CHAPTER VII.

_Of the good which arises from the boldness of faith, conquering the fear of man._

1. THE eleventh chapter to the _Hebrews_ lays an ample foundation for reflections on the glorious effects of faith, and on that power of God which hath at all times so exerted itself in true believers: but here it will be necessary to bid you take heed of making God changeable, by saying with the unbelieving world, “This indeed has been done formerly, but now miracles are ceased.” For by this false maxim, suggested from the bottomless pit, the highest dishonour is thrown upon the living God, all his promises are made void, all the examples he hath set before our eyes are absolutely useless and impertinent; yea, and all his calls and allurements to an active faith, are rendered null and insignificant. And whereas, in truth, we have none to blame but ourselves, for not treading in the same footsteps of faith, in which the saints of old walked; and consequently, for not seeing the glory of God as they did, we hereby cast all the blame upon God, and the difference of times: whereas the difference, in reality, lies not in the times, but in the persons.

For though it cannot be said, that every believer now must do the very same works that were done by _Abraham_ or _Moses_, yet ought every one to “_follow the faith_” of these holy men, and to exert the same with full power and energy, in that state and condition wherein God hath placed him, and in those circumstances that daily offer; and in so doing he may be fully assured, that he (as well as they) shall see the glory of God. And with such a heart and mind are the scriptures to be read, and the examples and glorious effects of faith to be considered, that so we may receive strength and holy boldness, more nearly to unite ourselves with God, and to enjoy his infinite love and faithfulness in a more ample and abundant manner.

2. Now because faith, though it be so high and precious a gift of God, is not commonly esteemed according to its dignity, it is the more needful to observe, what the scripture throughout teacheth, that all the good which was ever wrought in the world by man, was done by faith; whereby men are so united to God, that “_all things are possible_” to them. Wherefore it is highly necessary, with all plainness and earnestness, to represent, not only to the world, but to the children of God too, that faith is something far more glorious than reason can conceive or express; for till a man is sensible of this, he is utterly unable to comprehend what an inestimable treasure it brings with it. But when once he comes to know that it is the substance ὑπόστασις, the ground and bottom of things hoped for, whereon, as an immoveable foundation, all the inconceivable goods we hope for, do rest; and an ♦ἔλεγχος, or convincing evidence and testimony of the Spirit, which assures us beyond all doubt of things not seen: I say, where faith is thus known and felt in a man’s heart, then he sees the advantage of that faith which overcometh all fear of man, and is of so large a compass, as to contain all, and more than all we can ask or think.

♦ “ἔλενχος” replaced with “ἔλεγχος”

For then he discovers, that it is faith which delivers a man from all evil of soul or body; and on the other hand, puts him in possession of sovereign bliss, and fills him with the fulness of God; yea, and that whenever (either in the Old or New Testament) he would perform any thing great and glorious, he hath always employed those whom faith had set free from the slavish fear of man. A single man, setting aside the fear of flesh and blood, and going forth in the name of the living God, hath frequently saved a whole nation. And what was more remarkable in the apostles, at their beginning to preach the gospel, than their great boldness; at which the high-priest, scribes, and elders stood amazed? And for this reason they are set before us as examples; teaching, by the victory of their faith, to confess Christ before all men without fear, and bear his cross, that we may partake of his glory.

Reflections upon the conduct of HUMAN LIFE; With reference to learning and knowledge.

Extracted from Mr. NORRIS.

The PREFACE.

SINCE _the great happiness or misery of human life depends wholly upon the right or wrong conduct of it, he that shall point out any of its irregularities or mistakes, is a universal friend, a promoter of the public happiness. And the more severe his censure is, provided it be just, the more serviceable it may be._

_Especially, if the irregularities he points out are not only important, frequent and inveterate, but such as lie secret and unobserved, and have all along passed under the notion of excellencies. He that reflects upon such misconducts as these, obliges by his discovery as well as reproof._

_This consideration has occasioned the following reflections upon the study of learning and knowledge; the greatest faults of which, by a kind of unaccountable superstition are canonized ♦for virtues._

♦ inserted word “for” per Errata

_The truth is, the light that divulges other miscarriages will be sure to hide these. For beside that they are visible only to a few (since none can judge of the faults of the learned without learning) those few that do discern them, have seldom ingenuity enough to acknowledge them. For either they are so proud as not to be willing to own themselves to have been so long under a mistake; or so ill-natured that they don’t care others should be directed to a better way than they themselves have travelled in._

_In the following reflections I have endeavoured to mark out some of these less observed misconducts, wherewith I myself have been too long imposed on, and which after all my conviction (so deep are the impressions of early prejudice) I can hardly yet find power to correct. For education is the great bias of human life, and there is this double witchcraft in it, that ’tis a long time before a man can see any thing amiss in a way he is used to, and when he does, ’tis not very easy to change it._

_I can easily divine how these reflections will be received by some of the rigid votaries of old learning. But if they are of service here and there to an ingenuous and unenslaved spirit, I shall not much regard the magisterial censures of those, whose great and long study has had no better effect upon them, than to make them too wise for conviction._

The First REFLECTION.

_Wherein the general conduct of human life is taxed, for placing learning in such things as are little or nothing perfective of the understanding._

1. AS there are two faculties in man, understanding and will; so there is a double conduit of human life, intellectual and moral. The moral conduit of men has been continually exposed, ever since preaching and writing have been in the world. But it has fared otherwise with the intellectual, which stands not so fair a mark, nor has been so often his. Not that it is really less faulty, but because its faultiness is less notorious, lies further in, and must be drawn forth into view by a chain of consequences, which few have either discernment enough to make, or patience enough to attend to.

2. The chief irregularities of it are three, respecting the end, the means, and the degree of affection.

First, The placing learning in such things as are little or nothing perfective of the understanding.

Secondly, The undue and irregular method of prosecuting what is really perfective of it; and

Thirdly, The too importunate pursuit of knowledge in general.

3. First, Men generally place learning in such things as are little or nothing perfective of the understanding. This, I confess, is a severe charge, as it fastens an imputation of folly upon the learned order: and not only so, but in that very thing wherein they think their wisdom consists. Learned men do indeed often, not only own but affect ignorance in things beside their profession. But to censure them as defective in that one thing they pretend to, to make that their blind side where they think they see clearest, to maintain, that they are not only not really knowing, but that generally they don’t so much as know what true knowledge is; this is so high a charge, that even those who may be convinced of the truth, will scarce forgive the boldness, of it.

4. That the truth of it may appear, I shall first briefly observe, what knowledge is perfective of the understanding, and then shew, that the generality of the world place learning in that which is not so.

5. And, first, I grant the knowledge of all those truths is perfective of the understanding, which are the matter of those arts and sciences, that are built upon stable and immoveable foundations, such as divinity, metaphysics, geometry, together with those unchangeable rules and measures of reason and consequence, which lead us to all other knowledge, and are the subject of that art we term logic. And accordingly I allow him to be a truly learned and knowing man, who has furnished his mind with bright and clear ideas, lodged them orderly and regularly in his head, and settled the relations and consequences of one to another. He that is able to think clearly (for so much a man knows, as he understands distinctly, and no more) to judge truly and solidly, and to reason dependently and consequentially.

6. But this is not the measure which the ♦generality of the world has thought fit to proceed by. Learning is generally placed in a sort of knowledge, widely different from this. The world does not esteem him a learned man, whose learning has cleared his understanding, who is arrived at distinctness of conception, and is a thorough master of notion and discourse. No, it will cost great pains, great labour of mind, and closeness of thinking to attain to this. This therefore must not be learning, but something else must, that is easier to be attained, though little or nothing perfective of the understanding. And in such knowledge it is generally placed.

♦ “gerality” replaced with “generality”

*7. For, first, It is reckoned a notable point of learning to understand variety of languages. This alone gives a man a title to learning, without one grain of sense; and on the other side, let a man be an angel for notion and discourse, yet unless he can express the same thought in variety of words, he may go for a rational, but will by no means be esteemed a learned man. Now is it not a strange thing, that so much stress should be laid on so very a trifle? For what am I the better for being able to tell, what ’tis a-clock in twenty languages? What does this signify to the perfection of my understanding? Words are purely in order to sense: and are therefore of no farther value, than as they help either to learn or to communicate it. Therefore, to affect them for themselves, is to turn the means into the end, than which nothing is more absurd. And yet this vain piece of pedantry has prevailed all the world over, and with some to that degree, that they have confounded ideas with words, and have made all science to terminate in the latter. Thus Mr. _Hobbes_ makes reason to be nothing else, but “_Sequela Nominum_, a well-ordered train of words.” Never certainly was a plainer argument of the great degeneracy of mankind. And tho’ all the multipliers of tongues are not comprehended under this latter charge, yet it may concern them to consider, how great a folly it must be to place learning in that, which is one of the greatest curses upon earth, and which shall utterly cease in heaven.

*8. Again, it passes for an extraordinary part of learning to understand history: that is, in other words, to know what a company of silly creatures called men, have been doing for almost these six thousand years. Now, what is my understanding the perfecter for this? I deny not, that there are some matters of fact, as the more remarkable turns of ecclesiastical history, and the greater revolutions of the civil world, which are of moment to be known; because, by discovering to us the conduct of divine providence, they supply us with occasions of acknowledging and adoring the wisdom and goodness of God. Neither do I deny, that there are many other historical passages, which may be of moment to be known; tho’ not as perfective of our understanding, but as touching our interest. And so it may be of moment to me to know, the clock has struck one, if I have made an assignation at that time; but sure the bare naked theory of the clock’s having struck one, will add but little to my intellectual perfection. The most trivial matter of fact in the world is worth knowing, if I have any concern depending upon it: and the greatest without that, is utterly insignificant. So that ’tis not from perfecting of our understanding, but from the relation they have to our interest, that these things deserve to be known.

*9. I would desire the great magnifiers of history only to answer me this one question. Suppose such and such matters of fact, in the knowing which they perhaps glory more, than the actors themselves did in the doing them, had never been done? Suppose _Fabius_ had never weathered out _Hannibal_ by delays, nor _Cyrus_ took _Babylon_ by draining the river into the ditches: what diminution would this have been to the perfection of their understanding? They cannot say it would have been any. And why then should the knowing them now they are done, be reckoned an addition to it? And yet we find it is so, and that men study these things, not only for their use, (that we allow) but for their mere theory, placing learning in such history as has nothing to commend it, but only that it tells you, such and such things were done. Of this impertinent sort is the greatest part of the _Roman_ and _Grecian_ history: which, had not the world voted it for learning, would no more concern a man to know, than that a bird has dropt a feather upon the _Pyrenean_ mountains.

10. Again, it passes for a notable piece of learning to understand chronology: to be able to adjust the intervals and distances of time, when such a man flourished, when such an action was done, and the like. Now I deny not, but it may concern some to know these things, who have any interest depending upon it. It may concern some to know, for instance, that there is a twofold date of the victory at _Actium_, the one reckoned from the fight there, the other from the taking of _Alexandria_. But however useful it may be to know this, yet certainly as to any intellectual perfection that accrues by it, it must needs be a very unedifying stuffage of the head; altho’ ’tis so generally accounted a great accomplishment and enrichment of it.

*11. There are many other things which the humour of the world has turned up for learning, which ignorance will never be the better for, and which wisdom does not need. Thus ’tis counted learning to have tumbled over a multitude of books, especially if great ones, and old ones, and obscure ones; but most of all, if manuscripts, the recovery of one of which is reckoned so much added to _the common-wealth of learning_, as they call it. Hence a _well-read_ man signifies the very same as a _learned_ man in most men’s dictionaries: and by _well-read_ they don’t mean one that has _read well_, that has cleared and improved his understanding by his reading, but only one that has _read much_, tho’ perhaps he has puzzled and confounded his notions by doing so. Thus again, it goes for learning, to be acquainted with men’s opinions, especially of the ancients; to know what this or that philosopher held, what this or that author says, tho’ perhaps he says nothing but what is either absurd, or obviously true. What, for instance, can be more absurd; than that fancy of _Empedocles_, that there are two semicircles compassing the earth betwixt them, one of fire, the other of air; and that the former makes day, and the latter night? And yet to know this is learning! What can be more obviously true, than that grave doctrine of _Aristotle_, that privation must go before the introduction of the form in all generation? Or, that a thing must lose one form, before it can take another? And yet ’tis learning to know that he taught this! To know the thing is nothing: but to know that _Aristotle_ taught it, that is learning! Nay farther, tho’ I am able to demonstrate the circulation of the blood, or the motion of the earth, yet I shall not be admitted into the order of the learned, unless I am able to tell, that _Copernicus_ discovered the one, and _Harvey_ the other. So much more learned an atchievment it is, to know opinions than things! And accordingly those are reckoned the most learned authors, who have given the greatest specimens of this kind of knowledge. Thus _Picus Mirandula_ is more admired for his examination of the doctrine of the Pagans, than any of them were for what they delivered.

12. Now what an unreasonable imposition is this, that tho’ a man can think and write like an angel himself, yet he must not be accounted a man of learning, unless he can tell what every whimsical writer hath said before him? And how hard will it fall upon those, whose lot is to breathe in the last ages of the world, who must be accountable for all the whims and extravagancies of so many centuries? And yet this is made so great a part of learning, that the learning of most men lies in books rather than in things. And among authors, where one writes upon things, there are twenty write upon books. Nay, some carry this humour so far, that ’tis thought learning to know the very title of books and their editions, with the time and place when and where they were printed. And many there are who value themselves not a little on this mechanical faculty, tho’ they know no more of what is in them, than they do of what is written in the rolls of destiny.

13. From this placing of learning in the knowledge of books, proceeds that ridiculous vanity of multiplying quotations, which is also reckoned another piece of learning, tho’ they are used so impertinently, that there can be no other end in them, but to shew, that the author has read such a book. And yet it is no such convincing evidence of that neither. It being neither new nor difficult, for a man that is resolved upon it, to quote such authors as he never read nor saw. And were it not too odious a truth, I could name several of those author-mongers who pass for men of shrewd learning.

14. These and many other such things (for ’twere endless to reckon up all) are by the majority of the world voted for learning, and in these we spend our education, our study and our time, tho’ they are no way perfective of our understanding. So that in short, the charge of this reflection amounts to thus much, that learning is generally placed in the knowledge of such things, as the intellectual perfection of man is little or nothing concerned in.

The Second REFLECTION.

_Wherein the general conduct of human life is taxed for using undue and irregular methods, in prosecuting what is really perfective of the understanding._

1. IN the preceding reflection the conduct of human life was censured, for placing learning in what is not perfective of the understanding. In the present, it is charged with pursuing what is so, in an undue and irregular manner. The other was an error about the end; this is an error about the means: which are the two hinges upon which all prudence and imprudence turn.

*2. That the truth of this charge may appear, we are first to determine, what is the right method of prosecuting that learning, which is really perfective of understanding. And this, no doubt, must be an application to him, _from whom every good and perfect gift descendeth_. This is the right and the only right method of enquiry after that truth which is perfective of our understanding. For God is the region of truth, and _in him are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge_. This is that great and universal oracle lodged in every man’s breast, whereof the ancient _Urim and Thummim_ was an expressive emblem. This we all may and must consult, if we would enrich our minds with such knowledge as is perfective of the understanding. This is the true method of being truly wise. And it is no other method than what we are advised to, by the substantial wisdom of God. _Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither. I am the light of the world: he that follows me, or_ (as the word more properly signifies) _he that keepeth company with me, walketh not in darkness_.

3. There are three ways of doing this; the first is, by attention; the second, by purity of heart and life; the third, by prayer. The first, attention, _Malebranche_ calls the natural prayer of the soul to God for farther illumination. For indeed it is a silent address and application of the soul to the fountain of light and truth; ’tis an interrogation of the divine oracle, the eternal word of God, and a patient waiting upon him for an answer. ’Tis in a word, an act of intellectual devotion to the Father of Lights, and such as if unfolded, bespeaks him in the words of the royal supplicant, _Give me wisdom that sitteth by thy throne!_

*4. This is the same with thinking or meditating; and as it is the first, so it is the directest and most compendious method of science. For this is to go directly to the spring-head, to the lucid fountain of good. ’Tis to fix the eye of the mind upon the intellectual sun, which must needs be the most ready way to be enlightened. The more heedfully we ♦attend to this, we shall not only discover the more, but also more clearly see what we do discover. So a man that calls only a short careless glance upon the milky way, sees only a confused whiteness. But when he fixes his eye upon it, with steadiness and delay of application, he begins to discern it more distinctly, and a new star every moment rises under his inspection: and still the harder he looks, the more he discerns, ’till he is satiated with the brightness and multitude of light.

♦ “attain” replaced with “attend” per Errata

5. This was the method of the inventers of arts and sciences: they made their way by mere dint of thinking. This is the method that has been used ever since, by the greatest improvers of them; such as _Bacon_, _Boyle_, _Harvey_, _Malebranche_, &c. And we may safely prophesy, if ever any extraordinary advancement be made in them hereafter, it will be done by thinking.

6. The second way is, by purity of heart and life: for as vice not only proceeds from ignorance, but also causes it, by besotting and clouding the understanding, so purity not only proceeds from knowledge, but also produces it, making the soul see more clearly and distinctly. And the same method is recommended in scripture, _Wisdom_, says the wise man, _will not enter into a polluted spirit_. So the angel to _Daniel_, _Many shall be purified and made white, and none of the wicked shall understand, but the wise shall understand_. To this purpose too, is that of our Lord, above repeated; _He that followeth me, walketh not in darkness_; the purity of his heart is a light to his understanding.

7. But to represent this more clearly; there are two ways whereby purity of heart serves to the acquirement of knowledge; by natural efficacy, and by the divine blessing. And first, by natural efficacy, either by clearing the medium, or by assisting the faculty. As to the former, we are assured, not only that the soul now sees through a medium, and that this medium is the body, but likewise that the grossness of this medium hinders the sight of the soul. Whence it follows, that whatever helps this medium, helps the sight of the soul. And this purity does; especially that eminent part of it which consists in chastity and temperance. For first, it composes the passions, especially that of lust, by that the animal spirits, and by that the blood. For the motion of the passions ferments the spirits, and the fermentation of the spirits agitates the blood, and by that agitation raises all the feculent and drossy parts of it, and makes it like a troubled fountain, thick and muddy. And therefore it is, that men in any passion can’t reason so clearly, as when they are in more quiet and silence of spirit. But by purity all this disturbance is allayed, the passions are becalmed, the spirits fixed, the fountain of the blood cleared up, and so all the inner part of the glass, through which we see, becomes more bright and transparent, more apt to transmit the rays of light to the soul, which consequently sees more clearly through it.

8. But this is not all: for purity clears the outward part of the glass too. First by consequence, because the finer the spirits and blood are, the finer will be the threads of the outward veil also. Then more directly; because temperance refines and subtilizes the texture of the body, and diminishes its bulk and grossness, and unloads the soul of a good part of that burthen, which not only presses down her aspirations, but also hinders her sight.

*9. And as purity thus clears the medium, so it also assists the faculty. And that by the same general way, by composing the passions, which otherwise not only trouble and thicken the medium, but also divide and disperse the faculty. For the more things a man desires, the more he will be engaged to think on; and the more he thinks on at once, the more languid and confused will his conceptions be. But purity, by composing the passions, contracts the desires, and by contracting these, it contracts also the thoughts; whereby a man is reduced to a greater unity, simplicity and recollection of mind; and having but few thoughts to divide him, is the better able to think clearly.

10. Purity of heart serves to the acquirement of knowledge, secondly, by the divine blessing. It invites not only the Holy Spirit, but also the Father and the Son, even the whole Godhead, to come and dwell in the soul. This we are assured of from our Lord’s own mouth: _He that loveth me, shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him_. And again, _If a man love me, my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him_. The chaste and good soul shall not only be loved by God, but be also of his council and privacy. This is the beloved disciple, who has the privilege to lean upon the bosom of his Lord, and to be admitted to his most secret communications. And therefore says the psalmist, _The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him_. And of _Ananias_, _Azarias_, and _Misael_, who refused to defile themselves with the king’s meat, it is said, _That God gave them knowledge and skill in all learning and wisdom_.

11. The third and last way of consulting God is by prayer. This also is a method which the scripture advises us to. _If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to every man liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him._ And this we know was the method whereby the wisest of men obtained his unparalleled wisdom. For as wisdom was his choice, so the method of his seeking and gaining it was by prayer.

12. Thus have I designed, and by scripture and reason proved, what is the right method of prosecuting that truth which is perfective of the understanding. And now I think there needs not many words to shew, that as learning is commonly placed in what is not perfective of it, so what is so, is generally prosecuted by undue methods. For whereas the first method of acquiring it is by attention or thinking, this is generally so little regarded, that few men think less, for the most part, than they who are engaged in the professed study of knowledge. This they don’t reckon any part of study, nor any progress in the stage of learning, but only a graver way of being idle. ’Tis then only they study, when they are hanging their heads over an old musty folio, and stuffing their memories with grey sentences and venerable sayings. And thus they spend their time and their pains, and having scrambled through a company of books (most of which perhaps were written to as little purpose as they are read) they think themselves learned men, and the world is too often of their opinion, tho’ they have not made themselves master of any sense or notion, nor are able to demonstrate one single truth upon solid principles, and in a consequential process.

13. And this is the method not only of those who misplace learning, but also of the most of those who place it right. Even these do not generally think for it, but read for it; seek it not in their souls, but in books. I deny not that reading is one way to knowledge; but then ’tis only by accident, as it is a help to thinking. And therefore thinking is the only thing to be regarded even in reading; for reading, as such, is nothing. And then we read to most purpose, when we are thereby most enabled to think. So that thinking is the immediate end of reading, as understanding is of thinking. And yet this method is generally so much inverted, that the main stress is laid upon reading. Nothing but _read, read_, as long as eyes and spectacles will hold; no matter whether the head be _clear_, so it be but _full_.

14. Again, whereas purity of heart and life is another method of attaining true knowledge, ’tis a sad as well as just observation, that this is not only neglected by those who sit down contentedly in ignorance, but also by the generality of those few that addict themselves to the improvement of their minds. Nay, these, in proportion to their number, seem more guilty in this respect than the others, and nothing is so common, as to see men of famed learning, who are yet very corrupt in their tempers and lives. Whence some have fancied learning an enemy to religion, and cried up ignorance as the mother of devotion. And tho’ their conclusion be notoriously absurd, yet it must be owned, the ground on which they build it is too true. Men famed for learning are often as infamous for living; and many that study hard to furnish their heads, are yet very negligent in purifying their hearts: not considering, that there is a moral as well as a natural communication between them; and that they are concerned to be pure in heart and life, not only upon the common account in order to happiness hereafter, but even in order to their own particular end here.

15. Then, lastly, whereas another method of learning is prayer; the generality of students do not apply themselves to this at all. Pray indeed (’tis to be hoped) they do for other things which they think lie more out of their reach; but as for learning, they think they can compass this well enough by their own industry, and the help of good books, without being beholden to the assistance of heaven. But did they attentively consider, that God is truth, ’tis not to be imagined they would be so indifferent in using prayer, or any of the preceding methods of consulting God for his own light.

The Third REFLECTION.

_Wherein the general conduct of human life is taxed with too importunate a pursuit of knowledge in general._

1. HAVING past the two first stages of our intellectual conduct, that of the end ♦and that of the means, and reflected on the irregularities of each, I come now to the third and last, which consists not in the choice of the object, or of the method to it, but in the degree of affection wherewith it is prosecuted. And this part of our conduct is as irregular and faulty, if not more so, than either of the former: and the fault of it is, a too importunate pursuit of knowledge in general.

♦ duplicate word “and” removed

2. This charge is of a larger extent than either of the preceding: those concerning such only, as either misplace the object, or mistake the method of learning. But not only they who err in the placing of learning, or in the way to it, but even they who are right in both come under this censure; they all agree in pursuing it too importunately.

3. In order to make out the truth of this charge it will be necessary first to consider, how far it becomes man to employ himself in the prosecution of knowledge; and then it will be easy to determine, whether our general pursuit of it be immoderate or no. Now for the determination of the former, let us observe the present state of man, the posture wherein he now stands.

4. And, First, The utmost knowledge man can arrive at in this world, by his utmost endeavours, is very inconsiderable.

*God indeed has given us reason enough to distinguish us from the brute creation, and we may improve it so far, as to distinguish ourselves from one another: and so one man may deserve to be called learned and knowing, in comparison of another that is less so. But absolutely speaking, the most that any or all of us either know or can know, is of little consideration. What we know of God is but little; for as the apostle says, _We see through a glass darkly_: what we know of ourselves perhaps is less, and what we know of the world about us, is not much. “We have seen but a few of God’s works,” and we understand yet fewer. There are almost an infinite number of things which we never so much as thought of: and of most things we conceive very darkly and uncertainly; and there is not one thing from the greatest to the least, which we do or can understand throughly. Those that apply their whole study to any one thing, can never come to the end of that; for not only every science, but every particular of each has its unmeasurable depths and recesses. ’Tis confest by a great enquirer into the nature of _antimony_ (as ’tis related by Mr. _Boyle_) “That ’tis impossible for one man to understand throughly that single mineral only.” And if a man can’t understand _all_ of so _little_, how little must he understand of all? Suppose farther, that all the knowledge of all the learned were put together, it would weigh but light. For what one art or science is there, that is brought to any tolerable perfection? And if the common stock be so little, how small a pittance is it that must fall to every particular man’s share? And where is that man, who after all his poring and studying, is able to answer all the questions, I will not say which God put to _Job_, but which may be asked him by the next idiot he meets?

5. ’Tis superfluous, as well as endless, to display the particulars of our ignorance; though indeed, when all accounts are cast up, that will be found to be our best knowledge. This only in general, our life is so short, our progress in learning so slow, and learning itself so long and tedious, and what we do or can know so very little, that the sceptics had much more reason to conclude from the disability of our faculties, and the slightness of our attainments, than from the uncertainty and instability of truth, that there is no knowledge.

*6. But, Secondly, If it were possible for us to attain a considerable measure of knowledge, yet our life is so short and so encumbered, that we could make but little of the enjoyment of it. All the morning of our days is spent in the preliminaries of learning, in mastering words and terms of art, wherein there is nothing but toil and drudgery. And before we can taste any of the fruits of the tree of knowledge, before we can relish what is rational, our sun is got into the meridian, and then it presently begins to decline, and our learning with it. Our light, our strength, and our time make haste to consume; nothing increases now but the shadows, that is, our ignorance and darkness of mind; and while we consider and look about us, the sun sets, and all is concluded in the dark shadow of death. But often the sun is intercepted by a cloud before it sets, and we live backward again, grow weak and childish, silly and forgetful, and unlearn faster than we learned. Or if it chance to shine bright to the last, then we grow too wise for ourselves, and reject the greatest part of what we had learned before, as idle and insignificant.

*7. Thirdly, There is no necessity of being so wonderfully learned and knowing here. ’Tis neither necessary, as enjoined by God, nor as a means to any considerable end. We can be good and we can be happy without it. And lest any advantages in our after-state should be alledged, this makes it more unnecessary than any consideration besides. For though we are never so unlearned now, yet if we know enough to do our duty, we shall in a short time arrive at such a degree of knowledge as is requisite to our supreme perfection, to which our present learning cannot add, and which our present ignorance will not diminish. Perhaps not immediately upon our discharge from the body, though even then there must be a vast enlargement of our understanding; but doubtless, when we are admitted to the vision of God, we shall then commence instantaneously wise and learned, and be fully possest of the tree of knowledge, as well as of the tree of life. For then that glass, through which we now see darkly, shall be laid aside, and the field of truth shall be clearly displayed before us. And though even then there shall be degrees of knowledge, yet the variety of this dispensation shall not proceed by the degree of our knowledge in this life, but by another measure. For,

8. Fourthly, Though there is no necessity of our being so learned and knowing, yet there is of our being good and virtuous. This is necessary, both, as commanded by God, and as a means of our final perfection. And besides, ’tis necessary now, there being no other opportunity for it. If we don’t know here, we may know hereafter, and infallibly shall, if we are but good here. But if we are not good here, we shall neither be good, happy, nor knowing hereafter. The _main_ opportunity for knowledge is _after_ life; the _only_ opportunity of being good is now: and if we take care to improve this, we are secure of the other; but if this is neglected, all is lost. This therefore is indispensably necessary; and ’tis the only thing that is so: and ’tis necessary now; necessary not only to our happiness in general, but also to our intellectual happiness in particular. For,

9. Lastly, Thus stands the case between God and man. Man was made in a state of innocence and perfection, in perfect favour and communion with God, his true good, and in a capacity so to continue. From this excellent state he wilfully fell, and by his fall so disabled himself, that he could not by his own strength repent, and so provoked God, that though he could have repented, yet he could not have been pardoned, without satisfaction made to the divine justice. This satisfaction man was not able to make, nor any other creature for him. Whereupon God in great mercy ordained a mediator, his own Son, God and man, between himself and his lapsed creature; who by the sacrifice of himself should effect two things, answerable to the double necessity of man: first, make repentance available, which otherwise would not have been so; and, secondly, merit grace for him, that he might be able to repent. And this is what is meant by the restoration or redemption of man, which thus far is universal and unconditional.

10. But still, notwithstanding all that this Mediator hath done for him, man is only so far _restored_, as to be put into a pardonable reconcileable state: he is yet only in a capacity or possibility of pardon and reconciliation, which is then, and then only, reduced to act, when he truly believes, _i. e._ with such a faith as is productive of all inward and outward holiness; _with_ which he may, _without_ which he cannot be saved, notwithstanding Christ hath died to save him. For the design of his death was not to make holiness _unnecessary_, but to make it _available_: not to procure a privilege of being saved _without_ it, but that we might be saved _with_ it. If this qualification be wanting, we shall be so far from being any thing advantaged from the redemption purchased by our Mediator, that we shall be accountable for it, to the great aggravation both of our guilt and misery. It therefore highly concerns man to improve with all diligence this great and only opportunity, of adorning his mind with all Christian perfections; since _with_ these, he may be happy, in all his capacities, and _without_ them, he shall not only fall into a state of unutterable misery, but be also accountable for the possibility he had of escaping it, for perversely neglecting so great salvation, so glorious an opportunity of being saved.

11. These things being premised concerning the present state of man: First, That he can know but very little; Secondly, That the enjoyment of that little in a short and encumbered life, is by no means answerable to the labour of acquiring it; Thirdly, That there is no necessity of such a deal of learning and knowledge, either as to this world or the next, and that ere long he shall have his fill of knowledge in the beatific vision, one glance whereof shall instruct him more than an eternal poring on books, and _undistinguish_ the greatest doctor from the most ignorant peasant; Fourthly, That there is an absolute necessity of his being holy, this being the condition not only of his happiness in general, but also of the accomplishment of his understanding in particular: and that now is the only opportunity for it: Lastly, That the attainment of happiness upon this condition, was the purchase of his Saviour’s death, who has also merited grace for his assistance in the performance of it; which if he neglect, he shall not only miss of happiness, but also be answerable for so dear an opportunity of gaining it: from these premises, it will, I think, follow with no less than mathematical evidence.

12. First, That knowledge is not the thing for which God designed man in this station, nor consequently the end of his bestowing upon him those intellectual powers which he has.

Secondly, That the end for which God did design man in this station, and the reason why he bestowed those powers upon him was, that he might so serve him here, as to be rewarded with perfect knowledge hereafter: And, Thirdly, That the principal care and concern of man, both for his own interest, and out of compliance with the design of God, ought to be, to live a Christian life, to accomplish the moral part of his nature, to subdue his passions, to wean himself from the love of the world, to study purity of heart and life, in one word, “To perfect holiness in the fear and love of God.” And in particular, that he ought to pursue knowledge no farther than as ’tis conducive to virtue.

*13. This therefore is the measure to be always observed, in our prosecution of knowledge. We are to study only, that we may be good, and consequently to prosecute such knowledge only as has an aptness to make us so, that which the apostle calls, _The truth which is after godliness_. Whatever knowledge we prosecute beside this, or further than ’tis conducive to this end, though it be, absolutely considered, never so excellent and perfective of our understanding, yet with respect to the present posture and station of man, ’tis a culpable curiosity, an unaccountable vanity, and only a more solemn and laborious way of being idle and impertinent.

14. And this will be found, if well examined, to be nothing different from the censure of the wise preacher, _I gave my heart to know wisdom_, says he, _and I perceived, that this also is vanity and vexation of spirit_. Not that he now first applied himself to the study of wisdom. No, he had been inspired with that before, and by the help of it had discovered the vanity of all other things. But that wisdom which saw thro’ all other things, did not as yet perceive the vanity of itself. He therefore now gave his heart to _know_ wisdom, that is, to reflect upon it, and to consider whether this might be excepted from his general censure, and struck out of the scroll of vanities. And upon deep reflection, he found that it could not, and that even this also was as much a vanity as any of the rest. Not that this proposition is to be understood absolutely, but with respect to the present posture of man. Neither can it be understood of all knowledge even in this life; some knowledge being necessary to qualify him for happiness in the next. It must therefore be understood of all that knowledge, which contributes not to that great end. So that with these two necessary limitations, the sense of it is plainly this, that to man in this present juncture, all knowledge which does not contribute to the interest of his after-state, is vanity and vexation of spirit.

*15. For to what purpose should we study so much, since after all we can know so little? Since our life is as much too short for enjoying that little knowledge we _have_, as for compassing what we would _have_; and withal, since there lies no manner of obligation or necessity upon us to do thus? But (which is what I would most of all inculcate) to what purpose imaginable should we be so vehement in the pursuit of learning, of any learning but what is of use to the conduct of life, considering these two things, First, That ’tis but to stay a little while, and we shall have all that knowledge gratis, which we so unsuccessfully drudge for here, to the neglect of more important exercises; and, Secondly, That there is such an absolute necessity of being good, and that this short uncertain life is the only time for it, which if neglected, this great work must be undone for ever. Upon the former consideration, this studious bookish humour, is like laying out a great sum of money, to purchase an estate which, after one weak, dropping life will of course fall into hand. Upon the latter, ’tis as if a man that was riding post upon business of life and death, should, as he passes through a wood, stand still to listen to the singing of a nightingale, and so forget the only business of his journey.

16. ’Tis most certain, the cases here supposed are as great instances of folly as can well be conceived. And yet (however it comes to pass that we are not sensible of it,) ’tis equally certain that we do the very same, that we are too much concerned in the application; and that to most of us it may be truly said, _Thou art the man!_

17. For what difference is there between him who now labours and toils for that knowledge, which in a little time he shall be easily and fully possessed of, and him that dearly buys an estate, which would otherwise come to him after a short interval? Only this; that he who buys the estate, though he might have spared his money, however gets what he laid it out for. His expence indeed was _needless_, but not in _vain_. Whereas he that drudges in the pursuit of knowledge, not only toils for that which in a short time he shall have, and in abundance, but which after all he can’t compass, and so undergoes a _vain_ as well as _needless_ labour.

*18. Again, What difference is there between him, who when he is upon business of life and death, shall alight from his horse, and stand to hear a nightingale sing, and him who having an eternity of happiness to secure, and only this point of time to do it in, shall yet turn virtuoso, and set up for learning and curiosity? ’Tis true the nightingale sings well, and ’twere worth while to stand still and hear her, were I disengaged from more concerning affairs; but not when I am upon life and death. And so knowledge is an excellent thing, and would deserve my study and time, had I any to spare; but not when I have so great an interest as that of my final state depending upon the good use of it. My business _now_ is not to be learned, but to be good.

*19. For is my life so long, am I so _over-stocked_ with time, or is my depending interest so little, or so easily secured, that I can find leisure for unnecessary curiosities? Is this conduct agreeable to the present posture of man, whose entrance into this world, and whose whole stay in it is purely in order to another state? Or would any one imagine this to be the condition of man by such a conduct? Shall a prisoner, who has but a few days allowed him to make a preparation for his trial, spend that little opportunity in _cutting_ and _carving_, and such like mechanical contrivances? Or would any one imagine such a man to be in such a condition, near a doubtful trial of life and death, whom coming into a prison he should find so employed? And yet is there any thing more absurd in this, than to have a man, who has so great a concern upon his hands, as the preparing for eternity, all busy and taken up with quadrants and telescopes, furnaces, syphons and air-pumps?

20. When we would expose any signal impertinence, we commonly illustrate it by the example of _Archimedes_; who was busy in making mathematical figures on the sands of _Syracuse_, while the city was stormed by _Marcellus_, and so, tho’ particular orders were given for his safety, lost his life by his unseasonable study. Now, I confess there was absurdity enough in this instance, to consign it over to posterity: but had _Archimedes_ been a Christian, I should have said, that the main of his impertinence did not lie _here_, in being mathematically employed when the enemy was taking the city, but in laying out his thoughts and time in so unconcerning a study, while he had no less a concern upon him, than the securing his eternal interest, which must be done now or never. Nothing certainly is an impertinence if this be not, to hunt after knowledge in such a juncture as this!

21. Many other proceedings in the conduct of life, are condemned as vanity and impertinence, though not half so inconsistent with the character of man, nor so disagreeable to his present posture. The pens of moral writers have been all along employed against them who spent their short and uncertain lives, which ought to be spent in pursuing an infinitely higher interest, in gaping up and down after honour and preferments, in long and frequent attendances at court, in raising families, in getting estates, and the like. These are condemned not only for their particular viciousness, as crimes of ambition and covetousness, but for what they have all in common, as they are misspendings of time, and unconcerning employments.

22. Now I would fain know, whether any of these be more expensive of our time, more remote from the main business of life, and consequently more impertinent, than to be busily employed in the niceties and curiosities of learning? And whether a man that loiters away six weeks in court-attendances, be not every whit as _accountably_ employed, as he that spends the same time in solving a mathematical question, as Mr. _Des Cartes_ in one of his epistles confesses himself to have done? Why should the prosecution of learning be the only thing excepted from the vanities and impertinences of life?

23. And yet so it is. All other unconcerning employments are cried down merely for being so, as not consistent with the present state of man, with the character he now bears. This alone is not content with the reputation of innocence, but stands for positive merit and excellence. To say a man is a lover of knowledge, and a diligent enquirer after truth, is thought almost as great an encomium as you can give him; and the time spent in the study, though in the search of the most impertinent truth, is reckoned almost as laudably employed as that in the chapel. ’Tis learning only that is allowed (so inconsistent with itself is human judgment) not only to divide, but to devour the greatest part of our short life; and that is the only thing which with credit and public allowance stands in competition with the study of virtue: nay, by the most is preferred before it, who had rather be accounted learned than pious.

*24. But is not this a strange competition? We confess that knowledge is a glorious excellence. Yet rectitude of will is a far greater excellence than brightness of understanding: and to be good, is a more glorious perfection than to be wise and knowing, this being if not the only, certainly the principal difference between an angel and a devil. _’Tis far better_, to use the expression of Mr. _Poiret_, _like an infant without much reasoning, to love much, than like the devil, to reason much without love_.

25. But suppose knowledge were a more glorious excellence than it is; suppose it were a greater perfection than virtue; yet still this competition would be utterly against reason; since we can’t have the former now _in any measure_, and shall have it hereafter _without measure_: but the latter we may have _now_ (for we may _love much_ tho’ we cannot _know much_) and can’t have it _hereafter_. Now the question is, whether we ought to be more ♦sollicitous for that intellectual perfection, which we can’t have _here_ and shall have _hereafter_; or that moral perfection, which we may have _here_, and cannot have _hereafter_? And I think we need not consult an oracle, or conjure up a spirit, to be resolved.

♦ “solicitious” replaced with “sollicitous” for consistency

*26. This consideration alone is sufficient to justify the measure we have prescribed for our intellectual conduct, that we ought to prosecute knowledge no farther than as it conduces to virtue: and consequently, that whenever we study to any other purpose, or in any other degree than this, we are unaccountably, impertinently, I may add, sinfully imployed. For this is the whole of man, _To fear God and keep his commandments_, the whole of man in this station particularly, and consequently this ought to be the scope of all his studies and endeavours.

27. And accordingly it is observable, that the scripture, whenever it makes mention of wisdom, with any mark of commendation, always means by it either religion itself, or such knowledge as has a direct influence upon it. Remarkable to this purpose is the 28th chapter of _Job_; where having run thro’ several instances of natural knowledge, he adds, _But where shall wisdom be found, and where is the place of understanding_? As much as to say, that in none of the other things mentioned, did consist the wisdom of man. Then it follows, _Man knoweth not the price thereof, neither is it found in the land of the living. The depth saith, It is not in me, and the sea saith, It is not in me._ Not in the depths of learning, nor in the recesses of speculation, _Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living. Destruction and death say we have heard of the fame thereof with our ears_: as much as to say, that after this life, and then only, unless perhaps about the hour of death, men begin to have a true sense and lively relish of this wisdom. But in the mean time, _God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof_. And unto man he said, _Behold, the fear of the Lord that is wisdom, and to depart from evil, that is understanding_! To man he said: had it been to another creature, suppose an angel, in a state of security and confirmation, he would perhaps have recommended for wisdom the study of nature, and the arcana of philosophy. But having to do with man, a probationary, unfixed creature, that shall be either happy or miserable eternally, according as he demeans himself, in this short time of trial, the only wisdom he advises to such a creature in such a station, is to study religion and a good life.

28. From authority let us descend to example: and two I would particularly recommend, of men both eminently wise and learned; I mean _Moses_ and St. _Paul_. The latter professedly declares, _I determine to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified_. And the former complaining of the gross ignorance of his people, breaks out into this passionate wish. _O that they were wise! that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!_

29. _Moses_ had been bred a scholar as well as a courtier, and was well instructed in all the secrets of philosophy. And besides the advantages of _Pharaoh_’s court, he had God himself for his tutor; he had conversed personally with his maker, and therefore must needs be supposed to know what was true wisdom. But he does not make it consist in courtly education, or the mysteries of philosophy; but in considering our latter end. He wishes that his people were wise; and to this end does not wish, that they were as well-bred, or as learned as himself, but only that they understood this, this one thing, that they would consider their latter end. This he makes the summary and abstract of all wisdom. Not unlike _Plato_, who defines philosophy, _the theory of death_.

30. And here, if a short digression may be dispensed with, I would observe, how much _Plato_ is in the right, and what an excellent part of wisdom it is, to consider death seriously. To make this distinctly appear, I shall shew first, that the consideration of death is the most proper exercise for a wise man, and secondly, that it is the most compendious way of making him wise that is not so.

31. First, It is the most proper exercise for a wise man. Wisdom consists in a due estimation of things; which then are duly estimated, when they are rated, both as they are in themselves, and as they are in relation to us. If they are great and extraordinary in themselves, they deserve to be considered for their own sakes; if they nearly relate to us, they deserve to be considered for ours. And on both these accounts, death and its consequences, are highly deserving a wise man’s thoughts.

32. For, first, they are in themselves great and extraordinary transactions, and as such, deserve the attentive consideration, even of a stander by, of any other indifferent being, suppose an angel; even though he were no otherwise concerned in it, than as ’tis a great event, a noble and wonderful scene of providence. On this single account, death is as fit a subject for the contemplation of a wise man, as any in nature.

33. Or if there be within the sphere of nature, things of a greater appearance, yet there is none wherein man is so nearly concerned. Since on this depends his eternal happiness or ruin. Nothing deserves so much to be considered by him, whether therefore we regard the greatness of the thing itself, or its greatness with respect to us, the consideration of death is as proper an exercise as a wise man can be employed in.

34. And as ’tis so fit an employment for him that is wise already, so, secondly, it is the most compendious way of making him wise that is not so. For all wisdom is in order to happiness; and to be truly wise, is to be wise unto salvation. Whatever knowledge contributes not to this, is quite besides the mark. It is, as the apostle calls it, _Science falsely so called_. The knowledge itself is vain, and the study of it impertinent.

35. Now the only way to happiness is a good life; and consequently all wisdom being in order to happiness, that is the true, and the only true wisdom, that serves to the promoting it. That therefore is the most compendious way of making a man wise, which soonest makes him good. And nothing does this so soon and so well, as the serious and habitual consideration of death. And therefore says the wise man, _remember death and corruption, and keep the commandments_: The shortest compendium of holy living that ever was given. As if he had said, many are the admonitions of wise and good men, for the moral conduct of life. But would you have a short and infalible direction? Remember death and corruption. Do but remember this, and forget all other rules if you _will_, and your duty if you _can_.

36. And what is here remarked by one wise man, is consented to by all. Hence that common practice among the antients, of placing sepulchres in their gardens, and of using that celebrated motto, _Memento mori_. Hence that modern as well as antient custom, of putting emblems of mortality in churches and other public places: by all which is implied, that the consideration of death is the greatest security of a good life. Indeed what other considerations do by parts, this does at a blow. It at once defeats the world, the flesh, and the devil. For how can the world captivate him, who seriously considers that he is a stranger in it, and shall shortly leave it? How can the flesh insnare him, who has his sepulchre in his eye, and reflects on the cold lodging he shall have there? And how can the devil prevail on him, who remembers that he shall die, and then enter on an ♦unchangeable state of happiness or misery, according as he has either resisted, or yielded to his temptations? Of so vast consequence is the constant thinking upon death, above all other, even practical meditation: and so great reason had _Moses_ for placing the wisdom of man in the consideration of his latter end.

♦ “unchangable” replaced with “unchangeable” for consistency

*37. But to return. I now persuade myself, that from the character of man, and his present circumstances, as well as from divine authority, it evidently appears, that however natural our desire of knowledge is, this appetite is to be governed, as well as those that are sensual; that we ought to indulge it only so far, as may tend to the conducting our lives, and the fitting us for that happiness which God hath promised, not to the learned, but to the good: and that if it be gratified to any other purpose, or in any other measure than this, our curiosity is impertinent, our study immoderate, and the tree of knowledge still a forbidden plant.

38. And now having stated the measure of our affection to, and enquiry after learning and knowledge, it remains to be considered, how much ’tis observed in the general conduct of our studies. ’Tis plain, it is not observed at all. For these two things are notorious: First, That very little of what is generally studied, has any tendency to living _well_ here or happily hereafter. And, Secondly, That these very studies which have no religious influence upon life, do yet devour the greatest part of it. The best and most of our time is devoted to dry learning; this we make the course of our study, the rest is only by the by. And ’tis well if what is practical or devotional, can find us at leisure upon a broken piece of a Sunday or holiday. The main current of our life runs in studies of another nature, that don’t so much as glance one kind ♦aspect upon good living. Nay, ’tis well if some of them don’t hinder it. I am sure so great and so good a man as St. _Austin_ thought so, who speaking of the institution and discipline of his youth, has these remarkable words, “_I learnt in those things many useful words; but the same might have been learnt in matters that are not vain: and that indeed is the safe way, wherein children ought to be trained up. But wo unto thee thou torrent of |custom|! Who is able to resist thee! How long will it be before thou art dried up? How long wilt thou roll along the sons of |Eve|, into a great and formidable sea, which they can hardly pass over? Have I not, in obedience to thee, read of |Jupiter| thundring and fornicating at the same time? And yet, O thou hellish torrent, the sons of men are still tossed in thee, and are invited by rewards to learn these things! The pretence indeed is, that this is the way to learn words, and to get eloquence and the art of persuasion. As if we might not have known these words, |Golden Shower|, |lap|, the temple of |heaven|, without reading of |Jupiter|’s being made a precedent for whoring? This immorality does not at all help the learning of the words: but the words greatly encourage the committing the immorality. Not that I find fault with the words themselves; they are pure and choice vessels: but with that wine of error, which in them is handed and commended to us by our sottish teachers. And yet unless we drank of it, we were beaten, nor had we any sober judge to appeal to. And yet, I, O my God, in whose presence I now securely make this recollection, willingly learnt these things, and like a wretch delighted in them, and for this I was called a |good, hopeful boy|._” By this you may see what the judgment of this holy and venerable person was in his private retirements, and at the most serious intervals of his life, concerning the general course of those studies, which draw out the first runnings of our age, and which are of so great credit and authority in the world, as to go under the name of ingenious and liberal education. You see he not only disapproves them, but reckons them among those sins and irregularities of his youth, whereof he thought himself obliged to make a particular confession in this his great penetential.

♦ removed the word “of” per Errata

39. And here let me not be thought immodest, if upon great consideration and full conviction, I presume to tax the management of our publick schools. Many miscarriages I might note, but I shall concern myself only with those, which the principles here laid down lead me to consider. And these we may comprehend under two general heads of complaint.

I. That they take up so much of our time.

II. That they teach us such frivolous and unprofitable things as they do.

In relation to the first, I can’t with any patience reflect, that out of so short a time as that of human life, consisting, it may be of 50 or 60 years (for where one lives longer, hundreds come short) 19 or 20 shall be spent between the dictionary and the lexicon, in hammering out a little _Latin_ and _Greek_, and in learning a company of poetical fictions and fantastick stories. Were these things worth knowing, yet ’tis barbarous and inhuman, to make people spend so much of their little stock of time upon them. This is to _make a cure_ of human ignorance, and to deal with the infirmities of the mind, as some ill surgeons do with the wounds of the body. If one were to judge of the life of man by the proportion of it spent at school, one would think the _Antidiluvian_ mark were not yet out, and that we had a prospect of at least 900 or 1000 years before us. The truth is, ’tis an intolerable abuse it should be so; and were the age as wise as it pretends to be, it would never suffer it: especially considering what late examples we have had of more compendious methods beyond the seas. It does not become me to project a scheme of school-discipline; I leave this to abler heads. Only in the mean time I may venture to say, that the common way is a very great tax upon human life; so large a portion of which can very ill be spared, to be lavished away in the first elements of learning.

*But the greatest complaint against these seminaries is, the frivolousness of the things they teach. Not only the spending so much time on the things they teach is blame-worthy, but their teaching such things at all. Setting opinion and fancy aside, what real improvement is it to the mind of a rational creature, to be overlaid with words and phrases, and to be full charged with poetical stories and dreams? How many excellent and useful things might be learnt, while boys are _thumbing_ and _murdering Hesiod_ and _Homer_, which ♦then they do not understand, and which when they do, they will throw by and despise? And that justly too: for of what signification is such stuff as this, to the accomplishment of a reasonable soul? What improvement can it be to my understanding, to know the amours of _Pyramus_ and _Thisbe_, or of _Hero_ and _Leander_? Do men retain any value for these things, when they grow up, or endeavour to preserve the memory of them? And why must poor boys ♠be condemned to the drudgery of learning what when they are men they must and will unlearn? Why must they be forced with so great expence of time and labour, to learn ♣such things as are of no standing use? So ♥far from that, they are dangerous, as well as unprofitable. For I appeal to the common sense and experience of mankind, whether it be not dangerous in the highest degree, to entertain the gay catching fancies of boys, with the amorous scenes of the poets? Whether it be safe, to season their green imaginations with such images as are there painted to the life? Is not this rather the direct way to corrupt them, to sow in their tender minds the seeds of impurity, to increase their inbred propensities to evil, and lay a standing foundation for debauchery? Let any man but consider human nature as it comes down to us from _Adam_, and tell me whether he thinks a boy is fit to be trusted with _Ovid_? I do not understand upon what principle, either of prudence or piety, such books as these should be read by any; but least of all by boys, whose soft minds are so susceptible of any ill impression. Far better were it they should continue ignorant, than that their understandings should be accomplished at the hazard of their morals; upon which such studies as these can derive no very wholsome influence. And yet to these our youth is dedicated, and in these some of us employ our riper years, and when we die, this very thing makes one part of our funeral eulogy, that we were so diligent and indefatigable in our studies, and so inquisitive in the search of knowledge, perhaps that we procured an early interment by it; when, according to the principles before laid down, we were as impertinently, though not so innocently employed all the while, as if we had been so long picking straws in _Bedlam_.

♦ “when” replaced with “then” per Errata

♠ inserted word “be” per Errata

♣ “luch” replaced with “such”

♥ inserted “far from” per Errata

40. The sum of all this is: the measure of prosecuting learning and knowledge, is their usefulness to a good life. Consequently, all prosecution of them beyond or beside this end, is impertinent and immoderate. But such is the general prosecution of learning and knowledge, as is plain by appealing to the general conduct of study. It evidently follows, that the intellectual conduct of human life is justly chargeable with an immoderate and impertinent pursuit of knowledge.

The CONCLUSION.

TO what a narrow compass, by virtue of the preceding reflections, are these three things reduced, which use to take up so large a room, _viz._ Learning itself, the method of learning, and the desire and prosecution of learning? These indeed are great retrenchments, but such as are just and necessary to the regulation of our intellectual conduct.

And now who can forbear making these two observations, 1. That this bookish humour, which every where so prevails, is one of the spiritual diseases of mankind, one of the most malignant relics of original depravation: it carrying in it the very stamp and signature of _Adam_’s transgression, which owed its birth to an inordinate desire of knowledge, 2. That those who have eyes, may in great measure spare them, and they who have not, should not much lament the want of them, upon account of learning.

For my own part, I am so thoroughly convinced of the certainty of the principles here laid down, that I look upon myself as not only under a particular obligation, but almost a necessity of conducting my studies by them. The last of which has left such a deep impression upon me, that I now intend to follow the advice of the Heathen, (_Marcus Antoninus_, as I remember) ♦Τὴν τῶν Βιβλίων δίψαν ῥῖψον. _Rid thyself of the thirst after books_; and to study nothing at all but what serves to the advancement of piety and a good life.

♦ “Τὴν τῶν Βιϐλίων δίψαὑ ρίψον” replaced with “Τὴν τῶν Βιβλίων δίψαν ῥῖψον”

I have now spent about 13 years in the most celebrated university in the world; in pursuing both such learning as the _academical_ standard requires, and as my private genius inclined me to. But in truth, when I think on my past intellectual conduct, I am as little satisfied with it as with my moral; being very conscious, that the greatest part of my time has been employed in unconcerning curiosities, such as derive no degree of moral influence upon the soul that contemplates them.

But I have now a very different apprehension of things, and intend to spend my uncertain remainder of time, in studying only what makes for the moral improvement of my mind, and regulation of my life: being not able to give an account, upon any rational and consistent principles, why I should study any thing else.

*More particularly, I shall apply myself to read such books as are rather persuasive than instructive; such as warm, kindle, and enlarge the affections, and awaken the divine sense in the soul; as being convinced by every day’s experience, that I have more need of heat than of light. Though were I for more light, still I think this would prove the best method of illumination, and that when all is done the love of God is the best light of the soul. _A man may indeed have knowledge without love; but he that loves, though he want sciences humanly acquired, yet he will know more than human wisdom can teach him, because he has that master within him who teacheth man knowledge._

THE LIFE OF GOD In the SOUL of MAN.

_Mistakes about religion._

1. I CANNOT speak of religion, but I must lament, that among so many pretenders to it, so few understand what it means; some placing it in the understanding, in orthodox notions and opinions; and all the account they can give of their religion is, that they are of this, or the other persuasion, and have joined themselves to one of those many sects whereinto Christendom is most unhappily divided: others place it in a constant course of external duties, and a model of performances; if they live peaceably with their neighbours, keep a temperate diet, observe the returns of worship, frequenting the church, or their closet, and sometimes extend their hands to the relief of the poor, they think they have sufficiently acquitted themselves: others again put all religion in rapturous heats, and all they aim at is, to pray with passion, and to be affected with those kind and melting expressions wherewith they court their Saviour, till they persuade themselves that they are mightily in love with him. Thus are these things, which have any resemblance of piety, and, at best, are but means for obtaining it, or particular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for the whole of religion; nay, sometimes wickedness and vice pretend to that name. I speak not now of those gross impieties wherewith the Heathens were wont to worship their gods: there are but too many Christians, who would consecrate their vices, and hallow their corrupt affections; whose rugged humour and sullen pride, must pass for Christian severity; whose fierce wrath, and bitter rage against their enemies, must be called holy zeal; whose petulancy towards their superiors, or rebellion against their governors, must have the name of Christian courage and resolution.

_What religion is._

2. But certainly religion is quite another thing; and they who are acquainted with it, will entertain far different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows of it. They know, by experience, that true religion is an union of the soul with God; a real participation of the divine nature; or, in the apostle’s phrase, _Christ formed within us_. Briefly, I know not how the nature of religion can be more fully expressed, than by calling it a _divine life_; and, under these terms, I shall discourse of it, shewing first, how it is called a _life_, and then how it is termed _divine_.

_Its permanency and stability._

3. I choose to express it by the name of _life_, first, because of its permanency and stability. Religion is not a sudden start or passion; tho’ it transport a man to extraordinary performances. There are few but have convictions of the necessity of doing something for the salvation of their souls, which may push them forwards some steps with a great deal of haste; but anon, they flag and give over; they did shoot forth, fresh and high, but are quickly withered, because they had no root in themselves. These sudden fits may be compared to the convulsive motions of bodies newly beheaded; which, however violent and impetuous, can be of no long continuance: whereas the motions of holy souls are constant and regular, proceeding from a permanent and lively principle. It is true this divine life continueth not always in the same strength and vigour, yet it is not extinguished; nor are holy men abandoned to the power of those corrupt affections, which sway the rest of the world.

_Its freedom and unconstrainedness._

4. Again, religion may be termed _life_, because it is an inward, free, and self-moving principle; and those who have it, are not acted only by external motives, driven merely by threatnings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully inclined to that which is good, and delight in the performance of it. The love which a pious man bears to God, and goodness, is not so much by virtue of a command enjoining it as by a new nature prompting him to it; nor doth he pay his devotions as a tribute, to appease the divine justice; but these religious exercises are the proper emanations of the divine life, the natural employments of a new-born soul. He prays, and gives thanks, and repents not only because these things are commanded, but because he is sensible of his wants, and of the divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sinful life. His charity is not forced, nor his alms extorted from him; his love makes him willing to give, and, though there were no outward obligations, his _heart would devise liberal things_. Injustice, or intemperance, and all other vices, are as contrary to his temper, as the basest actions to the most generous spirit: so that I may well say with St. _John_, _Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin: for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God_.¹ Though religious persons do much eye the law of God, and have a great regard unto it, yet it is not so much the sanction of the law, as its purity and goodness, which prevail with them. They account it excellent and desirable in itself; and that in keeping of it there is great reward. And that divine love wherewith they are acted, makes them become a law unto themselves.

Quis legem det amantibus? Major est amor lex ipse sibi.

_Who shall prescribe a law to those that love?_ _Love’s a more powerful law, which doth them move._

¹ 1 John iii. 9.

5. In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is, in some measure, applicable to his followers, that it is their _meat and drink to do their Father’s will_.¹ And as the natural appetite is carried out towards food, though we should not reflect on the necessity of it; so are they carried, with a natural and unforced propension toward that which is good and commendable. It is true, external motives are of great use to stir up this inward principle, especially in its infancy; when ’tis often so languid, that the man himself can scarce discern it, hardly being able to move one step forward, but when he is pushed by his hopes, or his fears; by the pressure of an affliction, or the sense of a mercy; by the authority of the law, or the persuasion of others: yet, if such a person be conscientious and uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groaning under the sense of his dulness, these are the first motions of the divine life; which, though it be faint and weak, will surely be cherished by the influences of heaven, and grow unto greater maturity. But he who is utterly destitute of this inward principle, and contents himself with those performances whereunto he is prompted by education or custom, or the fear of hell, can no more be accounted a religious person, than a puppet can be called a man. This forced and artificial religion is commonly heavy and languid, like the motion of a weight forced upward. It is scant and niggardly, especially in those duties which do violence to mens inclinations; for those slavish spirits will be sure to do no more than is absolutely required; ’tis a law that compels them, and they will be loth to go beyond what it stints them to; nay, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as may leave them the greatest liberty. Whereas the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from such peevish and narrow reckonings; and he who hath given up himself entirely unto God, will never think he doth too much for him.

¹ John iv. 34.

_Religion a divine principle._

6. By this time, I hope, it appears, that religion is, with reason, termed _a life_, or vital principle; and that we are to distinguish betwixt it, and that obedience which is constrained, and depends upon external causes. I come next to give an account why I term it _a divine life_: and so it may be called, not only in regard of its fountain and original, having God for its author, and being wrought in the souls of men, by the power of his Holy Spirit; but also in regard of its nature, religion being a resemblance of the divine perfections, the image of the Almighty shining in the soul of man: nay, it is a real participation of his nature, it is a beam of the eternal light, a drop of that infinite ocean of goodness; and they who are endued with it, may be said to have _God dwelling in their souls, and Christ formed within them_.

_What the natural life is._

7. Before I descend to a more particular consideration of this, it will be fit to speak a little of that natural or animal life which prevails in those who are strangers to the other: and by this I understand nothing else, but our inclination and propension towards those things, which are pleasing to nature; or self-love issuing forth, and spreading itself into as many branches as men have several appetites and inclinations. The root and foundation of the animal life I reckon to be sense, as it is opposed to faith, and importeth our perception of things, that are either grateful or troublesome to us. Now these animal affections, as they are implanted in us by nature, are not vicious or blameable; nay, they are instances of the wisdom of the Creator, furnishing his creatures with such appetites as tend to the preservation and welfare of their lives. These are instead of a law to the brute beasts, whereby they are directed towards the ends for which they were made. But man, being made for higher purposes, becomes criminal when he is transported by the inclinations of this lower life, to neglect the more noble designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not wholly to be destroyed, but to be over-ruled by a more excellent principle: and the difference betwixt a religious and wicked man is, that in the one the divine life bears sway; in the other the animal prevails.

_The different tendencies of the natural life._

8. But it is strange to observe to what different courses this natural principle carries those who are guided by it, according to the divers circumstances that concur with it to determine them. And the not considering this, frequently occasions dangerous mistakes, making men think well of themselves, by reason of that seeming difference which is betwixt them and others. Whereas their actions all the while flow from one and the same original. If we consider the natural temper of men, we find some airy, frolicksome, and light, which makes their behaviour extravagant and ridiculous; whereas others are serious and severe, and their whole carriage gains them reverence and esteem. Some are of a rugged, and morose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves, nor endure that others should be so; while others have a sweetness in their natures, and find the greatest pleasure in the endearments of society, and the mutual complacency of friends. And it is well that nature hath provided this complectional tenderness, to supply the defect of true charity in the world, and to incline men to do something for one anothers welfare. Again, in regard of education, some have never been taught to follow any other rules, than those of pleasure or advantage; but others are enured to observe the strictest rules of decency and honour.

9. In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment of mere natural men that arises from the strength or weakness of their judgment. Intemperance and lust, injustice and oppression, and all those other impieties which abound in the world, are the effect of the _animal life_ when it is neither over-powered by religion, nor governed by natural reason? But if it once take hold of reason, and get judgment to be of its party, it will disdain gross vice, and spring up unto fair imitations of virtue. But this is not all: this natural principle, by the help of reason, may take a higher flight, and come nigher to religion. It may incline a man to the diligent study of divine truths: for why should not these, as well as other speculations, be grateful to inquisitive minds? It may make men zealous in maintaining and propagating such opinions as they have espoused. It may make them delight to hear and compose excellent discourses about the matters of religion; for eloquence is very pleasant, whatever be the subject; nay, some it may dispose to a kind of devotion. The glorious things that are spoken of heaven; the similitudes made use of in scripture, of crowns and scepters, and rivers of pleasure, may affect a man’s fancy, and make him wish to be there, tho’ he neither understand nor desire those spiritual pleasures which are shadowed forth by them: and when such a person believes that Christ has purchased those glorious things for him, he may feel a kind of tenderness and affection, and imagine he is mightily enamoured with him; and yet all the while continue a stranger to the holy temper and spirit of the blessed Jesus.

10. To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a man’s life pleasant, or himself eminent in the world; but _this_ natural principle, assisted by reason, may prompt him to it. And though I do not condemn these things in themselves; yet it concerns us nearly to know their nature, both that we may keep within bounds, and that we may learn never to value ourselves on the account of such attainments, nor lay the stress of religion upon our natural appetites or performances.

_Wherein the divine life doth consist._

11. It is now time to return to the consideration of that _divine life_, that _life which is hid with Christ in God_, and therefore hath no glorious shew or appearance in the world, but to the natural man seems mean and insipid. As the animal life consists in that narrow love which is terminated on a man’s self, and in his propension to those things that are pleasing to nature; so the divine life stands in an universal affection, and in the mastery over our natural inclinations. The root of the divine life is faith; the chief branches are, love to God, charity to man, purity and humility; for (as an excellent person observed) however these names be common and vulgar, yet do they carry such a mighty sense, that the tongue of man or angel can pronounce nothing more weighty or excellent. Faith hath the same place in the divine life, which sense hath in the natural; being indeed a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion of spiritual things: it extends itself unto all divine truths; but in our lapsed estate, it hath a peculiar relation to the declarations of God’s mercy to sinners thro’ a Mediator; and therefore, receiving its denomination from that principal object, is ordinarily termed _faith in Jesus Christ_.

12. The love of God is such a delightful sense of God’s love to us, as makes the soul resign itself wholly to him, desiring above all things to please him, and delighting in nothing so much as in communion with him, and being ready to do or suffer any thing for his sake. A soul thus possessed with divine love, must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in sincere affection, because of the relation they have to God, being his creatures, and having something of his image stamped upon them. And this is that _charity_ I named as the second branch of religion, and under which all the parts of justice, all the duties we owe to our neighbour, are eminently comprehended. For he who doth truly love all the world, will be nearly concerned in the interest of every one, and so far from wronging any person that he will resent any evil that befals others, as if it happened to himself.

13. By _purity_, I understand such a disposition of mind, as makes a man despise and abstain from all pleasures of sense or fancy, which either are sinful in themselves, or tend to extinguish or lessen our relish of more divine and intellectual pleasures. It doth also infer a resoluteness to undergo all those hardships he may meet with in the performance of his duty; so that not only charity and temperance, but also Christian courage and magnanimity, may come under this head.

14. _Humility_ imports a deep sense of our inward and outward sins, and of our utter helplessness; which is always accompanied with a profound submission to the will of God, and deadness to the applause of men.

These are the highest perfections that men are capable of, the foundation of heaven laid in the soul; and he who hath attained them, needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God’s decrees, to know what is determined about his everlasting condition, but he may find a copy of God’s thoughts concerning him written in his own breast. Those beginnings of happiness which he feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, are a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity. And it is not without reason that one said, _I had rather see the real impressions of a godlike nature upon my own soul, than have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me, that my name was enrolled in the book of life_.

_Religion better understood by actions than by words._

15. When we have said all we can, the secret mysteries of a divine life can never be sufficiently expressed: nor can they be truly understood but by those that have a sense and relish of spiritual things. _There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth this understanding._ The power and life of religion may be better expressed in actions than in words: And therefore we may take the best measure of those gracious endowments, from the deportment of those in whom they reside; especially from the holy life of our blessed Saviour, a main part of whose business in this world was to teach by his practice what he required of others, and to make his own conversation an exact resemblance of those unparalleled rules which he prescribed: so that if ever true goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was when his presence beautified this lower world.

_Divine love exemplified in our Saviour; his diligence in doing God’s will; and his patience in bearing it._

16. That devout affection wherewith his blessed soul constantly burned towards his heavenly Father, expressed itself in an entire resignation to his will. It was his _very meat, to do the will, and finish the work of him that sent him_. This was the exercise of his childhood, and the constant employment of his riper age. He spared no pains while he was about his Father’s business; but took such satisfaction in the performance of it, that, when being faint and weary with his journey, he rested on _Jacob_’s well, and intreated water of the _Samaritan_ woman; the success of his conference with her, and the accession that was made to the kingdom of God, filled his mind with such delight, as seemed to redound to his very body, refreshing his spirits, and making him forget his thirst, and refuse the meat which he had sent his disciples to buy. Nor was he less patient and submissive in suffering the will of God, than diligent in doing of it. He endured the sharpest afflictions, and extremest miseries that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without a repining thought, or discontented word. For though he was far from a stupid insensibility, and had as quick a sense of pain as other men, and the deepest apprehension of what he was to suffer in his soul, (as his _bloody sweat_, and the _sore amazement and sorrow_ which he professed, do abundantly declare) yet did he intirely submit to that severe dispensation of providence, and willingly acquiesced in it.

_His constant devotion._

17. Another instance of his love to God, was his delight in conversing with him by prayer; which made him frequently retire from the world, and spend whole nights in that heavenly exercise; though he had no sins to confess, and but few secular interests to pray for: which, alas! are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to our devotions. Nay, we may say his whole life was prayer, a constant course of communion with God. If the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the fire still kept alive. Nor was he ever surprized with that dulness of spirit which we must many times wrestle with, before we can be fit for the exercise of devotion.

_His charity to men._

18. In the second place I shall speak of love towards all men; but he who would express it must transcribe the history of the gospel: for scarce any thing is recorded to have been done or spoken by him, which was not designed for the good of some one or other. All his miraculous works were instances of his goodness, as well as his power, and they benefited those on whom they were wrought, as well as amazed the beholders. His charity was not confined to his kindred, or relations; nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endearments of that peculiar friendship which he carried toward the beloved disciple. But every one was his _friend_ who obeyed his _holy commands_, John xv. 4. and _Whosoever did the will of his Father_, the same was to him as _his brother, and sister, and mother_.

19. Never was any unwelcome to him, who came with an honest intention; nor did he deny any request, which tended to the good of those that asked it: So that what was spoken of the _Roman_ Emperor, whom, for his goodness, they called the _darling of mankind_, was really performed by him, that never any departed from him with a heavy countenance, except that rich youth, _Mark_ x. who was sorry to hear that the kingdom of heaven stood at so high a rate, and that he could not save his soul and his money too. The ingenuity that appeared in his first address, had already procured some kindness for him; for it is said, _And Jesus beholding him, loved him_. But must he for his sake cut out a new way to heaven, and alter the nature of things; which makes it impossible that a covetous man should be happy?

_His meekness._

20. And what shall I speak of his meekness, who could encounter the monstrous ingratitude of that miscreant who betrayed him, in no harsher terms than these, _Judas betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss_? What further evidence could we desire of his fervent and unbounded charity, than that he willingly laid down his life for his most bitter enemies, and mingling his prayers with his blood, besought the Father that his death might not be laid to their charge, but might become the means of eternal life, to those very persons who procured it.

_His purity._

21. The third branch of the divine life is _purity_, a neglect of worldly enjoyments and accommodations, and a resolute enduring of all such troubles as we meet with in the doing of our duty. Now surely if ever any person was wholly dead to all the pleasures of the natural life, it was the blessed Jesus; who seldom tasted them when they came in his way, but never stept out of his road to seek them. Though he allowed others the comforts of wedlock, and honoured marriage with his presence, yet he chose the severity of a virgin life: and though he supplied the want of wine with a miracle, yet he would not work one for the relief of his own hunger in the wilderness. So gracious was he in allowing others such gratifications, as himself thought good to abstain from, and supplying not only their pressing necessities, but also their less considerable wants. We many times hear of our Saviour’s sighs, and groans, and tears, but never that he laughed, so that through his whole life he answered that character given of him by the prophet, _A man of sorrows, and acquainted with griefs_. Nor were the troubles of his life other than matters of choice: for never did there any appear on the stage of the world with greater advantages to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. He who could bring together such a prodigious number of fishes into his disciples net, and at another time receive that tribute from a fish which he was to pay to the temple, might easily have made himself the richest person in the world; nay, without any money, he could have maintained an army powerful enough to have jostled _Cæsar_ out of his throne, having oftner than once fed several thousands with a few loaves and small fishes: but to shew how small esteem he had of all the enjoyments in the world, he chose to live in so poor and mean a condition, that _though the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had nests, yet he, who was Lord of all things, had not where to lay his head_. He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor affect the acquaintance of great ones; but being reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fishermen, and other such poor people, for his companions, and lived at such a rate as suited with the meanness of that condition.

_His humility._

22. And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his _humility_, the last branch of the divine life, wherein he was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might _learn of him to be meek and lowly in heart_. I shall not now speak of that infinite condescension of the eternal Son of God, in taking our nature upon him; but only reflect on his lowly deportment while he was in the world. He had none of those sins and imperfections, which may justly humble the best of men; yet he was so entirely swallowed up with a deep sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared as nothing in his own eyes, I mean so far as he was a creature. He considered those eminent perfections which shined in his blessed soul as not his own, but the gifts of God; and therefore assumed nothing to himself for them, but with the profoundest humility renounced all pretences to them. Hence did he refuse that ordinary compellation of _good Master_, from one, who, it seems, was ignorant of his divinity: _Why callest thou me good? There is none good but God only._ As if he had said, “The goodness of any creature (and such only thou takest me to be) is not worthy to be named or taken notice of; it is God alone who is originally and essentially good.” He never made use of his miraculous power for vanity or ostentation: he would not gratify the curiosity of the _Jews_ with a sign from heaven, some prodigious appearance in the air; nor would he follow the advice of his countrymen and kindred, who would have had all his great works performed in the eyes of the world, for gaining him the greater fame. When his charity had prompted him to the relief of the miserable, his humility made him many times enjoin the concealment of the miracle; and when the glory of God, and the design for which he came into the world, required the publication of them, he ascribed the honour of all to his Father, telling them, _That of himself he was able to do nothing_.

23. I cannot insist on all the instances of humility in his deportment towards men; his withdrawing himself when they would have made him a king; his subjection, not only to his blessed Mother, but to her husband, during his younger years, and his submission to all the indignities and affronts which his rude and malicious enemies put upon him: the history of his holy life, recorded by those who conversed with him, is full of such passages as these; and indeed the serious and attentive study of it, is the best way to get right measures of humility, and all the other parts of religion, which I have been endeavouring to describe.

Let me here subjoin a prayer that may be proper when one, who had formerly entertained some false notions of religion, begins to discover what it is.

A PRAYER.

_Infinite and eternal Majesty, author and fountain of being and blessedness, how little do we poor sinful creatures know of thee, or the way to serve and please thee? We talk of religion, and pretend unto it; but alas! How few are there that know what it means? How easily do we mistake the affections of our nature, for those divine graces which alone are acceptable in thy sight? It may justly grieve me to consider, that I should have wandered so long, and contented myself so often with vain shadows of religion; yet I cannot but acknowledge and adore thy goodness, who hast been pleased, in some measure, to open mine eyes, and let me see what it is at which I ought to aim. I rejoice to consider what mighty improvements my nature is capable of and what a divine temper doth shine in those whom thou causest to approach thee. Blessed be thine infinite mercy, who sentest thine own Son to dwell among men, and instruct them by his example, as well as his laws, giving them a perfect pattern of what they ought to be. O that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may be always in my thoughts, till I receive a deep sense and impression of those graces that shined so eminently in him; and let me never rest, till that new and divine nature prevail in my soul, and Christ be formed within me._

_The excellency and advantage of Religion._

1. AND now, having discovered the nature of true religion, let us fix our meditations a little on the excellency and advantages of it. But what words can express that inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures, which can never be rightly understood, but by those who feel them? _A stranger intermeddleth not with their joy¹._ Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and healthful constitution of the soul: its faculties had formerly been enfeebled and disordered, so that they could not exercise their natural functions; it had wearied itself with endless tossings and rollings, and was never able to find any rest. Now that distemper being removed, it feels itself well; there is a due harmony in its faculties, and a sprightly vigour possesseth every part: the understanding can discern what is good, and the will can cleave unto it; the affections are not tied to the motions of sense, and the influence of external objects; but are stirred by more divine impressions, are touched with a sense of invisible things.

¹ Proverbs xiv. 10.

_The excellency of divine love._

2. Let us descend into a nearer view of religion, in the several branches of it named before. Let us consider that love wherewith holy souls are united to God, that we may see what excellency is involved in it. Love is that powerful passion, by which all the faculties of the soul are determined, and on which both its perfection and happiness depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love. He who loveth mean and sordid things, doth thereby become base and vile; but a noble and well placed affection advances the spirit to a conformity with the perfections which it loves. The images of these frequently present to the mind, and, by a secret energy, insinuate into the very constitution of the soul, and mould and fashion it unto their own likeness. Hence we see how easily lovers or friends slide into the imitation of the persons whom they affect; and how, even before they are aware, they begin to resemble them, not only in the more considerable instances of their deportment, but also in their voice and gesture, and that which we call their mein and air: and certainly we should as well transcribe the inward beauties of the soul, if they were the object and motive of our love. But as all the creatures we converse with have their mixture and alloy, we are always in hazard to be corrupted by placing our affection on them: passion easily blinds our eyes, so that we first approve, and then imitate the things that are blameable in them. The true way to improve and ennoble our souls, is by fixing our love on the divine perfections, that we may have them always before us, and derive an impression of them on ourselves; and _beholding, with open face, the glory of the Lord, may be changed into the same image, from glory to glory_. He who hath raised his eyes towards that uncreated beauty and goodness, and fixed his affection there, is quite of another spirit, of a more excellent and heroic temper than the rest of the world; and cannot but infinitely disdain all mean and unworthy things, will not entertain any low or base thoughts, which might disparage his high and noble pretensions. Love is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters of; and therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it unworthily. It is indeed the only thing we can call our own; other things may be taken from us by violence, but none can ravish our love. Is any thing else be counted ours, by giving our love, we give all, so far as we make over our hearts and wills, by which we possess our other enjoyments. It is not possible to refuse him any thing, to whom, by love, we have given ourselves; nay, since it is the privilege of gifts, to receive their value from the mind of the giver, and not to be measured by the event, but by the desire, he who loveth, may, in some sense, be said not only to bestow all that he hath, but all things else which may make the beloved person happy; since he doth heartily wish them, and would really give them, if they were in his power. Certainly therefore love is the worthiest present we can offer unto God, and it is extremely debased when we bestow it another way.

3. When this affection is misplaced, it doth often vent itself in such expressions, as point at its proper object. The blasphemous terms of adoration, wherein men sometimes express their passion, are the language of that affection which was designed for God; as he who is accustomed to speak to some great person, doth perhaps unawares accost another with those titles he was wont to give him: But certainly that passion which accounteth its object a Deity, ought to be bestowed on him who really is so; those unlimited submissions, which debase the soul, is directed to any other, will exalt and ennoble it, when placed here. Those chains and cords of love, are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery is more noble than all the empires in the world.

_The advantages of divine love._

4. Again, as divine love advances and elevates the soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy. The highest pleasures, the most substantial delights, that human nature is capable of, are those which arise from a well-placed and successful affection. That which imbitters love, and makes it ordinarily a very troublesome passion, is the placing it on those who have not worth enough to deserve it, or gratitude to requite it, or whose absence may deprive us of their converse, or their miseries occasion our trouble. To all these evils are they exposed, whose chief affection is placed on creatures; but the love of God delivers us from them all.

_The worth of the object._

5. First, Love must needs be full of disquietude, when there is not excellency in the object to answer the vastness of its capacity: So violent a passion cannot but torment the spirit when it finds not wherewith to satisfy its cravings; and indeed so large and unbounded is its nature: that it must be extremely straitened, when confined to any creature: nothing below an infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, and exert its vigour and activity. What is a little skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of goodness, to satisfy a passion which was made for God? No wonder lovers do so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that others should approve their passion by imitating it: They know the scantiness of the good which they love, that it cannot suffice two, being in effect too little for one. Hence love, _which is strong as death_, occasioneth _jealousy, which is cruel as the grave; the coals whereof are coals of fire, which hath a most violent flame_.

6. But divine love hath no mixture of this gall. When once the soul is fixed on that supreme good, it finds so much goodness, as doth not only satisfy its affection, but overpower it too: It finds all its love to be too languid for such an object, and is only sorry that it can command no more: It wishes for the flames of a _Seraph_, and longs for the time when it shall be wholly dissolved in love. And because it can do so little itself, it desires the assistance of the whole creation, that angels and men would concur with it in the admiration and love of these infinite perfections.

_The certainty to be beloved again._

7. Again, love is accompanied with trouble, when it misses a suitable return of affection. Love is the most valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we in effect give all that we have: and therefore it must needs be afflicting, to find so great a gift despised; that the present which one hath made of his whole heart cannot obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of wandering out of ourselves; it is a sort of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to himself, and all his own interests; not thinking of them, nor caring for them; and minding nothing but how he may please the party whom he loves. Thus he is quite undone, unless he meets with reciprocal affection; he neglects himself, and the other hath no regard to him: But if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were, and liveth in the soul and care of the person whom he loves. And now he begins to mind his own concernments, not so much because they are his, as because the beloved is pleased to own an interest in them; he becomes dear unto himself, because he is so unto the other.

8. And herein the divine lover hath unspeakably the advantage, having placed his affection on him whose nature is love, whose goodness is as infinite as his being; whose mercy prevented us, when we were his enemies, therefore cannot chuse but embrace us, when we are become his friends. It is impossible that God should deny his love to a soul devoted to him, and which desires nothing so much as to please him. He cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart on which it is engraven. Love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is the sacrifice which he will not despise.

_The presence of the beloved person._

9. Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, is absence from those we love. It is not without a sensible affliction that friends part, tho’ for some little time: But if death have made the separation, as some time or other it must, this occasions a grief scarce to be parallel’d by all the misfortunes of human life. But, O how happy are those who have placed their love on him, who can never be absent from them! They need but open their eyes, and they shall every where behold the traces of his presence and glory, and converse with him whom their soul loveth; and this makes the darkest prison, or wildest desart, not only supportable, but delightful to them.

_The divine love makes us partake of an infinite happiness._

10. In fine, a lover is miserable, if the person whom he loveth be so. They who have made an exchange of hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another’s happiness and misery; and this makes love a troublesome passion, when placed on earth. The most fortunate person hath grief enough to mar the tranquillity of his friend: and it is hard to hold out, when we are attacked on all hands, and suffer not only in our own person, but in another’s: But if God be the object of our love, we share in an infinite happiness. We rejoice to behold the glory of God, and receive comfort and pleasure from all the praises wherewith men and angels extol him. It delights us beyond expression to consider, that the Beloved of our souls is infinitely happy in himself, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne: _That our God is in the heavens, and doth whatever pleaseth him_.

Behold, on what sure foundations his happiness is built, whose soul is possessed with divine love, whose will is transformed into the will of God, and whose sole desire is, that his Maker should be pleased! O the peace, the rest, the satisfaction, that attendeth such a temper of mind!

_He that loveth God finds sweetness in every dispensation._

11. What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thus as it were to lose ourselves in him; and, being swallowed up in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves a living sacrifice, always ascending unto him in flames of love? Never doth a soul know what solid joy is, till it give itself up unto the author of its being, and feel itself become a devoted thing; and can say, from an inward sense and feeling, _My Beloved is mine, and I am his_: I am content to be any thing for him, and care not for myself, but that I may serve him. A person moulded into this temper, finds pleasure in all the dispensations of providence: temporal enjoyments have another relish, when he tastes the divine goodness in them, and considers them as tokens of love sent by his dearest Lord and Maker: and chastisements hereby lose their sting; the rod, as well as the staff, comfort him: he rejoices, that though God does not the will of such a worthless creature as himself, yet he accomplishes his own designs; which are infinitely more holy and wise.

_The duties of religion are delightful to him._

12. The exercises of religion, which to others are insipid, yield the highest pleasure to souls possessed with divine love: they rejoice when they are called to _go up to the house of the Lord_, that they may _see his power and his glory, as they have formerly seen it in his sanctuary_¹. They never think themselves so happy, as when, having retired from the world, they have placed themselves in the presence of God, and entertain communion with him: they delight to adore his perfections, and recount his favours; and to protest their affection to him, and tell him a thousand times that they love him; to lay out their troubles or wants before him, and disburthen their hearts in his bosom. Repentance itself is a delightful exercise, when it floweth from the principle of love. There is a secret sweetness which accompanies those tears of remorse, those meltings of a soul returning unto God, and lamenting its former unkindness.

¹ Psalms lxiii. 2.

13. The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch which we are obliged to keep over our hearts and ways, are troublesome to those who are only ruled by an external law, and have no law in their minds inclining them to their duty. But where divine love possesseth the soul, it stands as centinel to keep out every thing that may offend the Beloved. It complieth chearfully, not only with explicit commands, but with the most secret notices of the Beloved’s pleasure; and is ingenious in discovering what will be most grateful and acceptable unto him. It makes mortification and self-denial change their harsh and dreadful names, and become easy, sweet and delightful things.

_The excellency of charity._

14. The next branch of the divine life is _universal love_ to man. The excellency of this grace will be easily acknowledged; for what can be more noble than a heart enlarged to embrace the whole world? Whose wishes and designs are levelled at the welfare of the universe, which considereth every man’s interest as its own? He, who loveth his neighbour as himself, can never entertain any base or injurious thought, or be wanting in any expressions of bounty. He had rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of one; and never accounts himself happy, but when some one or other hath been benefited by him. The malice or ingratitude of men is not able to resist his love. He overlooks their injuries, and pities their folly, and overcomes their evil with good; and never designs any other revenge against his most bitter and malicious enemies, than to put all the obligations he can upon them, whether they will or not. This inward goodness and benignity of spirit reflects a sweetness and serenity upon the very countenance, and makes it amiable and lovely: it inspires the soul with a noble resolution and courage, and makes it capable of enterprising and effecting the highest things: those heroic actions which we are wont to read with admiration, have, for the most part, been the effects of the love of one’s country, or of particular friendships; and certainly a more extensive affection must be much more powerful and efficacious.

_The pleasure that attends it._

15. Again, as _charity_ flows from an excellent temper, so it is accompanied with the greatest satisfaction. It delights the soul to feel itself thus enlarged; to be delivered from those disquieting passions, malice, hatred, and envy; and to become gentle, sweet, and benign. Had I my choice of all things for my present felicity, I would pitch upon this, to have my heart possessed with the greatest kindness and affection towards all men. I am sure this would make me partake in all the happiness of others, their inward endowments, and outward prosperity. And though I should frequently meet with occasions of grief, yet there is a sweetness in commiseration, which makes it infinitely more desirable than a stupid insensibility. And the consideration of that infinite goodness and wisdom, which govern the world, might repress any excessive trouble for particular calamities that happen in it. Certainly, next to the love of God, that ardent affection wherewith blessed souls embrace one another, is justly to be reckoned as the greatest felicity of those regions above. And did it universally prevail in the world, it would anticipate that blessedness, and make us taste the joys of heaven upon earth.

_The excellency of purity._

16. A third branch of religion is _purity_; a contempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness to undergo those troubles and pains we may meet with in the performance of our duty. Now, the naming of this may suffice to recommend it as a most excellent quality. There is no slavery so base, as that whereby a man becomes a drudge to his own lusts. Never can that person be capable of any thing noble, who is sunk in the gross pleasures of sense, or bewitched with the airy gratifications of fancy. But the religious soul is of a more sublime and divine temper. It knows it was made for higher things, and scorns to step aside one foot out of the ways of holiness, for obtaining any of these.

_The delight it affords._

17. And this _purity_ is accompanied with a great deal of pleasure. Whatsoever defiles the soul disturbs it too. All impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart and trouble behind them. Excess and intemperance, and all inordinate lusts, are so much enemies to the health of the body, and the interests of this present life, that a little consideration might oblige any rational man to forbear them on that very score. And if the religious person go higher, and do not only abstain from noxious pleasures, but neglect those that are innocent, this is not to be looked upon as any uneasy restraint, but as the effect of better choice: his mind is so taken up with sublime delights, that he cannot be concerned in these. Any person that is engaged in a violent affection, will easily forget his ordinary gratification; will be little curious about his diet, or his bodily ease, or the divertisements he was wont to delight in. No wonder then, if souls, overpowered with divine love, despise inferior pleasures, and be almost ready to grudge the body its necessary attendance for the common accommodations of life, judging all these impertinent to their main happiness, and those higher enjoyments they are pursuing. As for the hardships they may meet with, they rejoice in them, as opportunities to testify their affection: and since they are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the honour to suffer for him.

_The excellency of humility._

18. The last branch of religion is _humility_; and however, to vulgar eyes, this may appear a despicable quality, yet, really, the soul of man is not capable of a higher and more noble endowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride; but humility arises from a nearer acquaintance with excellent things, which keeps men from doating on trifles, or admiring themselves because of some petty attainments.

I know not what thoughts people may have of _humility_, but I see almost every person pretending to it, and shunning such expressions and actions as may make them be accounted arrogant and presumptuous; so that those who are most desirous of praise, are loth to commend themselves. What are all those compliments and modes of civility so ♦frequent in our ordinary converse, but so many protestations of the esteem of others, and the low thoughts we have of ourselves? And must not humility be an excellent endowment, when the very shadows of it are so necessary a part of good breeding?

♦ “frequently” replaced with “frequent” per Errata

_The pleasure and sweetness of an humble temper._

19. Again, this grace is accompanied with a great deal of happiness. The proud person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but most of all to himself. Every thing is enough to vex him; but scarce any thing sufficient to please him. But the humble person hath the advantage when he is despised, that none can think more meanly of him than he doth of himself; and as he is less affected with injuries, so he is less obnoxious to them. _Contention, which cometh of pride_, betrays a man into a thousand ♦inconveniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper seldom meet with. True humility begets veneration among wise men, whilst pride defeateth its own design, and depriveth a man of that honour it makes him pretend to.

♦ “inconvenices” replaced with “inconveniences”

20. And the exercises of humility which relate to God, are accompanied with the greatest satisfaction. It is impossible to express the delight which religious persons feel in the lowest prostrations of their soul before God; when having a deep sense of the divine Majesty, they sink (if I may so speak) to the bottom of their beings, and vanish and disappear in the presence of God, by a serious and affectionate acknowledgement of their own nothingness; when they understand the full sense of the psalmist’s exclamation, _Lord, what is man?_ And can utter it with the same affection. Never did any haughty person receive the praises of men with so much pleasure as the humble renounce them, _Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory_.

21. Thus I have spoken something of the excellencies and advantages of religion in its several branches. Let us acquaint ourselves with it, and experience will teach us more than all that ever hath been spoken or written concerning it. If we may suppose the soul to be already awakened unto some longing desires after so great a blessedness, it will be good to give them vent, and suffer them to issue forth in some such aspirations as these.

A PRAYER.

_GOOD God! what a mighty felicity is this to which we are called? How graciously hast thou joined our duty and happiness together, and prescribed that for our work, the performance whereof is a great reward? And shall such silly worms be advanced to so great a height? Wilt thou allow us to raise our eyes to thee? Wilt thou admit and accept our affection? Shall we receive the impression, of thy divine excellencies, by beholding and admiring them, and partake of thy infinite blessedness and glory, by loving thee, and rejoicing in them? O the happiness of those souls that are disintangled from every narrow good; whose understandings are enlightened by the holy Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the extent of thine; who love thee above all things, and all mankind for thy sake! I am persuaded, O God, I am persuaded, that I can never be happy, till my corrupt affections be mortified, and the pride and vanity of my spirit subdued, and till I come seriously to despise the world, and think nothing of myself. But O when shall it once be? O when wilt thou come unto me, and satisfy my soul with thy likeness, making me holy as thou art holy, even in all manner of conversation? Hast thou given me a prospect of so great a felicity, and wilt thou not bring me unto it? Hast thou excited these desires in my soul, and wilt thou not also satisfy them? O teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God; thy Spirit is good, lead me unto the land of uprightness. Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name’s sake, and perfect that which concerneth me. Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever, forsake not the work of thine own hands._

_The despondent thoughts of some newly awakened to a right sense of things._

1. I HAVE hitherto considered wherein true religion consists, and how desirable a thing it is; but when one sees how infinitely distant he is from it, he may perhaps be ready to despond; he may sit down in sadness, and bemoan himself, and say, in the ♦anguish of his spirit, “They are happy indeed whose souls enjoy the divine life, who are thus renewed in the spirit of their minds; but alas! I am quite of another constitution. If outward observances could have done, I might have hoped to acquit myself: but since nothing but a new nature can serve, what am I able to do? I could give all my goods to the poor, but cannot command that love, without which this would profit me nothing. This gift of God cannot be purchased with money¹. If a man should give all the substance of his house for love, it would be utterly contemned². I could pine my body; but I cannot starve my corruptions, nor wean my affections from earthly things. I am many times convinced of my own vileness; but this rather begets discontent in me, than true humility; and though I should come to think meanly of myself, yet I cannot endure that others should think so too. In a word, when I reflect on my most specious attainments, I have reason to suspect that they are all but the effects of nature; and sin is so powerful and so deeply rooted in me, that I can never hope to be delivered from it. I may toss and turn as a door on the hinges, but can never get clear off; so that all the advantage I can draw from the discovery of religion, is but to see, at a huge distance, that felicity which I am not able to reach; like a man in a shipwreck, who discerns the land, and envies the happiness of those there, but cannot himself get ashore.”

♦ “auguish” replaced with “anguish”

¹ Acts viii. 20.

² Canticles viii. 7.

_The unreasonableness of these fears._

2. These, or such-like thoughts, may arise in the minds of those who begin to conceive the nature and excellency of religion. They have spied the land, and seen that it is exceeding good, that it floweth with milk and honey; but they find they have the children of _Anak_ to grapple with, powerful corruptions to overcome, and they fear they shall never prevail against them. But why should we give way to such discouraging suggestions? Why should we entertain such unreasonable fears, which damp our spirits and weaken our hands, and augment the difficulties of our way? Let us encourage ourselves with those mighty aids we are to expect in this spiritual warfare; for greater is he that is for us, than all that can rise up against us. _The eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. Let us be strong in the Lord, and the power of his might_; for he it is that shall _tread down our enemies_. God hath a tender regard to the souls of men, and is infinitely willing to promote their welfare. He hath condescended to our weakness, and declared with an oath, that he hath no pleasure in our destruction. There is no such thing as despite in the bosom of that ever blessed being, whose name and nature is love. He created us at first in a happy condition, and now when we are fallen from it, _he hath laid help upon one that is mighty to save_¹, hath committed the care of our souls to no meaner a person than the eternal Son of his love. It is he that is the captain of our salvation, and what enemies can be too strong for us, when we are fighting under his banner? Did not the Son of God come down from the bosom of his Father, and pitch his tabernacle amongst men, that he might recover them to the divine life, and restore the image of God in their souls? All the mighty works he performed, all the afflictions he sustained, had this for their scope and design: for this did he labour and toil; for this did he bleed and die. _He was with child, he was in pain, and hath he brought forth nothing but wind²? Hath he wrought no deliverance in the earth? Shall he not see of the travail of his soul³?_ Certainly it is impossible that this great contrivance of heaven should prove abortive, that such a mighty undertaking should miscarry. It hath already been effectual for the salvation of many thousands, who were once as far from the kingdom of heaven as we. And our _high priest continueth for ever, and is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him_⁴. He is tender and compassionate; he knoweth our infirmities, and had experience of our temptations. _A bruised reed will he not break, and smoaking flax will he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory⁵._ He hath sent out his Holy Spirit, whose sweet but powerful breathings are still moving up and down in the world, to quicken the souls of men, and awaken them unto the sense and feeling of those divine things for which they were made. He is ready to assist such weak and languishing creatures as we are, in our essays towards holiness. And when once it hath taken hold of a soul, and kindled in it the smallest spark of divine love, will he not preserve and cherish, and bring it forth into a flame, which many waters shall not quench⁶. Whenever this day begins to dawn, and _the day-star to rise in their heart_⁷, it will dispel the powers of darkness, and make ignorance and folly, and all corrupt affections, flee away as fast before it as the shades of night, when the sun cometh out of his chambers. _For the path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day⁸. They shall go on from strength to strength, till every one of them appear before God in Sion⁹._

¹ Psalms lxxxix. 19.

² Isaiah xxvi. 18.

³ Isaiah liii. 11.

⁴ Hebrews vii. 24, 25.

⁵ Matthew xii. 29.

⁶ Canticles viii. 7.

⁷ 2 Peter i. 19.

⁸ Proverbs iv. 18.

⁹ Psalms lxxxiv. 7.

3. Why should we think it impossible that true goodness and universal love should come to sway and prevail in our souls? Is not this their primitive condition, as they came out of the hands of their maker? Sin and corruption are but usurpers; and though they have long kept the possession, yet _from the beginning it was not so_. That inordinate self-love which one would think were interwoven with our nature, is nevertheless of foreign extraction, and had no place at all in the state of integrity. We have still so much reason left as to condemn it. Our understandings are easily convinced that we ought to be wholly devoted to him from whom we have our being, and to love him infinitely more than ourselves, who is infinitely better than we. And our wills would readily comply with this, if they were not disordered and out of tune. And is not he who made our souls able to mend them again? Shall we not be able, by his assistance, to vanquish and expel those violent intruders, _and turn unto flight the armies of the aliens_¹.

¹ Hebrews xi. 34.

4. No sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, but we shall have all the saints on earth, and all the angels in heaven engaged on our side. The holy church throughout the world is daily interceding with God for the success of all such endeavours. And doubtless those heavenly hosts above, are nearly concerned in the interests of religion, and infinitely desirous to see the divine life prevailing in this inferior world, and that the will of God may be done by us on earth, as it is done by them in heaven. May we not then encourage ourselves, as the prophet did his servant, when he shewed him the horses and chariots of fire, _Fear not, for they that be with us, are more than they that are against us_¹?

¹ 2 Kings vi. 16, 17.

_We must do what we can, and depend on the divine assistance._

5. Away then with all desponding thoughts. To undertake vigorously, and rely confidently on the divine assistance, is more than half the conquest: _Let us arise and be doing, and the Lord will be with us_¹. It is true, religion in the souls of men is the immediate work of God, and all our natural endeavours can neither produce it alone, nor merit those supernatural aids by which it must be wrought. The Holy Ghost must come upon us, and the power of the Highest overshadow us, before that holy thing can be begotten, and Christ formed in us. But yet we must not expect that this work should be done without any endeavours of our own; we must not lie loitering in the ditch, and wait till omnipotence pull us thence; no, no, we must bestir ourselves, and actuate these powers which we have already received. We must put forth ourselves to our utmost capacities, and then _our labour shall not be vain in the Lord_². All the art and industry of man cannot form the smallest herb, or make a stalk of corn to grow in the field. It is the energy of nature, and the influences of heaven, which produce this effect. It is God _who causeth the grass to grow, and herb for the service of man_³; and yet nobody will say that the labours of the husbandman are useless or unnecessary. So likewise the human soul is immediately created by God; it is he who both formeth and enliveneth the child, and yet he hath appointed the marriage-bed as the ordinary means for the propagation of mankind: and so, though there must intervene a stroke of omnipotence to effect this mighty change in our souls; yet ought we to do what we can, that we may be more ready to receive the seeds of grace and the dew of heaven. It is true, God hath been found of some who sought him not; he hath cast himself in their way who were quite out of his; he hath laid hold upon them, and stopt their course on a sudden; for so was St. _Paul_ converted in his journey to _Damascus_. But certainly this is not God’s ordinary method of dealing with men: though he hath not tied himself to means, yet he hath tied us to the use of them; and we have never more reason to expect the divine assistance, than when we are doing our utmost endeavours. It shall therefore be my next work to shew what course we may take for attaining that blessed temper I have described.

¹ 1 Chronicles xxii. 16.

² 1 Corinthians xv. 58.

³ Psalms civ. 14.

_We must shun all manner of sin._

6. Now if we desire to have our souls moulded to this holy frame, and have Christ formed in our hearts, we must carefully avoid all sinful practices. There can be no treaty of peace, till we lay down these weapons of rebellion wherewith we fight against heaven; nor can we expect to have our distempers cured, if we be daily feeding on poison. Every wilful sin gives a mortal wound to the soul, and puts it at a greater distance from God. And we can never hope to have our hearts purified from corrupt affections, till our hands are cleansed from vicious actions.

_We must know what things are sinful._

7. And, first, Let us inform ourselves well what those sins are from which we ought to abstain. And here we must not take our measures from the maxims of the world, or the practices of those whom in charity, we account good men. Most people have very light apprehensions of these things, and are not sensible of any fault, unless it be gross. And those who are more serious, many times allow themselves too great latitude. Alas! how much pride, and vanity, and passion; how much weakness and folly doth every day show itself in their converse and behaviour! It may be they are humbled for it, and striving against it, but the progress is so small, and their failings so many, that we had need to chuse an exacter pattern. Every one of us must answer for himself, and the practice of others will never warrant and secure us. It is the highest folly to regulate our actions by any other standard, than that by which they must be judged. If ever therefore we would _cleanse our way_, it must be _by taking heed thereto according to the word of God_¹. And that _word which is quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow_², will certainly discover many things to be sinful, which pass for very innocent in the eyes of the world. Let us therefore imitate the psalmist, who saith, _Concerning the works of men, by the words of thy lips, I have kept myself from the path of the destroyer_³. Let us acquaint ourselves well with the holy laws of our religion: let us consider the discourses of our blessed Saviour, (especially that divine sermon on the mount) and the writings of his holy apostles; where an unbiassed mind may clearly discern those bounds by which our actions ought to be confined: and then let us never look upon any sin as light and inconsiderable, but be fully persuaded, that the smallest is infinitely heinous in the sight of God, and prejudicial to the souls of men: and that if we had the right sense of things, we should be as deeply affected with the least irregularities, as now we are with the greatest crimes.

¹ Psalms cxix. 9.

² Hebrews iv. 12.

³ Psalms xvii. 4.

_We must resist temptations._

8. Among those things which we discover to be sinful, there will be some to which, through our nature, or long custom, we are so wedded, that it will be like cutting of the right-hand, or pulling out the right-eye, to abandon them. But must we therefore sit down and wait till all difficulties be over, and every temptation be gone? This were to imitate the fool in the poet, who stood the whole day at the river-side, till all the water should run by. We must not indulge our inclinations, as we do little children, till they grow weary of the thing they are unwilling to let go. We must not continue our sinful practices, in hopes that the divine grace will one day over-power us.

9. If the heinous nature of sin cannot affect us, at least we may be frighted by its dreadful consequences. That selfish principle which pusheth us forward to sinful pleasures, may make us loath to buy them at the rate of everlasting misery. Let us therefore accustom ourselves to consider seriously what a fearful thing it must be to offend that infinite Being, on whom we depend every moment; who needs but withdraw his mercies to make us miserable, or his assistance to make us nothing. Let us remember the shortness and uncertainty of our lives, and that after we have taken a few turns more in the world, and conversed a little longer amongst men, we must all go down to the dark and silent grave, and carry nothing along with us but anguish and regret for all our sinful enjoyments. What horror must then seize the guilty soul, to find itself naked and all alone before the impartial judge of the world, to render an exact account, not only of its more considerable transactions, but of every word that the tongue hath uttered, and the most secret thought that ever passed through the mind? Let us represent to ourselves the terrors of that dreadful day, when _the foundations of the earth shall be shaken, the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat_¹. The present frame of nature shall be dissolved, and our eyes shall behold the blessed Jesus, (who came once into the world in all humility to visit us, to purchase pardon for us, and beseech us to accept of it) now appearing in the majesty of his glory, and descending from heaven _in flaming fire, to take vengeance on those_ that have despised his mercy. Then all the hidden things of darkness shall be brought to light, and the counsels of the heart made manifest². Then those secret impurities and subtle frauds whereof the world did never suspect us, shall be exposed and laid open to public view; and many thousand actions which we never dreamed to be sinful, shall be charged home upon our consciences, with such evident convictions of guilt, that we shall neither be able to deny, or excuse them. Then shall all the angels in heaven, and all the saints that ever lived on the earth, approve that dreadful sentence which shall be passed on wicked men; and those who loved and esteemed them when in the world, shall look upon them with indignation and abhorrence.

¹ 2 Peter iii. 10.

² 1 Corinthians iv. 5.

10. ’Tis true, this is a melancholy subject; there is horror in the consideration of it: but sure it must be infinitely more dreadful to endure it; and such thoughts as these may be useful to fright us from the courses that would lead us thither. How fond soever we may be of sinful pleasures, we shall startle when pressed with that question, _Who can dwell with everlasting burnings_¹.

¹ Isaiah xxxiii. 14.

_We must keep a constant watch over ourselves._

11. But it will not suffice to consider those things once and again, nor to form some resolutions of abandoning our sins, unless we maintain a constant guard, and be constantly watching against them. Sometimes the mind is awakened, and we resolve to reform: but alas! it presently falleth asleep, and we lose that prospect which we had, and then temptations take the advantage; they solicit us continually, and frequently engage our consent before we are aware. It is the folly and ruin of most people to live at adventure, seldom considering what they are about to say or do. If we would have our resolutions take effect, we must take heed unto our ways, set a watch before the door of our lips, and examine the motions that arise in our heart, whence they come, and whither they go; whether it be pride or passion, or any corrupt humour, that prompteth us to any design, and whether God will be pleased with it? And if we have no time for long reasonings, let us at least turn our eyes towards God, and place ourselves in his presence, to ask his leave and approbation for what we do. Let us consider ourselves under the all-seeing eye of that divine majesty, as in the midst of an infinite globe of light; which compasseth us about both behind and before, and pierceth to the inmost corners of our soul. The sense of the divine presence is a ready means, both to discover what is unlawful, and to restrain us from it. There are some things a person could make a shift to defend, and yet he dares not look God in the face, and adventure upon them. If we look unto him we shall be lightned; if we _set him always before us_, he will _guide us by his eye, and instruct us in the way wherein we ought to walk_.

_We must often examine our actions._

12. This care and watchfulness over our actions, must be seconded by frequent and serious reflections upon them; not only that we may obtain the divine mercy; but that we may strengthen our resolutions, and learn to decline or resist temptations. It is an advice worthy of a Christian, though it first dropped from a Heathen pen, that before we betake ourselves to rest, we renew and examine all the passages of the day, that we may redress what we find to have been amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one day be as marks to direct our course in another. But, withal, we must not forget to implore the divine assistance, especially against those sins that most easily beset us: and though our hearts are not yet moulded into that spiritual frame, yet methinks such considerations as have been proposed may stir us up to some seriousness, and make our prayers against it as earnest, at least, as they are wont to be against other calamities; and I doubt not but God, who heareth the cry of the ravens, will have some regard even to such petitions as proceed from those natural passions which himself hath implanted in us.

_It is fit to restrain ourselves in many lawful things._

13. Thus we are to make the first essay for recovering the divine life, by restraining the natural inclinations, that they break not out into sinful practices. But Christian prudence will teach us to abstain from gratifications that are not simply unlawful; and that not only that we may secure our innocence, which would be in continual hazard, if we should strain our liberty to the utmost point; but also that we may teach our appetites to obey, as prudent parents deal with their children, who cross their wills in many little things, to make them manageable in more considerable instances. He who would mortify the pride and vanity of his spirit, should stop his ears to the most deserved praises, and sometimes forbear his just vindication, from the censures and aspersions of others. He who would check a revengeful humour, would do well to deny himself the satisfaction of representing to others the injuries he hath sustained. And if we would so take heed to our ways, that we sin not with our tongue, we must accustom ourselves to solitude and silence. Thus we may make our appetites more moderate in their cravings, by accustoming them to frequent refusals; but it is not enough to have them under violence and restraint.

_We must strive to put ourselves out of love with the world._

14. Our next essay must be to possess our minds with a deep persuasion of the vanity and emptiness of worldly enjoyments. This is an ordinary theme, but alas! how few understand and believe what they say? These notions float in our brains, and come sliding off our tongues, but we have no deep impression of them on our spirits. We feel not the truth which we pretend to believe. We can tell that all the glory and splendor, all the pleasures of the world, are vanity and nothing; and yet these nothings take up all our thoughts, and engross all our affections. Perhaps sometimes we resolve to be no longer deluded with them; but these thoughts seldom outlive the next temptation. And after we have been frustrated a thousand times, we must continually be repeating the experiment. The least difference of circumstances is enough to make us expect that satisfaction in one thing, which we missed in another. But had we once a real contempt of worldly things, this were a considerable advancement in our way. The soul of man is of a vigorous and active nature, and hath in it an unextinguishable thirst, an immaterial kind of fire, always catching at some object or other, in conjunction wherewith it thinks to be happy: and were it once rent from the world, it would search after some higher object, to satisfy its importunate cravings. The love of the world and the love of God, are like the scales of a balance, as the one falleth the other doth rise. It therefore nearly concerns us to be convinced of the emptiness and vanity of creature enjoyments. Let us seriously consider what our reason and faith, our own experience, and the observation of others suggest. Amidst all our pursuits and designs, let us stop and ask ourselves, for what end is this? At what do I aim? Can the gross pleasures of sense, or a heap of white or yellow earth, or the esteem of silly creatures like myself, satisfy an immortal soul? Have I not tried these things already? Will they have a higher relish, and yield me more contentment to-morrow than yesterday, or the next year than they did the last? There may be some little difference between that which I am now pursuing, and that which I enjoyed before: but sure my former enjoyments did shew as pleasant, and promise as fair before I attained them. Like the rainbow, they ♦looked very glorious at a distance, but when I approached, I found nothing but emptiness and vapour. O what a poor thing would the life of man be, if it were capable of no higher enjoyments!

♦ “look” replaced with “looked” per Errata

_We must do those outward actions that are commanded._

15. When our inclinations towards worldly things are in some measure subdued, we must proceed conscientiously to perform those duties which religion ♦requires. If we cannot get our inward dispositions presently changed, let us study at least to regulate our outward deportment: if our hearts be not yet inflamed with divine love, let us however ♠own our allegiance to that infinite Majesty, by attending his service, and listening to his word; by speaking reverently of his name; and praising his goodness, and exhorting others to serve and obey him. If we want that charity, and those bowels of compassion which we ought to have towards our neighbours, yet must we not omit any occasion of doing them good. If our hearts be haughty and proud, we must nevertheless study a modest and humble deportment. These external performances are of little value in themselves, yet may they help us forward to better things. It is always good to be doing what we can, for then God is wont to assist our feeble endeavours. Nor need we fear the imputation of hypocrisy, though our actions thus somewhat out-run our affections, seeing they still proceed from a sense of our duty, and our design is not to appear better than we are, but that we may really become so.

♦ “require” replaced with “requires” per Errata

♠ “owe” replaced with “own” per Errata

_We must endeavour to form internal acts of devotion, charity, &c._

16. Moreover, let us be often lifting up our hearts to God; and if we do not say that we love him above all things, let us at least acknowledge that it is our duty, and would be our happiness so to do. Let us lament the dishonour done him by sinful men, and applaud the praises that are given him by that glorious company above. Let us yield ourselves up to him a thousand times, to be governed by his laws, and disposed of at his pleasure: and though our stubborn heart start back, yet let us tell him we are convinced that his will is always just and good; and therefore desire him to do with us whatsoever he pleaseth, whether we will or not.

Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godliness: and when we are employing the powers that we have, the Spirit of God is wont to strike in, and elevate these acts of our soul beyond the pitch of nature, and give them a divine impression.

_Consideration a great instrument of religion._

17. I shall mention but two other helps; and the first is, deep and serious consideration. *The assent which is ordinarily given to divine truths, is very faint and languid. Men are unwilling to quarrel with the religion of their country; but are seldom at the pains to consider what they profess to believe; and thence it is, that they have so little influence on their practice. Those _spiritless and paralytic thoughts_ (as one rightly terms them) are not able to move the will, and direct the hand. We must therefore labour for a full persuasion of divine truths, a sense and feeling of spiritual things. Let us urge forward our spirits, and make them approach the invisible world, and fix our mind upon immaterial things, till we clearly perceive that these are no dreams; nay, that all things are dreams and shadows besides them. When we look about us, and behold the beauty and magnificence of this goodly frame, the order and harmony of the whole creation, let our thoughts from thence take their flight toward that omnipotent wisdom and goodness which did at first produce, and doth still uphold the same. When we reflect upon ourselves, let us consider that we are not a mere piece of organized matter, a curious and well contrived engine; that there is more in us than flesh, and blood, and bones, even a divine spark, capable to know, and love, and enjoy our Maker. And though it be now exceedingly clogged with its dull and lumpish companion; yet ere long it shall be delivered, and can subsist without the body, as well as that can do without the cloaths, which we throw off at our pleasure. Let us often withdraw our thoughts from this earth, this scene of misery, and folly, and sin, and raise them towards that glorious world; whose innocent and blessed inhabitants solace themselves eternally in the divine presence, and know no other passion, but an unmixed joy, and an unbounded love: and then consider how the blessed Son of God came down to this lower world to live among us, and die for us, that he might bring us to a portion of the same felicity; and think how he hath overcome the sharpness of death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers, and is now set down on the _right-hand of the Majesty on high_¹; and yet is not the less mindful of us, but receiveth our prayers, and presenteth them unto his Father, and is daily visiting his church with the influences of his Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams.

¹ Hebrews i. 3.

_We should consider the excellency of the divine nature._

18. Let me further suggest some particular subjects of meditation. And first, if we would love God, let us consider the excellency of his nature, and his love and kindness towards us. It is little we know of the divine perfections; and yet that little may fill our souls with admiration and love. If it be the understanding that directs the affections, certainly the excellencies of the divine nature (the traces whereof we cannot but discover in every thing we behold) should not fail to engage our hearts. Shall we not be infinitely more transported with that almighty wisdom and goodness, which fills the universe, and displays itself in all the parts of the creation, which establisheth the frame of nature, and turneth the mighty wheels of providence, and keepeth the world from disorder and ruin, than with the faint rays of the same perfections which we meet with in our fellow creatures? Shall we doat on the scattered pieces of a rude and imperfect picture, and never be affected with the original beauty? This were an unaccountable stupidity and blindness. Whatever we find lovely in a friend, or in a saint, ought not to engross, but to elevate our affection: we should conclude with ourselves, that if there be so much sweetness in a drop, there must be infinitely more in the fountain. If there be so much splendor in a ray, what must the sun be in its glory?

19. Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the object, as if God were at too great a distance for our converse or love: _he is not far from every one of us; for in him we live, and move, and have our being_.¹ We cannot open our eyes, but we must behold some footsteps of his glory; and we cannot turn them toward him, but we shall be sure to find his intent upon us, waiting as it were to catch a look, ready to entertain the most intimate communion with us. Let us therefore endeavour to raise our minds to the clearest conceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider all that his works declare, or his word discovers of him unto us; and let us especially contemplate that visible representation of him which was made in our own nature by his Son, who was _the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person_,² and who appeared in the world to discover at once what God is, and what we ought to be. Let us represent him unto our minds as we find him described in the gospel, and there we shall behold the perfections of the divine nature, tho’ covered with the veil of human infirmities. And while we contemplate a Being, infinite in power, in wisdom, and goodness, the author and fountain of all perfections, let us pray that our eyes may affect our heart,³ and while we are musing the fire may burn.⁴

¹ Acts xvii. 27.

² Hebrews i. 3.

³ Lamentations iii. 51.

⁴ Psalms xxxix. 3.

_We should meditate on his goodness and love._

20. Hereunto add the consideration of God’s favour and goodwill towards us. Now as the word of God is full of the expressions of his love towards man, so all his works loudly proclaim it. He gave us our being, and by preserving us in it, doth renew the donation every moment. He hath placed us in a rich and well-furnished world, and liberally provided for all our necessities. He raineth down blessings from heaven upon us, and causeth the earth to bring forth our provision. He giveth us our food and raiment; and while we are spending the productions of one year, he is preparing for us against another. He sweetneth our lives with innumerable comforts, and gratifieth every faculty with suitable objects. The eye of his providence is always upon us, and he watcheth for our safety when we are fast asleep, neither minding him nor ourselves. But lest we should think these testimonies of his kindness less considerable, because they are the easy issues of his omnipotent power, and do not put him to any trouble or pain, he hath taken a more wonderful method to endear himself to us. He hath testified his affection to us, by suffering as well as by doing; and because he could not suffer in his own nature, he assumed ours. The eternal Son of God cloathed himself with the infirmities of our flesh, and left the company of those blessed spirits, who knew well how to love and adore him, that he might dwell among men, and wrestle with the obstinacy of that rebellious race to reduce them to their allegiance, and to offer himself up as a sacrifice for them. I remember one of the poets hath an ingenious fancy to express the passion wherewith he found himself overcome after a long resistance, _That the God of love had shot all his golden arrows at him, but could never pierce his heart, till at length he put himself into the bow, and darted himself straight into his breast_. Methinks this doth someway adumbrate God’s method of dealing with men: he had long contended with a stubborn world, and thrown down many a blessing upon them; and when all his other gifts could not prevail, he at last made a gift of himself. The account which we have of our Saviour’s life in the gospel doth all along present us with the story of his love. All the pains that he took, and the troubles that he endured, were the wonderful effects, and uncontroulable evidences of it. But, O that last, that dismal scene! Is it possible to remember it, and question his kindness, or deny him ours? Here, here it is we should fix our most serious thoughts, _that Christ may dwell in our hearts by faith; that we being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth and length, and depth and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that we may be filled with all the fulness of God_!¹

¹ Ephesians iii. 17, 18, 19.

21. We ought also frequently to reflect on those particular tokens of love, which God hath bestowed on ourselves; how long he hath borne with our follies and sins, and waited to be gracious unto us; wrestling, as it were, with the stubbornness of our hearts, and essaying every method to reclaim us. We should keep a register in our minds of all the eminent blessings and deliverances we have met with; some whereof have been so conveyed, that we might clearly perceive they were not the issues of chance, but the gracious effects of the divine favour, and the signal returns of our prayers.

_As a help to charity, we must remember that all men are nearly related to God._

22. If we would love all men, let us consider the relation wherein they stand to God, and the impresses of his image, which are stamped upon them. They are not only his creatures, the workmanship of his hands, but such of whom he taketh special care, and for whom he hath a very tender regard; having laid the designs of their happiness before the foundations of the world; and being willing to live and converse with them to all eternity. The meanest and most contemptible person whom we behold, is the offspring of heaven, one of the children of the Most High; and, however unworthy he may behave himself of that relation to God, so long as God hath not disowned himself by a final sentence, he will have us acknowledge him as one of his; and, as such, embrace him with a cordial affection. What a concern are we wont to have for those that any ways belong to the person whom we love? How gladly do we lay hold on every opportunity to gratify the child or servant of a friend? And sure our love towards God would as naturally spring forth in charity towards men, did we mind the interest that he is pleased to take in them; and consider that every soul is dearer to him than the material world; and that he did not account the blood of his Son too great a price for their redemption.

_That they carry his image upon them._

23. Again, as all men stand in a near relation to God, so they have still so much of his image stamped on them, as may excite us to love them. In some this image is more conspicuous, and we can discern the lovely tracts of wisdom and goodness. And though, in others, it be miserably sullied and defaced, yet it is not altogether erased. Some lineaments still remain: all men are endowed with rational and immortal souls, with understandings and wills capable of the most excellent things. And if they be at present disordered and put out of tune by wickedness and folly, this may indeed move our compassion, but ought not to extinguish our love. When we see a person of a rugged humour and perverse disposition, full of malice and dissimulation, very foolish, and very proud, it is hard to fall in love with an object that presents itself unto us, under an idea so little grateful and lovely. But when we consider these evil qualities as the diseases of a soul, which in itself is capable of all that wisdom and goodness, wherewith the best of saints have ever been adorned, this will turn our aversion into pity, and make us behold him with such resentments, as we have when we look on a beautiful body that is mangled with wounds, or disfigured by some loathsome disease. And however we hate the vices we shall not cease to love the man.

_Prayer another instrument of religion; the advantages of mental prayer._

24. There remains yet another help; and that is, fervent prayer. Holiness is the gift of God; indeed the greatest gift he doth bestow, or we are capable to receive, and he hath promised his Holy Spirit to those that ask it of him. In prayer we make the nearest approaches to God, and lie open to the influences of heaven: then it is that the sun of righteousness doth visit us with his directest rays, and dissipateth our darkness, and imprinteth his image on our souls. I cannot now insist on the advantages of this exercise, or the dispositions wherewith it ought to be performed; I shall only tell you, that as there is one sort of prayer, wherein we make use of the voice, which is necessary in public; and may sometimes have its advantage in private; and another wherein, though we utter no sound, yet we conceive the expressions, and form the words in our mind; so there is a third kind of prayer, wherein the soul takes a higher flight, and having collected all its forces, by long and serious meditation, it darteth itself (if I may so speak) towards God, in sighs and groans, and thoughts too big for expression.

This mental prayer is one of the most powerful instruments of the divine life; and it may be the apostle hath a peculiar respect unto it, when he saith, that _the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, making intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered_.

_The use of the holy sacrament._

25. I shall recommend but one more help; and that is, the conscientious use of that holy sacrament, which is peculiarly appointed to nourish and increase the spiritual life, when once it is begotten in the soul. All the instruments of religion meet together in this ordinance; and while we address ourselves to it, we are put to practise all the rules which were mentioned before. Then it is that we make the severest survey of our actions, and lay the strictest obligations on ourselves: then are our minds raised to the highest contempt of the world, and every grace doth exercise itself with the greatest activity and vigour. All the subjects of contemplation there present themselves unto us with the greatest advantage; and then, if ever, doth the soul make its most powerful sallies towards heaven, and assault it with a holy and acceptable force. And certainly the neglect, or careless performance of this duty, is one of the chief causes that be-dwarfs our religion, and make us continue of so low a size.

A PRAYER.

_AND now, O most gracious God, Father and fountain of mercy, who hast blessed us with the knowledge of our happiness, and the way that leadeth unto it, excite in our souls such ardent desires after the one as may put us forth to the diligent prosecution of the other. Let us neither presume on our own strength, nor distrust thy assistance; but while we are doing our utmost endeavours, still depend on thee for success. Open our eyes, O God, and teach us out of thy law. Bless us with an exact and tender sense of our duty, and a knowledge to discern perverse things. O that our ways were directed to keep thy statutes! Then shall we not be ashamed when we have a respect unto all thy commandments. Possess our hearts with a generous and holy disdain of all those poor enjoyments which this world holdeth out to allure us, that they may never be able to inveigle our affections, or betray us to any sin. Turn away our eyes from beholding vanity, and quicken thou us in thy law. Fill our souls with such a deep sense of those great truths which thou hast revealed in the gospel, as may influence and regulate our whole conversation: so that the life which we henceforth live in the flesh, we may live through faith in the Son of God. O that the infinite perfections of thy blessed nature, and the astonishing expressions of thy goodness may overpower our hearts; that they may be constantly rising towards thee in flames of devout affection, and enlarging themselves in cordial love towards all the world for thy sake; and that we may cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in thy fear, without which we can never hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, O God, grant that the consideration of what thou art, and what we ourselves are, may both humble and lay us low before thee, and also stir up in us the strongest and most ardent aspirations towards thee. We desire to give up ourselves to the conduct of thy Holy Spirit: lead us in thy truth, and teach us, for thou art the God of our salvation. Guide us with thy counsel, and afterwards receive us unto glory; for the merits and intercession of thy blessed Son, our Saviour._ Amen.

The End of the EIGHTH VOLUME.

ERRATA, Volume VIII.

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