus agens doth simply act upon our
minds as patients to it, and that wherein our minds
do co-operate with the universal soul, and so under
stand the meaning of the influx, he thus compares
together ; A<o o isgopdvrng rug [uv xara rb irgurov an-
(j,aivb(hbog pavraaiag, rgavug irdvu xai dgthr[kug su^nvuasv,
are tou Qsou ygna^olg aap'eeiv iotxbra hid ruv bveiguv
uirofidkkovrog' rag he xara rb heuregov, ours apbhga rnkau-
yug, ours axoriug dyav, &c. In which words it is to
be observed that he calls the matter of the first sort
of dreams ygn<s^o~ig adp'eaiv iotxbra, which Gelenius
hath mistook whUst he translates it Dei oraculis cer-
tis convenientia. With his leave therefore I should
thus interpret that whole passage, Quare Moses sa-
cer antistes indigitans illas phantasias quce oboriun-
tur secundum primam speciem, eas perspicue etadmo-
durri manifesti indicavit ; (i. e. by adding an expli
cation of those amigmata of Joseph's sun, moon,
stars, and sheaves, which he himself in his dream
understood not ; which explication is not made in
the examples of the second sort) quippe Deus sub
jecit illas phantasias per somnia qua? similes sunt ve-
ris prophetiis, (i. e. r-ninj r-\8i3jb perfecta? prophetia?,
sive '"Ki33n ninSnV somniis propheticis, uti loqui amant
magistri. J Secundi verb generis somnia nee plane
dilucide nee valde obscure indigitavit ; qualia erant
somnia de scala ca?lesti, &c. Now these dreams of
Joseph, though they contained matter of a Hke na
ture to prophetical inspiration, yet were they indeed
not such, and therefore are accounted by aU the
Jewish writers only as somnia vera ; and so our au
thor endeavours to prove very fitly to our purpose,
though indeed upon a mistake which he took out
Cc

202 OF PROPHECY.
of the version of the seventy,* "Xlpw, pi<rh> ip<&
ftiapsusiv hgdlyfiara' rb fi&, yfiw, suS'sag ahtjkoui/rog xai
hhoiuZpProg xai dpvhgSig uifokapfidvbvrog, ou irayimg xai
rrjkavyug oguvrog avdp^ffld ianv, &C. " Joseph Said, -
[t methought we were binding sheaves" tj * That
word [methought] is the language of one that is un-
certain* dubious, and obscurely surmising ; not of
one that is firmly assured, and plainly sees things :
indeed it Very well befits those who are newly awoke
out of a sound sleep, and have scarce ceased to dream,
to say [methought ;] not those who are fully awake,
and behold all things clearly. But Jacob, who was
more exercised in divine things, hath no such word
as [methought] when he speaks of his dream, but,
says he, *' Behold, a ladder set upon the earth, and
the top of it reached up to heaven/' ' &c.§ After the
same manner, almost, doth Maimonides in his More
Nev. distinguish between somniavera m&pFophetica,
Making Jacob's dreams (as all the Jewish writers
do) to be prophetical.
The third kind of dreams mentioned by Philo is
thus laid down by him, *2,uvivrarai hs rb rgirov eihmg,
'bir'orav h> rdig b'lrvmg if iawfe $ ^vyjj ixivovp&vq-, xai ava-
^woSow iuurjjv> xoguftavna' xai iv^touatuaa, huvd^et n°go-
yvuarixvi rd pAkkovra fteairifyi, i. e. ' The third kind is,
when in sleep the soul being moved of itself and
agitating itself, is in a kind of rapturous rage, and
in a divine fury doth foretell future "tilings by a
prophetic faculty.' And then* which is more to our
purpose, he thus sets forth the nature of those fen--
* Though he was a Jew, yet was he trained up amongst the "Greeks, and not
well acquainted With the Hebrew language. .,
•(¦ Which word Is not in the Hebrew.
\ Gen. xxxvii. 7.
§ Gen. xxviii. 12.

OJ PROPHECY. 203
cies which discover themselves in these kiad of
dreams. A/ he xard rb rgirov ethog pavraaiat pakkov
ruv irgor'eguv hnkoupevat, hid rb |3a^t) xai xaraxogsg s%etv
,rb a'iviypa, ihei$rflav xai rijg bveigoxginxtji eirtarrj^rig,
i. e. ' The phantasms which belong to the third kind,
are more plainly declared by Moses than the for
mer ; for, containing a very profound and dark
meaning, they required to the explaining of them a
knowledge of the art of interpreting dreams : as
those dreams of Pharaoh, his butler, and baker, and
of Nebuchadnezzar, who were only amazed and
dazzled with those strange apparitions that were
made to them, but not at all enlightened by them.
These are of that kind whieh Plato sometimes
speaks of, that cannot be understood without a pro
phet ; and therefore he would have some prophet
or wise man always set over this pavnxq. Thus we
have seen these three sorts of dreams according to
PhUo^t he first and last whereof the Jewish doc
tors conjoin together, apd constantly prefer the
Qneiroqritics of them, to the dreamers themselves :
and therefore, whereas they depress the notion of
• them considered in themselves below any degree of
prophecy, yet the interpretation of them they attri
bute to the «nipn rvo or Holy Spirit; except there be
an interpretation of the dream in the dream itself,
so that the mind of the dreamer be fuUy satisfied
both in the meaning and divinity thereof; for then
it is truly prophetical. And thus much for this
particular.

204 OF PROPHECY.

CHAP. IV.
A large account qf the difference between the true prophetical
spirit and enthusiastical impostures. That the pseudo-prophe
tical spirit is seated only in the imaginative powers and faculties
inferior to reason. That Plato and other wise men had a very
low opinion qf this spirit, and qf the gift of divination, and of
consulting the oracles. That the true prophetical spirit seats it
self as well in the rational as in the sensitive powers, and that
it never alienates the mind, but informs and enlightens it. This
further cleared by several testimonies from Gentile and Christian
writers qf old. An account qf those fears and consternations
• which often seized upon the prophets. How the prophets per
ceived when the prophetical influx seized upon them. The dif
ferent evidence and energy qf the true and false prophetical
spirit. j
Jt* ROM what we have formerly discoursed con
cerning the stage of fancy and imagination upon
which those visa presented themselves to the mind
of the prophet, in which he beheld the real objects
of divine truth in which he was inspired by this
means ; it may be easily apprehended how easy a
matter it might be for the DevU's prophets many
times, by an apish imitation, to counterfeit the true
prophets of God, and how sometimes melancholy
and turgent fancies, fortified with a strong power
of divination, might unfold themselves in a sem
blance of true enthusiasms. For indeed herein the
prophetical influx seems to agree with a mistaken
enthusiasm, that both of them make strong impres
sions upon the imaginative powers, and require the
imaginative. Faculty to be vigorous and potent : and
therefore Maimonides tells us that the gift of divi-

OF PROPHECY. 205
nation, which consisted in a mighty force of ima
gination, was always given to the prophets, and that
this and a spirit of fortitude were the main basis of
prophecy ;* Duas istasfacultates,fortitudinis scilicet
et divinationis, in prophetis forlissimas et vehemen-
tissimas esse necesse est, &c. i. e. * It is necessary that
these two faculties of fortitude and divination
should be most strong and vehement in the pro
phets : whereunto if at any time there was an ac
cession of the influence of the intellect, they were
then beyond measure corroborated; in so much
that (as it is well known) it hath come to this, that
one man by a naked staff did prevaU over a potent
king, and most manfully delivered a whole nation
from bondage, viz. after it was said to him " I will
be with thee."t And though there be different
degrees of these in men, yet none can be altogether
without that fortitude and magnanimity. So it was
said to Jeremiah, " Be not dismayed at their
faces," &ct " Behold I have made thee this day
a defenced city ;" and so to Ezekiel, " Be not afraid
of them nor their words :"§ and generaUy in all the
prophets we shall find a great fortitude and magna
nimity of spirit. But by the excellency of the
gift of divining they could on a sudden and in a
moment foreteU future things ; in which faculty
notwithstanding there was great diversity.' Thus
he. It wUl not be therefore any great digression
here, awhile to examine the nature of this false light
which pretends to prophecy, but is not ; as being

* More Nev. Part. II. cap. 38. f Exod- "'• 12-
\ Jer. xvii. 18. § Ezek. ii. 6.

206 , OF PROPHECY.
seated only in the imaginative power, from whence
the first occasion of this delusion ariseth, seeing
that power is also the seat of aU prophetical vision.
For this purpose it wUlnot be amiss to premise that
threefold degree of cognitive influence pointed out
by Maimonides.* Theirs* is whoUy inteUectual,
descending only into the rational faculty, by which
that is extremely fortified and strengthened in the
distinct apprehension of metaphysical truths, from
whence, as he tells us, ariseth the sect of philoso
phers, and contemplative persons. The second is
jointly into the rational and imaginative faculty to
gether, and from thence springs the sect of prophets,
The third into the imaginative only, from whence
proceeds the sect of poHticians, lawyers, and law
givers, whose conceptions only run in a secular
channel, as also the sect of diviners, enchanters,
dreamers, and soothsayers.
We shaU copy out of him a character of some of
this third sort, the rather because it so graphically
delineates to us many enthusiastical impostors. of
our age. His words are these, Hic vero monendus
es, ex tertio genere esse quosdam, quibus phantasia?,
somnia et ecstases, quales in prophetiw visione esse so-
lent, ita mirabiles obveniunt, ut plane sibi persuadeant
se prophetas esse, &c. i. e. ' But here I must inform
thee, that there are some of this third sort who
have sometimes such strange fancies, dreams, and
ecstacies, that they take themselves for prophets,
and much marvel that they have such fancies and
imaginations ; conceiting at last that all sciences
and faculties are without any pains or study infused
* More Nev. Part. II. cap. 37.

OF PROPHECY. 207
into them. And hence it is that they fall into great
confusions in many theoretical matters of no smaU
moment, and do so mix true notions with such as
are merely seeming and imaginary, as if heaven and
earth were jumbled together. AU which proceeds
from the too great force of the imaginative faculty,
and the imbecUity of the rational, whence it is that
nothing in it can pass forth into act.' Thus he.
This delusion then, in his sense of those 'EvegyeO-
pievoi which pretend to revelations, ariseth from
hence, that all this foreign force that is upon them,
serves only to vigorate and impregnate their fancies
andiwiaginatioaas, but does not inform their reasons,
nor elevate them to a true understanding of things
in their coherence and contexture ; and therefore
they can so easUy embrace things absurd to all true
and sober reason: whereas the prophetical spirit
acting principally upon the reason and utiderstand-
mg of the prophets, guided them consistently and
inteUigibly into the understanding of things. But
this pseudo-prophetical spirit being not able to rise
up above this low and dark region of sense or mat
ter, or to soar al«ofl into a clear heaven of vision,
endeavoured always, as much as might be, to
Strengthen itself in the imaginative part :: and
therefore the wizards and false prophets of old and
latter times have been wont always to heighten
their fancies and imaginations by all means pos
sible ; which R. Albo insinuates,* carraa to vi
"wifW r-misn cana© «a" * There are some men whose
imaginative faculty is strong, either by nature, ot
by some artifice which they use to fortify this ima-
* Maam. III. cap. 10.

208 OF PROPHECY.
ginative faculty with ; and for such purpose are the
artifices which witches and such as have familiar
spirits do use, by the help whereof the simUitudes
of things are more easily excited in the imagina
tion.' Accordingly Wierus,* who was a man (as
some think) too well acquainted with these myste
ries, though he himself seems to defy them, speaks
to the same purpose concerning witches, how that,
so they may have more pregnant fancies, they
anoint themselves, and diet themselves with some
such food as they understand from the DevU is
very fit for that purpose. And for further proof
hereof he there quotes Baptista Porta, lib. II. and
Cardan de Subtil, cap. 18. But we shaU not over-
curiously pry any further into these arts.
This kind of divination resting merely in the
imaginative faculty, seemed so exactly to imitate
the prophetical energy in this part of it, that in
deed it hath been by weaker minds mistaken for it,
though the wiser sort of the heathens have happily
found out the lameness and delusiveness bf it. We
have it excellently set forth by Plato in his Timaeus,
where, speaking of God's liberality in constituting
man, he thus speaks of this divination, xai rb pau-
kov npuv, 'iva dkndsiag irrj irgoadirroiro, xarsarnaav iv rov-
tu rb pavrsiov. ixavbv hs anpsTov ug pavnxnv dpgoauvn < Osbg
dvdguirivn h'shuxsv, &c. i. e. ' As for our baser part,
that it might in some sort partake of truth, God
hath seated in it the power of divining : and it is a
sufficient sign that God has indulged this faculty of
divining to the foolishness of men ; for there is no
sober man that is touched with this power of divin-
* Lib. III. cap. 17. De Praestigiis Dajmonum.

OF PROPHECY. 209
ation, unless in sleep, when his reason is bound, or
when by sickness or enthusiasm he suffers some
alienation of mind. But it is then for the wise and
sober to understand what is spoken or represented in
this fatidical passion.' And so it seems Plato, who
was no careless observer of these matters, could no
where find this divining spirit in his time, except
it were joined some way or other cum mentis alie-
natione ; and therefore he looks upon it as that
wliich is inferior to wisdom, and to be regulated by
it : for so he further declares his mind to the same
purpose, "O&c hq xai rb ruv Ugoprjruv y'evog im ratg h-
6'sotg ftavrsiaig xgirag iirixa&tardvai vbyuog, oug fjjdvretg iiro-
vopdfyuai rivsg, &c. that is, ' Wherefore it is a law
that prophets, should be set as it were judges over
these enthusiastic divinations, which prophets some
ignorantly and falsely call diviners.' For indeed
these prophets to whom in his sense he gives fhe
pre-eminence, are none else but wise and prudent
men, who by reason of the sagacity of their under
standings were able to judge of those things which
were uttered by this dull spirit of divination, which
resided only in faculties inferior to reason. So in
his Charmides, E; he (Zoukoib ys, xai rnv (Jbavrixjjv sHvai auy-
yp)gnao\hsv siriarn^nv rou fju'skkovrog saeadai, &c. i. e. ' But,
if you wUl, we wiU grant the gift of divination to be
a knowledge of what is to come : but withal, that
it is fit that wisdom and sobriety should be judge
and interpreter.' But further, that his age was ac
quainted with no other divinations than that which
ariseth from a troubled fancy, and is conceived in
a dark melancholy imagination, he confirms to us
in his Phasdrus, where he rightly gives us the true
etymon of this pavnxn, that it was called so dirb rn~g
Pd

210 OF PROPHECY.
fmviag, ' from rage and fury,' and therefore says it
was anciently called pavtxn. However, he grants
that it happened to many ^teia poiga by divine allot
ment ; yet it was most vulgarly incident to sick and
melancholy men, who oftentimes by the power
thereof were able to presage by what medicines
their own distempers might be best cured, as if it
were nothing else but a discerning of that sympa
thizing and symbolizing complexion of their own
bodies with some other bodies without them. And
elsewhere he tells us that these uidvrstg never, or
very rarely, understood the meaning and nature of
their own visa.
And therefore indeed the Platonists^ generaUy
seemed to reject, or very much to slight aU this
kind of revelation, and to acknowledge nothing
transcendent to the naked reason and understand
ing of man. So Maximus Tyrius in Dissert. III.
&eou hs ybavretov xai dvdguiruv joug (rokpngbv psv elirsiv,
pgdaai hs opug) ygrjpa auyyeveg, ' It is a bold assertion,
yet I shall not doubt to say, that God's oracles and
men's understandings are of a near aUiance.' And
so, according to Porphyrius, * iregi diroy/jg, a good
man is Aibg psydkou bagiarrjg, one that needs not
soothsaying, being familiarly and intimately ac
quainted with God himself.
Likewise the Stoics will scarce allow their wise
man at any time to consult an oracle, as we may
learn from Arrian, L. II. c. 7. and Epictetus, c. 39.
and Simplicus' Comment thereupon: where that
great philosopher, making a scrupulous search what
those things were about which it might be fit to
• Lib. II. §. 52.
5

OF PROPHECY. 21 1
consult the oracle, at last brings them into so narrow
a compass, that a wise man should never find oc
casion to honour the oracle with his presence. A
famous instance whereof we have in Lucan, Lib.
IX. where Cato, being advised to consult Jupiter
Hammon's oracle after Pompey's death, answers,

Estm? Dei s^des nisi terra et pontus et aer
Et coelum et virtus ? Superos quid quaerimus ultra ?
Jupiter est quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.
Sortilegis egeant dubii semperque futuris
Casibus ancipites ; me non oracula certum,
Sed mors certa facit 

But enough of this particular ; and I hope by this
time I have sufficiently unfolded the true seat of
prophecy, and showed the right stage thereof: as
also how lame and delusive the spirit of divination
was, which endeavoured to imitate it.
Now from what hath been said ariseth one main
characteristical distinction between the prophetical
and pseudo-prophetical spirit, viz. That the pro
phetical spirit doth never alienate the mind, (seeing
it seats itself as well in the rational as in the sen
sitive powers,) but always maintains a consistency
and clearness of reason, strength, and solidity of
judgment, where it comes ; it doth not ravish the
mind, but inform and enlighten it : but the pseu
do-prophetical spirit, if indeed without any kind of
dissimulation it enters into any one, because it can
rise no higher than the middle region of man,
which is his fancy, it there dwells as in storms and
tempests, and being akoybv n in itself, is also con
joined _mtix.jHenations_ and abruptions of mind.
For whensoever the phantasms come to be disor-

212, OF PROPHECY.
dered, and to be presented tumultuously to the
soul, as it is either in a pavta fury, or in melan
choly, (both which kinds of alienation are com
monly observed by physicians) or else by the ener
gy of this spirit of' divination, the mind can pass no
true judgment upon them ; but its light and influ
ence becomes eclipsed. But of this alienation we
have already discoursed out of Plato and others.
And thus the Pythian prophetess is described by
the scholiast upon Aristophanes' Plutus, and by
Lucan,* as being filled with inward fury, while she
was inspired by the fatidical spirit, and uttering her
oracles in a strange disguise with many antic ges
tures, her hair torn, and foaming at her mouth. As
also Cassandra is brought in prophesying in the
like manner by Lycophron. So the sibyl was not
ed by Heraclitus, ug patvo\Avu arbpari yskaara xai u-
xakkuiriara pkyyoylevn, ' as one speaking ridiculous
and unseemly speeches with her furious mouth.'
And Ammianus Marcellinus, in the beginning of
his 21st book, hath told us an old observation con
cerning- the sibyls, sibylla? crebro se dicunt ardere,
torrente vi magna fiammarum.
This was cautiously observed by the primitive
fathers, who hereby detected the impostures of the
Montanists, that pretended much to prophecy, but
indeed were acquainted with nothing more of it
than ecstacies or abruptions of mind : for that is it
which they mean by ecstacies. I shall first men
tion that of Clemens Alexandrinus,t 'Ek he roig -\iu-
heat xai dkndn rtva ekeyov 0/ ipsuhoirgoprJTtti' xai ru b'vn
ourot iv ixardaet irgospnreuov, ug av ' Airoardrou htdxovoi,
• Lib. V. f Strom. 1.

OF PROPHECY. 213
that is, ' The false prophets mingled truth some
times with falsehood : and indeed when they were
in an ecstacy, they prophesied, as being servants to
that grand apostate the Devil.' Eusebius* men
tions a discourse of Miltiades to this purpose,
iregi rou pr) hetv wgopnrnv iv iragexaraaei kakeiv. Tertul
lian, who was a great friend to Montanus and his
prophetical sisters MaximUla and Priscilla, speak
ing of them, endeavours to alleviate this business :
and though he grants they were ecstatical in their
prophecies, that is, only transported by the power
of a spirit more potent than their own, as he would
seem to imply ; yet he denies that they used to faU
into any rage or fury, which he says is the charac
ter of every false prophet ; and so Montanus ex
cused himself. But yet for all this, they could not
avoid the lash of Jerome, who thought he saw
through this ecstacy, and that indeed it was a true
alienation, seeing they understood not what they
spoke. Neque verb fut Montanus, cuminsanis fe
minis, somniatj propheta? in ecstasi locuti sunt, ut nes-
cirent quid loquerentur ; et cum alios erudirent,
ipsi ignorarent quid dicerent, ' The prophets did not
(as Montanus, together with some mad women,
dreams) speak in ecstacies, nor did they speak they
knew not what; nor were they, when they' went
about fo instruct others, ignorant of what they said
themselves.' So he in his preface to Isaiah. This
also he elsewhere brands the Montanists withal ;
as in his Prooemium to Nahum, Non loquitur pro
pheta iv exardaei, ut Montanus et Prisca Maximil-
laque delirant ; sed quod prophetat, liber est intelli-
* Histor. Eccles. Lib. V. cap. 7.

214 OF PROPHECY.
gentis qua? loquitur. And in his preface to Ha
bakkuk, — propheta? visio est, et adversum Montani
dogma perversum intelligit quod videt, nee ut amens
loquitur, nee in morem insanientium feminarum dot
sine mente sonum. I shaU add but one author more,
and that is Chrysostom, who hath very fully and
excellently laid down this difference between the
true and false prophets,* ToDro pdvrsag 'ihiov, rb efy-
arnx'svai, rb uvdyxnv uiropevetv, rb u6eia6at, ro ekxeadai ua-
•rsg f//aivbf/,svov, ' It is the property of a diviner to be
ecstatical, to undergo some violence, to be tossed
and hurried about like a madman :' 'O hs irgopnrnt
ouy ourug, akkd fjusra hiavoiag vnpouang, xai awpgovouaqg xa-
raardaeug, xai sihug a p&syysrai pnatv diravra, ' But it
is otherwise with a prophet, whose understanding is
awake, and his mind in a sober and orderly temper,
and he knows every thing that he saith.'
But here we must not mistake the business, as if
there were nothing but the most absolute clearness
and serenity of thoughts lodging in the soul of the
prophet amidst all his visions: and therefore we
shall further take notice of that observation of the
Jews, which is vulgarly known by all acquainted
with their writings, which is concerning those pa
nic fears, consternations, affrightments, and trem
blings, which frequently seized upon them, together
with the prophetical influx. And indeed, by how
much stronger and more vehement those impres
sions were which were made by those unwonted
visa which came in to act upon their imagina
tive faculty, by so much the greater was this per
turbation and trouble : and by how much the more
* Horn. 28. on the first Epistle to the Corinthian?.

OF PROPHECY. 215
the propliet's imagination was exercised by the la-
boriousness of these phantasms, the more were his
natural strength and spirits exhausted, as indeed it
must needs be. Therefore Daniel, being wearied
with the toUsome work of his fancy about those vi
sions that were presented to him, complains that
" there was no strength left in him ;" that " his
comeliness was turned into corruption, and he re
tained no strength ;" that " when he heard the
voice, he was in a deep sleep, and his face toward
the ground ;" that " his sorrows were turned upon
him, and no breath was left in him."* So when
the vision presented to Abraham passed into a pro
phetical dream, it is said, " a deep sleep fell upon
Abraham, and a horror of great darkness fell upon
him."t Upon which passage Maimonides thus
discourseth : Quandoque autem prophetia incipit in
visione prophetica, et postea multiplicatur terror et
passio ilia vehemens, quce sequitur perfectionem opera-
tionum facultatis imaginatricis, et tum demum venit
prophetia, sicuti contigit Abrahamo. In principio
enim prophetia? illius dicitur, (Gen. xv. 1.) Et fuit
verbum Domini ad Abrahamum in visione ; et in fine
ejusdem (ver. 12.). Et sopor irruit in Abrahamum,
&c. And in like manner he speaks of those fati-
gations that Daniel complains of, Est autem terror
quidam panicus qui occupat prophetam inter vigilan-
dum, sicut ex Daniele patet, quando ait, Et vidivisio-
nem magnam hanc, neque remansit in me ullaforti-
tudo, et vis mea mutata est in corruptionem, nee reti-
nui fortitudinem ullam. Et fiui lethargo pppressus
super faciem meam ; et facies mea ad terrain.. And
\
* Dan. x. 8,&c. f Sen, xv. 12. J More Nev. Part II. cap. 41.

216 OF PROPHECY.
thus this whole business is excellently decyphered
to us by R. Albo* 'iav pro-ran man rvnaxnn "«n nan
' Behold, by reason of the strength of the imagin
ative feculty, and the precedency of the influence
upon that to the influence upon the rational, the
influx doth not remain upon the prophet without
terror and consternation ; insomuch that his mem
bers shake and his joints are loosened, and he seems
like one that is ready to give up the ghost by reason
of his great astonishment : after all which perturba
tion the prophetical influx settles itself upon the
rational faculty.'
From this notion perhaps we may borrow some
light for the clearing of Jeremiah, xxiii. 9. " Mine
heart within me is broken because of the prophets ;
all my bones shake : I am like a drunken man, and
like a man whom wine hath overcome, because ofthe
Lord,' and because ofthe words of his holiness." The
importance of which words is, That the energy of
prophetical vision wrought- thus potently upon his
animal part. Though I know R. Solomon seems to
look at another meaning : but Abarbanel is here full
for our present purpose, a,l?a« Dwajn ojvk irvn-v nisna
'iai '3"ipa -a1? iaw nntn M*np otijmtoi dtthpi ' When Jere
miah saw those false prophets eating and drinking,
and faring deliriously, he cried out and said, " My
heart is broken within me because ofthe prophets ;"
for while I behold their works, my heart is rent
asunder with the extremity of my sorrow, and be
cause of the prophetical influx residing upon me,
" my bones are all rotten, and I am like a drunken
man" that neither sees nor hears. And all this hath
* Lib. III. cap. 10.

OF PROPHECY. 217
befell me, " because of the Lord," that is, because
of the divine influx that seized upon me, and "be
cause ofthe words of his holiness," which have
wrought such a conturbation within me, that all my
senses are stupified thereby.' And thus I suppose is
also that passage in Ezekiel Hi. 14. to be expounded,
where the prophet describes the energy and dominion
which the prophetical spirit had over him, when in
a prophetical vision he was carried by way of imagi
nation a tedious journey to those of the captivity
that dwelt by the river Chebar. "The spirit ofthe
Lord lifted me up, and took me away, and I went
in bitterness, and in the heat (or hot chafing and
anger) of my spirit ; but the hand of the Lord was
strong upon me." So Habak. Hi. 2. " O Lord, I
have heard thy speech, and was afraid ;" that is,
the prophetical voice heard by him, and represent
ed in his imagination, was so strong that it struck
a panic fear (as Maimonides expresseth it) into him.
And it may be the same thing is meant Isa. xxi. 3.
where the prophet describes that inward conturba
tion and consternation that his vision of Babylon's
ruin was accompanied withal. " Therefore are my
loins filled with pain ; pangs have taken hold upon
me, as the pangs of a woman that travaileth : I was
bowed down at the hearing of it, I was dismayed
at the seeing of it." Though I know there may
be another meaning of that place not improper, viz.
that the prophet personates Babylon in the horror of
that anguish that should come upon them, whereby
he sets it forth the more to the life, as Jonathan the
Targumist and others would have it ; though yet
I cannot think this the most congruous meaning.
But I have now done with this particular, and I
Ee

218 OF PROPHECY.
hope by this time have gained a fair advantage of
solving one difficulty, which, though it be not so
much observed by our own as it is by the Jewish
writers, yet it is worth our scanning, viz. How the
prophets perceived when the prophetical inspiration
first seized upon them. For, as we have before
showed, there may be such dreams and visions
which are merely delusive, and such as the false
prophets were often partakers of; and besides, the
true prophets might have often such dreams as were
merely vera somnia, tme dreams, but not prophetical.
For the full solution of this knot we have before
showed how this pseudo-prophetical spirit only flut
ters below upon the more terrene parts of man's
soul, liis passions and fancy. The prince of dark
ness comes not within the sphere of light and rea
son to order affairs there, but that is left to the sole
economy and sovereignty of the Father of lights.
There is a clear and bright heaven in manfs soul,
in which LucireTTmiuself cannot subsist, but is
thrown down from thence as often as he essays to
climb up into it.
But to come more expressly to the business ; the
Hebrew masters here tell us, that in the beginning
of prophetical inspiration the prophets used to have
some apparition or image of a man or angel pre
senting itself to .their imagination. Sometimes it
began withja voice, and that either strong and vehe
ment, or else soft and famUiar. And so God is
said first of all to appear to Samuel, who is said
" not yet to have known the Lord," * that is, as
Maimonides + expounds it, Ignoravit adhuc tunc
temporis Deum hoc modo cum prophetis loqui solere,
* 1 Sam. iii. 7. fMore Nev. Part II. cap. 44.

OF PROPHECY. 219
et quod hoc mysterium nondum fuit ei revelatum. In
the same manner R. Albo. * For otherwise we
must not think that Samuel was then ignorant ofthe
true God, but that he knew not the manner of that
voice by which the prophetical spirit was wont to
awaken the attention of the prophets.
And that this was the ancient opinion ofthe Jews,
R. Solomon tells us out of the Massecheth Tamid,
where the doctors thus gloss upon this place, Q-)®
nNiiJ Vip pay too n\-r n1? pny n\n\ myvi\ i- e.
* as yet he knew not the Lord, that is, he knew not the
manner of the prophetical voice. This is that soft
and gentle voice whereby the sense of the prophet
is sometimes attempted, but sometimes this voice
is more vehement.' It will not be amiss to hear
Maimonides' words ;t Nonnunquam fit ut verbum
illud quod propheta audit in visione prophetia?, ei vi
deatur fieri voce robustissimd, &c. i. e. ' It sometimes
happens that the word which the prophet hears in
a prophetical vision, seems to strike him with a
more vehement noise ; and accordingly some dream
that they hear thunder and earthquake, or some
great clashing ;, and sometimes again with an ordi
nary and famUiar noise, as if it was close by him.'
We have a famous instance of the last, in that voice
whereby God appeared unto Adam after he had
sinned, and of the former in Job and Elijah. That
instance of Adam is set down Gen. iii. 8, 9. " And
they heard the voice of the Lord God, walking in
the garden in the cool ofthe day, and Adam hid him
self from the presence of the Lord God amongst the
-trees of the garden : and the Lord God called unto
* Maam. iii. cap. 11. f More Nev. Part II. cap. 44.

220 OF PROPHECY.
Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou?" Where
those words =vn nn which we render "the cool of
the day," the Jews expound of ' a gentle vocal air,'
such a one as breathed in the day-time more pa-
cately. For this appearance of God to him they
suppose to be. in a prophetical vision ; and so Nach-
manides comments upon those words, sy\"\\ oyiDi
'¦di ptm rrrna nn win m^rwrr nV?:im -o Di^rr the
sense of this [msn rrn1? in the gale of the day] is,
'that ordinarily in the manifestation of tlie Shechinah
or divine presence, there comes a great and mighty
wind to usher it in, according to what we read of
Elijah, " And behold, the Lord passed by, and a
great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake
in pieces the rocks before the Lord :"* and in
Psalm xvui. 10. and elsewhere, "He flew upon the
wings of the wind :" accordingly it is written con
cerning Job, that " the Lord answered Job out of
the whirlwind."t Wherefore by way of distinction
it is said in this place, that " they heard the voice
of the Lord," that is, that the divine majesty was
revealed to them in the garden, as approaching to
them, in the gale of the day. For the wind of the
day blew according to the manner of the day-time
in the garden ; not as a great and strong wind in
this vision, (as it was in other prophetical ap
proaches) lest they should fear and be dismayed.'
This mighty voice we also find recorded as rousing
up the attention of Ezekiel, " He cried also in
mine ears with a loud voice, saying,"t &c. So that
aU these schemes are merely prophetical, and import
nothing else but the strong awakening and quick-
* 1 Kings xix, 11. f Job. xxxviii. 1. f Ezek. ix. 1.

OF PROPHECY. 221
ening of the prophet's mind into a lively sense of
the divine majesty appearing to him.
And of these the Apocalypse is full, there being
indeed no prophetical writ, where the whole dra
matical series of things, as they were acted over in
the mind of the prophet, are more graphically and
to the Hfe set forth. So we have this vox pra?centrix
to the whole scene sometimes sounding like a trum
pet, " I was in the spirit on the Lord's day, and
heard behind me a great voice as of a trumpet."*
And upon the beginning of a new vision we find
this prologue, " I looked, and behold a door was
opened in heaven : and the first voice which I heard
was as it were the sound of a trumpet, talking with
me, which said, Come up hither," &c.t And when
a new act of opening the seals begins, he is excited
by another voice sounding like thunder. " And I
saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and
I heard as it were the noise of thunder, one ofthe
four beasts saying, Come and see."t And " voices,
and thunders, and lightnings, and an earthquake" §
are the procemium to the vision of the seven angels
with seven trumpets. Lastly, to name no more,
sometimes it is brought in sounding like the roaring
of a lion. So when he was to receive the little book
of prophecy, " an angel cried with a loud voice,
as when a lion roareth ; and when he had cried,
seven thunders uttered their voices."|| Hence it
is that we find the prophets ordinarily prefacing to
their visions in this manner, " The hand of the
Lord was upon me ;" that is indeed some potent

* Rev. i. 10. f Ibid. chap. iv. 1. \ Ibid. chap. vi. 1.
§ Ibid. chap. viii. 5. || Ibid. chap. x. 3.

222 OF PROPHECY.
force rousing them up to a lively sense of the di
vine majesty, or some heavenly ambassador speak
ing with them. And that the sense hereof might
be the more energetical, sometimes in a prophetical
vision they are commanded to eat those prophetic
rolls given them, which are described with the great
est contrariety of taste that may be, " sweet as
honey in their mouths, and. in their beUies as bitter
as gall."*
Thus we have seen in part how those impres
sions, by which the prophets were made partakers
of divine inspiration, carried a strong evidence of
their original along with them, whereby they might
be able to distinguish them both from any hallucin
ation, as also from their own true dreams, which
might be 'hebirepra sent by God, but not prophetical :
which yet I think is more universally unfolded in
Jer. xxiii. where the difference between true divine
inspiration and such false dreams and visions as
sometimes a lying spirit breathed into the false pro
phets, is on set purpose described to us from their
different evidence and energy. The pseudo-pro
phetical spirit being but chaff, ver. 28. as vain as
vanity itself, subject to every wind : the matter it
self indeed, which was suggested in such, tending
to nourish immorality and profaneness ; and besides,
for the manner of inspiration, it was more dilute and
languid. Whereas true prophecy entered upon the
mind " as a fire," and " Hke a hammer that break-
eth the rock in pieces :" ver. 29. and therefore the
true prophets might know themselves to have re
ceived command from heaven, when the false might,
* Rev. x. 9. Ezek. ii. 9.

OF PROPHECY.

228

if they would have laid aside their own fond self-
conceit, have known as easily that God sent them
not. For so 1 think those words are spoken by way
of conviction, and to provoke a self-condemnation,
" Behold, I am against those that prophesy false
dreams, saith the Lord, and do tell them, and cause
my people to err by their lies and by their lightness ;
yet I sent them not, neither commanded them," ver.
32. And this might be evident to them from the
feeble nature of those inspirations of which they
boasted, as it is insinuated, " The prophet that
hath a dream," &c. ver. 28, 29. And thus Abarbanel
expounds this place, whose sense I shaU a little the
more pursue, because he from hence undertakes to '
solve the difficulty of that question which we are
now upon, and thus speaks of it as a question of
very great moment. '«i ntnaan nyjD npinj? rhvao rrajca
i. e. ' Certainly it is one of the profoundest ques
tions that are made concerning prophecy, and I have
inquired after the opinion of the wise men of our
nation about it.' What answer they gave to this
question which he anxiously inquired after, it seems
he tells us not, but his own answer which he ad
heres to, he founds upon those words, jii^-nn
"OrrnN " What is the chaff to the wheat?"
T — V
ver. 28. And upon this occasion he says that old
rule of the Jews was framed, of which we formerly
spoke, 'As there is no wheat without chaff, so nei
ther is there any dream without something that is
agybv, void of reality and insignificant.' Maimo
nides here in a general way resolves the business,
nsiajsincr *««£ jnn nsoajn {. e, < All prophecy makes
itself known to the prophet, that it is prophecy in
deed.' Which general solution Abarbanel having

224 OF PROPHECY.
a little examined, thus coUects the sense of it,
San "sroj r-u'8 -ws6 "wajn or?nn ya iw invna N:<a;n l-na'
'iai irwibm aiffian -ma iw-inn pTin »a i, e. ' A prophet
when he is asleep may distinguish between a pro
phetical dream and that which is not such, by the
vigour and liveliness of the perception whereby he
apprehends the thing propounded, or else by the
imbecility and weakness thereof.' And therefore
Maimonides hath said well, ' all prophecy makes it
self known to the prophet that it is prophecy in
deed, that is, it makes itself known to the prophet
by the strength and vigour of the perception, so
that his mind is freed from all scruple whatsoever
about it.' And this he concludes to be the true
meaning of Jer. xxiii. 29. " Is not my word like a
fire, saith the Lord, and Hke a hammer that break-
eth the rock in pieces ?" which he thus glosses
upon, iai j>*'3Jn abs iniVyan r-uVsni wj-in puna nsnaan nnn w
' Such a thing is the prophetical spirit, by reason of
the strength of its impression and the forcibleness
of its operation upon the heart of the prophet ; it
is even like a thing tliat burns and tears him : and
this happens to him either amidst the dream itself,
or afterwards when he is fully awakened and rous
ed out of tliat prophetical dream. But those dreams
which are not prophetical, although they be true,
are weak and languid things, easUy blasted as it
were with the east wind :' and, as he further goes
on by way of allusion, like those dreams that the
prophet Isaiah speaks of, " when a hungry man
dreams he eats, but when he awakes, behold he is
still hungry ; and as when a thirsty man dreams he
drinks, but when he is awake he is still thirsty."*
* Isa. xxix. 8.

OF PROPHECY. 225
And thus also the Chaldee paraphrast, Jer. xxiii. 29.
iai v> 1DN N/liy^p PSJffl injjpp to M^rr Nonne om
nia verba mea suntfortia sicut ignis, &c. But we
have yet another evident demonstration of this no
tion which may not be omitted, which is, " Then
I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak
any more in his name : . but his word was in mine
heart as a burning fire shut up within my bones,
and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not
stay."* And, " The Lord is with me as a mighty
terrible one." ver. 11. With reference to which
paragraph, R. Solomon thus glosseth on the for
merly-quoted, chap, xxiii. 29. w^ ^a nsauo nsiaj -m
n-iya \pk3 '3V3 <nm -savo-tr vjjo mj?a awa i3 nso «'n miaaa
npm fy '« -h iokj ' The word of prophecy, when it
enters into the mouth of the prophet in its strength,
it comes upon him Hke a fire that burneth, accord
ing to what is said' [in Jer. xx. 9.] " And it was
in my heart as a burning fire ;'' [and in Ezek. iii.
14.] " And the hand of the Lord was strong
upon me."
I have now done with the main characteristical
nature of prophecy, and given those rexpngia of it
which most properly belong to true prophecy;
though yet the other two degrees of divine influx
(of which hereafter) may also have their share in
them.
* Jer. xx. 9.

Fi

226 OF PROPHECY.

CHAP. V.
An inquiry concerning the immediate efficient that represented the
prophetical visions to the fancy qf the prophet. That these re
presentations were made in tlie prophet's fancy by some angel.
This cleared by several passages out qf the Jewish monuments,
and by testimonies qf Scripture.
BEFORE I conclude this present discourse con
cerning prophecy properly so called, I think it may
be useful to treat a little of two things more that
most commonly are to be considered in this de
gree of divine inspiration, which we call prophecy.
The first whereof is to inquire what that intellec
tus agens was, or, if you will, that immediate effi
cient that represented the prophetical visions to the
fancy of the prophet.
Secondly, What the meaning of those actions is
that are frequently attributed to the prophets,
whether they were real, or only imaginary and
scenical. I shall begin with the first, and inquire by whom
these representations were made in the prophet's
imagination, or. who ordered the prophetical scene,
and brought up all those idolums that therein ap
peared upon the stage. For though there be no
question but that it was God himself by whom the
whole frame of prophecy was disposed and origin
ally dispensed, seeing the scope thereof was to re
veal his mind and will ; yet the immediate efficient
seems not to be God himself, as perhaps some may
think, but indeed an angel : and so the generality

OF PROPHECY. 227
of aU the Jewish writers determine. Maimonides'
sense is full for this purpose, both in his De Funda-
mentis Legis and his More Nevochim. And per
haps he hath too universaUy determined, that every
apparition of angels imports presently some pro
phetical dispensation: which hath made some of
his countrymen by an d^ergia dvSokxrjg to fall too
much off from him into a contrary assertion. His
words are these,* Scito quod omnium eorum prophe
tarum qui prophetiam sibifactam esse dicunt, quidam
eam angelo alicui, quidam verb Deo optimo maximo
ascribant et attribuant, licet per angeli ministerium
quoque ipsis obtigerit: de quo sapientes nostri nos
erudierunt quando aiunt, et dixit Dominus ad eam
C scilicet IjN^Qii i]?? *?5? h. e. per manus angeli J Gen.
xxv. 23. For so it seems the masters expounded
this place, where God reveals to Rebekah her fu
ture conception and progeny, of a prophetical ap
parition by some angel ; though yet all agree not
in it. But it may be worth our while to hear out
Maimonides, who pleads the authority of all Jewish
antiquity for this opinion that we have now laid
down. Insuper, de quocunque scriptum occurrit,
quod angelus cum eo locutus, aut quod aliquid ipsi d
Deo revelatum sit, id nullo alio modo quam in somnio
aut visione propheticafactum esse noveris, &c. 'More
over, of whomsoever you read that an angel spoke
with him, or that something was revealed to him
by God, you are to understand that it was perform
ed no other way than by a dream or a prophetical
vision. Our wise men have a discourse about the
word that came to the prophets, according to what
* More Nev. Part IL.cap. 41.

228 OF PROPHECY.
the prophets themselves have declared, (that is, con
cerning the several ways, as Buxtorf expounds it, by
which the prophets say the word of God came to
them.) Now this was (said they) four ways. The
first is, When the prophet declares he received the
word from an angel in a dream or in a vision. Se*
condly, When he only mentions the words of the
angel, without declaring that they came to him in
a dream or in a vision ; relying upon this known
fundamental, viz. That there is no prophecy re*
vealed but by one of these two ways, whereof God
makes mention, saying, " I will make myself known
in a vision, and speak to him in a dream," Thirdly,
When he makes no mention of the angel, but as
cribes all to God, as if he alone had conveyed it ;
yet with this addition, that it came in a vision or in
a dream. Fourthly, When the prophet says abso
lutely, that God spake with him, or said unto him,
Do this, or, speak this, making no mention at all
either of angel, or vision, or dream ; and that be
cause of this known principle and fundamental
truth, that there is no prophecy but either in a
dream or vision, or by the ministry of an angel.'
Thus Maimonides, who, as we see, pretends this to
be a known thing and generally agreed upon by all
Jewish antiquity,
But before we go on to any confirmation of it, it
will be requisite a little to see what Nachmanides,
his great adversary in this business, allegeth against
him, which I find in his comment upon Genesis
xviii. which chapter Maimonides makes to relate
nothing else but a prophetical apparition of three
angels to Abraham, which promised a son ; they are
said to eat and drink with him, and two of them to

OF PROPHECY. 229
depart from him to Sodom, to be there entertained
by Lot, whom they rescued from the violence
of his neighbour citizens, and led him the next
day out of the city, before they brought down
fire and brimstone from heaven upon it. All
which passages seem to make it evident that
this apparition of angels was real and historical,
and not merely prophetical and imaginary. Where
fore Nachmanides having got this unhappy advan
tage of his adversary, pursues this mistake of his
with another of his own as gross in an opposite
way. His words are these, "r« "nan is i«6n wxrb won
'iai K'aa ' He that beholds an angel, or hath any
conference with one, is not a prophet: for the
business is not so as Maimonides hath determined
it, namely, that every prophet receives his prophe
cy by the ministry of an angel, our master Moses
only excepted ; for our Rabbins have told us con
cerning Daniel and his companions, that they were
upon this account more excellent than he, because
they were prophets, and he was none. And there
fore his book is not reckoned amongst the prophets,
because he had to do with the angel Gabriel, al
though he both beheld him, and had conference
with him when he was awake. Thus we see Nach
manides as clearly expungeth all those out of his
catalogue of the prophets to whom any apparition
of angels was made, as Maimonides had put them
in ; and pretends for this the authority of the Tal-
mudists, who for this cause exclude Daniel from
the number ofthe prophets, and, as he would have
us believe, reckoned his book among the Hagiogra
pha, because of his converse with the angel Ga
briel. But all this is gratis dictum, and scarce

230 OF PROPHECY.
bond fide ; for it is manifest that all antiquity reck
oned upon Zachariah as a prophet, notwithstand
ing all his visions are perpetually represented by
angels. But we shall a little examine that sentence of
the Talmudists upon which Nachmanides founds his
opinion, which 1 find set down in Massecheth Me-
gUlah, cap. 1. of the Gemara, where the masters
gloss on that of Dan. x. 7. " And I Daniel alone
saw the vision : for the men that were with me saw
not the vision 5 but a great quaking fell upon
them, so that they fled to hide themselves." Here
they inquire who those companions of Daniel were,
and then pass their verdict upon him and them.
'•01 ,a«Vni r-v-o\ un nt wm' 'an -inx H'imk ina is» ' What
are those men that were with Daniel ? R. Jeremiah
said, they were Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi.
They excelled Daniel, and he also excelled them.
Herein they excelled him, because they were pro
phets, and he was none ; and in this he excelled
them, that he beheld a vision, and they none.'
Thus those masters, who indeed deny Daniel to be
a prophet, and accordingly his book was by them
reckoned among the Hagiographa, yet they here
give no reason at all for it. But whereas Nach
manides says that the visions of angels which Da
niel conversed with were real, and not imaginary
or prophetical, it is a manifest elusion, and contra
ry' to the express words of the text, which relates
these apparitions to have been in his sleep,* " And
when I heard the voice of his words, then was I in
a deep sleep upon my face, and my face towards
* Dan. x. 9.

OF PROPHECY. 231
the ground." And chap. viii. 18. " Now as he
was speaking with me, I was in a deep sleep."
This sleep was upon the exit of his vision, ver. 15.
for so, as we have showed before, there was a fre
quent (Ji>erd($uaig from a vision which begun upon
the prophets while they were awake into a prophe
tical dream. So chap. vii. 1. "In the first year of
Belshazzar king of Babylon, Daniel had a dream,
and visions of his head upon his bed ;" and in this
dream and night vision, as in the other before-
mentioned, a man or angel comes in to expound
the matter, ver. 15, 16. " I Daniel was grieved in
my spirit in the midst of my body, and the visions
of my head troubled me. I came near to one of
them that stood by, and asked him the truth of all
this : so he told me, and made me know the inter
pretation ofthe things."
But that the Talmudists do maintain true pro
phecy to have been communicated by angels, we
shall further confirm from one place which is in
Gemara Beracoth, cap. 9. where the doctors are
brought in, comparing two places of Scripture,
which seem contradictory. One of them is Numb.
xii. 6. " In a dream will I speak unto him ;"
the other is Zech. x. 2. " They have told false
dreams :" which they solve thus. R. Rami said,
it is written, "naT wen nroVm a'nai 13 -oik cairns < I
wUl speak to him in a dream ; and again, They have
told false dreams. Now there is no difficulty at
all in this : for the first sort of dreams came by the
hand of an angel ;* and the other by an evU ge-
nius.'t And this opinion is generaUy followed by
-jKbn »t bp * iv "T>b t

232 OF PROPHECY.
the rest of the Jewish writers, commentators, and
others, who thus compound the difference between
those two famous adversaries Nachmanides and
Maimonides, by granting a twofold appearance of
angels, the one real, and the other imaginary. And
so they say this real vision of angels is a degree in
ferior to the prophetical vision of them. As we
are told by R. Jehudah in the book Cosri ; where
having disputed,* what hallowed minds they ought
to have who maintain commerce with the Deity, he
thus goes on, 'iai nn'Dna pirn =« ' If a man be very
pious, and be in those places where the divine in
fluence uses to manifest itself, the angels will ac
company him with their real presence, and he shall
see them face to face ; yet in an inferior way to
that vision of angels which accompanies the pro
phetical degree. Under the second temple, ac
cording as men were more endowed with wisdom,
they beheld apparitions, and heard the Bath Col,
which is a degree of sanctity, but yet inferior to
the prophetical.' To conclude, R. Bechai makes
it an article of faith to believe the existence of an
gels for this reason, that angels were the furnishers
of the prophetical scene, and therefore to deny
them was to deny all prophecy ; so he in Parasha
Terumah 'iai aa'jj'swn an o'asbn pw ish « because
(saith he) the divine ^influx comes by the ministry
of angels, who order and dispose the word in the
mouth of the prophet according to the mind of
God : and if it were not so, there would be no pro
phecy ; and if no prophecy, no law. So Jos. Albo,
we may remember, defined prophecy by the imme
diate orderers of it, the angels.
* Maaun. iii.

OF PROPHECY. 233
But it is best to consult the Scripture itself in
this business, which declares all that way by which
it descended from God to the sons of men. The
first place which Maimonides* brings for confirma
tion of this opinion is that of Gen. xvui. 1. with the
exposition of R. Chija,. which he leaves as a great
secret. But that which is more for his and our
purpose, is Gen. xxxii. 24. where Jacob wrestled
all night with the angel ; for so that man was, as
Hosea tells us ; and ver. 1. " The angels of God
met Jacob." Neither doth this interpretation of
that lucta between the angel and Jacob to have
been only in a prophetical vision, at all prejudice
the historical truth of that event, which was Jacob's
halting upon his thigh : for that is no very unusual
thing at other times to have some real passions in
our bodies, represented to us in our dreams than
when they first begin. Another place is Josh. v.
13. " Joshua lifted up his eyes and looked, and be
hold a man stood over against him." Again, De
borah attributes the command she had to curse
Meroz, to an angel : " Curse ye Meroz, said the
angel of the Lord :"t which words Kimchi would
have to be understood in a literal sense, nn'n n«'3J 'a
pit pvrox nsoajn '3 Syi n-vm « for Deborah was a pro
phetess, and so spake according to prophetical in
spiration ;' and so Rabbi Levi Ben Gersom also ex
pounds it : Onkelos and Rasi, with less reason, I
think, make this angel to be none else but Baruch.
Though I am not ignorant that sometimes the pro
phets themselves are called angels of God, and
thence Malachi, the last of them, had his name ; yet
- More Nev. Part II. dap. 42. t 3u&g. v. 25.
o.s

234 OF PROPHECY.
we have no such testimony concerning Baruch,
that ever he was a prophet, but only a judge or
commander of the military forces. In the first
book of Kings, chap. xix. 11, 12. we have a large
description of this, imaginary appearance of angels
in the several modes of it ; " Behold the Lord
passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the
mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the
Lord ; but the Lord was not in the wind : and after
the wind an earthquake, and after the earthquake
a- fire," &c. All which appearances Jonathan the
Targumist expounds by ON^n ni_iu>0 'Armies of
angels,' which were attended with those terrible
phenomena. And the still voice in which the Lord
was, he renders answerably to the rest by prQ^'q^ "?;?
"'wrn ' the voice of angels praising God in a gentle
kind of harmony.' For though it be there said that
the Lord was in the soft voice, yet that paraphrast
seems to understand it only of his embassador :
which in some other places of Scripture is very
manifest; as in 2 Kings i. 3, 15, 16. where ver. 3.
we find the angel delivered to Elijah the message
to Ahaziah king of Israel, who sent to Baal-zebub
the god of Ekron to inquire about his disease ;
" But the angel ofthe Lord said to Elijah the Tish-
bite, Arise, go up to meet the messengers of the
king of Samaria, and say unto them, Is it not be-'
cause there is not a God in Israel, that ye go to
inquire of Baal-zebub." And ver. 16, we have all
this message attributed to God himself by the pro
phet, as if he had received the dictate immediately
from God himself. And in Daniel, the Apocalypse,
and Zachariah, we find all things perpetually repre
sented and interpreted by angels. And Abarbanel

OF PROPHECY. 235
upon Zach. ii. tells us that several prophets had
several angels that delivered the heavenly embassy
to them, for that every prophet was not so well
fitted to converse with any kind of angel : *"» ra
'iai pawn Sap? j3in h*aj < Every prophet was not in a fit
capacity of receiving prophetical influence from
any angel indifferently ; but according to the dis
position of the receiver, the degree and quality of
the angel was accommodated.' But I shall not fur
ther pursue this argument. In the general, that
the prophetical scene was perpetually ordered by
some angel, I think it is evident from what hath
been already said, which I might further confirm
from Ezekiel, all whose prophecies about the tem
ple are expressly attributed to a man as the actor
of them, that is indeed an angel ; for so they used
constantly to appear to the prophets in a human
shape. And likewise in Jacob's vision of a ladder
that reached up to heaven,* we find the angels as
cending and descending, to intimate that this sca-
la prophetica, whereby divine influence descended
upon the mind of the prophet, is always filled with
angels. From this place, compared with Jacob's
vision of Laban' s sheep, presented to him by an an-
gel,t Philo thus determines in his book vssgi tou Sso-
icepirroug sivai roug bvslgoug, Ogag or< ^soir's^irroug bveigoug
uvaygdpsi b §Hog kbyog, ou pbvov roug xara rb irgsafiurarov
ruv ainuv irgopatvojjJsvoug, dkkd xai roug ruv uiropnruv au-
rou xui oTuhuv dyy'ekuv, ' You see how the Scripture
represents such dreams as sent of God, not only
those that proceed from the first, cause [God], but
such also - as come by his ministers, the angels.*
* Gen. xxviii. 18. f Gen. xxxi. 11. l

236 OF PROPHECY.
But St. Jerome hath given us a more full and am
ple testimony in this matter, in his comment on
Gal. iii. 19. " The law was ordained by angels in
the hand of a mediator." His words are these ;
Quod autem ait, lex ordinata per angelos, hoc vult
intelligi, quod in omni veteri testamento, ubi angelus
primum visus refertur, et postea quasi Deus loquens
inducitur, angelus quidem vere ex ministris pluribus
quicumque sit visus, sed in illo . mediator [Christus^
loquatur qui dicat, Ego sum Deus Abraham, Deus
Isaac, et Deus Jacob. Nee mirum si Deus loquatur
in angelis, cum etiam per angelos qui in hominibus
sunt loquatur Deus in prophetis ; dicente Zacharia,
el ait angelus qui loquebatur in me, ac deinceps infe-
rente, ha?c dicit Dominus omnipotens.
We might further add to all this, those visions
we meet with in the New Testament, which, as a
thing vulgarly known, were attributed to angels.
So Acts xxvii. 23. " There stood by me the an
gel of God this night," that is, in a prophetical
dream. And Acts xii. when the angel of God
did really appear to Peter, and bring him out of
prison, he could scarce be persuaded of a long time
but that aU this was a vision, this indeed being the
common manner of all prophetical vision. And
Acts xxiii. when the Pharisees would describe
St. Paul as a prophet that had received some vision
or revelation from heaven, they phrase it by the
speaking of an angel or spirit unto him, " We find
no evil in this man ; but if an angel or • spirit
hath spoken to him, let us not fight against God,"
ver. 9.

OF PROPHECY. 237

CHAP. VI,
The second inquiry, What the meaning qf those actions is thai are
frequently attributed to the prophets, whether they were real, or
only imaginary and scenical. What actions of the prophets
were only imaginary, and performed upon the stage of fancy.
What we are to think of several actions and res gestae recorded
qf Hosea, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel in their prophecies.
JL HUS we have done with our first inquiry con
cerning the contriver and orderer of the propheti
cal stage : that which was acted upon it, no doubt,
every one will grant to have been a masking or
imaginary business. But there are many times in
the midst of prophetical narrations some things re
lated to be done by the prophets themselves upon
the command of the prophetic voice, which have
been generally conceived to_haye been acted real
ly, the grossest of all not excepted, as Hosea's
taking a harlot for his wife, and begetting children,
&c. Which conceit Mr. Calvin hath in part hap
pily undermined. But we shaIT~not here doubt to
conclude, both of that and all other actions of the
prophets which they were enjoined upon the stage
of prophecy, that they were only scenical and ima
ginary; except indeed they were such as of their
own nature must have a historical meaning, in
which an imaginary performance would not serve
the turn. For this purpose it may be worth our
while to take notice of what Maimonides hath well
determined in this case,* Scias ergo,, quemadmodum
* More Nev. Part II. cnp. 46.

238 OF PROPHECY.
in somnio accidit, &c. ' Know therefore, that as it
is in a dream, a man thinks that he hath been in
this or that country, that he has married a wife
there, and continued there for some certain time,
that by this wife he has had a son of such a name,
of such a disposition, and the like; know (saith
he) that even just so it is with the prophetical para
bles, as to what the prophets see or do in a prophe
tical vision. For whatsoever those parables inform
us concerning any action the prophet doth, or con
cerning the space of time between one action and
another, or going from one place to another ; all
this is in a prophetical vision : neither are these
actions real to sense, although some particularities
may be precisely reckoned up in the writings of
the prophets. For because it was well known that
it was all done in a prophetical vision ; it was not
necessary in the rehearsing of every particularity
to reiterate that it was in a prophetical vision ; as
it was also needless to inculcate that it was in a
dream. But now the vulgar sort of men think that
all such actions, journeys, questions, and answers
were really and sensibly performed, and not in a
prophetical vision. And therefore I have an in
tention to make plain this business, arid shall bring
such things as no man shall be able to doubt of;
adding thereunto some examples, by which you
may be able to judge of the rest which 1 shall not
for the present mention.' Thus we see how Mai
monides rejects it as a vulgar error to conceive that
I those actions which are commonly attributed to the
prophets in the current of their prophecy, their
, traveUing from place to place, their propounding
] questions, and receiving answers, &c. were real

OF PROPHECY. 239
things to sense ; whereas they were only imaginary,
represented merely to the fancy.
But, for a more distinct understanding of this
business, we must remember what hath been often
suggested; that the proj)heticaJ^cjene^rvstage up
on which aU apparitions were made to the prophet,
was his imagination farid that there all those things
whicK^God ^ould have revealed unto him were
acted over symbolicaUy, as in a masque, in which
divers persons are brought in, amongst which the
prophet himself bears a part : and therefore he, ac
cording to the exigency of this dramatical appara
tus, must, as the other actors, perform his part,
sometimes by speaking and reciting things done,
propounding questions, sometimes by acting that
part which in the drama he was appointed to act
by some others ; and so, not only by speaking, but
by gestures and actions, come in, in his due place,
among the rest ; as it is in our ordinary dreams, to
use Maimonides' expression of it. And therefore
it is no wonder to hear of those things done which'
indeed have no historical or real verity ; the scope \
of all being to represent something strongly to the
prophet's understanding, and sufficiently to inform
it in the substance of those things in which he was
to instruct that people to whom he was sent. And
so sometimes we have only the inteUigible matter
of prophecies delivered to us nakedly, without the
imaginary ceremonies "or solemnities. And as this
notion of those actions of the prophet that are in-
terweaved with their prophecies is most genuine
and agreeable to the general nature of prophecy, so
we shall further clear and confirm it in some parti
culars.

240 OF PROPHECY.
We shall begin with that of Hosea's marrying Go-
mer, a common harlot, and taking to himself chil
dren of whoredoms, which he is said to do a first
and second time.* Which kind of action, however
it might be void of true vice, yet it would not have
been void of all offence, for a prophet to have thus
unequally yoked himself (to use St. Paul's expres
sion) with any such infamous persons, though by
way of lawful wedlock, if it had been really done.
I know that this way of interpreting both this and
other prophetical actions displeaseth Abarbanel,
who thinks the literal sense and historical verity of
aU ought to be entertained, except it be onrug ex
pressed to have been done in a vision ; and the ge*
neral current of our Christian writers, till Calvin's
time, have gone the same way. And to- make the
literal interpretation here good, R. Solomon and
our former author both tell us, that the ancient
Rabbins have determined those prophetical narra
tions of Hosea to be understood ojrowna < literally,'
The place they refer to is, Gem. Pesac. cap. 8.
where yet I find no such thing positively concluded
by the Talmudists. Indeed they there, after their
fashion, expound the place by inserting a long dia
logue between God and the prophet about finis
matter, but so as that without R. Solomon's or
Abarbanel's gloss, we could no more flunk their
scope was to establish the literal sense, than I think
that the prophet himself intended to insinuate the
same to us. We therefore choose to follow Aben-
ezra as a more genuine commentator, who in this
place, and others of the like nature, follows Mai-
* Hos. i. and iii.

OF PROPHECY. 241
monides xara itbhag, making all those transactions
to have been only imaginary. For though it be
not always positively laid down in these narrations,
that the res gesta was in a vision ; yet the nature
and scope of prophecy, so requiring that things
should thus be acted in imagination, we should ra
ther expect some positive declaration to assure us
that they were performed in the history, if indeed
it were so.
And therefore in these recitals of prophetical vi
sions we find many times things less coherent than
can agree to a true history ; as in the narrative* of
Abraham's vision, Gen. xv. (for so the Rabbins in
Pirke R. EHezer expound that whole chapter to be
nothing else) we find ver. 1. that " God appeared
to Abraham in a vision," and ver. 5. God brings
him into the field as if it were after the shuttfhg up
of evening, and shows him the stars of heaven :
and yet for all this it was yet daytime, and the sun
not gone down : " And when the sun was going
down, a deep sleep fell upon Abraham ;" ver. 12.
" And it came to pass that when the sun went down
and it was dark, behold a smoking furnace, and a
burning lamp that passed between those pieces."
ver. 17. From whence it is manifest, that Abra
ham's going out into the field before to take a
view of the stars of heaven, and his ordering of
those several living creatures, ver. 9, 10. for a sa
crifice, was all performed in a prophetical vision,
and upon the stage of his imagination :_ it being no
strange thing to have incoherent junctures of time
made in such a way.
So in Jer. xiii. we have a very precise narrative
of Jeremiah's getting a linen girdle, and putting it
Hh

242 OF PROPHECY.
upon his loins ; and after a while he must needs
take a long journey to Euphrates, to hide it there
in a hole of the rock ; and then returning, after
many days makes another weary journey to the
same place to take it out again after it was all cor
rupted : all which could manifestly be nothing else
but merely imaginary ; the scope thereof being to
imprint this more deeply upon the understanding
of the prophet, that the house of Judah and Israel,
which was nearly knit and united to God, should
be destroyed and ruined.
The same prophet, chap, xviii. is brought in going
to the house of a potter, to take notice how he
wrought a piece of work upon the wheel ; and
when the vessel he intended was all marred, that
then he made of his clay another vessel. And
chap. xix. he is brought in as taking the ancients of
the people and the ancients of the priests along
with him into the valley of the son of Hinnom, with
a potter's earthen bottle under his arm, and there
breaking it in pieces in the midst of them.
In this last chapter it is very observable how the
scheme of speech is altered, when the prophet re
lates a real history concerning himself, ver. 14.
speaking of himself in the third person, as if now
he were to speak of somebody else, and not of a
prophet or his actions ; for so we read ver. 14.
" Then came Jeremiah from Tophet," &c. The
like change of the person we find chap, xxviii. 10.
where a formal story is told of some things that
passed between Jeremiah and Hananiah the false
prophet, who, in the presence of all the people,
broke Jeremiah's yoke from off his neck : for it
seems to have been a wonted thing for the pro-

OF PROPHECY. 243
phets by bonds and yokes to type out unto the peo
ple victory or captivity in war. Not unlike is that
we read of Zedekiah the false prophet, who made
himself horns of iron, when he prophesied to Ahab
his prosperity against the Syrians at Ramoth-GUead,
vulgarly to represent to him the success he should
have against his enemies.* But in aU this business
the mode of Jeremiah's language insinuates a literal
sense, by speaking altogether in the third person,
as if the relation concerned somebody else, and not
himself; and so must be of some real thing, and
that which to sense and observation had its reality,
and not only a reality in apprehension or imagina
tion. So chap, xxxii. we seem to have an insinua
tion of a real history in Jeremiah's purchase of a
field of Hanameel his uncle's son, from the mode of
expression which is there observable.
But at other times we meet with things graphi
caUy described with all the circumstantial pomp of
the business, when yet it could be nothing else but
a dramatical thing ; as chap. xxxv. where the pro
phet goes and finds out the chief of the Rechabites
particularly described, and brings them into such a
particular chamber as is there set forth by all its
bounds, and there sets pots and cups full of wine
before them, and bids them drink. Just in the
same mode with this we have another story "told,
chap. xxv. 15, 17. &c. of his taking a wine cup
from God, and his carrying it up and down to all
nations far and near, Jerusalem, and the cities of
Judah, and the kings and princes thereof; to Pha
raoh king of Egypt, his servants, princes, and peo-
* 1 Kins-i xxii.

244 OF PROPHECY.
pie ; to all the Arabians, and kings of the land
of Uz ; to the kings of the land of the Philistines,
Edom, Moab, Ammon ; the kings of Tyre and
Sidon, and of the isles beyond the sea, Dedan,
Tema, Buz ; the kings of Zimri, of the Medes and
Persians, and all the kings of the north : and all
these he said he made to drink of this cup. And
in this fashion, chap, xxvii. he is sent up and down
with yokes, to put upon the necks of several kings :
all which can have no other sense than that which
is merely imaginary, though we be not told that all
this was acted only in a vision, for the nature of
the thing would not permit any real performance
thereof. The like we must say of Ezekiel's res gesta?, his
eating a roll given him of God, chap. iii. And
chap. iv. it is especially remarkable how ceremoni
ously aU things are related concerning his taking a
tile, and pourtraying upon it the city of Jerusalem,
and his laying siege to it ; all which I suppose will
be evident to have been merely dramatical, if we
carefully examine all things in it, notwithstanding
that God tells him he should in all this be a " sign
to the people." Which is not so to be understood,
as if they were to observe in such real actions in a
sensible way, what their own fates should be :
for he is here commanded to He continuaUy be
fore a tile three hundred and ninety days, which
is full thirteen months; upon his left side, and
after that forty more upon his right, and to bake
his bread that he should eat all this whUe with
dung, &c.
So chap. v. he is commanded to take a, barber's
razor, and to shave his head and beard, then to

OF PROPHECY. 245
weigh his hair in a pair of scales, and divide it into
three parts ; and after the days of his siege should
be fulfilled, spoken of before, then to. burn a third
part of it in the midst of the city, and to smite
about the other third with a knife, and to scatter
the other third to the wind. All which, as it is
most unlikely in itself ever to have been really
done, so was it against the law of the priests, to
shave the corners of their heads and the corners of
their beards, as Maimonides observes. But that
Ezekiel himself was a priest, is manifest from
chap. i. 3. Upon these passages of Ezekiel, Mai
monides hath thus soberly given his judgment,*
Absit ut Deus prophetas suos stultis vel ebriis similes
reddat, ebsque stultorum aut juriosorum actiohes
facere jubeat: pra?terquam quod prceceptum illud
ultimum legi repugnasset, he. ' Far be it from God to
render his prophets like to fools and drunken men,
and to prescribe them the actions of fools and mad
men : besides that this last injunction would have
been inconsistent with the law ; for Ezekiel was a
great priest, and therefore obliged to the observa
tion of those two negative precepts, viz. of not
shaving the corners of his head and corners of his
beard : and therefore this was done only in a pro
phetical vision.' The same sentence likewise he
passeth upon that story of Isaiah, chap. xx. 3. his
walking naked and barefoot, wherein Isaiah was no
otherwise a sign to Egypt and Ethiopia, or rather
Arabia, where he dwelt not, and so could not more
HteraUy be a type therein, than Ezekiel was here
to the Jews. * More Nev. Part II. eap. 46.

246 OF PROPHECY.
Again, chap. xii. we read of Ezekiel's removing
his household stuff in the night, as a type of the
captivity, and of his digging with his hands through
the wall of his house, and of the people's coming
to take notice of this strange action, with many
other uncouth ceremonies of the whole business
which carry no show of probability : and yet, ver.
6. God declares upon this to him, " I have set thee
for a sign to the house of Israel ;" and ver. 9.
" Son of man, hath not the house of Israel, the re
bellious house, said unto thee, What doest thou ?"
As if all this had been really done ; which indeed
seems to be nothing else but a prophetical scheme.
Neither was the prophet any real sign, but only
imaginary, as having the type of all those fates
which were to befaU the Jews symbolically repre
sented in his fancy : which sense Kimchi, a genuine
commentator, foUows, with the others mentioned.
And it may be, according to this same notion is
that in chap. xxiv. to be understood, of the death
of the prophet's wife, with the manner of those fu
neral solemnities and obsequies which he performed
for her.
But we shaU proceed no further in this argu
ment, which I hope is by this time sufficiently
cleared, that we are not, in any prophetical narra
tives of this kind, to understand, any thing else but
the history of the visions themselves which ap
peared to them, except we be led by some farther
argument of the reality of the thing in a way of
sensible appearance to determine it to have been
any sensible thing.

OF PROPHECY. 247

CHAP. VIL
Of that degree qf divine inspiration properly called Ruach hakko-
desh, i. e. The Holy Spirit. The nature qf it described out qf
Jewish antiquities. Wherein this Spiritus Sanctus differed from
prophecy, strictly so called, and from the spirit of holiness in
purified souls. What books qf the Old Testament were ascribed-
by the Jews to Ruach hakkodesh. Of the Urim and Thum-
mim.
J. HUS we have done with that part of divine in
spiration, which was more technically and properly
by the Jews called prophecy. We shall now a little
search into that which is Hagiographical, or, as
they call it, the dictate of the Holy Spirit ; in which
the Book of Psalms, Job, the works of Solomon
and others are comprised. This we find very ap
positely thus defined by Mjunonides,* Cum homo
in se sentit rem vel facultatem quampiam exoriri, et
super se quiescere, qua? eum impellit ad loquendum,
Sec. ' When a man perceives some power to arise
within him, and rest upon him, which urgeth him
to speak, so that he discourse concerning, the
sciences or arts, and utter psalms or hymns, or pro
fitable and wholesome rules of good living, or mat
ters political and civil, or such as are divine ; and
that whilst he is waking, and hath the ordinary
vigour and use of his senses ; this is such a one of
whom it is said, that he speaks by the Holy Spirit.'
In this definition we may seem to have the strain
of the Book of Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes,
fully deciphered to us. In like manner we find
this, degree of inspiration described by R. Albo,t
* More Nev. Part 11. cap. 45. f Maam. iii. cap. 10.

248 QF PROPHECY.
after he had set down the other degrees superior to
it, i3Ti ij73E is» =n«n- ia njw k6v tik -w pro «rt6 nns'
'iai nnnn nans « Now to explain to you what is that
other door of divine influx, through which none
can enter by his own natural ability ; it is when a
man utters words of wisdom, or song, or divine
praise, in pure and elegant language, besides his
wont : so that every one that knows him, ad
mires him for this excellent knowledge and com
posure of words ; but yet he himself knows not from
whence this faculty came to him, but is as a chUd
that learns a tongue, and knows not from whence,
he had this faculty. Now the excellence of this
degree of divine inspiration is well known to all,
for it is the same with that which is caUed the Holy
Spirit.' Or, if you please, we shall render these
definitions of our former Jewish doctors in the
words of Proclus, who hath very happily set forth
the nature of this piece of divine inspiration, ac
cording to their mind, in these words,* ' Q he %agax.-
rrjg ivSouataartxbg, hiukdpiruv ralg voegaig iirifiokaTg, xa%a-
gbg re xai aepvbg, ug airb irargbg reksiou(jbsvog ruv &suv,
efyftkayybsvog re xai viregeyuv ruv dv^guirivuv ivvoiuv, afi-
go? hs b[tiOu xai xarairknxnxbg, xai yagiruv avd^sarog,
xdkkoug rs irkrjgng, xai auvropbog apa xai dirnxgi$w\xkvog,
' This degree or enthusiastical character, shining
so bright with the inteUectual influences, is pure
and venerable, receiving its perfection from the
father of the gods, being distinct from human con
ceptions, and far transcending them, always con
joined with delightfulness and amazement, full of
beauty and comeliness, concise, yet withal exceed
ing accurate.' * Lib. V. in Plat. Tim.

OF PROPHECY.' 219
This kind of divine inspiration therefore was al
ways more pacate and serene than the other of
prophecy, neither did it so much fatigate and act
upon the imagination. For though these Hagio- '
graphi or holy writers ordinarily expressed them
selves in parables and simUitudes, which is the pro
per work of fancy ; yet they seem only to have
made use of such a dress of language to set off
their own sense of divine things, which in itself
was more naked and simple, the more advantage
ously, as we see commonly in all other kind of
writings. And seeing there was no labour of the
imagination in this way of revelation, therefore it
was not communicated to them by any dreams or
visions, but while they were waking, and their
senses were in their fuU vigour, their minds calm ;
it breathing upon them, ug iv yaknvri, as Plotinus
describes his pious enthusiast ;* 'AgiraaSeig n evfau-
aidaag nauyjj iv egn^u xaraardast ysy'svnrai, drgepei rrj
aurou ohaia ouhapou diroxkivuv. For indeed this en
thusiastical spirit seated itself principally in the
higher and purer faculties of the soul, whichw^re
uairsg dvrauysia irgbg auynv, that I may allude to the
ancient opinion of Empedocles, who held there
were two suns, the one archetypal, which was al
ways in the inconspicable hemisphere of the world,
but the beams thereof shining upon this world's
sun, were reflected to us, and so further enlighten
ed us.
Now this kind of inspiration, as it always acted
pious souls info strains of devotion, or moved them
strongly to dictate matters of true piety and good-

* Enn. VI. -Lib. ix. cap. 11.
I i

250 OF PROPHECY.
ness, did manifest itself to be of a divine nature :
and as it came in abruptly upon the minds of those
holy men without courting their private thoughts,
but transported them from that temper of mind
they were in before, so that they perceived them
selves captivated by the power of some higher light
than that which their own understanding common
ly poured out upon them, they might know it to be
more immediately from God.
For indeed, that seems to be the main thing
wherein this holy spirit differed from that constant
spirit and frame of holiness and goodness dwelling
in hallowed minds, that it was too quick, potent,
and transporting a thing, and was a kind of vital
form to that light of divine reason which they were'
perpetually possessed of. And therefore sometimes
it runs out info a foresight or prediction of things
to come, though, it may be, those previsions were
less understood by the prophet himself; as we
might instance if it were needful, in some of Da
vid's prophecies, which seem to have been revealed
to him not so much for himself (as the apostle
speaks) as for us. But it did not always spend it
self in strains of devotion or dictates of virtue,
wisdom, and prudence ; and therefore, if I may
take leave here to express my conjecture, I should
think the ancient Jews called this degree Spiritus
Sanctus, not because it flows from the third person
in the Trinity, which I doubt they thought not of
in this business, but because of the near affinity and
alliance it hath with that spirit of holiness and true
goodness that always lodgeth in the breasts of good
men. And this seems to be insinuated in an old
proverbial speech of the Jewish masters, quoted by

OF PROPHECY. 251
Maimonides in the forecited place, Majestas Divina
habitat super eum, et loquitur per Spiritum Sanctum.
Though some think it might be so caUed as being
the lowest degree of divine inspiration : for some
times the most ancient monuments of Jewish learn
ing call all prophecy by the name of Spiritus Sanctus.
So in Pirke R. Eliezer, cap. 39. R. Phineas inquit,
requievit Spiritus Sanctus super Josephum ab ipsius
juventute usque ad diem obitus ejus, atque direxit eum
in omnem sapientiam, &c. ' The Holy Spirit rested
upon Joseph from his youth till the day of his
death, and guided him into all wisdom,' &c.
Though it may be all that might be but a Hagio-
graphical spirit : for indeed the Jews are wont, as
we showed before, to distinguish Joseph's dreams
from prophetical. But this Spiritus Sanctus in the
same chapter, to put all out of doubt, is attributed
to Isaiah and Ezekiel, which were known prophets :
and chap, xxxiii. R. Phineas ait, postquam omnes
illi interfecti fuerant, viginti annis in Babel requievit
Spiritus Sanctus super Ezekielem, et eduxit eum ex
convalle Dora, et ostendit ei multa ossa, &c. And
among those five things that the Jews always sup
posed the second temple to be inferior to. the first
in, one was the want of the isnipn nn Spiritus Sanc
tus, or spirit of prophecy.
But we are here to consider this Spiritus Sanctus
more strictly, and as we have formely defined it out
of Jewish antiquity. And here we shall first show
what books of the Old Testament were ascribed to
this degree by the Jews. The Old Testament was
by the Jews divided into cs'awai cars'aj prnn ' the
law, the prophets, and the dyibygapa.' And this
division is insinuated in Luke xxiv. 44. " And

252 OF PROPHECY.
Jesus said unto them, these are the words which
I spake unto you while I was yet with you, that
all things must be fulfilled which were written con
cerning me in the law of Moses, and in the pro
phets, and in the Psalms :" where, by the Psalms,
may seem to be meant the Hagiographa ; for the
writers of these Hagiographa might be termed
psalmodists for some reasons which we shall touch
upon hereafter in this discourse. But to return ; the
Old Testament being anciently divided into these
parts, it may not be amiss to consider the order of
these parts as it is laid down by the Talmudical
doctors in Gemara Bava Bathra, cap. 1. towards the
end, '«i ys'aj Hw pa p-i un < Our doctors have de
livered unto us this order of the prophets, Joshua,
Judges, Samuel, Kings, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Isaiah,
and the twelve prophets, the first of Which is Hosea,'
for so they understand those words in Hos. i. 2.
yw'ins n\n) "i?n nVni-i Deus inprimis locutus est per
Hoseam. The same Gemarists go on to lay down
the order of the dyibygapa thus ; • Ruth, the Book
of Psalms, Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Canticles,
Lamentations, Daniel, Esther, Ezra, the Chroni
cles :' And these the Jews did ascribe to the
Ruach hakkodesh. But why Daniel • should be
reckoned amongst the ca'aina and not amongst ='K'a:
'the prophets,' I can see no reason, seeing the
strain of it wholly argues the nature of a propheti
cal degree spending itself in dreams and visions,
though those were joined with more obscurity (it
being then the crepusculum of the prophetical day,
which had long been upon the horizon of the Jew
ish church) than in the other prophets. And
therefore whatever the latter Jews here urge, for

OF PROPHECY. 253
thus ranking up Daniel's books with the other
D'ama yet seeing they give us no traditional reason
which their ancestors had for so doing, I should
rather think it to have been first of all some for
tuitous thing which gave an occasion to this after-
mistake, as I think it is.
But to pass on, besides those books mentioned,
there were some things else among the Jews usually
attributed to this Spiritus Sanctus : and so Maimo
nides in the forementioned place teUs us that Eldad
and Medad,, and all the high priests who asked
counsel by Urim and Thummim, spake per Spiritum
Sanctum, so that it was a character enthusiastical
whereby they gave judicial answers, by looking
upon the stones of the high priest's breastplate, to
those that came to inquire of God by them. And
so R. Bechai in Parash miyn speaks of ' one of the
degrees of the Holy Spirit which was superior to
Bath Kol (i. e.filia vocis) and inferior to prophecy.'
ia pitas'?! Sip ma ia rhyxh ismpn nn nunn1? ma pvn
pisujn It wiU not be amiss by a short digression
to show what this Urim and Thummim was : and
we may take it out of our former author R. Bechai,
who, for the substance, agrees with the generality
and best of the Jewish writers herein. It was, as
he there tells us, done in this manner. The high
priest stood before the ark, and he that came to in
quire of the Urim and Thummim stood behind him*.
inquiring with a submissive voice, as if he had been
at his private prayers, Shall I do so, or so ? Then
the high priest looked upon the letters which were
engraven upon the stones of the breastplate, and
by the concurrence of an enthusiastical spirit of
divination of his own (if 1 may add thus much

254 OF PROPHECY.
upon the former reasons to that which he there
speaks) with some modes whereby those letters ap
peared, he shaped out his answer. But for those
that were allowed to inquire at this oracle, they
were none else but either the king or the whole
congregation, as we are told in Massec. Sotah, y*
•jbaiKTos *»6k ^kw 'None may inquire of it but
the congregation of the people, or the king ;' by
which it seems it was a political oracle.
But to return to our argument in hand, viz.
What pieces of divine writ are ascribed to the
icnipn nn or Spiritus Sanctus ; we must further know
that the Jews were wont to reckon all those psalms
or songs which we any where meet with in the Old
Testament among the aa'aina. For though they were
penned by the prophets, yet because they were not
the proper results of a visum propheticum, therefore
they were not true prophecy : for they have a com
mon tradition, that the prophets did not always pro
phesy eodem gradu, but sometime in a higher, some
time in a lower degree, as among others we are ful
ly taught by Abarbanel in Is. iv. upon occasion of
that song of Isaiah ™hv nma r-nisa -in« mj; sssr
' The same prophet prophesies sometimes in the
form of the supreme prophetical degree, and some
times in a lower degree, la^a anipn ni-o ik or by the
Holy Spirit only.' And thus having made his way,
iie tells us that common notion they had amongst
them, ' that all songs were dictated by this Spiritus
Sanctus,' 'iai O'K'aan nana roinrw r-rw Saicr « Every song
that is found in the writings of the prophets, it was
such a thing as was ordered or dictated by the pen
men themselves, together with the superintendency
of the Holy Spirit : forasmuch as they received

OF PROPHECY. 255
them not in that higher way which is caUed pro
phecy, as all visions were received, for all visions
were perfect prophecy.' But the author goes on
further to declare his, and indeed the common opi
nion, concerning any such song, that it was not
the proper work of God himself, but the work of
the prophet's own spirit, Syaa ok 'a 'n bjraa w« jabi
pvyik -man K'aan. Yet we must suppose the prophet's
spirit enabled by the conjunction of divine help
with it, as he puts in the caution, "tfjn nn ins niW
O'n'rK « the Spirit of God and his divine assistance
did stUl cleave unto the prophet, and was present
with him.' For, as he tells us, the prophets, being
so much accustomed to divine visions as they were,
might be able sometime per vigiliam, without any
prophetical vision, to speak excellently by the Holy
Ghost, 'wan njbsni nvban 'si'3 « with very elegant lan
guage, and admirable simUitudes.' And this he
there proves from hence, that these songs are com
monly attributed to the prophet himself, and not to
God, there being so much of the work of the pro
phet's own spirit in them, sb ='nbx Tan sinan mon' p1?
'1:1 pwia iw tk aan mi'tea -ias pun '3 T,-i3n' avh '.Where
fore the Scripture commonly attributes these songs
to the prophets themselves, and not unto God ; and
accordingly speaks of the song at the Red Sea,*
" Then Moses and the people of Israel sang this
song," that is, Moses and the chUdren of Israel did
compose and order it. So in the song at Beer-Elim,
" Then sang Israel this song."t So in Moses'
song in the latter end of Deuteronomy, which was
to be preserved as a memorial, the conclusion runs,
• Exod. xv. 1 — 22. f Num. xxi. 17.

25,6 OF PROPHECY.
"Set your hearts upon all those words, Typ *ijN ItpNj
Disrr Dpi which I testify to you this day."* So all
those psalms which are supposed to have been com
posed by David, are perpetually ascribed unto him,
and the rest of them that were composed by others-
are in like manner ascribed unto them ; whereas
the prophetic strain is very different, always en
titling God to it, and so is brought in with such
kind of prologues, " the word of the Lord," or
" the hand of the Lord," or the like.
But enough of that : yet seeing we are fallen
now upon the original author of these divine songs
and hymns, it will not be amiss to take a little no
tice of the frequency of this degree of prophecy,
which is by songs and hymns composed by an en
thusiastical spirit, among the Jews. We find many
of these prophets besides David, who were authors
of sundry psalms bound up together with his ; for
we must not think all are his : as after the 72d
Psalm we have eleven together which are ascribed
to Asaph, the 88th to Heman, the 89th to Ethan,
some to Jeduthun, and very many are incerti au-
thoris, as it seems, being anonymous. Thus Kim-
chi in his preface to the Psalms, and the rest of the
Hebrew scholiasts, suppose divers authors to have
come in for their particular songs in that book.
And these divine enthusiasts were commonly
wont to compose their songs and hymns at the
sounding of some one musical instrument or other,
as we find it often suggested in the Psalms. So
Plutarch,* describes the dictate of the oracle anci
ently, dig b fisrgu xai oyxu, xai irkdapuart xai Uisrapogalg
* Deut. xxxii. 46. f Lib. ni{l rou /iii ^S.y i/tfiirgx wv rh IlvSiar.

OF PROPHECY. .257
ivo\hdruv, xai oat aukou, ' how that it was uttered in
verse, in pomp of words, similitudes, and metaphors,
at the sound of a pipe.' Thus we have Asaph,
Heman, and Jeduthun set forth in this prophetical
preparation, " Moreover David and the captain of
the host separated to the service of the sons of
Asaph, and of Heman, and of Jeduthun, who
should prophesy with harps,"* &c. Thus R. Sal.
expounds the place, vn iV?n n-w '"?aa cawwn nwa
'iai iwbtsa xaan ca'toana « When they played upon
their musical instruments they prophesied, after
the manner of Elisha, who said, " Bring me a min
strel."! And in the forementioned place, ver. 3.
upon those words " who prophesied with a harp,"
he thus glosseth, rn'ibbn'niatai nsnin'mata -iiraa vjub vrneo-
: K3jna m'n <¦ As they sounded upon the harp the
psalms of praise and the hallelujahs, Jeduthun their
father prophesied.' And this sense of this place I
think is much more genuine than that which a late
author of our own would fasten upon it, viz. that
this prophesying was nothing but singing of psalms.
For it is manifest that these prophets were not
mere singers, but composers, and such as were
truly caUed prophets or enthusiasts : so, ver. 5.
Heman is expressly called the king's seer ; the like
in 2 Chron. xxix. 30. and xxxv. 15. of Asaph, He-
man, and Jeduthun, ifytpn nj/in upon which our for
mer commentator glosseth thus, mm pvn insi -inx Sa
unusquisque eorum erat propheta. It is true, the
poets are anciently called votes, but that is no good
argument why a singer should be called a prophet :
for it is to be considered that a poet was a com-
* 1 Chron. xxv. 1. t - Kings iii. 15.
K k

258 OF PROPHECY,
poser, and upon that account by the ancients called
vates, or a prophet, and that because they generally
thought all true poets were transported. So Plato
in his Phaedrus makes three kinds of fury, viz. en
thusiastical, amatorious, and poetical. But of this
matter we shall speak more under the next head,
which we are in a manner unawares faUen upon,
which is, to inquire in general into the qualification
of all kind of prophets.

CHAP. VIII.

Of the dispositions antecedent and preparatory to prophecy. That
the qualifications which did fit a man for the prophetical spirit
were such as ttiese, viz. inward piety, true wisdom, a pacate and
serene temper of mind, and a due cheerfulness qf spirit ; in op
position to viciousness, mental crazedness and inconsistency, un
subdued passions, black melancholy, and dull sadness. This
illustrated by several instances hi Scripture. That music was
greatly advantageous to the prophets and holy men of God, fyc.
What is meant by Sauts evil spirit.
vJUR next business is to discourse of those sever
al qualifications that were to render a man fit for
the spirit of prophecy : for we must not think that
any man might suddenly be made a prophet : this
gift was not so fortuitously dispensed as to be com
municated without any discrimination of persons.
And this indeed all sorts of men have generally
concluded upon ; and therefore the old Heathens
themselves, that only sought after a spirit of divina
tion, were wont in a solemn manner to prepare and"

OF PROPHECY. 259
fit themselves for receiving the influx thereof, as
R. Albo hath truly observed,* caw mia-npn niaisn vn
'iai nms « The ancient Gentiles made themselves
images, and offered prayers and frankincense to
the stars, that by this means they might draw down
a spiritual influence from some certain stars upon
their image. For this influence slides down from
the body of the star upon the man himself, who is
also corporeal, and by this means he foretells what
shall come to pass.' And thus, as he further ob
serves, the necromancers themselves were wont to
use many solemn rites an d ceremonies to call forth
the souls of any dead men into themselves, where
by they might be able to presage future things.
But to come more closely to our present argument.
The qualifications which the Jewish doctors sup
pose necessarUy antecedent to render any one habi-
lem ad prophetandum are true probity and piety ; and
this was the constant sense and opinion of them all
universally, not excluding the vulgar themselves.
Thus Abarbanel in Praefat. in 12 Proph. '«aa nn'cn
umpn nrh pietas inducit Spiritum Sanctum. The Hke
We find in Maimonides,t who yet thinks this was not
enough ; and therefore he reckons up this as a vul
gar error, which yet he says some of their doctors
were carried away withal, Quod Deus aliquem eli-
gat et mittat, nulla habita ratione an sit sapiens, &c.
' That God may choose of men whom he pleaseth,
and send him, it matters not whether he be wise
and learned, or unlearned and unskilful, old or
young ; only that this is required, that he be a vir
tuous, good, and honest man : for hitherto there
* Maam. iii. cap. 8. \ More Nev. Part II. cap. 32.

260 OF PROPHECY.
was never any that could say that God did cause
the divine majesty to dwell in a vitious person, un
less he had first reformed himself.'
But Maimonides himself rather prefers the
opinion of the wise sages and phUosophers of tlie
Heathen than of these vulgar masters, which re
quired also some perfection in the nature of him
that should be set apart for prophecy, augmented
with study and industry ; ' Whence it cannot be
that a man should go to bed no prophet, and rise
the next day a prophet' (as he there speaks), quem
admodum homo qui inopinatb aliquid invenit. And
a little after he adds, Fatuos et hujus terra? filios
quod attinet, non magis, nostro judicio, prophetare
possunt, quam asinus aut rana.
These perfections therefore which Maimonides
requires as preparatory dispositions to render a
man a prophet, are of three sorts, viz. 1. Acquisite
or rational; 2. Natural or animal; lastly, Moral.
And according to the difference of these he distin
guished! the degrees of prophecy, cap. xxxvi. Has
autem tres perfectiones, &c. • As to these three
perfections which we have here comprised, viz. the
perfection of the rational faculty acquired by study,
the perfection of the imaginative faculty, by birth,
and the perfection of manners or virtuous qualities,
by purifying and freeing the heart and affections
from all sensual pleasures, from all pride, and from
all foolish and pestilent desire of glory; as to
these, I say, it is evident that they are differently,
and not in the same degree, participated by men :
and according to such different measures of parti
cipation the degrees of the prophets are also to be
distinguished.

OF PROPHECY.

261

Thus Maimonides, who indeed in all this did but
aim at this technical notion of his, that all prophe
cy is the proper result of these perfections, as a
form arising out of them all, as out of its elements
compounded together. For it is plain that he
thought there was a kind of prognostic virtue in
souls themselves, which was in this manner to be
excited ; which was the opinion of some philoso
phers, among which Plutarch lays down his sense
in this manner, according to the minds of many
others ; 'H -^uyjj rnv \mvnxnv oux iirixrdrat huvafitv
ixfidaa rou aufiarog uaireg vsipooj, dkk' sypuaa xai vuv,
rupkourai he hid rnv irgbg rb Svyrbv dvdf/ii%iv aurrjg xai
auvypaiv,* ' The soul doth not then first of all attain
a prophetical energy when it leaves the body as a
cloud ; but it now hath it already ; only she is blind
of this eye, because of her concretion with this mor
tal body.' This philosopher's opinion Maimonides
was more than prone to, however he would dissem
ble it, and therefore he speaks of an impotency to
prophesy, supposing all those three quaHfications
named before, as of the suspension of the act
of some natural faculty. So, cap. 32. Meo judi
cio res hic se habet sicut in miraculis, &c. i. e. ' In
my judgment (saith he) the matter here is just so
as it is in miracles, and bears proportion with them.
For natural reason requires, that he who by his na
ture is apt to prophesy, and is diligently taught
and instructed, and of fit age, that such a one
should prophesy ; but he that notwithstanding can
not do so, is like to one that cannot move his hand,
as Jeroboam, or one that cannot see, as those that
* Lib. Tligi rut IxXiXatvoreti; ^o-nsrnomi.

262 OF PROPHECY. .
could not see the tents of the king of Syria, as it
is in the story of Elisha.' And again, cap. 36.
he further beats upon this string, Si vir quidam ita
comparatus fuerit, nullum dubium est, sifacultas ejus
imaginatrix (qua? in summo gradu perfecta est, et
influentiam ab intellectu secundum perfectionem suam
speculativam accipit) laboraverit et in operatione fu
erit, ilium non nisi res divinas et admirandas appre-
hensurum, nihil pra?ter Deum et ejus angelos visu-
rum, nullius denique rei scientiam habiturum et cura-
turum, nisi earum qua? vera? sunt et qua? ad commu-
nem hominum spectant utilitatem. This opinion of
Maimonides I find not any where entertained, only
by the author of the book Cozri. That which
seems to have led him into this conceit, was his
mistaken sense (it may be) of some passages in the
story of the kings that speak of the schools of the
prophets, and the like, of which more hereafter.
But 1 know no reason sufficient to infer any such
thing as the prophetical spirit from the highest im
provement of natural or moral endowments. And
I cannot but wonder how Maimonides" could recon
cile all this with the right notion of prophecy,
which must of necessity include a divine inspira
tion, and therefore may freely be bestowed by God
where and upon whom he pleaseth. Though in
deed common reason will teach us, that it is not
likely that God would extraordinarily inspire any
men, and send them thus specially authorized by
himself to declare his mind authentically to them,
and dictate what, his truth was, who were them
selves vitious and of unhallowed lives ; and so in
deed the apostle Peter tells us plainly, they were
" holy men of God, who spake as they were moved

OF PROPHECY. 263'
by the Holy Ghost."* Neither is it probable that
those who were any way of crazed minds, or who
were inwardly of inconsistent tempers by reason of
any perturbation, could be very fit for these serene
impressions. A troubled fancy could no more re
ceive these ideas of divine truth to be imprest upon
it, and clearly reflect them to the understanding,
than a cracked glass or troubled water can reflect
sincerely any image to be made upon them. And
therefore the Hebrew doctors universaUy agree in
this rule, that the spirit of prophecy never rests
upon any but a holy and wise man, one whose pas
sions are allayed. So the Talmud Massec. Sanhe-
drin, as it is quoted by R. Albo,t ^k paw n«ia:n y«
maip Sjni wj?i -iia'j ana hy i. e. « The spirit of pro
phecy never resides but upon a man of wisdom and
fortitude, as also upon a rich and great man.'
The two last qualifications in this rule Maimo
nides in his Fundamenta Legis hath left out, and in
deed it is full enough without them. But those
other two qualifications of wisdom and fortitude
are constantly laid down by them in this argument.
And so we find it ascribed to the author of. this
canon, who is said to be R. Jochanan,t y* pi' 'n "»k
'131 wraiy mum ns "pn i. e." ' R. Jochanan says, God
doth not make his Shechinah to reside upon any
but a rich and humble man, a man of fortitude, aU
which we learn from the example of Moses our
master.' Where by fortitude they mean nothing
else but that power whereby a good man subdues
his animal part; for so I suppose I may safely
translate that solution of their's which. I have
* 2 Pet. i. 21. f Maam. iii. cap. 10. f Gem. Nedar. cap. i.

264 OF PROPHECY.
sometimes met with, and I think in Pirke Avoth, 'a
inn -«' j?3ian -nan ' Who is the man of fortitude ? It
is he that subdues his figmentum malum,' 'by which
they meant nothing else but the sensual or animal
part : of which more in another discourse. And
thus they give us another rule as it were paraphras-
tical upon the former, which I find Gem. Schab.
cap. 2. where, glancing at that contempt which the
wise man in Ecclesiastes cast upon mirth and
laughter, they distinguish a twofold mirth, the one
divine, the other mundane, and then sum up many
of these mundane and terrene affections with which
this Holy Spirit will not reside Tina Kb mm nraw n*1?
'131 'pinur ^na r^i miVsj? -pna njSi missy « The Divine
presence, or Spiritus Sanctus, doth not reside where
there is grief and dull sadness, laughter and light
ness of behaviour, impertinent talk or idle dis
course ; but with due and innocuous cheerfulness
it loves to reside, according to that which is writ
ten concerning Elisha, " Bring me now a minstrel :
and it came to pass when the minstrel played, the
hand of the Lord was upon him."* Where we see
that temper of mind principally required by. them
is a free cheerfulness, in opposition to all griefs,
anger, or any other sad and melancholy passions.'
So Gem. Pesac. cap. 6. 'in can ate oina nvw ante ha
uaa mpbnDa inteiaj 'in ss'aj as uaa mpSnoa inaan <¦ Every
man when he is in a passion, if he be a wise man,
his wisdom is taken from him ; if a prophet, his
prophecy.' The first part of this aphorism they there declare
by the example of Moses, who they say prophesied
* 2 Kings iii. 15.

OF PROPHECY. 265
not in the wUderness after the return of the spies
that brought an ill report of the land of Canaan,
by reason of his indignation against them : and
the last part from the example of the prophet
Elisha,* of which more hereafter. Thus in the book
Zohar, wherein most ofthe ancient Jewish traditions
are recorded,t 'wi 'ia'!Jj? nn«3 snip nj1? sru'3itn warn sn
' Behold, we plainly see that the divine presence
doth not reside with sadness, but with cheerfulness :
if there be no cheerfulness, it will not abide there ;
as it is written concerning EHsha, who said, " Give
me now a minstrel." But from whence learn we
that the Spirit of God will not reside with heavi
ness ? From the example of Jacob, for all the while
he grieved for Joseph, the Shechinah, or the Holy
Spirit did forsake him.' They had also a common
tradition, that Jacob prophesied not that time while
his grief for the loss of his son Joseph remained
with him. So L. Tosiphta, miasy •yna mw m'sv y*
mnaur -]ma sb« <¦ The spirit of prophecy dwells not
with sadness, but with cheerfulness.' I wiU not
here dispute the punctualness of these traditions
concerning Moses and Jacob, though I doubt not
but the main scope of them is true, viz. that the
spirit of prophecy used not to reside with any black
or melancholy passions, but required a serene and
pacate temper of mind, it being itself of' a mild
and gentle nature ; as it was well observed con
cerning the Holy Ghost in another notion by Ter
tullian in his De Spectaculis, Deus pra?cepit
Spiritum Sanctum, utpote pro natura? sua? bono
tenerum et delicatum, tranquillitate et lenitate, et
* 2 Kings iii. 1.5. t Co1- 408'
LI

266 OF PROPHECY.
quiete et pace traclare ; non furore, non bile, non ira,
non dolore inquietare.
Now, according to this notion, I think we have
gained some light for the further understanding of
some passages in the fifty-first Psalm, which the
Chaldee paraphrast and Hebrew commentators also
understand of the spirit of prophecy, which was
taken from David in that time of his sorrow and
grief of mind, upon the reflection of his shameful
miscarriage in the matter of Uriah ; and this is called
nana nn « a free spirit," ver. 12. or a spirit of alacrity
and liberty of mind, acting by generous and noble
and free impulses upon it : and it is paraphrased by
"joy and gladness," ver. 8. as being that temper of
mind which it most liberally moved and acted upon ;
as likewise a like periphrasis is used of it, " the joy
of God's salvation;" ver. 12. and David thus
prayeth for the restoration of it to him, and the
establishing him in the firm possession of it,
" Create in me a clean heart, O God, wnn |i33 nTY} "
¦>2"\p2 and renew a fixed spirit within me." ver. 10.
As if he had said, Thy Holy Spirit of prophecy
dwells in no unhallowed minds, but with purity
and holiness ; and when these are violated, that
presently departs ; the holy and the impure spirit
cannot converse together : therefore cleanse my
heart of all pollution, that this divine guest, being
restored to me, may find a constant habitation
within me. And thus both Rasi and Abenezra
gloss on this place, but especially R. Kimchi, who
pursues this sense very largely : and so before
them the Talmudists had expounded it,* where
* Gem. Joma. cap. 2.

OF PROPHECY.

267

they thus descant upon those words, " Take not thy
Holy Spirit from me," ver. 11. and tell us how
David was punished by leprosy and double excom
munication ; one from this spirit, "i'" inni a'ltnn rwv
i-iraip ua'n mpVnoji imnja uan iunsi which words I find
most corruptly translated by Vorstius in his Com
ment upon Maimonides' Fundamenta Legis. I
should therefore thus render them in their native
and genuine sense, Per sex menses erat David le-
prosus (viz. propter peccatum in negotio Uria? ad-
missum,) et separabant se ab eo viri synagoga? magna?,
atque ablata est ab eo Shechinah (i. e. spiritus pro-
pheticus.J Primum constat ex Psalm cxix. ubi dici
tur, Revertantur ad me timentes te, et scientes testimo-
nia tua : alterum ex Psalm li. ubi dicitur, Foe rever-
tatur ad me hetitia salutis tua?.
But it is now time to look a little into that
place which the masters constantly refer to in this
notion, viz. 2 Kings iii. where, when the kings of
Israel, and Judah, and Edom, in their distress for
water, upon their warlike expedition against the
king of Moab, came to Elifcha to inquire of God
by him, the prophet seems to have been moved
with indignation against the king of Israel, and so
makes a very unwelcome address to him, " Surely
were it not that I regard the presence of Jehosa-
phat the king of Judah, I would not look toward
thee, nor see thee :" ver. 14. and then it follows,
" But now bring me a minstrel : and it came to
pass when the minstrel played, that the hand of
the Lord came upon him." ver. 15. Which words
are thus expounded by R. D. Kimchi, out of the
Rabbins, (with which R. S. Jarchi, and R. L. Ben
Gersom agree for the substance of his meaning)

268 OF PROPHECY.
'iai nns pbnwttr avaa matt « Our doctors tell us, that
from that day wherein his master Elijah was taken
up into heaven, the spirit of prophecy remained
not with him for a certain time ; for, for this cause
he was very sorrowful, and the divine Spirit doth
not reside with heaviness.' Others say that by
reason of the indignation he conceived against the
king of Israel, he was ' disquieted in his mind ;'
and touching this they say, ' that whensoever a
prophet is disturbed through anger or passion, the
Holy Spirit forsakes him.' From whence learn
we this ? From the example of EHsha, who said,
"Give me a minstrel."
Thus we may by this time see the reason why
musical ^^instruments were so frequently used by the
prophets, especially the hagiographi ; which indeed
seems to be nothing else but that their minds might
be thereby put into a more composed, liberal, and
cheerful temper, and so the better disposed and
fitted for the transportation of the prophetical spi
rit. So we have heard before out of 1 Chron. xxv.
how Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun composed their
divine poems at the sound of the choir music of
the temple. Another famous place we find for this
purpose, 1 Sam. x. which place, as well as the for
mer, hath been, I think, much mistaken and misin
terpreted by some of singing ; whereas certainly it
cannot be meant of any thing less than divine poe
try, and a composure of hymns excited by a divine
energy, inwardly moving the mind. In that place,
Samuel having anointed Saul king of Israel, to as
sure him that it was so ordained of God, he teUs
him of some events that should occur to him a Ht
tle after his departure froni him ; whereof this is

OF PROPHECY. 269
one, that meeting with some prophets, he himself
should find the impulses of a prophetical spirit also
moving in him. These prophets are thus described,
" After that, thou shalt come to the hill of God,
&c. and it shaU come to pass when thou art come
thither to the city, that thou shalt meet a company
of prophets coming down from the high place, with
a psaltery, and a tabret, and a pipe, and a harp be
fore them ; and they shaU prophesy. And the
Spirit of the Lord shall come upon thee, and thou
shalt prophesy with them, and shalt be turned into
another man." ver. 5, 6. Where this music which
they were accompanied with, was to vigorate and
compose their minds, as Kimchi comments upon the
place, t^s row ro'K enpn nn 'a -iuai W?m *|ini ha: ssvish"1
'131 mnaic yno < And before them was a psaltery (or
lute), and a tabret, and a pipe, and a harp : foras
much as the Holy Spirit dwells no where but with
alacrity and cheerfulness : and they prophesied, that
is, as Jonathan the Targumist expounds it, they
praised God : as if he had said, their prophecies
were songs and praises to God, uttered by the Holy
Ghost.' Thus he.
Now as this divine spirit thus acted free and
cheerful souls, so the evU spirit actuated sad, melan
choly minds, as we heard before, and as we may see
in the example of Saul. And indeed that evU
spirit which is said to have possessed him, seems to
be nothing else originally but anguish and grief of
mind, however wrought upon by some tempting in
sinuations of an evU spirit. And this sometimes
instigated him to prophesy after the fashion of such
melancholy fury : " And it came to pass on the
morrow, that the evil spirit from God came upon

270 OF PROPHECY.
Saul, and he prophesied in the midst ofthe house ;"*
which Jonathan renders by Kno ua nsnwK insanivit in
medio domus, or, as Kimchi expounds the para-
phrast, mioitr nan -arm pvn locutus est verba stultitia?.
So also R. Solom. upon this place expounds it to
the same purpose.
So that, according to the strain of all the Jewish
scholiasts, by this evil spirit of Saul nothing else is
here meant but a melancholy kind of madness,
which made him prophesy, or speak distractedly and
inconsistently. To these we may add R. L. B.
Gersom, inn nn ma'oa anabna a'-on m'an fina -arva pvn
' He spake in the midst of the house very confus
edly, by reason of that evil spirit.' Now as this
evU spirit was indeed fundamentally, as I said,
nothing else but a sour and distracted temper of
mind, arising from the terrene dregs of melancholy,
grief, and malice, whereby Saul was at that time
vexed ; so the proper cure of it was the harmony
and melody of David's music, which was therefore
made use of to compose his mind, and to allay
these turbulent passions. And that was the reason
(as I hope by this time it appears) why this music
was so frequently used, viz. to compose the animal
part, that aU kind of perturbations being dispelled,
and a fine gentle yakrivn or tranquillity ushered in,
the soul might be the better disposed for the divine
breathings of the prophetical spirit, which enter
not at random into any sort of men. Mbvog ydg aopbg
ogyavov Qeou ianv nypuv, xgouopsvov xai irknrTO[hevov dogdrug
vir' aurou, as Philo hath well expressed it upon this
occasion ; these divine breathings enter only into
' 1 Sam. xviii. 10.

OF PROPHECY. 271
those minds that were fitly disposed for them by
moral and acquisite qualifications.

CHAP. IX.

Of the sons or disciples qf the prophets. An account qf several
. schools of prophetical education, as at Naioth in Rama, at Jeru
salem, Bethel, Jericho, GUgal, fyc. Several passages in the
historical books qf Scripture pertinent to this argument ex
plained.
AND therefore we find also frequently such pas
sages in Scripture as strongly insinuate to us that
anciently many were so trained up in a way of
school-discipline, that they might become candidati
prophetia?, and were as probationers to these de
grees, which none but God himself conferred upon
them. Yet while they heard others prophesy,
there was sometimes an afflatus upon them also,
their souls as it were sympathizing, like unisons in
music, with the souls of those which were touched
by the spirit. And this seems to be the meaning
of that story,* where aU Saul's messengers sent to
Naioth in Rama to apprehend David, and at last
he himself, are said to fall a prophesying. For it
is probable that the prophecies there spoken of were
anthems divinely dictated, or doxologies with such
elegant strains of devotion and fancy as might also
* 1 Sam. xix.

272 OF PROPHECY.
excite and stir up the spirits of the auditors : as we
often find that any admirable discourses, in which
there is a cheerful and free flowing forth of a rich
fancy in an intelligible, and yet extraordinary way,
are apt to beget a symbolizing quality of mind in a
by-stander. And the above-mentioned notion is clearly sug
gested by the Jewish writers, who tell us that this
Naioth in Rama was indeed a school of prophetical
education, and so the Targum expounds the word
Naioth, josSik n'a domus doctrina?, i. e. prophetia?.
And R. Levi B. G. f r ^« a'te'sib «m» n'a rvrw nate
a't«'3:n mnpV <¦ Our masters say that there was a
school for the prophets near the city of Ramah, to
which the prophets congregated :' ancl to the like
purpose R. Solomon. And it is further insinuated
that Samuel was the president of this school or col
lege ; as disciplining those young scholars, and
training them up to those preparatory qualifications
which might more fully dispose them for prophe
cy ; and also prophesying to them in sacred hymns,
or otherwise, whereby their spirits might receive
some tincture of a like kind. For so we find it,
ver. 20. " And when they saw the company of the
prophets prophesying, and Samuel standing as ap
pointed over them, the Spirit of God was upon the
messengers of Saul, and they also prophesied."
Where the Chaldee paraphrast translates DiN^l? or
prophesying, by pniwp praising God with sacred
hymns and hallelujahs, according to the common
strain of the prophetical degree which was called
Spiritus Sanctus. And so R. Kimchi and R. Levi
B. G. here ascribe it anipn nnS <¦ to the Holy Spirit.'
Among these prophets it is said, " Samuel stood as

OF PROPHECY. 273
appointed over them," that is, jinvity )^a DN|?
' He stood as a teacher or master over them,' as
the Chaldee paraphrast reads it. But R. Levi B.
G. strains a little higher, and perhaps too high,
yr\h$ hs -wvt nnn ja ysipn < He derived forth from
himself, of his own prophetical spirit, by way of
emanation, upon them.' Though this kind of lan
guage be very suitable to the notions of those mas
ters who would fain persuade us that almost all the
prophets prophesied by virtue of some influence
faying forth from the spirit of some other prophet
into them : and Moses himself they make the com
mon conduit through whom all prophetical influ
ence was conveyed to the rest of the prophets. A
conceit, I think, a little too nice and subtile to be
understood. But to return, upon this ground we have sug
gested, these disciples of the prophets are called
a't?'3Jn ya « sons ofthe prophets :' and these are they
which are meant* (the place we named before) in
those words, ffW"1!? "730 ' a company of the pro
phets,' that is, as the Targum renders it, NJ19D nyip
coitus scribarum, ' a company of scribes,' for so
these young scholars were anciently called ; or if
you please rather in Kimchi's language, s-s'nsa nyo
a'te'ajn n'aVn vn nto anaia itnpj a'aan n'aSn 'a D'TaSn h'-\
'131 anna ' a company of scribes, that is, scholars :
for the scholars of the wise men were called
scribes : for they were the scholars of the greater
prophets, and. these scholars were called the sons
of the prophets. Now the greater prophets which
lived in that time from Eli to David were Samuel,
Gad, Nathan, Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun.'
* 1 Sam. a. 5.
M m

274 OF PROPHECY.
And thus we must understand the meaning of
that question, " Who is their father?" ver. 12.
which gave occasion to that proverbial speech af
terwards commonly used amongst the Jews, " Is
Saul also amongst the prophets ?" used of one that
was suddenly raised up to some dignity or perfec
tion which by his education he was not fitted for.
And therefore the Chaldee paraphrast minding the
scope of the place renders DiTlNt ia " Who is their
father?" by lirqn ]a ' Who is their master?' which
Kimchi approves, and accordingly expounds tha't
proverb in this manner, rftyan nViy "7SU? DTN nimiO
DiNiin VlNtf nar[ nail* inn ' When any one was
raised from a low state to any dignity, they used to
say, ' Is Saul also among the prophets ?" But R.
Solomon would rather keep the Hteral sense of those
words, " Who is their father ?" and therefore sup
poseth something more than we here contend for,
viz. That prophecy was a kind of hereditary thing.
For so he speaks, ' Do not wonder for that he is
called the father of them, sn rwi-v nana 'a that is,
for prophecy is a hereditary thing.' But I think
we may content ourselves with what our former
authors have told us, to which we may add the tes
timony of R. Levi B. Gersom, who tells us that
these prophets here spoken of were the scholars of
Samuel who trained them up to a degree of pro
phetical perfection, and so is called their father,
ronton bx as'3ni Steins ante nato <¦ because Samuel in
structed them, and trained them up by his disci
pline to a degree of prophetical perfection.*
Of these disciples we find very frequent mention
in Scripture ; so 2 Kings iv. we read ofthe sons or
disciples of the prophets in Gilgal. And chap. vi.

OF PROPHECY. 275
EHsha is there brought in as their master, at whose
command they were, and therefore they ask leave
to enlarge their dwellings. And Elisha himself
was trained up by Elijah, as his disciple ; and there
fore in 2 Kings in. it was thought a reason good
enough to prove that he was a prophet, for that he
had been Elijah's disciple, and " poured water up
on his hands," as all the Jewish scholiasts observe.
And Elisha sends one of these his ministering dis
ciples to anoint Jehu to be king of Israel.* And
the young prophet sent to reprove Ahab for spar
ing Ben-hadad king of Syriat is caUed by the Chal
dee paraphrast Niiiq inp^n 13.3a in frOS?. ' One of
the sons, the disciples of the prophets.' And hence
it was that Amos Urgeth the extraordinariness
of his commission from God, " I was no prophet,
nor was I a prophet's son."t mteaa mtenj1? iai» nn sb
wiTabn 'He was not prepared for prophecy, or
trained up so as to be fitted for a prophetical func
tion by his discipleship,' as Abarbanel glosseth up
on the place. And therefore divine inspiration
found him out of the ordinary road of prophets,
among his herds of cattle, and in an extraordinary
way moved him to go to Bethel, there to declare
God's judgments against king and people, even in
the king's chapel. To conclude : In the New Tes
tament, when John the Baptist and our Saviour
called disciples to attend upon them and to learn
divine oracles from them, it seems to have been no
new thing, but that which was the common custom
of the old prophets.
Now of these prophets there were several schools
* 2 Kingsix. 1. f 1 Kings xx. 3.5. J Amos vii. H.

276 OF PROPHECY.
or colleges, as the Jews observe, in several cities,
according as occasion was to employ them. So
we read of a college in Jerusalem,* where Hul-
dah the prophetess lived, which is called rratfP
in the original, and by the Chaldee paraphrast
translated t-us^ite n'a domus doctrina? ; by Kimchi
itrnn n'a ' a school.' So we meet with divers places
set down as those where the residence of those
young prophets was, as Bethel, and Jericho, and
Gilgal, &c.t So Kimchi observes upon the place
'iai nnnte nj?a vn is nn'3i Snaa a'toan ya vrw nai « As
the sons of the prophets were in Bethel and Jeri
cho,- so were there also of them in several other
places. And the main reason why they were
thus dispersed in many of the cities of Israel
was this, that they might reprove the Israelites
that were there : and their prophecy was wholly
according to the exigency of those times ; and
therefore it was that their prophecy was not com
mitted to Writing.' From hence some of the
Jewish writers tell us of a certain Aahouyja of
prophecy, one continually like an evening star
shining upon the conspicable hemisphere, when
another was set. Kimchi tells us of this mystical
gloss upon those words* " Ere the lamp of God
went out,"t mm\ p-i?i nntei nate mteojn -u H>y '3 -mt* itma
mrotsr nma in« "ps Sw w»«r na"pn jppip* sto -ip awn !*»i
nnte in* Sip <¦ This is spoken mystically concerning
the Hght of prophecy, according to that saying
amongst our doctors, the sun riseth and the sun
setteth, that is, ere God makes the sun of one
righteous man to set, he makes the sun of another
righteous man to rise.'
* 2 Kings xxii. 14. \ 2 Kings ii. and iv. \ 1 Sam. iii. S.

OF PROPHECY. 277

CHAP. X.
Of Bath Kol, i, e. filia vocis : That it succeeded in the room qf
prophecy : That it was by the Jews counted the lowest degree qf
revelatum. What places in the New Testament are to be under
stood of it.
W E should come now briefly to speak of the
highest degree of divine inspiration or prophecy,
taken in a general sense, which was the Mosaical.
But before we do that, it may not be amiss to take
notice of the lowest degree of revelation among
the Jews, which was inferior to all that which they
call by the name of prophecy : and this was their
Vip n3 Bath Kol, filia vocis, which was nothing else
but some voice which was heard as descending
from heaven, directing them in any affair as occa
sion served : which kind of revelation might be
made to one, as Maimonides tells us,* that was no
way prepared for prophecy.
Of this filia vocis, we have mention made in one
of the most ancient monuments of Jewish learn
ing,! and otherwhere very frequently among the
Jewish writers, as that which was a frequent thing
after the ceasing of prophecy among the Jews ;
of which more afterward. Josephus t tells a story
of Hircanus the high priest, how he heard this
voice from heaven, which told him of the victory
which his sons had got at Cyzicum against An-
* More Nev. Part II. cap. 42. f pirke R- Eliezer> caP- 44-
j: Archaeol. Lib. XIII. cap. 18.

278 OF PROPHECY.
tiochus the same day the battle was fought ; and
this (he says) while he was offering up incense in the
temple, riva rgoirov auru rb Ssiov sig kbyoug ^X^g, he
was made partaker of a vocal converse with God,
that is by a Sip ma.
This R. Isaac Angarensis L. Cosri strongly
urgeth against the Karra?i or Scripturarii, (a sort of
Jews that reject all Talmudical traditions) that the
grand doctors of the Jews received such traditions
from the seventy-two senators, who were guided
either by a Sip ma or something answerable to it,
in the truth of things, after all prophecy was
ceased,* Sa miaann Sa .mm1? a'nxa m v-nn:on '3 nap
Sip maa iaipaa naijw ma itc pwdj ana npbrttu s^to oier
mi rSw i. e. ' There is a tradition that the men of
the great Sanhedrim were bound to be skiUed in
the knowledge of all sciences, and therefore it is
much more necessary that prophecy should not be
taken from them, or that which should supply its
room, viz. the daughter of voice, and the like.'
Thus he, according to the genius of Talmudical
learning, is pleased to expound the place, where
it is said, that " a law shall go forth out of Zion,"t
of the consistorial decrees of the judges, rulers,
and priests of the Jews, and the great senate of
seventy-two elders, whom he would needs persuade
us to be guided infallibly by this Sip n: or in some
other way nSs nun by some divine virtue, power, or
assistance, always communicated to them, as sup
posed at least that such a heroical spirit as that
spirit of fortitude which belonged to the judges
and kings of Israel, and is called the Spirit of' God,
* Maam. iii. §. 41. f Isa. ii. 5.

OF PROPHECY. 279
(as Maimonides in More Nevoch tells us) had per
petually cleaved to them.
But we shall here leave our author to his Judai-
cal superstition, and take notice of two or three
places in the New Testament which seem to be
understood perfectly of this filia vocis, which the
constant tradition of the Jews assures us to have
succeded in the room of prophecy. The first is
where this heavenly voice was conveyed to our
Saviour, as if it had been the noise of thunder, but
was not well understood by all those that stood by,
who therefore thought that either it thundered, or
that it was a mighty voice of some angel that spake
to him : " Then came there a voice from heaven,
saying, I have both glorified my name, and will
glorify it again. The people, therefore, that stood
by and heard it, said it thundered : others said that
an angel spake to him."* So after our Saviour's
baptism, upon his coming out of the water, the
Evangelist tells us, that " the heavens were opened,
and that the Spirit of God descended upon him
in the shape of a dove, and lo, a voice from hea
ven, saying, This is my beloved Son in whom I
am well pleased."t And last of all we meet with
this kind of voice upon our Saviour's transfigura
tion, which is there so described as coming out of
a cloud, as if it had been loud like the noise of
thunder, " Behold a bright cloud overshadowed
them, and behold a voice out of the cloud, which
said, This is my beloved Son in whom I am well
pleased :"t which voice, it is said, the three disciples ,
that were then with him in the mount, heard, as
* John xii. 28, 29. f Malt. iii. 17. | Matt. xvii. 5, 6.

280 OF PROPHECY.
we are told in the following verse, and also 2 Pet.
i. 17, 18. From whence we are fully informed, that
it was this filia vocis we speak of, which came for
the apostles' sakes that were with him, as a testi
mony of that glory and honour with which God
magnified his son ; which apostles were not yet
raised up to the degree of prophecy, but only made
partakers of a voice inferior to it. The words are
these, " He received from God the Father honour
and glory, when there came such a voice to him
from the excellent glory, This is my beloved Son in
whom I am well pleased. And this voice which
came from heaven, we heard when we were with
him in the holy mount." Now that this was that
very Sip na we speak of, which was inferior to pro
phecy, we may sufficiently learn from the next
verse, " We have also a more sure word of pror
phecy:" for indeed true prophecy was counted
much more authentical than this Sip na as being a
divine inspiration into the mind of the prophet ;
which this was not, but only a voice that moved
their exterior senses ; and by the mediation there
of, informed their minds. And thus we have done
with this argument.

OF PROPHECY. i 281

CHAP. XL
Of the highest degree of divine inspiration, viz. the Mosaical.
Four differences between the divine revelations made to Moses,
and to tke rest qf the prophets. How the doctrine qf men pro
phetically inspired is to approve itself by miracles, or by its rea
sonableness. The sympathy and agreeableness between a holy
wind and divine truth.
V V E now come briefly to inquire into the highest
degree of divine inspiration, which was the Mosai
cal, that by which the law was given ; and this we
may best do by searching out the characteristical
differences of Moses' inspiration from that which
was technically caUed prophecy. And these we
shall take out of Maimonides,* where they are fully
described according to the general strain of aU
the Rabbinical doctrine delivered upon this argu
ment. The first is, That Moses was made partaker of
these divine revelations per vigiliam, whereas God
manifested himself to aU the other prophets in a
dream or vision, when their senses were dgyoi, ma
D'K'3:nSaiff awajn Sa -ikip mttiaj1? r-vtra ntoaa ya w ttnsn
naijji -ij> Kim ntn wai nirai nsnaa ik anna ' What is the
difference between the prophecy of Moses and the
prophecy of all other prophets ? All other prophets
did prophesy in a dream or vision : but Moses our
master when he was awake and standing, according
to what is written.' " And when Moses was gone
into the tabernacle of the congregation to speak
* De Fund. Legis, cap. 7.
Nn

282 OF PROPHECY.
with him, i. e. God, then he heard the voice of one
speaking unto him."* By which it appears he had
free recourse to this heavenly oracle at any time.
And tlierefore the Talmudists have a rule, vai niea
tnSns nt033 aSiya vSk ntta njS n"j? 'That Moses had
never any prophecy in the night-time, i. e. in a
dream or vision of the night, as the other pro
phets had.'
The second difference is, That. Moses prophesied
without the mediation of any angelical power,
by an influence derived immediately from God;
whereas in all other prophecies, as we have showed
heretofore, some angel still appeared to the prophet,
131 i«S» n' Si? a'K'3jn S3 « AU prophets did prophesy
by the help or ministry of an angel, and therefore
they did see that which they saw in parables, or un
der some dark representation ; but Moses prophe
sied without the ministry of an angel.' This he
proves from Numb. xu. 8, where God says of Mo
ses, " I will speak with him mouth to mouth ;" and
Exod. xxxiii. 11. " The Lord spake unto Moses
face to face."
But we must not in this place adhere to that ex
position which Maimonides and the rest of his
countrymen give us of this place, as to forget what
we are told in the New Testament concerning the
ministry of angels which God used in giving the
law itself: and so St. Stephen discourseth of it;t
and St. Paul tells us, " the law was given by the
disposition of angels in the hands of a mediator,"*
that is, Moses, the mediator then between God and
the people. And therefore I should rather think

* Numb. vii. 89. f Acts vii. 55. \ Gal. iii. 19.
5

OF PROPHECY. 283
the meaning of those words " face to face," to im
port the clearness and evidence of the intellectual
light wherein God appeared to Moses, which was
greater than any of the prophets were made parta
kers of. And therefore the old tradition goes of them,
that they saw nn'«a njw KnSpsoa in speculo non lucido
whereas Moses saw in speculo lucido ou hi ahiypdruv, as
Philo teUs us (together with Maimonides) in his book,
Quis Rerum Divin. Haeres sit, that is, without any
impressions or images of things in his imagination in
a hieroglyphical way, as was wont to be in all dreams
and visions ; but by characterizing all immediately
upon his understanding : though otherwise much of
the law was indeed almost little more, for the main
scope and aim of it, but an emblem or allegory.
But there may be yet a farther meaning of those
words " face to face," and that is, the friendly and
amicable way whereby aU divine revelations were
made to Moses; for so it is added in the text, " As
a man speaketh unto his friend.'"
And this is the third difference which Maimo
nides assigns, viz. a'JJinnai onnsji ckt D'«'3Jn Sa
' All the other prophets were afraid and trou
bled, and fainted ; but Moses was not so : for the
Scripture saith, " God spake to him as a man speaks
to his friend ;" that is to say, as a man is not afraid
to hear the words of his friend, so was Moses able
to understand the words of prophecy without any
disturbance and astonishment of mind.'
The fourth and last difference is the liberty of
Moses' spirit to prophesy at all times, as we heard
before out of Numb. vii. 89- He might have re
course at any time to the sacred oracle, in the ta
bernacle, which spake from between the cherubim :

284 OF PROPHECY.
and so Maimonides lays down this difference, Sa
wvw mj? Sas o'K'32nn y» o'tt'SJh « None of the prophets
did prophesy at what time they would, save Moses,
who was clothed with the Holy Spirit when he
would, and the spirit of prophecy did abide upon
him : neither had he need to predispose his mind or
prepare himself for it, for he was always disposed
and in readiness as a ministering angel ; and there
fore he could prophesy at what time he would, ac
cording to that which is spoken in Numb. ix. 8.
" Tarry you here a Httle, and I will hear what the
Lord will command concerning you.'" Thus Mai
monides, who, I thmk, here somewhat hyperboliz-
eth, and scarce speaks consistently with the rest
of the Hebrew masters. For we may remember
what we heard before concerning the Talmudical
tradition, that Moses' mind was indisposed for pro
phecy when he was transported with indignation
against the spies ; though I think it is most proba
ble that he had a greater liberty of prophesying
than any other of the prophets.
Now this clear distinct kind of inspiration made
immediately upon an inteUectual faculty in a fa
miliar way, which we see was the gradus Mosaicus,
was most fit and proper for laws to be administered
in : which was exceUently took notice of by Plu
tarch in that discourse of his,* where he teUs us
the poetry that was usually interlaced with riddles
and parables was taken away in his time, and a
more famfliar way of prophecy brought in ; though
he by a GentUe superstition applies that to his Py-
thia ; @soj apskuv ruv yjgna^uv eirn xai ykuaaag xai irsgt-
* nt(i tiiu /th xwrlpfwrc »»» *w IIi/SvW

OF PROPHECY. 285
pgdaeig xai dadpsiav, ouru htakeyeaSai iragaaxeuaae rolg
yjgupsvotg, &c. ' God hath now taken away from his
oracles poetry, and the variety of dialect, and cir
cumlocution, and obscurity ; and hath so ordered
them to speak to those that consult them, as the
laws do to the cities under their subjection, and
kings to their people, and masters to their scholars,
in the most inteUigible and persuasive language.
But by Plutarch's leave this character agrees neither
to his Pythia, nor indeed to Moses himself, who put
a veil upon his face in giving the law itself to the
people, but to our Saviour alone, the dispenser ofthe
true law of God inwardly to the souls of men ; and
therein conversing with them, not so much irgoauiru
irgbg itgbauirov as vy irgbg vouv, not so much ' face to
face' as * mind to mind.'
We have now seen what is this gradus propheti-
cus Mosaicus, which indeed was necessary should
be transcendent and extraordinary, because it was
the basis of aU future prophecy among the Jews:
for aU the prophets mainly aim at that to establish
and confirm the law of Moses, as to the practical
observation of it ; and therefore it was also so
strongly manifested to the Israelites by signs and
miracles done in the sight of all the people, and his
famUiarity and acquaintance with heaven testified
to them all, the divine voice being heard by them
all at mount Sinai ; which dispensation amounted
at least to as much as a Sip ms to the very lowest
of the people. All which considerations put R.
Phineas into such an admiration of this 'Ja nn naj?a
or statio montis Sinai, (as the doctors are wont to
call it) that he determines in Pirke Eliezer, ' That
aU this generation that heard the voice of the holy

286 OF PROPHECY.
blessed God, was worthy to be accounted as the
ministering angels.' But what that voice was
which they heard, the later Jews are scarce well
agreed: but MaimonideSj according to the most
received opinion,* teUs that they only heard those
first words of the law distinctly, viz. " I am the
Lord thy God," and, " Thou shalt have none other
gods," &c. and but only the sound of aU the rest of
the words in which the remainder of the law was
given : and this, as he says, was the great mystery
of that station, so much spoken of by the ancients.
And here by the way we may take notice, that
that divine inspiration which is conveyed to any
oneman, primarily benefits none but himself; and
therefore many times, as Maimonides tells us, it
rested in this private use, not profiting any else but
those to whom it came. And the reason of this is
manifest, for that an inspiration abstractly consi
dered can only satisfy the mind of him to whom it
is made, of its own authority and authenticalness,
as we have showed before : and therefore that one
man may know that another hath that doctrine re
vealed to him by a prophetical spirit which he de
livers, he must also either be inspired, and so be
in gradu prophetico in a true sense, or be confirm
ed in the belief of it by some miracle, whereby it
may appear that God hath committed his truth to
such a one, by giving him some signal power in
altering the course of nature ; which indeed was
the way by which the prophets of old ordinarily
confirmed their doctrine, when they delivered any
thing new to the people ; which course our Saviour
* More Nev. Part II. cap. 53.

OF PROPHECY. 287
himself and his disciples also took to confirm the
truth of the gospel : or else there must be so much
reasonableness in the thing itself, as that by moral
arguments it may be sufficient to beget a belief in
the minds of sober and good men.
And I wish this last way of becoming acquainted
with divine truth were better known amongst us :
for when we have once attained to aJBia^aacjti^e^
fianafiJjfjaailld* we have then attained to the end of
aU prophecy, and see all divine truth that tends to
the salvation of our souls in the divine light, which
always shines in the purity and holiness of the new j
creature, and so need no further miracle to confirm 1
us in it. And indeed that godlike glory and ma
jesty which appear in the naked simplicity of true
goodness, will, by its own connateness and sympa
thy with aU saving truth, friendly entertain and em
brace it.

CHAP. XII.
When the prophetical spirit ceased in the Jewish church. The
cessation of prophecy noted as a famous epocha by the Jews.
The restoring qf the prophetical spirit by Christ. Some passa
ges to this purpose in the New Testament explained. When the
prophetical spirit ceased in the Christian church. That it did
not continue long, proved by several testimonies of the ancient
Writers.
JL HUS we have donewith all those sorts of pro
phecy which we find any mention of: and as a co-
ronis to this discourse, we shall farther inquire a lit-

288 OF PROPHECY,
tie what period of time it was in which this propheti
cal spirit ceased both in the Jewish and Christian
church. In which business, because the Scripture
itself is in a manner sUent, we must appeal to such
histories as are Hke to be most authentical in this
business. And first for the period of time when it ceased
in the Jewish, I find our Christian writers differ
ing. Justin Martyr would needs persuade us that
it was not tUl the a?ra Christiana. This he incul
cates often in his Dialogue with Trypho the Jew,
Ouhsirore iv ru y'evei uj/juv eirauaaro ours irgopnrng ours
dgyjuv, eg orou agyjiv ekafie, peygig ou ourog 'Inaoug Xg«r-
rbg xai y'syovs xai sirakv, ' There never ceased in
your nation either prophet or prince, till Jesus
Christ was born, and had suffered.' And so he often
there tells us that John the Baptist was the last
prophet of the Jewish church ; which conceit he
seems to have made so much of, as thinking to
bring in our Saviour lumine prophetica, with the
greater evidence of divine authority, as the pro
mised Messiah into the world. But Clemens Alex-
andrinus hath much more truly, with the consent of
all Jewish antiquity, informed us, that all prophecy
determined in Malachi, in his Strom. Lib. I. where he
numbers up the prophets of the Jews, making them
thirtyjfive in all, and Malachi as the last. Though
indeed the Talmudists reckon up fifty-five prophets
and prophetesses together, Gem. Mass. MegU. w
miK'33 yaun a'K'aj r-oasn ajnnK yar\ « The Rabbins say
that there were forty-eight prophets and seven
prophetesses that did prophesy to the Israelites :'
which, after they had reckoned almost up, they
teU us that Malachi was the last of them, and that

OF PROPHECY. 289
he was contemporary with Mordecai, Daniel, Hag
gai, Zachariah, and some others, whose prophecies
are not extant, whom for their number sake they
there reckon up, who all prophesied in the second
year of Darius. But commonly they make only
these three, Haggai, Zachariah and Malachi, to be
the last of the prophets, and so call them awaa
awn« so Massec. Sotah, last chapter, where the
Misnical doctors tell us, that from the time in
which aU the first prophets expired, the Urim and
Thummim ceased ; and the Gemarists say that they
are called a'jiipsn asn: « the first prophets,' 'pissS
inrj B'jnnKn 'a«Sai mnnt 'ina < in opposition to Haggai,
Zachariah and Malachi, which are the last.' And
so Maimon. and Bartenor. tell us that the prophe-
ta? priores were so called, because they prophesied
in the times pin n'a of the first temple, and the
posteriores, because they prophesied in the time of
the second temple : and when these latter prophets
died, then aU prophecy expired, and there was left,
as they say, only a Bath Kol to succeed some
time in the room of it. So we are told* »an un
ampn nn npSnoj '3t<Sai mn3t vn a'jnns a'sna marca
: Sip nu I'ttranrca in 'a'yKi Stnrcia * Our Rabbins say,
that from that time the latter prophets died, the
Holy Spirit was taken away from Israel ; neverthe
less they enjoyed the filia vocis:' and this is re
peated in Massec. Joma, cap. 1. Now all that time
which the spirit of prophecy lasted among the Jews
under the second temple, their chronology makes
to be but. forty years. So the author of the book
Cosri,t rw 0'i?3-ikS 3np 'jrc n'33 nsnan m'nnn i. e. ' The
* Gem. Sanhedrim, cap. 1. §.13. f Maam. iii. §. 39.
Oo

290 OF PROPHECY.
continuance of prophecy under the time "of the se
cond temple was almost forty years. And this R.
Jehuda his scholiast confirms out of a historico-cab-
baHstical treatise of R. Abraham Ben Dior, and a
little after he tells us, that after forty years their
sapientes were called senators, y&n ruv cya-iK ins
mSmn mw3 'imr a'tnpj a'asnn * after forty years were
passed, aU the wise men were caUed the men of the
great synagogue.' And therefore the author of
that book useth this sera of the cessation of prophe
cy; and so this is commonly noted as a famous
epocha among all their chronologers, as the book
Juchasin, the Seder Olam Zuta, as R. David Gantz
hath summed them aU up in his chronological his
tory, put forth lately by Vorstius. The like may
be observed from 1 Mac. ix. 27. iv. 46. and
xiv. 41.
This cessation of prophecy determined, as it were,
all that old dispensation wherein God hath mani
fested himself to the Jews under the law, that so by
its growing old and thus wearing away, they might
expect that new dispensation of the Messiah which
had been promised so long before, and which
should again restore this prophetical spirit more
abundantly. And so this interstitium ef prophecy
is insinuated by Joel, in those, words concerning
the latter times ; " In those days shall your sons
and daughters prophesy,"* &c. And so St. Peter
makes use of the place, to take off that admiration
which the Jews were possessed withal to see so
plentiful an effusion of the prophetical spirit again :t
and therefore this spirit of prophecy is caUed the
testimony of Jesus in the Apocalypse, t
* Joel. ii. 28. f Acts ii. 17. \ Rev. xix. 9.
3

OF PROPHECY. 291
According to this notion we must understand
this passage, " The Holy Ghost was not yet given,
because Jesus was not yet glorified."* To which
this also plainly answers : " He ascended up on
high, and gave gifts unto men,"t as likewise the
answer which the Christians at Ephesus made to
Paul, when he asked them whether they had re
ceived the Holy Ghost, " That they knew not
whether there was a Holy Ghost,t that is, whether
there were any extraordinary spirit, or spirit of
prophecy restored again to the church or not, as
hath been weU observed of late by some learned
men. But enough of this.
We come now briefly to dispatch the second in
quiry, viz. What time the spirit of prophecy, which
was again restored by our Saviour, ceased in the
Christian church ? It may be thought that St, John
was the last of Christian prophets, for that the
Apocalypse is the latest dated of any book which
is received into the canon of the New Testament.
But I know no place of Scripture that intimates
any such thing, as if the spirit of prophecy was so
soon to expire. And indeed, if we may believe
the primitive fathers, it did not ; though it over-
Hved St. John's time but a little. || Eusebius tells
us of one Quadratus ov dfjua ralg Qikiirirou Suyarguai
Ugopnrtxu ypgiapart kbyog 's%si hiairgs-^at, ' who, to
gether with the daughters of Philip, had the gift of
prophecy.' So the report was. This Quadratus,
as he tells us, lived in Trajan's time, which was
but at the beginning of the second century. And
a little after, speaking of good men in that age, he
* John vii. 39. + Eph. iv. 8. \ Acts xix. 2. || Hist. Eccles. Lib. III. §. 37.

292 OF PROPHECY.
adds, Tou Seiou irveu^harog sla'srt hi auruv irksiarai
iragdho\oi huvdpsig svfigyouv, ' Many strange and ad
mirable virtues of the Divine Spirit as yet showed
forth themselves by them.' And the same author*
tells us out of Justin Martyr, who lived in the
middle of the second century, and then writ his
apology for the Christians, that the gift of pro
phecy was still to be seen in the church, Tgdpsi he
xai ug on peygt xai aurou yagia^ara irgopqrixd
hiska\jjirsv iiri rrjg 'Exxknaiag.f Yet not long after
ward there is little or no remembrance of the pro
phetical spirit remaining in the church. Hence
the Montanists are, by some of the fathers, proved
to be no better than dissemblers when they pre
tended to the gift of prophecy, for that it was then
ceased in the church. And so Eusebius tells us,t
and withal, that Montanus and his accomplices
only took advantage of that virtue of working
wonders, which yet appeared (as was reported,
though doubtfully) in some places, to make' a
semblance of the spirit of prophecy ; Tuv he dfjupi
TtJiovravbv «a< 'Akxtfitdhnv xai Qebhorov irsgi rnv Qguyiuv
dgn rbrs irgurov rnv irsgi rou irgopnreueiv uirbknipiv zsagd
irokkoig ixpego//j'svuv. HkeTarai yag ouv xai dkkat iraga-
ho\oiroi'iai rou Seiou yagia^arog sia'sn rbrs xara htapbgoug
ixxknaiag sxrskoujjjsvai, iriartv iragd irokkoig rou xdxeivoug
irgopnrsustv irageiypv, xai hn hiapwviag viragyouang m°i ^uv
hshnkupivuv. ' But then especially did Montanus,
Alcibiades, and Theodotus raise up in many an
opinion that they prophesied : and this belief was
* Lib. IV. §. 18.
•]• Vide Justin Martyr, in Dial, cum Tryphone Jud«eo, waja fi/ut xai /iix('
vv* vt^oipyiviKa, %agifffAaru iffnv. -
\ Lib. V. §. 3.

OF PROPHECY. 293
so much the more increased concerning their pro
phesying, for that as yet in several churches were
wrought many miraculous and stupendous effects
of the Holy Spirit ; though yet there was no per
fect agreement in their opinion about this.'
To conclude this, and to hasten to an end of
this discourse of prophecy, there is indeed in an
tiquity, more frequent mention of some * miracles
wrought in the name of Christ ; but less is said
concerning the prophetical virtue, especially after
the second century. That it was rare, and to be
seen but sometimes, and more obscurely in some
few Christians only, who had attained to a good
degree of self-purification, is intimated by that of
Origen in his seventh book against Celsus. Uknv
xai vuv 'in 'iyvn sari tou dyiou irvsu^arog irag' bkiyotg,
rag ypvydg ru kbyu xai raig xar aurbv irgd\eai xexa-
%ag\Jnevoig.

CHAP. XIII.

Some rules and observations concerning prophetical writ in
-general.
Vv E should now shut up all this discourse about
prophecy ; only, before we conclude, it may not
be amiss to add a few rules for the better under
standing of prophetical writ in general.
* And that the gift of working miracles was ceased in his time, St. Chry
sostom doth more than once affirm, Tins Ima-pius -rZt nfa'an ovS "%<ios iraku-
trtTxi, Lib. IV. de Sacerdotio, &c. The like is affirmed by St. Austin.

294^ OF PROPHECY.
1. The first, which yet we shaU rather put under
debate, is concerning the style and manner of
languaging aU pieces of prophecy ; whether that
was not peculiarly the work of the prophet himself;
whether it does not seem that the^rophetical spirit
or principally, yet did
"prophet himself. It may be
conaHered'" that God made not use of idiots or fools
to reveal his will by, but such whose intellectuals
were entire and perfect; and that he imprinted
such a clear copy of his truth upon them, as that
it became their own sense, being digested fully into
, their understandings ; so as they were able to de
Hver and represent it to others as truly as any
can paint forth his own thoughts. If the matter
and substance of things be once lively in the mind,
verba non invita sequentur : and according as that
matter operates upon the mind and phantasy, so
will the phrase and language be in which it is ex
pressed. And therefore I think, to doubt whether
the prophets might not mistake in representing the
mind of God in their prophetical inspirations, ex
cept all their words had been also dictated to them,
is to question whether they could speak sense as
wise men, and tell their own thoughts and expe
riences truly or not. And indeed it seems most
agreeable to the nature of all these prophetical
visions and, dreams we have discoursed of, wherein
the nature of the enthusiasm consisted in a sym
bolical and hieroglyphical shaping forth of inteUi
gible things in their imaginations, and enlightening
the understanding of the prophets to discern the
scope and meaning of these visa or phantasmata ;
that those words and phrases in which they were

OF PROPHECY. 295
^djbjy_jexpressed to the hearers afterwards, or
penned down, shoul3~be the prophets' own : for"
the matter was not, as seems evident from what
has been said, represented always by words, but
by things. Though I know that sometime in these
visions they had a voice speaking to them ; yet it
is not Hkely that voice should so dilate, and com
ment so largely upon things, as it was fit the pro
phet should do when he repeated the same things
to vulgar ears.
It may also further be considered, that our 1
Saviour and his apostles generally quoted passages '
out of the Old Testament as they were translated
by the Seventy, and that where the Seventy have
not rendered them verbatim, but have much varied
the manner of phrasing things from the original ;
as hath been abundantly observed by phUologers :
which it is not likely they would have done, had '
the original words been the very dictate of the
Spirit ; for certainly that would seem not to need
any such paraphrastical variations, as being of
themselves full and clear enough ; besides herein
they might seem to weaken the authenticalness of
the divine oracles. And indeed hath not the
swerving from this notion made some of late con
ceit, though erroneously, the translation of the
Severity to be more authentical than the Hebrew,
which they would needs persuade us had been
corrupted by the Jews, our Saviour declining the
phraseology thereof?
Besides, we find the prophets speaking every one
of them in his own dialect ; and such a variety of
style and phraseology appears in their writings, as
may argue them to have spoken according to their

296

OF PROPHECY.

own proper genius : which is observed by the Jews
themselves (who are most zealously, as is weU
known, devoted to the very letter of the text) in
all the prophets except Moses, and that part of
Moses only which contains the decalogue. And
hence we have that rule, Gem. Sanhedr. ina y:io y*
ins 1U3D3 avw i»3jn' kSi d'k'sj wS nSiy « The same form
doth not ascend upon two prophets, neither do both
of them prophesy in the same form.' Which rule
Cocceius confesseth he knows not the meaning of :
but Abarbanel, who better understood the mind of
his own compatriots, in his comment upon Jer. xlix.
gives us a fuU account of it, upon occasion of some
phrases in that prophecy concerning Edom, parallel
to what we find in Obadiah. From this congru-
ency of the style in both, he thus takes occasion to
lay down our present notion as the sense of that
former theorem, mura s^3Ja nntco isis mita a'snm in kS
'131 'The prophets did not prophesy in the same
manner as Moses did : for he prophesied from God
immediately, from whom he received not only the
prophecy, but also the very words and phrases ;
and accordingly as he heard them, so he wrote them
in the book of the law, in the very same words
which he heard from God : but as for the rest of
the prophets, they beheld in their visions the things
themselves which God made known to them, and
both declared and expressed them in their own
phraseology.' Thus we see he ascribes the phrase and style
every where to the prophet himself, except only in
the law, which he supposeth to have been dictated
totidem verbis : which is probable enough, if he
means the law strictly so taken, viz. for the deca-

OF PROPHECY. 297
logue, as it is most likely he doth. And again a
little after, iw ''piosn yvha anitt wSn na^yai arayn un
: Dns D'S'n < The things themselves they saw in pro
phecy, but they themselves did explain and inter
pret them in that dialect which was most famUiar
to them.' And this, as he there teUs, was the rea
son why the same kind of phraseology occurred
not among the prophets, according to the sense of
the Talmudists' maxim we mentioned. The like
the Jewish schoHasts observe upon those false pro
phets who did all uno ore bid Ahab ascend up to
Ramoth-GUead and prosper, to nnK y:io yx unus
idemque loquendi modus nunquam reperitur in duobus
prophetis : and therefore they made it an argument
that these were false prophets, because they did
idem canticum canere, for they all said, " Go up and
prosper."* And thus the heathenish philosopher
Plutarch, in his irsgi tou ^n Xgdv s^srga vuv rnv Tiu-
%'av, thought likewise concerning his oracle, teU-
ing us, 'That all enthusiasm is a mixture of two
motions, the one is impressed upon the soul
which is God's organ, the other ariseth from it ;'
and therefore he Says, 'O pavrixbg iv^ouaiaapbg, uairsg
6 egurixbg, ygfirat rrji uiroxsiylsvn huvdpsi, xui xivsT ruv he%a-
(tkvuv sxaarov xaff o ir'spuxsv, ' All prophetical enthusi
asm, like as also that which is amatorious, doth
make use of the subject faculty, and moves every
recipient according to its disposition and nature.'
And thence he thus excuseth the rough and unpo
lished, language in which the oracles were some
times delivered, most fitly to our purpose describing
prophetical inspiration, Ou ydg sari ©sou n yngug, ou-
* 2 Kings xii. 12.
PP

298 OF PROPHECY;
hs 6 p^byyog, ouhs n "kifys, ouhe rb wkrgov, akkd rrjg yuvui-
xbg' sxsTvog he pbvog rag puvruaiug icugiarnai, xai pug iv r>j
•^uyjj ironi irgbg rb [Askkov. b ydg ivOouaiuapubg rotourbv
ian, ' For neither the voice, nor sound, nor phrase,
nor metre is from God, but from Pythia herself;
God only suppeditates the phantasms, and kindles
a light in the soul to signify future things : for all
enthusiasm is after this manner.' Hence was that
old saying of Heraclitus, 'O "Aval, ou fb puavrstovian
rb iv Ask'po7g, ours k'eysi, ours xguirret, akkd cnpaivei,
' That the king, whose oraCle is at Delphi, neither
plainly expresses, nor conceals, but only obscurely
intimates by signs.' But to conclude thisj^rsif par
ticular, I shall add by way of caution, We must
not think that we can vary Scripture expression so
securely with retaining the true meaning, except
we likewise had as real an understanding of the
sense itself as the prophets had, over whom God
also did so far superintend in their copying forth
his truth, as not to suffer them to swerve from his
meaning. And so we have done with that parti
cular. 2. In the next place, for the better understand
ing all prophetical writ, we must observe, That there
is sometimes a seeming inconsistence in things spo
ken of, if we shall come to examine them by 'the
strict logical rules of method : we must not there
fore, in the matter of any prophetical vision, look
for a constant methodical contexture of things car
ried on in a perpetual coherence. The prophetical -
spirit doth not tie itself to these rules of art, or
thus knit up its dictates systematicaUy, fitly framing
one piece or member into a combination with the
> rest, as it were with the joints and sinews of nie-

OF PROPHECY. 299
thod : for this indeed would rather argue a human i
and artificial contrivance than any inspiration,
which, as it must beget a transportation in the
mind, so it must spend itself in such abrupt kind of
revelations as may argue indeed the prophet to have
been inspired. And therefore Tully * judiciously
excepts against the authenticalness of those verses
of the Sibyls which he met with in his time, (and
which were the same perhaps with those we now
have) because of those acrostics and some other
things which argue an elaborate artifice, and an af
fected dUigence of the writer, and so indeed non
furentis erant, sed adhibentis diUgentiam, as he speaks.
Lumen propheticum est lumen abruptum, as was weU
noted anciently by the Jews. And therefore the
masters of Jewish tradition have laid down this
maxim, r-ninn -in'sai anpia y* ' Non est prius et pos-
terius in lege,' We must not seek for any methodi
cal concatenation of things in the law, or indeed in
any other part of prophetical writ ; it being a most
usual thing with them many times ir'sgug dgyfi auvdir-
rsiv to knit the beginning and end of time together.
Nescit tarda molimina Spiritus Sancti gratia, is true
also of the grace or gift of prophecy. We find no
curious transitions, nor true dependence many times
of one thing upon another ; but things of very dif
ferent natures, and that were cast into periods of
time secluded one from another by vast intervals,
aU couched together in the same vision ; as Jerome
hath observed in many places, and therefore tells
us, Non cura? fuit spiritui prophet ali historia? ordi-
nem sequi. And. thus he takes notice in Dan. xi. 2.
* Lib. II. De Diyinat

300 OF PROPHECY.
that whereas there were thirteen kings between Cy
rus and Alexander the Great, the prophet speaks
of but four, skipping over the rest, as if the other
nine had filled up no part of the interval. The
like he observes upon Jer. xxi. 1. and elsewhere ;
as likewise sudden and abrupt introductions of per
sons, mutations of persons, (exits and intrats upon
this prophetical stage being made, as it were, in an
invisible manner) and transitions from the voice of
one person to another. The prophetical spirit,
though it make no noise and tumult in its motions,
yet it is most quick, spanning as it were from the
centre to the circumference ; it moves most swift
ly, though most gently. And thus Philo's obser
vation is true, Ouhsig ivvoug puvreuei. There must be
some kind of Mavia in all prophecy, as Philo* tells
us, "Ore pug iirikd^st rb Sstov, huerat rb uvSguirtvov,
' When divine light ariseth upon the horizon of the
soul of man, his own human light sets :' it must at
least hide itself as a lesser light, as it were by an
occasus heliacus, under the beams of the greater,
and be wholly subject to the irradiations and influ
ences of it. Aid rouro r) huaig rou koytapou xui rb
iregi aurbv axbrog exaraatv xai ^eopbgnrov puviuv iyevvnae,
as he goes on, ' Therefore the setting of a man's
own discursive faculty and the ecHpsing thereof be
gets an ecstasis and a divine kind of mania.'
3. The last rule we shall observe is, That no
- piece J^J^^ht^is to ^e understood ofthe state
of the world to come, or the mundus animarum: for
mdeeHjt is altogetherMmpossible™ to describe that,
or to comprehend it in this lifel "And : therefore"
* In his " Quis rerum divinarum hseres sit."

OF PROPHECY. 301
aUjdiyine revelation in scripture must concern some
state in this world. And 16" we must understand
air those places that treat of " a new heaven and a
new earth," and such like. And so we must un
derstand the new Jerusalem mentioned in the New
Testament, in that prophetical book of the Apoca
lypse, Rev. xxi. And thus the Jews were wont
universally to understand them, according to that
maxim we now speak of ascribed to R. Jochanan,*
N3n aSij? u?3t? n'l^an nian sStt itajnj xS aSu a'«'3:n Ss
5 ntn njS ys ' All the prophets prophesied to the
days of the Messiah ; but as for the world to come,
eye hath not seen it.' So they constantly expound
that passage in Isa. lxiv. 4. " Since the beginning
of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by
the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, besides
thee, what he hath prepared for him that waiteth
for him." And according to this aphorism our
Saviour seems to speak, when he says, " All
prophets and the law prophesied untU John,"t eug
'ludwou, i. e. They prophesied to or for that dispen
sation which was to begin with John, who lived in
the time of the twilight, as it were, between the
law and the gospel. They prophesied of those
things which should be accomplished within the
period of gospel dispensation which was ushered in
by John.
As for the state of blessedness in heaven, it is"1
major mente humana, much more is it major phan-
tasid. But of this in part heretofore.
» Massec. Berac. cap. 5. t Matt- xi' 13'

302 AN ADVERTISEMENT.

AN ADVERTISEMENT.

JL HE reader may remember that our author, in
the beginning of his Treatise of the Immortality of
the Soul, propounded these three great principles
of religion to be discoursed of; 1. The Immortality
ofthe Soul; 2. The Existence and Nature of God ;
3. The Communication of God to mankind through
Christ. And having spoken largely to the two
former principles of natural theology, he thought
it fit (as a preparation to the third, which imports
the revelation of the gospel) to speak something
concerning prophecy, the way whereby revealed
truth is dispensed to us. Of this he intended to
treat but a little (they are his words in the begin
ning of the treatise of prophecy), and then pass on
to the third and last part, viz. those principles of
revealed truth which tend most of all to advance
and cherish true and real piety. But in his dis
coursing of prophecy, so many considerable inqui
ries offered themselves to his'thoughts, that by that
time he had finished this discourse (designed at
first only as a Preface) his office of being Dean and
Catechist in the college did expire. Thus far had
the author proceeded in that year of his office : and
it was not long after that bodily distempers and

AN ADVERTISEMENT. 303
weaknesses began more violently to seize upon
him, which the summer following put a period to
his Hfe here; a life so every way beneficial to
those who had the happiness to converse with him.
Sic multis ille bonis flebilis occidit. Thus he who
designed to speak of God's communication of him
self to mankind through Christ, was taken up by
God into a more inward and immediate participa
tion of himself in blessedness. Had he Hved, and
had health to have finished the remaining part of
his designed method, the reader may easily con
ceive what a valuable piece that discourse would
have been. Yet that he may not altogether want
the author's labours upon such an argument, I
thought good in the next place to adjoin a dis
course of the like importance and nature, delivered
heretofore by the author in some chapel exercises,
from which I shall not detain the reader by any
more of Preface.

A
DISCOURSE

TREATING OF

LEGAL RIGHTEOUSNESS; EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS,
OR THE
RIGHTEOUSNESS OF FAITH:
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE
LAW AND THE GOSPEL; THE OLD AND NEW COVENANT:
JUSTIFICATION AND DIVINE ACCEPTANCE ;
THE CONVEYANCE OF THE EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS
TO US BY FAITH.

Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and
Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven. Matt. v. 20.
Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof. 2 Tim. iii. 5.
For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better hope did. I j j
Heb. vii. 19.
"Otf'oi uto't ziiri tou Quros xai rns tiaxavias tvs xaivvis o*ia.$nxvi$ Iv reo imvp.an ry
uyioi, ' SioStfiuxroi t'lfiv uutvi ya.^ v\ xty5 itrtyfiuQu iv tu7s xufliuis auruv tous
vopoovs tou trviuftaros* oux oQiikauirlv ouv us tus ypatyus fiovov ras oia (azXuvos ys-
y^ufifiivas vXtigoipoguirS-ui, aXXa xui us tus srXuxus ttis xu/jSius « x^15 T0" ®zou
lyyga.Qei tous vofitous tou vrnvpuTOS xui tu Wou^mtu puerripiu.
B. Macarius in Homil. 15.

Qq

A
DISCOURSE OF
LEGAL RIGHTEOUSNESS;
AND OF THE
RIGHTEOUSNESS OF FAITH,
&c.

But Israel, -which followed after the law of righteousness, hath not attained
to the law of righteousness : Wherefore t Because they sought it not by faith,
but as it were by the works of the law. Rom. ix. 31, 32.

CHAP. I.
The introduction, showing what it is to have a right knowledge of
divine truth, and what it is that is either available or prejudicial
to the true Christian knowledge and life.
JL HE doctrine of Christian reHgion propounded
to us by our Saviour and his apostles, is set forth
with so much simplicity, and yet with so much re
pugnancy to that degenerate genius and spirit that
rules in the hearts and lives of men, that we may
truly say of it, it is both the easiest and the hardest 1
thing : it is a revelation wrapt up in a complication
of mysteries, Hke that book of the Apocalypse,
which both unfolds and hides those great arcana
that it treats of; or, as Plato sometimes chose so to

308 OF LEGAL AND
explain the secrets of his metaphysical or theologi
cal philosophy, aare 6 avayvoug fin yvm, that he that
read might not be able to understand, except he
were a son of wisdom, and had been trained up in
the knowledge of it. The principles of true reHgion
are all in themselves plain and easy, delivered in
the most famUiar way, so that he that runs may
read them ; they are aU so clear and perspicuous,
that they need no key of analytical demonstration
to unlock them : the Scripture being written doctis
pariter et indoclis, and yet it is " wisdom in a mys
tery which the princes of this world understand
not ;"* a sealed book which the greatest Sophies
may be most unacquainted with : it is like that
pillar of fire and of a cloud that parted between
the Israelites and the Egyptians, giving a clear and
comfortable light to all those that are under the
manuduction and guidance thereof, but being full
of darkness and obscurity to those that rebel
against it. Divine truth^ is not to be discerned so
much in a jnan's^br^in, jas. JnTiisT Tieart. Divine
wisdom is a tree of Hfe to them that find her, and
it is only Hfe that can feelingly converse witi> life.
ATI the thin speculations and subtilest discourses
of philosophy cannot so Well unfold or define -any
sensible object, nor teU any one so well what it is,
as his own naked sense wiU do. There is a divine
and spiritual sense which only is able to converse
ihlerhalfy wMTBeiife and soul of divine truth, as
mixing and uniting itself with it; whUe vulgar
minds behold only the body and outside of it.
Though in itself it be most intelligible, and such
* 1 Cor. ii. 7, 8.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 309
that man's mind may most easUy apprehend ; yet
there is a nsnitan ns'Sp (as the Hebrew writers call
that mn -tt') incrustamentum immunditiei upon all
corrupt minds, which hinders the lively taste and
relish of it. This is that thick and palpable dark
ness which cannot comprehend that divine light
that shines in the minds and understandings of aU
men, but makes them to deny that very truth
which they seem to entertain. " The world
through wisdom (as the apostle speaks) knew not
God."* Those great disputers of this world were
too full of nice and empty speculations to know
him who is only to be discerned by a pacate, hum
ble, and self-denying mind : their curiosity served
rather to dazzle their eyes than to enlighten them ;
while they rather proudly braved themselves in
their knowledge of the Deity, than humbly sub
jected their own souls to a compliance with it ;
making the Divinity nothing else but, as it were,
a flattering glass that might the better reflect and
set off to them the beauty of their own wit and
parts: and while they seemed to converse with
God himself, they rather amorously courted their
own image in him, and fell into love with their
own shape. Therefore the best acquaintance with
religion is Seoht'haxrog yvSaig, ' a knowledge taught
by God :' it is a light that descends from hea
ven, which is only able to guide and conduct the
souls of men to heaven, from whence it comes.
The Jewish doctors used to put it among the
fundamental articles of their religion, * That their
law was from heaven,' own ya rnwn : I am sure
* 1 Cor. i. 21.

310 OF LEGAL AND
we may much rather reckon it amongst the prin
ciples of our Christian religion in a higher way,
that it is an influx from God upon the minds of
good men. And this is the great design and plot
of the gospel, to open and unfold to us the true
way of recourse to God ; a contrivance for the
uniting the souls of men to him, and the deriving
a participation of God to men, to bring in " ever
lasting righteousness," and to establish the true
tabernacle of God in the spirits of men, which
was done in a typical and emblematical way under
the law. And herein consists the main pre-emi
nence which the gospel hath above the law, in
that it so clearly unfolds the way and method of
umting human jaature Jto ^Divinity^ which the
apostle seems mainly to aim at in these words,
" But Israel which foUowed after the law of righte
ousness, &c."

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 311

CHAP. II.
An inquiry into that Jewish notion of a legal righteousness, which
is opposed by St. Paul. That their notion of it was such as
this, viz. That the law externally dispensed to them, though it
were, as a dead letter, merely without them, and conjoined with
the power qf their own free-will, was sufficient to procure them
acceptance with God, and to acquire merit enough to purchase
eternal life, perfection and happiness. That this their notion
had these two grounds ; First, An opinion of their own self-
sufficiency, and that their free-wiU was so absolute and perfect, as
that they needed not that God should do any thing for them but
only furnish them with some law to exercise this innate power
about. That they asserted such freedom qf will as might be to
them a foundation qf merit.
-T OR the unfolding whereof, we shaU endeavour
to search out, Jirst, What the Jewish notion of a
legal righteousness was, which the apostle here
condemns. Secondly, What that evangelical righteousness, or
righteousness of faith, is, which he endeavours to
establish in the room of it.
For the first, That which the apostle here blames
the Jews for, seems to be indeed nothing else but
an epitome or compendium of aU that which he
otherwhere disputes against them for : which is
not merely and barely concerning the formal notion
of justification, as some may think, viz. whether
the formal notion of it respects only faith, or
works in the person justified, (though there may
be a respect to that also) it is not merely a subtile
school controversy which he seems to handle ; but
it is of a greater latitude ; it is indeed concerning

312 OF LEGAL AND
the whole way of life and happiness, and the pro
per scope of restoring mankind to perfection and
union with the Deity, which the Jews expected
by virtue of that system 'and pandect of laws
which were delivered upon mount Sinai, augmented
and enlarged by the Gemara of their own tradi
tions. That we may the better understand which, per
haps it may not be amiss a little to traverse the
writings of their most approved ancient authors,
that so finding out their constant received opinions
concerning their law and the works thereof, we
may the better and more fully understand what St.
Paul and the other apostles aim at in their disputes
against them.
The Jewish notion generally of the law is this ;
' That in that model of life contained in that body
of laws, distinguished ordinarUy into moral, judicial,
and ceremonial, was comprised the whole method
of raising man to his perfection ; and that they
having only this book of laws without them, to
converse with, needed nothing else to procure
eternal life, perfection and happiness : as if this had
been the only means God had for the saving of
men, and making them happy, to set before them in
an external way, a volume of laws, statutes, and
ordinances, and so to leave them to work out and
purchase to themselves eternal Hfe in the observ
ance of them.'
Now this general notion of theirs we shall unfold
in two particulars.
First, as a foundation of all the rest, they took
up this as a hypothesis, or common principle, * That
mankind had such an absolute and perfect free-

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 313
will, and such a sufficient power from within him
self to virtue and goodness, as that he only need
ed some law as the matter or object to exercise
this innate power about ; and therefore needed
not that God should do any thing more for him,
than merely to acquaint him with his divine will
and pleasure.
And for this we have Maimonides speaking very
fully and magisterially, that this was one of their
radices fidei, or articles of their faith, and one main
^ foundation upon which the law stood. His words
are these,* Tn1? iosjj men1? m-\ ax rairo ens bah nutn
'•01 r-oiis ' The power of free-will is given to every
man to determine himself, if he wiU, to that which
is good, and to be good ; or to determine himself
to that which is evil, and to be wicked, if he wiU.
Both are in his power, according to what is written
in the law, " Behold, man is become as one of us,
to know good and evil :"t that is to say, Behold
this sort of creature, man, is alone (and there is
not a second like to man) in this, viz. That man
from himself, by his own proper knowledge and
power, knows good and evU, and does what
pleaseth him in an uncontroUable way, so as
none can hinder him as to the doing of either
good or evU.'
And a little after he thus interprets those words
in the Lamentations, of the repenting church,
" Let us search and try our ways, and turn unto
the Lord,"$ 'iai ut> uirmcn S'Kin « Seeing that we
who are endued with the power of free-wiU, have
most wittingly and freely committed all our trans-
* Halacah Teshubah, or Treatise of Repentance, chap. 5. f **en. iii. 22.
j Lam. iii. 40.
Rr

314 OF LEGAL AND
gressions ; it is meet and becoming that we should
convert ourselves by repentance, and forsake all
our iniquities, forasmuch as this also is in our pow
er : this is the importance of those words, " Let us
search and try our ways, and turn unto the Lord."
And this is a great fundamental, the very pillar of
the law and precept, according to what is written,
" See, I have set before thee this day Hfe and death,
good and evU.'"*
Thus we see Maimonides, who was well versed
in the most ancient Jewish learning, and in high es
teem among aU the Jews, is pleased to reckon this
as a main principle and foundation upon which that
law stood ; as indeed it must needs be, if life and
perfection might be acquired by virtue of those le
gal precepts which had only an external administra
tion, being set before their external senses, and pro-
mulged to their ears as the statute-laws of any com
monwealth used to be. Which was the very no
tion that they themselves had of these laws. And
therefore in Breshith Rabba (a very ancient writing)
the Jewish doctors taking notice of that passage in
the Canticles, " Let him kiss me with the kisses of
his mouth,"t they thus gloss upon it ; 'At the time
of the giving of the law, the congregation of Israel
desired that Moses might speak to them, they be
ing not able to hear the words of God himself: and
while he spake, they heard, and hearing, fofgat ;
and thereupon moved this debate among themselves,
What is this Moses, a man of flesh and blood? arid
what is his law, that we so soon learn, and so soon
forget it ? O that God would kiss us with the kisses

* Deut. xxx. IS.

f Son^ i.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 315
of his mouth !' that is, in their sense, that God
would teach them in a more vital and internal way.
And then (as they go on) Moses maketh this an
swer, rvwpn 'E'j taV Tnj£> r-vrv *«?Sk nnj; .— ivnS So' tsW
'«i ' That this "could not be then : but it should so
come to pass in the time to come, in the days of
the Messiah, when the law should be written in
their hearts, as it is said, " 1 will write it in their
hearts.'"* By this we may see how necessary it was for the
Jews, that they might be consistent to their grand
principle of obtaining life and perfection by this
dead letter, and a thing merely without themselves,
(as not being radicated in the vital powers of their
own souls) to establish such a power of free-will as
might be able uncontrollably to entertain it, and so
readily by its own strength perform all the dictates
of it.
And that Maimonides was not the first of the
Jewish writers who expound that passage, " Behold,
man is become like one of us, to know good and
evil,"t of free-will, may appear from the several
Chaldee paraphrasts upon it, which seem very much
to intimate that sense. Which, by the way, (though
I cannot allow all that which the Jews deduce from
it) I think is not without something of truth, viz.
That that liberty which is founded in reason, and
which mankind only in this lower world hath above
other creatures, may be there also meant. But
whatever it is, I am sure the Jewish commentators
upon that place generally follow the rigid sense of
Maimonides. * Jer. xxxi. 33. t Gen. iii. 22.

316 OF LEGAL AND
To this purpose R. Bechai, a man of no small
learning both in the Talmudic and Cabalistical doc
trine of the Jews, tells us, that upon Adam's first
transgression, that grand liberty of indifferency
equally to good or evil began first to discover itself;
whereas before that he was ^sv iSa < all intellect and
whoUy spiritual,' (as that common Cabalistical no
tion was) being from within only determined to that
which was good. But I shall at large relate his
words, because of their pertinency and usefulness
in the matter now in hand, vityn Sj? n-oin r-m =nan
'iai utorw amp that is, ' Adam before his sin, acted
from a necessity of nature, and all his actions were
nothing else but the issues of pure and perfect un
derstanding. Even as the angels of God, being no
thing else but intelligences, put forth nothing else
but acts of intelligence ; just so was man before he
sinned, and did eat of the tree of knowledge of
good and evil : but after this transgression, he had
the power of election and free-will, whereby he was
able to wUl good or evil.' And a Httle after gloss
ing on those words, "And the eyes of them both
were opened"* he addeth, njnn ^inon-proi ym wtron
'131 'They derived the power of free-will from the tree
of knowledge of good and evU : and now they be
came endued With "this power of determining them
selves to good or evil ; and this property is divine,
and in some respect a good property.' So that, ac
cording to the mind of our author, the first original
and pedigree of free-wiU is to be derived, not so
much from the aera of' creation, as from that after-
epocha of man's transgression, or eating of the fbr-
* Gen. iii. 7.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 317
bidden fruit : so that the indifferency of man's will
to good or evil, and a power to determine himself
freely to either, did then first of all unfold itself;
whereas before he conversed Hke a pure intelligence
with its first cause, without any propension at all
to material things, being determined like a proper
natural agent solely to that which is good : and
these propensions arising upon the first transgres
sion to material things (which they supposed to be
in men's power either so to correct and castigate as
to prevent any sin in them, or else to pursue in a
way of vice) are, if not the form and essence, yet
at least the original and root of that tf"in -w< which
they speak so much of. But of this in another
place. AU this we have further confirmed out of Nach
manides, an author sufficiently versed in aU matters
concerning the Jewish religion. His words are
these,* "ai ntnan |»:n 'From the time of the creation,
man had a power of free-will within him to do good
or evil, according to his own choice, as also through
the whole time of the law ; that so he might be ca
pable of merit in freely choosing what is good, and
of punishment in electing what is evU.' Wherein
that he teUs us that this free-wiU hath continued
ever since the creation, we must not understand ri
gidly the very moment of man's creation, but that
epocha taken with some latitude, so that it may in
clude the time of man's first transgression : for he
after suggests thus much, That, before the first sin,
Adam's power to good was a mere natural power
without .any such indifferency to evil ; and there-
* Comment upon Deut. xxx. 13.

3J8 OF LEGAL AND
fore he makes that state of Adam the model and
platform of future perfection, which the most an
cient Jewish authors seem to expect in the time of
their Messiah, which he expresseth in this manner,
'iai mtMv sbi iinn* mV « He shall not covet nor desire
(after a sensitive manner,) but man shall return in
the times of the Messiah to that primitive state he
was in before the sin of the first man, who naturally
did whatsoever was good, neither was there any
thing and its contrary then in his choice.' Upon
which ground he afterwards concludes, That in
those times of the Messiah there shaU neither be
merit nor demerit, because there shall be no free
will, which is the alone mother and nurse of both
of them : but in the mean while, that good or evil
are to men (that I may phrase it in the language of
the Stoic) iksuhsga, axaJkura, airagspirbhtara' none
prejudicing or in the least degree hindering the ex
ercise of this liberty, neither from within nor from
without, ' none either in heaven or in earth' ya t<b
owinnn ja k^i o'jvVyn. And thus the same Nachma>
nides expounds that solemn attestation,* wherein
heaven and earth are called to witness, that that day
life and death were set before them ; as if God
himself had now established such a monarchical
power in man, which heaven and earth should be
in league withal and faithful to.
. Hereupon R. Saadia Gaon (so called by way of
eminency) doubts not to tell us, that the common
sense of aU the Jewish doctors was, That this liberty
to good or evU was such an absolute kind of autho
rity established in a man's soul, that it was in a sort
* peut. xxx. 1 9.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 319
independent upon God himself; this being, as he
saith (in the book called Sepher Emunah) the mean
ing of that old and vulgar maxim amongst the
Jews, sometimes mentioned in the Talmud, ^a v
D'n^n r-\*-va yin a»u?n n'3 Omnia sunt in manu Coeli
(i. e. Dei) excepto timore Dei.
I am not ignorant there is another axiom of the
Jews as common, which may seem partly to cross
this and what hitherto hath been spoken, viz. xa
ib vnnia NSnn^ r**3 ini« W'oo inta'1? the meaning of
which is this, ' That assistance is perpetually af
forded to all endeavours both of sanctity and im
piety.' But Maimonides hath somewhere told us
(and, as I remember, in his Sepher Hamedang) how
they mince the matter, and mean nothing else by
it but this, That when men endeavour after the per
formance of the law, God in a way of providence
furnisheth them with external matter and means,1
giving them peace and riches and other outward
accommodations, whereby they might have advan
tage and opportunity to perform all that good which
their own free-will determines them to : whereas
wicked men find the like help of external matter
and means for promoting and accomplishing their
wicked and ungodly designs.
Thus we see how the Jews, that they might lay
a foundation of merit, and build up the stately and
magnificent fabric of their happiness upon the sandy
foundation of a dead letter without them, endea
voured to strengthen it by as weak a rampart of their
own self-sufficiency and the power of their own free
will, able, as they vainly imagined, to perform all
righteousness, as being adequate and commensurate
to the whole law of God in its most extensive and

3^0 OF LEGAL AND
comprehensive sense and meaning ; rather looking
upon the fall of man as the rise of that giant-like
free-will whereby they were enabled to bear them
selves up against heaven itself, as being a great acces
sory to their happiness, rather than prejudicial to it,
through the access of that multitude of divine laws
which were given to them ; as we shall see after
wards. And so they reckoned upon a more trium
phant and illustrious kind of happiness victoriously
to be achieved by the merit of their own works,
than that beggarly kind of happiness (as they seem
to look upon it) which cometh like an alms from
divine bounty. Accordingly they affirm, ' That
happiness '-'man T" Sp by way of reward is far
greater and much more magnificent than that which
is nonn Tn Sy by way of mercy.'

CHAP. III.
The second ground of the Jewish notion qf a legal righteousness,
viz. That the law delivered to them on mount Sinai was a suffi
cient dispensation from God, and all that needed to be done by
him to bring them to perfection and happiness : and that the
scope qf their law was nothing but to afford them several ways
and means qf merit. The opinion qf the Jewish writers con
cerning merit and the reward due to the works qf the Ian.
Their distinguishing of men in order to merit and demerit into
three sorts, viz. perfectly righteous, perfectly vncked, and a mid
dle sort betwixt these. The mercenary and low spirit qf the
Jewish religion. An account qf what the Cabalisls held in
this point qf legal righteousness.
JL HE second ground of that Jewish notion of a
legal righteousness is this, ' That the law delivered

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 321
to them upon mount Sinai was a sufficient dispen
sation from God, and all that needed to be done by
him for the advancing of them to a state of perfec
tion and blessedness ; and that the proper scope
and end of their law was nothing but to afford
them several ways and means of merit.' Which is
expressly delivered in the Mishnah,* nur? na"pn run
'iai Ssnr ns. The meaning whereof is this, that
therefore the precepts of the law were so many in
number, that so they might single out where they
pleased, and in exercising themselves therein pro
cure eternal life ; as Obadias de Bartenora ex
pounds it, ' That whosoever shaU perform any one
of the six hundred and thirteen precepts of the
law (for so many they make in number) without
any worldly respects, for love of the precept, njn
isan thy} "n1? na mat behold, this man shall merit
thereby everlasting life.' For indeed they sup
posed a reward due to the performance of every
precept, which reward they supposed to be increas
ed according to the secret, estimation which God
himself hath of any precept, as we find suggested
in the Mishnah, in the book Pirke Avoth, in the
words of the famous R. Jehuda, rhp nisna -vnt 'in
'iai nninnas « Be careful to observe the lesser pre
cept as weU as the greater, because thou knowest
not the reward that shall be given to the observa
tion of the precepts.'
Here we must take notice that this was a great
debate among the Jews, which precepts they were
that had the greatest reward due to the perform
ance of them ; in which controversy Maimonides

* Lib. Maccoth, sect. ult.
Ss

322 OF LEGAL AND
in his comment upon this place thus resolves us,
That the measure of the reward that was annexed
to the negative precepts might be coUected from
the measure of the punishments that were conse
quent upon the breach of them. But this knot
could not be so well solved in reference to the affirm
ative precepts, because the punishments annexed
to the breach of them were more rarely defined in
the law : accordingly he expresseth himself to this
sense, ' As for the affirmative precepts fiiW nivo it
is not expressed what reward is due to every one of
them ; and aU for this end, that we may not know
which precept is most necessary to be observed, and
which precept is of less necessity and importance.'
And a little after he tells us, that for this reason
their wise men said, nwnn ya lies nam poiyn Qui ope-
ram dat praecepto, liber est aprxcepto ; which he ex
pounds to this sense, That whosever shall exercise
himself about any one precept, ought without hesita
tion or dispute to continue in the performance of it,
as being in the mean while freed from minding any
other. For, if God had declared which precepts him
self had most valued and settled the greatest revenue
of happiness upon, then other precepts would have
been less minded ; and any one that should have
busied himself in a precept of a lower nature,
would presently have left that, when opportunity
should have been offered of performing a higher.
And hence we have also another Talmudical canon
for the performing of precepts, of the same nature
with the former quoted by our foresaid author,
r-iixnn Sj? pajw -ya < It is not lawful to skip over
precepts,' that is, as he - expounds it, ' When a man
is about to observe one precept, he may not skip

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 323
over and relinquish that, that so he might apply
himself to the observation of another.' And thus,
as the performance of any precept hath a certain
reward annexed to it ; so the measure of the re
ward they suppose to be increased according to
the number of those precepts which they observe, as
it is defined by R. Tarphon in the foresaid Mishnah^
cap. 2;, "iai r-ia-in naip i1? wnu r-n-in min ma1? dk
' If thou hast been much in the study of the law,
thou shalt be rewarded much : for faithful is thy
Lord and Master, who wUl render to thee a re
ward proportionable to thy work.' And a little
before we have the same thing in the words of
another of their masters, a"n nana min nana
Qui multiplicat legem, multiplicat vitam. And lest
they should not yet be liberal enough of God's
cost, they are also pleased to distribute rewards
to* any Israelite that shall abstain from the breach
of a precept ; for so we find it in the Mishnah
Lib. Kiddushin, * Whosoever keeps himself from
the breach of a precept, nixa nu/iya -av i1? ara shall
receive the reward as if he had kept the pre-
eept.' But this which hath been, said concerning the
performance of any one precept, must be under
stood with this caution, that the performance of
su,ch a precept be a continued thing,, so as that it
may compound and coUect the performance of
many good works into itself j otherwise the single
performance of any one precept is only available,
according to the sense of the Talmudical masters,
to cast the scale* when a man's good works and
evil works equaUy balance one another, as Mai
monides telleth us in his comment upon the fore-

324 OF LEGAL AND
named Mishnah, * where the words of the Jew
ish doctors are these, "01 r-\m r-iisn rwnyn ba « He
that observes any one precept, it shall be well
with him, and his days shall be prolonged, and he
shall possess the earth : but he that observes not
any one precept, it shaU not be well with him, nor
shall his days be prolonged, nor shall he inherit
the earth.' Which words are thus expounded by
Maimonides, ' He that observes any one precept,
&c. that is, so as that by the addition of this work
to his other good works, his good works overweigh
his evil works, and his merits preponderate his de
merits.' i
For the better understanding whereof we must
know, that the Jewish doctors are wont to distin
guish of three sorts of men, which are thus ranked
by them, aniaj a<p-nf 'men perfectly righteous/
amaj a-jitn < men perfectly wicked,' and a'jira « a
middle sort of men betwixt them.' Those they
are wont to caU perfectly righteous, who had no
transgression or demerits that might be counted
fit to be put into the balance against their merits ;
and those they called simply a'pns righteous, whose
merits outweighed their demerits : whereas on the
other side the perfectly wicked in their sense were
such as had no merits at all; and those simply cyan
wicked, whose demerits made the weightiest scale :
and the middle sort were such as their good deeds
and evil deeds equally balanced one another. Of
this first sort of men, viz. the perfectly righteous,
they supposed there might be many ; and such the
Pharisees seem to have been in their own esteem,
* Lib. Kiddushin, cap. i. sect. 10.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 325
in our Saviour's time. And according to this no
tion our Saviour may seem to have shaped his an
swer to that young man in the gospel, who asked
him, " What shaU I do to inherit eternal life ?" To
which our Saviour answers, " Keep the command
ments :" which our Saviour propounds to him, in
so great a latitude, as thereby to take him off from
his self-conceit, and that he might be convinced
upon reflection on himself, that he had fallen short
of eternal Hfe, in failing of a due performance of
the divine law. But he, insisting upon his own
merit in this respect, inquires of our Saviour whe
ther there be yet any thing wanting to make him a
maj pns ' one perfectly righteous.' To this our
Saviour replies, " If thou wUt be perfect, go and
sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou
shalt have treasure in heaven ; and come and fol
low me."* The meaning of which reply may, as
I conceive, be this, to convince him of his imper
fect obedience to, and compliance with, the law of
God, from his over-eager love of this world. But
secondly, for the medii, or those that were in the
middle rank of men, the Jewish doctors had divers
rules, as, 1. In case a man's evil works and good
were equal, the addition of one either way, might
determine them to eternal life or misery. 2. That
in case a man's evU works should preponderate
and weigh down his good, yet he may cast the
scale by repentance, if he wUl ; or in the other
world by chastisements and punishments he may
make expiation for them. These and the like ways
they have found out, lest any of their fraternity
* Matt. xix. 21.

326 OF LEGAL AND
should miscarry. To aU which we must take in
this caution which they are pleased to deHver to us,
viz. That men's works have their different weight ;
some good works being so weighty that they may
weigh in the balance against many evil works, and
vice versa.
All which we shaU find largely set down by R.
Albo, Lib. de Fundamentis Fidei, and partly by
R. Saadia: but especially by Maimonides,* who
also teUs us of other expedients provided by their
law for the securing of merit and happiness, which
I shall not here mention. And indeed in fine they
have found out so many artifices to entaU a legal
righteousness and eternal happiness upon all the
Israehtes, that (if it be possible) none might be left
out of heaven : as may partly appear by that ques
tion captiously proposed to our Saviour, " Master,,
are there few that shall be saved?! whereby they
expected to ensare him, they themselves holding a
general salvation of aU the Jews by virtue of the
law, however their wickedness might abound.
Which we find expressly set down by Maimonides
in the forenamed place, a^ana on'nuiiw owin ^3
'¦di « AU wicked ones whose evU deeds exceed their
good deeds, shaU be judged according to the mea
sure of their evil deeds so exceeding; and after
wards they shaU have a portion in the world to
come ; «an abizh fin orb vr bvmtn bav for that aU Israel
ites have a portion in the world to come, is Sj? «\*e
istsn© and this notwithstanding their sins.* Now
that maxim of theirs, ' AU Israelites have a portion
in the world to come,' is taken out of the Mishnah,t
* Treatise of Repentance, chap. 3. f Luke xiii. 23.
| Lib. Sanhedr. cap. 11.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 327
where it is put down as the most authentic opinion
of the Jewish doctors; only some few that are
there recited who are excepted from this happi
ness ; otherwise their greatest malefactors are not
excepted from it : for so Obadias de Bartenora un-
foldeth their meaning, 'iai -i'aa nn'a larruw iSk iVsk
* even such as are judged by the great Sanhedrim
worthy of death for their wickedness, these have a
portion «^an ab>ij?a in the world to come.' I know
that the notion here, of ' the world to come,' is dif
ferently represented by Nachmanides and Maimo
nides, and their followers. But whether Maimoni
des' sect or the other prevail in this point, it is not
much material as to our present business, seeing
both sides conclude that this seeulum futurum, or
world to come, points out such a state of happi
ness, as should not revolve or sHde back again into
misery. And by the way, we may observe what a lean
and spiritless religion this of the Jews was, and
how it was nothing else but a soulless and life
less form of external performances, which did little
or nothing at aU reach the inward man, being
nothing but a mere bodily kind of drudgery and
servility: and therefore our Saviour, when he
models out reHgion to them, points them out to
something fuUer of inward life and spirit, and such
a one as might make them " perfect, as their Father
in heaven is perfect."* Such dull heavy-spirited
principles as this Talmudical doctrine we have
quoted affordeth us, very probably began to pos
sess the chair in Antigonus' time, who therefore
* Matt. v. 48.

328 OF LEGAL AND
put in this caution against part of it, that God was
not to be served so much upon the account of
merit and for hope of wages, as out of love ; though
his disciples Sadoc andBaithus, the founders ofthe
sect of the Sadducees, straining that sober principle
too far, might more strengthen that mercenary be
Hef amongst the other doctors which they had be
fore entertained.
But before I leave this argument, it may not be
amiss to examine also what the cabalistical Jews
thought concerning this matter in hand ; which in
sum is this, ' That the law delivered upon mount
Sinai was a device God had to knit and unite the
Jews and the Shechinah, or divine presence, toge
ther.' Therefore they are pleased to style it in the
book Zohar, which is one of the most ancient mo
numents we have of the Jewish learning, "m 'tin
' the treasures of life.' And as if the living God
could be united to the souls of men by such a dead
letter as this was, as it is styled by the Apostle,*
they are pleased to make this external administra
tion the great vinculum Dei et hominis. And to
this purpose R. Simeon Ben Jochai, the compiler
of the fore-quoted book, which is a mystical com
ment upon the Pentateuch, discourseth upon those
words " He is thy life, and the length of thy days,"+
upon which he grounds this observation, ns1? Njnraiy
mm ayNi1™ sia^na * The Shechinah, or divine pre
sence, is no where established but by the mediation
of the law :' and a little after he thus magnifies the
study of the law, '«i NJnmx Sinm yxa Ha « Whoso
ever doth exercise himself in the law, doth merit
* 2 Cor. iii. f Deut. xxx. 20.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 329
the possession of the upper inheritance which is in
the holy kingdom above ; and doth also merit the
possession of an inheritance here below in this
world.' Where by the way we may take notice
that the ancient Jews looked upon the inheritances
of the land of Canaan as being typical and signifi
cative of a higher inheritance in the kingdom of
heaven ; both which they supposed to be the due
rewards of men's works : and therefore they talk
so much in the same place of guardian angels which
are continually passing to and fro between heaven
and earth, as the heralds and messengers of men's
good works to God in heaven. And further upon
those words, " Ye shall keep my statutes and judg
ments ; which if a man do, he shall live in them,"*
he tells us, ' That the portion of Israel is merito
rious, because that the Holy blessed One delighteth
in them above all the idolatrous nations ; and out
of his favour and goodness to them, gave them
owp-i yam*: the laws of truth, and planted amongst
them the tree of life ; and the Shechinah was with
them. Now what doth all this signify ? thus much,
that since the IsraeHtes are signed with the holy
seal in their flesh, they are thereby acknowledged
for the sons of God : as on the contrary, they that
are not sealed with this mark in their flesh, are not
the sons of God, but are the children of unclean
ness : wherefore it is not lawful to contract famili
arity with them, or to teach them the words of the
law.' Which afterwards is urged further by ano
ther of their masters, ' Whosoever instructeth any
uncircumcised person *<nmtn t*rvj?t mt 's« though
. * Levit. xviii. 5.
T t

330 OF LEGAL AND
but in the least precepts of the law, doth the same
as if he should destroy the world, and deny the
name of the Holy blessed One.'
AU which plainly amounts to thus much, as we
had before out of the Talmudists, that the law was
given unto the Israelites for this purpose, to enrich
them with good works, and to augment their merits,
and so to establish the foundations of life and bless
edness amongst them ; and to make it a medium of
the union betwixt God and men, as R, Eliezer in
the same book speaketh of the near union between
these three, ' the Holy blessed One, the law, and
Israel.' There is one passage more in our forenamed au*
thor R. Simeon Ben Jochai, at the end of Parashah
Jethro, which, though it be more mystical than the
rest, yet may be well worth our observing, as more
fuUy hinting the perfection of the law, and setting
that forth as an absolute and complete medium of
rendering a man perfect ; upon which R. Jos. Albo
in his third book De Fundamentis hath spent two
or three chapters. Thus therefore, as if the law
was the great magazine and storehouse of perfeci
tion, our foresaid author there telleth us, ' That
when the Israelites stood upon mount Sinai, they
saw God NU"j?a Nrj; eye to eye, or face to face, and
understood all secrets of the law, and all the arcana
superna et inferna,' &c. and then he adds, ' That
the same day in which the Israehtes stood upon
mount Sinai, ]in'ja Kami nays all uncleanness passed
away from them, and all their bodies did shine in
brightness like to the angels of heaven when they
put on their bright shining robes to fit themselves
for the embassy upon which they are sent by God

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 331
their Lord.' And a little after, thus ; ' And when
their uncleanness passed away from them, the bo
dies ofthe Israelites became shining and clear with
out any defilement ; and their bodies did shine
Nrp-n tnmn as the brightness of the firmament.'
And then thus concludeth all, ' When the Israelites
received the law upon mount Sinai, NjaSy aiffans the
world was then perfumed with a most aromatic
smell, and heaven and earth were established, and
the Holy blessed One was known above and below,
and he ascended in his glory above all things.'
By all which mystical and allegorical expressions
our author seems to aim at this main scope, viz.
To set forth the law as that which of itself was suf
ficient, without any other dispensation from God,
for the perfecting of those to whom it was dis
pensed ; and to make them comprehensors of all
righteousness here, and glory hereafter : which
they are wont to set forth in that transcendent state
of perfection which the Israelites were in at the re
ceiving of the law ; whence it hath been an ancient
maxim amongst them, In statione montis Sinai Is
raelite erant sicut angeli ministerii.
And thus we have endeavoured to make good
that which we first propounded, namely, to show
that the grand opinion of the Jews Concerning the
way to life and happiness was this, viz. ' That the
law of God externaUy dispensed, and only furnish
ed out to them in tables of stone and a parchment
roll, conjoined with the power of their own free
will, was sufficient both to procure them acceptance
with God, and to acquire merit enough to carry
them with spread saUs into the harbour of eternal
rest and blessedness.'

332 OF LEGAL AND
So that by this time we may see that those dis
putes which St. Paul and other apostles maintain
against the Jews, touching the law and faith, were
not merely about that one question, Whether justi
fication formally and precisely respects faith alone ;
but were of a much greater latitude.

CHAP. IV.
The second inquiry, concerning the evangelical righteousness or the
righteousness of faith, and the true difference between the law
and the gospel, the old and the new covenant, as it is laid down
by the apostle Paul. A more general answer to this inquiry,
together with a general observation qf the apostle's mam end in
opposing faith to the works qf the law, viz. To beat down the
Jewish proud conceit qf merit. A more particular and distinct
answer to the inquiry, viz. That the law or old covenant is con
sidered only as an external administration, a dead thing in itself,
a dispensation consisting in an outward and written law qf pre
cepts : but the gospel or new covenant is an internal thing, a vi
tal form and principle qf righteousness in the souls qf men, an
inward manifestation qf divine life, and a living impression upon
the minds and spirits qf men. This proved from several testi
monies qf Scripture.
.HAVING done with the first inquiry, we now
come to the second, which was this, What the evan
gelical righteousness or the righteousness qf faith is,
which the apostle sets up agamst that ofthe law, and
in what notion the law is considered by the apostle :
which in sum was this, viz. That the law was the

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 333
ministry of death, and in itself an external and life
less thing, neither could it procure or beget that
divine life and spiritual form of godliness in the
souls of men, which God expects from all the heirs
of glory, nor that glory which is only consequent
upon a true divine life. Whereas on the other side
the gospel is set forth as a mighty efflux and ema
nation of life and spirit freely issuing forth from an
omnipotent source of grace and love, as that true
godlike vital influence whereby the Divinity de
rives itself into the souls of men, enlivening and-
transforming them into its own likeness, and strong
ly imprinting upon them a copy of its own beauty
and ' goodness : like the spermatical virtue of the
heavens, which spreads itself freely upon this lower
world, and subtily insinuating itself into this be
numbed, feeble, earthly matter, begets Hfe and mo
tion in it. Briefly, It is that whereby God comes
to_dwe.ll in us. and_we inhim.
But that' we may the more distinctly unfold the
difference between that righteousness which is of
the law, and that which is of faith, and so the bet
ter show how the apostle undermines that fabric of
happiness which the Jews had buUt up for them
selves; we shaU observe first in general, That the
main thing which the apostle endeavours to beat
down was, that proud and arrogant conceit which
they had of merit, and to advance against it the
notion of the divine grace and bounty as the only
fountain of all righteousness and happiness. For
indeed that which all those Jewish notions, of which
we have before taken notice, aimed principally at,
was the advancing of the weakened powers of na
ture into such a height of perfection as might ren-

334 OF LEGAL AND
der them capable of meriting at God's hands : and
that perfection of which they speak so much, (as is
clear from what hath been said) was nothing else
but a mere sublimation of their own natural powers
and principles, performed by the strength of their
own fancies. And therefore these contractors with
heaven were so pleased to look upon eternal life as
a fair purchase which they might make for them
selves at their own charge ; as if the spring and rise
of all were in themselves : their eyes were so much
dazzled with those foolish fires of merit and reward
kindled in their own fancies, that they c6uld not
see that light of divine grace and bounty which
shone about them.
And this fastus and swelling pride of theirs (if I
mistake not) is that which St. Paul principally en
deavours to chastise, in advancing faith so much as
he doth in opposition to the works of the law. For
which purpose he spends the first and second chap
ters of his epistle to the Romans in drawing up a
charge of such a nature both against GentUes and
Jews, but principaUy against the Jews, Who wefe
the grand justitiaries, that might make them be
think themselves of imploring mercy, andof laying
aside all plea of laW arid justice ; and so he shuts
up aU with a severe check to such presumptuous
arrogance, irov ouv f) xauyyatg ; " Where then is
boasting ?"* This seems then to be the main erid
which St. Paul every where aims at in opposing
faith to the works of the law, namely, to estabhsh
the foundation of righteousness and happiness upon
the free mercy and grace of God : the glorifying
* Rom. iii. 27.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 335
and magnifying of which, in the real manifestations
of it, he holds forth upon all occasions, as the de
sign and plot of the gospel administration ; seeing
it is impossible for men, by any works which they
can perform, to satisfy God's justice for those sins
which they have committed against him, or truly
to comply with his divine wUl, without his divine
assistance. So that the method of reconciling men
to God, and reducing straying souls back again to
him, was to be attributed wholly to another origi
nal than that which the Jews imagined. But,
Secondly, That righteousness of faith Which the
apostle sets up against the law, and compares with
it, is indeed in its own nature a vital and spiritual
administration, wherein God conversetn with man ;
whereas the law was merely an external or dead
thing in itself, not able to beget any true divine
life in the souls of men. All that legal righteous
ness of which the Jews boasted so much, was but
from the earth, earthly ; consisting merely in ex
ternal performances, and so faUing extremely short
of that internal and godlike frame of spirit which
is necessary for a true conjunction and union ofthe
souls of men with God, and making them capable
of true blessedness.
But that we may the more distinctly handle this
argument, we shall endeavour to unfold the true
difference between the law and the gospel, as it
seems evidently to be laid down every where by
St. Paul in his epistles : and the difference between
them is clearly this, viz. That the law was merely
an external thing, consisting in such precepts which
had only an outward administration; butthegos-'
pel is an internal thing, a vital form and principle

336 OF LEGAL AND
seating itself in the minds and spirits of men. And
this is the most proper and formal difference be
tween the law and gospel, that the one is consider
ed only as an external administration, and the other
as an internal. And therefore the apostle calls the
law hiaxoviav yga^arog and 'havarou, " the ministra
tion ofthe letter and of death,"* it being in itself
but a dead letter ; as all that which is without a
man's soul must needs be. But on the other side
he calls the gospel, because of the intrinsical and
vital administration thereof in living impressions
upon the souls of men, hiaxoviav irveuparog, " the
ministration of the spirit," and hiaxoviav rrjg htxaio-
auvng, " the ministration of righteousness." By
which he cannot mean the history of the gospel, or
those credenda propounded to us to beHeve ; for
this would make the gospel itself as much an ex
ternal thing as the law was, and according to the
external administration, as much a killing or dead
letter as the law was : and so we see that the
preaching of " Christ crucified was to the Jews a
stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness."t
ff But indeed he means a vital efflux from God upon
X the souls of men, whereby they are " made partak-
I ers of life and strength" from him : and therefore
i (ver. 7.) he thus exegeticaUy expounds his own
meaning of that short description of the law, name
ly, that it was htaxovia rou ^avdrou iv yga^aatv^ evre-
ruircofievri iv kidotg' which, I think, may be fitly thus
translated, ' it was a dead or Hfeless administration,'
(for so sometimes by a Hebraism the genitive case
in regimine is put for the adjective) or else ' an
* 2 Cor. iii. 6,7. f 1 Cor. i. 23.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 337
administration of death exhibited in letters, and en
graven in tables of stone :' and therefore he teUs us
(ver. 6.) what the effect of it was in those words,
To ygappa airoxrsivsi, " The letter killeth," as in
deed all external precepts which have not a proper
vital radication in the souls of men, wherebv thev
are able to secure them from the transgression of
them, must needs do. Now to this dead or kiUing
letter he opposes (ver. 8.) a quickening spirit, or
the hiaxovia rod Tivsuparog, " the ministration of the
Spirit," which afterwards (ver. 9.) he expounds by
hiaxovia rrjg hixatoauvrig, " the ministration of righte
ousness," that is, the evangelical administration.
So that the gospel or evangelical administration
must be an internal impression, a vivacious^ and
energetical spirit arid"principle of righteousness in
the soulj_of men; whereby they are inwardly ena
bled to express a real conformity thereto. Upon
this ground the apostle further pursues the effects
of both these from the fourteenth verse to the end*
By aU which the apostle means to set forth to us
how vast a difference there is between the external
manifestations of God in a law of commandments,
and those internal appearances of God whereby he
discovers the mighty power of his goodness to the
souls of men.
Though the history and outward communication
of the gospel to us in scriptis, is to be always ac
knowledged as a special mercy and advantage, and
certainly no less privUege to Christians than it was
to the Jews to be the depositaries of the oracles of
God :* yet it is plain that the apostle, where he
* Rom. iii. 2.
U u

338 OF LEGAL AND
compares the law and the gospel, and in other
places, doth by the gospel mean something which
is more than a piece of book-learning, or a histo
rical narration of the free love of God in the seve
ral contrivances of it for the redemption of man
kind. For if this were all that is meant properly
by the gospel, I see no reason why it should not be
counted as weak and impotent a thing, as dead a
letter as the law was, as we intimated before ; and
so there would be no such vast difference between
them as the apostle asserts there is ; the one being
properly an external declaration of God's wUl, the
other an internal manifestation of divine Hfe upon
men's souls : and therefore he so distinguisheth be
tween this double dispensation of God, that this
evangelical dispensation is a vital and quickening
thing, able to beget a soul and form of divine good
ness upon the souls of men ; which because the
law could not do, it was laid aside, as being insuffi
cient to restore man to the favour of God, or to
make him partaker of his righteousness. " If there
had been a law which could have given life, ovrug av
ix vbpou r\v r) htxatoauvrj, verily righteousness should
have been by the law ;"* where by hixaioauvt} he
seems to mean the same thing which he meant by
it when in his Epistle to the Corinthians he caHs
the economy of the gospel hiaxoviav htxaioauvqg, " the
ministration of righteousness," or as r-i«? is taken
among the Jewish writers for acceptance with God,
and that internal form of righteousness that quali
fies the soul for eternal life : and so he takes it in a
far more large and ample sense than that external
* Gal. iii. 21.
3

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 339
righteousness of justification is : and indeed it seems
to express the just state of those who are renewed
by the Spirit of God, and made partakers of that
divine life which is emphatically called the seed of
God. For this hixaioauvrt righteousness, which he
here speaks of, is the proper result of an enhvening
and quickening law, which is this new law of the
gospel in opposition to that old law which was ad
ministered only in scriptis : and therefore this new
law is caUed in the Epistle to the Hebrews xgsirruv
hia^tnxri " the better covenant,"* whereas the old
was faulty. In which place this is put down as the
formal difference between the legal and evangelical
administration, or the old and new covenant, that
the old covenant was only externally promulged
and wrapt up as it were in ink and parchment, or,
at best, engraven upon tables of stone ; whereas
this new covenant is set forth in living characters
imprinted upon the vital powers of men's souls, as
we have ver. 10, 11. " This is the covenant that I
wiU make, &c. I will put my laws into their minds,
and write them in their hearts :" and therefore the
old covenant is (ver. 7-) said not to be apepirrog an
unblamable or faultless thing, because it was not
able to keep off transgressions, or hinder the viola
tion of itself, no more than inscription upon some
pUlar or monument is able to inspire life into those
that read it and converse with it : the old law or
covenant being in this respect no other than all
other civil constitutions are, which receive their ef
ficacy merely from the wUling compliance of men's
minds with them, so that they must be enlivened by
* Heb. viii. 6, &c.

340 OF LEGAL AND
the subject that receives them, being dead things
in themselves. But the evangelical or new law is
such a thing as is an efflux of life and power from
God himself the original thereof, and produceth life
wheresoever it comes. And to this double dispen
sation, viz. of law and gospel, doth St. Paul clearly
refer, " You are the epistle of Christ, ministered by
us, written, not with ink, but with the Spirit ofthe
living God, not in tables of stone :"* which last
words are a plain gloss upon that mundane kind of
administering the law in a mere external way, to
which he opposeth the gospel. And this argument
he further pursues in the seventh and eighth chap
ters of his Epistle to the Romans, in which last
chapter he styles the gospel vbpov rou irvsbparog r%g
Zprjg " the law of the spirit of life," ver. 2. which
was able to destroy the power of sin, and to intro
duce such a spiritual and heavenly frame of soul
into men, as whereby they might be enabled to ex
press a cheerful compliance with the law of God,
and demonstrate a true heavenly conversation and
godlike life in this world.
We read in Jamhlichus and others, of the many
preparatory experiments used by Pythagoras to try
his scholars, whether they were fit to receive the
more sublime and sacred pieces of his philosophy ;
and that he was wont to communicate these only to
souls in a due degree purified and prepared for such
doctrine, psra -^u%rjg puriastg xai xa^tag^oug' and what
did all this signify but only this, that he might by
all these methods work and mould the minds of his
hearers into such a fit temper, as that he might the
* 2 Cor. iii. 3.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 341
better stamp the seal of his more divine doctrine
upon them, and that his discourses to them irsgi ht-
xaim ts xa} xakm xui aya^Sv, ' of things just and
lovely and good,' might be written rS> ovrt iv ipwxip
• truly and really in the soul,' that I may use Plato's
words in his Phasdrus, where he commends the im
pressions of truth which are made upon men's souls
above aU outward writings, which he therefore com
pares to dead pictures. By this we see what the
wisest and best phUosophers thought of this internal
writing ; but it peculiarly belongs to God to write
the laws of goodness in the tables of men's hearts.
All the outward teachings of men are but dead
things in themselves. But God's imprinting his
mind and will upon men's hearts is properly that
which is caUed the teaching of God, and then they
become living laws written in the living tables of
men's hearts fitted to receive and retain divine im
pressions. I shall only add that speech of Crollius
the chymist, not impertinent in this place, Non tam
discendo quam patiendo divina perficitur mens hu
mana. And that we may come a little nearer to these
words upon which all this present discourse is built,
this seems to be the scope of his argument in this
place, where this vbpog hixuioauvr\g, " law of righteous
ness," may fairly be paralleled with that which be
fore he called vbu,ov irvsbpurog " the law of the spirit,"
and which he therefore calls hixatoauvrjv iriarscag " the
righteousness of faith," because it is received from
God in a way of believing. For I cannot easuy
think that he should mean nothing else in this
place but merely the righteousness of justification,
as some would persuade us, but rather that his

342 OF LEGAL AND
sense is much more comprehensive, so as to include
the state of gospel-dispensation, which includes not
only pardon of sins, but an inward spirit " of love,
power, and of a sound mind," * as he expresseth it.
And this he thus opposeth to the law. " But the
righteousness of faith speaketh on this wise, Say
not in thy heart, Who shaU ascend into heaven, &c.
or, Who shall descend into the deep ? But what
saith it ? The word is nigh thee, even in thy
mouth, and in thy heart, that is, the word of faith
which we preach." t In which words CunaBus in
his De Repub. Hebr. would have us to understand
some cabala or tradition amongst the Jews for this
meaning of that place from which these words are
borrowed, X which as they there stand, seem not to
carry that evangelical sense which here St. Paul
expounds them into ; though yet Cunaeus hath not
given us any reason for this opinion of his. But
indeed the Jewish writers, generally, who were
acquainted with the principles of the cabala com
menting upon that place, do wholly refer it to the
times of the Messiah, making it parallel with that
place of Jeremiah- which defines the new covenant
to be " a writing of the law of God in men's
hearts." § And thus that life and salvation that
results from the righteousness of faith is all, as
faith itself is, derived from God, gratuitously dis
pensing himself to the minds of men : whereas if life
could have been by the law, its original and prin
cipal must have been resolved into men themselves,
who must have acted that dead matter without
them, and have produced that virtue and energy in
* 2 Tim. i. 7. f Rom. a. 6, &c.
J Deut. xxx. 12. § Jer. xxxi. 33.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 343
it, by their exercising themselves therein, which
of itself it had not ; as the observance of any law
enables that law itself to dispense that reward which
is due to the observance of it : and therefore the
righteousness of the law was so defined that " he
that did those things should live in them." And
thus the New Testament every where seems to
present to us this twofold dispensation or economy,
the one consisting in an external and written law
of precepts, the other in inward life and power.
Which St. Austin hath well pursued in his book
De Litera et Spiritu, from which Aquinas, who
endeavours to tread in his footsteps, seems to have
taken first of all an occasion of moving that ques
tion, Utrum lex nova sit lex scripta, vel lex indita ;
and thus resolves it, that the new law or gospel is
not properly lex scripta, as the old was, but lex in
dita: and that the old law is foris scripta, the
other intus scripta, written in the tables of the
heart. Now from aU this we may easily apprehend how
much the righteousness of the gospel transcends
that of the law, in that it hath indeed a true com
mand over the inward man which it acts and in
forms ; whereas the law by all its menaces and
punishments, could only compel men to an exter
nal observance of it in the outward man ; as the
schoolmen have well observed, Lex vetus ligat ma-
num, lex nova ligat animum.
And herein St. Paul every where magnifies this
dispensation of the free mercy and grace of God,
as being the only sovereign remedy against all the
inward radicated maladies of sin and corruption, as
that panacea or balsamum vita' which is the uni-

344 OF LEGAL AND
versal restorative of decayed and impotent nature.
So he tells us, " Sin shall not have dominion, be
cause we are not under the law, but under grace." *
And this is that which made him so much extol
his acquaintance with Christ in the dispensation of
grace, arid to despise all things as loss ; where,
among his other Jewish privileges, having reckoned
up his blamelessness in all points touching the law,
he undervalues them all, and counts all but loss hid
rb uiregiyjiv rrjg yvuaewg, " for the excellency of the
knowledge of Christ Jesus." t In which place the
apostle doth not mean to disparage a real inward
righteousness, and the strict observance of the
law ; but his meaning is to show how poor and
worthless a thing all outward observances of the
law are in comparison of a true internal conformity
to Christ in the renovation of the mind and soul
according to his image and likeness ; as is manifest
from ver. 9, 10, &c. in which he thus delivers his
own meaning of that knowledge of Christ which
he so much extolled, very emphatically, " That I
may be found in him, not having mine own right
eousness which is of the law, but that which is
through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which
is of God by faith." Where by the way, we may
further take notice what this hixuioauvri iriarsug and
htxuioavvn ©sou, " the righteousness of faith" and
" the righteousness of God," (which we have al-
- ready spoke much of) is, according to his own
true meaning, as he expounds himself) viz. a Christ?
Hkeiiature^in a man's soul, or Christ appearing in
I the minds of men by the mighty power of his di-
" Rom vi. 14. f Phil. iii. 8.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 345
vine Spirit, and thereby deriving a true participa
tion of himself to them : so we have it ver. 10.
" That I may know the power of his resurrection,
and the feUowship of his sufferings, being made
conformable unto his death." And thus Christ
and Moses are opposed, as Christ is the dispen
ser of grace and truth, of God's free and gratui
tous bounty, of Hfe and substance : whereas Moses
was but the minister of the law, of rites and sha
dows. But it may perhaps be questioned whether the
same internal dispensation of God was |not as well
under the law, as since our Saviour's coming, and
so consequently that the Jews were equaUy par
takers thereof; and so it could be no new thing to
them. To all which I might reply, that this dispensa
tion of grace was then a more mystical thing, and
not so manifested to the world as it hath been since
our Saviour's coming. Secondly, This dispensation
of free grace was not that which properly belonged
to the nation of the Jews, but only a type and sha
dow of it.
For the fuUer understanding of which, and all
that hath been spoken, we must know, that before
our Saviour's coming, the great mysteries of reli
gion being wrapt up in hieroglyphics and symboli
cal rites, (the unfolding of aH which was reserved
for him who is the great Interpreter of heaven and
Master of truth) God was pleased to draw forth a
scheme or copy of aU that divine economy and
method of his commerce with mankind, and to
make a draught of the whole artifice thereof in
external matter : and therefore he singled out a

346 OF LEGAL AND
company and society of men of the same common
extraction, marked out from all other sorts of men
by a character of genealogical sanctity (for so cir
cumcision was,) collected and united together by a
common band of brotherhood ; and this he set up
as an emblem of a diyine and holy seed or society
of men which are all by way of spiritual generation
descended from himself. And hence it is that the
Jews (the whole Jewish nation universally con
sidered) who were but a mere representative of
this spiritual fraternity and congregation, are called
fhe holy seed or the holy people. Then afterwards
amongst these he erects a government and polity,
and rules over them in the way and manner of a
political prince, as hath been long since well ob
served by Josephus, who therefore properly caUs
the Jewish government Seoxguriuv, • a theocracy,'
or * the government of God himself,'
And thus in a scheme or figure he shadows forth
that spiritual kingdom and government which he
would establish amongst that divine society of men,
in reference to which we have so much mention
made of the kingdom of heaven in the gospel,
which is not generally and solely meant of the state
of glory, much less of any outward church rites,
but mainly of that idea and exemplar of which the
Jewish theocracy was an imitation, Lastly, As a
political prince, God draws forth a body of laws,
as the political constitutions and rules of this go
vernment which he had set up, choosing mount
Sinai for the theatre whereon he would promulge
those laws by which all his subjects should be go
verned. And so I doubt not but that preface by

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 347
which the law is ushered in,* which speaks of God's
mercy in delivering them from the Egyptian thral
dom, may very well be allegorized and mystically
expounded. And all this was to signify and set
forth that law which was to go forth from mount
Sion, the promulgation whereof was to be in a vital
and spiritual way among the subjects of this spiri
tual kingdom. To all whieh we may add those
temporal inheritances which he distributed to the
Jewish famUies, in imitation of that eternal blessed
ness and those immortal inheritances which he
shares out amongst his spiritual sons and subjects
in heaven. And this I the rather add, because here
tiie Jews are much perplexed about untying this
knot, namely, what the reason should be that their
law speaks so sparingly of any eternal reward, but
runs out generally in promises of mundane and
earthly blessings' in the land of Canaan. But by
this we may see the true reason of that wliich the
apostle speaks concerning them, " Uritil this day
rb aurb xukuppu the same vail in the reading of the
the Old Testament (/jsvsi pj uvuxakuirrbpevov remain
eth1 untaken away.''t That vail which was on the
face of Moses, was an: emblem of all this great mys- -
tery: and this' vail was upon the face of the Jews
in their reading- the Old1 Testament'; they dwelling'
so much in a1 carnal converse With these sacramen
tal symbols wliich were offered to them in the read'
ing of the law, that they could not see through
them into the thing signified thereby, and so em
braced ' shadbws instead of substance, and made ac
count to build up happiness and heaven upon that
earthly law to which properly the land of Canaan'
* Exod. xx. 2. t 2 Cor- ™- I4-

348 OF LEGAL AND
was annexed : whereas indeed this law should have
been their " schoolmaster to have led them to
Christ,"* whose law it prefigured ; which, that it
might do the more effectuaUy, God had annexed
to the breach of any one part of it such severe
curses, that they might from thence perceive how
much need they had of some further dispensation.
And therefore this state of theirs is set forth by a
state of bondage or irveupu houkelag. For aU exter
nal precepts carry perpetually an aspect of austeri
ty and rigour to those minds that are not informed
by the internal sweetness of them. And this it is
only which makes the gospel, or the new law, to be
a free, noble, and generous thing, because it is
seated in the souls of men : and therefore Aquinas,
out of Austin, hath well observed another differ
ence between the law and gospel, Brevis differentia
inter legem et evangelium est timor et amor. This I
the rather observe, because the true meaning of
that spirit of bondage which the apostle speaks of
is frequently mistaken. We might further, (if need
were) for a confirmation of this which we have
spoken concerning the typicalness of the whole
Jewish economy, appeal to the third and fourth
chapters of the Epistle to the Galatians, which can
not well be understood without this notion, where
we have the Jewish church, as a type of the true
evangelical church, brought in as a child in its
minority in servitude, under tutors and governors,
shut up under the law till the time of that empha-
tical revelation of the great mystery of God should
come, tiU the day should break, and all the shadows
of the night fly away. " Gal. iii. 24

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 349
That I may return from this digression to the
argument we before pursued, this briefly may be
added, that under the old covenant, and in the
time of the law, there were amongst the Jews some
that were evangelized, that were re, non nomine
Christiani ; as under the gospel there are many that f
do judaize, are of as legal and servile spirits as the '
Jews, " chUdren of the bond-woman," resting in
mere external observances of religion, in an out
ward seeming purity, in a form of godliness, as did
the Scribes and Pharisees of old.
From what hath hitherto been discoursed, I hope
the difference between both covenants clearly ap
pears, and that the gospel was not brought in only
to hold forth a new platform and model of religion ;
it was not brought in only to refine some notions
of truth, that might formerly seem discoloured and
disfigured by a multitude of legal rites and ceremo
nies; it was not to cast our opinions concerning
the way of life and happiness only into a new
mould and shape in a pedagogical kind of way : it
is not so much a system and body of saving divin-
ity, but the spirit "and vital influx of it spreading
itself oveTaTItne"powers of men's souls, and quick
ening them into a divine life : it is not so properly ™
ai3ocTJme that is wrapt up in ink and paper, as it
is vitalis scientia, a Hying impression made upon the
soul anidspitit. We may in a true sense be as le
gal asliverthe Jews were, if we converse with the
gospel as a thing only without us ; and be as far
short of the righteousness of God as they were, if
we make the righteousness which is of Christ by
faith to serve us only as an outward covering, and
endeavour not after an internal transformation of

350 OF LEGAL AND
our minds and souls into it. The gospel does not
so much consist in verbis as in virtute .- neither doth
evangelical dispensation therefore please God so
much more than the legal did, because, as a finer
contrivance of his infinite understanding, it more
clearly discovers the way of salvation to the minds
of men ; but chiefly because it is a more powerful
efflux of his divine goodness upon them, as being
the true seed of a happy immortality continually
thriving and growing on to perfection. I shall add
further, the gospel does not therefore hold forth
j such a transcendent privilege and advantage above
; what the law did, only because it acquaints us that
; Christ our true high priest is ascended up into the
holy of holies, and there, instead of the blood of
bulls and goats, hath sprinkled the ark and mercy-
seat above with his own blood : but also because it.
conveys that blood of sprinkling into our defiled)
consciences, to purge them from dead works* Far
be it from me to disparage in the least the merit of
Christ's bloods, his becoming obedient unto deaths
whereby we are justified. But I doubt sometimes
some of our dogmata and notions about justification)
may puff us. up> in far higher and goodlier conceits
of ourselves than God hath of us ; and that we pro
fanely make the unspotted righteousness of Christ
to serve only as a covering wherein, to wrap up our
foul deformities and filthy vices; and when we
have> done, think ourselves in as good) credit and;
repute witb God as we are with ourselves, and that
we are become heaven's dariingsas much as we are
our own, I doubt not but the- merit and1 obedience'
of our Saviour gain us favour with God; and' po
tently move down the benign influences of heaven

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 351
upon us : but yet I think we may sometimes be j
too lavish and wanton in our imaginations, in j
fondly conceiting a greater change in the esteem !
which God hath of us than becomes us, and tooj
little reckon upon the real and vital emanations'
of his favour upon us. <
Therefore, for the further clearing of what hath
been already said, and laying a ground upon which
the next part of our discourse (viz. concerning the
conveyance of this godlike righteousness to us by
faith) is to proceed, we shall here speak something
more to the business of justification and divine
acceptance, which we shall dispatch in two parti
culars.

«X^ ^

CHAP. V.

Two propositions for the better understanding of the doctrine of
justification and divine acceptance. 1. Prop. That the divine
judgment and estimation qf every thing is according to the truth
ofthe thing; and God's acceptance or disacceptance qf things is
suitable to his judgment. On what account St. James does
attribute a kind qf justification to good works. 2. Prop. God's
justifying qf sinners in pardoning their sins carries in it a
necessary reference to the sanctifying qf their natures. This
abundantly proved from the nature ofthe thing.
yJUR first proposition is this, The divine judg
ment and estimation of every thing is according to
the truth of the thing ; and God's acceptance or dis- I
acceptance qf things is suitable and proportionable to
his judgment. Thus St. Peter plainly tells us, " God "

352 OF LEGAL AND
is no respecter of persons ; but every one that work
eth righteousness is accepted of him."* And God
himself posed Cain, who had entertained those un
worthy and ungrounded suspicions of his partiality,
with that question, " If thou doest weU, shalt thou
not be accepted ?"t Wheresoever God finds any
stamps and impressions of goodness, he likes and
approves them, knowing them well to be what they
indeed are, nothing else but his own image and
| superscription. Wherever he sees his own image
' shining in the souls of men, and a conformity of
l Hfe to that eternal idea of goodness which is him-
1 self, he loves it and takes a complacency in it, as
{that which is from himself, and is a true imitation
(of himself. And as his own unbounded being and
goodness is the primary and original object of his
immense and almighty love : so also every thing
that partakes of him, partakes proportionably of
his love ; all imitations of him and participations of
his love and goodness are perpetually adequate and
commensurate the one to the other. By so much
the more acceptable any one is to God, by how
much the more he comes to resemble God. It
was a common notion in the old Pythagorean and
Platonic theology, fbv A/a psrua-fflyiiuria'&svra sig rbv
sgura, &c. as Proclus phraseth it, that the Divinity
transformed into love, and enamoured with its own
unlimited perfections and spotless beauty, delighted
to copy forth and shadow out itself as it were in
created beings, which are perpetually embraced in
the warm bosom of the same love, from which
they can never swerve nor apostatize, till they also
* Acts x. 34, 35. f Gen. iv. 7.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 353
prove apostate to the estate of their creation.
And certainly it is true in our Christian divinity,
that that divine light and goodness which flows
forth from God, the original of all, upon the souls
of men, never goes solitary and destitute of love,
complacency, and acceptation, which is always
lodged together with it in the divine essence. And
as the divine complacency thus dearly and tenderly
entertains all those which bear a similitude of true
goodness upon them ; so it always abandons from
its embraces all evil, which never doth nor can
mix itself with it: the Holy Spirit can never
suffer any unhallowed or defiled thing to enter into
it, or to unite itself with it. Therefore, in a sober /
sense, I hope I may truly say, there is no perfect
reconcUiation wrought between God and the souls
of men, while any defiled and impure thing dwells
within the soul, which cannot truly close with
God, nor God with that. The divine love, ac- j
cording to those degrees by which it works upon
the souls of men in transforming them into its i
own likeness, by the same it renders them more I
acceptable to itself, mingleth itself with, and !
uniteth itself to, them : as the spirit of any thing
mixeth itself more or less with any matter it acts
upon, according as it works itself into it, and so
makes a way and passage open for itself.
Upon this account, I suppose it may be, that St.
James attributes a kind of justification to good
works, which unquestionably are things that God
approves and accepts, and all those in whom he
finds them, as seeing there a true conformity to
his own goodness and holiness. Whereas,, on the
other side, he disparageth that barren, sluggish,
Yy

354 OF LEGAL AND
and drowsy belief, that a lazy lethargy in religion
began in his times so much to cherish, in reference
to acceptation with God. I suppose I may fairly
thus gloss at his whole discourse upon this argu
ment: God respects not a bold, confident, and
audacious faith, that is big with nothing but its own
presumptions. It is not because our brains swim
with a strong conceit of God's eternal love to us,
or because we grow big and swell into a mighty
bulk with airy fancies and presumptions of our ac
ceptance with God, that makes us the more ac
ceptable to him : it is not all our strong dreams of
being in favour with heaven that fiUs our hungry
souls the more with it: it is not a pertinacious
imagination of our names being enrolled in the
book of life, or of the debt-books of heaven being
crossed, or of Christ being ours, while we findjiim
not living within us, or of the washing away of
our sins in his blood, whUe the foul and filthy
stains thereof are deeply sunk in our own souls ;
it is not, I say, a pertinacious imagination of any
1 of these that can make us the better : and a mere
conceit or opinion, as it makes us never the better
in reality within ourselves, so it cannot render us
the more acceptable to God, who judges of all things
as they are. No^it must be a true compliance with
the divine will, which must render us such as the
Divinity may take pleasure in. "In Christ Jesus nei
ther CircTrmcision nor uncircumcision avaUeth any
thing/' nor any fancy built upon any other external
privilege, " but the keeping of the commandments
of God."* No, but " if any man does the wiU of
' 1 Cor. vii. 19,
3

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 355
God, him will both the Father and the Son love ;
they wiU come in to him and make their abode
with him."* This is the scope and mark at which a
true heaven-born faith aims ; and when it hath at
tained this end, then is it indeed perfect and com
plete in its last accomplishment. And by how
much the more ardency and intention faith levels
at this mark of inward goodness and divine ac
tivity, by so much the more perfect and sincere
it is. This is that which God justifies, it being
just and correspondent to his own good pleasure :
and in whomsoever he finds this, both it and they
are accepted of him. And so I come to the second
particular. 2. God's justifying qf sinners in pardoning and re
mitting their sins carries in it a necessary reference to
the sanctifying qf their natures ; without which jus
tification would rather be a glorious name than a
real privelege to the souls of men. While men con
tinue in then- wickedness, they do but vainly dream
of a device to restrain the hands of an almighty
vengeance from seizing on them : no, their own
sins, like so many armed giants, would first or last
set upon them, and rend them with inward torment.
There needs no angry cherub with a flaming sword
drawn out every! way to keep their unhaUowed
hands from the tree of life : no, their own prodigious
lusts, like so many arrows in their sides, would
chase them, their own hellish natures would sink
them low enough into eternal death, and chain
them up fast enough in fetters of darkness among
the filthy fiends of hell. Sjn will always be miser-
» John xiv. 23.

356 OF LEGAL AND
able ; and the sinner at last, when the empty blad
ders of all those hopes and expectations of an airy
mundane happiness, that did here bear him up in
this life, shall be cut, wUl find it like a talent of lead
weighing him down into the bottomless gulf of
misery. If aU were clear towards heaven, we
(should find sin raising up storms in our souls. We
cannot carry fire in our own bosoms, and yet not
be burnt. Though we could suppose the greatest
serenity without us, if we could suppose ourselves
here so much to be at truce with heaven, and all di
vine displeasure laid asleep ; yet would our own sins,
if they continue unmortified, first or last, make an
JEtna or Vesuvius within us. Nay those sunbeams
of eternal truth, that by us are detained in unrigh
teousness, would at last in those hellish vaults of
vice and darkness that are within us, kindle into an
unquenchable fire. It would be of small benefit to
us, that Christ hath triumphed over the principali
ties and powers of darkness without us, while hell
and death, strorigly immured in a fort of our own
sins and corruptions, should tyrannise within us :
that his blood should speak peace in heaven, if in
the mean whUe our own lusts were perpetually war-
/ ring and fighting in and against our own souls : that
' he hath taken off our guilt and cancelled that hand
writing that was against us, which bound us over to
: eternal condemnation ; if for all this we continue
\ fast sealed up in the hellish dungeon of our own
| filthy lusts. Indeed we could not expect any relief
from heaven out of that misery under which we
lie, were not God's displeasure against us first paci-
I fied, and our sins remitted : but should the divine
1 clemency stoop no lower to us than to a mere par-

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 357
don of our sins and an abstract justification, we
should never rise out of that misery under which
we lie. This is the signal and transcendent benefit |
of our free justification through the blood of Christ, |
that God's offence justly conceived against us fori
our sins (which would have been an eternal bar and ;
restraint to the efflux of his grace upon us) being;
removed, the divine grace and bounty may freely
flow forth upon us. The fountain of the divine
grace and love is now unlocked and opened, which J
our sins had shut up ; and now the streams of holi- 1
ness and true goodness from thence freely flow forth1'
into all gasping souls that thirst after them. The
warm sun of the divine love, whenever it breaks ].
through and scatters the thick cloud of our iniqui- /
ties that had formerly separated between God and '
us, it immediately breaks forth upon us with " heal
ing in its wings ;" it exerciseth the mighty force of
its own light and heat upon our dark and benumb
ed souls, begetting in them a lively sense of God, I
and kindling into sparks of divine goodness within.:
us. This love, when once it hath chased away the
thick mist of our sins, it will be " as strong as death >
upon us, as potent as the grave : many waters wUl t
not quench it, nor the floods drown it."* If we
shut not the windows of our souls against it, it wUl
at last enlighten all those regions of darkness that \
are within us, and lead our souls to the light of life,
blessedness, and immortality. God pardons men's :
sins out_ofjflJ^eraa| ,_design of destroying them ; j
andTwhenever the sentence of death is taken off1
froinJa^sinnerT it is at the same time denounced
* Song viii. 6, 7.

358 OF LEGAL AND
against his sins. God does not bid us be warmed
ancTbe filled, and deny us those necessaries which
our starving and hungry souls call for. Christ hav
ing made peace through the blood of his cross, the
heavens shall be no more as iron above us : but we
shall receive freely the vital dew of them, the for
mer and the latter rain in their season, thosg^ influ-^
ences from above, after which souls, truly sensible
ofjtheir_ own misery and imperfection, incessantly
gasp ; that righteousness of God which drops from
above, from the unsealed spring of free goodness
which makes glad the city of God. This is that
free love and grace, in which the souls of good men
so much triumph ; this is that justification which
begets in them lively hopes of a happy immortaHty,
in the present anticipations thereof which spring
forth from it in this life. And all this is that whieh
we have sometimes called " the righteousness of
Christ," sometimes " the righteousness of God
and here, " the righteousness which is of faith
In heaven it is a not-imputing of sin ; in the souls
of men it is a reconciliation of rebelHous natures
, to truth and goodness. In heaven it is the lifting
I upVineiight of God's countenance upon us, which
i begets a gladsome entertainment in the souls of
| men, holy and dear reflections and reciprocations of
\ love : divine love to us, as it were by a natural
i emanation, begetting a reflex love in us towards
God, which, like that egag and avr'sgcog spoken of by
the ancients, live and thrive together.

> »

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 359

/ 1/ l/ chap. vi. ^ y ^
How the gospel-righteousness, is conveyed to us by faith, made to
appear from these two considerations. 1. The gospel lays a
strong foundation qf a cheerful dependance tipon the grace and
love qf God, and affiance in it. This confirmed by several gos
pel expressions containing plainly in them the most strong mo
tives and encouragements to all ingenuous addresses to God, to
all cheerful dependance on him, and corifidenl expectation qf all
assistance from him. 2. A true evangelical faith is no lazy or
languid thing, but an ardent breathing and thirsting after divine
grace and righteousness : it looks beyond a mere pardon qf sin,
and mainly pursues after an inward participation qf the divine
nature. The mighty power qfa living faith in the love and good
ness of God, discoursed qf throughout the whole chapter.
W E come now to the last part of our discourse,
viz. To show the way by which this godlike and
gospel-righteousness is conveyed to us : and that is by
faith. This is that powerful attractive which by ;
a strong and divine sympathy draws down the
virtue of heaven into the souls of men, which
strongly and forcibly moves the souls of good men
into a conjunction with that divine goodness by j
which it lives and grows : this is that divine im- j
press that invincibly draws and sucks them in by I
degrees into the Divinity, and so unites them more <
and more to the centre of life and love : it is some
times in the hearts of men which, feeling by an oc
cult and inward sensation the mighty insinuations of
the divine goodness,, immediately complies with it,
and, with the greatest ardency that may be, is per- ;
petually rising up into conjunction with it ; and

360 OF LEGAL AND
j being first begotten , and enHvened by the warm
S beams of that goodness, it always breathes and gasps
after it for its constant growth and nourishment.
It is then fullest of life and vivacity, when it par-
jtakes most freely of it ; and perpetually languish-
ieth when it is in any measure deprived of that
I sweet and pure nourishment it derives from it.
But that we may the more clearly unfold this
business, how gospel-righteousness comes to be
communicated through faith, we shall lay it forth
in two particulars.
Fjrst, The gospel lays a strong foundation of a
cheerful dependance upon the grace and love qf God,
and affiance in it. We have the greatest security
and assurance that may be given us of God's readi
ness to relieve such forlorn and desolate creatures
as we are : that there are no such dreadful fates in
heaven as are continually thirsting after the blood
of sinners, insatiably greedy after their prey, never
satisfied tUl they have devoured the souls of men.
Lest we should by such dreadful apprehensions
be driven from God, we are told of the " blood
of sprinkling that speaks better things"* for us ;
of a mighty favourite soliciting our cause with
perpetual intercessions in the court of heaven ; of
"JJ^w^nd..Hyingway" to the throne of grace, and
to the holy of holies which our Saviour hath " con
secrated through his flesh :"t we are told of a great
and mighty Saviour " able to save to the utmost"
aU that come to God by him : we hear of the most
compassionate and tender promises that may be
from the truth itself, that " whosoever comes to
* Heb. xii. 24. +¦ Ibid. x. 20.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 36l
him he will in no wise cast out ;"*' that " They
that believe on him, out of them should flow
streams of living water :"t we hear of the most
gracious invitations that heaven can make to all
"weary and heavy laden"t sinners to come to Christ,
that they may find rest : the great secrets of hea
ven and the arcana of divine counsels are revealed,
whereby we are acquainted that " Glory to God in
the highest, peace on earth, good-will towards
men,"|| are sweetly joined together in heaven's
harmony, and happUy combined together in the
composure of its ditties: that the glory of the
Deity and salvation of men are not aUayed by
their union one with another, but both exalted to
gether in the most transcendent way, that divine
love and bounty are the supreme rulers in heaven
and earth, xai (p^bvog 's\oj i'arurai rou %bgou, there is no
such thing as sour despight and envy lodged in the
bosom of that ever blessed Being above, whose
name is LOVE, and aU whose dispensations to the
sons of men are but the dispreadings and distended
radiations of his love, as freely flowing forth from
it through the whole orb and sphere of its creation,
as the bright Hght from the sun in the firmament,
of whose benign influences we are then only de
prived when we hide and withdraw ourselves from
them. We are taught that the mild and gentle
breathings of the divine Spirit are moving up and
down in the world to produce life, and to revive
and quicken the souls of men into a feeling sense
of a blessed immortality. This is that mighty
Spirit that wiU, if we comply with it, " teach us
* John vi. 37. f Ibid- vii- 38- t Mm- xi- 28, H Luke U" H'
Zz

362 OF LEGAL AND
all things,"* even the hidden things of God ; mor
tify all the lusts of rebellious flesh, and " seal us
up to the day of redemption."! We are taught that
with all holy boldness we may " in all places lift up
holy hands to God, without Wrath or doubting,":):
without any sour thoughts of God, or fretful
jealousies, or harsh surmises. We can never dis
trust enough in ourselves, nor ever trust too
much in God. This is the great plerophory, and
that full confidence which the gospel every where
seems to promote : and should I run through all
the arguments and solicitations that are there laid
down, to provoke us to an entertainment hereof,
I should then run quite through it from one end
to another: it containing almost nothing else in
the whole complex and body of it, but strong and
forcible motives to all ingenuous addresses to God,
and the most effectual encouragement that may
be to all cheerful dependence on him, and con
fident expectation of all assistance from him to
carry on our poor endeavours to the achievement
of blessedness, and that in the most plain and
simple way that may be, sine fraude et fuco,
without any double mind or mental reservation;
heaven is not acquainted so feelingly with our
wicked arts and devices. But it is very strange
that where God writes life so plainly in fair capi
tal letters, we are so often apt to read death;
that when he tells us over and over, that hell
and destruction arise from ourselves, that they
are the workmanship of our own hands, we will
needs understand their pedigree to be from hea-
* John xiv. 26. f EPh< '"• 15- t 1 lim- »'• 8-
3

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 363
ven, and that they were conceived in the womb
of life and blessedness. No, but the gospel tells
us we are not come to ". mounts of burning,"
nor unto " blackness and darkness and tempest,"
&c* Certainly a lively faith in this love of God,
and a sober converse with his goodness by a cor
dial entertainment and thorough persuasion of it,
would warm and chafe our benumbed minds, and
thaw our hearts frozen with self-love ; it would
make us melt and dissolve out of all self-consisten
cy, and by a free and noble sympathy with the di
vine love to yield up ourselves to it, and dilate and
spread ourselves more fully in it. This would ban
ish away all atheism and ireful slavish superstition;
it would cast down every high thought and proud
imagination that swells within us and exalts itself
against this sovereign Deity ; it would free us from
aU those poor, sorry, pinching, and particular loves
that here inthral the souls of men to vanity and
baseness; it would lead us into the true liberty of
the sons of God, fiUing our hearts once enlarged
with the sense of it with a more generous and uni
versal love, as unlimited and unbounded as true
goodness itself is. Thus Moses-like conversing
with God in the mount, and there beholding his
glory shining thus out upon us in the face of
Christ, we should be deriving a copy of that eter
nal beauty upon our own souls, and our thirsty and
hungry spirits would be perpetually sucking in a
true participation and image of his glory. A true
divine love would wing our souls, and make them
take their flight swiftly towards heaven and immor-^
* Heb. xii. 18,

364 OF LEGAL AND
tality. Could we once be thoroughly possessed and
mastered with a fuU confidence of the jHyine love,
anaTGod's readiness to assist such feeble, languish
ing" creatures"as we are, in our essays after heaven
and blessedness, we should then, finding ourselves
borne up by an eternal and almighty strength, dare
to adventure courageously and confidently upon
the highest designs of happiness, to assail the king
dom of heaven with a holy gallantry and violence,
to pursue a course of well-doing without weariness ;
knowing that our labour shall not be in vain in the
, Lord, and that we shall receive our reward, if we
* faint not: we should work out our salvation in the
^most industrious manner, trusting in God as one
} ready to instU strength and power into all the vital
faculties of our souls : we should " press towards
the mark, for the prize of the high caUing of God
j in Christ Jesus, that we may apprehend that for
\ which also we are apprehended of Christ Jesus."*
If we suffer not ourselves to be robbed of this con
fidence and hope in God as ready to accomplish
the desires of those that seek after him, we may
then walk on strongly in the way to heaven and
not be weary ; we may run and not faint. And
the more the souls of men grow in this blissful per
suasion, the more they shaU mount up like eagles
into a clear heaven, finding themselves rising high
er and higher above all those filthy mists, those
clouds and tempests of a slavish fear, despair, fret-
fulness against God, pale jealousies, wrathful and
embittered thoughts of him, or any stragglings or
contests to get from within the verge of his power
* Phil. iii. 14.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 365
and omnisciency, which would mantle up their
souls in black and horrid night.
I mean not all this while by this holy boldness,
and confidence, and presence of mind in a believer's
converse with the Deity, that high pitch of assurance
that wafts the souls of good men over the Stygian
lake of death, and brings them to the borders of
Hfe ; that here puts them into an actual possession
of bliss, and re-estates and re-establishes them in
paradise : no, that more general acquaintance which
we may have with God's philanthropy and bounty,
ready to relieve with the bowels of his tender com
passions all those starving souls that call upon him,
for surely he wiU never do less for fainting and
drooping souls than he doth for the young ravens
that cry unto him ; that converse which we are
provoked by the gospel to maintain with God's un-
confined love, if we understand it aright, will
awaken us out of our drowsy lethargy, and make
us " ask of him the way to Sion with our faces
thitherward."* This will be digging up fresh foun
tains for us whUe we go through the vaUey of Ba
ca, whereby refreshing our weary souls we shall
" go on from strength to strength until we see the
face of our" loving and ever to be loved, " God in
Sk>n."t And so I come to the next particular,
wherein we shall further unfold how this godlike
righteousness, of which we have spoken, is convey
ed to us by faith : and that is this,
Secondly. A true gospel-faith is no lazy or languid,
thing, but a strong ardent breathing for, and thirst- 1
ing after, divine grace and righteousness : jt^doth notj
• Jer. I. S. t Psa1- '"""fr- 7-

366 OF LEGAL AND
only pursue an ambitious project of raising the soul
immaturely to the condition of a darling favourite
with heaven, while it is unripe for it, by procuring
a mere empty pardon of sin ; it desires not orAyto
sland iipbn clear terms with Heaven by procuring
the crossing of aU the debt-books of our sms"there;
but it rather pursues after an internal participation of
-^r-r|t„lM^Mf"l\i«frr,-^i''i^*<1f'^M'r^Wfr'' ~t 'tv i  i min inni i , | Mnii i
lemvine nature. We often hear of a saving faith ;
and that, where it is, is not content ti> wait jfor sal;
vation tiU the world to come ; it is not patient of
being arTexpectant iri'a pfobationership for it untU
this earthly body resigns up all its worldly interest,
that so the soul might then come into its room : no,
but it is here perpetually gasping after it, and ef
fecting it in a way of serious mortification and self-
denial : it enlarges and dilates itself as much as
may be according to the vast dimensions of the di
vine love, that it may comprehend " the height and
depth, the length and breadth" thereof, and ful the
soul, where it is seated, " with all the fulness of
God :" it breeds a strong and unsatiable appetite
where it comes after true goodness. Were I to
describe it, I should do it no otherwise than in the
language of the apostle ; it is that whereby " we_
live in Christ," and whereby " he lives.. in us.;* or,
in the dialect of our Saviour himself, something so
powerfully sucking in the precious influences ofthe
divine Spirit, that the soul where it is, is continual
ly flowing with living waterst issuing out of itself.
A truly believing soul, by an ingenuous affiance in
God, and an eager thirst after him, is always suck
ing from the full breasts of the divine love ; thence
* GaU ii. 20. f John vii. 38.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 367
it will not part, for there, and there only, is its life*
and nourishment ; it starves and faints away with
grief and hunger, whensoever it is pulled away from
thence ; it is perpetuaUy hanging upon the arms of
immortal goodness, for there it finds its great
strength lies ; and, as much as may be, arms itself
with the mighty power of God, by which it goes
forth like a giant refreshed with wine, to run that
race of grace and holiness that leads to the true
Elysium of glory, and that heavenly Canaan which
is above. And whensoever it finds itself enfeebled
in its difficult conflict with those fierce and furious
corruptions, those tall sons of Anak, which arising
from our terrene and sensual affections do here en
counter it in the wUderness of this world; then
turning itself to God, and putting itself under the
conduct of the Angel of his presence, it finds itself
presently out of weakness to become strong, ena
bled from above to put to flight those mighty
armies of the aliens. True faith (if you would
know its rise and pedigree) is begotten of the
divine bounty and fulness manifesting itself to the
spirits of men, and it is conceived and brought
forth by a deep and humble sense of self-indigency
and poverty. Faith arises out of self-examination,
seating and placing itself in view of the divine
plenitude and all-sufficiency ; and thus (that I may
borrow those words of St. Paul) " we received the
sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not
trust in ourselves but in him."* The more this
sensual, brutish, and self-central life thrives and
prospers, the more divine faith languisheth ; and

* 2 Cor. i. 9.

368 OF LEGAL AND
¦the more that decays, and all self-feeling, self-love,
and self-sufficiency pine away, the more is- true faith
fed and nourished, it grows more vigorous : and as
carnal life wastes and consumes, so the more does
faith suck in a true divine and spiritual life from
the true Auro&ii who hath life in himself, and free
ly bestows it to all those that heartily seek for it.
L. WJienjhe Divinity united itself to human riature in
the person of our Saviour, he then gave mankind a
pledge and earnest of what he would further do
therein, in bringing it into as near a conjunction as
might be with himself) and in dispensing and com
municating himseU' to man in a way as far corres
pondent and agreeable as might be to that first co
py. And therefore we are told of " Christ being
formed in us," and " the Spirit of Christ dwelling
in us ; of our being made conformable to him, of
having feUowship with him, of being as he was in
this world, of living in him and his living in us, of
dying, and rising again, and ascending with him
into heaven," and the like : because indeed the
same Spirit that dwelt in him, extends itself in its
mighty virtue and energy through all believing
souls, shaping them more and more into a just re-
, semblance and conformity to him as the first copy
\ and pattern : whence it is that we have so many
! ways of unfolding the union between Christ and aU
"; believers set forth in the gospel. And all this is
[done for us by degrees, through the efficacy ofthe
jeternal Spirit, when by a true faith we deny our-
| selves and our own wUls, submit ourselves in a deep
(sense of our own folly and weakness to his wisdom
and power, comply with his will, and by a holy af-

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 369
fiance in him, subordinate ourselves to his pleasure : /
for these are the vital actsjof a .gospel-f aith. '
And according to this which hath been said, 1
suppose we may fairly gloss upon St. Paul's dis
courses which so much prefer faith above works.
We must not think in a giant-hke pride to scale the
waUs of heaven by oui' own works, and by force
thereof to take the strong fort of blessedness, and
wrest the crown of glory out of God's hands whe
ther he will or no. We must not think to com
mence a suit in heaven for happiness, upon such a
poor and weak plea as our own external compliance
with the old law is. We must not think to deal
with God in the method of commutative justice,
and to challenge eternal life as the just reward of
our great merits, and the hire due to us for our la
bour and toU we have took in God's vineyard.
No, " God resists the proud, but gives grace to the
humble:"* it must be a humble and self-denyingf
address of a soul dissolved into a deep and piercing j
sense of its own nothingness and unprofitableness,
that can be capable of the divine bounty : " he
fills the hungry with good things, but the rich he
sends empty away."t They are the hungry and
thirsty souls, always gasping after the Hving springs
of divine grace, as the parched ground in the de
sert doth for the dew of heaven, ready to drink
them in by a constant dependance upon God ;
souls that by a living, watchful, and diligent faith,
spreading forth themselves in all obsequious rever
ence and love of him, wait upon him " as the eyes
of a handmaid wait on the hand of her mistress :"
* James iv. 6. t Luke '• S3>
3 A

370 OF LEGAL AND
these are they that he dehghts to satiate with his
goodness. Those that being mastered by a strong
sense of their own indigency, their pinching and
| pressing poverty, and his all-sufficient fulness, trust
in him as an almighty Saviour, and in the most ar
dent manner pursue after that perfection to which
I his grace is leading them ; those that cannot satisfy
I themselves in a bare performance of some external
lacts of righteousness, or an external observance of
!a law without them, but with the most greedy and
; fervent ambition pursue after such an acquaintance
with his divine Spirit as may breathe an inward life
through all the powers of their souls, and beget in
them a vital form and soul of divine goodness.
These are the spiritual seed of faithful Abraham,
the sons of the free-woman and heirs of the pro
mises, to whom all are made " Yea and Amen in
Christ Jesus."* These are they which shall abide
in the house for ever, when the sons of the bond
woman, those that are only Arabian proselytes,
shall be cast out.
* 2 Cor. i. 20.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 371

y y ^ycuAP. vii. u^ y u
An appendix to the foregoing discourse; How the whole business
and undertaking qf Christ is eminently available both to give full
relief and ease to our minds and hearts, and also to encourage us
to godliness or a godlike righteousness, briefly represented in sun
dry particulars.
X* OR the further illustration of some things espe
cially in the latter part of this discourse, it may not
be amiss in some particulars, which might easfly be
enlarged, to show, How the undertaking qf Christ,
that great object of faith, is greatly advantageous
and available to the giving full relief and ease to our
minds and hearts, and also to the encouraging us to
godliness, or a true godlike righteousness.
In the general therefore we may consider, That
fuU and evident assurance is given hereby to the
world, that God doth indeed " seek the saving of
that which is lost ;"* and men are no longer to
make any doubt or scruple of it. Now what can
we imagine more avaUable to carry on a design pf
godliness, and to rouse dull and languid souls to
an effectual minding of their own salvation, than
to have this news sounding in their ears by men
that, at the first promulgation thereof, durst teU
them roundly in the name of God, that God re
quired them every where to repent, for that his
kingdom of grace was now .apparent ; and that
he was not only willing, but it was his gracious
design to save and recover lost sinners who had
forsaken his goodness ?
* Luke xix. 10.
3

372 OF LEGAL AND
Particularly, that the whole business of Christ
is very advantageous for this purpose, and highly
accommodate thereto, may appear thus :
1. We are fully assured that God hath this fore-
mentioned design upon lost men, because here is
one (yiz^ Christ) that partakes every way of hu
man nature, in whom the Divinity magnifies itself,
and carries through this world in human infiririi-
ties'and sufferings to eterrial glory: ajplear ma
nifestation to the world that God had not cast off
human nature, but had a real mind to "exalt an a
'dignify' it again.
2. The way into the holy of holies or to eternal '
happiness is laid as open as may be by Christ, injiis_
doctrine, life, and death : in all which we may see
with open face what human nature may "attain to",
and how it may by humility, self-denial, divine
love, and a Christ-like life, rise above *all visible
heavens into a state of immortal glory and bliss.
3. Here is a manifestation of lovejjiven, enough
to thaw all the icyness of men's hearts which self-
love had quite frozen up : for here is one who, in
human nature most heartUy every where denying
himself, is ready to do any thing for the good of
mankind, and at last gives up his life for the same
purpose ; and that according to the good will and
pleasure of that eternal love which " so loved
the world, that he gave" this beloved and " his only
begotton Son, that whosoever believeth in him,
should not perish, but have everlasting life."*
4. Whereas every penitent sinner carries a sense
of guilt upon his. own conscience, is apt to shrink
* John iii. 16.

EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 373
with cold chUl fears of offended majesty, and to
dread the thoughts of violated justice : he is as
sured that Christ hath laid down his Hfe, and
thereby made propitiation and atonement for sin ;
that he hath laid down his life for the redemption
of him ; and so in Christ " we have redemption
through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins."*
Thus may the hearts of all penitents, troubled at
first with a sense of their own guilt, be quieted, and]
fully estabhshed in a living faith and hope in anj
eternal goodness ; seeing how their sins are remitted '
through the blood of Jesus who came to die for
them and save them, and through his blood they
may have free access unto God.
5. Seeing sin and guilt are apt continually to be
get a jealousy of God's majesty and greatness, from
whom the sinner finds himself at a vast distance, he
is made acquainted with a mediator, through whom
he may address himself to God, without this jea
lousy or doubting ; for that this mediator likewise
is one of human nature, that is highly beloved and
accepted of God, he having so highly pleased God
by performing his will in all things. Certainly it
is very decorous and much for the ease of a peni
tent's mind, (as it makes also for the disparagement
of sin) that our addresses to God should be through
a mediator. The Platonists wisely observed that
between the pure, Divinity and impure sinners as
there is no union, so no communion : it is very
agreeable every way and upon all accounts, that
they who in themselves are altogether unworthy and
under demerit, should come to God by a mediator.
* Eph. i. 7.

}

374 OF LEGAL RIGHTEOUSNESS, &C.
Thus the Scripture every where seems to repre
sent and hold forth Christ in the forenamed parti
culars, without descending into niceties and subtil
ties, such as the schoolmen and others from them
have troubled the world with, in a very full and
ample manner, that so the minds of true believers,
that are willing to comply with the purpose of God
for their own eternal peace, might in aU cases find
something in Christ for their relief, and make use
of him, as much as may be, to encourage and help
j on godliness : for by this whole undertaking of
Christ manifested in the gospel, God would have
to be understood full relief of mind and ease of con-
i science, as also all encouragement to godliness, and
disparagement of sin. AnU indeed the whole bu
siness of Christ is the greatest blow tovmTHatmay
be ; for the world is taught hereby, that there is no,
sinning upon cheap and easy, terms : men may see
'ill Willi 1 HI ¦ ¦¦_! ¦ i ¦  rf.£^— — ^»*tf"-W^ J
that ' laod will not return so easily into favour with
sinners ; but he will have his righteousness acknow
ledged, and likewise their own demerit. And this
acknowledgment he is once indeed pleased to ac
cept of in the person of our Saviour : yet if men
will not now turn to him, and accept his favour, they
must know that there is no other sacrifice for sin.
By these particulars upon which we have briefly
touched, to name no more, it may appear, that
when we look into the gospel, we are taught to be
lieve that Christ hath done, according to the good
pleasure of God, every thing for us that may truly
relieve our minds, and encourage us to godhness, jl
godlike righteousness far exceeding the righteous
ness of the Scribes and Pharisees.

A
DISCOVERY
OF THE
SHORTNESS AND VANITY
OF A
PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS;

AN ACCOUNT OF THE FALSE GROUNDS UPON WHICH
MEN ARE APT VAINLY TO CONCEIT THEM
SELVES TO BE RIGHTEOUS.

And he said unto the Pharisees, Ye are they which justify yourselves before men ;
but God knoweth your hearts : for that which is highly esteemed amongst men, is
abomination in the sight of God. Luke xvi. IS.
TIccf o Ixutov xtfatpyms xaSagov, eixuSag<Tov leturov viXtitas xttrex^ivt.
Epiphanius in Hjeres. 59. xnra. KxS-a^m.
Nulli facilius ad magnam pietatis famam perveniunt, qu&m svperstitiosi vel
hypocritee. Renatus Des Cartes in Epist. ad Frinc. Elizabethan.

THE
SHORTNESS AND VANITY
OF A
PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS,
DISCOVERED IN A DISCOURSE UPON
Matt, xix: 20, 21.
The young man saith unto him, AU these things have I kept from my youth
up : what lack I yet ? Jesus saith unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell
that thou hast, and give it to the ]ioor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven i
and come and follow me.

CHAP. I.
A general account of men's mistakes about religion. Men are no
where more lazy and sluggish, and more apt to delude themselves,
than in matters qf religion. The religion of most men is bid an
image and resemblance of their own fancies. The method pro
pounded for discoursing upon those words in St. Matthew.
1. To discover some qf the false mistakes and notions about reli
gion. 2. To discover the reason qf these mistakes. A brief
explication qf the words.
As there is no kind of excellency more generally
pretended to than religion, so there is none less
known, or wherein men are more apt to delude them
selves. Every one is ready to lay claim, and to plead
a right in it ; like the bat in the Jewish fable, that
pretended the light was her's, and complained of
the unjust detainment thereof from her ; but few

378 THE VANITY OF A
there are that understand the true worth and pre-
ciousness of it. There are some common notions
and a natural instinct of devotion seated in the
minds of men, which are ever and anon roving
after religion ; and as they casuaUy and fortuitously
start up any models and ideas of it, they are pre
sently prone to believe themselves to have found
out this only pearl of price : the religion of most
men being indeed nothing else but such a strain
and scheme of thoughts and actions, as their natu
ral propensions, swayed by nothing else but an in
bred belief of a Deity, accidentally run into ; no
thing else but an image and resemblance of their
own fancies which are ever busy in painting out
themselves ; which is the reason why there are as
many shapes and features of religion painted forth
in the minds of men, as there are various shapes of
faces and fancies. Thus men are wont to fashion
and delineate their religion to themselves in a
strange and uncouth manner, as the imaginations
of men in their dreams are wont to represent mon
strous and hideous shapes of things, that appear no
where else but there. And though some may seem
to themselves to have ascended up above this low
region, this vulgar state of religion ; yet I doubt
they may stUl be wrapped up in clouds and dark
ness, they may still be but in a middle region, like
wandering meteors that have not yet shaken off
that gross and earthly nature, which wiU at last
force them again downwards. There may be some
who may arrive at that book-skUl and learning in
divine mysteries, that with a Pharisaical pride look
ing down upon the rude and vulgar sort of men,
may say, " This people that knows not the law are

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 379
cursed ;"* who themselves yet converse only with
an airy ghost and shadow of religion : though the
light of divine truth may seem to shine upon them,
yet by reason of their dark and opacous hearts, it
shines not into them : they may, Hke this dark and
duU earth, be superficially guilded, and warmed
too, with its beams, and yet the impressions thereof
do not pierce quite through them. There may be
many fair semblances of religion where the sub
stance and power of it is not. We shaU here en
deavour to discover some of them which may seem
most specious, and with which the weak understand
ings of men, which are no where more lazy and
sluggish than in matters of religion, are most apt
to be deluded ; and then discover the reason of
these mistakes.
For which purpose we have made choice of these
words, wherein we find a young Pharisee beginning
to swell with a vain conceit of his good estate to
wards God, looking upon himself as being already
upon the borders of perfection, having from his
youth up kept on a constant course in the way of
'God's commandments ; he could not now be many
miles from the land of Canaan, if he were not al
ready passed over Jordan ; he thought himself to
be already in a state of perfection, or at least with
in sight of it : and therefore making account he
was as lovely in our Saviour's eyes as he was in his
own, asks bim, « What lack I yet ?"
For the understanding of which we must know
the Jews were wont to distinguish righteous men
into two sorts, =?"« and =nmj crp-tt to which this
* John vii. 49.

380 THE VANITY OF A
query of his seems to refer, as if he had said, Hav
ing kept all God's commandments, sure my good
deeds cannot only overbalance my evil, no, but
they rather fiU both the scales of the divine ba
lance ; I have no evil deeds to weigh against them :
what therefore can I want of the end and scope of
the divine law, wliich is to make men perfect, seeing
I have guided my whole Hfe from my youth up by
the precepts of it ? To which our Saviour replies ;
" If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast,
and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure
in heaven : and come and foUow me." Which
words I can neither think to be spoken as consilium
perfectionis in the papal sense, nor yet only as a par
ticular and special precept ; but rather by way of
conviction : so that the full sense and importance
of our Saviour's speech seems to be this, viz. A
mere conformity of the outward man to the law of
God is not sufficient to bring a man to eternal life ;
but the inward man also must deeply receive in the
stamp and impression of the divine law, so as to be
made like to God. True perfection is not consist
ent with any terrene loves or worldly affections :
this mundane life and spirit which acts so strongly
and impetuously in this lower world, must be cru
cified : the soul must be wholly dissolved from this
earthy body in which it is so deeply immersed,
while it endeavours to enlarge its sorry tabernacle
upon this material globe, and by a holy .abstraction
from aU things that pinion it to mortality, withdraw
itself and retire into a divine solitude. If thou
therefore wert in a state of perfection, thou would
est be able at the first caU from God to resign up
aU interest here below, to quit aU claim, and to dis-

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 381
pose of thyself and all worldly enjoyments accord
ing to his pleasure, without any reluctancy; " and
come and follow me." And this I think was the
true scope of our Saviour's answer ; which proved
a real demonstration, as it appears in the sequel of
the story, that this confident Pharisee had not yet
attained to those mortified affections which are re
quisite in aU the candidates of true blessedness ;
but only cheated his own soul with a bare external
appearance of reHgion, which was not truly seated
in his heart : and I doubt not but many are ready
upon as slight grounds, and with as much confidence,
to take up his query, " What lack 1 yet ?"
We shaU therefore in the first place, according to
what we promised, inquire into some of those false
pretences wliich men are apt to make to happiness,
and show in four particulars how religion is mis
taken.

CHAP. II.

An account qf men's mistakes about religion in four particulars.
1. A partial obedience to some particular precepts. The false
spirit qf religion spends itself in some particulars, is confined,
is oversmayed by some prevailing lust. Men qf this spirit may
by some book-skill, and a zeal about the externals qf religion,
lose the sense qf their own guiltiness, and qf their deficiencies
in the essentials qf godliness, and fancy themselves nearly related
to God. Where the true spirit qf religion is it informs and ac
tuates the whole man, it will not be confined, but will be absolute
within us, and not suffer any corrupt interest to grow by it.
_L HE Jirst is, A partial obedience to some particular
precepts qf God's law. That arrogant Pharisee who

382 THE VANITY OF A
could lift up a bold face to heaven, and thank God
he was no extortioner, nor unjust, nor guUty of any
publican-sins, found it easy to persuade himseU'
that God justified him as much as he did himself.
It was a vulgar rule given by the Jewish doctors,
which I fear too many live by, ' That men should
single out some one commandment out of God's
law, and therein especially exercise themselves, that
so they might make God their friend by that, lest
in others they should too much displease him.'
Thus men are content fax&Zpiv, to pay God their
decinuv, and septinue of their lives too, if need be,
so that they may without fear of sacrilege, or pur
loining, as they suppose, from him, enjoy all the
rest to themselves : but they are not wiUing to con
secrate their whole lives to him, they are afraid lest
religion should encroach too much upon them, and
too busUy invade thek own rights and Hberties, as
their selfish spirit caUs them.
There are such who perhaps think themselves
wUling that God should have his due, providing
that he also let them enjoy their own without any
let or molestation ; but they are very jealous lest
he should encroach too much upon them, and are
careful to maintain a meum and tuum with heaven
itself, and to set bounds to God's prerogative over
them, lest it should swell too much, and grow too
mighty for them to maintain their own privileges
under it. They would fain understand themselves
to be free-born under the dominion of God himself,
and therefore ought not to be compelled to yield
obedience to any such laws of his as their own pri
vate seditious lusts and passions will not suffer them
to give their consent unto.

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 383
There are such who persuade themselves they
are weU affected to God, and willing to obey his
commandments, but yet think they must not be
uncivU to the world ; nor so base and cowardly as
not to maintain their own credit and reputation,
with a due revenge upon those that seem to impair
it ; or so much forget themselves, as not to comply
with the guise and fashion of this world so far as it
may make for their own emolument or preferment.
Such as these, that are no fast friends to religion,
can easdy find some postern door to slip out by in
to this world : and whUe they either do some con
stant homage to heaven in the exercise and per
formance of some duties of reHgion, or abstain from
such vices as the common opinions of men brand
with infamy, or can fancy themselves to be marked
out with some of those characters which they have
learned from books or pulpit discourses to be the
notes of God's chUdren and justified persons ; they
grow big with self-conceit, and can easily find out
some handsome piece of sophistry and cunning to
pic to delude themselves by, in indulging some be-,
loved lust or other : they can sometimes beat down
the price of other men's religion, to enhance the
value of their own ; or it may be by a burning and
fiery zeal against the opinions and deportments of
others that are not of their own sect, they may
lose the sense of aU their own. guiltiness. The
disciples themselves had almost forgotten the mUd
and gentle spirit of religion, when in an overhasty
heat, they caUed for fire down from heaven upon
those whom they deemed their master's enemies.
Sometimes a partial spirit in religion, that spends
itself only in some particulars, mistakes the fair

384 THE VANITY OF A
complexions of good nature for the true face of vir
tue ; and a good boduy temperament will serve it,
as a flattering glass, to bestow beauty upon a de
formed and misshapen mind, that it may seem vir
tuous. But it is not a true spirit of religion, what
soever those wanton wits may caU it, that is thus
particular and confined. No, that is of a subtUe
and working nature, it wiU be searching through
the whole man, and leave nothing uninformed by
itself: as it is with the soul that runs through all
the portions of matter and every member of the
body. Sin and grace cannot lodge together, they
cannot divide and share out between them two
several dominions in one soul.
What is commonly said of truth in general, we
may say more especiaUy of true goodness, magna
est, et praevaUbit : it wiH lodge in the souls of men,
like that mighty, though gentle, heat which is en
tertained in the heart, that always, dispenseth warm
blood and spirits to all the members in the body :
it will not suffer any other interest to grow by it :
it will be so absolute as to swallow up all our car
nal freedom, and crush down aU our fleshly liberty :
as Moses' serpent did eat up aU the serpents ofthe
Egyptian magicians, so will it devour all that vi
perous brood of iniquity, which our magical self-
wiU by her witchcraft and enchantments begets
within us: Hke a strong and vehement flame with
in us, it wiH not only singe the hair, or scorch
and bHster'the skin, but it wUl go on to consume
this whole body of death : it is compared by our
Saviour to leaven that wiU ferment the whole mass
in which it is wrapped up : it wul enter into us like
the refiner's fire, and the fuller's soap: like the

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 385
Angel of God's presence that he promised to send
along with the Israelites in their journey to Canaan,
it wiU not pardon our iniquities, nor indulge any
darling lust whatsoever : it will narrowly pry into
all our actions, and be spying out all those back
ways and doors whereby sin and vice may enter.
That religion that runs out only in particulari
ties, and is overswayed by the prevailing power of
any lust, is but only a dead carcass, and not indeed
that true living religion which comes from heaven,
and which will not suffer itself to be confined ; that
will not indent with us, or article upon our terms
and conditions, but Sampson-Hke will break all
those bonds, with which our fleshly and harlot-like
wiUs would tie it, and become every way absolute
within us. And so I pass to the second thing
wherein men are apt to delude themselves in taking
an estimate of their own religion, viz.

CHAP. III.

The second mistake about religion, viz. A mere compliance qf the
outward man with the law qf God. True religion seats itself in
the centre of men's souls, and first brings the inward man into
obedience to the law qf God: the superficial religion intermeddles
chiefly with ihe circumference and outside qf men ; or rests in
an outward abstaining from some sins. Of speculative, and the
most close and spiritual, wickedness within. How apt men are
to sink all religion into opinions and external forms.
2. A mere compliance qf the outward nyxn with the j
law of God. There is an o gg» and an o sW clvdgtuffos ' •
3 c

388 THE VANITY OF A
amoured rather with some more specious and seem
ingly spiritual forms, than with the true spirit and
power of godliness and reHgion itself. We are more
taken commonly with the several new fashions that
the luxuriant fancies of men are apt to contrive for
it, than with the real power and simplicity thereof :
and while we think ourselves to be growing in our
knowledge, and moving on towards a state of per
fection, we do but turn up and down from one kind
of form to another ; we are as apt still to draw it
down into as low, worldly, and mundane rites and
ordinances, as ever it was before our Saviour made
that glorious reformation therein, which took away
these material crutches made up of carnal observe
ances, upon which earthly minds so much lean, and
are fain to underprop their religion with, which else
would tumble down and fall to nothing : except we
can cast it into such a certain set of duties and
system of opinions, that we may see it altogether
from one end to another, we are afraid lest it should
become too abstruse a thing and vanish away from
us. I would not be misunderstood to speak against
those duties and ordinances which are necessary
means appointed by God to promote us in the ways
i of piety : but I fear we are too apt to sink all our
\ religion into these) and so to embody it, that we
may as it were touch and feel it, because we are so
\ little acquainted with the high and spiritual nature
| of it, which is too subtile for gross and carnal minds
/ to converse with. I fear our vulgar sort of Chris
tians are wont so to look upon such kind of models
of divinity and religious performances, which were
intended to help our duU minds to a more lively

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 389
sense of God and true goodness, as those things
that claim the whole of their reHgion : and there
fore are too apt to think themselves absolved from
it, except at some solemn times of more especial
addresses to God ; and that this wedding garment
of holy thoughts and divine affections is not for
every day's wearing, but only then to be put on
when we come to the marriage-feast and festivals of
heaven : as if religion were fast locked and bound
up in some sacred solemnities, and so incarcerated
and incorporated into some divine mysteries, as the
superstitious heathen of old thought, that it might
not stir abroad and wander too far out of these hal
lowed cloisters, and grow too busy with us in our
secular employments. We_hayejearned to distin
guish jtoo^subtily I doubt in our lives and conver-,
sations inter sacrum et prqfanum, our religious ap- ,
proaches to God and our worldly affairs. I know
our conversation and demeanour in this world is
not, nor can well be, all of a piece, and there will
be several degrees of sanctity in the lives of the
best men, as there were once in the land of Canaan :
but yet^ I think a good man jhould always find him
self upon holy ground, and never depart so far into
the affairs of this life, as to be without either the
call or compass of religion ; he should always think
wheresoever he is, etiam ibi DU sunt, that God and
the blessed angels are there, with whom he should
converse in a way of purity. We must not think
that religion serves to paint our faces, to reform
our looks, or only to inform our heads, or instruct
and tune our tongues ; no, nor only to tie our
hands, and make our outward *man more demure,
and bring our bodies and bodUy actions into a> bet-

390 THE VANITY OF A
ter decorum : but its main business is to purge and
reform our hearts and all the illicit actions and mo
tions thereof. And so I come to a third particular
wherein we are apt to misjudge ourselves in matters
of religion.

CHAP. IV.

The third mistake about religion, viz. A constrained and forced
obedience to God's commandments. The religion of many (some
qf whom would seem most abhorrent from superstition) is nothing
else but superstition properly so called. False religionists,
having no inward sense qf the divine goodness, cannot truly love
God, yet their sour and dreadful apprehensions of God compel
them to serve him. A slavish spirit in religion may be very pro
digal in such kind qf serving God as doth not pinch their cor
ruptions ; but in the great and weightier matters qf religion, in
such things as prejudice their beloved lusts, it is very needy and
sparing. This servile spirit has low and mean thoughts of God,
but a high opinion of its outward services, as conceiting that by
such cheap things God is gratified and becomes indebted to it.
The different effects of love and slavish fear in the truly, and in
the falsely, religious.
3. ANOTHER particular wherein men mistake
religion, is, A constrained and forced obedience lo
God's commandments. That which many men
(amongst whom some would seem to be most ab
horrent from superstition) call their religion, is in
deed nothing else but a ds/ff/da/^oe/a,* that I may
use the word in its ancient and proper sense, as it
* See the Tract of Superstition.

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 391
imports ' such an apprehension of God as renders
him grievous to men, and so destroys all free and
cheerful converse with him, and begets instead
thereof a forced and dry devotion, void of inward
Hfe and love.' Those servile spirits which are not
acquainted with God and his goodness, may be so
haunted by the frightful thoughts of a Deity, as to
scare and terrify them into some worship and ob
servance of him. They are apt to look upon him
as one clothed with austerity, or, as the Epicurean
poet hath too truly painted out their thoughts, as a
savus dominus, that is, in the language of the unpro
fitable servant in the gospel, " a hard master ;"
and therefore they think something must be done
to please him, and to mitigate his severity towards
them : and though they cannot truly love him,
having no inward sense of his loveliness, yet they
cannot but serve him so far as these rigorous ap
prehensions lie upon them ; though notwithstand
ing such as these are very apt to persuade them
selves that they may pacify him and purchase his
favour with some cheap services, as if heaven itself
could become guilty of bribery, and an immutable
justice be flattered into partiality and respect of
persons. Because they are not acquainted with
God, and know him not as he is in himself, there
fore they are ready to paint him forth to themselves
in their own shape : and because they themselves
are fuU of peevishness and seU-wiU, arbitrarUy im
posing and prescribing to others without sufficient
evidence of reason, and are easily enticed by flat
teries ; they are apt to represent the Divinity also
to themselves in the same form, and think they
view the true portraiture and draught of their own

392 THE VANITY OF A
genius in it ; and therefore, that they might please
this angry deity of their own making, they care
not sometimes to be lavish in such a kind of ser
vice of him as doth not much pinch their own cor
ruptions ; nay, and it may be too, will seem to part
with them sometimes, and give them a weeping
farewell, if God and their own awakened con
sciences seem to frown upon them ; though all
their obedience arise from nothing else but the
compulsions and necessities which their own sour
and dreadful apprehensions of God lay upon
them : and therefore in those things which more
nearly touch their own beloved lusts, they will be
as s*cant and sparing as may be ; here they will
be as strict with God as may be, that he may
have no more than his due, as they think, like
that unprofitable servant in the gospel, that, be
cause his master was " an austere man, reaping
where he had not sown, and gathering where he
had not scattered,"* was content and willing he
should have his own again, but would not suffer
him to have any more.
This servUe spirit in religion is always illiberal
and needy in the magnolia legis, the great and
weightier matters of religion, and here weighs out
obedience by drachms and scruples : it never finds
itself more shriveUed and shrunk up, than when it
is to converse with God; Hke those creatures that
are generated of slime and mud, the more the
summer sun shines upon them, and the nearer it
comes to them, the more is aU their vital strength
dried up and spent away : their dreadful thoughts
* Matt. xxv. 24.

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 393
of God, like a cold eastern wind, blasts all their
blossoming affections, and nips them in the bud :
these exhaust their native vigour, and make them
weak and sluggish in all their motions toward God.
Their religion is rather a prison or a piece of
penance to them, than any voluntary and free com
pliance of then' souls with the divine will : and yet
because they bear the burden and heat of the day,
they think, when the evening comes, they ought
to be more Hberally rewarded ; such slavish spirits
being ever apt inwardly to conceit that heaven re
ceives some emolument or other by their hard la
bours, and so becomes indebted to them, because
they see no true gain and comfort accruing from
them to their own souls ; and so because they do
God's work and not their own, they think they
may reasonably expect a fair compensation, as
having been profitable to him. And this, I doubt,
was the first and vulgar foundation of merit: though
now the world is ashamed to own it.
But alas, such an ungodlike religion as this can
never be owned by God : the bond- woman and her
son must be cast out. The spirit of true religion
is of a more free, noble, ingenuous, and generous |
nature, arising out of the warm beams of the di
vine love which first hatched it and brought it forth,
and therefore is it afterwards perpetually bathing
itself in that sweetest love that first begot it, and is
always refreshed and nourished by it. This " love
casteth out fear, fear which hath torment in it,"*
and is therefore more apt to chase away souls once
wounded with it from God, rather than allure them

* 1 John iv. 18.
3D

394 THE VANITY OF A
to God. Such fear of God always carries in " it a
secret antipathy against him, as being "Kut^oii kcu
fikoLfizepv, as Plutarch speaks, ' one that is so trou
blesome, that there is no quiet or peaceable living
with him.' Whereas love, by a strong sympathy,
draws the souls of men, when it hath once laid hold
upon them by its powerful insinuation, into the near
est conjunction that may be with the Divinity ; it
thaws all those frozen affections which a slavish fear
had congealed and locked up, and makes the soul
most cheerful, free, and nobly resolved in all its
motions after God. It was well observed of old
by Pythagoras, (isXriaroi yivo^s^a -rgoj rods Ssovg
fiaoiZovrig, ' we are never so well as when we ap
proach to God ;' when, in a way of religion, we
make our addresses to God, then are our souls most
cheerful. True religion and an inward acquaint
ance with God, discovers nothing in him but pure
and sincere goodness, nothing that might breed
the least distaste or disaffection, or carry in it -any
semblance of displeasingness ; and therefore the
souls of good men are never pinching and sparing
in their affections : theft the torrent is most full
and swells highest, when it empties itself into this
unbounded ocean of the Divine Being. This makes
all the commandments of God light and easy, and
far from being grievous. There needs no law to
compel a mind, acted by the w^e spirit of divine
love, to serve God or to comply wifctChis will.* It
is'the choice" of such a soul to endeavour to con
form itself to him, and draw from him, as much as
may be, an imitation of that goodness and per-
* Quis legem det amantibus? major lex amor est sibi. Boetius, Lib. III.
de Consol. Philos. 4

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 395
fection which it finds in him. Such a Christian
does not therefore obey his commands only because
it is God's will he should do so, but because he
sees the law of God to be truly perfect, as David
speaks :* his nature being reconciled to God, finds
it all " holy, just, and good,"t as St. Paul speaks,
and such a thing as his soul loves, " sweeter than
the honey or the honey-comb ;" and he makes it
" his meat and drink to do the will of God," as
our Lord and Saviour did. And so I pass to the
fourth and last particular, wherein religion is some
times mistaken.

CHAP. V.

The fourth and last mistake about religion, When a mere me
chanical and artificial reUgion is taken for that which is a true
impression qf heaven upon the souls qf men, and which moves
like a new nature. How reUgion is by some made a piece qf
art, and how there may be specious and plausible imitations of
the internals of religion as well as of' the externals. The
method and power qf fancy in contriving such artificial imita
tions. How apt men are in these to deceive both themselves and
others. The difference between those that are governed in their
religion by fancy, and those that are actuated by the divine"
Spirit and in wliom religion is a living form. That true reli
gion is no art, but a new nature. Religion discovers itself best
in a serene and clmr temper of mind, in deep humility, meek
ness, self-denial, universal love qf God and all true goodness.
JL HE fourth and last particular wherein men mis
judge themselves, is, When a mere mechanical and
* Psal. xix. 7. f Rom. vii. 12.

//

394> THE VANITY OF A
to God. Such fear of God always carries in ' it a
secret antipathy against him, as being Xinnjgov kui
j8Xa|8sgoV, as Plutarch speaks, ' one that is so trou
blesome, that there is no quiet or peaceable living
with him.' Whereas love, by a strong sympathy,
draws the souls of men, when it hath once laid hold
upon them by its powerful insinuation, into the near
est conjunction that may be with the Divinity ; it
thaws all those frozen affections which a slavish fear
had congealed and locked up, and makes the soul
most cheerful, free, and nobly resolved in all its
motions after God. It was well observed of old
by Pythagoras, (Z'sXriaroi yivofjus^a irgbg roug Ssoug
(ZadlZpprsg, ' we are never so well as when we ap
proach to God ;' when, in a way of religion, we
make our addresses to God, then are our souls most
cheerful. True religion and an inward acquaint
ance with God, discovers nothing in him but pure
and sincere goodness, nothing that might breed
the least distaste or disaffection, or carry in it any
semblance of displeasingness ; and therefore the
souls of good men are never pinching and sparing
in their affections : theft the torrent is most full
and swells highest, when rt empties itself into this
unbounded ocean of the Divine Being. This makes
all the commandments of God Hght and easy, and
far from being grievous. There needs no law to
compel a mind, acted by the vtaajLe spirit of divine
love, to serve God or to comply wTttCjiis will.* It
is the choice of such a soul to endeavour to con
form itself to him, and draw from him, as much as
may be, an imitation of that goodness and per-
* Quis legem det amantibus ? major lex amor est sibi. Boetius, Lib. III.
de Consol. Philos. 4

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 395
fection which it finds in him. Such a Christian.
does not therefore obey his commands only because
it is God's will he should do so, but because he
sees the law of God to be truly perfect, as David
speaks :* his nature being reconciled to God, finds j
it all " holy, just, and good,"t as St. Paul speaks, I
and such a thing as his soul loves, " sweeter than!
the honey or the honey-comb ;" and he makes it\
" his meat and drink to do the will of God," as \
our Lord and Saviour did. And so I pass to the \
fourth and last particular, wherein religion is some- |
times mistaken.

CHAP. V.

The fourth and last mistake about religion, When a mere me
chanical and artificial reUgion is taken for that which is a true
impression qf heaven upon ihe souls qf men, and which moves
like a new nature. How religion is by some made a piece qf
art, and how there may be specious and plausible imitatitms of
the internals qf religion as well as qf' the externals. The
method and power qf fancy in contriving such artificial imita
tions. How apt men are in these to deceive both themselves and
others. The difference between those that are governed in their
religion by fancy, and those that ar$ actuated by the divini
Spirit and in whom religion is a living form. That true reli
gion is no art, but a new nature. Religion discovers itself best
in a serene and clear temper of mind, in deep humility, meek
ness, self-denial, universal love qf God and all true goodness.
X HE fourth and last particular wherein men mis
judge themselves, is, When a mere mechanical and
* Psal. xix. 7. f Rwn- vii. 12.

//

396' THE VANITY OF A
i I artificial religion is taken for that which is a true im-r
' pression of heaven jupozLtte- souls of \menx and which
moves like an inward nature. True religion will not
stoop to rules of art, nor be confined within the
narrow compass thereof: no, where it is, we may cry
out with the Greek philosopher, Itrrt rig ®zog hdov
God hath there kindled, as it were, his own life,
which will move and act only according to the laws
of heaven. But there are some mechanical Chris-;^
tians that can frame and fashion out religion so
cunningly in their own souls, by that book-skill they
have got of it, that it may many times deceive
themselves, as if it were a true living thing. We
often hear that mere pretenders to religion may go
as far in all the external acts of it, as those that are
best acquainted with it : I doubt not also but many
times there may be artificial imitations drawn of
that which only Hves in the souls of good men, by
the powerful and wily magic of exalted fancies ; as
we read of some artificers that have made such im
ages of living creatures, wherein they have not only
drawn forth the outward shape, but seem almost to
have copied out the life also in them. Men may
make an imitation as well of those things which we
call the internals of religion, as of the externals.
There may be a semblance of inward joy in God,
of love to him and his precepts, of dependance
upon him, and a filial reverence of him ; which by
the contrivance and power of fancy may be repre
sented in a masque upon the stage of the animal

\

part of a man's soul. Those Christians that fetch
all their religion from pious books and discourses,
hearing of such and such signs of grace and evi
dences of salvation, and being taught to believe

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 397
they must get those, that so they may go to hea
ven ; may presently begin to set themselves to
work, and in an apish imitation cause their animal
powers and passions to represent all these; and
fancy being weU acquainted with all those several
affections in the soul, that at any time express
themselves towards outward things, may, by the
power it hath over the passions, call them all forth
in the same mode and fashion, and then conjoin
with them some thoughts of God and divine things,
which may serve, thus put together, for a hand
some artifice ofj'eligion, wherein these mechanics
riiay much applaud themselves.
I doubt not but there may be such, who, to gain
credit with themselves, and that glorious name of
being the chUdren of God, though they know
nothing more of it but that it is a title that
sounds well, would use their best skUl to appear
such to themselves, so qualified and moulded as
they are told they must be. And as many times
credit and reputation among men may make them
polish the ruggedness of their outward man ; so to
gain their own good opinion, and a reputation with
their own consciences which look more inwardly,
they may also endeavour to make their inward man
look at sometimes more smooth and comely : and
it is no hard matter for such chameleon-like Chris
tians to turn even their insides into whatsoever hue
and colour shall best please them, and then, Nar
cissus-like, to faU in love with themselves : a strong
and nimble fancy having such command over the
animal spirits, that it can send them forth in full
troops which way soever it pleaseth, and by their
aid call forth and raise any kind of passion it Hsteth,

398 THE VANITY Of A
and when it Hsteth allay it again, as the poets say
iEolus Can do with the winds. As they say of the
force of imagination, that vis imaginativa signat
fcetum ; so imagination may stamp any idea that it
finds within itself upon the passions, and turn them
as it pleases to what seal it will set upon them, and
mould them into any likeness ; and a man looking
down and taking a view ofthe plot, as it is acted
upon the stage of the animal powers, may like and
approve it as a true platform of religion. Thus
may they easily deceive themselves, and think their
religion to be some mighty, thing within them, that
runs quite through them, and makes all these trans
formations within them ; whereas the rise and mo
tion of it may be all in the animal and sensitive
powers of the soul ; and a wise observer of it may
see whence it comes and whither it goes : it being
indeed a thing which is " from the earth, earthy,"
and not like that true spirit of regeneration which
comes from heaven, and begets a divine life in the
. souls of good men, and is not under the command
of any such charms as these are, neither will it
move according to those laws, and times, and mea
sures, that we please to set to it : but we shall find
it manifesting its mighty supremacy over the high
est powers of our souls. Whereas we may truly
say of all mechanics in religion, and our mimical
Christians, that they are not so much actuated and
informed by their religion, as they inform that ; the
power of their own imagination deriving that force
to it which bears it up, and guides all its motions
and operations. And therefore they themselves
having the power over it, can new mould it as
themselves please, according to any new pattern

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 399
which shall Hke them better than the former : they
can furnish this domestic scene of theirs with any
kind of matter which the history of other men's
religion may afford them ; and if need be, act over
all the experiences of that sect of men to which
they most addict themselves, so to the life, that
they may seem to themselves as well experienced
Christians as any others ; and so, it may be, soar
so aloft in self-conceit, as if they had already made
their nests amongst the stars, and had viewed their
own mansion in heaven. What was observed by
the stoic concerning the vulgar sort of men, o fiiog
vTokri-^ig, may as truly be said of this sort of Chris
tians, their life is nothing else but a strong energy
of fancy and opinion.
But besides, lest their religion might too grossly
discover itself to be nothing else but a piece of art,
there may be sometimes such extraordinary motions
stirred up within them, which may prevent all their
own thoughts, that they may seem to be a true
operation of the divine life ; when yet all this is
nothing else but the energy of their own self-love,
touched with some fleshly apprehensions of divine
things, and excited by them. There are such things
in our Christian religion that, when a carnal and
unhaUowed mind takes the chair and gets the ex
pounding of them, may seem very delicious to the
fleshly appetites of men : some doctrines and notions
of free grace and justification ; the magnificent titles
of sons of God and heirs of heaven ; ever-flowing
streams of joy and pleasure in which blessed souls
shall swim to all eternity ; a glorious paradise in
the world to come, always springing up with well-
scented and fragrant beauties ; a. New Jerusalem

400 THE VANITY OF A
paved with gold and bespangled with stars, com
prehending in its vast circuit such numberless va
rieties, that a busy curiosity may spend itself about
to all eternity. I doubt not but that sometimes the
most fleshly and earthly men, that fly their ambi
tion to the pomp of this world, may be so ravished
with the conceits of such things as these, that they
may seem to be made partakers of " the powers of
the world to come ;"* I doubt not but that they
may be as much exalted with them, as the souls of
crazed and distracted persons seem to be some
times, when their fancies play with those quick and
nimble spirits which a distempered frame of body,
and unnatural heat in their heads beget within
them. Thus may these blazing comets rise up
above the moon, and climb higher than the sun ;
which yet, because they have no solid consistency
of their own, and are of a base and earthly ally,
will soon vanish and fall down again, being only
borne up by an external force. They may seem to
themselves to have attained higher than those noble
Christians that are gently moved by the natural
force of true goodness ; they may seem to be ple-
niores Deo than those that are really informed and
actuated by the divine Spirit, and do. move on
steadily and constantly in the way towards heaven ;
as the seed that was sown in the thorny ground,
grew up and lengthened out its blade faster than
that which was sown in the good and fruitful soil.
And as the motions of our sense, fancy, and pas
sions, whUe our souls are in this mortal condition
sunk down deeply into the body, are many times
* Heb. vi. 5.

PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 401
more vigorous and make stronger impressions upon
us than those of the higher powers of the soul,
which are more subtUe and remote from these mixt
and animal perceptions; that devotion which is
there seated may seem to have more energy and
life in it than. that which gently, and with a more
dehcate kind of touch, spreads itself upon the un
derstanding, and from thence mUdly derives itself
through our wills and affections. But howsoever
the forrner may be more boisterous for a time, yet
this is of a more consistent, spermatical, and thriv
ing nature : for that proceeding indeed from no
thing else but a sensual and fleshly apprehension of
God and true happiness, is but of a flitting and
fading nature ; and as the sensible powers and fa
culties grow more languid, or the sun of divine
light shines more brightly upon us, these earthly
devotions Hke our culinary fires wiU abate their
heat and fervour. But a true celestial warmth wUl \
never be extinguished, because it is of an immortal I
nature ; and being once seated vitally in the souls
of men, it wUl regulate and order all the motions
of'it in a due manner, as the natural heat radicated
in the hearts of living creatures hath the dominion
and economy ofthe whole body under it, and sends
forth warm blood and spirits and vital nourishment
to every part and member of it. True religion is
no piece of artifice ; it is no boiling up of our ima
ginative powers, nor the glowing heats of passion ;
though these are too often mistaken for it, when in
our jugglings in religion we cast a mist before our
own eyes : but it is a Jiew nature informing the
souls of men ; it is a godlike frame of spirit, dis
covering itself most of all in serene and clear minds,
3 E

402 VANITY OF PHARISAICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS.
in deep humUity, meekness, self-denial, universal
Ipve of God and aU true goodness, without partial
ity and without hypocrisy ; whereby we are taught
to know God, and knowing him to love him, and
conform ourselves, as much as may be, to aU that
perfection which shines forth in him.

THE

EXCELLENCY AND NOBLENESS

TRUE RELIGION,
1, IN ITS RISE AND ORIGINAL.  2. IN ITS NATURE AND
ESSENCE.  3. IN ITS PROPERTIES AND OPERATIONS.
4. IN ITS PROGRESS.  5. IN ITS TERM AND END.

To the saints that are in the earth, and to the excellent, in whom is all my delight.
Psal. xvi. 3.
Ehy'tnia. }i vi rrii * uxovos rfiffTtffts, xai q it^s to o^itvitov V^ofioiumi, «'v ip.
lyei^trai Xoyos kcu apiril. Greg. Naziahzknus in Oral 11.
Eii-yivzta.ii di Xiyu, oux $v ol -rnXXai vop.i£euiriv. avTuyi. aAX' iit lUffifitiK- %itpux~
Trillion xoii vpo-xos, xou n yroos <ro xparov a-yaDov avohos. Idem in Orat. 33.
Nescit religio nostra personas accipere, nee conditioner hominum sed animos
inspicit singulorum ; senmm et nob'dem de moribus pronunciat. Sola apud
Deum libertas est non servire peccatis : summa apud Deum est nobilitas clarum
esse virtutibus. HlERONTMUS AD CeI.ANTIAM EfIST. 14.

* Divina imagiiiis

THE
EXCELLENCY AND NOBLENESS
OF
TRUE RELIGION.

The way of life is above to the wise, that he may depart from hetl beneath.
Prov. xv. 24.

INTRODUCTION.

AN this whole book of the Proverbs we find Solo
mon, one of the eldest sons of wisdom, always
standing up and calling her blessed : his heart
was both enlarged and filled with the pure influ
ences of her beams, and therefore was perpe
tuaUy adoring that sun which gave him light.
" Wisdom is justified of aU her children ;* though
the brats of darkness and chUdren of folly see
no beauty nor comeHness in her, that they should
desire her, as they said of Christ.t Tig auneig
ykvoiro rdig p) \<pwaro\jkvoig ; that mind which is not
touched with an inward sense of divine wisdom,
cannot estimate the true worth of it. But when
wisdom once displays its own exceUericies and
glories in a purified soul, it is entertained there
with the greatest love and delight, and receives
• Luke vii. 35. f rsa' ''"• -¦

406 THE EXCELLENCY AND
its own image reflected back to itself in sweetest
returns of love and praise. We have a clear
manifestation of this sacred sympathy in Solo
mon, whom we may not unfitly caU sapientia? or
ganum, an instrument which wisdom herself had
tuned to play her divine lessons upon: his words
were * Y§0 "nil every where full of divine sweet
ness matched with strength and beauty, no'kuv vow
exfiprtg hlor or, as himself phraseth it, " like ap
ples of gold in pictures of sUver."t The mind of
a proverb is to utter wisdom in a mystery, as
the apostle sometimes speaks, and to wrap up
divine truth in a kind of enigmatical way, though
in vulgar expressions. Which method of deliver
ing divine doctrine (not to mention the writings of
the ancient philosophers) we find frequently pur
sued in the holy Scripture, thereby both opening
and hiding at once the truth which is offered to us.
A proverb or parable being once' unfolded, by rea
son of its affinity with the fancy, the more sweetly
insinuates itself into that, and is from thence, with
the greater advantage, transmitted to the under
standing. In this state we are not able to behold
truth in its own native beauty and lustre ; but
whUe we are vaHed with mortafity, truth must vaU
itself too, that it may the more freely converse with
us. St. Austin hath weU assigned the reason why
we are so much dehghted with metaphors, allego
ries, &c. because they are so much proportioned to
our senses, with which our reason hath contracted
an intimacy and famUiarity. And therefore God
to accommodate his truth to our weak capacities,
* Eccles. xii. 10. \ Prov. xxv. U.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 407
does as it were embody it in earthly expressions ;
according to that ancient maxim of the Cabalists,
Lumen supernum nunquam descendit sine indumento ;
agreeable to which is that of Dionysius Areop. not
seldom quoted by the schoolmen, Impossibile est
nobis aliter lucere radium divinum, nisi varietate sa-
crorum velaminum circumvelatum. His words in the
Greek are these, ouft\ ouvarov Wigwg yi\mv Iviku^ai
rnv ^iugfaixriv kwriva, (/oj rrf voixikia rwv h^uv iruqaxi-
ruapuruv kvaywytKobg •xi^iKaca'ku^ivriv*
Thus much by way of preface or introduction to
these words, being one of Solomon's excellent pro
verbs, viz. " The way of life is above to the wise."
Without any mincing or mangling of the words, or
running out into any critical curiosities about them,
I shall from these words take occasion to set forth
the nobleness and generous spirit of true religion,
which I suppose to be meant here by " the way of
Ufe." The word n^yn1? here rendered above, may
signify that which is divine and heavenly, high and
excellent, as the word «W does in the New Testa
ment, rqg ctvu aTJiciag, Phil. iii. 14. ra, avw (pgovtirs,
Col. iii. 2. St. Austin supposeth the things of reli
gion to be meant by the roi ava, superna, for this
reason, quod merito excellentia? longe superant res
terrenas. And in this sense I shall consider it, my
purpose being from hence to discourse of the ex
cellent and noble spirit of true religion, whether it
be taken in abstracto, as it is in itself ; or in concreto,
as it becomes an inward form and soul to the minds
and spirits of good men ; and this in opposition to
that low and base-born spirit of irreligion, which is
* In Lib. De Ccelest. Hierar. cap. I.

408 THE EXCELLENCY AND
perpetuaUy sinking from God, till it couches to the
very centre of misery, niSD "71 N# ' the lowermost
hell.' In discoursing upon this argument, I shaU ob
serve this method ; viz. I shall consider the excel
lency and nobleness of true reHgion,
1. In its rise and original.
2. In its nature and essence.
3. In its properties and operations.
4. In its progress.
5. In its term and end.

CHAP. I.

1. The nobleness qf religion in regard of its original and foun
tain : it comes from heaven and moves towards heaven again.
God the first excellency and primitive perfection. AU perfections
and excellencies in any kind are to be measured by their approach
to, and participation qf, the first perfection. Religion the
greatest participation qf God : none capable qf this divine com
munication but the highest qf created beings : and consequently
, religion is the greatest exceUency. A two-fold fountain in God
whence religion flows, viz. 1. His nature. 2. His will. Of
truth, natural and revealed. Of an outward and inward reve
lation of God's will.
W E begin with the frst, viz. True religion is a
noble thing inffsjis^mj^c^riginal, and in regard qf
its descent. True religion derives its pedigree from
heaven, is j3Xao-T^a rou ougKvou- it comes from heaven,
and constantly moves toward heaven again : it is a
beam from God, as " every good and perfect gift
is from above, and comes down from the Father of

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION v 409
lights, with whom is no variableness nor shadow of
turning,"* as St. James speaks. God is the first
truth and primitive goodness : true religion is a
vigorous efflux and emanation of both upon the
spirits of men, and therefore is called " a j^rticipa-
tion of the divine nature."! Indeed God hath
copied out himself in all created being, having no
offier pattern to frame any thing by But "his own
essencej so that all created being is umbratilis
similitudo entis increati, and is, by some stamp or
other of God upon it, at least remotely allied to
him : but true religion is such a communication of
the Divinity, as~norie~ but the highest of created
beings are capable~of. On the other side, sin and
wick~edness Is of the basest and lowest original, as
being nothing else but a perfect degeneration from
God and those eternal rules of goodness which are
derived from him. Religion^is a heaven-born
tiiHigj_the^seed of God in the spirits of men, where-
by_they_arelformed to a similitude and likeness of
himself. A true Christian is every way of a most
noble extraction, of a heavenly and divine pedigree,
being born avuSav " from above,"t as St. John ex
presseth it. The line of all earthly nobUity, if it
were followed to the beginning, would lead to
Adarh, where all the lines of descent meet in one ;
and the root of all extractions would be found
planted in nothing else but Adamah, red earth :||
but a Christian derives his line from Christ, who is
the only-begotten Son^f Godj " the shining forth
of higLglory, and the character of his person,"
as he is styled, Heb. i. 3. We may truly say of
Christ and Christians, as Zebah and Zalmunna said
* James i. 17. f 2 Pet< '• 4- \ John ">• 3L H Gen- "• 7-
3 F

410 . THE EXCELLENCY AND
of Gideon's brethren, " As he is, so are they (ac
cording to their capacity,) each one resembling the
chUdren of a king."* Titles of worldly honour
in heaven's heraldry are but only tituli nominates ;
but titles of divine dignity signify some real thing,
some real and divine communications to the spirits
and minds of men. All perfections and excellen
cies in any kind are to be measured by their ap
proach to that primitive perfection of all, God him
self; and therefore participationof the divine nature
cannot but entitle a Christian to the highest degree
of dignity : " Behold what manner of love the
Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be
called the sons of God."t
Thus much for a more general discovery of the
nobleness of religion as to its fountain and original :
we may further and more particularly take notice
of this in reference to that twofold fountain in God,
from whence all true religion flows and issues forth,
viz. 1. His immutable nature. 2. His. will.
1. The immutable nature qf God. From thence
arise all those eternal rules of truth and goodness
which are the foundation of all religion, and which
God at the first creation folded up in the soul of
man. These we may call the truths of natural in
scription ; understanding hereby either thosTTuri-
damental principles of truth which reason by a
naked intuition may behold in God, or those ne
cessary corollaries and deductions that may be
drawn from thence. I cannot think it so proper to
say, that God ought infinitely to be loved because
he commands it, as because he is indeed an infinite
and unchangeable goodness. God_hath stamped a
• Judges viii. 18. f 1 John iii. 1.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 411
copy of his own archetypal loveliness upon the
soul, that man by reflecting into himself might be
hold there the glory of God, intra se videre Deum,
see within his soul all those ideas of truth which
concern the nature and essence of God, by rea
son of its own resemblance of God ; and so beget
within himself the most free and generous motions
of love to God. Reason in man being lumen de
lumine, a light flowing from the fountain and Father
of lights, and being, as TuUy phraseth it, participa-
ta similitudo rationis aiterna? (as the law of nature,
the ko^o? ygavrog, the law written in man's heart, is
participatio legis xiernw in rationali creatura) it was
to enable man to work out of himself aU those no
tions of God which are the true groundwork of
love and obedience to God, and conformity to him :
and in moulding the inward man into the greatest
conformity to the nature of God was the perfection
and efficacy of the religion of nature. But since
man's fall from God, tbe inward virtue and vigour
of reason is much abated, the soul having suffered
a vrsgoppOwig, as Plato speaks, a defluvium pennarum :
those principles of divine truth which were first
engraven upon man's heart with the finger of God,
are now, as the characters of some ancient monu
ments, less clear and legible than at first. And
therefore, besides the truth of natural inscription, /
2. God hath provided tbe truth of divine reve
lation, which issues forth from hisTowif free will,
and clearly discovers the way of our return to God,
from whom we are fallen. And this truth, with
the effects and productions of it in the minds of
men, the Scripture is wont to set forth under the
name of j^race? as proceeding merely from the free

412 THE EXCELLENCY AND
bounty and overflowings of the divine love. Of
this revealed will is that of the apostle to be under
stood, ra rou ©sou obhig oifcv, " None hath known
the things of God ;"* outeg, none, neither angel nor
man, could know the mind of God, could unlock the
breast of God, or search out the counsels of his
will. But God, out -of the infinite riches of his
compassions toward mankind, is pleased to unbosom
his secrets, and most clearly to manifest " the way
into the holiest of all,"t and " bring to light life
and immortality,"! and in these last ages to send his
Son, who lay in his bosom from all eternity, to
teach us his will, and declare his mind to us,
When we " look unto the earth, then behold dark
ness and dimness of anguish," || that I may use
those words of the prophet Isaiah. But when
we look towards heaven, then behold light break
ing forth upon us, like the eyelids of the morning,
¦; and spreading its wings over the horizon of man-
1 kind sitting in darkness and the shadow of death,
\ " to guide our feet into the way of peace." §
But besides this outward revelation of God's will
to men, there is also an inward iinpression_of it on
their minds and spirits, which is in a more special
manner attributed to God. We cannot see divine
things but in a divine light : God^onTyTwho is the
true light, and in whom there is no darkness at all,
can so shine out of himself upon our glassy under
standings, as to beget in them a picture of himself,
his own will and pleasure, and turn the soul, as the
phrase is in Job xxxviii. 14. DJlin "lOrD like wax
or " clay to the seal" of his own light and love.
* 1 Cor. ii. 11. f Heb. ix. 5. f 2 Tim. i. 10.
|| Isa. viii. 22. § Luke i. 79.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 413
Hejhat made our souls in his own image and like- j J
ness, can easily find a way into them. The word \ !
tHatGod speaks, having found a way into the soul,
imprints itself there as with the point of a diamond,
and becomes "koyog \yyiyga\h\hivog \v rri rou i^a,v^ta,vov-
rog -^vyy, that 1 may borrow Plato's expression.
Men may__teacli_ the grammar and rhetoric, but II
God teaches the divinity. Thus it is God alone ' '
that acquaints the soul with the truths of revela
tion : and he it is also that does strengthen and
raise the soul to better apprehensions even of natu
ral truth : ' God being that in the intellectual world '
which the sun is in the .sensible,' (oVsg h rotg uh^rdie
6 ijXtog, rouro h roig voqroTg - 6 &iog) as some of the
ancient fathers love to speak, and the ancient
philosophers too, who meant God by their intel
lectus agens, whose proper work they supposed to
be not so much to enlighten the object, as the fa
culty.

CHAP. II.

2. The nobleness qf religion in respect of its nature, briefly dis
covered in some particulars. How a man actuated by religion,
1. Lives above the world; 2. Converses with himself, and knows
how to love, value, and reverence himself, in the best sense ; 3.
Lives above himself, not being content to enjoy himself, except
he may enjoy God too, and himself in God. How he denies
himself for God. To deny a man's self, is not to deny right
reason, for that were to deny God, instead qf denying himself
for God. Self-love the only principle that acts wicked men.
The happy privileges of a soul united to God.
2. W E have done with the first head, and come
now to discourse with the like brevity on another,

414 THE EXCELLENCY OF
(our purpose being to insist most upon the third
particular, viz. The nobleness qf religion in its pro
perties, after we have handled the second) which is
Tke excellency and nobleness qf religion in regard of
its nature, whether it be taken in abstracto or in
concreto ; which we shall treat promiscuously, with
out any rigid tying of ourselves to exact rules of
art : and so we shall glance at it in these foUowing
notions, rising as it were step by step.
1. A good man, that is actuated by religion, lives
above the world and all mundane delights and excel
lencies. The soul is a more vigorous and puissant
thing, when it is once restored to the possession of
its own being, than to be bounded within the nar
row sphere of mortality, or to be straightened with
in the narrow prison of sensual and corporeal de
lights ; but it will break forth with the greatest ve
hemency, and ascend upwards towards immortality :
and when it converses more intimately with reli
gion, it can scarce look back upon its own con
verses, though in a lawful way, with earthly things,
without being touched with a holy shamefaced-
ness and a modest blushing; and, as Porphyry
speaks of Plotinus, laxsi [th ala^vo^vw ort h dupuri
iir\, ' it seems to be ashamed that it should be in the
body.' It is true religion only that teaches and
enables men to die to this world and to all earthly
things, and to rise above that vaporous sphere of sen
sual and earthly pleasures, which darken the mind
and hinder it from enjoying the brightness of divine
light ; the proper motion of religion is still upwards
to its first original. Whereas, on the contrary, the
souls of wicked men uxofiguxioti auuiTe^i<p'i^ovrat, as
Plato somewhere speaks, 'being moistened with

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 415
the exudations of their sensual parts, become heavy
and sink down into earthly things, and couch as
near as may be to the centre. Wicked men bury j
their souls in their bodies : all their projects and
designs are bounded within the compass of this
earth which they tread upon. The fleshly mind
regards nothing but flesh, and never rises above the
outward matter, but always creeps up and down
like shadows upon the surface of the earth : and if
it begins at any time to make any faint essays up
wards, it presently finds itself laden with a weight
of sensuality which draws it down again. It was
the opinion of the Academics that the souls of
wicked men after their death could not of a long
season depart from the graves and sepulchres where
their mates were buried ; but there wandered up
and down in a desolate manner, as not being able
to leave those bodies to which they were so much
wedded in this Hfe.
2. A good man, one that is actuated by religion,
lives in converse with his own reason ; he lives at the
height of his own being. This a great philosopher
makestheproperty of a good man, povog 6 rnv ags-
rriv vxpv laura svyyivio&at hvvarai, zai ar'igyuv laurov
' He knows how to converse with himself, and tru
ly to love and value himself:' he measures not him
self, like the epicure, by his inferior and earthly
part, but by an immortal essence and that of him
which is from above ; and so does It) rm iv murm \
a%xf\v kvafiuiniv,. ' climb up to the height of that im
mortal principle which is within him.' The Stoics '
thought no man a fit auditor of their ethics, tUl he
were dispossessed of that opinion, that man was
nothing but avfMfkozrj 4<u#7S za) aupxroc, as profess-

416 THE EXCELLENCEY AND
ing to teach men how to live only xara "koyov, as
they speak. Perhaps their divinity was in some
things too rigid ; but I am sure a good man acts
the best of this their doctrine in the best sense, and
knows better how to reverence himself, without
any self-flattery or admiration, than ever any Stoic
did. He principally looks upon himself as being
what he is rather by his soul than by his body :* he
values himself by his soul, that being which hath
the greatest affinity with God ; and so does not
seek himself in the fading vanities of this life, nor
in those poor and low delights of his senses, as
wicked men do ; but as the philosopher doth well
express it, oar\ ouvapig (peuysiv owro rou au[/Mrog fioukirut,
za) a<?ro ruv su^arizuv -ttolSZv dg laurov avvviuuv and
when the soul thus retires into itself, and views its
own worth and excellency, it presently finds a
chaste and virgin love stirred up within itself to
wards itself, and is from within the more excited
and obliged ug rrjv, (pukuzjjv rou olztiou a%t&>[/,arog, as
Simplicius speaks, to mind the preserving of its
own dignity and glory.' To conclude this parti
cular, a good man endeavours to walk by eternal
and unchangeable rules of reason ; reason in a good
man sits in the throne, and governs all the powers
of his soul in a sweet harmony and agreement with
itself: whereas wicked men live only tyrjv oo%a<rn-
zr\v, being led up and down by the foolish fires of
their own sensual apprehensions. In wicked men
there is a democracy of wild lusts and passions,
which violently hurry the soul up and down with
restless motions. All sin and wickedness is araeig
* xa.To\ 1-w Xoyixiin %um ouciwftins, Simplic. in Epict.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 417
xa) ufigig rrig "4/0%??, ' a sedition stirred up in the soul
by the sensitive powers against reason.' It was
one of the great evils that Solomon saw under the
sun, " Servants on horseback, and princes going as
servants upon the ground."* We may find the
moral of it in all wicked men, whose souls are
only as servants to wait upon their senses. In all
such men the whole course of nature is turned up
side down, and the cardinal points of motion in this
little world are changed to contrary positions : but
the motions of a good man are methodical, regular,
and concentrical to reason. Itjs a fond imagina
tion that religion should extinguish reason ; where-
aTreTigiorT makes if more illustrious and vigorous;
arid they that live most in the exercise of reHgion,
shall find their reason most enlarged. I might add,
that reason in relation, to the capacitating of man
for converse with God, was thought by some to be
the formal difference of man. Plutarch, after a
large debate whether brutes had not reason in them
as weU as man, concludes it negatively upon this
ground, ' because they had no knowledge and sense
of the Deity,' oig oux lyyiverai Qsou v'oriaig. In Tully's
account this capableness of religion seemed to be
nothing different from rationality, and therefore he
doubts not to give this for the most proper charac-
terism of reason, that it is vinculum Dei et hominis.
And so with theni (not to name others of the same
apprehensions) animal rationale and animal capax
religionis seemed to be of the like importance ; rea
son, as enabling and fitting man to converse with
God by knowing him and loving him, being a cha-
* Eccles. x. 7.
3G

418 THE EXCELLENCY AND
raeter most unquestionably differencing man from
brute creatures.
3. A good man, one that is informed by true. reli
gion, lives dbove himself, and is raised to an intimate
converse with the Divinity. He moves in a larger
sphere than his own being, and cannot be content
to enjoy himself* except he may enjoy God ajso,
and himself in GjmL.
This we shaU consider two ways.
1. In the self-denial of good men ; they are con
tent and ready to deny themselves for God. 1 mean
\ not that they should deny their own reason, as some
• would have it ; for that Were to deny a beam of dU
vine light, arid so to deny God, instead of denying
| ourselves for him. It is better resolved by some
philosophers in this point* that evreoSai \byu ' to fol
low reason' is eW9-«; @etf ' to follow God ;' and
again, Aoya Se h$u vsi&eaftai xa) QsS, raur'ov ean.
But by self-denial I mean, the soul's quitting all its
own interest in itself, and an entire resignation of
itself to him as to all points of service and duty :
[and thus the soul loves itself in God, arid lives in
(the possession not so much of its own being as of
jthe Divinity ; desiring only to be great in God, to
j glory in his light, and spread itself in his- fulness ;
jto be filled always by him, and to empty itself again
into him ; to receive aU from him, and to expend
all for him ; and so to live not as its own, but as
[God's. The highest ambition of a good man is to
serve the will of God : he takes no pleasure in him
self, nor in any thing within himself, further than he
sees a stamp of God upon it. Whereas wicked
men are imprisoned within the narrow circumfe
rence of their own beings, and perpetually frozen

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 419
into a cold self-love which binds up aU the innate
vigour of their souls, that it cannot break forth or
express itself in any noble way. The soul in which
religion rules, says, as St. Paul did, " I Hve ; and
yet not I, but Christ liveth in me."* On the con
trary, a wicked man sweUs in his own thoughts,
and pleaseth himself more or less with the imaghif
ation of a self-sufficiency. The Stoics, seeing they
could not raise themselves up to God, endeavoured
to bring down God to their own model, imagining
the Deity to be nothing else but some greater kind
of animal, and a wise man to be almost one of his
peers.! And this is more or less the genius of
wicked men, they will be something in themselves,
they wrap up themselves in their own being, move
up and down in a sphere of self-love, live a pro
fessed independency upon God, and maintain a
meum et tuum between God and themselves. It is
the character only of a good man to be able to deny
and disown himseU, and to make a full surrender
of himself unto God ; forgetting himself, and mind
ing nothing but the wHl of his Creator ; triumphing
in nothing more than in Ins^own nothingness, and
in the allness of the Divinity. But indeed this,
his being nothing, is the only way to be all things ;
tiii^^ij havjng_ nothing, the truest way of possess
ing all things.
2, As a good man lives above himself in a way
of self-xJeniaL so he lives also above himseU" as he
lives in the enjoyment of God : and this is the very
soul and essence of true religion, to unite the soul
* Gal. ii. 20.
f Sapiens cum Diis ex pari vivit, Deorum socius, non supplex, Sen. in Ep.
S2et31.

420 THE EXCELLENCY AND
in the nearest intimacy and conjunction with God,
who is mjytj Zptjg, vqyri vou, p/£a iptrxfis, as Plotinus
speaks. Then indeed the soul lives most nobly,
when it feels itself to " live and move and have its
being in God ;"* which though the law of nature
makes the common condition of all created being,
yet it is only true religion that can give us a more
feeling and comfortable sense of it. God is not
present to wicked men, when his almighty essence
supports them and maintains them in being ; oKk'
'ian ru oumpevw "hiyeiv 5ragoV,t ' but he is present to
him that can touch him,' hath an inward feeling
knowledge of God, and is intimately united to him ;
ru oe ahuvarouvri ou mxgeari, ' but to him that cannot
thus touch him he is not present.'
Religion is life and spirit, which flowing out from
God who is that AuroZaiq that hath life in himself,
returns to him again as into its own original, carry
ing the souls of good men up with it. The spirit of
religion is always ascending upwards, and spreading
itself through the whole essence of the soul, loosens
it from a self-confinement and narrowness, and so
renders it more capacious of divine enjoyment.
God envies not his people any good, but being in
finitely bountiful is pleased to impart himself to
them in this life, so far as they are capable of his
communications : they stay not for all their happi
ness till they come to heaven. Religion always
carries its reward along with it, and when it acts
most vigorously upon the mind arid spirit of man,
it then most of all fills it with an inward sense of
divine sweetness. To conclude, to walk with God,
* Acts xvii. 28. f Plotin. in En. VI. lib. ix. cap. vii.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 421
is in Scripture made the character of a good man,
and itis the highest perfection and privilege of cre
ated nature to converse with the Divinity. Whereas
on the contrary, wicked men converse with nothing
but their lusts and the vanities of this fading life,
which here flatter them for a while with unhallowed
delights, and a mere shadow of contentment ; and
when these are gone, they find both substance and
shadow to be lost eternally. But true goodness
brings in a constant revenue of solid and substantial
satisfaction to the spirit of a good man, delighting
always to sit by those eternal springs that feed and
maintain it : the spirit of a good man, as it is well
expressed by the philosopher, azmrug htyurai b rtj
obsia rqg ^nlag aya'St'ornrog, arid is always drinking in
fountain-goodness, and fills itself more and more,
tiU it is filled with aU the fulness of God.

422 THE EXCELLENCY AND

CHAP. III.
3. The nobleness qf religion in regard of its properties, fyc. of
which this is one, 1. Religion enlarges all the faculties qf the
soul, and begets a true ingenuity, liberty, and amplitude, the
most free and generous spirit in the minds of good men. The
nearer any being comes to God, the more large and free ; the
further it slides from God, the more straitened. Sin is the
sinking of man's soul from God into sensual selfishness. An
account when tke most generous freedom ofthe soul is to be taken
in its just proportions. How mechanical and formal Christians
make an art qf religion, set it such bounds as may not exceed
the scant measure qf their principles ; and then ft their own no
tions as so many examples to it. A good man finds not Ms reli
gion without him, but as a living principle within him. God's
immutable and eternal goodness the unchangeable rule qf his
mill. Peevish, self-willed, and imperious men shape out such no
tions qf God as are agreeable to this pattern qf themselves.
The truly religious have better apprehensions qf God.
Al AVING discoursed the nobleness of religion in
its original and nature ; we come now to consider
the excellency of religion in its properties, its pro
per effects and vital operations. In treating of this
third particular we shall, as we have formerly done,
without tying ourselves precisely to any strict rules
of art and method, confound the notions of religion
in abstracto and in concreto together, handling them
promiscuously. As religion is a noble thing, 1. In
respect of its original, 2. In respect of its nature ;
so also 3. In respect of its properties and effects.
1. The first property and effect of true religion
whereby it expresseth its own nobleness is this,
That it widens and enlarges all the faculties ofthe

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 423
soul, and begets a true ingenuity, liberty, and ampli
tude, the most free and generous spirit, in the minds
of good men. Those in whom religion rules are
omn in there is a true generous spirit within them,
Which . shows the nobleness of their extraction.
The Jews have a good maxim to this purpose, p r»
rrnna pwiw '» sssSs pin < None truly noble, but he
that applies himself to religion and a faithful ob
servance of the divine law.'* Tully could see so
much in his natural philosophy as made him say,
Scientia natura; ampliat animum, et ad divina attollit.
But this is most true of religion, that in a higher
sense it does work the soul into a true and divine
amphtude. There is a living soul of religion in
good men which, spreading itself through all their
faculties, spirits all the wheels of motion, and ena
bles them to dilate and extend themselves more ful
ly upon God and all divine things, without being
pinched or straitened within themselves. Whereas
wicked men are of most narrow and confined spirits,
they are so contracted by the pinching particulari
ties of earthly and created things, so imprisoned in
a dark dungeon of sensuality and selfishness, so
straitened through their carnal designs and ends,
that they cannot stretch themselves, nor look be
yond the horizon of time and sense.
The nearer any being comes to God, who is that
infinite fullness that fiUs all in all, the more vast, and
large, and unbounded it is ; as the further it slides
from him, the more it is straitened and confined;
as Plato hath long since concluded concerning the
condition of sensual men, that they live hargiou li-
? Pirke Avoth, cap. 6.

424 THE EXCELLENCY AND
xriv, ' Hke a shellfish,' and can never move up and
down but in their own prison, which they ever car
ry about with them. Were I to define sin, I would
call it The sinking of a man's s^f^^God into a
'sensual selfishness. AU the "freedom that wicked
men have, is but, like that of banished men, to
wander up and down in the wilderness of this world
from one den and cave to another.
The more high and noble any being is, so much
the deeper radication have all its innate virtues and
properties within it, and are by so much the more
universal in their issues and actings upon other
things : and such an inward living principle of vir
tue and activity, further heightened, and united, and
informed with Hght and truth, we may call liberty.
Of this truly noble and divine liberty religion is the
mother and nurse, leading the soul to God, and so
impregnating that inward vital principle of activity
and vigour that is imbosomed in it, that it is able
without any inward disturbance and resistance from
any controlling lusts to exercise itself, and act with
the greatest complacency in the most full and am
ple manner upon that first, universal, and unbound
ed essence which is God himself. The most ge
nerous freedom can never be took in its full and
just dimensions and proportion, but then, when all
the powers of the soul exercise and spend them
selves in the most large and ample manner upon
the infinite and essential goodness, as upon their
own most proper object. If we should ask a good
man, when he finds himself best at ease, when he
finds himself most free ; his answer would be, when
he is under the most powerful constraints of divine
love. There are a sort of mechanical Christians in

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 425
the world, who, not finding religion acting Hke a
living form within them, satisfy themselves only to
make an art of it, and rather inform and actuate it,
than are informed by it ; and setting it such bounds
and limits as may not exceed the short and scant
measures of their own homeborn principles, then
they endeavour to fit the notions of their own
minds as so many examples to it : and it being a
circle of their own making, they can either ampliate
or contract it accordingly as they can force their
own minds and dispositions to agree and suit with
it. But true religion indeed is no art, but an in
ward nature that contains all the laws and measures
of its motion within itself. A good man finds not
his religion without him, but as a living principle
within him; and aU his faculties are still endea
vouring to unite themselves more and more in the
nearest intimacy with it, as with their proper per
fection. There is that amiableness in religion, that
strong sympathy between the soul and it, that it
needs carry no testimonials or commendations along
with it. If it could be supposed that God should
plant a reHgion in the soul that had no affinity or
aUiance with it, it would grow there but as a strange
slip. But God, when he gives his laws to men,
' does not by virtue of his absolute dominion dictate
any thing at random, and in such an arbitrarious
way as some imagine ; but he measures aU by his
own eternal goodness. Had God himself been any
thing else than the first and greatest good of man,
then to have lovedhim with the full strength of all our
faculties should not have been " the first and great
est commandment,"* as our Saviour tells us it is.
Matt. xxii. 38.
5H

426 THE EXCELLENCY AND
Some are apt to look upon God as some peevish.
and self-willed being, because themselves are such :
and seeing that their own absolute and naked wUls
are for the most part the rules of all their actions,
and the impositions which they lay upon others;
they think that heaven's monarchy is such an arbi
trary thing too, as being governed by nothing else
but by an almighty absolute wUl. But the soul
that is most intimately acquainted with the divine
wUl, would more certainly resolve us, that God's
unchangeable goodness (which makes the divinity
a uniform thing and to settle together upon its
own centre, as I may speak with reverence) is also
the unchangeable rule of his will ; neither can he
any more swerve from it, than he can swerve from
himself. Nor does he charge any duty upon man
without consulting first of all with his goodness :
which being the original and adequate object of a
good man's will and affections, it must needs be,
that all the issues and effluxes of it be entertained
with an answerable complacency and cheerfulness.
This is the hinge upon which all true religion turns,
the proper centre about which it moves; which
taking- a fast and sure hold of an innate and corres
pondent principle in the soul of man, rais'eth it up
above the confines of mortality, and in the day of
its mighty power makes it become a free-will offer
ing unto God.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 427

CHAP. IV.
The second properly discovering the nobleness qf religion, viz.
That it restores man lo a just power and dominion over himself,
enables him to overcome his self-mill and passions. Of self-will,
and the many evils that flow from it. That religion does no
where discover its power and prowess so much, as in subduing
this dangerous and potent enemy. The highest and noblest, vic
tories are those over our self-will and passions. Of self-denial,
and the having power over our wills; the happiness and the
privileges qf such a state. How that magnanimity and puis
sance which religion begets in holy souls differs from and excels
that gallantry and puissance which the great Nimrods qf this
world boast qf.
2. X HE second property or effect of religion,
whereby it discovers its own nobleness, and it is
somewhat a-kin to the former particular, and will
help further to illustrate and enforce it, is this, That
it restores a good man to a, just power and dominion
over himself and -his awn will, enables him to overcome
himself, his own self-will and passions, and to com
mand himself and all his powers for God, It is only
religion "that restores that avn%ouatov which the Stoi
cal philosophy so impotently pretended to ; it is
this only that enthrones man's deposed reason, antl
establisheth within him a just empire over all those
blind "powers and passions which so impetuously
rend a man from the possession and enjoyment of
himself. Those turbulent and unruly, uncertain
and unconstant motions of passion and self-will that
dwell in degenerate minds, divide them perpetually
from themselves, and are always moulding several

428 THE EXCELLENCY AND
factions and tumultuous combinations within them
against the dominion "of reason. And the only way
to unite man firmly to himself, is by uniting him to_
God, and establishing in him a firm amity and
agreement with the first and primitive being.
' There is nothing in the world so boisterous as a
man's own self-wUl, which is never guided by any
fixed or steady rules, but is perpetually hurried to
and fro by a blind impetus of pride and passions
issuing from within itself. This is the true source
and spring of all that envy, malice, bitterness of
spirit, malecontentedness and impatiency, of all
those black and dark passions, those inordinate de
sires and lusts, that reign in the hearts and lives of
wicked men. A man's own self-will throws him
out of all true enjoyment of his own being : there
fore it was our Saviour's counsel to his disciples,
" In^patience possess your souls."* We may say
of that self-will which is lodged in the heart of a
wicked man, as the Jews speak of the inn -W fig.
mentum malum so often mentioned in their writings,
that it is ninn *w the prince of death and darkness
which is at continual enmity with heaven, and
wran trenit the filthiness and poison of the serpent.
This is the seed of the evil spirit which is perpe
tually at enmity with the seed of God and the
heaven-born nature : its design and scope is, with
a giant-like pride, to climb up into the throne of
the Almighty, and to establish an unbounded ty
ranny in contradiction to the will of God, which is
nothing else but the issue and efflux of his eternal
and unbounded goodness. This is the very heart
* Luke xxi. 1 9.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 429
of the old Adam that is within men. This is the hell
ish spirit of self-will : it would solely prescribe laws
to all things ; it would fain be the source and foun
tain of all affairs and events ; it would judge all
things at its own tribunal. They in whose spirits
this principle rules, would have their own fancies
and opinions, their perverse and boisterous wills to
bp the just square and measure of all good and
evil; these are the plumb-lines they apply to all
things to find out their rectitude or obliquity. He
that will not submit himself to, nor comply with,
the eternal and uncreated wUl, but, instead of it
endeavours to set up his own will, makes himself
the most real idol in the world, and exalts him
self against all that is called God, and ought to
be worshipped. To worship a graven image, or to
make cakes and burn incense to the queen of hea
ven, is not a worse idolatry than it is for a man to
set up self-wUl, to devote himself to the serving of
it, and to give up himseU" to a compliance with his
own will as contrary to the divine and eternal will.
When God made the world, he did not make it <
merely for the exercise of his almighty power, and
ttent^hrow it out of his hands, and leave it alone
to subsist by itself as a thing that had no further
relation to him : Iiuf he derived himself through
tHewho]fe_ creation, ""so gathering and knitting up
all the several pieces of it again ; that as the first
production and continued subsistence ofvill things
h^fronfjnjmselfj so the ultimate resolution and
tendency of all things might be to him. Now that
which first endeavoured a divorce between God
and his creation, and to make a conquest of it, was
that diabolical arrogancy and self-wUl that crept up

430 THE EXCELLENCY- AND
and wound itself serpent-like into apostate minds
and spirits. This is the true strain of that hellish
nature, to liyejndependently^of God, and to derive
the principles from another beginning, and carry
on the line of all motions and operations to another
end, than God himself, by whom, and to whom,
and for whom, aU things subsist.
From what hath been said concerning this power
ful and dangerous enemy that wars against our
souls and against the divine will, may the excellen
cy and noble spirit of true religion appear, in that
it tames the impetuousness and turbulency of this
self-wiU. Then indeed does religion perform the
highest and bravest conquests, then does it display
the greatness of its strength and the- excellency of
its power, when it overcomes this great Arimanius,
that hath so firmly seated himself in the very cen
tre of the soul. *""3J '» ' Who is the man of cou
rage and valour ?' nsf i-ik aoon < It is he that sub
dues his concupiscence,' his own will ; it is a Jew
ish maxim attributed to Ben Zoma, and a most un
doubted truth. This was the grand lesson that our.
great Lord and Master came to teach us, viz. To
deny our own wills ; neither was there any thing
that he endeavoured more to promote by his own
example, as he tells us of himself, " I came down
from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will
of him that sent me ;"t and again " Lo, I come (in
the volume of the book it is written of me) to do
thy wfll, O God, yea thy law is within my heart :"t
and in his greatest agonies, with a clear and cheer
ful submission to the divine will, he often repeats
* Pirke Avoth, cap. 4. f John. vi. 38. \ Psal. xl. 7, 8. Heb. X. 7.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 431
it, " Not my will, but thy will be done :"* and so
he hath taught us to pray and so to live. This in
deed is the true life and spirit of religion ; this is
yteligion in its meridian altitude, its just dimensions.
' A true Christian that hath power over his own will,
v may live nobly and happily, and enjoy a clear hea
ven within the serenity of Jrisjjwn mind perpetual-
Iy?~~when the sea of this world is most rough and
tempestuous about him, then can he ride safely at
anchor within the haven, by a_s^etxomjpHance_of
his wUl with God's will. He can look about him,
and with an even and indifferent mind behold the
world either to smUe or frown upon him ; neither
will he abate of the least of his contentment, for
aU the UI and unkind usage he meets withal in this
life. He that hath got the mastery over his own
will, feels no violence from without, finds no con
tests within ; and like a strong man, keeping his
house, he preserves all his goods in safety: and
when God calls for him out of this state of mortal
ity, he finds in himself a power to lay down his
own life ; neither is it so much taken from him, as
quietly and freely surrendered up by him. This is
the highest piece of prowess, the noblest achieve
ment, by which a man becomes lord over Himself,
and the master of his own thoughts, motions, and
purposes. This is the royal prerogative, the high
dignity conferred upon good men by our Lord and
Saviour, whereby they overcoming this both his
and their enemy, their self-will and passions, are
enabled to sit down with him in his throne, as he
overcoming in another way, " is set down with his
* Luke xxii. 42. Mark xiv. 36.
4

432 THE EXCELLENCY AND
Father in his throne ;" as the phrase is, Rev.
iii. 21.
Religion begets the most heroic, free, and gener
ous motions in the minds of good men. There is
no where so much of a truly magnanimous and
raised spirit as in those who are best acquainted
with the power of reHgion. Other men are slaves
and captives to one vanity or other : but the truly
religious is above them all, and able to command
himself and all his powers for God. That bravery
and gaUantness which seems to be in the great
Nimrods of this world is nothing else but the sweU-
ing of their own unbounded pride and vain-glory.
It hath been observed of the greatest monarchs of
the world, that in the midst of their triumphs they
themselves have been led captives to one vice or
another. AU the gallantry and puissance of which
the bravest spirits of the world boast, is but a poor
confined thing, and extends itself only to some par
ticular cases and circumstances : but the valour and
puissance of a soul impregnated by religion hath in
a sort a universal extent, as St. Paul speaks of him
self, " I can do all things through Christ which
strength eneth me ;"* it is not determined to this
or that particular object, or time, or place, but ncavra
all things whatsoever belong to a creature fall under
the level thereof. Religion is by St. Paul described
to be wveupa Suvapeotg ' the spirit of power' in oppo
sition to the spirit of fear,t as all sin is by Simpli
cius well described to be ahvapia ' impotency and
weakness.' Sin, by its deadly infusions into the
soul of man, wastes and eats out the innate vigour
* Phil. 'iv. 13. f 2 Tim. i. 7.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 433
of the soul, and casts it into such a deep lethargy, as
that it is not able to recover itself: but religion, like
that balsamum vita?, being once conveyed into the
soul, awakens and enlivens it, and makes it renew
its strength like an eagle, and mount strongly up
wards towards heaven ; and so uniting the soul to
God, the centre of life and strength, it renders it
undaunted and invincible. Who can tell the in-
ward^ife and vigour that the soul may be filled with,
when once it is in conjunction With an almighty es
sence? There is a latent and hidden virtue in the
soul of man which then begins to discover itself
when the divine Spirit spreads forth its influences
upon it. Every thing the more spiritual it is, and
the higher and nobler it is in its being, the more
active and vigorous it is ; as the more any' thing
faUs and sinks into matter, the more dull and slug
gish and unwieldy it is. The Platonists were wont
to call all things that participated most of matter
ovrtug pq ovra' Now nothing doth more purify, more
sublimate and exalt the soul than religion, when
the soul suffers God to sit within it " as a refiner
and purifier of silver," and when it " abides the
day of his coming ; for he is like a refiner's fire,
and like fuller's soap."* Thus the soul being pu
rified and spiritualized, and changed more and more
into the glorious image of God, is able to do all
things, " out of weakness is made strong," gives
proof of its divine vigour and activity, and shows
itself to be a noble and puissant spirit, such as God
did at first create it. * Mai. iii. 2, 3.
3 I

434 THE EXCELLENCY AND

CHAP. V.

The third property or effect, discovering the nobleness of religion,
viz. That it directs and enables a man to propound to himself
the best end, viz. The glory qf God, and his own becoming like
unto God. Low and particular ends and interests both debase
and straiten a man's spirit : the universal, highest, and last end
both ennobles andenlarges. it. A man is such as the end is he aims
at. Tlie great power the end hath to mould and fashion man
into its likeness. Religion obliges a man, not to seek himself,
nor to drive a trade for himself ; but to, seek the glory qf God,
to live whoUy to him ; and guides him steadily and uniformly to
the one chief good and last end. Men are prone toflatterthem-
selves with a pretended aiming at the glory of God. A more
full and. distinct explication of what is meant by a man's direct
ing all his actions to the glory qf God. What it is truly and
really to glorify God. God's seeking his glory in respect of us
is the flowing forth of his goodness upon us : our seeking the
glory of God is our endeavouring to partake more of God,
and to resemble him, as much as we can, in true holiness and
every divine virtue. That we are not nicely, to distinguish be
tween the glory of Gad, and our own salvation. That salvation
is nothing else for the main, but a true participation qf the divine
nature. To love God above ourselves, is not to love, him above
the salvation qf our souls ; but above our particular beings and
above our sinful affections, Sec. The difference between things
that a,re goo4 relatively, and those that are good, absolutely and
essentially: that in our conformity , to these, God<is most glori
fied, and we are made most.happy.
3. X HE third property or effect whereby religion
discovers its own excellency, is this, That it directs
and enables a man to propound to himself the- bested
and scope of life, viz. The glory qf God the highest
Being, and his own assimilation or becoming like unto
God.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELTGION 435
That Christian in whom religion rules powerfully,
is not so low in his ambitions as to pursue any of
the things of this world as his ultimate end : his
soul Is too big for earthly designs and interests ;
but understanding .. himself to _come.from God, ..he
is continually returning to him again. It is not
worthy of the mind of man to pursue any perfec
tion lower than its own, or to aim at any end more
ignoble than itself. There is nothing that rriore
straitens and confines the freeborn soul than the
particularity, indigency, and penury of that end
which it pursues : when it complies most of all
witfrthis lower world, rare [Ji,xki<rra ro aun^outfiov ap-
(pio&rirYiGiihov 'ifa, as is Well observed by an excellerit
philosopher, ' the true nobleness and freedom of it
is then most diputable,' and the title it holds to
true liberty becomes most litigious. It never more
sHdes and degenerates from itself, than when it be
comes enthraUed to some particular interest : as on
the other side it never acts more freely or fully,
than when it extends itself upon the most universal
end. Every thitig is so much the more noble, quo
longiores habet fines, as was well observed by Tully.
As low ends debase a man's spirit, supplant and
rob it of its birthright ; so the highest and last
end raises and ennobles it, and enlarges it irifo a
more universal and comprehensive capacity of en
joying that one unbourided goodness, which is God
himself: it makes it spread arid dilate itself in the
infinite sphere of the Divine Being arid blessedness,
it makes it live in the fulness of him that fills
all in all.
Every thing is most properly such as the end is
which is aimed at : the mind of man is always shap-

436 THE EXCELLENCEY AND
ing itself into a conformity, as much as may be, to
that which is his end ; and the nearer it draws to
it in the achievement thereof, the greater likeness it
bears to it. There is a plastic virtue, a secret en
ergy issuing forth from that which the mind pro
pounds to itself as its end, to mould and fashion it
according to its own model. The soul is always
stamped with the same characters that are engraven
upon the end it aims at ; and while it converses
with it, and sets itself before it, " it is turned as
wax to the seal,"* to use that phrase in Job. Man's
soul conceives all its thoughts and imaginations be
fore his end, as Laban's ewes did their young be
fore the rods in the watering-troughs.t He that
pursues any worldly interest or earthly thing as his
end, becomes himself also yeaoqg ' earthly :' and the
more the soul directs itself to God, the more it be
comes ^eoe;S^? ' godlike,' deriving a print of that
glory and beauty upori itself which it converseth
with, as it is exceUently set forth by the apostle,
" But we all with open face, beholding as in a glass
the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same
image, from glory to glory "X That spirit of am
bition and popularity that so violently transports
the minds of men into a pursuit of vain-glory, makes
them as vain as that popular air they live upon :
the spirit of this world that draws forth a man's de
signs after worldly interests, makes him as unstable,
unconstant, tumultuous, and perplexed a thing as
the world is. On the contrary, the spirit of true
reHgion, steering and directing the mind and life to
God, makes it a uniform, stable, and quiet thing, as
* Job xxxviii. 14. f Gen. xxx. 38, 39. \ 2 Cor. iii. 18.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 437
God himself is : it is only true goodness in the soul
of man guiding it steadily and uniformly towards
God, directing it and all its actions to the one
last end and chief good, that can give it a true con
sistency and composedness within itself.
All self-seeking and self-love do but imprison the
soul, and confine it to its own home : the mind of
a good man is too noble, too big for such a parti
cular life ; he hath learned to despise his own being
in comparison of that uncreated beauty and good
ness which is so infinitely transcendent to himself
or any created thing ; he reckons upon his choice
and best affections and designs as too choice and
precious a treasure to be spent upon such a poor
sorry thing as himself, or upon any thing else but
God himself.
This was the life of Christ, and is in some de
gree the life of every one that partakes of the Spi
rit of Christ. Such Christians seek not their own '
glory, but the glory of him that sent them into this j
world : they know they were brought forth into
this worldj not to set up or drive a trade for them
selves, but to serve the will and pleasure of him
that made them, and to finish that work he hath
appointed them. It were, not worth the while to
have been born or to live, ftadit been only for such
a penurious end as ourselves are : it is most god
like v and best suits with the spirit of religion, for a
Christian to Hve wholly to God, to live the life of
God, "having his own life hid with Christ in
God;"* and thus in ajscjber^sjmsejije^
fied. This indeed is such a (diaoig ' deification' as
* Col. iii. 3.

438 THE EXCELLENCY AND
is not transacted merely upon the stage of fancy
by arrogance and presumption, but in the highest
powers of the soul by a Hving and quickening
spirit of true religion there uniting God and the
soul together in the unity of affections, will, and
end. I should now pass from this to another particu
lar ; but because many are apt to misapprehend the
notion of God's glory, and flatter themselves with
their pretended and imaginary aiming at the glory
of God, I think it may be of good use, a little fur
ther and more distinctly to unfold the design that
a religious mind pursues in directing itself and all
its actions to God. We are therefore to consider,
that this doth not consist in some transient thoughts
of God and his glory, as the end we propound to
ourselves in any undertakings : a man does not di
rect all his actions to the glory of God by forming
a conception in his mind, or stirring up a strong
imagination upon any action, that that must be for
the glory of God : it is not the thinking of God's
glory that is glorifying of him. As all other parts
of reHgion may be apishly acted over by fancy and
imagination, so also may the internal parts of reli
gion many times be acted over with much seeming
grace by our fancy and passions ; these often love
to be drawing the pictures of religion, and use
their best arts to render them more beautiful and
pleasing. But though true practical religion derives
its force and beauty through all the lower powers
of a man's soul, yet it hath not its rise nor throne
there : as religion consists not in a form of words
which signify nothing, so neither doth it consist in
a set of fancies or internal apprehensions. Our

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 439
Saviour hath best taught what it is to live to God's
glory, or to glorify God, viz. To be fruitful in all
holiness, and to Hve so as that our Hves may shine
with his grace spreading itself through our whole
man.* We rather glorify God by entertaining the im
pressions of his glory upon us, than by communi
cating any kind of glory to him. Then does a
good man become the tabernacle of God wherein
the divine Shechinah does rest, and which the di
vine glory fills, when the frame of his mind and
life is wholly according to that idea and pattern
which he receives from the mount.t We Jjgst
glorify him when we jjrow most like to him: and
we then act most for his glory, when a true spirit
of sanctity, justice, meekness, &c. runs through all
our actions ; when, we so live in the world as be
comes those that converse with the great mind and
wisdom, of the whole world, with that almighty
Spirit that made, supports, and governs aU things,
with that being from whence all good, flows, and in
which there is no spot, stain, or shadow of evil ; and
so being captivated and overcome by the sense of
the divine loveliness and goodness, endeavour to be
like him, and conform, ourselves asmuch as maybe
to him.
When God seeks his own glory, he does not so
much endeavour any thing without himseU! He
did not bring this stately fabric of the universe into
being, that he- might for such a monument of his
mighty power and. beneficence gain some panegy^
rics or applause from a Httle of that fading breath:
* " Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." John xv. 8.
j- As it is said of the material tabernacle, Exod. xxv. 40.

440 THE EXCELLENCY AND
which he had made. Neither was that gracious
contrivance of restoring lapsed men to himself a
plot to get himself some eternal hallelujahs, as if he
had so ardently thirsted after the lays of glorified
spirits, or desired a choir of souls to sing forth his
praises. Neither was it to let the world see how
magnificent he was. No, it is his own internal
glory that he most loves, and the communication
thereof which he seeks : as Plato sometimes speaks
oTthe divine love, it arises not out of indigency, as
created love does, but out of fulness and redundan
cy; it is an overflowing fountain, and that love
which descends upon created being is a free efflux
from the almighty source of love : and it is well
pleasing to him that those creatures which he hath
made should partake of it. Though God cannot
seek his own glory so as if he might acquire any
addition to himself, yet he may seek it so as to
communicate it out of himself. It was a good
maxim of Plato, ru ®eS oudeig ipdovog' which is better
stated by St. James, " God giveth to all men libe
rally, and upbraideth not."* And by that glory of
his, which he loves to impart to his creatures, I un
derstand those stamps and impressions of wisdom,
justice, patience, mercy, love, peace, joy, and other
divine gU'ts which he bestows freely upon the minds
of men. And thus God triumphs in his own glory,
and takes pleasure in the communication of it.
As GoiPs seeking his own glory in respect of us,
is most properly the flowing forth of his goodness
upon us : so our seeking the gloryjrf jG_od is most
properly our endeavouring a participation of his
a , * James i. 5.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 441
goodness, and an earnest incessant pursuing after
divine perfection. When God becomes so great in
our eyes, and all created things so little, that we
reckon upon nothing as worthy of our aims or am- '
bitions but a serious participation of the divine na
ture, and the exercise of divine virtues, love, joy, j
peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, and the
Hke ; when the soul, beholding the infinite beauty j
and loveliness of the Divinity, and then looking,1
down and beholding all created perfection mantled <
over with darkness, is ravished into love and admi- j
ration of that never-setting brightness, and endea- '
vours after the greatest resemblance of God iri jus- ;
tice, love, and goodness; when conversing with;
him Iv wu%u inu<$i, by a secret feeling of the vir
tue, sweetnlessancf power of his goodness, we en- 1
deavour to assimHate ourselves to him : then we \
may be said to glorify him indeed. God seeks no
gforyj2ut_hjj~Qjgn,i_and we have none of our Town
tOigive.him. God in all things seeks himself and
40 !¦¦¦ #•¦¦¦¦¦ ¦!¦¦¦¦'— ™"<'-*IlJ!r
his own glory, as finding nothing better than him
self; and when we love him above all things, and
endeavour to be most Hke him, we declare plainly
that we count nothing better than he is.
I doubt we are too nice logicians sometimes, in
distinguishing between the glory of God and our
own salvation. We cannot, in a true sense, seek
our own salvation more than the glory of God, c
which triumphs most, and discovers itself most ef- «
fectually, in the, salvation of souls ; for indeed Jjris
salvationjs nothing else but a true participation of
the divine nature. Heaven is not a tfiirigfwiffibut. "
us, nor is happiness any tiling distinct from a true
conjunction of the mind with God in a secret feel-
3K

442 THE EXCELLENCY AND
ing of his goodness and reciprocation of affection to
him, wherein the divine glory most unfolds itself.
And there is nothing that a soul, touched with any
serious sense of God, can more earnestly thirst after,
or seek with more strength of affection than this.
Then shall we be happy, when God comes to be
V all in all in us. To love God above ourselves is
I not indeed so properly to love him above the salva-
1 tion of our souls, as if these were distinct things ;
but it is to love him above all our own sinful affec
tions, and above our particular beings, and to con
form ourselves to him. And as that which is good
relatively, and in order to us,* is so much the bet
ter, by how much the more it is commensurate and
conformed to us : so on the other side, that which
is good absolutely and essentially, requires that our
minds and affections should, as far as may be, be
commensurate and conformed to it: and herein is
God most glorified, and we made happy. As we
cannot truly love the first and highest good while
we serve a design upon it, and subordinate it to
ourselves: so neither is our own salvation consis
tent with any such sordid, pinching and particular
love. We cannot be completely blessed, till the
idea boni, or the ipsum bonum-, which is God, exer
cise its sovereignty over all tbe faculties of our
souls, rendering them as like to itself as may con
sist with their proper capacity.
[See more of this in the Discourse of the Exis
tence and Nature of God, chap. 4.]

* See the Discourse ofthe Existence and Nature of God, chap. 9.
.1

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 443

CHAP. VI.
The fourth property or effect discovering tlie exceUency of religion,
viz. That it begets the greatest serenity and composedness qf
mind, and brings the truest contentment, the purest and most sa
tisfying joy and pleasure to every Itoly soul. God, as being that
uniform chief good, and the one last end, does attract and fix
the soul. Wicked men distracted through a multiplicity qf ob
jects and ends. How the restless appetite qf our wills after
some supreme good leads to the knowledge fas qf a Deity, so)
ofthe unity qf a Deity. How tlie joys and delights of good men
differ from and far excel those qf the wicked. The constancy
and tranquillity ofthe spirits qf good men in reference to exter
nal troubles. All perturbations qf the mind arise from an in
ward rather than an outward cause. The Stoics' method for at
taining araga'^ia and true rest examined, and the insufficiency qf
il discovered. A further illustration qf what lias been said con
cerning the peaceful and happy state qf good men, from the con
trary state qf the wicked.
4. JL HE fourth property and effect of true reli
gion, wherein it expresseth its own nobleness, is
this, That it begets the greatest serenity, constancy, \
and composedness of mind, and brings the truest con- \
tentment, the most satisfying joy and pleasure, the I
purest and most divine sweetness and pleasure to the I
spirits qf good men. Every good man, in whom
reHgion rules, is at peace and unity with himself, is
as a city compacted together. Grace doth more
and more reduce all the faculties of the soul into a
perfect subjection and subordination to itself. The
union and conjunction of the soul with God, that
primitive unity, is that which is the alone original
and fountain of all peace, and the centre of rest :

444 THE EXCELLENCY AND
as the further any being slides from God, the more
it breaks into discords within itself, as not having
any centre within itself which might collect and
unite all the faculties thereof to itself, and so knit
them up together in a sweet confederacy amongst
themselves. God only is such an almighty good
ness as can attract all the powers in man's soul to
itself, as being an object transcendently adequate
to the largest capacities of any created being, and
so unite man perfectly to himself in the true en
joyment of one uniform and simple good.
It must be one last end and supreme good that
can fix man's mind, which otherwise will be tossed
up and down in perpetual uncertainties, and become
as many several things, as those poor particularities
are which it meets with. A wicked man's life is
so distracted by a multiplicity of ends and objects,
that it never is, nor can be, consistent to itself, nor
continue in any composed, settled frame : it is the
most intricate, irregular, and confused thing in the
world, no one part of it agreeing with another, be
cause the whole is not firmly knit together, by the
power of some one last end running through all.
Whereas the life of a good man is under the sweet
command of one supreme goodness and last end.
This alone is that living form and soul, which run
ning through all the powers of the mind and ac
tions of life, collects all together into one fair and
beautiful system, making all that variety conspire
into perfect unity; whereas else all would fall
asunder Hke the members of a dead body, when
once the soul is gone, every little particle flitting
itself from the rest. It was a good maxim of Pytha
goras, quoted by Clemens Alexandrinus, Ae? xa) rov

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 445
Sfegwrov %va yevia^ai, Oportet etiam hominem unum
fieri. A divided mind and a multiform life speaks
the greatest disparagement that may be : it is only
the intermediation of one last end that can recon
cile a man perfectly to himself and his own happi
ness. This is the best temper and composedness
of the soul, orav eig ev xa) sig yfav o^oXoyiav haf&ri, as
Plotinus speaks, when by a conjunction with one
chief good and last end it is drawn up in a unity
and consent with itself; when all the faculties of
the soul with their several issues and motions,
though never so many in themselves, like so many
lines meet together, in one and the same centre.
It is not one and the same goodness that always
actuates the faculties of a wicked man; but as
many several images and pictures of goodness as a
quick and working fancy can represent to him ;
which so divide his affections, that he is no one
thing within himself) but tossed hither and thither
by the most independent principles and imagina
tions that may be. But a good man hath singled
out the supreme goodness, which by an omnipotent
sweetness draws all his affections after it, and so
makes them all with the greatest complacency con
spire together in the pursuit and embraces of it.
Were there not some infinite and self-sufficient
goodness, and that perfectly one, agwzri pbvag, as
Simplicius doth phrase it, man would be a most
miserably distracted creature. As the restless ap
petite within man after some infinite and sovereign
good (without the enjoyment of which it could
never be satisfied) does commend unto us the no
tion of a Deity : so the perpetual distractions and
divisions that would arise in the soul upon a plu-

*
446 THE EXCELLENCY AND
raUty of deities, may seem no less to evince the
unity of that Deity. Were not this chief good
perfectly one, were there any other equal to it,
man's soul would hang in cequilibrio, equaUy poised,
equally desiring the enjoyment of both, but moving
to neither ; Hke a piece of iron between two load
stones of equal virtue. But when religion enters
into the soul, it charms all its restless rage and
violent appetite, by discovering to it the universal
fountain-fulness of one supreme almighty good
ness ; and leading it out of itself into a conjunction
therewith, it lulls it into the most undisturbed rest
and quietness in the lap of divine enjoyment ;
where it meets with full contentment, and rests
adequately satisfied in the fruition of the infinite,
uniform, and essential goodness and loveliness, the.
true AuroxaXov, that is not icy \uiv za'hov, yjj d\ ou z.a'hov,
aKh' oKov h' oKou xaXov, as a noble philosopher doth well
express it.
The peace which a religious soul is possessed of,
is such a " peace as passeth all understanding :"
the joy that it meets with in the ways of holiness is
" unspeakable and fuU of glory." The deHghts
and sweetnesses that accompany a religious life
are of a purer and more exceUent nature than the
pleasures of worldly men. The spirit of a good
man is a more pure and refined thing than to de^
light itself in the thick mire of earthly and sensual
pleasures, in which carnal men roll and tumble
themselvesswith so much greediness : Non admittit
ad volatum accipitrem suum in terra pulverulenta, as
the Arabic proverb hath it. It speaks the degenera
tion of any soul whatsoever, that it should desire
to incorporate itself with any of the gross, dreggy,

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 447
sensual deUghts here below. But a soul purified
by religion from all earthly dregs, delights to
mingle itself only with things that are most divine
and spiritual. There is nothing that can beget any
pleasure or sweetness, but in some harmonical fa
culty which hath some kindred and acquaintance
with it. As it is in the senses, so in every other
faculty, there is such a natural kind of science as
whereby it can single out its own proper object
from every thing else, and is better able to define
it to itself than the exactest artist in the world
can ; and when once it hath found it out, it pre
sently feels itself so perfectly fitted and matched by
it, that it dissolves into secret joy and pleasure in
the entertainment of it. True delight and joy is
begotten by the .conjunction of some discerning
faculty with its proper object. The proper objects
for a mind and spirit are divine and immaterial
things, with which it hath the greatest affinity, and
therefore triumphs most in its converse with them ;
as it is well observed by Seneca,* Hoc habet argu-
ntentum divinitatis sua?, quod ilium divina delectant ;
nee ut alienis interest, sed ut suis : and when it con-
verseth most with these high and noble objects, it
behaves itself most gracefully, and lives most be
coming itself; and it lives also most deliriously,
dot can it any where else be better provided for,
or indeed fare so well. A good man disdains to
be beholden to the wit, or art, or industry of any
creature to find him out, and bring him in a con
stant revenue and maintenance for his joy and plea
sure : the language of his heart is that of the
* In Pr.-efat. ad Lib. I. Nat. Qusest.

448 THE EXCELLENCY AND
Psalmist, " Lord, lift thou up the light of thy
countenance upon me." * Religion always carries
a sufficient provision of joy and sweetness along
with it to maintain itself withal : " AU the ways of
wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
are peace." t Religion is no sullen stoicism or op
pressing melancholy, it is no inthralling tyranny
exercised over those noble and vivacious affections
of love and delight, as those men that were never
acquainted with the life of it may imagine ; but
is full of a vigorous and masculine delight and
joy, and such as advanceth and ennobles the
soul, and does not weaken or dispirit the life and
power of it, as sensual and earthly joys do, when
the soul, unacquainted with religion, is enforced to
give entertainment to these gross and earthly
things, for the want of enjoyment of some better
good. The spirit of a good man may justly behave
itself with a noble disdain to all terrene pleasures,
because it knows where to mend its fare ; it is the
same almighty and eternal goodness which is the
happiness of God and of aH good men. The truly
religious soul affects nothing primarily and funda
mentally but God himself; his contentment, even
in the midst of his worldly employments, is in the
sun of the divine favour that shines upon him : this
is as the manna that lies upon the top of aU out
ward blessings wliich his spirit gathers up and feeds
upon with delight. Religion consists not in a toil
some drudgery about some bodUy exercises and ex
ternal performances ; nor is it only the spending of
ourselves in such attendances upon God and ser-
* Psal. iv. 6. f Prov. iii. 17.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 449
vices to him as are only accommodated to this life,
though every employment for God is both amiable
and honourable : but there is something of our re
ligion that interests us in a present possession of
that "joy which is unspeakable and glorious;"
which leads us into the porch of heaven, and to
the confines of eternity. It sometimes carries up
the soul into a mount of transfiguration, or to the
top of Pisgah, where it may take a prospect of the
promised land ; and gives it a map or scheme of its
future inheritance : it gives it sometimes some an
ticipations of blessedness, some foretastes of those
joys, those rivers of pleasure which run at God's
right hand for evermore.
I might further add as a mantissa to this present
argument, the tranquiUity and composedness of a
good man's spirit in reference to all external mo
lestations. Religion having made a thorough pa
cification of the soul within itself, renders it im
pregnable to all outward assaults : so that it is at :
rest, and lives securely in the midst of all those bois
terous storms and tempests which make such vio
lent impressions upon the spirits of wicked men.
Here the Stoics have stated the case aright, that all
perturbations of the mind arise not properly from
an outward but an inward cause : it is not any out
ward evil but an inward imagination bred in the
womb of the soul itself, that molests and grieves it.
The more the soul is restored to itself, and Hvesjat_
the hdghtqf its L_ojm ijieing, the more easily may it
disdain and despise any design or combination
against it by the most blustering giants in the world.
A Christian Jhat enjoys himseU! in God, will not
be beholden to the world's fair and gentle usage for
3 L

450 THE EXCELLENCY AND
the composedness of his mind ; no, he enjoys that
peace and tranquilhty within himself wliich no crea
ture can bestow upon him, or take from him.
But the Stoics were not so happy in their notions
about the way to true rest and composedness of
spirit. It is not (by their leave) the soul's collect
ing and gathering up itself within the circumference
of its own essence, nor is it a rigid restraining and
keeping in its own issues and motions within tlie
confines of its own natural endowments, which is
able to confer upon it that aragaijia and composed
ness of mind which they so much idolize, as the su
preme and only bliss of man, and render it free
from all kind of perturbations : for by what we find
in Seneca and others, it appears, that the Stoics
seeking an autarchy within themselves, and being
loath to be beholden to God for their happiness,
but tnat each of them might be as God, self-suf
ficient and happy in the enjoyment of himself,
endeavoured by their sour doctrine and a rigid dis
cipHne over their souls, their severities against pas
sions and all those restless motions in the soul after
some higher good, to attain a complete aragaSj/a and
a fuU contentment within themselves. But herein
the true method of finding rest to themselves
escaped them, it being the union of the soul with
God, that uniform, simple, and unbounded good,
which is the sole original of aU true inward peace.
Neither were it a happiness worth the having, for
a mind, like a hermit sequestered from all things else,
by a recession into itself, to spend an eternity in
self-converse, and the enjoyment of such a diminu
tive superficial nothing as itself is, and must neces
sarily be to itself. It is only peculiar to God to be

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 451
happy in himself alone ; and God who has been
more liberal in his provisions for man, hath created
in man such a spring of restless motion, that with
the greatest impatience forceth him out of himself,
and violently tosseth him to and fro, tiU he come to
fix himself upon some solid and self-subsistent good
ness. Could a man find himself withdrawn from /
aU terrene and material things, and perfectly retired/
into himself; were the whole world so quiet and
calm about him, as not to offer to make the least at-.
tempt upon the composedness and constancy of his j
mind ; might he be so well entertained at his own
home, as to find no frowns, no sour looks from his
own conscience ; might he have that security from.
heaven, that God would not disquiet his fancied;
tranquillity by imbittering his thoughts with any
dreadful apprehensions ; yet he should find some-;!
thing within him that would not let him be at rest,;
but would rend him from himself and toss himi
from his own foundation and consistency. There \
is an insatiable appetite in the soul of man, like a j
greedy Hon hunting after his prey, that would ren- :
der him impatient of his own pinching penury, and j
could never satisfy itself with such a thin and spare \
diet as he finds at home. There are two principal
faculties in the soul which, Hke the two daughters
of the horseleech, are always crying, give, give :
these are those hungry vultures which, if they can
not find their prey abroad, return and gnaw the
soul itself: where the carcass is, there will the
eagles be gathered together. By this we may see
how unavailable to the attaining of true rest and
peace that conceit of the Stoics was, who supposed
the only way and method hereto was this, to confine

452 THE EXCELLENCY AND
the soul thus monastically to its own home. We
read in the gospel of such a question of our Sa
viour's, " What went you out into the wUderness
f to see ?"* we may invert it, What do you return
j within to see ? A soul confined within the private
j and narrow cell of its own particular being ? Such
a soul deprives itself of all that almighty and essen-
i tial glory and goodness which shines round about
j it, which spreads itself through the whole universe;
| I say it deprives itself of all this, for the enjoying
,- of such a poor, petty, and diminutive thing as itself
] is, which yet it can never enjoy truly in such a
\ retiredness. We have seen the peaceful and happy state of the
truly religious : but it is otherwise with wicked and
irreligious men. " There is no peace to the wicked ;
but they are like the troubled sea, when it cannot
rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt ;"t as it is
expressed by the prophet Isaiah. The mind of a
wicked man is like the sea when it roars and rages
through the striving of several contrary winds upon
it. Furious lusts and wild passions within, as they
war against heaven and the more noble and divine
part of the soul, so they war amongst themselves,
maintaining perpetual contests, and contending
which shall be the greatest : scelera dissident.
These indeed are the Cadmus-brood rising out
of the serpent's teeth, ready armed one against
another : whence it is that the soul of a wicked
man becomes a very unhabitable and incommo
dious place to itself, full of disquietness and trou
ble, through the many contests and civU commo-
• Matt. xi. 7. t Isa- lvii- 20, 21 .

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 453
tions maintained within it. The minds of wicked
men are like those disconsolate and desolate spirits
which our Saviour speaks of, which being cast out
of their habitation, wander up and down through
dry and desert places, seeking rest but finding
none.* The soul that finds not some solid and self-
sufficient good to centre itself upon, is a boisterous
and restless thing : and being without God, it wan
ders up and down the world, destitute, afflicted,
tormented with vehement hunger and thirst after
some satisfying good : and, as any one shall bring
it tidings, " Lo here, or Lo there is good," it pre
sently goes out towards it, and with a swift and
speedy flight hastens after it. The sense of an in
ward indigency doth stimulate and enforce it to
seek its contentment without itself) and so it wan
ders up and down from one creature to another ;
and thus becomes distracted by a multiplicity of
objects. And while it cannot find some one and
only object upon which, as being perfectly adequate
to its capacities, it may wholly bestow itself; while
it is tossed with restless and vehement motions of
desire and love through a world of painted beau
ties, false glozing excellencies ; courting all, but
matching nowhere ; violently hurried everywhere,
but finding nowhere objectum par amori ; while it
converseth only with these pinching particularities
here below, and is not yet acquainted with the uni
versal goodness ; it is certainly far from true rest
and satisfaction, from a fixed, composed temper of
spirit : but being distracted by multiplicity of
objects and ends, there can never be any firm and
* Matt. xii. 43.

454 THE EXCELLENCY AND
stable peace or friendship at home amongst all its"
powers and faculties : nor can there be a firm amity
and friendship abroad betwixt wicked men them
selves, as Aristotle concludesinhisEthics, because all
vice is so multiform and inconsistent a thing, and so
there can be no true concatenation of affections and
ends between them. Whereas in all good men, virtue
and goodness is one form and soul to them all, that
unites them together, and there is the one, simple,
and uniform good, that guides and governs them
all. They are not as a ship tossed in the tumultu
ous ocean of this world without any compass at all
to steer by ; but they direct their course by the
certain guidance of the one last end, as the true
pole-star of all their motion. But while the soul
lies benighted in a thick ignorance, as it is with
wicked men, and beholds not some stable and eter
nal good towards which it may move ; though it
may, by the strength of that principle of activeness
within itself, spend itself perpetually with swift and
giddy motions ; yet it will be always contesting
with secret disturbances, and cannot act but with
many reluctancies, as not finding an object equal to
the force and strength of its vast affections to act
upon. By what hath been said, may appear the vast dif
ference between the ways of sin and of holiness.
Inward distractions and disturbances, " tribulation
and anguish upon every soul that doth evU : but to
every man that worketh good, glory, honour, and
peace,"* inward composedness and tranquillity of
spirit, pure and divine joys, far excelling all sensual
* Rom. ii. 9, lo.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 455
pleasures ; in a word, true contentment of spirit
and full satisfaction in God, whom the pious soul
loves above all things, and longs still after a nearer
enjoyment of him. I shall conclude this particular
with what Plotinus concludes his book, That the
life of holy and divine men is fiiog avqSovog ruv ryot,
puyrj (jbovov srgoj (j,6vov, ' a life not touched with these
vanishing delights of time, but a flight of the soul
alone to God alone.'

456 • THE EXCELLENCY AND

CHAP. VIL

The fifth property or effect discovering the excellency of religion,
viz. That it advanceth the soul to a holy boldness and humble
familiarity with God, and to a comfortable confidence concerning
the love qf God toward it, and its own salvation. Fearfulness,
consternation of mind, and frightful passions, are consequent up
on sin and guilt. These, together with the most dismal deport
ments qf trembling and amazement, are agreeable to the nature
ofthe devil, who delights to be served in this manner by his
worshippers. Love, joy, and hope, are most agreeable to the na
ture of God, and most pleasing to him. The right apprehen
sions qf God are. such as are apt to beget love to God, delight
and confidence in him. A true Christian is more for a solid and
well-grounded peace than for high raptures and feelings of joy.
How a Christian should endeavour the assurance qf his salva
tion. That he should not importunately expect or desire some
extraordinary manifestations qf God lo him, but rather look after
the manifestation ofthe life qf God within him, the foundation
or beginning qf heaven and salvation in his own soul. That
self-resignation, and the subduing qf our own wills, are greatly
available to obtain assurance. The vanity and absurdity of that
opinion, viz. That in a perfect resignation of our wills to God's,
will, a man should be content with his own damnation, and to
be the subject of eternal wrath in hell, if it should so please
God.
5. JL HE fifth property or effect, whereby true reli
gion discovers its own nobleness and exceUency, is
this, That it advanceth the soul to a holybqldness
and humble famiUarity with God, as also to a well-
grounded hope and comfortable cot^^icesoncerning
the hve of God toward it, and its own salvation.
The truly religious soul maintains a humble and
sweet familiarity with God ; and with great alacri-

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 457
ty of spirit, without any consternation and servility
of spirit, is enabled to look upon the glory and
majesty ofthe Most High : but sin and wickedness
is pregnant with fearfulness and horror. That
trembling and consternation of mind which possesses .
wicked men, is nothing else but a brat of darkness,
an empusa begotten in corrupt and irreligious hearts.
While men " walk in darkness," and " are of the
night," as the apostle speaks, then it is only that
they are vexed with those ugly and ghastly pogpog
that terrify and torment them. But when once the
day breaks, and true religion opens herself upon the
soul like the eyelids of the morning, then all those
shadows and frightful apparitions flee away. As all
light, and love, and joy, descend from above from
the Father of Hghts : so all darkness, and fearful
ness, and despair, are from below ; they arise from
corrupt and earthly minds, and are like those gross
vapours arising from this earthly globe, that not
being able to get up towards heaven, spread them
selves about the circumference of that body where
they were first begotten, infesting it with darkness,
and generating into thunder and lightning, clouds
and tempests. But the higher a Christian ascends
lx rou arrikaiou above this dark dungeon of the body,
the more that reHgion prevails within him, the more
then shall he find himself as it were in a clear hea
ven, in a region that is calm and serene ; and the
more will those black and dark affections of fear
and despair vanish away, and those clear and bright
affections of love, and joy, and hope, break forth in
their strength and lustre.
The devil, who is the prince of darkness and the
great tyrant, delights to be served with ghastly af-
3 M

458 THE EXCELLENCY AND
fections, and the most dismal deportments of trem
bHng and astonishment ; as having nothing at all of
amiableness or excellency in him to commend him
self to his worshippers. Slavery and servility (that
yhurroxopov rtjg -4<o%??, as Longinus truly calls it) is
the badge and livery of the devil's religion : hence
those qgizra puarriya* of the heathens performed
with much trembling and horror. But God, who
is the supreme goodness and essential both love and
loveliness., takes most pleasure in those sweet and
delightful affections of the soul, viz. love, joy, and
hope, which are most correspondent to his own na
ture. The ancient superstition ofthe heathens was
always very nice and curious in honouring every
one of their gods with sacrifices and rites most
agreeable to their natures : I am sure there is no
incense, no offering which we can present to God,
so sweet, so acceptable to him as our love, and de
light, and confidence in him ; and when he comes
into the souls of men, he makes these his throne,
his place of rest, as finding the greatest agreeable-
ness therein to his own essence. A good man that
finds himseU" made, partaker ofjbhejdivine nature,
and transformed into the image of God/iSnitely
takes pleasure in God, as being " altogether love
ly," according to that in Cant. v. 16. n^nno i"7p
Totus ipse est desideria '; and his " meditation of
God is sweet unto him."t St. John, that lay in the
bosom of Christ, who came from the bosom of the
Father, and perfectly understood his eternal es
sence, hath given us the fuUest description that he
* The words for false gods and idols, D»S5!J> and D»a«j< import (rouble and
terror, and frightful passions in their worshippers.
t Psal. civ. 31. i

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 459
could make of him, when he tells us that " God is
love, and he that dwells in God, dwells in love ;"*
and reposing himself in the bosom of an almighty
goodness, where he finds nothing but love and love
liness, he now displays all the strength and beauty
of those his choicest and most precious affections
of love, and joy, and confidence; his soul is now at
ease, and rests in peace, neither is there any thing
to make afraid : he is got beyond all those powers
of darkness which give such continual alarms in this
lower world, and are always troubling the earth :
he is got above aU fears and despairs ; he is in a
bright, clear region, above clouds and tempests,
infra se despicit nubes. There is no frightful terri-
blencj^J^the^upreme Majesty. That we appre-
Kend God at any tinieTn such a dismayed manner,
it must not at all be made an argument of his nature,
but of our sinfulness and weakness. The sun in
the heavens always was and will be a globe of light
and brightness, although a purblind eye is rather
dazzled than enlightened by it. There is an inward
sense in man's soul, which, were it once awakened
andexcited with an inward taste and relish of the
Divinity, could better define God to him than all
the world else. It is the sincere Christian that so
tastes and sees how good and sweet the Lord is, as
none else does : " The God of hope fills him with
all joy and peace in beHeving," so that he " abounds
in hope,"t as the apostle speaks. He quietly re
poses himself in God ; " his heart is fixed, trusting
in the Lord ;t hejs more for a solid peace and set-
tled_calm of_spirit,_than for high raptures and feel-
* Johniv. 16. f Rom- XVl 13' t P^ cxii- 7-

460 THE EXCELLENCY AND
ings of joy, or extraordinary manifestation&.p£.God
to him : he does npt passionately desire, nor impor
tunately expect such things ; he rather looks after
tolTmanifestations of the goodness and power. of
God within him, in subduing all in his soul that is
unlike and contrary to God, and forming him into
his image and likeness.
Though I think it worthy of a Christian to en-
deavour the assurance of his own salvation; yet
perhaps it might be the safest way to moderate his
curiosity of prying into God's book of life, and to
stay a while until he sees himself within the con
fines of salvation itself. Should a man hear a voice
from heaven, or see avision from the Almighty, to
testify unto him the love of God towards him ;. yet
methinks it were more desirable to find a revela
tion of all from within, "arising up from the bottom
and centre of a_man's own, soul, in the jreal and in
ternal impressions of a godlike nature upon his own
spirit ; and thus to find the foundation and begin
ning of heaven and happiness wdthin himself: it
were more desirable to see the crucifying of our
own wiU, the mortifying of the mere animal life,
and to see a divine life rising up intheroonToTifi
as a sure pledge and inchoation of immortality and
happiness, the very essence of which "consists in a
perfect conformity and cheerful compliance of all
, the powers of our souls with the will of God.
The best way of gaining a well-grounded assu
rance of the divine love is this, for a man to over
come himself and his own will : "To him that
overcomes shall be given that white stone, and in
it the new name written, which no man knoweth

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 461
but he that receives it."* He that beholds the sun
of righteousness arising upon the horizon of his
soul with healing in its wings, and chasing away
all. that misty darkness of his own self-will and pas-
fjsions ; such a one desh^sviot. now the star-light
' to know whether it be day or not, nor cares he to
pry into heaven's secrets, and to search into the
hidden rolls of eternity, there to see the whole plot
of his salvation ; for he views it transacted upon the
inward stage of his own soul, and reflecting upon
himself. Tie may behold a heaven opened from with
in, and a throne set up in his soul, and an almighty
Saviour sitting upon it, and reigning within him :
he now finds the kingdom" of heaven within him,
and sees that it is not a thing merely reserved for
him without him, being already made partaker of
t|ie^sweetness and efficacy^ of it. What the Jews
say of the spirit of prophecy, may not unfitly be
applied to the Holy Ghost, the true comforter
dwelling in the minds of good men as a sure earnest
of their eternal inheritance, "naa "v vbs n-mc ntmj vn
' The Spirit resides not but upon a man of forti
tude,' one that gives proof of this fortitude in sub
duing his own self-will and his affections. We read
of Elisha, that he was fain to call for a musical in
strument and one to play before him, to allay the
heat of his passions, before he could converse with
the prophetical spirit. The Holy Spirit is too pure
and gentle a thing to dwell in a mind muddied and
disturbed by those impure dregs, those thick fogs and
mists that arise from our self-will and passions ; our
prevailing over these is the best way to cherish the
* Revel, ii. 17.

462 THE EXCELLENCY AND
Holy Spirit, by which we may be sealed unto the
day of redemption.
To conclude this particular : It is a venturous
and rugged guess and conceit which some men
have, that in a perfect resignation of our wiUs to
the divine will, a man should be content with his
own damnation', and to be the subject of eternal
wrath in hell, if it should so please God : which is
as impossible as it is for him that infinitely thirsts
after a true participation of the divine nature, and
most earnestly endeavours a most inward union
with God in spirit, by a denial of himself and his
own will, to swell up in self-love, pride, and arro-
gancy against God ; the one whereof is the most
substantial heaven, the other the most real hell :
whereas indeed by conquering ourselves we are
translated from death to life, and the kingdmn_of_
God and heaven is already come into us.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 463

CHAP. VIII.
The sixth property or effect discovering the excellency qf religion,
viz. That it spiritualizes material things, and carries up the
souls qf good men from sensible and earthljkthings, to things in
teUectual and divine. There are lesser and fuller representations
qf God in the creatures. To converse with God in the creation,
and lo pass out qf the sensible world into the intellectual, is most
effectually taught by religion. Wicked men converse not with
God as shining out in the creatures ; they converse with them in
a sensual and unspiritual manner. Religion does spiritualize the
creation to good men : it teaches them to look al any perfections
or excellencies in themselves and others, not so much as theirs or
others, but as so many beams flowing from one and the same
fountain qf light ; to love them all in God, and God in all ; the
universal goodness in a particular being. A good man enjoys
and delights in whatsoever good he sees otherwhere, as if it were
his own : he does not fondly love and esteem either himself or
others. The divine temper and strain ofthe ancient philoso
phy.
6. jl HE sixth property or effect, wherein religion
discovers its own excellency, is this, That it spiri
tualizes material things, and so carries up the souls qf
good men from earthly things to things divine, from
this sensible world to the intellectual.
God made the universe and all the creatures con
tained therein, as so many glasses wherein he might
reflect his own glory : he hath copiedforth himself
in the creation ; and in this outward world we may
read the lovely characters of the divine goodriess,
power and wisdom. In some creatures there are
darker representations of God, there are the prints
and footsteps of God ; but in others there are

464 THE EXCELLENCY AND
clearer and fuller representations of the Divinity,
the face and image of God ; according to that known
saying of the schoolmen, Remotiores similitudines
creatura? ad Deum dicuntur vestigium ; propinquiores
verb imago. But howvto finjdjGrod here, and feel-
ingly to converse with him, and being affected with
fhe sense of the divine glory shining out upon the
creation, how to pass out of the sensible world into
the inteUectual, is not so effectually taught by that
philosophy which professed it most, as by true reli
gion : that which knits and unites God and the soul
together, can best teach it how to ascend and de
scend upon those golden links that unite, as it were,
the world to God. That divine wisdom that con
trived and beautified this glorious structure, can
best explain her own art, and carry up the soul
back again in these reflected beams to him who is
the fountain of them. Though good men, all of
them, are not acquainted with all those philosophi
cal notions touching the relation between created
and the uncreated being ; yet may they easily find
every creature pointing out to that being whose
image and superscription it bears, and climb up
from those darker resemblances of the divine wis
dom and goodness shining out in different degrees
upon several creatures, usmg avafiadpoig no), as the
ancients speak, till they sweetly repose themselves in
the bosom of the Divinity : and while they are thus
[conversing with this lower world, and are viewing
i" the invisible things of God in the things that are
'made,"* in this visible and outward creation, they
find God many times secretly flowing into their
* Rom. i. 20.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 465
souls, and leading them silently out of the court of J
the temple into the holy place. But it is otherwise '
with wicked men ; they dwell perpetually upon the
dark side of the creatures, and converse with these
things only in a gross, sensual, earthly, and unspi-
ritual manner ; they are so encompassed with the
thick and foggy mist of their own corruptions, that
they cannot see God there, where he is most visible :
" the light shineth in darkness, but darkness com
prehends it not :"* their souls are so deeply sunk
into that house of clay which they carry about with
them, that were there nothing of body or bulky
matter before them, they could find nothing to
exercise themselves about.
But religion, where it is in truth arid in power, '
renews the very spirit of our minds, and doth in a
manner s^h^jtujH^ej^sjgiutward creation to us, and i
doth in a more excellent way perform that which -•
the Peripatetics are wont to affirm of their intellec
tus agens, in purging bodily and material things
from the feculency and dregs of matter, and sepa
rating them from those circumstantiating and strait
ening conditions of time arid place, and the like ;
and teaches the soul to look at those perfections
which it finds here below, not so much as the per
fections of this or that body, as they adorn this or
that particular being, but as they are so many rays
issuing forth from that first and essential perfection,
in which they aU meet and embrace one another in
the most close friendship. Every particular good
is a blossom of the first goodness; every created
excellency is a beam descending from the Father of

John :
5 N

466 THE EXCELLENCY AND
lights : and should we separate all these particula
rities from God, all affection spent upon them would
be unchaste, and their embraces adulterous. We_
should love all things in God, and God in all things,
because he is all in all, the beginning and original
of being, the perfect idea of their goodness, and
the end of their motion. It is nothing but a thick
mist of pride and self-love that hinders men's eyes
from beholding that sun which both enlightens them
and all things else : but when true religion begins
once to dawn upon men's souls, and with its shin
ing light chases away their black night of ignorance ;
then they behold themselves and all things else en
lightened, though in a different way, by one and
the same sun, and all the powers of their souls fall
down before God, and ascribe all glory to him.
Now it is that a good man is no more solicitous,
whether this or that good thing be mine, or whether
my perfections exceed the measure of this or that
^particular creature ; for whatsoever good he beholds
any where, he enjoys and delights in it as much as
if it were his own, and whatever he beholds in him
self, he looks not upon it as his property but as a
jcommon good ; for all these beams come from one
and the same fountain and ocean of light, in whom
he loves them all with a universal love : when his
[affections run along the stream of any created ex
cellencies, whether his own or any one's else, yet
|they stay not here, but run on till they fall into the
;ocean ; they do not settle into a fond love and ad-
[miration either of himself or any other's excellen
cies, but he owns them as so many pure effluxes and
emanations from God, and in a particular being
[loves the universal goodness. Si sciretur d me veri-

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 467
tas, sciretur etiam me illud non esse, aut illud non esse
meum, nee a me.
Thusjnay a good man walk up and down the
worldjisjn a garden of spices, and suck a divine
sweetness out of every flower. There is a twofold
meaning m every creature, as the Jews speak of
their law, a literal, and a mystical, and the one is
but the ground of the other : and as they say of
divers v pieces of their law, r-byzh im nan1? -on so a
good man says of every thing that his senses offer
to him, ' it speaks to his lower part, but it points
out something above to his mind and spirit.' It is
the drowsy and muddy spirit of superstition which,
being lulled asleep in the lap of worldly delights,
is fain to set some idol at its elbow, something that
may jog it, and put it in mind of God. Whereas
true religion never finds itself out of the infinite
sphere of the Divinity, and wherever it finds beau
ty, harmony, goodness, love, ingenuity, wisdom, ho
liness, justice, and the like, it is ready to say, herd,
and there is God : wheresoever any such perfec-j
tions shine out, a holy mind climbs up by these/
sunbeams, and raises itself up to God.
And peeing God hath never thrown the world 1
from himserfT^uTfuris'through all created essence,
containTngThe archetypal ideas of all things in him
self ', and from thence deriving and imparting several
prints of beauty and excellency all the world over ;
a .soul that is truly Ssoe/Ssfe godlike, a mind that is
enlightened from the same fountain, and hath its
inward senses affected with the sweet relishes of di
vine goodness, cannot but every where behold itself
in the midst of that glorious junbounded Being who ¦
islndivisibly everywhere. A good man finds every,;

($#*«,- -„#u,«*Vj!S>W - ii "---t*»*="*lStw5^rai2^.-ji.iiCElJ;w(JlB

468 THE EXCELLENCY AND
] place he treads upon holy ground ; to him the
i world is God's temple ; he is ready to say with Ja-
| cob, " How dreadful is this place ! this is none
I other but the house of God."*
To conclude ; It was a degenerous and unwor
thy spirit in that philosophy which first separated
and made such distances between metaphysical
truths, and the truths of nature ; whereas the first
and most ancient wisdom amongst the heathens
was indeed a philosophical divinity, or a divine phi
losophy ; which continued for divers ages, but, as
men grew worse, their queasy stomachs began to
loathe it : which made the truly wise Socrates com
plain of the sophisters of that age who began now
to corrupt and debase it ; whereas heretofore the
spirit of philosophy was more generous arid divine,
and did more purify and ennoble the souls of men,
commending intellectual things to them, and taking
them off from settling upon sensible and material
things here below, and still exciting them to endea
vour after the nearest resemblance of God the
supreme goodness and loveliness, and an intimate
conjunction with him ; which, according to the
strain of that philosophy, was the true happiness of
immortal souls.
* Gen. xxviii. 17.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 469

CHAP. IX.
The seventh and last properly or effect discovering the excellency of
religion, viz. Tlmt it raiseth the minds qf good men to a due ob
servance qf, and attendance upon, divine providence, and enables
them to serve the will qf God, and lo acquiesce in it. For a man
to serve providence and the will qf God entirely, to work with
God, and lo bring himself and all his actions into a compliance
with God's will, his ends and designs, is an argument qf the
truest nobleness qf spirit ; it is the most excellent and divine life ;
and it is most for man's advantage. How the consideration qf
divine providence is the way to inward quietness and establish
ment qf spirit. How wicked men carry themselves unbecomingly
through their impatience and frelf ulness under the disposals qf
providence. The beauty and harmony qf the various methods qf
providence.
7. X HE seventh and last property or effect wherein
true religion expresseth its own nobleness and ex
cellency, is this, That it raiseth the minds of good
men to a due observance of, and attendance upon, di
vine providence, and enables them to serve the will of
God, and to acquiesce in it. Wheresoever God hath
a tongue to speak, there they have ears to hear ;
and being attentive to God in the soft and still mo
tions of providence, they are ready to obey his call,
and to say with Isaiah, " Behold, here am I, send
me."* They endeavour to copy forth that lesson
which Christ hath set Christians, seriously consider
ing how that they came into this world by God's
appointment, not to do their own wills, but the will
of him that sent them. s
* Isa. vi. 8.

470 THE EXCELLENCY AND
As this consideration quiets the spirit of a good
man, who is no idle spectator of providence, and
keeps him in a calm and sober temper in the midst
of aU storms and tenipests ; so it makes him most
freely to engage himself in the service of providence,
without any inward reluctancy or disturbance. He
cannot be content that providence should serve
itself of him, as it doth even of those things that
understand it least ; but it is his holy ambition to
serve it. It is nothing else but hellish pride and
self-love that makes men serve themselves, and so
set up themselves as idols against God : but it is
indeed an argument of true nobleness of spirit for a
man to view himself, not in the narrow point of his
own being, but in the unbounded essence ofthe
first cause, so as to be ohxag rou zgeirrovog, and to live
only as an instrument in the hands of God, who
worketh aU things after the counsel of his own will.
Optarem id me esse Deq^quod est mihi manus mea,
was the expression of a holy soul.
To a good man to serve the will of God, it is in
the truest and best sense to serve himself, who
knows himself to be nothing without or in opposi
tion to God ; Quo minus quid sibi arrogat homo, eo
evadit nobilior, clarior, divinior. This is the most
divine life that can be, for a man to act in the world
upon^eternal desigris,~and to be so wholly devoted
to the will of God, as to serve it most faithfully and
entirely. This indeed bestows a kind of immor
tality upon these flitting and transient acts of ours,
which in themselves are but the offspring of a
moment A pUlar or verse is a poor sorry monu
ment of any exploit, which yet may well enough
become the highest of the world's bravery. But

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 471
good men, while they work with God, and endea
vour to bring themselves and all theif actions to a
unity with God, his ends and designs, enrol them
selves in eternity. This is the proper cnaracter^F
holy souls ; their wills are so fully resolved into the
divine will, that they in all things subscribe to it
without any murmurings or debates : they rest well
satisfied with, and take complacency in, anypassages
of divine dispensation, ag utto rrjs agiarng yvai^g tTtre-
Xoufju'evoig,* as being ordered and disposed by a mind
and wisdom above, according to the highest rules
of goodness.
The best way for a man rightly to enjoy himself,
is to maintain a universal, ready, and cheerful com
pliance with the divine and uncreated will in all
things ; as knowing that nothing can issue and flow
forth from the fountain of goodness but that which
is good : and therefore a good man is never offended
with any pieCe of divine dispensation, nor hath he
any reluctancy against that Will that dictates and
determines all things by an eternal rule of good
ness ; as knowing, that there is an unbounded and
almighty love, that without any disdain or envy,
freely communicates itself to every thing he made ;
that feeds even the young ravens that call upon
him ; that makes his sun to shine, and his rain to
fall, both upon the just and unjust ; that always
infolds those in his everlasting arms who are made
partakers of his own image, perpetually nourishing
and cherishing them with the fresh and vital influ- 1
ences of his grace ; as knowing also, that there is /
an all-seeing eye, an unbounded mind and under-]
* Epictet. cap. 38.

472 THE EXCELLENCY AND
standing, that derives itself through the whole
universe, and sitting in all the wheels of motion,
guides them aU, and powerfully governs the most
eccentrical motions of creatures, and carries them
all most harmoniously in their several orbs to one
last end. Who then shall give law to God?
" Where is the wise ? where is the scribe ? where
is the disputer of this world ?"* Where is he
that would climb up into that nSynn bv in iva the
great consistory in heaven, and sitting in con
sultation with the Almighty, instruct the infinite
and incomprehensible wisdom ? Shall vain man be
wiser than his maker ? This is the hellish temper of
wicked men, they examine and judge of all things
by the line and measure of their own self-will, their
own opinions and designs ; and measuring all things
by a crooked rule, they think nothing to be straight ;
and therefore they fall out with God, and with rest
less impatience fret and vex themselves : and this
fretfulness and impatiency in wicked men, argues a
breach in the just and due constitution of their
minds and spirits.
But a good man, whose soul is restored to that
frame and constitution it should be in, has better
apprehensions of the ways and works of God, and
is better affected under the various disposals of
providence. Indeed, to a superficial observer of
divine providence, many things there are that seem
to be nothing else but digressions from the main end '
of all, and to come to pass by a fortuitous con
course of circumstances ; that come in so abruptly,
and without any concatenation or dependance
* 1 Cor. i. 20.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 473
one upon another, as if they were without any
mind or understanding to guide them. But a wise
man that looks from the beginning to the end of
things, beholds them all in their due place and
method, acting that part which the supreme mind
and wisdom that governs aU things hath appointed
them, and to carry on one and the same eternal
design, while they move according to their own
proper inclinations and measures, and aim at their
own particular ends. It were not worth the whUe
to live in a world xevu ©sou xa) xgovoiag * devoid of
God and providence,' as it was well observed by
the Stoic : and to be subservient unto providence
is the holy ambition and great endeavour of a good
man, who is so perfectly overpowered with the love
of the universal and infinite goodness, that he would
not serve any particular good whatsoever, no not
liimself, so as to set up in the world and trade for
himself, as the men of this world do, who are " lov
ers of their own selves, and lovers of pleasures more
than lovers of God."*
* 2 Tim. iii. 2. 4.

474 THE EXCELLENCY AND

CHAP. X.
4. The excellency qf religion in regard qf its progress, as il is per
petually carrying on the soul towards perfection. Every nature
hath its proper centre which it hastens to. Sin and wickedness
is within the attractive power qf hell, and hastens thither : grace
and holiness is within the central force qf heaven, and moves
thither. It is not the speculation of heaven, as a thing to come, that
satisfies the desires of religious souls, but the real possession qf
it even in this life. Men are apt to seek after assurance qf
heaven as a thing to come, rather than after heaven itself, and
the inward possession qf it here. How the assurance qf heaven,
rises from the growth qf holiness and the powerful progress qf
religion in our souls. That we are not hastily to believe that we
are Christ's, or that Christ is in us. That the works which
Christ does in holy souls testify qf him, and best evidence Christ's
spiritual appearance in them.
W E have considered the excellency of true re
ligion, 1. In regard of its descent and original ;
2. In regard of its nature ; 3. In regard of its pro
perties and effects. We proceed now to a fourth
- particular, and shaU show,
4. That religion is a generous and noble thing
in regard of its progress ; it is perpetually carrying
on that mind in which it is once seated toward per-
i fection. Though the first appearance of it upon
! the souls of good men, may be but as the wings of
f the morning spreading themselves upon the moun-
; tains, yet it is still rising higher and higher upon
| them, chasing away all the filthy mists and vapours
1 of sin and wickedness before it, till it arrives to its
I meridian altitude.* There is the strength and force
| * The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more
I unto the perfect day. Prov. iv. 18.
' 1

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 475
of the Divinity in it ; and though, when it first en
ters into the minds of men, it may seem to be
" sown in weakness," yet it will raise itself in pow
er. As Christ was in his bodily appearance, he
was still increasing in wisdom, and knowledge, and
favour with God and man, untU he was perfected
in glory : so is he also in his spiritual appearance
in the souls of men ; and accordingly the New
Testament does more than once distinguish of
Christ in his several ages, and degrees of growth in
the souls of all true Christians. Good men are al
ways " walking on from strength to strength, tiU
at. last they see God in Zion." Religion though it
hath its jjUancy, yet it hath no old age : while it is
in its minority, it is always in motu ; but when it
comes to its maturity and full age, it willalways be
in quiete, it is then " always the same, and its years
faU not, but it shaU endure for ever." Holy and
religious souls being once touched with an inward
sense of divine beauty and goodness, by a strong
impress upon them are moved swiftly after God,
and, as the apostle expresses himself, " forgetting
those things which are behind, and reaching forth
unto those things which are before, they press to
ward the mark, for the prize of the high calling
of God in Christ Jesus ;" that so they may " attain
to the resurrection of the dead."*
Where a spirit of religion is, there is the central
force of heaven itself, quickening and enlivening
those that are informed by it in their motions to
ward heaven. As on the other side all unhallowed
and defiled minds are within the attractive power
* Phil. iii. 11, 15, 14.

476 THE EXCELLENCY AND
of hell, and are continually hastening their course
thither, being strongly pressed down by the weight
of their wickedness. 'Ae/ rivag 'iy$i xtvfoeig % <puaig,
as Plutarch hath weU observed, ' Every nature in
this world hath some proper centre which it is al
ways hastening to.' . Sin and wickedness does not
hover a little over the bottomless pit of hell, and
only flutter about it ; but it is continuaUy sinking
lower and lower into it. Neither does true grace
make some feeble assays toward heaven, but by a
I mighty energy within itself, it is always soaring up
(higher and higher into heaven. A good Christian
does not only court his happiness, and cast now
and then a smile upon it, or satisfy himself merely
to be contracted to it ; but with the greatest ar
dours of love and desire he pursues the solemnity
of the just nuptials, that he may be wedded to it
and made one with it. It is not an airy speculation
of heaven as a thing (though never so undoubtedly)
to come, that can satisfy his hungry desires, but the
real possession of it even in this Hfe.* Such a hap
piness would be less in the esteem of good men,
that were pnly good to be enjoyed at the end of
this Hfe when all other enjoyments faU him.
7 I wish there be not among some such a Hght and
poor esteem of heaven, as makes them more to seek
after assurance of heaven only in the idea of it as a
thing to come, than after heaven itself; whichln^''
jdeed we can never well be assured of, until we find
/ it rising up within ourselves and glorifying our own
souls. When true assurance comes, heaven itself
i wuT appear upon the horizon of our souls, like a
* So we read John vi. 54. "hath eternal life-;" and 1 John v. II, 15.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 477
morning light, chasing away all our dark and gloomy
doubtings before it. We shall not need then to light
up our candles to seek for it in corners ; no, it will
display its own lustre and brightness so before us,
that we may see it in its own light, and ourselves
the true possessors of it. We may be too nice and i
vain in seeking for signs and tokens of Christ's j
spiritual appearances in the souls of men, as well as
the Scribes and Pharisees were in seeking for them,'
at his first appearance in the world. When he
comes into us, let us expect till the works that he
shall do within us may testify of him ; and be not
over credulous, till we find that he doth those works?
there which none other could do. As for a true
well-grOunded assurance, say not so much, " Who';
shaU ascend up into heaven," to fetch it down from
thence ? or " who shall descend into the deep," to
fetch it up from beneath ? for in the growth of true
internal goodness, and in the progress of true reH
gion it will freely unfold itself within us. ^Stay till
the grain of mUstard-seed itself breaks forth from
among the clods that buried it, till, through the
descent of the heavenly dew, it sprouts up and dis
covers itseU' openly. This holy assurance is indeed
the budding and blossoming of felicity in our own
souls ; it is the inward sense and feeling of the true
life, spirit, sweetness, arid beauty of grace power- j
fully expressing its own energy within us.
Briefly, true religion in the progress of it, trans
forms those minds in which it reigns from glory to
glory : it goes on and prospers in bringing all ene
mies in subjection under their feet, in reconciling
the minds of men fully to God ; and it instates
them in a firm possession of the supreme good.

478 THE EXCELLENCY AND
This is the seed of God within holy souls, which is
always warring against the seed of the serpent, till
it prevail over it, through the divine strength and
influence. Though hell may open her mouth wide
and without measure, yet a true Christian, in whom
the seed of God remaineth, is in a good and safe
condition ; he finds himself borne up by an almigh
ty arm, and carried upwards as upon eagle's wings ;
and the evil one hath no power over him, or, as St.
John expresseth it, o Hovri^og oux, uvrerai uurpu, " the
evil one toucheth him not."*

CHAP. XI.

5. The excellency qf religion in regard qf its term and end, viz.
Perfect blessedness. How unable we are in this state to compre
hend and describe the full and perfect state qf happiness and
glory to come. The more godlike a Christian is, the better may
he understand that stale. Holiness and happiness not two dis
tinct things, but two several notions of one and the same thing.
Heaven cannot so well be defined by any thing without us, as by
something within us. The great nearness and affinity between
sin and hell. The conclusion qf this treatise, containing a serious
exhortation to a diligent minding of religion, with a discovery of
the vanity qf those pretences which keep men off from minding
religion.
5. W E come now to the fifth and last particular,
viz. The excellency qf religion in the term and end
of it, which is nothing eke but blessedness itself in its
* 1 John v. 18.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 479
full maturity. Wliich yet I may not here under
take to explain, for it is altogether appnrov ri, nor
can it descend so low as to accommodate itself to
any human style. Accordingly St. John tells us,
" it does not yet appear what we shall be ;" and
yet that he may give us some glimpse of it, he
points us out to God, and tells us, opowi aurZ lo-fy&gSa,
" we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he
is."* Indeed the best way to get a discovery of it,
is to endeavour as much as may be to be godlike,
to live in a, feeling converse with God, and in a
powerful exercise and expression of all godlike dis
positions : so shall our inner man be best enabled
" to know the breadth and length, the depth and
height of that love and goodness which yet pass
eth all knowledge."! There is a state of perfection
in the life to come, so far transcendent to any in this
Hfe, as that we are not able from hence to take the
just proportions of it, or to form a full and com
prehensive notion of it. We are unable to com
prehend the vastness and fulness of that happiness
which the most purified souls may be raised to, or
to apprehend how far the mighty power and
strength of the Divinity, deriving itself into created
being, may communicate a more transcendent life
and blessedness to it. We know not what latent
powers our souls may here contain within them
selves, which then may begin to open and dilate
themselves, to let in the full streams of the divine
goodness when they come nearly and intimately to
converse with it ; or how blessedness may act upon
those faculties of our minds which we now have.
* 1 John iii. 2. f Rom. xi. 33. Eph. iii. 18, 19.

480 THE EXCELLENCY AND
We know not what illapses and irradiations there
may be from God upon souls in glory, that may
raise them into a state of perfection surpassing all
our imaginations.
As for corporeal happiness, there cannot be any
thing further added to the pleasure of our bodies
or animal part, than a restoring it from disturbing
passion and pain, to its just and natural constitu
tion ; and therefore some philosophers have well
disputed against the opinion of the Epicureans who
make happiness to consist in bodily pleasure, Sri
irolXaifkaciiov 'i%u to Xtunjgov icgoi\you\kivov and when
the molestation is gone, and the just constitution
of nature recovered, pleasure ceaseth. But the
highest pleasure of minds and spirits does not only
consist in the relieving of them from any ante
cedent pains or grief, or in a relaxation from some
former molesting passion : neither is their happi
ness a mere Stoical aragafy'a' as the happiness of the
Deity is not a mere negative thing, rendering it
free from all disturbance or molestation, so that it
may eternally rest quiet within itself; it does not
so much consist in quiete, as in actu et vigore. A
mind and spirit is too full of activity and energy,
is too quick and potent a thing to enjoy a full and
complete happiness in a mere cessation ; this were
to make happiness a heavy spiritless thing. The
philosopher hath well observed, that r£ uhjOivS aya6a
auveariv r\ ukydivij rjhov)i, there is infinite power and
strength in divine joy, pleasure, and happiness, com
mensurate to that almighty Being and goodness
who is the eternal source of it.
As created beings, that are capable of conversing
with God, stand nearer to God or further off from

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 481
him ; and as they partake more or less of his like
ness, so they partake more or less of that happiness
which flows forth from him, and God communicates
himseU" in different degrees to them. There may j
be as many degrees of sanctityjandj^erfection, as I
there are of states and conditions of creatures : and i
that is properly sanctity which guides and orders
all the faculties and actions of any creature in a
way suitable and correspondent to that -rank and
state which God hath placed it in : and while it
doth so, it admits no sin or defilement to itself,
though yet it may be elevated and advanced higher ;
and accordingly, true positive sanctity comes to be
advanced higher and higher, as any creature comes
more to partake ofthe Hfe of God, and to be brought
into a nearer conjunction with God : and so the
sanctity and happiness of innocency itself might
have been perfected.
Thus we see how true reHgion carries up the
souls of good men above the black regions of heU
and death. This indeed is the great airoxaraxtraaig
of souls, it is reHgion itself^ or a real participation
of God and his holiness, which is their true resti
tution and advancement. All that happiness which
good men shaU be made partakers of, as it cannot
be borne up upon any other foundation than true
goodness and a godlike nature within them ; so
neither is it distinct from it. Sin and heU are so
twined and twisted up together, that if the power
of sin be once dissolved, the bonds of death and
hell wiU also fall asunder. Sin and hell are of the
same kind, of the same lineage and descent : as on
the other side, true holiness or religion, and true
happiness are but two several notions of one thing,
3 p

482 THE EXCELLENCY AND
rather than distinct in themselves. BeMgiga^ dfis*.
liversus from hell by instating us in a possession, of
true life and bliss. Hell is rather a nature, .Jthajjj^
place : and heaven cannot be so truly defined by
any* thing without us, as by something that is
vvithin us.""
Thus have we done with those particulars, where
in we considered the' excellency and nobleness of
religion, which is here expressed by O^rr rnk " The
way of Hfe," and elsewhere is styled by Solomon
ovvrj XV " A tree of life:" true religiqnjbejag an
inward principle of life, of a divine life, the best
life, that which is life most properly so called : ac
cordingly, in the holy Scripture, a life of religion is
styled life, as a life of sin and wickedness is styled
death. In the ancient academical philosophy it
was much disputed, whether that corporeal and
animal life, which was always drawing down the soul
into terrene and material things, was not more pro
perly to be styled death than life. What sense
hereof the Pythagoreans had, may appear by this
practice of theirs ; they Were wont to set up ztvora'-
pa empty coffins in the places of those that had
forsaken their school, and degenerated from their
philosophy and good precepts, as being apostates
from Hfe itself, and dead to virtue and a good life,
which is the true life, and therefore fit only to be
reckoned among the dead.
For a conclusion of this discourse ; the use which
we shaU make of all shall be this, to awaken and
exhort every one to a serious minding of reHgion :
as Solomon doth earnestly exhort every one to seek
after true wisdom, which is the same with religion
and holiness, as sin is with folly ; " Get wisdom,

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 483
get understanding ;"* and " Get wisdom, and
with aU thy getting get understanding. Wisdom
is the principal thing."! This is the sum of all,
" the conclusion of the whole matter, Fear God,
and keep his commandments; for this is the
whole duty," business and concernment " of man."t
Let us not trifle away our time and opportunities
which God hath given us, wherein we may lay hold
upon Hfe and immortaHty, in doing nothing, or else
pursuing hell and death. Let us awake out of our
vain dreams ; wisdom caUs upon us, and offers us
the hidden treasures of life and blessedness : let us
not perpetually deHver ourselves over to laziness
and slumbering. Say not, " There is a lion in the
way ;" say not, though reHgion be good, yet it is
unattainable : no, but let us intend all our powers
in a serious resolved pursuance of it, and depend
upon the assistance of heaven, which never fails
those that soberly seek for it. It is indeed the le
vity of men's spirits, their heedlessness and regard-
lessness of their own lives, that betrays them to sin
and death. It is the general practice of men au-
roo-xpSidfyiv tov (3iov, extempore vivere, as the satyrist
speaks; they ordinarily ponderate and deliberate
upon every thing more than how it becomes them
to live, they so live as if their bodies had swallowed
up their souls : their Hves are but a kind of lottery :
the principles by which they are guided are nothing
else but a confused multitude of fancies rudely
jumbled together. Such is the life of most men,
it is but a mere casual thing acted over at perad
venture, without any fair and calm debates held
* Prov. iv. 5. + Ibid- ver- 7' ' Ecc"es- *"• I3-

484 THE EXCELLENCY AND
either with religion, or with reason, which in itself,
as it is not distorted and depraved by corrupt men,
is a true friend to religion, and directs men to God,
and to things good and just, pure, lovely, and
praiseworthy ; and the directions of this inward
guide we are not to neglect. Unreasonableness,
or the smothering and extinguishing the candle of
the Lord within us, is no piece of religiori, nor ad
vantageous to it : that certainly will not raise men
up to God, which skiks them below men. There
had never been such an apostasy from religion, nor
had such a mystery of iniquity, full of deceivable-
ness and imposture, been revealed and wrought so
powerfully in the souls of some men, had there not
first come an apostasy from sober reason, had there
not first been a falling away and departure from
natural truth.
It is to be feared our nice speculations about a
ro Ip1 Yi\uv in theology, have tended more to exercise
men's wits than to reform their lives, and that they
have too much descended into their practice, and
have tended rather to take men off from minding
religion, than to quicken them up to a diligent
seeking after it. Though the powers of nature
may now be weakened, and though we cannot pro
duce a living form of religion in our own souls ; yet
we are not surely so resolved into a sluggish pas
siveness, as that we cannot, or were not in any
kind or manner of way to seek after it. Certainly
a man may as well read the Scriptures as study a
piece of Aristotle, or of natural philosophy, or ma
thematics. He that can observe any thing comely
and commendable, or unworthy and base, in another
man, may also reflect upon himself, and see how

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 485
" face answers to face,"* as Solomon speaks. If
men would seriously commune with their hearts,
their own consciences would tell them plainly, that
they might avoid and omit more evil than they do,
and that they might do more good than they do :
and that they do" not put forth that power which
God hath given them, nor faithfully use those ta
lents, nor improve the advantages and means afford
ed them.
I fear the ground of most men's misery will prove
to be a second faU, and a lapse upon a lapse. I
doubt GodwUT not allow that proverb, " The
fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's
teeth are set on edge,"t as not in respect of tem
poral misery, much less wUl he allow it in respect
of eternal. It wUl not be so much because our
first parents incurred God's displeasure, as because
we have neglected what might have been done by
us afterwards, in order to the seeking of God's j
face and favour, while he might be found.
Up then and be doing, and the Lord will be
with us. He will not leave us nor forsake us, if we
seriously set ourselves about the work. Let us
endeavour to acquaint ourselves with our own lives,
and the true rules of life, with this which Solomon
here calls " the way of Hfe :" let us inform our
minds, as much as may be, in the excellency and
loveliness of practical religion ; that, beholding it
in its own beauty and amiableness, we may the
more sincerely close with it. As there would need
nothing else to deter and affright men from sin but
its own ugliness and deformity, were it presented
» Prov. xxvii. 19. t Ezek' xviu- 2-

486 THE EXCELLENCY AND
to a naked view and seen as it is ; so nothing would
more effectually commend religion to the minds of
men, than the displaying and unfolding the excel
lencies of its nature, than the true native beauty
and inward lustre of religion itself : ou$ eWsgoj, oM
luog ourco Suupaorog' neither the evening nor the
morning star could so sensibly commend themselves
to our bodily eyes, and delight them with their
shining beauties, as true_ religion, whichvs an un
defiled beam of the uncreated Hght, would to a mind
capable of conversing with it. Religion, which
is the true wisdom, is, as the author of the book
of Wisdom speaks of wisdom, "a pure influence
flowing from the glory of the Almighty, the bright
ness of the everlasting light, the unspotted mirror
of the power of God, and the image of his good
ness : she is more beautiful than the sun, and above
all the order of stars ; being compared with the
Hght, she is found before it."*
j Religion is no such austere, sour, and rigid thing,
i as_to_aflngELmen away_frQiJait ': no, bu±„thcise.lhat
[are acquainted with . the power of it, Jaid.it_to^be
/altogether sweet and anriajble. A holy soul sees so
j much of the glory of religion in the lively impres-
| sions which it bears upon itself as both woos and
wins it. We may truly say concerning religion to
: such souls, as St. Paul spake to the Corinthians,
\ " Needs it any epistles of commendation to you ?"
/ Needs it any thing to court your affections ? " Ye
.are indeed its epistle, written not with ink, but with
/the Spirit of the living God."t
Religion is not Hke the prophet's roll, sweet as
* Wisd. vii. 25. &c. f 2 Cor. iii. 2, 3.

NOBLENESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 487
honey, when it was in his mouth, but as bitter as
gaU in his belly. Religion is no sullen Stoicism, no
sour Pharisaism ; it does not consist in a few
1meTalicTibTy~"passions, in some dejected looks orj
depressions of mind: but it consists in freedom,!
loye^ jDeace, life, and power ; the more it comes to
be digested^lrito* our lives, the more sweet and
lovely we shall find it to be. Those spots and
wrinkles which corrupt minds think they see in the
face of religion, are indeed nowhere else but in
their own deformed and misshapen apprehensions.
It is no wonder when a defiled fancy comes to be
the glass, if you have an unlovely reflection. Let
us therefore labour to purge our own souls from all
worldly pollutions ; let us breathe after the aid and
assistance of the divine Spirit, that it may irradiate
and enlighten our minds, that^we may be able to
see diyine things, in a ^divine light : let us endeavour
to live more in a real practice of those rules of
religious and holy living, commended to us by our
ever-blessed Lord and Saviour : so we shall know
religion better, and knowing it, love it, and loving
it, be stUl more and more ambitiously pursuing after
it, till we come to a full attainment of it, and
therein of our own perfection and everlasting
bUss.

CHRISTIAN'S
CONFLICTS AND CONQUESTS;*
OR
A DISCOURSE
CONCERNING
THE DEVIL'S ACTIVE ENMITY AND CONTINUAL HOSTILITY
AGAINST MAN.  THE WARFARE OF A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
THE CERTAINTY OF SUCCESS AND VICTORY IN THIS
SPIRITUAL WARFARE.  THE EVIL AND HOR-
RIDNESS OF MAGICAL ARTS AND RITES,
DIABOLICAL CONTRACTS, &C.

T(*vav, (i crgoffigxy o*ovXeuuv Ke£i'a>, ivoif/.a.o'o-i rriv ^uy^rti ffou tU rrtigtitrftov.
Siracides, Cap. ii. 1.
Tu QojZouf&ivai Kueiov oux, a.iFctvrrio'lt xaxov, aXX' Iv %-eigKtrp.ui xa) iraXiv \\i\{ir%i.
Cap. xxxvi. 1. or, Cap. xxxiii. in Edit. Vulg. Lat. &c.
Excubandum est, fratres dUectissimi, atque omnibus viribus elaborandum, ut
inimico smvienti, et jacula sua in omnes corporis partes, quibus percuti et
vulnerari possumus, dirigenti, sollicitd -et plena, vigilantia repugnemus —
Quamobrem contra omnes diaboli vel fallaces insidias vel apertas ininas stare
debet instructus animus et armalus, tam paratus semper ad repugnandum
quam est ad impugnandum semper paratus inimicus.
Cvprianus de Zelo et Livore.

* See Epistle to the Reader, page xxvii.

S Q.

CHRISTIAN'S
CONFLICTS AND CONQUESTS,
REPRESENTED IX A DISCOURSE UPON
James, iv. 7.
Resist tke devil, and ke will Jlee from you.

CHAP. I.
The introduction, summarily treating qf the perpetual enmity
between God, the principle of good, and the principle qf evil,
the devil: as also between whatsoever is from God, and that
which is from the devil. That wicked men, by destroying what
there is from God within them, and divesting themselves qf all
that which hath any alliance to God or true goodness, and trans
forming themselves into the diabolical image, fit themselves for
correspondence and converse with the devil. The fears and
horrors which infest both the apostate spirits and wicked men.
The weakness of the devil's kingdom ; Christ's success against
it.
IT hath been an ancient tradition received by the
GentUe philosophers, that there are two main prin
ciples that spend and spread their influence through
the whole universe : the one they called the prin
ciple qf good, the other they called the principle of
evil : and that these two maintain a continual con-

492 A CHRISTIAN'S CONFLICTS
test and an enmity the, one with the other. The
principle of goodness, which is nothing else but God
himself, who derived himself in clear and lovely
stamps and impressions of beauty and goodness
through the whole creation, endeavours still to
assimUate and unite it to himself. And, on the
other side the principle of evil, the prince of dark
ness, having once stained the original beauty and
glory of the divine workmanship, is continuaUy
striving to mould and shape it more and more into
his own likeness. And as there is such a perpetual
and active enmity between God and the evil spirit :
so whatsoever is from God is perpetually opposing
and warring against that which arises from the
devil. The divine Goodness hath put enmity
between whatsoever is born of him, or flows forth
from itself, and the seed of the serpent. As at
the beginning he divided between the night and
the day, between light and darkness, so that they
can never intermingle or comply one with another,
or be reconciled one to the other : so neither can
those beams of divine light and love which descend
from God upon the souls of men, be ever reconciled
to those foul and filthy mists of sin and darkness
which ascend out of the bottomless pit of hell
and death. That spirit is not from God, " who is
the Father of lights, and in whom there is no dark
ness," as the apostle speaks, which endeavours to
compound with hell, and to accommodate between
God and the devil. God himself hath set the
bounds to darkness and the shadow of death.
Divine truth and goodness cannot contract them
selves with any thing that is from hell, or espouse
themselves to any brat of darkness : as it was set

AND CONQUESTS. 493
forth in the emblem under the old law, where none
of the holy seed might marry with the people of
any strange god. Though that rule, " Touch not,
taste not, handle not," be abolished in the symbol
ical rites, yet it hath an immutable mystery in it,
not subject to the laws or changes of time.
He that will entertain any correspondence with
the devil, or receive upon his soul his image or the
number of his name, must first divest and strip him
self of all that which hath any alliance to God or
true goodness within him : he must tranform his
mind into the true likeness and similitude of those
foul fiends of darkness, and abandon all relation to
the highest and supremest good. And yet though
some men endeavour to do this, and to smother all
those impressions of light and reason which God
hath folded up in every man's being, and destroy
all that which is from God within them, that so they
may reconcile themselves to sin and hell ; yet can
they never make any just peace with them : " There
is no peace to the wicked, but they are Hke the
troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters cast
up mire and dirt."* Those evil spirits are always
turbulent and restless ; and though they maintain
continually a war with God and his kingdom, yet
are they always making disquietings and disturb
ances in their own kingdom ; and the more they
contest with God and are deprived of him, the more
full are they of horror and tumultuous commotions
within. Nothing can stand firm and sure, nothing
can have any true and quiet, establishment, that
hath not the everlasting arms of true goodness
» Isa. lvii. 20, 21.

494 a christian's conflicts
under it to support it. And as those that deUver
over themselves most to the devU's pleasure,' and
devote themselves to his service, cannot do it with
out a secret inward antipathy against him, or dread
ful thoughts of him ; so neither can those impure
spirits stand before the divine glory; but being
filled with trembling and horror, continually endea
vour to hide themselves from it, and flee away be
fore it as the darkness flies away before the light.
And according as God hath in any places, in any
ages of the world, made any manifestations of him
self to men, so have those evil spirits been van
quished, and forced to quit their former territories ;
as is especially very observable in the ceasing of all
the Grecian oracles soon after the gospel was pro-
mulged in those parts, when those desolate spirits,
with horrid and dismal groans, resigned up their
habitations, as Plutarch hath recorded of them.
Our Saviour hath found by good experience, how
weak a thing the devil's kingdom is, when he " spoil
ed aU the principalities and powers of darkness,
and made a show of them openly, triumphing over
them in (or, by) it,"* that is, his cross, as the
apostle speaks : and if we wiU resolutely foUow
" the Captain of our salvation," and fight under his
banner, " as good soldiers of Jesus Christ," we have
fuU security given us for the same success ; " Re
sist the devil, and he wiU flee from you."
• Col. ii. 15.

AND CONQUESTS. 49>5

CHAP. II.
The first observable, That the devU is continually busy with us.
The devil considered under a double notion. 1 . As an apostate
spirit which fell from God. The great danger qf the devil's
activity, not only when he presents himself in some corporeal
shape, but when he is unseen and appears not. The weakness
and folly qf those who are afraid qf him only when he appears
imbodied. That the good Spirit qf God is active for the good qf
souls. How regardless men are qf the gentle motions qf the di
vine Spirit ; and how unwatchful and secure under the sugges
tions qf the evil spirit. How we may discover the devil in his
stratagems, and tinder his several disguises and appearances.
AN these words, " Resist the devil, and he will
flee from you," we shall take notice first of what is
evidently implied, viz. That the devil is continually
busy with us. This may be considered under a
double notion.
1. By the devil, we are to understand that apos
tate spirit which fell from God, and is always de
signing to hale down others from God also. The
old dragon, mentioned in the Revelation, with his
tail drew down the third part of the stars of heaven
and cast them to the earth.* As true goodness is
not content to be happy alone ; so neither can sin
and wickedness be content to be miserable alone.
The evil spirit told God himself what his employ
ment was, viz. " To go to and fro in the earth, and
to walk up and down in it :"t he is always walking
up and down " through dry places," (where no di
vine influences fall to water it) as our Saviour
speaks, " seeking rest,"t though always restless.
* Rev. xii., 4. f Job i. 7. { Matt. xii. 43.

496 a christian's conflicts
The philosophy of the ancients hath observed, that
every man that comes into this world hath a good
and an evil genius attending upon him. It were
perhaps a vain curiosity to inquire whether the
number of evil spirits exceed the number of men :
but this is too, too certain, that we never want the
secret and latent attendance of them. The devil
is not only a word or a name made to affright and
scare timorous men with ; neither are we then only
in danger of him, when he presents himself to us
in some corporeal form : it is nothing else but a
superstitious weakness to be afraid of him only then
when he appears imbodied, and to neglect that un
seen and insensible influence which his continual
converse with us as an unbodied spirit may have
upon us. Those evil spirits are not yet cast out of
the world into outer darkness, though it be prepar
ed for them : the bottomless pit hath not yet shut
its mouth upon them. They fell from God not so
much by a local descent, as by a mental apostasy
and dissimilitude to God: and they are now in
libera custodia, having aU this habitable world for
their rendezvous, and are styled by the apostle
" spiritual wickednesses in high places."* Where-
sover there are any in a disposition to sin against
God, wheresoever there are any capable of a temp
tation or diabolical impression, here and there are
they. A man needs not dig into the chambers of
death, or search among the shadows of darkness to
find them ; he needs not go down into hell to seek
them, or use any magical charms to, raise them up
from thence : no, those wicked and impure spirits
* Eph. vi. 12.

and conquests. , 497
are always wandering up and down amongst us,
seeking whom they may devour. As there is a
good spirit conversant in the world* inviting and
aUuring men to virtue and goodness ; so there is
an evil spirit, perpetually tempting and enticing
men to sin and vice. Unclothed and unbodied
natures may converse with us by secret illapses,
while we are not aware of them. I doubt not but
there are many more divine impressions made upon
the minds of men, both good and bad, from the
good Spirit of God, than are ordinarily observed ;
there are many soft and silent impulses, gentle mo
tions, like our Saviour's " putting in his hand by
the hole of the door,"* as it is in the Canticles,
soliciting and exciting men to reHgion and holiness ;
which they many times regard not, and take Httle
notice of.
There are such secret messages often brought
from heaven to the souls of men by an unknown
and unseen hand, as the Psalmist speaks ; " Once,
yea twice have I heard it, that power belongeth
unto God."f And as there are such divine irra
diations sliding into the souls of men from God :
so there are, no question, many and frequent sug
gestions to the fancies and imaginations of men
arising from the evil spirit; and a watchful observer
of his own heart and life shall often hear the voice
of wisdom and the voice of foUy speaking to him :
he that hath his eyes opened, may see both the
visions of God falling upon him, and discern the
false and foolish fires of Satan that would draw
away his mind from God. This is our unhappiness,

* Cant. v. 4. f Psal- l»i.IL
5 R

498 a christian's conflicts
that the devil is so near us and we see him not ; he
is conversant with us, and yet we are not aware of
him. Those are the most desperate designs and
likeliest to take effect, that are carried on by an
unseen and unappearing enemy : and if we wul
provide ourselves against the devU, who never
misseth any opportunity that lies in his way to
tempt us, nor is ever failing in any plot, we must
then have our senses exercised to discern both good
and evil ; we must get our minds awakened with
clear and evident principles of light ; we must get
our judgments and consciences well informed with
sober and practical truth, such as tends to make us
most Hke to God, and to reconcile our natures
more perfectly to divine goodness. Then shall we
know and discover that apostate spirit in all his
stratagems, whereby he seeks to bereave us of our
happiness : we shaU know him as well when he
clothes himself like an angel of light, as when he
appears in his own nakedness and deformity. It
is observed by some, that God never suffered the
devU to assume any human shape, but with some
character whereby his body might be distinguished
from the true body of a man : and surely the devU
cannot so exactly counterfeit an angel of light, but
that by a discerning mind he may be distinguished
from him ; as they say a beggar can never, act a
prince so cunningly, but that his behaviour some
time sliding into the course way and principles of
his education, will betray the meanness of his
pedigree to one of a true noble extraction. A
bare imitation will always fall short of the copy
from whence it is taken ; and though sin and error
may take up the mantle of truth and clothe them-

AND CONQUESTS. 499
selves with it, yet he that is inwardly acquainted
with truth, and an ingenuous lover and pursuer of
it, wUl be able to find out the imposture, he wUl be
able to see through the vail into the naked de
formity of them.

CHAP. III.

2. Of the activity qf the devil considered as a spirit qf apostasy,
and as a degenerate nature in men. That the devil is not only
the name qf one particular thing, but a nature. The difference
between the devil and wicked men is rather the difference qf a
name than qf natures. The kingdom and tyranny qf the devil
and hell is chiefly within, in the qualities and dispositions qf
men's minds. Men are apt to quarrel with the devil in the name
and notion, and defy him with their tongues, while they entertain
him in their hearts, and comply with all that which the devil is.
The vanity qf their pretended love to God, and hatred ofthe
devil. That there is nothing better than God himself, for which
we should love him ; and to love him for his own beauty and
excellency is the best way of loving him. That there is nothing
worse than sin itself, foi- which we should hate it ; and to hate
it for its own deformity is the truest way of hating it. How
hell and misery arises from within men. Why wicked men are
so insensible of their misery in this life.
2. VV HEN we say, the devil is continuaUy busy
with us, I mean not only some apostate spirit as
one particular being, but that spirit of apostasy
which is lodged in aU men's natures ; and this may
seem particularly, to be aimed at in this place, if we
observe the context: as the Scripture speaks of

500 a christian's conflicts
Christ not only as a particular person, but as a
divine principle in holy souls.
Indeed the devil is not "only the name of one
particular thing,, but a nature : he is not so much
one particular being designed to .torment wicked
men in the world to come, as a hellish and diabo
lical nature seated in the minds of men. He is
not only one apostate spirit fallen down from heaven
out of the lap of blessedness ; but also a spirit of
apostasy, a degenerate and depraved nature. Could
the devil change his foul and impure nature, he
would neither be a devil nor miserable : and so
long as any man carries about him a sinful and
corrupt nature, he can neither be in perfect favour
with God, nor blessed. Wickedness is the form
and entelech of aU the wicked spirits : it is the dif
ference of a name, rather than any proper difference
of natures that is between the devil and wicked
men. Wheresoever we see malice, revenge, pride,
envy, hatred, self-will, and self-love, we may say
here, and there is that evil spirit. This indeed is
that venenum serpentis, the poison and sting too of
that diabolical nature. As the kingdom of heaven
is riot so much without men as within, as our Sa
viour tells us : so the tyranny of the devil and heU
is not so much in some external things, as in the
quaUties and dispositions of men's minds. And as
the enjoying of God and conversing with him con-_
sists not so much lii "a~ cbange of place, as in the
p¥ffi"cTpaff6n of the divine Mature, aridTn" bur ^assi
milation unto God : so our conversing with tine
devil is not so much by a mutual local presence, as
by an imitation of a wicked and sinful nature
derived upon men's own souls. Therefore the

AND conquests. 501
Jews were wont to style that original pravity that
is lodged in men's spirits .—ran ikS» 'the angel of
death' and fiend of darkness. Those filthy lusts
and corruptions which men foment and entertain
in their minds, are the noisome yapours that ascend
Out of the bottomless pit ; they are the thick mists
and fogs of hellish darkness arising in their souls,
as a preface and introduction of hell and death
within. Where we find uncleanness, intemperance,
covetousness, or any such impure or unhallowed
behaviour, we may say, Here Satan's throne is.
This sinful and corrupt nature being the true
issue of hell itself, is continually dragging down
men's souls thither. All sin and wickedness in
man's spirit hath the central force and energy of
hell in it, and is perpetually pressing down towards
it, as towards its own place. There needs no fatal
necessity or astral impulses to tumble wicked men
down forcibly into hell : no, for sin itself, hastened
by the mighty weight of its' own nature, carries
them down thither with the most swift and head
long motion. As they say of true holiness and
Christianity, Christi sarcina pennas habet, Christ's
burden, which is nothing else but true godliness, is
a winged thing, and bravely bears itself upwards
upon its own wings soaring aloft towards God : so
we may say of all impiety, diaboli sarcina pondus
habet; the devUish nature is always within the
central attractions of hell, and its own weight
instigates and accelerates its motion thither. He
that allows himself in any sin, or useth an unna
tural dalliance with any vice, does nothing else in
reality than entertain an incubus dcemon ; he pros
titutes a wanton soul, and forceth it to commit

502 a christian's conflicts
lewdness with the devil himself. Sin is nothing
better than a brat of darkness and deformity ; it
hath no other extraction or pedigree than may be
derived from those unclean spirits that are nestled in
hell. All men in reality converse either with God
or with the devil, and walk in the confines either of
heaven or of hell : they have their fellowship either
with the Father and the Son, as St. John speaks ;*
or else with the apostate and evU angels.
I know these expressions will seem to some very
harsh and unwelcome : but I would beseech them
to consider what they will call that spirit of malice*
and envy, that spirit of pride, ambition, vain-glory,
covetousness, injustice, uncleanness, &c. that com
monly reigns so much, and acts so violently in the
minds and lives of men. Let us speak the truth,
and call things by their own names ; let us not flat
ter ourselves, or paint our filthy sores: so much as
there is of sin in any man, so much there is of the
old man, so much there is of the diabolical nature.
Why do we defy the devil so much with our tongues,
while we entertain him in our hearts ? But indeed
men do but quarrel with him in the name and no
tion of him, while yet their hearts can readily com
ply with all that which the devil is : that antipathy
which is ordinarily expressed against him, like those
natural antipathies which the phUosophers speak
of, being nothing else but occult qualities, or natu
ral instincts, which as they arise not from any prin
ciple of reason or understanding, so neither are
they guided or governed by it. As men's love to
God is ordinarily nothing else but the mere ten-
* 1 John i. 8.

AND CONQUESTS. 503
dency of their natures to something that hath the
notion or name of God put upon it, without any
clear or distinct apprehensions of him ; so their ha
tred of the devil is commonly nothing else but an
inward displacency of nature against something en
titled by the devil's name. Or else at best, corrupt
minds do nothing else but fashion out a God and
a devil, a heaven and a hell, to themselves, by the
power of their own fancies : and so they are to them
nothing else but their own creatures, sustained and
supported by the force of their own imaginations
which first raised them. And as they commonly
make a god like to themselves, such a one as they
can best comply with and love ; so they make a
devil most unlike to themselves, which may be any
thing but what they themselves are, that so they
may most freely spend their anger and hatred upon
him : just as they say of some of the Ethiopians,
who used to paint the devU white, because they
themselves are black. This is a strange merry kind
of madness, whereby men sportingly bereave them
selves of the supremest good, and insure them
selves, as much as may be, to hell and misery : they
may thus cheat themselves for awhile, but the -eter
nal foundation of the divine being is immutable and
unchangeable. God is but " one, and his name
one,"* as the prophet speaks, howsoever the several
fancies of men may shape him out diversely ; and
where we find wisdom, justice, loveliness, goodness,
love and glory, in their highest elevations and most
unbounded dimensions, that is he : and where we
find any true participations of these, there is a true
* Zech. xiv. 9.

504 a christian's conflicts
communication of God ; and a defection from these
is the essence of sin and the foundation of hell.
Now, if this be rightly considered, I hope there
wiU appear an argument strong enough', from the
thing itself, to enforce St. James' exhortation, " re
sist the devU :" endeavour to mortify and crucify
the old man'with all the corrupt lusts and affections
of the flesh.
We never so truly hate sin, as when we hate it
for its own ugliness and deformity : as we never
love God so truly, as when we love him for his own
beauty and excellency. If we calculate aright, as
we shall find nothing better than God himself, for
which we should love him ; so neither shall we find
any thing worse than sin itself, for which we should
hate it. Our assimilation to God and conformity
to him, instates us in a firm possession of true hap
piness, which is nothing else but God himself, who
is aU being and blessedness ; and our dissimilitude
to God and apostasy from him, involves us in our
own misery, and sets us at the greatest enmity to
what our unsatiable desires most of all crave for,
which is the enjoyment of true and satisfying good.
Sins are those fiery snakes which will eternally lash
and torment all damned spirits. Every man's hell
arises from the bottom of his own soul ; as those
stinking mists and tempestuous exhalations that in
fest the earth, have their first original from the
earth itself. Those streams of fire and brimstone
ordained for the torment of all damned spirits, are
rather the exudations of their own filthy and cor
rupt nature, than any external thing. HeU is not
so much induced, as educed out of men's filthy
lusts and passions. I will not here dispute what

AND CONQUESTS. 505
external appendixes there may be of heaven or hell ;
but methinks I no where find a more graphical des
cription of the true properties and operations of
them, though under other names, than in those
characters of the " flesh and spirit."* Eternal
death is begotten and brought forth out of the
womb of lust, and is little else but sin consummated
and in its fuU growth, as St. James intimates.t
Would wicked men dwell a little more at home,
and descend into the bottom of their own hearts,
they should soon find hell opening her mouth wide
upon them, and those secret fires of inward fury
and displeasure breaking out upon them, which
might fuUy inform them of the estate of true
misery, as being a short anticipation of it. But in
this life wicked men for the most part elude their
own misery for a time, and seek to avoid the dread
ful sentence of their own consciences, by a tergi
versation and flying from themselves into a con
verse with other things, ut nemo in sese tentat des-
cendere ; else they would soon find their own home
too hot for them. But while men's minds are per
petually rambling all the world over in a pursuit of
worldly designs, they are unacquainted with the af
fairs of their own souls ; and know not how deeply
a self-Converse and reflection upon their own prodi
gious deformities would pierce their souls with an
guish : how vastly would they swell with fury, rage,
horror, consternation, and whatsover is contrary to
that ineffable light, and love, and peace which is in
heaven, in natures fully reconciled and united to
true goodness ? As true goodness cannot borrow
* Gal. v. 19—23. t James i. IS.

506 A christian's conflicts
beauty from any external thing to recommend itself
to the minds and affections of good men, seeing it
self is the very idea and true Hfe of all beauty and
perfection, the source of bliss and peace to all that
partake of her : so neither can sin and wickedness
to an enlightened soul appear more ugly, loathsome
and hateful, in any other shape than its own.

CHAP. IV.

The second observable, viz. The warfare of a Christian life.
True religion consists not in a merepassive capacity and sluggish
kind qf doing nothing, nor in a melancholy sitting still or sloth
ful waiting, cfc. but ii consists in inward life and power, vigour
and activity. A discovery qf the dulness and erroneousness qf
that hypothesis, viz. That good men are wholly passive, and
unable at any time to move without some external impetus, some
impression and impulse from without upon them : or, that all
motions in religion are from an external principle. Of the
quality and nature qf the true spiritual warfare, and qf the
manner and method of it. That it is transacted upon the inner
stage qf men's souls, and managed without noise or pompous ob-
servation ; and without any hinderance or prejudice to the most
peaceful, sedate, and composed temper qf a religious soul. This
further illustrated from the consideration of the false and pre
tended zeal for God and his kingdom, against the devil ; which,
though it be impetuous, and makes a great noise and a fair show
in the world, is yet both impotent and ineffectual.
2. -T ROM these words, " resist the devil," we
may take notice of the warfare qf a Christian life,
of that active life and valour which good men

AND CONQUESTS. 507
express in this world. A true Christian spirit is
njasoUiaejami^enerous ; it is no such poor, slug
gish, pusUlanimous thing as some men fancy it to
be, but active and noble. " We fight not," saith
the apostle, " against flesh and blood, but against
principalities and powers, and spiritual wicked
nesses in high places."* True religion does not
consist in a mere passive capacity, in a sluggish
kind of doing nothing, that so God himself might
do all ; but it consists in life and power within :
therefore it is caUed by the apostle, " The spirit of
power, of love, and of a sound mind ;"t it is called
" the law of the spirit of life," strongly enabling
good men against " the law of sin and death."}:
True wisdom, as the wise man hath weU Styled it,
is " the unspotted mirror of the power of God,
and a pure influence flowing from the glory of the
Almighty ; neither can any defiled thing enter into
it :"§ it goes in and out in the strength of God
himseU"; and " as is the heavenly, such are they
also that are heavenly." || Every thing as it partakes
more of God, and comes nearer to him, so it be
comes more active and lively, as making the nearer
approaches to the fountain of life and virtue. A
good man doth not only then move, when there is
some powerful impression and impulse upon him ;
but he hath a spring of perpetual motion within.
When God^^to^e^s^mg^to^ new and. divine life,*;-
he doth not make them like so many dead instru-
melffSjHifKnglrig and fitting them, which yet" are
able to yield no sound bf themselves ; but he puts

* Eph. vi. 12. f 2 Tim. i. 9. f Rom. viii. 2.
§ Wisd. vii. 26. || 1 Cor. xv. 48.

508 a christian's conflicts
a living harmgny mtiiin theni. That is. but a
"mechanical religion which moves no longer than
some external weights and impulses are upon it,
whether those be, I think I may safely say, from
some worldly thing or from God himself, whUe he
acts upon men from without them, and not from
within them. It is not a melancholy kind of sitting
stiU, and slothful waiting, that speaks men enHvened
by the spirit and power of God. It is not religion
to stifle and smother those active powers and prin
ciples which are within us, or to dry up the fountain
of inward life and virtue. How say some amongst
us, that there is no resurrection from the dead ? no
spirit or Hfe within ; but aU our motions in religion
are merely from some assisting form without ?
Good men do not walk up and down the world
merely like ghosts and shadows, or like dead bodies
assumed by some spirit, which are taken up and
laid, down again by him at his pleasure : hut they
are indeed living men, by a real participation from
him who is. indeed a quickening spirit. Were our
religion so much a thing without us as some men
would seem to fancy it, were we so dead and life
less as that we could never move but from an
external impetus; as ourTeligion could never indeed
be caUed ours, so neither could we ever have the
inward sense of that bliss and peace which goes
along with it ; but must be like so many heavy
logs, or dull pieces of earth, in heaven and happi
ness. That is a very earthly and flat spirit in
religion which sinks like the lees to the bottom ; or
rather it is like that terra damnata which the
Chymists speak of, having no vigour, life, or
activity left in it, is truly dead to God, and is

and conquests. 509
reprobate to any thing of heaven. We know the
pedigree of those exhalations that arise no higher
than a mere external force from the sun's heat
weigheth them up, to be but base and earthly;
and therefore having no natural warmth or energy
within themselves imparted to them, they sink down
again to the earth from whence they came. The
spirit which is from heaven is always, out of an
inbred nobleness which bears it up, carried upwards
again towards heaven from whence it came, power
fully resisting aU things that would deprive it of
God, or hinder it from returning to its original : it
is always moving upwards in an even and steady
way towards God from whence it came, leaving the
dark regions of hell and death under it : it resists
hell and darkness by assimUating and conforming
itself to Gpd ; it resists darkness in the armour of
Hght ; it resists death and destruction by the power
of divine love. It must be something of heaven
in the minds of men, which must resist the devU
and heU.
We do not always " resist the devU" when we
bid defiance to him, or when we declaim most
zealously against him ; neither does our resisting
and opposing of sin and wickedness consist in the
violence of some feminine passions which may
sometimes be raised by the power of fancy in the
minds of men against it : but it consists rather in
a mature and sedate resolution against it in our
own souls, arising from a clear judgment of the foul
and hateful nature of sin itseH; and him who is the
patron of it ; in a constant and serious endeavour
of settling the government of our own souls, and esta
blishing the principality of grace and peace within

510 a christian's conflicts
ourselves. There is a pompous and popular kind
of tumult in the world, which sometimes goes for
zeal to God and his kingdom against the devU;
when men's own pride and passions disguise them
selves under the notions of a religious fervency.
Some men think themselves the greatest champions
for God and his cause, when they can take the
greatest liberty to quarrel with every thing abroad,
and without themselves, which is not shaped ac
cording to the mould of their own opinions, their
own self-will, humour, and interest: whereas indeed
this spiritual warfare is not so much «iaintained
against a foreign enemy, as against those domestic
rebeUions that are within : neither is it then carried
on most successfully, when men make the greatest
noise and most of all raise the dust. That impe
tuous violence and temptuousness with which men
are acted in pretensions of religion, arises ordinarily,
I doubt, from unquiet and disturbed minds within :
whereas it is indeed the inward conflicts and com
motions, sin and vice, and not a holy zeal for God,
which discompose the minds of men. * Sin, where
it is entertained, wUl indeed breed disturbance, and
break the peace of a man's own spirit ; but a true
resisting and opposing of it, is the restoring of the
soul to its just consistency, freedom, and serenity
again. As God's kingdom is set up, so the devil's
kingdom may be pulled down, without the noise of
axes and hammers. We may then attain to the
greatest achievements against the gates of heU and
death, when we most of aU possess our own souls
in patience, and coUect our minds into the most
peaceful, composed, and united temper. The
motions of true practical religion are most like that

and conquests. 514.
of the heavens, which though most swift, is yet
most silent. As grace and true religion is no lazy
or sluggish thing, but in perpetual motion ; so all
the motions of it are soft and gentle : while it acts
most powerfuUy within, it also acts most peacefully.
" The kingdom of heaven comes "not with obser
vation," that men may say, " Lo here, or lo
there ;"* it is not with the devouring fire coming
after it, or a whirlwind going before it. This
fight and contest with sin and Satan is not to be
known by the rattling of the chariots, or the sound
of an alarm : it is indeed alone transacted upon
the inner stage of men's souls and spirits ; and is
rather a pacifying and quieting of all those riots
and tumults raised there by sin and Satan ; it is
rather a reconciling the minds of men to truth,
justice, and holiness ; it is a captivating and sub
jecting all our powers and faculties to God and true
goodness, through the effectual working of a divine
love and humUity : and this resistance is always
attended with victory, and triumph waits upon this
fight ; which is the third and last observation we
shall make upon these words.
* Luke xvii. 20.

512 A christian's conflicts

CHAP. V.
The third observable, viz. The certainty qf success and victory
to all those that resist the devil. This grounded upon 1 . The
weakness ofthe devil and sin considered in themselves. 2. God's
powerful assisting all faithful Christians in this warfare. The
devil may allure and tempt, but cannot prevail, except men con
sent and yield to his suggestions. The deviVs strength lies in
men's treachery and falseness to their own souls. Sin is strong,
because men oppose it weakly. The error qf the Manichees
about a principium mali defended by men in their lives and prac
tices. Of God's readiness to assist Christians in their spiritual
conflicts; his compassionate regards and the more special
respects qf his providence towards them in such occasions. The
conclusion, discovering the evil and horridness qf magic, diabo
lical contracts, SfC.
3. THE certainty qf success to all those that resist
the devil; " Resist the devil, and he will flee from
you." He -cannot stand, when opposed in the
strength of God, he wiU fall down as swift as light
ning ; he cannot bear the glory of God shining in
the souls of men. Here it is no more but stand,
and conquer ; resist, and vanquish.
For first of all, the devil and sin in themselves
considered are but weak and impotent ; they can
not prevail over that soul which yields not to them :
the evil spirit then only prevails over us, when we
ourselves consent to his suggestions ; all his strength
lies in our treachery and falseness to our own souls.
Though those wicked spirits be perpetually so near
us, yet they cannot bow or bend our wills : there
is a place of defence in the souls of men into which
they cannot enter : they may stand at a distance,

AND CONQUESTS. 518
aUure and entice them ; but they cannot prevail
over them, except they wilfully and shamefuUy de
liver over their strength into the enemy's hand. It
is indeed nothing else but hell itself in the souls of
men that gives the devU such free entertainment
there : the wills of men stamped with a diabolical
form, and bearing the devil's image and inscription
upon them, declare his right over them. Men are
therefore so much captivated by him because they
voluntarily take his yoke upon them. Could we,
or would we, resist sin and Satan, they could not
hurt us. Every thing is weak and impotent ac
cording to the distance it stands from God who is
the only fountain of life and power : and therefore
it was well resolved by the philosopher, naaa xaxia
ha abuva^lag <tv(bfiaivu, ' Sin in itself is a weak and im
potent thing, and proceeds from weakness ;' it con
sists not properly in any native power and strength
which it hath within itself, but in an impotency,
and privation of all true being and perfection ; and
therefore wheresover any thing of God appears, it
will destroy it.- He that is born of God, shall over
come the world, the devil, and sin ; for " the seed
of God remaineth in him."*
Let us endeavour to get our minds enlightened
with divine truth, clear and practical truth, let us
earnestly endeavour after a true participation ofthe
divine nature; and then shall we find heU and
death to flee away before us. Let us not impute
the fruits of our own sluggishness to the power of
the evU spirit without, or to God's neglecting of
us : say not, Who shall stand against those mighty
* 1 John iii. 9.
3 T

514 a christian's conflicts
giants ? No ; arm thyself with the mind of Christ,
a fixed resolution to serve the will and pleasure of
the Almighty ; and then fear not what sin and hell
can do against thee. Open thy windows, thou
sluggard, and let in the beams of divine light, that
are there waiting upon thee till thou awake out of
thy slothfulness ; then shalt thou find the shadows
of the night dispelled and scattered, and the warm
beams of light and love infolding thee, which the
higher they arise upon the horizon of thy soul, the
more fully they will display their native strength
and beauty upon thee, transforming thee more and
more from darkness to light, from the similitude of
Satan into a participation of the divine image. The
devU is not to be kept off from us by setting any
spell about us, or driven away from us by any ma
gical charms. We need not go and beat the air to
drive away those evil spirits from about us, as He
rodotus reports the Caunians once to have beaten
out the strange gods . from amongst them : but let
us turn within ourselves, and beat down that pride
and passion, those holds of Satan there, which are
therefore strong, because we oppose them weakly.
Sin is nothing else but a degeneration from true
goodness, conceived by a dark and cloudy under
standing, and brought forth by a corrupt will ; it
hath no consistency in itself, or foundation of its
own to support it. What the Jews have observed
of error, is true of all sin, o^n v? yx -\pa Mendacium
non Jiabet pedes, ' it hath no feet,' no basis of its own
to subsist and rest itself upon. Let us withdraw
our wUl and affections from it, and it will soon fall
into nothing. It was the fond error of the Mani
chees, that there was some solid principium mali,

and conquests. 515
which having an eternal existence of its own, had
also a mighty and uncontrollable power from within
itself, whereby it could forcibly enter and pene
trate into the souls of men ; and seating itself there,
by some hidden influences, irresistibly incline and
inforce them to evil : which error I wish were as
well confuted by the lives and practices of men,
as it hath been by the writings both of fathers and
phUosophers. But it is too apparent that men main
tain that lie by a compliance with the diaboHcal
powers : we ourselves uphold that kingdom of
darkness, which else would tumble down and slide
into that nothing from whence it came. All truth
and goodness are of an eternal nature, they are one,
and unchangeable, subsisting upon the strength of
omnipotency : but all sin and vice is our own crea
ture ; we only give life to them which indeed are
our death, and would soon wither and fade away,
did we substract our concurrence from them.
Secondly. We have a further ground for our ex
pectation of victory in all contests with sin and
Satan, from the powerful assistance of God himself,
who is never wanting to those that seek after him,
and never faUs those that engage in his quarrels.
While we strive against sin, we may safely expect
that the Divinity itself will strive with us, and de
rive that strength and power into us that shall at
last make us more than conquerors. God hath not
forsaken the earth: but as his almighty essence
runs through all things, sustaining and upholding
the frame of the whole universe ; so more especial
ly does it bear up in its almighty arms those things
that are more nearly related to himself, always cher
ishing them with his own goodness. Wheresoever

516 a christian's conflicts ,
God beholds any breathings after himself, he gives
life to them, as those which are his own breath in
them. As he who projects wickedness, shall be
sure to find Satan standing at his right hand ready
to assist him in it : so he that pursues after God and
holiness, shall find God nearer to him than he is to
himself, in the free and liberal communications of
himseU" to him. He that goes out in God's battles,
fighting under our Saviour's banner, may look up
wards, and opening his eyes may see the mountains
full of horses and chariots of fire, round about him.
God hath not so much delight in the death and
destruction of men, as to see them struggling and
contending for life, and himself stand by as a looker
on. No, but with the most tender and fatherly
compassions his bowels yearn over them, and his
almighty arm is stretched forth for them ; and in
his strength they shall prevaU : they shall be born
up, as upon eagles' wings ; they shall walk in the
might of his strength who is able to save, and not
faint. Where there is any serious and sober reso
lution against sin, any real motion towards God,
there is the blessing of heaven in it ; he that plant
ed it, will also water it, and make it to bud and
blossom and bring forth fruit.
Wherefore, to shut up this discourse by way of
application, let us make use of this as a further
argument to enforce the apostle's exhortation upon
ourselves, " Be strong in the Lord and in the power
of his might ;" and, as the Psalmist speaks of his
enemies, so let us say of our spiritual enemies,
" They compass me about, they compass me in on
every side ; but in the name of the Lord I will

AND C ONQUESTS. 517
destroy them."* Let us set ourselves with all our
might to mortify the old man, and to crucify all the
affections of the flesh: " Let us lay aside every
weight, arid the sin which so easily besets us, and
run with patience the race that is set before us ;
looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our
faith, who is set down at the right hand of the
throne of God,"t as a great and mighty conqueror,
who will declare the perfection of his own power
in our weakness, if we lay hold of his strength.
Though we are not able to change our own na
tures, or to rise above the source of our animal and
selfish beings, by our own power ; yet let us endea
vour to subdue all those external vices of luxury and
wantonness, of injustice, revenge, and the like; let
us withdraw the fewel of pride, malice, vain-glory,
and whatsoever else holds us in captivity to hell,
and with confidence apply ourselves to him who
is an almighty Saviour ; and when he joins his
almighty strength with us, we need not fear any
thing: " He shaU tread down Satan under our feet,"
and we shall one day " tread upon the Hon and
adder, the young lion and the dragon shall we
trample under our feet :"t we shall break the ser
pent's head, though he may bruise our heel. Though
God may suffer him so far to serve his own rage
and the heUish malice of such as are in league with
him, as to pull down with violence our earthly taber
nacles ; yet while we so suffer by him, we are con.
querors over him.
I should now conclude all, and leave you with
this general application, but that the present oc,-
* Psal. cxiii. 10. f Heb. xii. 1, 2. t Psal- "ei, 13.

518 a christian's conflicts
casion hath drawn it down for me to a particular
case. Did we not live in a world of professed
wickedness, wherein so many men's sins go in
open view before them to judgment, it might be
thought needless to persuade men to " resist the
devfl," when he appears in his own colours to
make merchandise of them, and comes in a formal
way to bargain with them for their souls ; that
which human nature, however enthralled to sin
and Satan in a more mysterious way, abhors, and
none admit but those who are quite degenerated
from human kind. That which I shall further
add, shall be by way of caution only to suggest
two things which are the forerunners to such
diabolical contracts, and put temptations into the
hands of the tempter.
First. Those helHsh passions of malice, envy,
and revenge, which are the black form and image
of the devil himself; these, when they are once
ripened, fit men for the most formal converse, with
the devil that maybe: that nature cannot easily
abhor him, which is so perfectly conformed to
him. Secondly. The use of any arts, rites, or cere
monies not understood, of which we , can give no
rational or divine account ; this indeed is nothing
else but a kind of magic which the devil himself
owns, and gives life to, though he may not be
corporeally present, or require presently any fur
ther covenant from the users of them. The devU,
no question, is present to all his own rites and
ceremonies, though men discern him not; and
may upon the use of them, secretly produce those
effects which may gain credit to them. Among

AND CONQUESTS. 519
these rites we may reckon insignificant forms of
words, with their several modes and manner of
pronunciation, astrological arts, and whatsoever
else pretends to any strange effects which we
cannot with good reason either ascribe to God
or nature. As God will only be conversed withal
in a way of light and understanding ; so the devil
loves to be coilversed with in a way of darkness
and obscurity.

THE END.

SERMON

PREACHED AT
THE FUNERAL
OF
Mr. JOHN SMITH,
LATE FELLOW OF QUEEn's COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE,
Who departed this life, August 7th, 1662.
AND LIES INTERRED IN THE CHAPEL OF THE SAME COLLEGE.
WITH A
SHORT ACCOUNT
OF HIS
LIFE AND DEATH.
By SIMON PATRICK,
THEN FELLOW OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE.

The memory of the just is blessed, — Prov. x. 7.
3 U

SERMON, $c.

And Elisha saw it, and he cried, My father, my father, the chariot qf Israel,
and tke horsemen thereof. — 2 Kings ii. 12.
VV HEN I saw the blessed spirit of our brother,
shall I say ? or, our father, making haste out of
that body which Hes before us, these words which
I have now read came into my mind : and me-
thought I saw the good genius of this place, which
inspired us with so much sense of learning and
goodness, taking its flight and leaving this lower
world : at whom my soul catched, as 1 fancied
Elisha to have done at Elijah, and I cried out,
" O my father, my father," &c. Desirous I was,
methought, that his aittfitiMig might have been a
little whUe deferred ; that I might have staid the
wheels of" that triumphant chariot wherein he
seemed to be carried ; that we might have kept
him a little longer in this world, till, by his holy
breathings into our souls, and the grace of God,
we had been all made meet to have some share in
that inheritance of the saints in light : and so he

5l24< A SERMON PREACHED
might have gone to heaven with his train, taking
all his friends along with him, as attendants to that
glory and honour wherewith 1 make no doubt he
is crowned. It grieved me in my thoughts that
there should be so many orphans left without a
father, a society left naked without one of her best
guardians and chieftains, her very " chariot and
horsemen ;" unto whose instruction and brave con
duct not a few of us will acknowledge, they owe
much of their skill and abilities. For I do not
fear to say, as Antoninus doth of the best 'man,
that he was hgiug rig xai vvrougyog Qsou, ' a priest or
minister of God, who was very subservient to him
in his great work.' If he was not a prophet like
Elijah, yet I am sure he was woJito tou nviuparog,
as Gr. Nazianzen, I think, speaks of St. Basil, 'an
inteiprete^jfjyheSr^rit/ and very weU acquainted
with his mind ; a man sent down from heaven for
our good, and is now gone thither, from whence he
came, leaving us behind him here, a company of
poor fatherless chUdren, the sons of this prophet,
weeping and crying out, " O my father, my father,
the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof."
Which sad note would have been most fitly sung
just at the ascension of his holy soul : yet give me
leave to descant a while upon it, now that we are
come to inter his body, which was the dark shadow
where that admirable and iUustrious learning, wis
dom, and godliness, walked up and down, and
shone through upon the world.
You wUl easily see at the first glance, that some
thing will here offer itself to be said of Elijah, and
something of EHsha : of Elijah, in that he is called
" father, the chariot and horsemen of Israel ;" of

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 525
EHsha, in that he applies this relation to himself,
saying, " My father, my father."
Concerning Elijah we may observe,
First. His superiority, eminency, and. dignity.
Secondly. His singular care which he took of
others. Thirdly. His great usefulness, or the benefit which
Ms country enjoyed by him.
Concerning Elisha we may observe the expres
sion of three things likewise ;
First. Of his great affection and love.
Secondly. Of the sense he felt of his loss.
Thirdly. Of that honour which he gave him, or
that respect and regard which he had unto him.
I shall speak a little of aU these, and then parallel
our case as well as I can to both.
First. Observe Elijah's eminency, superiority, dig
nity and worth ; which is .both signified in the
word " father," and also in the other expressions,
" the chariot, and horsemen of Israel." The Tal
mudists say of the word Abba, which is near of
kin as can be to this in the text, *ixa -ma yah wn ios
'3"> Abba is a word of honour and glory, even as
Rabbi : whence the Latin Abbas, and our English
Abbot, have been derived to denote the greatest
person in a society. And therefore whom he here
calls father, is called, ver. 3 and 5, " Master, or lord,
knowest thou not that Jehovah wiU take" "p™
" thy lord, or master, from thee to day ?" Elijah
was the head in the body of the prophets, the du%
gregis, a main leading man among the rest. And
this was by reason of his wisdom, experience, and
* Buxtorf. Lux. Talmud.

526 A SERMON PREACHED
gray-headed understanding, expressed in the. word
" father." He was a sage and grave person ; such
a head as was full of prudence, skill, and advice,
wherein were moulded many sober and wise resolu
tions, many weighty and mature determinations,
profound and deep notions, holy and pious counsels
for the teaching of rawer and greener heads. He
was one that did imitate God " the father of all,"
and in some sort represent him here below, being
an oracle among men. And such instruments God
hath always in the world ; men of greater height
and stature than others, whom he sets up as torches
on a hill to give light to all the regions round about ;
men of public and universal influence, like the sun
itself which illuminates all, and is not sparing of its
beams ; men whose souls come into the world, as
the Chaldee oracle speaks,
 rni-iv ieed/j,ivai vow,
' clothed with a great deal of mind,' more impreg
nated than others with divine notions, and having
more teeming wombs to enrich the world with the
fruit of them : men of wide and capacious souls
that can grasp much ; and of enlarged, open hearts,
to give forth that freely unto men which the Tlargi-
xog voug c the fatherly mind,' as the same oracle calls
God, hath given unto them ; that so, in some sort,
they may become fathers in the world, in subordi
nation to God. The Sun of righteousness, Jesus
Christ, is described with " seven stars in his right
hand,"* which were the angels of the churches ;
men (its like) who were adorned and beautified
with, more than ordinary brightness of mind and
* Rev. i. 16.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 527
understanding, and did sparkle with more than com
mon heat of love ancl piety, and did shine as lights
in the world, in the midst of a crooked and per
verse generation. Elijah was such a one ; and so
was the other Elias, John the Baptist, " a burning
and a shining light ;"* and so also shall we find
our father that is deceased to have been.
Secondly. Take notice of the care which Elijah
took of Elisha, and that first as a master of his
scholar, and secondly as a father of his son, or if
you will have both in one, as a fatherly master.
Elisha calls him by this name of father, because he
was his scholar ; and they used commonly to give
this title to their masters or teachers : whence
Pirke Avoth among the Jews, Capitula Patrum,
is a book that contains the wise sayings and apoph
thegms of their doctors. And so IJ argoirugccoorog,
in the New Testament, " that which is received
by tradition from their fathers,"! signifies nothing
else but what their doctors and learned men in the
law delivered to them ; and therefore they are
sometimes called " the traditions of the elders."
Jubal is called " the father of such as handle the
harp,"t which signifies the same with that which
is said of his brother, § " He was an instruc-
ter of artificers in brass and iron." And hence
Solomon saith so often, " My son, hear the in
struction of a father." So that 'as '=« " my fa
ther, my father," in the text, is nothing else but
'an ian ' my master, my master.' Elijah taught and
instructed him out of the law, but with such a care
and fatherly affection, that Elisha was truly his son
• Johnv. 35. f 1 Peter '"¦ ,s- i Gea- iv- z,# § Ibid- ver- 22>

528 A SERMON PREACHED
as well as his scholar, one whom he lpved and ten
dered, whom he wrapped as a child in his mantle
when he was following the plough, whom he begot
into another shape and made another man, in
whose heart he sowed the seeds of true righteous
ness and godliness, that he might do more good in
the world. For what God doth by men, that they
many times are said to do. Hence the apostles
call Christians " their little children," and " dear
children," whom they had " travailed in birth
withal, till Christ was formed in them."* They
lay in the apostles' wombs, and they brought them
forth Christians, and so were truly their spiritual
fathers. And we may still see such noble squls
which God continues amongst men, " whose
mouths," as Solomon says, " are as a well of life,
whose lips feed many, and whose tongues are as
choice silver:"! men that are xomoi raring - common
fathers,' and will embrace every body as a son, so
they be but willing to be taught ; that have the
whole world for their school, and are instilling
wholesome notions and rectified apprehensions into
men's minds, and implanting " the truth which is
after godliness''^ in their hearts : men that in all
meekness, tenderness, and fatherly affection reprove
those that oppose themselves ; that endeavour to
bring them into their wombs, that, if it be possible,
they may beget the life of God, and of his Son
Christ, in their souls : men who cherish and foster
the least gasping, panting life that is in any soul;
who endeavour to free this life from any obstruc
tions that dull and oppress it: and so in every sense
* Gal. iv. 19. f Prov- *• U. 2°> 21. t Tit '"• '•

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. ' 5L29
prove themselves to be the true fathers of the
church, common fathers, (as I before expressed
it,) neither bound up in themselves, nor addicted
to any particular sect, but minding the good of
all : who think that they were not born for them
selves, nor to be linked to this or that body or
party of men ; but are to be " perfect as their
heavenly father is perfect,"* who doth good to all,
even to the evil and unthankful. A orogyri, or na
tural affection there is in them, which makes them
think that every man's child is their own ; and if
they cpuld hatch any heavenly life in them, they
would willingly cover them under their wings.
Such a person was St. Paul, who went through fire
and water, had a pilgrimage through this world
upon nothing but briers and thorns, out of his
great love that he bare to men : " The care of all,
the churches lay upon him ; and no man could be
weak, but he was weak also; no man was offended,
but he burned, "t it put him in a kind of fever: and
all this was easy to him, because he had the bowels
of a father. Such another was St. John, who hath
every where in his mouth, " My little children.''^
A good old father he was who breathed forth no
thing but love to man. And it need be no offence,
if I add there was a Socrates in Athens, who had
so much of this kind ofsplrit"in him, that he styled
himself QegaTav 'igurog, ' a servant of love,' and
professed that he knew nothing but how to love.
He would often acknowledge himself to be an igno
ramus in all ' those things whereinto their wise men
used to inquire, and that he could say nothing in

Matt. v. 4V. f 2 Cur. xi. 28, 29. f ! John ii. 1.
3 X

530 A SERMON PREACHED
those controversies that were agitated about the
gods and such Hke, as Maximus Tyrius expressly
tells us, but he durst not deny himself to have skUl
in that lourixri rs%M?, ' in the art of love,' wherein
he was continually busied and employed ; instruct
ing of their youth, amending of their manners, and
making them truly virtuous ; which thing the un
grateful wretches of the city called * corrupting of
their children.' And truly it is very often the lot
of these fathers, of which I am speaking, who
nourish up youth in true piety and virtue, to be
esteemed by many, the corrupters of the foun
tain, pestes rather than patres of the places where
they live. But they fare no worse than Elijah
did, who was accounted " the troubler of Israel,"
though he was " the chariot and horsemen there
of;" a man so useful; that they could not tell how
to want him, though they knew not how to value
him. And that is the third thing to which I am
to proceed : only let me entreat you that you
would think within yourselves in my passage, such
a one was the party deceased.
Thirdly. We have here observable the usefulness
of Elijah; he was not only a father, but " the cha
riot and horsemen of Israel," the security and safe
guard of the place where he was. He calls him
by this name in an allusion to the chariot wherein
he was fetched to heaven, and would express by
this form of speech the good service he did for
Israel. He was instead of an army to them ; like
David, worth ten thousand of the people.* He
alone was able to fight with all their enemies, and
* 2 Sara, xviii. 3.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 531
by his force to break all their legions in pieces.
And indeed all good men, especially men of extra
ordinary wisdom and godliness, such as I have
been speaking of, are the guard and defence of the
towns where they reside, yea of the country where
of they are members. They are the tutelar angels
of a nation; men that can do more by their prayers
and tears, their virtuous and holy actions, than a
host of men, wherein none is of less valour than
Samson or the famed Hercules and Achilles. How
had it been with Israel, had it not been for Moses,
the meekest man on earth, and yet " terrible as
an army with banners ?" And in what a case had
Samaria often been, if it had not been for this
EHsha, the son of Elijah, who was encompassed
about with chariots and horses of fire to fight at
his command ? What, if I say of such men in the
Platonists' phrase, that they are tyuhaxig rou xoawou,
1 the keepers of the world,' that preserve it from
being made like to Sodom and Gomorrah ? And
if there had been but ten of these holy champions
there, they had shielded their heads from the arrows
of the Almighty, and kept the showers of fire and
brimstone from raining upon them. Good men
are the lifeguard of the world, next to God and
good angels, they are the wails and bulwarks of a
nation ; for " by their strength they have power
with God,"* as it is said of Jacob. And so the
Chaldee Paraphrast reads these words of my text,
' Thou wast better to Israel by thy prayers than
chariot and horsemen.' They are the glory of the
world, and without them it would be but a rude
* Hos. xii. 5.

532 A SERMON PREACHED
rabble, a beast with many heads and no brains, a
mere chaos and confusion. And it is by reason of
them that it doth not run into such disorder a,s a
company of chUdren would do without their father,
or as a multitude of mad soldiers without their
skilful leader and commander. ,
And so I have briefly set before you what Elijah
was, what those who are eminent for godliness axe,
what every good man ought in some measure to
be, and what you shall shortly hear our deceased
father was in a high degree : men of worth and
great renown, =tcn 'imk (in a good sense) • men of
name ;' men that may be taken notice of in the
world, that shine by their wisdom, justice, and
goodness, that cheer the world by their love and
fatherly care of all, that heartily endeavour to do
good, and would not for a world see men perish if
they could help it ; in a word, men that are as the
soul of the world, without whom it would be a
stinking and unsufferable place.
II. Now let us look a while upon EHsha, and
see what he thought of such a man. And,
First. We meet with his great affections ex
pressed in the very form of the words, " My father,
my father." Methinks I feel within myself with
what pure, dear, and ardent love he spake these
words ; what a glowing fire there was in his breast
when he thought of his spiritual father. He burnt
in love to him, as if some spark had fallen from
Elijah's fiery chariot into his heart. He was all in
a desire, as if the angels that fetched his father,
had lent him a waft of their wings, whereby he
strove to fly with him to heaven. There is not
a child that can cry more after the breasts that

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 533
give it suck, and the arms of her that carried it in
her womb, than he calls and cries after his father,
" O my father, my father ! where shall I find my
father ? what wUl become of me without my fa
ther ?" A tender love and kindness there is to be
in our hearts to all men of what nature or nation
soever ; no man ought to be tyihaurog ' a lover of
himself,' but (pshavSgaivog ' a lover of mankind :'
yet a more singular cleaving of souls there should
be to those that are good ; but the most unspeak
able and greatest adhesion and union to those by
whom we have profited in wisdom and godliness,
and whose lips have dropped the words of Hfe into
our minds. For, as Solomon hath it, " There is
gold, and a multitude of rubies ; but the Hps of
knowledge are a precious jewel."* We should
stand affected to them as the Galatians to St. Paul,
who would have puUed out their very eyes, and
given them unto him.t They ought to be to us
oculis chariores, as the ordinary phrase is, dearer
than our eyes : by which speech God expresses his
extraordinary love to his people Israel, saying that
he kept them " as the apple of his eye." And in
deed it can scarce be otherwise, but that there
should be an unknown love between such persons,
there being such a secret fascination in frequent
converse and familiarity, as entices a man's soul
and heart out of himself. Those precepts which
we imbibe from another's mouth, naturally caU
forth a strong affection to flow from us to him ;
and he who inflames our souls with love to God,
will certainly enkindle a subordinate love within
* Prov. xx. 1.5. f Gal. iv. 15.

<

534 A SERMON PREACHED
us to himself. The words of wisdom smite an in
genuous soul ucia% nvi fisXzt as with a dart, if I may
use Greg. Thaumaturgus' expression concerning
Origen's discourses, and cannof but wound it both
with a love to wisdom and him that shoots those
piercing arrows into its heart. They bind a tract
able soul aWsg und nsiv avdyxaig, as it were, in in
dissoluble necessities, so that it cannot but love
those words, and kiss the mouth also from whence
they flow unto it. A teachable mind wiU hang
about a wise man's neck, and thereby they come to
cleave and cling as fast together as the soul of
Jonathan did unto the soul of David. So the afore
said Gregory speaks of himself and Origen, roiau-
raig riah avayxutg Aafiib* ourog ffuatpty^dpiievog jj/ak?, &c.
This David (meaning Origen) hath entangled
and bound up my soul in such necessary fetters of
love, he hath so tied and even knit me to him,
that if I would be disengaged, I cannot quit my
self. No, ei aTob^aai^tv, though we depart out
of this world, our love cannot die ; for I love him
even as my own soul; and so my affection must
remain for ever.' " The words of the wise," saith
Solomon, " are as goads, and as nails fastened by
the masters of assemblies."* If a master fix his
doctrine in his scholar's mind, he nails himself
likewise with the same stroke quasi trabali clavo,
by a pin as strong as a beam, to his scholar's heart:
they mingle souls as they do notions; and mutuaUy
pass" into each other.
Secondly. We have here likewise the sense which
Elisha had qf his great loss. For these words are
* Eccl. xii. 11.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 535
expressions of sorrow and lamentation, as appears
by the words following, " And he took hold of his
own clothes, and rent them in pieces :" and also
where we find Joash weeping over this Elisha, and
saying these very words of my text, " O my father,
my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen
thereof."* And methinks I see Elisha himself
here bedewing his cheeks with tears, and hear these
words sobbed and sighed out of his heart, having
lost his dear father, one that took such special care
of him whilst he was in the world. Methinks I see
his heart rent as well as. his garments, and there I
see Elijah graven in letters as great as was his love.
How could he look on himself and not lament to
think that he had lost his head ? how could he be
hold Israel unguarded, and not throw off his own
clothes as a token of his sorrow? It is said of
Jehoiakim, that " they shall not lament for him,
saying, Ah my brother ! or, Ah my sister ! they
shall not lament for him, saying, Ah lord ! or, Ah
his glory !"t which both shows that this is a form
of speech to denote sorrow ; and that it is an ho
nour wicked men shall want, that none shall bemoan
their departure. But the just shall be in everlast
ing remembrance, they shaU die desired ; and those
who can value them, will not let them pass away in
silence and with dry eyes. No tears are spent so
weU as for the want of God and a good friend, or
a good man, especially such a one as I before des
cribed. And indeed, who can think of his gracious
lips, his profitable and delightful converse, his cor
dial love, without a sigh and a tear, without saying,
* 2 Kings xiii. 14. f Jer. xxii. 18.

536 A SERMON PREACHED
" Ah my father ! Ah his glory?" No man will be
sooner missed than such a one as he : ten thou
sand others may steal out of the world, and no
body scarce mind or inquire after them ; but let
Elijah go away, and you shaU have fifty men go
three days to seek him, that if it be possible they
may enjoy his company a while longer. We find
that Jesus himself wept for his friend Lazarus, at
which the Jews said, " Behold how he loved him."*
Two souls joined together in cordial love, cannot
part without a groan, especially a son and his father,
a scholar and his master. The child cannot hold
itself from crying when it wants the breast that
used to feed it ; nor can a soul, thirsty of know
ledge, but be pained, when the fountain is stopped
that used to quench it. There are not so many of
these men in the world, but their loss will be as
soon felt as the want of a stake in a rotten hedge,
or of a buttress against a bowing walk He who
knows one to have been a light in the world, and a
lamp unto him, will surely be melancholy and sad,
when he sees that Hght go out, and himself left in
the dark, without that pfaov ipSg, those cheerful and
beloved beams which used to shine upon him, to
illuminate and warm his soul with a true knowledge
and love of all real goodness.
Thirdly. We may further take notice qf the hon
ourable thoughts he had qf Elijah, of the reverence,
worship, and respect which he gave unto him. For
so we may look upon these words as an expression
of the high esteem he had of him, and regard he
bare to him, even after he was gone from this earth,
* John xi. 35, 36.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 537
and could do no more kindnesses for him. Elisha,
who had been a minister to him when he was below,
and used to pour water upon his hands, could not
but have very reverend thoughts toward him now
that the angels came to wait upon him, and in
flames of fire to carry him up above, He could
not but honour him as his elder and father, as his
leader and commander, as the general of the sons
of the prophets, as the very host and army of Israel.
And indeed the souls of those men that are as full
of God as the name of Elijah is, (in^N) which in
cludes two, if not three, of the divine names in it,
cannot but draw our eyes toward them ; but then
they so dazzle us with their lustre and brightness,
they strike us into such amazement at their perfec
tions, that the weakness of man's nature hath been
apt to give no less than divine veneration to sueh
persons. It had not been lawful I know to have
worshipped Elijah, though he had been an angel ;
but yet methinks I see Elisha bowing down with
some respect to the very mantle which fell from his
master, and taking it up as a precious relique of so
holy a man. And I could very well pass some
civility upon the gown in which this holy man de
parted, used to walk, out of the great honour
which I bear to him. There was so much of divi
nity enshrined in this exceUent man's soul, that it
made every thing about him to have a kind of
sacredness in it, and will make his name to be
always as a sweet odour unto us. Though we may
not extol it with divine praises, yet let it never be
mentioned by us without the addition of the He
brew manner of speech Wi ' His memory is bless-
S Y

538 A SERMON PREACHED
ed,' or of the Greek o icavu puxugirfig, ' That most
blessed man.'
And so I am fallen unawares in my meditations
upon the application of what hath been said of him
that is deceased, and to our own selves.
Some perhaps will be angry that I should go
about to compare him with Elijah, the man of God;
but I have an apology ready at hand : they will
give me leave I hope to do the same that Greg.
Nyssen doth, who in his oration at the funeral of
his brother Basil, compares him not only with Elias,
but with John the Baptist; the second EHas, and
with St. Paul himself, saying, that one should not
err if he should affirm that there was in him and in
St. Paul h jjArgov rqg aydrtig ' one and the same mea
sure of divine love.' Suffer me then to use some
of his words concerning him of whom we are now
to speak. " None will require of human nature to
imitate Elijah in his shutting and opening of hea
ven, in his fasting so many days, and going up to
God in a fiery chariot ; but in other things we will
be bold to compare him with that great man, in his
zealous faith, in his cordial love to God, in his .
earnest desireand thirst rou ovroog ovrog (as he speaks)
after that which truiyls7 in an exact and exquisite
life, £»jj ha, vdvruv i^srafffjtisv^, in a conversation so
studied that it was in all things consonant with
itself, in most unaffected gravity, wonderful simpH-
city, and a countenance proportionable to the vigour
and strength of his soul, or, in his own words, he
had pkippa ru rovco rqg ->\>uy$g auvrtm^ivov, ' a look
that was not one key below his intent, and eager,
and sprightly mind.' If you look upon his care of
those things that were hoped for, and neglect of

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 539
these things that are seen, on his equal love to poor
and rich ; in these and such like things he imitated
the wonders of Elijah. But if any man will needs
urge us to strain a Httle higher, and compare some
thing in him to his fasting forty days ; then what
say you to an every-day's temperance ? And if
there must be something answerable to his going
up to heaven in a fiery chariot ; then look upon
the other way of ascending thither, which is the
best, hd rrjg tyrirSjg iro'kiritag by a high transcendent
conversation in this world, whereby he made a
chariot of his virtues that he might ascend up unto
God." But that I may proceed in this argument accord
ing to our former method,
1. Let us first look upon him in his eminency, dig
nity, and worth. A very glorious star he was, and
shone brighter in our eyes than any that he ever
looked upon when he took his view of the heavenly
bodies : and now he shines as the brightness of the
firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever, being
wise, and having turned many, I beHeve, unto righ
teousness. I shall speak nothing of his earthly parentage
save only this, that herein he was like to John the
Baptist, the last Elias, in that he was born after
his parents had been long childless and were grown
aged. Some have observed that such have proved
very famous ; for they seem to be sent on purpose
by God into the world to do good, and to be scarce
begotten by their parents. Such are something
like Isaac, who had a great blessing in him, and
seem to be intended by God for some great service
and work in the world.

540 A SERMON PREACHED
' But let us look only at hi& heavenly descent, and
see how he was aUied to God himseU ; for, as the
poet says of ./Eneas, Cbntinget sanguine cesium.
I may say of him as Nazianzen says of his sister,
' His country was heaven, his town or city was the
Jerusalem which is above, his fellow-citizens were
the saints, his nobiHty was r\ r%g ilxovog ri^aig, xa)
4 fflgo? ro ugyjiruTrev Viopbtaxrig, the retaining of the
divine impressions and stamps upon his soul, and
being like to God the archetype and first pattern of
all goodness.' And indeed the preserving of the
heavenly symbols that are in our souls, and espe
ciaUy the purging and scouring of them from the
corruption of nature, he often spake of; and his
endeavour was, that the Divine image might be
fairly reflected in him, and that it might shine
brightly in the face of others,
If I should speak much of the vastness qf his
learning (a thing not to be passed by,), it would
seem to say that I knew all he was ; which I am
not so arrogant as to assume unto myself: this I
will say, that he could do what He would. He had
such a huge, wide capacity of soul, such a sharp
and piercing understanding, such a deep reaching
mind, that he set himself about nothing but he soon
grasped it, and made himself a full possessor of it.
And U" we consider his great industry and indefati
gable pains, his Herculean labours day and night
from his first coming to the University,* till the
time of his long sickness, joined with his large
* April 5, 1636.
1

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 541
parts, and his frequent meditation, contemplation, j
and abstraction of his mind from sensible things j
it must needs be concluded that he was a compre-
hensor of more than I can say or think of ; and U'
I could, it would be too tedious to give you an
account of all.
There is a discourse which Charidemus (in Dion
Chrysostome) makes to his friends a little before
his death.* " How that this world is God's house,
wherein a gallant sumptuous feast is prepared, and
all men are his guests : and how that there are two
waiters at the table which fill out the wine to them
that call for it ; the one a man, the other a woman;
the one called NoDj, or mind, from whose hand all
wise men drink, the other ' Axedrua, or intemper
ance, who fills the cups of the lovers of this world."
In this house our beloved friend deceased, staid
between four and five and thirty years, and, I am
sure, drank most large draughts from the hand of
the former ; for he was a man, he was a mind, he had .
nothing of that woman in him, and never in the
least was known to sip of her cups. He was a most
laborious searcher after wisdom, and never gave his
flesh the leisure to please itself in those entertain
ments: and tlierefore we may be confident with
that Charidemus, that God hath taken him to be
his auyjTorriv xa) hdlgov, ' his friend and companion,'
to drink of the rivers of his pleasure. In a word,
he was B/(3Xio^«j? rig 'i\^\iu%og, xa) myitarovv f/iOuatTov,
as Eunapius speaks of Longinus,t ' A Hying library,'
better than that which he hath given to our college,
' and a walking study,' that carried his learning
* Orat. 30. t I" v'ta Porphyria

542 A SERMON PREACHED
about with him. I never got so much good among
all my "books by a whole day's plodding in a study,
as by an hour's discourse I have got with him. For
he was not a library locked up, nor a book clasped,
but stood open for any to converse withal that had
a mind to learn. Yea, he was a fountain running
over, labouring to do good to those who perhaps
had no mind to receive it. None more free and
communicative than he was to such as desired to
discourse with him ; nor would he grudge to be
taken off from his studies upon such an occasion.
It may be truly said of him, that a man might
always come better from him ; and his mouth could
drop sentences as easily as an ordinary man's could
speak sense. And he was no less happy in express
ing his mind, than in conceiving ; wherein he seems
to have excelled the famous philosopher Plotin, of
whom Porphyry tells us, that he was something
careless of his words, aKXd po'vov rou vou \yf>\hzvog but
was wholly taken up into his mind. He, of whom
we now speak, had such a copia verborum, a plenty
of words, and those so full, pregnant, and signifi
cant, joined with such an active fancy, as is very
rarely to be found in the company of such a deep
understanding and judgment as dwelt in him.
I have done with his learning, when I have told
you, that as he looked upon honours, riches, and
the eagerly-pursued things of this world, as vani
ties ; so did he look upon this also as a piece,
though a more excellent piece, of vanity, as he was
wont to phrase it, if compared with the higher and
more divine accomplishments of the soul. For he
did not care to value himself by any of those things
which were of a perishing nature, which should

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 543
fail, and cease, and vanish away ; but only by those
things which were more solid and substantial, of a
divine and immortal nature, which he might carry
out of the world with him ; to which my discourse
shall not be long before it descend.
He was of very singular wisdom and great pru
dence, of admirable skill and readiness in the
managery of affairs, which I make an account is
an imitation of that providence of God that go
verns the world. His learning was so concocted,
that it lay not as an idle notion in his head, but
made him fit for any employment. He was very
full and clear in all his resolutions at any debates,
a most wise counseUor in any difficultes and straits,
dexterous in untying any knot, of great judgment
in satisfying any scruple or doubt, even in matters of
religion. He was one that soon saw into the depth
of any business that was before him, and looked it
quite through, that would presently turn it over
and over in his mind, and see if on all sides ; and
he understood things so weU at the first sight, that
he did not often need any second thoughts, but
usually stood to the present resolution and deter
mination of his mind.
And add to this his known integrity, upright
ness, and faithfulness ; his strong and lively, his
waking and truly tender conscience, which, joined
with the former things I spoke of, made him more
than a man, 0T01 vuv figerof iiai, ' as men now go.' He
was, as one of the ancients speaks, rrjg <pthoao<piag
v-jroosiypu xa) ohv erd^ri itviuparixri, ' an exemplar of
true Christian phUosophy and virtue,' and as it
were the spiritual rule, line, and square thereof:
of so poised and even a life, that by his wisdom

544 A SERMON PREACHED
and conscience, (were it not that every man should
know for himself; ) one might live almost at a ven
ture, walking blindfold through the world, and not
miscarry.
4 He had incorporated, shall I say, or insouled aU
principles of justice and righteousness, and made
| them one with himself. So that I may say of him
| in Antoninus' phrase,* he was hxamuvq fisfiafbp'evog
\&g fid§og, ' dipped into justice as it were over head
I and ears ;' he had not a slight superficial tincture,
\ but was dyed and coloured quite through with it ;
I so that wheresoever he had a soul, there was jus-
j tice and righteousness. They who knew him, very
weU know the truth of all this. And I am per
suaded he did as heartily and cordiaUy, as eagerly
and earnestly do what appeared to be just and
right, without any self-respect or particular reflec
tions, as any man living.
Methinks I see how earnest he would be in a
good matter which appeared to be reasonable and
just, as though justice herself had been in him,
looking out at his eyes, and speaking af his mouth.
It was a virtue indeed that he had a great affection
unto, and which he was very zealous to maintain ;
in whose quarrel he was in danger to be angry,
and sometimes to break forth into a short passion.
But he was always very urgent upon us, that by
the grace of God, and the help of the mighty
Spirit of Jesus Christ working in us, we would en
deavour to purge out the corruption of our natures,
and to " crucify the flesh with all the affections
and lusts thereof:" yea, to subdue as much as it is
* Lib. III.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 545
possible even the argoaigira in our souls, those first
motions that are without our consent, and to labour
after purity of heart, that so we might see God.
For his endeavour was not only to be sgo> aftagr/a?,
out of the pollutions of the world through lust, but,
as Plotin speaks, Qsov elvat, to come to the true likeness
of God and his Son, or, in the apostle's language,
" to be partaker of the divine nature." And here
now what words shall I use ?
What shall I say of his love ? None that knew
him well, but might see in him ¦jr/iydZpuoav aydvriv,
as Nazianzen I think speaks, love bubbling and
springing up in his soul, and flowing out to all ;
and that love unfeigned, without guile, hypocrisy,
or dissimulation. I cannot tell you how hissqul
was universaHzed, how tenderly he embraced all
(rod's creatures in his arms, more especially men,
and principally those in whom he beheld the image
of his heavenly Father. There one might have
seen running ro avyymg argos ro euyyivsg, and he
would ever have emptied his soul into theirs. Let
any that were thoroughly acquainted with him say
if I lie. And truly my happiness is that I have
such a subject to exercise my young and weak
oratory upon, as will admit of little hyperbole.
His patience was no less admirable than his love,
under a lingering and tedious disease, wherein he
never murmured nor complained, but rested quietly
satisfied in the infinite unbounded goodness and
tenderness of his Father, and the commiserations
of Jesus Christ our merciful High Priest, " who
can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities."*

* Heb. iv. 1,5.
3 Z

546 A SERMON PREACHED
He still resolved with Job, " Though he kill me,
yet will I trust in him."* Euys on <pikooo(f>ug b roig
icd&iai, saith Nazianzen in an epistle to Phflagrius,
' O bravely done most noble soul, who canst play
the phUosopher, the Christian, in thy sickness and
sufferings ; who canst not only talk but do, not
only do but suffer !' And he told me in his sick
ness, that he hoped he had learned that for which
God sent it, and that he thought God kept him so
long in such a case, under such burdens and pres
sures, that " patience might have its perfect work
in him." His sickness undoubtedly was <pikbao<pog
voaog, as Nazianzen speaks, ' a learned disease and
full of true philosophy, which taught him more of
real Christianity, and made his soul of a more
strong, able, athletic habit and temper.' For, as
St. James saith, " if patience have its perfect work,"
then is a soul "perfect and entire, wanting no
thing."? And really in his sickness he showed
what Christianity and true religion is able to do ;
what might, power, and virtue there is in it to
bear up a soul under the greatest loads ; and that
he could, through Cbrist strengthening him, do all
that which he so admirably discoursed of in his
life. But for his humility, it was that which was most
apparent and conspicuous. You might have be
held in him rrjg raftuvoQgoavvrig tov hxgorarov ogoc, as
the same father speaks, ' true humility in a most
eminent degree, and the more eminent, considering
how much there was within him which would have
sweUed and puffed up another.' But fronvhis first
* Job xiii. 15. f James i. 4.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 547
admission into the University, as I am informed
by those that knew him, he sought not great things
for himself, but was contented in the condition
wherein he was. He made not haste to rise and
climb, as youths are apt to do, which we in these
late times too much experience, wherein youths
scarce fledged have soared to the highest prefer
ments, but pxoceedgd leisurely by orderly steps,
not_to what he could get, but to wha^ he was fit
to^undertake. He staid God's time of advance
ment, wifh all industry and pains following his
studies ; as if he rather desired to deserve honour,
than to be honoured. He shook off aU idleness
and sloth, the baneof youth, and so had the bless
ing of God upon his endeavours, who gave him
great encouragement from divers persons of worth,
and at last brought him unto this place. And I
challenge any one that is impartial to say, if since
he came hither, they ever beheld in him any pride,
vain-glory, boasting, self-conceit, desire of honour,
and being famous in the world. No, there is not
the man Hving that had the eyes ever to discern
any thing of this swoln nature.: but on the contrary
it was easy to take notice of most profound humility
and lowliness of mind, which made him a true
disciple of Jesus Christ, who took upon him the
form of a servant, and madchimself of no reputa
tion. And I dare say our dear friend was as true,
as humble a servant, (without any compliment) to
the good of mankind, as any person that this day
lives. This was his design in his studies, and if
it had pleased the Lord of life to have prolonged
his days, it would have been more of his work :
for he was resolved, as he once told me, very much

548 A SERMON PREACHED
to lay aside other studies, and to travel in the sal
vation of men's souls, after whose good he most
ardently thirsted.
Shall I add hs) vraat, as the apostle speaks,
above, or unto all these, his faith ;* I say, his true,
lively and working faith, his simple, plain-hearted,
naked faith in Christ ? It is likely that it did not
busy itself about many fine notions, subtilties, and
curiosities, or believing whole volumes; but be
sure- it was that which was firmly set and fixed in
the mercy and goodness of God through Christ ;
that also which brought down Christ into.hjsjQulj
which drew down heaven into his heart; which
sucked in life and strength continually from our
Saviour ; which made him hearty, serious, and
constant in all those forenamed Christian virtues.
His faith was not without a soul ; but what Isidore
saith of faith and works, t held true of him, ygq ostov
rovruv aurnv ¦^iu%oua'$iai, ' His faith was animated,
quickened, and actuated by these.' It made him
godlike, and he lived by faith in the Son of God ;
by it he came to be truly partaker of the righteous-
ness of Christ, and had it wrought and formed in
rns^very soul. For this indeed was the end of his
life, the main "design which he carried on, that he
might become like to God. So that if one should
have asked him that question in Antoninus,}: rig sou
fl r'ixvri ; ' what is thy art and profession, thy busi
ness and employment ?' He would not have an
swered, To be a great philosopher, mathematician,
historian, or Hebrician, (all which he was in great
eminency,) to be a physican, lawyer, general lin-
* Eph. vi. 16. f Lib- IV- Ep. 65. J Lib. XI.

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 549
guist; which names and many more his general
skill deserved : but he would have answered, as
he doth there, ' Ayu&ov tlvat, ' my art is to be good;'
to be a true divine is my care and business, or, in
the Christian phrase, " To be holy as God is holy,
to be perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect."*
All that remember the serious behaviour and
weighty expressions he used in his prayers, cannot
but call to mind how much his heart was set upon
the attainment of this true goodness.
I have transgressed too much my bounds, now it
is so late ; and trespassed perhaps too much upon
your patience : yet I hope I should not weary you>
if I should discourse upon his ingenuity, his cour
tesy, his gentleness and sweetness, with many other
things of the Hke nature. And . let me say thus
much, that he was far from that spirit of devouring
zeal that now too much rages. He-would rather
have been consumed in the service of men, than
have called for fire down from heaven, as Elijah
did, to consume them/ And therefore though
Elijah exceUed him in' this,"that he ascended up
to heaven in a fiery chariot; yet herein I may say
he was above the spirit of Elijah, that he caUed for
no fire to descend from heaven upon men, but the
fire of divine love that might burn up all their ha
treds, rougliness, and cruelty to each other. But as
forl?enighityo£ mind and Christian kindness, every
body that knew him will remember that he ever
had their names in his mouth, and 1 assure them
they were no less in his heart and life; as know
ing that without these truth itself is in a faction,
* Matt v. 48.

550 A SERMON PREACHED
and Christ is drawn into a party- And this gra^
ciousness of spujj was the more remarkable in him,
because he was of a temper naturally hot and cho
leric, as the greatest minds most commonly are.
He was wiser than to let any anger rest in his
bosom ; much less did he suffer it to burn and boU
till it was turned into gall and bitterness ; and least
of all- would he endure that any passion should
lodge in him, tUl it was become a cankered malice
and black hatred, which men in these days can
scarce hide, but let it appear in their countenance
and in their carriage towards others.
If he was at any time moved unto anger, it was
but a sudden flushing in his face, and it did as soon
vanish as arise ; and it used to arise upon no such
occasions as I now speak of. No, whensoever he
looked upon the fierce and consuming fires that
were in men's souls, it made him sad, not angry ;
and it was his constant endeavour to inspire men's
souls with more benign and kindly heats, that they
might warm but not scorcTrtheir^retHreh.
And from this spirit, together with the rest of
Christian graces that were in him, there did result
a great serenity, quiet, and tranquUHty in his soul,
which dweltTsoiTtiuch above, that it was not shaken
with any of those tempests and storms which use
to unsettle more low and. abject minds. He lived
in a continued sweet enjoyment of God, and so
was not ^ls^^eted^wltn^s^ruples or (JouBts of his
salvation. There was always discernible in him, a
cheerful sense of God's goodness, which ceased.
not in the time of sickness. But we most longed
to see the motions of his soul, when he drew near
to the centre of his rest. He that had such a con-

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 551
stant feeUng of God within him, we might con
clude would have the most strong and powerful
sense when he came nearer to a close conjunction
with him. But God was pleased to deny this to
us, and by a lethargic distemper which seized on
his spirits, he passed the six last days of his life
(if I may call it a life) in a kind of sleep, and with
out taking much notice of any thing, he slept in
the Lord.
And now, have I not described a person of
worth and eminency ? Have we not reason to be
so sad, as you see our faces tell you that we are ?
But alas ! half of that is not told you which your
eyes might have seen, had you been acquainted
with him. I want thoughts and words to make a
lively portraiture of him : my young experience
hath not yet seen to the height or the depth of
these things which I have here given you a rude
draught of; and so my conceits and expressions
must needs fall far below that excellent degree of
beauty wherein they dwelt in him. Let it suffice
therefore to say, that I may keep to the word in
the text, that he was truly a father, that he wanted
ages only to make him reverend ; and that if he
had lived many generations ago, and left us the
children of his mind to posterity, he might by this
time have been numbered among the fathers of the
church. I have almost prevented myself already in the
two latter particulars, his singular care, and his great
usefulness ; both which must needs be concluded
from the former: his care I say of others as atutorj
his usefulness as a Fellow of this now mournful
Society. Let me speak a word or two of either.

552 A SERMON PREACHED
Secondly. All his pupils, who are now truly
pupilli, fatherless chUdren, began to know in his
sickness what it was to have and to want a loving
father, a faithful tutor ; and now they will know it
more fully. He was one that did so constantly
mind their good, that instilled such excellent pious
notions into their minds, and gave such light in every
thing a man could desire to know ; that I could
have been content, though in this gown, to have
been his pupil. His life taught them continual
lessons of justice, temperance, prudence, fortitude,
and masculine virtue ; and above all he taught
them true dependance upon God, and reference
of themselves and aU their studies unto him ; with
true faith in, and imitation of, our Lord and Savi
our Jesus Christ: for which end he often expounded
to them out of the holy Scriptures. And for hu
man learning, the many good scholars that came
from under his hand do witness how dexterous he
was at the training up of youth in aU good litera
ture. Porphyry tells us of Plotin, that he was such
a careful person, that sundry noble men and wo
men, with divers others, when they died, commit
ted both their sons and daughters to his tuition,
ag /Ega» rtvi xa) Sity (pukaxi, * as unto some tutelar
angel, or a sacred and divine guardian.' Truly
those that eome hither, are in a manner without
father and mother ; but they could not be commit
ted to a more loving tutor, a more holy and faith
ful guardian, that would bring them up in all true
learning and piety. If any think that he was too
\ severe, let me tell them that they are such as find
^ fault with the Hon ort ujfj ri^fjxsiov fiKsvei, uKkd fikoeu-
goV xa) (Suaikixov, ' because he looks not like an ape,

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 553
biit with a stern, royal, and kingly countenance.'
He both looked and spoke like a man that had
drunk into his soul such solid, high, and generous
principles, as few men are acquainted with, which
made him very zealous not only for righteousness,
integrity, and holiness, but for decorum in all
things. He had a great regard for all those things
which are mentioned by the apostle ; for " what
soever things were true, honest," (or rather, comely
and grave, seemly and venerable, as aipva doth sig
nify,) for all that was "just, pure, lovely, of good"
fame and " report ; if there was any praise, or any
virtue,"* he was most earnest and forward in its
behalf. Thirdly. And now what his usefulness was, and
the benefit we received by him, aU that bear any
share in the government of this Society will be
made to know, by the want of him. There is not
one but wUl cry out, with Elisha, " O the chariot
of this place, and the horsemen thereof:" which
words seem to express what a necessary man Elias
was, and to be just like that of Horace to Maecenas!
when sick, which we may use concerning him that
is now dead, Grande decus, columenque rerum,
' Our great glory, the piUar upon whose shoulders
the weight of business of late Jay ;'
0 et presidium el dulce decus meum,
as he saith in another place, ' O thou who wast
both my safeguard and my ornament ! who wast a
society by thyself, a college in brief, what a loss

* Phil. iv. 8. . f Lib- TT- 0d- 17-
i A

554- A SERMON PREACHED
have we sustained by thy departure ?' That must
not be resolved by me, nor by any one single perscp
of us, but we must all lay our heads together to
teU our loss. To which of us was not he dear ?
who is there that was not engaged to him ? who
can think himself as wise as he was when we had
him? And this our high and dear esteem of him, when
he was with us, leads me to speak of" that honour
and reverence which we all express- to his name,
that affection which is in our hearts to his memory,
the sense that is in us of our great and unspeakable
loss ; in answer to those three foregoing consider
ations about Elisha. But here I must be very brief,
and put all together. There is none that knew his
worth, but honour his very dust. And, for my part,
I honour him so much, that I wish we might do as
the virgins of Israel did for Jephthah's daughter,*
come once a year hither and lament his death ;
and so at once we might express all these three, our
respect, affection, and sense of our loss. His name
is most worthy to be had in a more especial remem
brance, and highly deserves to be ranked among our
benefactors, he having endowed our library with all
the books that he had, and we wanted ; and I have
reason to believe, that if he had not been so sud
denly surprised by those forgetful lethargic fits, he
intended to bestow more upon us than his books,
which yet were both many and choice ones, being
above six hundred in number, and many of them
large and costly ; and for the matter of" them,
many Hebrew books, besides some Arabic, many

* Judg. xi. 40.
5

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 555
mathematical books, many books of history, both
ancient and modern, as also of philosophy and phi
lology, both sacred and profane.
And whensoever we commemorate his love unto
us, let it be with some encomium : let us mourn
quod talem amiserimus,that we are deprived of such
a person ; but let us rejoice and give thanks to
God quod talem habuerimus, that we ever had such
a one who hath done us so much good : they are
the words of St. Hierom to Nepotian, with a little
alteration. But let me tell you in conclusion of all, that
herein would be shown our greatest love and affec
tion which we bare to him, this would be the great
est honour of him, if we would but express his life
in ours, that others might say when they behold us,
there walks at least a shadow of Mr. Smith. And
O that I might beg, with EHsha, a double portion
among those that I desire should share in the gifts
and graces of this Elijah : this is the highest of my
ambition, that many might but possess the riches
that lodged in this one. They disgrace their mas
ter who have not skiU .in that which they say he
professed ; but they who tread in his steps and
excel in his art, shine back again upon him from
whom first they received their light. Let me
seriously therefore exhort every one of us to imi
tate this master in Israel : imitate him in his indus
try, if not in his learning ; shake off aU laziness and
sloth ; do not acoparovv rnv -^v%%v imbody and ener
vate your souls by idleness and base neglect ; do
not emasculate them and turn them into flesh by
drowsiness or vain pleasures. Imitate his temper
ance, his patience, his fortitude, his candour and

^° A SERMON PREACHED
ingenuity, his holiness and righteousness, his faith
and love, his charity and humility, his self-denial
and true self-resignation to the will of God : in a
word, aU those Christian virtues which lived in him,
let them live in us for ever. Let us die to the
world, as he did, before we die : let us separate our
souls from our bodies and all bodily things, before
the time of our departure and separation come.
Let us take an especial heed lest we do tto&uv top
mgiyziov xdtrpov, as most men do, lest we suffer this
lower and earthly world ; lest we be drawn forcibly
into its embraces, and so held from rising aloft : but
let us turn up our minds continually to heaven, and
earnestly desire paii Deum, ' to suffer God ;' to be
mightily and strongly attracted by him from all
earthy and sensible delights, to an admiration and
love of his everlasting beauty and goodness. Let
us labour to be so well acquainted with him, and all
things of the higher world, and so much disengaged
in our affections from this and all that is in it, that
when we come to go out of this world, we may
never look back and say, O what goodly things do
I leave ! what a brave world, am I snatched from !
would I might but live a little longer there ! Let us
get our hearts so crucified to the world, that it may
be an easy thing to us to shake hands with, and bid
a fareweU to, our friends, the dearest things we
have, our lands, houses, goods, and whatsoever is
valuable in our eyes. Let us use ' the world as
though: we used it not ; let us die daily, as our dear
•friend did ; and so it was easy to him to die at last.
Die, did I say ? shall I use that word, or rather
hpiirrarai, heji^fjown , ,a.way, as Nazianzen speaks,
his soul hath got loose, and now.JeelaJiex^ffings -f

AT THE AUTHOR'S FUNERAL. 557
or piroixiZprai he hath changed his habitation, he is
gone into the other world, as Abraham went out of
Ur into Canaan ; or, as the same father says, pixgov
TgouTroogpsi rou ffaf»«rog, ' hy^tixta^^^hjs^QJKBgy
into another country a little before his body ?' He i
^  »'  r ' I ' ¦ ¦ ¦  lM | ¦ I F ' I ¦ limn 'illi 1 1 lull WulHUMI I I l-n fifll-iiT'ii- ii III «  ii, n^ | V I
hath left his body behind him awhUe to take a sleep
in the dust, and when it awakes at the resurrection,
it shall follow also to the same place. Then shall
it be made " a spiritual body," then shall it have
wings given to it also, and be lovingly married
again to the soul, never more to suffer any separa
tion. And at that time we shall all meet with our
dear father and friend again, who now are here re
maining, crying out, " O my father, my father," &c.
" Then shall all tears be wiped away from our eyes,
and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow,
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:"*
Then we shaU not need such a light as he was ;
" for there is no night there, and they need no can
dle, neither Hght of the sun ; for the Lord God
giveth them light, and they shaU reign for ever and
ever."t Amen.

*
* Rev. xxi. 4. •[ Ibid. xxii. 5.

Andrew & John M. Duncan, Printers to the University of Glasgow.