CHAPTER V.
_A persuasive to the study of Christian prudence, with some advices relating to the practice of it._
1. HAVING thus laid down the principles of Christian prudence, what remains but to persuade men to the study of it? And the first consideration I shall offer to recommend the study of this wisdom is, that it is attainable. *Many things employ the search of studious men, which, after all, they can never master, but must sit down, if not with a _contented_, yet with an _unavoidable_ ignorance of. But it is not so with wisdom: the acquisition of this depends not upon great parts, but upon a willing mind. Speculation indeed is infinite, and the well of truth has no bottom, and besides, _Many have nothing to draw with_. But wisdom, like a fountain, lies open, and within common reach. Some care, and pains, and diligence only it takes to drink of it; an easy price for so precious a treasure. Now this certainty of success is an encouraging motive to search after it in good earnest. Men may seek for silver, and not find it, and search for hid treasures, without being able to break in upon their dark retirements. And yet they search on: how much more should we search for wisdom, when we are sure not to be disappointed in our search?
2. But may we not be so in our _finding_? Many things are attainable by our labour, which are not worth our labour to attain. But wisdom is not of those; on the contrary, nothing is so well worth attaining. Wisdom it is that keeps the world in order, and makes living in it a blessing, that is the parent of laws, the foundation of government, and the great upholder and sweetner of all society. Wisdom it is that teaches a man how to obey, and how to govern even that ungovernable creature himself: to moderate his passions, to compose his manners, to behave well in all circumstances of life. In a word, that teaches a man to know God and himself, and by the shining paths of virtue leads him to everlasting glory and happiness.
*3. Therefore it is that _Solomon_ exhorts us with so passionate an earnestness, _with all thy gettings, get wisdom_. As much as to say, whatever thou gettest, or with the expence of all thou hast gotten, get wisdom, as being of infinitely more value than all. It is a pearl of so great price, that the merchant who finds it, will buy it with the price of all that he has. And a wise merchant he is who buys it even at this price, for it can never be bought too dear. Honour and greatness may; nay, and so may the whole world, if the price be a man’s soul. But wisdom cannot; therefore again, _Get wisdom, and with all thy gettings, get understanding_. If we get wisdom ’tis no matter what else we lose. And if we lose it, ’tis no matter what else we get. And indeed it matters not what we get or lose, so we get that which directs us in the way to happiness, which giveth _life_ to them that have it, and teaches them how to _live_.
*4. Another consideration to persuade us to the serious study of wisdom, is this, that if we do not now apply ourselves to it, we shall hereafter earnestly wish we had. I know hardly any other study, the neglect of which we shall finally repent of. He that has not studied mathematics, suppose, though he may perhaps sometime while he lives, reflect upon himself with some blame for the neglect of such an accomplishment, yet when he comes toward the concluding scene of life, and that of eternity begins to open, I presume he will not then think this a neglect worth repenting of. And so as to other studies. But he who has not studied wisdom, will then most certainly wish he had, and think it the greatest gain, could he exchange all the sciences he is master of, for this one, the science of life. This is the science that receives our last and best approbation, when other things that make a greater shew and noise, and which perhaps we liked better when we knew less, do not find so great a share in our esteem. Useless notions, and new systems, and fine-spun theories, will not always please us. The days will come when we shall say, we have no pleasure in them. But wisdom will relish with us to the very last, and more at last than ever. When other things leave us, wisdom will stay behind, and more than supply their loss: and when we have outlived the pleasures of the world, then will it be in the greatest esteem with us, as being the only thing of all our acquirements, whose possession and enjoyment too is immortal.
5. When the gaities and follies of life are over (for folly will not always please) when even the more serious entertainments of manhood appear to us as more solemn titles; when covetousness itself, the last folly that forsakes us, because it begins so late, that it often settles upon the dregs of life, as upon a firm and immoveable ground, when even this cleaving folly, shall uncling and drop from us, when the world itself shall be a burden to us; then shall the remembrance of wisdom be sweet unto us, and we shall delight in her conversation, and every step in her ways will give us more comfort than all the little things of the world. Those who have been strangers to wisdom before, will be ready enough to claim acquaintance with her then and to say unto wisdom, _Thou art my sister, and to call understanding their kinswoman_. But she will not then be so forward to _own them_. And therefore happy is he that has contracted a friendship with her in the days of his youth and strength, that he may not be disowned by her in that hour wherein he most wants her favour: that he may not have wisdom then to learn, when he should be actually wise, and have the benefit and comfort of her light to guide him through the vale of the shadow of death. In order to which we should always remember that excellent advice of St. _Bernard_, _To rejoice in those things when we are young, which we shall not repent of when we are old_.
6. I have now only to add a few prudential advices relating to the practice of a Christian life. Of which the first shall be that of the apostle, _To walk circumspectly_, that is warily and heedfully, with all possible care, caution and exactness. This is such walking as shews we are duly apprehensive of our condition: the danger of which must be allowed to be exceeding great, since besides our own corrupt nature, and the wickedness of the world that surrounds us, we have the prince of darkness for our profest enemy; _even our adversary the devil, who as a roaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour_. He does not tarry ’till the prey comes in his way, but seeks after it, but walks about seeking who is fit to be made a prey of; whose idleness or whose business, whose temper or constitution, whose age or whose carelesness may give him any advantage. He begins with us very early, laying his siege against us in our very infancy. Then he tempts us with sensible objects, and easily increases our natural propension to them. For reason is then in a dead sleep, and sense altogether awake, being in its greatest perfection, by reason of the fineness of the blood and spirits, and the tenderness of the parts, which easily yielding to the impression of sensible objects, endear them more and more to us, and so confirm that _friendship with the world, which is enmity with_ God. This thoughtless age is succeeded by childhood and youth; and then indeed reason begins to awake; but so slowly, that we are all this time, as it were, between sleeping and waking; the weight still hangs upon our temples. Our passions are much too strong for our weak reason to govern, which accordingly our enemy makes his advantage of, and tempts us with the baits of sensuality, with those _youthful lusts_ which ’tis then hard to fly. This boisterous season also blows over, and is followed by manhood. And now indeed reason is stronger and passion cooler, and so the devil changes his former bait for that of pride and ambition, whereby himself fell, and wherewith he assaulted even the Son of God. Now he lifts us up to, and shews us the grandeur and glory of the world, and tries to persuade us what a happiness it would be, could we make a part of that glittering scene. Well, but neither will this last always; our sun soon begins to decline, and old age comes on, the winter of our year, or rather the evening of our short day. And now our reason grows heavy and sleepy again, and our passions also flag with it, hang their wings, and make our flight nearer the earth, as not being able to bear up in the higher regions. We are now no longer fit for our former entertainments, and having seen what little dependance there is on the world, having lost some of our friends, and proved the insincerity of others, this experience, together with the natural sinking of our spirits, makes us grow timorous, jealous and distrustful, and sollicitous to secure ourselves in this forlorn state, and so we stand fairly disposed for covetousness. And accordingly the devil now draws us into this snare, which reigns the more absolute over us, as having us almost entirely to itself, without competition from other vices. Thus our adversary is always intent upon our ruin, meeting us at every turn of our lives, and suiting his temptations to the several states and conditions of them. And therefore it highly concerns us to walk circumspectly, as knowing both the infinite worth of our souls, and the numberless hazards they are exposed to, from which (next to the grace of God) nothing but an extraordinary caution can secure them.
7. And because these hazards are chiefly from sensible objects, my next advice shall be, _To walk by faith, not by sight_; to order your conversation not by what you see of this world, but by what you believe of the next. _Not to look at the things which are seen, but at things that are not seen; because the things that are seen are temporal_, and so do not affect our final state: _but the things that are not seen are eternal_, and so the proper objects of an happiness that is never to expire. A Christian then ought to keep his eye always fixed on his happiness; to walk continually in view of this his end, and have it before him as near as he can, in every action and word, in every deliberate step of his Christian progress: not to content himself with having referred all he does to it once in general; but to renew and repeat the proposal of it, as often as conveniently he can. Beside the habitual reference of his actions to their end, let every prudent Christian be more and more diligent to have an actual regard to it, as far as is possible, in every step of his life. For the having before us that eternal weight of glory, that crown that fadeth not away, must needs quicken our devotion and inflame our zeal, and inspirit us with new life and vigour in the running our Christian course, and help us with ease to overcome all those vain impediments, which the world, the flesh and the devil throw in our way. Nothing shall be able to separate us from our end, or turn us out of the right way to it, if we keep our eye intent upon it, and have it in our view all the way of our Christian walk. For indeed the excellence of it is so transcendent, that nothing of this world can stand together with it, or shine in its light, any more than a feeble star can shine in the presence of the mid-day sun. The greater light swallows up the less; we must lose the one before we can be dazzled with the other; we must intermit the view of our chief good, before any other can appear considerable enough to tempt us.
♦9. And now we are got into the right way, there is no better means of fixing ourselves there, than to keep toward the middle of it, pretty far within the lines, so as not to tread upon the edges: not to go to the outside of what is lawful, but rather to set ourselves in all our actions at the greatest distance from sin, by abstaining from all the appearances and beginnings of it. But chiefly from the beginnings. The full accomplishments of wickedness we have a horror of. But we have not the same dread of the beginnings, and of the things that have a tendency to gross crimes. So we are easily persuaded to begin; and when we have once made an entrance, the progress grows easier and easier. For the next degree being but a degree beyond it, carries as little horror in it as the first; and so the next to that, being a degree farther, carries the like appearance: and so the rest that follow, we measuring every degree not (as we should do) by all the preceding ones which it contains, but only by the last, which it immediately exceeds, considering it only as a degree farther than that, and so as a small thing, till by degrees we slide unawares into the commission of those sins, which looked frightful, and would have _choaked_ us in the lump, but being thus taken by _piece-meal_ are easily swallowed.
♦ point “8.” skipped in text.
*10. And no wonder, since the first liberties we take, the first approaches we make to any sin, inflame our passions, raise our appetites, which were before quiet, and increase our desires of the forbidden object. So that our talk is now harder than it was at first, and we might much easier have forborn the whole, beginning and all, than forbear making a further progress, when we have once begun. And why should we make our duty more difficult and painful than it is? Therefore the wisest way is, not to begin; that being true of all sin, which _Solomon_ observes of strife, _The beginning of it is as when one letteth out water_, which is easily prevented from running at first, but being once let out, the passage grows more open, and the stream more difficult to command. Therefore, says he, _Leave off contention before it be meddled with_, _i. e._ Do not meddle with it at all, it being much easier to have nothing to do with it, than to govern yourself in it. They that once begin, are insensibly carried to do what at first they never designed, and then vainly complain, that God did not preserve them from falling, when they placed their own feet on slippery ground.
11. To conclude: if we will be truly wise, let us set the gospel and example of Christ before us, and endeavour to be as wise in our generation, as the men of this world are in theirs, to be as diligent in pursuing our true and great end, as they are in pursuing their false and little ones. They are intent upon the _present_, and sollicitous to provide for the short _future_ of an uncertain life. Let us be intent upon providing for that future life, which will soon be present, and never past. For this purpose we should retire as much as we can conveniently from the world, and have as little to do with it; we should lay aside every weight, and every incumbrance, and not be _troubled about many things_, that we may the more quietly and entirely attend upon the one thing needful. Not that I plead for a hermit’s solitude, not understanding the agreement of such a state with human nature, nor what authority men have thus to bury themselves alive, and to excommunicate themselves from human society. But so much of solitude as disengages us from the affairs and incumbrances of the world, and places us out of the noise, hurry and bustle of it, and out of the way of its temptations, must certainly be of vastly great advantage to a truly Christian life. Being much abroad may teach us to know _the world_; but retirement only can teach us to know _ourselves_. For to know ourselves, we must converse much with ourselves. Let us therefore _retire_, and when we are alone, let us remember, that we are not alone, for God is with us. And while we think and act as in his presence, solitude has all the safety of company, without the temptations and interruptions. And here let us think much of eternity, and of our nearness to it, of the future judgment, and the two final sentences of that day, of the glorious things that are spoken of the city of God, and the unspeakable misery of being for ever banished from his presence; and lastly, of the thoughts which we shall have of all these things when we come to die. Every man is wise _then_, and has a right sense of things; let us endeavour to have the same _now_, as we shall then wish we had, which is the sum of all Christian prudence.
NICODEMUS: Or, A TREATISE on the FEAR of MAN.
Written in _German_ by _Augustus Herman Franck_.
_To all ministers and teachers in churches and schools, grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father, and our Lord |Jesus Christ|, in the fellowship of the |Holy Ghost|:_
_Dearly beloved brethren_,
GIVE me leave, who am the least of all the servants of Jesus Christ, for the love wherewith God hath loved us in his Son, to dedicate to you the following treatise. For though I be the meanest member in the spiritual body of Christ, (if so much may be allowed me) yet am I thereby made partaker of the life, spirit, and power residing in him as our ever-blessed head. If there be any thing herein conformable to the mind of our great Shepherd, and proceeding from the energy of his Spirit, why should it not be readily received; and if, after a true spiritual trial thereof, you find any thing faulty or imperfect, commend it to the mercy of our great Shepherd, to correct in me, by the gracious influence of his Spirit.
I do not offer this as a piece of great learning. Indeed, the plain truth of my God, set forth in its natural lustre, and the least communication of his power affecting the heart, is infinitely more valuable to me, than all the learning of this world. And my only boasting in the Lord is this, that I have betaken myself to that school wherein the highest wisdom is; to know Jesus Christ and him crucified. And though I, who have scarce learned the first elements thereof, have the boldness to repeat this my lesson in the hearing of all, yet ought it not to be deemed an effect of pride; but the love of my neighbour constraineth me.
My soul hath been many times grieved at the apparent corruption, as of men in general, so of our order in particular; and more especially when I saw that the fear of man is become the epidemical distemper of our teachers. When I reflect on the one hand, with what spirit, with what joy, with what undaunted courage and boldness the antient servants of God set aside all regard of man, and delivered as the ambassadors of the Lord, their message fully and plainly, tho’ it exposed them to the evident hazard of their lives; and on the other, how gently and softly we go about it now, and how little we manifest the truth to the conscience of every man: when I, moreover, consider, how much they suffered with Christ their Lord, for the sake of their testimony; and how the most of us take care to preach so smoothly, as not to incur the least shadow of their sufferings, the difference between us and them ♦appears so exceeding great, that I ♠can not but be astonished at it.
♦ “appeared” replaced with “appears” per Errata
♠ “could” replaced with “can” per Errata
Brethren, I speak with plainness and simplicity. When our Lord and Master was in the world, he was so far from desiring the riches, honours, or pleasures of it, that he was indeed the poorest and most despised among men; entirely spending all the days of his humiliation, in procuring our salvation. And ’tis he that tells us, _Whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple_. We therefore ought to be so many shining lights, by our hearty denial of all the riches, honours, and pleasures of this world; and by employing our lives entirely, in the assistance of our neighbours. But, if, on the contrary, we seek worldly things, then we depart from our glorious pattern; neither is there any thing that doth more effectually deprive us of the blessing of God upon our calling. For sure it is, the more we are concerned for honour, profit, or ease, the less shall we be concerned to promote the good of our neighbour. And as long as our minds are not wholly conformable to the mind of our great Shepherd, it is impossible he should be well pleased with us; for _he trieth the hearts and reins_. On the contrary, did we desire nothing in the world, we should not fear it.
*Did we duly consider, that there is a day before us, when we must give account to the great Bishop of our souls, whether, according to his example, we have had nothing else in our eye but the salvation of mankind; should we not apply ourselves to our duty with another kind of fervour than we have hitherto done? Should we not more effectually clear ourselves from all suspicion of either fearing or desiring any thing in this world? Should we not be more earnest to admonish every one in particular? Should we not wrestle more in our prayers for them? Should we not, as soon as any good desire appeared in any, more readily lend him our helping hand, that the spark of grace might be blown up into a flame? Should not our outward conversation be more holy, and consequently more edifying? Verily, my brethren, I fear we have reason to be ashamed, when we read what one saith, “A Christian ought to be so enkindled and all-flaming with divine love, and, both inwardly and outwardly, so conformable to God, that whenever any one came to him, he might hear nothing from him but God: and his heart and mind ought to be fixed on him by burning love, and so be ready in all things faithfully to obey his will, that such as visited him, though with cold and lukewarm hearts, might be heated, and set on fire by him: as we see cold and dead coals are kindled, when they are put to glowing ones.”
I have opened my mouth, my brethren, and addrest you with the simplicity of a child, and am very willing to appear mean in your eyes; only despise not the truth, which is not mine, but my Lord’s and Saviour’s. I am not ashamed to acknowledge, that _I count not myself to have apprehended, or to be already perfect_. But this I say, (my conscience bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, which also the righteous Judge will testify for me at the great day) that since I have found grace in the eyes of my Lord to perceive my own misery, and the narrow way to escape from it, all my thoughts and endeavours have been bent, in the faithfulness of my heart, to continue therein, to pursue it more eagerly day by day, and, as far as possible, to direct all men to it. I neither despise nor envy any of you that are of the same function with me. Nay, I know many among you to whom I think myself unworthy to do the meanest service. But I know many likewise, whose conversation is not at all conformable to the pattern Christ hath set us. And for these I heartily pray, that God would shew them the things that belong to their everlasting peace. Neither is my heart in the least incensed against them that most unjustly slander and reproach me: but I compassionate them, since we must all one day appear before the same judge. For my part, I cannot call black white; nor take him for a follower of Christ, and a pattern of his flock, in whom I find nothing of the mind that was in Christ.
If any thing hath been vouchsafed to me, it is this, (wherein I heartily rejoice) that I have been made, tho’ in a very low degree, partaker of the sufferings of Christ. And it is the greatest comfort to me, that the men of this world speak all manner of evil of me falsly, loading me with censures and accusations, the groundlessness whereof the Lord will discover at that day.
*Let us all, my brethren, think of this great day, and so even our accounts against it, that we may then appear with joy and confidence: let us cast away all care, but this only. Let us drop all unprofitable contest; and, with united hands, carry on the work of the Lord, being heartily glad to see his glory advanced, be it by ourselves or others. And I beseech God, from the bottom of my heart, to influence you all with a rich measure of his holy Spirit, to sanctify you to himself, and to pour his transcendent blessing upon all your planting and watering. The spirit of love and of truth keep all your hearts, and lead them into the fellowship of Jesus Christ, who alone is able to give that true peace, which the world cannot give.
AUGUST. HERM. FRANCK.
_October 26, 1731._