pdf-to-markdown/examples/Life-Of-God-In-Soul-Of-Man.md

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## LIFE OF GOD

##### SOUL OF MAN

o

BOSTON:

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NICHOLS AND NoC|TE>3.
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iS6S.
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'*"^" '^'
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J >. '[^5]
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THE NEW YORK
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PUBLIC LIBRARY^
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793478 A
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ASTOR, LENOX AND
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TlLDtN FOUNDATIONS!
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H[^1935] L
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CAMBRIDGE t
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fRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
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I r C c< <

PREFACE.

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nr^HERE are books which never grow old :
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and this precious Httle volume, by Henry
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ScouGAL, is to be numbered among them.
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In it is an eternal freshness and beauty, its
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bloom actually brightening wdth advancing
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time. These words, for two centuries, have
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been bread of life to thousands. They have,
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through that long period, guided, comforted,
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and inspired ; from that fact, they possess ad-
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ditional interest, for they have stood the severest
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test, and been found adequate to meet the deep-
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est Avants of human nature in its most trying-
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needs. This "Life of God in the Soul of
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Man " has somethino- of that divine life within
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.itself wliich can impart of its own fulness to

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every soul ready to receive. The very breath
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of Jehovah may be felt through it. It kindles

in the soul a sympathetic power, and lifts it

into connection with higher realms. With its

holy fervor there is blended a natural calm-

ness. Health and healing are in its influence.

Practical throughout, there is also a heavenlv

spirituality. Rising above all narrow limita-

tions, the devout of every name may hold it in

reverence, and cherish its counsels with grati-

tude and love. To the young, it will prove,

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armor of strength ; to the aged, perpetual reno-
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vation ; while Christians of all communions

will find within it a foretaste of immortality.

The life to which it would lead is a heaven

upon earth, and that is but the commencement

of a heaven without end. To all who hold in

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honor Christ and his gospel, to those who would
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love God and man, to each one who would so

live in time as to make it the joyous gate-

w^ay to a glorious eternity, this little volume

should be heartily welcome ; and we doubt not

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such welcome it will widely receive.
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Henry Scougal was the son of the Bishop
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```
of Aberdeen, in Scotland. Born, June, 1650,
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at the age of fifteen he entered the Universit}',
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and at the early ao-e of twenty he became
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professor of philosophy. Haying most ac-
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ceptabl}^ fulfilled this important office for four
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3^ears, he prepared himself for the ministry,

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and was established in a small yillage about
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twenty miles from Aberdeen. From this place,

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howeyer, he was soon urged to enter upon
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the Professorship of Diyinity in King's Col-

leo-e, which duties he discharij^ed with honor :

but, at the earh' aixe of twenty-seyen, his health

gaye way, and on the 13th of June, 1678, he

closed his brief but useful career. One year

before his departure, this inyaluable treatise

was giyen to the world. It was modestly

written, only for priyate use ; but Bishop

Burnet, seeing it, appreciated it so highly

that he hastened to giye it to the world

with the most generous and earnest com-

mendation. "It was written," he says, "by a

pious and learned countryman of mine, for the

private use of a noble friend of the author's,

without the least design of making it more

public. Others, seeing it, were much taken,

both with the excellent purposes it contained,

and the great clearness and pleasantness of the

style, the natural method and shortness of it,

and desired it might be made a more public

good."

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Some time after, another edition of this in-
```
comparable treatise was published, with a

preface by the Principal of the College of

Edinburgh, in which he says, "Since I had

the happiness of becoming acquainted with

this book, I have heartily blessed God for the

benefit I have received by the perusal of it,

and have earnestly wished it had a place in

every family ; was carefully perused by every-

one who can read ; and that the sentiments of

pure and undefiled religion it contains, were

impressed upon every heart.''

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Among other special excellencies, the same
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writer dwells upon '"the prudence and charity.

the author discovers, in avoidino- matters ot

doubttiil disputation, about which the best and

wisest men differ, while he is treating of mat-

ters of the greatest importance, about which

all good and wise men must agree.''—" Had

we more," he adds,
'' of that true Christian

spirit so beautifully delineated and so warmly

recommended in this book, I cannot but think

that the tierceness of our contentions and ani-

mosities about things of lesser moment must

considerably abate."

```
The present edition of this volume is pub-
```
lished by the request of one who, for nearly

eighty years, has found in it a continued re-

source and pleasure. Now at the advanced

age of ninety, with a keen appreciation of

present enjoyments and privileges, he looks

tbrward with growing earnestness and happv

anticipation to the sublime realities of the fu-

ture. Much that he has enjoyed, through

his pleasant pilgrimage, as well as the heav-

enlv Vision which kindles before the eve of

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Faith, is associated with this little volume,
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familiar to him from his 3^outh. Having de-

rived so much happiness and advantage from

it himself, he desires to place it within the

reach of others, confident that, with the bless-

ing of Providence, it can only be productive

of increasino- crood.

```
R. C. W.
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Boston. December, 1S67.

###### THE LIFE OF GOD

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SOUL OF ^lAX.
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THE LIFE OF GOD
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SOUL OF MAN.
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IV /TY Dear Friend, —This designation doth

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give vou a title to all the endeavors
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whereby I can serve 3'our interests ; and your

pious inclinations do so happily conspire v/ith

my duty, that I shall not need to step out of

my road to gratify you ; but I may at once

perform an office of friendship, and discharge

an exercise of my function, since the advancing

of virtue and holiness (which I hope you make

your greatest study) is the peculiar business of

my employment. This, therefore, is the most

proper instance wherein I can vent my affec-

tion, and express my gratitude towards you ;

and I shall not any longer delay the perform-

ance of the promise I made you to this purpose.

For though I know you are provided with bet-

ter helps of this nature than any I can offer

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The Life of God
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you ; nor are 3^ou like to meet with any thing

here which you knew not before ; yet I am

hopeful, that what cometh from one whom you

are pleased to honor w^ith your friendship, and

which is more particularly designed for your

use, will be kindly accepted by you : and God's

providence perhaps ma}^ so direct my thoughts,

that something or other may prove useful to

you. Nor shall I doubt your pardon, if, for

moulding my discourse into the better frame,

I lay a low foundation, beginning with the

nature and properties of religion, and all along

give such w^av to mv thoughts in the prosecu-

tion of the subject, as may bring me to say

many things which were not necessary, did I

only consider to whom I am writing.

## MISTAKES ABOUT RELIGION.

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T CANNOT speak of religion, but I must
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lament, that, among so many pretenders to
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it, so few understand w^iat it means : some

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placing it in the understanding, in orthodox
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notions and opinions ; and all the account they
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can give of their religion is, that they are of
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this or the other persuasion, and have joined

themselves to one of those many sects where-

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into Christendom is most unhappily divided.
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Others place it in the outward man, in a con-
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stant course of external duties, and a model of

performances : if they live peaceably with their

neighbors, keep a temperate diet, observe the

returns of worship, frequenting the church and

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 the affections, in rapturous

heats and ecstatic devotion ; and all they aim

at, is, to pray with passion, and think of heaven

with pleasure, and to be affected with those

kind and melting expressions wherewith they

court their Saviour, till thev persuade them-

selves that they are mightily in love w^ith him ;

and from thence assume a great confidence of

their salvation, w4iich they esteem the chief

of Christian graces. Thus are those things

which have any resemblance of piety, and at

the best are but means of obtaining it, or par-

ticular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for

the whole of religion ; nay, sometimes wick-

edness and vice pretend to that name. I speak

not now of those gross impieties wherewith the

heathens were wont to worship their gods

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:
```
there are but too many Christians who would

consecrate their vices, and hallow their corrupt

affections ; whose rugged humor, and sullen

pride, must pass for Christian severity; whose

fierce wrath, and bitter rac^e acrainst their ene-

mies, must be called holy zeal ; whose petu-

lancy towards their superiors, or rebellion

against their governors, must have the name

of Christian couracre and resolution.

## WHAT RELIGION IS.

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TDUT certainly religion is quite another thing ;
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and they who are acquainted with it, will
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entertain far different thoughts, and disdain

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all those shadows and false imitations of it.
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They know by experience, that true religion

is an union of the soul with God, a real parti-

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cipation of the divine nature, the very image
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of God drawn upon the soul ; or, in the Apos-
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tie's phrase, it is Christ formed zuithin tis.

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 ; showing first how it is called

a life, and then how it is termed divine.

## THE PERMANENCY AND STABILITY OF

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RELIGION.
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## T CHOOSE to express it by the name oi life

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;
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first, because of its permanency and stabil-
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ity. Religion is not a sudden start, or passion
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of the mind ; not though it should rise to the

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height of a rapture and seem to transport a
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man to extraordinary performances. There
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are few but have convictions of the necessity
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of doing something for the salvation of their
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souls, which may push them forward some
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steps with a great deal of seeming haste. But
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anon they flag and give over : thev were in a
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hot mood, but now they are cooled : they did
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shoot forth fresh and high, but are quickly
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withered, because they had no root in them-
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selves. These sudden fits may be compared

to the violent and convulsive motions of bodies

newly beheaded, caused by the agitations of

the animal spirits, after the soul is departed :

which, however violent and impetuous, can be

of no long continuance : whereas the motions

of holy souls are constant and regular, pro-

ceeding from a permanent and lively principle.

It is true, this divine life continueth not always

in the same strength and vigor, but many times

suffers sad decays ; and holy men find greater

difficulty in resisting temptations, and less alac-

rity in the performance of their duties : yet it

is not quite extinguished, nor are they aban-

doned to the power of those corrupt affections

which sway and overrule the rest of the world.

THE FREEDOM AND UNXONSTRAINEDXESS OF

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RELIGION.
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A GAIN, religion may be defined by the
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name of life^ because it is an inward,
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free, and self-moving principle ; and those w^ho

have made progress in it, are not actuated only

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in the Soid of Man,
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by external motives, driven merely by threat-

enings, 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

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a command enjoining him so to do, as by a
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new nature instructing and prompting him to it

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;
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nor doth he pay his devotions as an unavoid-

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able tribute, only to appease the divine justice,
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or quiet his clamorous conscience ; but those
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religious exercises are the proper emanations
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of the divine lite, the natural employments

of the new^-born soul. He prays, and gives

thanks, and repents, not only because these

things are commanded, but rather because he

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is sensible of his w^ants, and of the divine
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goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sin-

ful life. His charity is not Ibrced, nor his

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alms extorted from him : his love makes him
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willing to give ; and though there were no out

•

ward obligation, his heart zvotild devise liberal

thing's. Injustice and intemperance, and all

other vices, are as contrary to his temper and

constitution, as the basest actions are to the

most generous spirit, and impudence and scur-

rility to those who are naturally modest : so

that I may well sa}^ with St. John, Whosoever

is born of God^ doth not coniniit sin; for his

seed remaineth in hini, and he cannot sin, be-

cause he is born of God. Though holy and

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 reason-

ableness, and purity, and goodness, which do

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 actuated, makes them be-

come a law unto themselves.

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Qiiis legem det amantibus?
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Major est amor lex ipse sibi.
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Who shall prescribe a law to those that love?
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Love's a more powerful law which doth them move.
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In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of
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himself, is in some measure applicable to his
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followers, that it is their meat and drink to do
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their Father's zvill: and as the natural appe-
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tite is carried out toward food, though we
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should not reflect on the necessity of it for the
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preservation of our lives ; so are they carried
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with a natural and unforced propension toward
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that which is good and commendable. It is
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true, external motives are many times of great
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use to excite and stir up this inward principle,
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especially in its infancy and weakness, when
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it is often so languid that the man himself can
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scarce discern it, hardl}^ being able to move
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one step forward, but when he is pushed by
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his hopes, or his fears ; by the pressure of an
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affliction, or the sense of a mercy ; by the au-
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thority of the law, or the persuasion of others.
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Now, if such a person be conscientious and
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uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groan-

ing under the sense of his dulness, and is de-

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sirous to perform his duties with more spirit
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and vigor : these are the first motions of the
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divine life, which, though it be faint and
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weak, will surely be cherished by the influ-

ences of heaven, and grow unto greater ma-

turity. But he who is utterly destitute of this

inward principle, and doth not aspire unto it,

but contents himself with those performances

whereunto he is prompted b}^ education or

custom, by the fear of hell, or carnal notions

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of heaven, can no more be accounted a reli-
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gious person, than a puppet can be called a
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man. This forced and artificial religion is
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commonly heavy and languid, like the motion
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of a weight forced upward : it is cold and

spiritless, like the uneasy compliance of a

wife married against her will, who carries it

dutifully toward the husband whom she doth

not love, out of some sense of virtue or honor.

Hence also this religion is scant and nig-

gardly, especially in those duties which do

greatest violence to men's carnal inclinations ;

and those slavish spirits will be sure to do no

more than is absolutely required : it is a law

that compels them, and they will be loath to go

beyond what it stints them to; nay, they will

ever be putting such glosses on it, as may

leave themselves the greatest liberty ; whereas

the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal,

far from such peevish and narrow reckoning ;

and he who hath given himself entirely unto

God, will never think he doth too much for

him.

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RELIGION A DIVINE PRINCIPLE.
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## T3 Y this time I hope it doth appear, that

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rehgion is, with a great deal of reason,
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termed a lifc^ or vital principle ; and that it
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is ver}' necessary to distinguish between it, and
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that obedience which is constrained and de-
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pends on external causes. I come next to
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give an account why I defined it by the name
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of divine life. And so it may be called, not
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only in regard to its fountain and original,
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having God for its author, and being wrought
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in the souls of men by the power of his Holy

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Spirit ; but also in regard of its nature, reli-
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gion being a resemblance of the divine perfec-

tions, 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 good-

ness ; and they w^ho are endued with it, may

be said to have (j^od dzvelliug in their souls

and Christ formed zuithin them.

## WHAT THE NATURAL LIFE IS.

T3EFORE I descend to a more particular

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consideration of that divine life wherein
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true religion doth consist, 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 toward

those things which are pleasing and accepta-

ble 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, taking it largely, as it is opposed

unto faith, and importeth our perception and

sensation of things that are either grateful or

troublesome to us. Now, these animal affec-

tions considered in themselves, and as they

are implanted in us by nature, are not vicious

or blamable ; 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

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/;/ the Soul of Alan.
```
of a law unto the brute beasts, whereby they

are directed towards the ends for w4iich they

were made. But man, being made for higher

purposes, and to be guided by more excellent

laws, becomes (xuiltv and criminal w4ien he is

so far transported by the inclinations of this

low^er life, as to violate his duty, or neglect the

higher and more noble designs of his creation.

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Our natural affections are not w^ioll}" to be ex-
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tirpated and destroyed, but only to be mod-

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erated and overruled by a superior and more
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excellent principle. In a word, the difference
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between a religious and a wicked man is, that

in the one divine lile bears sway, in the other

the animal lite doth prevail.

THE DIFFERENT TEXDENXIES OF THE NATU-

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RAL LIFE.
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"pUT it is strange to observe, unto what dit-
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ferent courses this natural principle will
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sometimes carry those who are wholly guided
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by it, according to the diverse circumstances
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that concur with it to determine them ; and
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l6 The Life of God
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then not considering this, doth frequently oc-

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casion very dangerous mistakes, making men
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think well of themselves by reason of that

seeming difference which is between them and

others ; whereas perhaps their actions do all

the while flow from one and the same origi-

nal. If we consider the natural temper and

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constitution of men's souls, we shall find some
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to be airv, frolicsome, and light, which makes

their behavior extravagant and ridiculous

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;
```
whereas others are naturally serious and se-

vere, and their whole carriage composed into

```
such gravity as gains them a great deal of
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reverence and esteem. Some are of an humor-

some, rugged, and morose temper, and can

neither be pleased themselves, nor endure

that others should be so. But all are not

born with such sour and unhappy dispositions ;

for some persons have a certain sweetness and

benignity rooted in their natures, and they

find the greatest pleasure in the endearments

of society, and the mutual complacency of

friends, and covet nothing more than to have

everybody obliged to them. And it is well

that nature hath provided this complexional

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tenderness to supply the defect of true charity
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in the world, and to incline men to do some-
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thing for one another's welfare. Again, in
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regard of education, some have never been
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taught to follow any other rules, than those
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of pleasure or advantage : but others are so
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inured to observe the strictest rules of decency
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and honor, and some instances of virtue, that
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they are hardly capable of doing any thing
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which they have been accustomed to look
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upon as base and unworthy.
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In line, it is no small difference in the de-
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portment of mere natural men, that doth arise
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from the strength or weakness of their wit or
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judgment, and from their care or negligence

in using them. Intemperance and lust, in-

justice and oppression, and all those other im-

pieties which abound in the world, and render

it so miserable, are the issues of self-love, the

effect of the animal lifc^ when it is neither

overpowered by religion, nor governed by

natural reason. But if it once take hold of

reason, and get judgment and wit to be of its

party, it will many times disdain the grosser

sort of vices, and spring up unto fair imita-

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2
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```
8
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tions of virtue and goodness. If a man have
```
```
but so much reason as to consider the preju-
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dice which intemperance and inordinate lust
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```
do bring upon his health, his fortune, and his
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reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain
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```
him ; and one may observe the rules of moral
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justice in dealing with others, as the best way

to secure his own interest, and maintain his

```
credit in the world. But this is not all. This
```
```
natural principle, by the help of reason, may
```
take a higher flight, and come nigher the

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instances of piety and religion. It may in-
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cline a man to the diligent study of divine
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```
truths : for why should not these, as well as
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```
other speculations, be pleasant and grateful to
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```
curious and inquisitive minds? It may make
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men zealous in maintaining and propagating
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```
such opinions as they have espoused, and be
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very desirous that others should submit unto
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```
their judgment, and approve the choice of re-
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```
ligion which they themselves have made. It
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may make them delight to hear and compose
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excellent discourses about the matters of reli-
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gion ; for eloquence is very pleasant whatever
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```
be the subject. Nay, some it may dispose to
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no small height of sensible devotion. The
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glorious things that are spoken of heaven,
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```
may make even a carnal heart in love with
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```
it ; the metaphors and similitudes made use of
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```
in scripture, of crowns and sceptres, and rivers
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```
of pleasure, &c. will easily affect a man's
```
```
fancy, and make him wish to be there, though
```
```
he neither understand nor desire those spirit-
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```
ual pleasures which are described and shad-
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```
owed forth by them : and when such a person
```
```
comes to believe that Christ has purchased
```
```
those glorious things for him, he may feel a
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,kind of tenderness and affection towards so

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great a benefactor, and imagine that he is
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```
mightily enamoured with him, and vet all the
```
```
while continue a stranger to the holy temper
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```
and spirit of the blessed Jesus. And what
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hand the natural constitution may have in the
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rapturous devotions of some melancholy per-
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sons, hath been excellently discovered of late
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by several learned and judicious pens.
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To conclude : there is nothing proper to
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```
make a man's life pleasant, or himself emi-
```
```
nent and conspicuous in the world, but this
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```
natural principle, assisted by wit and reason,
```
may prompt him to it. And though I do not

```
condemn these things in themselves, yet it
```
```
concerns us nearty to know and consider their
```
```
nature, both that we may keep within due
```
bounds, and also that we may learn never to

value ourselves on the account of such attain-

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ments, nor lay the stress of religion upon our
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natural appetites or performances.
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\VHEREIN THE DIVINE LIFE DOTH CONSIST.
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```
TT is now time to return to the consideration
```
```
of that divine life whereof I was discours-
```
ing before ; that life which is hid with Christ

in God, and therefore hath no glorious show

or appearance in the world, and to the natural

man will seem a mean and insipid notion. As

the animal life consisteth in that narrow and

confined love which is terminated on a man's

self, and in his propension towards those things

that are pleasing to nature ; so the divine life

stands in an universal and unbounded affec-

tion, and in the mastery over our natural

inclinations, that they may never be able to

```
betray us to those things which we know
```
```
to be blamable. The root of the divine Hfe
```
```
is faith ; the chief branches are, love to God,
```
```
charity to man, purity and humihty : for (as
```
```
an excellent person hath well observed) how-
```
```
ever these names be common and vulgar, and
```
```
make no extraordinary sound ; 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 nothing else but 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

and reconcilableness to sinners through a

Mediator ; and therefore, receiving its de-

nomination from that principal object, is ordi-

narily termed faith in Jesus Christ,

```
The love of God is a delightful and affec-
```
tionate sense of the divine perfections, which

makes the soul resign and sacrifice itself

wholly unto him, desiring above all things to

please him, and delighting in nothing so much

```
as in fellowship and communion with him, and
```
being ready to do or suffer any thing for his

```
sake, or at his pleasure. Though this affec-
```
tion may have its first rise from the favors

```
and mercies of God towards ourselves, yet
```
```
doth it in its growth and progress transcend
```
```
such particular considerations, and ground
```
itself on his infinite goodness manifested in

all the works of creation and providence. A

soul thus possessed with divine love, must

needs be enlarged towards all mankind in a

sincere and unbounded affection, because of

the relation the}^ have to God, being his crea-

tures, 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 neighbor, are eminendy

comprehended : for he who doth truly love all

the world, will be nearly concerned in the

interest of every one ; and so far from wrong-

ing or injuring any person, that he will resent

any evil that befalls others, as if it happened

to himself.

```
^y j)iirity, I understand a due abstractedness
```
from the bodv, and mastery over the inferior

appetites ; or such a temper and disposition of

mind, as makes a man despise, and abstain

from all pleasures and delights of sense or

fancy which are sintul in themselves or tend to

extinguish or lessen our relish of more divine

and intellectual pleasures ; which doth also in-

fer a resoluteness to undergo all those hardships

he may meet with in the performance of his

duty. So that not only chastity and temper-

ance, but also Christian courage and magna-

nimity may come under this head.

```
Humility imports a deep sense of our own
```
weakness, with a hearty and affectionate ac-

knowledgment of our owing all that we are to

the divine bounty ; which is always accompa-

nied with a profound submission to the will of

God, and great deadness towards the glory

of the world, and applause of men.

```
These are the highest perfections that either
```
men or angels are capable of; the verv founda-

tion of heaven laid in the soul. x\nd he who

hath attained them, needs not desire to prv into

the hidden rolls of God's decrees, or search

the volumes of heaven, to know what is deter-

mined about his everlasting condition ; but he

may find a copy of God's thoughts concerning

him written in his own breast. His love to

God may give him assurance of God's favor to

```
him ; and those beginnings of happiness which
```
he feels in the conformity of the powers of his

soul to the nature of God, and compliance with

his will, 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 God-

like 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.
```
```
"\"\ 7'HEN we have said all that we can, the
```
```
secret m3'steries of a new nature and di-
```
```
vine life can never be sufficiently expressed
```
```
;
```
language and words cannot reach them : nor can

they be truly understood but by those souls that

are enkindled within, and awakened unto the

sense and rehsh of spiritual things. The7'e is a

spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Al-

mighty giveth him tindei'standing. The power

and life of religion may be better expressed in

actions than in words ; because actions are more

lively things, and do better represent the in-

ward principle whence they proceed ; and there-

fore we may take the best measure of those

gracious endowments from the deportment of

those in wiiom they reside ; especially as they

```
are perfectly exemplified in the holy life of our
```
blessed Saviour ; a main part of whose busi-

```
ness in this world, was, to teach by his practice
```
```
what he did require 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 w^as then when his presence did beautify and
```
```
illustrate this lower world.
```
```
DIVINE LOVE EXEMPLIFIED IN OUR SAVIOUR:
```
```
His diligence in doing God's ivill, and His patience in
```
```
bearing it.
```
```
"^ I ^HAT sincere and devout affection where-
```
```
with his blessed soul did constantly burn
```
```
towards his heavenly Father, did express itself
```
```
in an entire resignation to his will. It was his
```
```
very meat^ to do the zuill, and finish the work
```
```
of hivi that sent him. This was the exercise of
```
```
his childhood, and the constant employment
```
```
of his riper age. He spared no travail or pains
```
```
while he was about his Father's business, but
```
```
took such infinite content and satisfaction in the
```
```
performance of it, that when, being faint and
```
```
weary with his journey, he rested himself on
```
Jacob's well, and entreated water of the Sama-

```
ritan 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 have redounded to his very
```
body, refreshing his spirits, and making him

forget the thirst whereof he complained before,

```
and refuse the meat which he had sent his dis-
```
```
ciples to buy. Nor was he less patient and
```
```
submissive in suffering the will of God, than
```
```
diligent in doing of it. He endured the sharp-
```
est 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, or a fan-

tastic or Stoical obstinacy, 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 szvcat, and the sore amaze-

ment and sorrozv which he professed, do abun-

dantly declare) ; yet did he entirely submit to

that severe dispensation of Providence, and

```
willingly acquiesced in it.
```
```
And he prayed to God, that (f it werepossi-
```
```
ble^ (or, as one of the Evangelists hath it, if he
```
```
were zvilling,) that cup anight be removed;
```
yet he gendy added. Nevertheless, not my

zvill, but thine be done. Of what strange

```
importance are the expressions, fohn xii. 27,
```
```
where he first acknowledgeth the anguish
```
```
of his spirit, Novj is my soul troubled; which
```
```
would seem to produce a kind of demur. And
```
```
what shall I say f and then he goes on to
```
deprecate his sufferings, Father^ save mefrom

this hour; which he had no sooner uttered, but

he doth, as it were, on second thoughts, recall

it in these words, But for this cause catne I

into the world; and concludes, Father, glo-

rify thy name. Now, we must not look on

this as any levity, or blamable weakness in

the blessed Jesus. He knew all along what he

was to suffer, and did most resolutely undergo

it. But it shows us the inconceivable weight

and pressure that he was to bear ; which, being

so afflicting, and contrary to nature, he could

not think of without terror ; yet, considering

the will of God, and the glory w^hich was to

redound to him from thence, he was not only

content but desirous to suffer it.

## OUR SAVIOUR'S CONSTANT DEVOTION.

```
A NOTHER instance of his love to God,
```
```
w^as, his delight in conversing with him
```
by prayer ; w^hich made him frequently retire

from the world, and with the greatest devotion

and pleasure spend whole nights in that heav-

```
enly 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 w^ont
```
```
to drive us to our devotions. Nay, we may
```
```
say his w^hole life w^as a kind of prayer, a con-
```
```
stant course of communion with God ; if the
```
```
sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the
```
```
fire still kept alive : nor was ever the blessed
```
Jesus surprised with that dulness or tepidity of

```
spirit which we must many times wrestle with,
```
```
before we can be fit for the exercise of devo-
```
tion.

## OUR SAVIOUR'S CHARITY TO MEN.

```
TN the second place, I should speak of his
```
```
love and charity towards all men. But he
```
who would express it, must transcribe the his-

```
tory of the gospel, and comment upon it : for
```
```
scarce anv thino; is recorded to have been done
```
or spoken by him, which was not designed for

the good and advantage of some one or other.

```
All his miraculous works were instances of his
```
goodness, as well as his power; and they ben-

efited those on ^Yhom they were wrought, as

well as they amazed the beholders. His char-

ity 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 towards the beloved disciple, but

every one was his friend who obeyed his holy

commands^ John xv. 14; 'dndizuhosoever did the

will of his leather, the same was to him as his

brotheri and sister, and mother.

```
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 that

Roman Emperor, whom for his goodness they

called the darling of mankind, was really per-

formed 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. And certainly it troubled our Sav-

iour, to see that when a price was in his hand

to get wisdom, yet he had no heart to it. The

ingenuity that appeared in his lirst address, had

already procured some kindness for him ; for

it is said, avd ycstis belwldiiig hivi, loved him.

But must he for his sake cut out a new way to

heaven, and alter the nature of things, which

make it impossible that a covetous man should

be happy?

```
And what shall I speak of his meekness,
```
who could encounter the monstrous ingratitude

and dissimulation of that miscreant who be-

trayed him, in no harsher terms than these,

```
yudas, hetraycst thoit the Son of man zuifh a
```
kiss f What further evidence could we desire

of his fervent and unbounded charity, than that

```
he willingly laid down his life even 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 be-
```
```
come the means of eternal life to those very
```
```
persons who procured it?
```
### T

## OUR SAVIOUR'S PURITY.

```
HE third branch of the divine life is
```
```
ptirity ; which, as I said, consists in a
```
neglect of worldly enjoyments and accommo-

dations, 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 stepped out of his road to seek them.

He allowed others the comforts of w-edlock,

and honored marriage with his presence ; and

supplied the want of wine with a miracle, yet

he would not work one for the relief of his own

hunger in the w^ilderness : so gracious and

divine w^as the temper of his soul, in allowing

to others such lawful gratifications as himself

thought good to abstain from, and supplying

not only their more extreme and pressing ne-

cessities, but also their smaller and less consid-

erable w^ants. We many times hear of our

Saviour's sighs, and groans, and tears ; but

never that he laughed, and but once that he

rejoiced in spirit; so that through his w-hole

life he did exactly answer that character given

of him by the prophet of old, that he w'as a

man of sorrows^ and acquainted zvith g')'ief.

Nor were the troubles and disaccommodations

of his life other than matters of choice. For

never did there any appear on the stage of the

world with greater advantage 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 main-

tained an army powerful enough to have jostled

```
CcBsar out of his throne ; having oftener than
```
once fed several thousands with a few loaves

and small fishes. But, to show 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 and heir of all things, had 7iot
```
whereon to lay his head. He did not frequent

the courts of princes, nor afiect the acquaint-

```
ance or converse of great ones ; but, being
```
```
reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fisher-
```
```
men and such other poor people for his com-
```
```
3
```
```
panions, and lived at such a rate as suited with
```
```
the meanness of that condition.
```
## OUR SAVIOUR'S HUMILITY.

```
A ND 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 ofhim to he
```
```
meek and lozvly 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 our Saviour's lowly

```
and humble deportment while he was in the
```
```
world. He had none of those sins and im-
```
perfections which may justly humble the best

of men ; but 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 noth-

ing to himself for them, but with the pro-

foundest humility renounced all pretences to

them. Hence did he refuse that ordinary com-

```
pellation of good master, when addressed to
```
```
his human nature, by one whom it seems was
```
```
ignorant of his divinity : Why callest thou me
```
good P 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 perlbrmed in the eyes
```
```
of the world, for gaining him the greater fame.
```
```
But when his charity had prompted him to the
```
```
relief of the miserable, his humility made him
```
```
many times enjoin the concealment of the mir-
```
```
acle ; and when the glory of God, and the
```
```
design for which he came into the world, re-
```
```
quired the publication of them, he ascribed the
```
honor of all to his Father, telling them, that of

himself he was able to do 7iothing.

```
I cannot insist on all the instances of hu-
```
mility 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 did 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 meas-

ures of humility, and all the other parts of

religion which I have been endeavoring to de-

scribe.

```
But now, that I may lessen your trouble of
```
reading a long letter, by making some pauses

in it, let me here subjoin a prayer that might

be proper when one who had formerly enter-

tained some false notions of religion, begins to

discover what it is.

## A PRAYER.

```
" TNFINITE 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 I how
```
```
few are there that know and consider what it
```
```
means! How easily do we mistake the affec-
```
```
tions of our nature, and the issues of self-love
```
```
for those divine graces which alone can render
```
```
us acceptable in thy sight I It may justly
```
```
grieve me, to consider, that I should have
```
```
wandered so long, and contented myself so
```
```
often with vain shadows and false images of
```
```
pietv and religion : yet I cannot but acknowl-
```
```
edge 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 im-
```
provements my nature is capable of, and what

a divine temper of spirit doth shine in those

whom thou art pleased to choose, and causest

to approach unto thee. Blessed be thine in-

finite mercy, who sentest thine own Son to

dwell among men, and to instruct them by his

example as well as his laws, giving them a

perfect pattern of what they ought to be. Oh

that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may

be always in my thoughts, and before mine

```
eyes, till I receive a deep sense and impression
```
```
of those excellent graces that shined so emi-
```
```
nently in him ; and let me never cease my en-
```
```
deavors, till that new and divine nature prevail
```
```
in my soul and Christ be formed within me."
```
```
THE EXCELLENXY AND ADVANTAGE OF
```
```
RELIGION.
```
```
A ND now, my dear friend, having discov-
```
```
ered the nature of true religion, before I
```
```
proceed any further^, it will not perhaps be
```
```
unfit to fix our meditations a little on the excel-
```
```
lency and advantages of it ; that we may be
```
```
excited to the more vigorous and diligent prose-
```
```
cution of those methods whereby we may at-
```
```
tain so £ri*eat a felicitv. But alas! what words
```
```
shall we find to express that inward satisfaction,
```
```
those hidden pleasures which can never be
```
```
righdy understood, but by those holy souls who
```
```
feel them? A stranger intermeddleth not with
```
```
their joy. Holiness is the right temper, the
```
```
vigorous and healthful constitution of the soul.
```
```
Its faculties had formerl}^ been enfeebled and
```
```
disordered, so that they could not exercise their
```
```
natural functions ; it had wearied itself w^ith
```
```
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
```
vigor possesseth every part. The understand-

ing 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 they are stirred by more divine

impressions, are touched by a sense of invisi-

ble things.

#### L

## THE EXCELLENCY OF DIVINE LOVE.

```
ET us descend, if you please, into a nearer
```
```
and more particular view of religion, in
```
those several branches of it which were named

before. Let us consider that love and affec-

tion wherewith holy souls are united to God,

that w^e may see what excellency and felicity

is involved in it. Love is that powerful and

prevalent passion, by which all the faculties

and inclinations of the soul are determined,

and on which both its perfection and happi-

ness 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, doth advance
```
```
and nnprove the spirit into a conformit}^ with
```
the perfections which it loves. The images

```
of these do frequently present themselves unto
```
```
the mind, and, by a secret force and energy,
```
```
insinuate into the very constitution of the soul,
```
```
and mould and fashion it unto their own like-
```
```
ness. Hence we may see how easily lovers
```
```
or friends do slide into the imitation of the per-
```
```
sons w^hom 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 mien
```
```
and air. And certainly we should as well
```
transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of

the soul, if they were the object and motive

of our love. But now, as all the creatures

we converse with have their mixture and al-

loy, w^e are alwaj^s in hazard to be sullied and

corrupted by placing our affections on them.

Passion doth easily blind our eyes, so that we

first approve, and then imitate the things that

are blamable in them. The true way to im-

prove and ennoble our souls, is, bv fixing our

love on the divine perfections, that we may

have them always before us, and derive an

impression of them on ourselves, and behold-

ing with ofen face^ as in a glass, the glory of

the Lord, zue may be changed into the same

image, from glory to glory. He who with a

generous and holy ambition hath raised his

e3^es towards that uncreated beauty and good-

ness, 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. If any thing, else be counted ours, by

giving our love we give all, so far as we make

over our hearts and wills, b}' which we pos-

sess our other enjoyments. It is not possible

to refuse him anv thincr, to whom bv 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

readily give them, if they were in his power.

In which sense it is that one makes bold to

say, That divine love doth in a manner give

```
God unto himsef by the complacency it takes
```
in the happiness and perfection of his nature.

But though this may seem too strained an ex-

pression, certainly love is the worthiest present

we can offer unto God ; and it is extremely

debased when we bestow it another way.

```
When this affection is misplaced, it doth
```
often vent itself in such expressions as point at

its genuine and proper object, and insinuate

where it ought to be placed. The flattering

and blasphemous terms of adoration, wherein

men do sometimes express their passion, are

the language of that affection which was made

and 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 to 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 would
```
```
debase the soul if 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 ail the empires in the world.
```
## THE ADVANTAGES OF DIVINE LOVE.

```
\ GAIN, as div^ine love doth advance and
```
```
^ ^ elevate the soul, so it is that alone which
```
can make it happy. The highest and most

ravishing pleasures, the most solid and substan-

tial delights, that human nature is capable of,

are those which arise from the endearments of

a well-placed and successful affection. That

which imbitters love, and makes it ordinarily

a very troublesome and hurtful passion, is the

placing it on those who have not worth enough

to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to re-

quire it, or whose absence may deprive us of

the pleasure of their converse, or their miseries

occasion our trouble. To all these evils are

they exposed, whose chief and supreme affec-

tion is placed on creatures like themselves : but

the love of God delivers us from them all.

## THE WORTH OF THE OBJECT.

```
L^IRST, I say, love must needs be misera-
```
```
ble, and full of trouble and disquietude,
```
```
when there is not worth and excellency enough
```
```
in the object to answer the vastness of its ca-
```
```
pacity. So eager and violent a passion, can-
```
```
not but fret and torment the spirit, where it finds
```
```
not wherewith to satisfy its cravings. And, in-
```
```
deed, so large and unbounded is its nature, that
```
it must be extremely pinched and straitened,

when confined to any creature ; nothing below

an infinite good can aftbrd it room to stretch

itself, and exert its vigor and activity. What

is a little skin-deep beauty, or some small

degrees of goodness, to match or satisfy a pas-

sion which was made for God, designed to em-

brace an infinite good? No wonder lovers do

so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire

that others should approve their passion by im-

itating it. They know the scantiness and nar-

rowness 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.
```
```
But divine love hath no mixture of this gall
```
```
;
```
```
when once the soul is fixed on that supreme
```
```
and all-sufficient good, it finds so much per-
```
```
fection and goodness, as doth not only answer
```
```
and satisfy its affection, but master and over-
```
```
power it too : it finds all its love to be too faint
```
```
and languid for such a noble object, and is only
```
```
sorry that it can command no more. It wisheth
```
```
for the flames of a serafh. and longs for the
```
```
time when it shall be wholly melted and dis-
```
```
solved into love : and because it can do so little
```
```
itself, it desires the assistance of the whole crea-
```
```
tion, that angels and men would concur with it
```
```
in the admiration and love of those infinite per-
```
```
fections.
```
## THE CERTAINTY TO BE BELOVED AGAIN.

```
A GAIN, love is accompanied with trouble,
```
```
when it misseth a suitable return of affec-
```
```
tion : love is the most valuable thina" we can
```
```
bestow, and by giving it, we do in effect give
```
```
all that we have ; and therefore it needs must
```
```
be afflicting to find so great a gift despised,
```
```
that the present which one hath made of his
```
```
whole heart, cannot prevail to obtain any re-
```
turn. Perfect love is a kind of self-dereliction,

```
a wandering out of ourselves ; it is a kind of
```
voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to him-

```
self, and all his own interest, not thinking of
```
them, nor caring for them an}^ more, and mind-

ing nothing but how he may please and gratify

the party whom he loves. Thus he is quite

undone unless he meets with reciprocal aliec-

tion ; 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.

```
But why should I enlarge on so known a
```
matter? Nothing can be more clear, than that

the happiness of love depends on the return it

meets with. 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 choose but embrace us when

we are become his friends. It is utterly im-

possible that God should deny his love to a

```
soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires
```
```
nothing so much as to serve and please him.
```
```
He cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart
```
```
in which it is engraven. Love is all the trib-
```
```
ute which we can pay him, and it is the sacri-
```
```
fice which he will not despise.
```
```
THE PRESENXE OF THE BELOVED PERSON.
```
```
A XOTHER thing which disturbs the pleas-
```
```
ure of love, and renders it a miserable
```
```
and unquiet passion, is absence and separation
```
```
from those we love. It is not without a sensi-
```
```
ble affliction that friends do part, though for
```
```
some little time. It is sad to be deprived of
```
```
that society which is so delightful ; our life be-
```
```
comes tedious, being spent in an impatient ex-
```
```
pectation of the happy hour wherein we may
```
```
meet again. But if Death hath made the sep-
```
```
aration, as sometime or other it must, this occa-
```
```
sions a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the
```
```
misfortunes of human life, and wherein we pay
```
```
dear enough for the comforts of our friendship.
```
```
But oh 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 everywhere behold the traces of his
```
```
presence and glory, and converse with him
```
```
whom their soul loveth. And this makes the
```
```
darkest prison, or the wildest desert, not only
```
```
supportable, but delightful to them.
```
## THE DIVINE LOVE MAKES US PARTAKE OF

## AN INFINITE HAPPINESS.

TN 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

```
4
```
```
passion when placed on earth. The most for-
```
```
tunate person hath grief enough to mar the
```
```
tranquiUity 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 anoth-
```
```
er's. But if God were the object of our love,
```
```
we should share in an infinite happiness, with-
```
out any mixture or possibility of diminution ;

```
we should rejoice to behold the glor}" of God,
```
```
and receive comfort and pleasure from all the
```
praises wherewith men and angels do extol him.

```
It should delight us beyond all expression, to
```
consider, that the beloved of our souls is in,

finitely happy in himself, and that all his ene-

mies cannot shake or unsettle his throne ; that

our God is in the heavens^ and doth whatsoever

he fleascth.

```
Behold, on what sure foundations bis happi-
```
ness is built, whose soul is possessed with di-

vine love ; whose will is transformed into the

will of God, and whose greatest desire is, that

his Maker should be pleased. Oh the peace,

the rest, the satisfaction that attendeth such a

temper of mind!

## HE THAT LOVETH GOD FINDS SWEETNESS IN

## EVERY DISPENSATION.

T^T'HAT an infinite pleasure must it needs

```
be, thus, as it were, to lose ourselves
```
in him, and, being swallowed up in the over-

coming sense of his goodness, to offer our-

selves a living sacrifice, always ascending

unto him in flames of love I Never doth a

soul know what solid joy and substantial

pleasure is, till, once being weary of itself,

it renounces all property, gives itself up to

the author of its being, and teels itself become

a hallowed and devoted thing; and can say,

from an inward sense and feeling, My beloved

is jiime, (I account all his interest mine own)

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, would find pleasure in all the dispen-

sations of providence. Temporal enjoyments

```
would have another relish, when he should
```
taste the divine goodness in them, and con-

```
sider them as tokens of love sent by his dear-
```
```
est Lord and master. And chastisements,
```
```
though they be not joyous but grievous,
```
```
would hereby lose their sting : the rod as
```
```
well as the staff would comfort him : he
```
```
would snatch a kiss from the hand that was
```
```
smiting him, and gather sweetness from that
```
```
severity. Nay, he would rejoice, that though
```
```
God did not the will of such a worthless and
```
```
foolish creature as himself, yet he did his own
```
```
will, and accomplished his own designs, which
```
```
are infinitely more holy and wise.
```
## THE DUTIES OF RELIGION ARE DELIGHTFUL

## TO HIM.

```
^ I ^HE exercises of religion, which to others
```
```
are insipid and tedious, do yield the
```
```
highest pleasure and delight to souls pos-
```
```
sessed with divine love. They rejoice when
```
```
they are called to go up to the house of the
```
```
Lo7'd, that they may see his -power and his
```
glory^ as they have formerly seen it in his

```
sanctuary. They never think themselves so
```
```
happy as when, having retired from the
```
world, and gotten free from the noise and

hurry of affau's, and silenced all their clamor-

ous passions, (those troublesome guests with-

in,) they have placed themselves in the pres-

ence of God, and entertain fellowship and

communion with him. Thev deligrht to adore

his perfections, and recount his favors, 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 dis-

burden their hearts in his bosom. Repent-

ance itself is a delightful exercise, when it

floweth from the principle of love : there is a

secret sweetness \A'hich accompanieth those

tears of remorse, those meltings and relent-

ings of a soul returning unto God, and la-

menting its former unkindness.

```
The severities of a holy life, and that con-
```
stant watch which we are obliged to keep

over our hearts and ways, are very trouble-

some to those who are overruled and acted

by. an external law, and have no law in their

minds inclining them to the performance of

their duty. But where divine love possesseth

the soul, it stands as sentinel to keep out every

thing that may offend the beloved, and doth

disdainfully repulse those temptations which

assault it. It complieth cheerfulh^ 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 dehghtful things.
```
```
But I find this part of my letter swell bigger
```
```
than I desi^jned : indeed who would not be
```
```
tempted to dwell on so pleasant a theme? I
```
```
shall endeavor to compensate it by brevity in
```
```
the other points.
```
```
THE EXCELLE^XY OF CHARITY.
```
```
'T^HE next branch of the divine life is an
```
```
universal charity and love. The excel-
```
```
lency of this grace will be easily acknowl-
```
```
edged. For what can be more noble and
```
```
generous than a heart enlarged to embrace
```
```
the whole world, whose wishes and designs
```
```
are levelled at the good and welfare of the
```
```
universe, which considereth every man's inter-
```
```
est as its own? He who loveth his neighbor
```
```
as himself can never entertain any base or
```
```
injurious thought, or be wanting in expres-
```
```
sions of bounty : he had rather suffer a thou-
```
```
sand 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. Is it

any wonder that such a person be reverenced

and admired, and accounted the darling of

mankind? This inward goodness and benig-

nity of spirit reflects a certain sweetness and

serenity upon the very countenance, and

makes it amiable and lovely. It inspireth

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 admi-
```
```
ration, have for the most part been the effects
```
```
of the love of one's country, or of particular
```
```
friendships ; and certainly a more extensive
```
```
and universal affection must be much more
```
powerful and efficacious.

## THE PLEASURE THAT ATTENDS CHARITY.

```
A GAIN, as charity flows from a noble and
```
```
excellent temper, so it is accompanied
```
with the greatest satisfaction and pleasure.

It delights the soul to feel itself thus enlarged,

and to be delivered from those disquieting as

well as deformed passions, malice, hatred,

and envy ; and become gentle, sweet, and

benign. Had I m}^ choice of all things that

might tend to my present felicity, I would

pitch upon this, to have my heart possessed

with the greatest kindness and aflection to-

wards all men in the world. I am sure this

would make me partake in all the happiness

of others ; their inward endowments, and out-

ward prosperity : every thing that did benefit

```
in the Soul of Man. 57
```
```
and advantage them, would afford me com-
```
```
fort and pleasure. And though I should fre-
```
```
quenth^ meet with occasions of grief and
```
```
compassion, yet there is a sweetness in com-
```
```
miseration, which makes it infinitely more
```
```
desirable than a stupid insensibility : and the
```
```
consideration of that infinite goodness and
```
```
wisdom which governs the world, might re-
```
```
press any excessive trouble for particular
```
```
calamities that happen in it: and the hopes
```
```
or possibility of men's after-happiness, might
```
```
moderate their sorrow for their present mis-
```
```
fortunes. Certainly, next to the love and
```
```
enjoyment of God, that ardent charity and
```
```
affection wherewith blessed souls do 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

of the joys of heaven upon earth.

## THE EXCELLENCY OF PURITY.

'HPHAT which I named as a third branch

```
of rehgion, was purity : and you may
```
remember I described it to consist in a con-

tempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness

to undergo those troubles and pains we

may meet with in the performance of our

dut}^. Now, the naming of this may suffice

to recommend it as a most noble and excel-

lent quality. There is no slavery so base, as

that whereby a man becomes a drudge to his

own lusts ; nor any victory so glorious, as

that which is obtained over them. Never

```
can that person be capable of any thing that
```
is noble and worth}', who is sunk in the gross

```
and feculent pleasures of sense, or bewitched
```
```
with the light and 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 way of holiness, for the obtain-
```
```
ing any of these.
```
## THE DELIGHT AFFORDED BY PURITY.

```
A ND 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 violent and uneasy restraint, but

```
as the effect of better choice, that their minds
```
```
are taken up in the pursuit of more sublime
```
```
and refined delights, so that they cannot be
```
```
concerned in these. Any person that is en-
```
```
gaged in a violent and passionate affection,
```
```
will easily forget his ordinary gratifications,
```
```
will be little curious about his diet, or his
```
bodily ease, or the divertisements he was

wont to delic^ht 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 im-

pertinent to their main happiness, and those

```
higher enjoyments they are pursuing. As for
```
the hardships they meet with, they rejoice in

```
them, as opportunities to exercise and testify
```
```
their affection : and since they are able to do
```
```
so litde for God, they are glad of the honor to
```
```
suffer for him.
```
## THE EXCELLENCY OF HUMILITY.

## 'T^HE last branch of religion is Juimility

```
;
```
```
and however to vulgar and carnal eyes
```
```
this may appear an abject, base, and despica-
```
```
ble quality, yet really the soul of man is not
```
```
capable of a higher and more noble endow-
```
```
ment. 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 be-
```
```
cause of some pretty attainments. Noble and
```
```
well educated souls have no such high opinion
```
```
of riches, beauty, strength, and other such like
```
```
advantages, as to value themselves for them,
```
```
or despise those that want them : and as for
```
```
inward worth and real goodness, the sense they
```
```
have of the divine perfections makes them
```
```
think very meanlv of any thing they have
```
```
hitherto attained, and be still endeavorin<r to
```
```
surmount themselves, and make nearer ap-
```
```
proaches to those infinite excellencies which
```
they admire.

```
I know not what thoughts people may have
```
of humility, but I see almost every person pre-

tending 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, will be loath to

commend themselves. What are all those

compliments and modes of civility, so frequent

in our ordinary converse, but so many protes-

tations of the esteem of others, and the low

thoughts we have of ourselves ; and must not

that humility be a noble and excellent endow-

ment, when the very shadows of it are ac-

counted so necessary a part of good breeding?

## THE PLEASURE AND SWEETNESS OF AN

## HUMBLE TEMPER.

```
A GAIN, this grace, is accompanied with a
```
```
great deal of happiness and tranquilHty :
```
the proud and arrogant person is a trouble to

all that converse with him, but most of all unto

himself; every thing is enough to vex him ; but

but scarce any thing is sufficient to content and

please him. He is ready to quarrel with ever}-^

thing that falls out, as if he himself were such

a' considerable person, that God Almighty

should do every thing to gratify him, and all

the creatures of heaven and earth should wait

upon him, and obey his will. The leaves of

high trees do shake with every blast of wind :

and every breath, every evil word will disquiet

and torment an arrogant man : 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 therefore he is not

troubled at the matter, but can easily bear

those reproaches which wound the other to the

soul. And withal, as he is less aftected with

injuries, so indeed he is less obnoxious unto

them : contention, zuhich conieth offride, be-

trays a man into a thousand inconveniences,

```
which those of a meek and lowly temper sel-
```
dom meet with. True and genuine humility

begetteth both a veneration and love among all

w^ise and discerning persons ; while pride de-

feateth its own design, and depriveth a man of

that honor it makes him pretend to.

```
But as the chief exercises of humilitv are
```
those which relate unto Almighty God, so

these are accompanied with the greatest satis-

faction and sweetness. It is impossible to ex-

press the great pleasure and delight which

religious persons feel in the lowest prostration

of their souls before God, when, having a

deep sense of the divine majesty and glory,

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

acknowledgment of their own nothingness,

and the shortness and imperfections of their

attainments ; when they understand the full

sense and emphasis of the Psalmist's exclama-

tions, Lord, zuhat is man f and can utter it

```
with the same affection. Never did any
```
```
haughty and ambitious person receive the
```
```
praises and applauses of men with so much
```
```
pleasure, as the humble and religious do re-
```
nounce them : Not unto 21s, O Lord., not unto

```
us, but unto thy name, give glory, dec.
```
```
Thus have I spoken something of the ex-
```
```
cellencies and advantage of religion in its
```
several branches ; but should be very inju-

rious to the subject, did I pretend to have

given any perfect account of it. Let us ac-

quaint ourselves with it, my dear friend ; let

us acquaint ourselves with it, and experience

will teach us more than all that ever hath been

spoken or written concerning it. But 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.

f~^ OOD God! what a mighty feHcity is this

```
to which we are called! How graciousl}^
```
hast thou joined our duty and happiness to-

gether ; 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 e3xs

to thee? Wilt thou admit and accept our affec-

tion? 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 re-

joicing in them? Oh the happiness of those

souls that have broken the fetters of self-love,

```
and disentangled their affection from every
```
```
narrow and particular good ; whose under-
```
```
standings are enlightened by the Holy Spirit,
```
```
and their wills enlarged to the extent of thine ;
```
```
who love thee above all things, and all man-
```
```
kind for thy sake! I am persuaded, O God!
```
```
I am persuaded, that I can never be happ}',
```
```
till my carnal and corrupt affections be morti-
```
```
5
```
```
fied, and the pride and vanity of my spirit be
```
```
subdued, and till I come seriously to despise
```
```
the world, and think nothing of myself. But
```
```
oh when shall it once be! Oh when wilt thou
```
```
come unto me, and satisfy my soul with th}^
```
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 ni}- soul, and wilt thou

not also satisfy them? Oh teach me to do thy

will, for thou art ni}^ God ; th}^ spirit is good,

lead me into the land of uprightness. Quicken

me, O Lord, for thy name's sake, and perfect

that which concerneth me. Th}^ mercy, O

Lord, endureth for ever ; forsake not the work

of thine own hands.

## THE DESPONDENT THOUGHTS OF SOME NEW-

## LY AWAKENED TO A RIGHT SENSE OF

THINGS.

```
T HAVE hitherto considered wherein true re-
```
```
ligion doth consist, and how desirable a
```
```
thing it is. But wliQii one sees how infinitely
```
```
distant the common temper and frame of men
```
```
are from it, he may perhaps be ready to de-
```
```
spond and give over, and think it utterly im-
```
```
possible to be attained. He may sit down in
```
```
sadness, and bemoan himself, and say, in the
```
```
anguish and bitterness of his spirit, " They
```
```
are happy indeed w^hose souls are awakened
```
```
unto the divine life, who are thus renewed in
```
```
the spirit of their minds. But, alas! I am
```
```
quite of another constitution, and am not able
```
```
to effect so mighty a change. If outward ob-
```
```
servances could have done the business, I
```
```
might have hoped to acquit m3'self by diligence
```
```
and care : but since nothing but a new nature
```
```
can serve the turn, what am I able to do? I
```
```
could bestow all my goods in oblations to God,
```
or alms to the poor ; but cannot command that

love and charity, without which this expense

would profit me nothing. This gift of God

cannot be purchased with money. If a man

should give all the substance of his house for

love, it would utterly be contemned. I could

pine and macerate my body, and undergo

many hardships and troubles ; but I cannot

get all m}' corruptions starved, nor my atiec-

tions wholly weaned from earthly things : there

are still some worldly desires lurking in my

heart ; and those vanities that I have shut out

of the doors, are always getting in by the win-

```
dows. I am many times convinced of m}^ own
```
```
meanness, of the weakness of my body, and
```
```
the far greater weakness of my soul ; but this
```
```
doth rather beget indignation and discontent,
```
```
than true humility in my spirit : 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 highest and
```
```
most specious attainments, I have reason to
```
```
suspect, that they are all but the effects of na-
```
```
ture, the issues of self-love acting vmder several
```
```
disguises : and this principle is so powerful and
```
```
so deeply rooted in me, that I can never hope
```
```
to be delivered from the dominion of it. I may
```
```
toss and turn as a door on the hinges ; but can
```
```
never get clear off, or be quite unhinged of self,
```
```
which is still the centre of all my motions.
```
```
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 dis-

cerns the land, and envies the happiness of

those who are there, but thinks it impossible

for himself to get ashore."

## THE UNREASONABLENESS OF THESE FEARS.

^ I^HESE, I say, or such like desponding

```
thoutrhts, mav arise in the minds of
```
those persons w^ho begin to conceive some-

what more of the nature and excellency of

religion than before. .They have spied the

land, and seen that it is exceeding good ; that

it floweth with milk and honey; but they find

thev have the children of iVnak to grapple

with ; many powerful lusts and corruptions to

overcome, and they fear they shall never pre-

vail 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, my dear

friend, 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 otir refuge^ and itnderneath are the
```
```
everlasting arms. Let 21s be strong in the
```
Lord, and tn the -power of his might; for

he it is that shall tread dozvn our enemies.

```
God hath a tender regard unto the souls of
```
```
men, and is infinitely willing to promote their
```
welfare. He hath condescended to our weak-

ness, and declared with an oath, that he hath

no pleasure in our destruction. There is no

such thing as despite -or envy lodged 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, hath committed the care of

our souls to no meaner 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 the sons of men, that

```
he might recover and propagate the divine
```
life, and restore the image of God in their

souls? All the mighty works which he per-

formed ; all the sad afflictions which he sus-

tained, had this for their scope and design;

for this did he labor and toil ; for this did he

bleed and die : I/at/i he wrought no deliver-

ance in the earth f Shall he not see the travail

ofhis soul? Certainly it is impossible that this

great contrivance of heaven should prove abor-

tive, that such a mighty undertaking should fail

and miscarry. It hath already been effectual

for the salvation of many thousands, who were

once as far from the kingdom of heaven as

we can suppose ourselves to be : and our High

Priest contimieth for ever^ and is able to save

them to the 2itterniost that come unto God by

him. He is tender and compassionate; he

knoweth our infirmities, and had experience

of our temptations : A bruised reed will he

not breaks and smoking fax zvill he not

qztench^ till he send forth judgment unto vic-

tory. He hath sent out his Holy Spirit,

whose sweet, but powerful breathings are still

moving up and do^vn in the world, to quicken

and revive the souls of men, and awaken

them unto the sense and feeling of those di-

vine things for which they were made : and

is ready to assist such weak and languishing

creatures as we are, in our essays towards

holiness and felicity ; and when once it hath

taken hold of a soul, and kindled in it the

smallest spark of divine love, it will be sure

to preserve and cherish, and bring it forth

into a flame, which many waters shall not

quench, neither shall the floods be able to

drown it. Whenever this day begins to dawn,

```
and the day-star to arise in the hearty it will
```
easily dispel the powers of darkness, and make

ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and

selfish affections of men, flee away as fast be-

fore it as the shades of night when the sun

Cometh out of his chambers : for the -path

of the just is as the shining lights which

shineth more and more tmto the -perfect day.

```
They shall go on from stre^igth to strength,
```
till every one of them appear before God in

Zion

.

```
Why should we think it impossible, that true
```
```
goodness and universal love should ever com.e
```
```
m the Soul of Man. 73
```
to sway and prevail in our souls? Is not this

their primitive state and condition ; their native

and genuine constitution as they came first from

the hands of their Maker? Sin and corruption

are but usurpers ; and though they have long

kept the possession, y^\. froui the beginning- it

was not so. That inordinate self-love which

one would think were rooted in our very being,

and interwoven with the constitution of our na-

ture, 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 con-

demn it. Our understandings are easily

convinced, that we ougrht to be whollv 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 dis-

ordered and put out of tune. x\nd is not he

w4io made our souls, able to rectify and mend

them again? Shall we not be able, by his as-

sistance, to vanquish and expel those violent

intruders, and turn toflight the amnies of the

aliens f

```
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

party. The holy church throughout the world

is daily interceding with God for the success of

all such endeavors. And doubtless those heav-

enly hosts above are nearly concerned in the

interests of religion, and infinitely desirous to

see the divine life thriving and prevailing in

this inferior world ; and that the will of God

may be done by us on earth, as it is done by

themselves in heaven. And may we not then

encourage ourselves, as the prophet did his

servant, when he showed him the horses and

chariots of fire, Fear not^for they that be with

us, are more than they that be against ns.

\VE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN, AND DEPEND

## ON THE DIVINE ASSISTANCE

```
\ WAY then with all perplexing fears and
```
```
desponding thoughts. To undertake vig-
```
orously, and rely confidently on the divine as-

sistance, is more than half the conquest. Let

us arise, and be doing, and the Lord will be

with lis. It is true, religion in the souls of men

is the immediate work of God ; and all our

natural endeavors 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 must

overshadow us, before that holy thing can be

begotten, and Christ be formed in us. But yet

we must not expect that this whole work should

be done without any concurring endeavors of

our own : we must not lie loitering in the ditch,

and wait till Omnipotence pull us from thence.

No, no : we must bestir ourselves, and actuate

those powers which we have already received :

w^e must put forth ourselves to our utmost ca-

pacities, and then we may hope that our labor

shall not he in vain in the Lord. 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 in-

fluences of heaven, which produce this effect;

it is God who causes the grass to grow, and

herb for the service of man : and yet nobody

will say, that the labors of the husbandman are

useless or unnecessary. So likewise the hu-

```
76 The Ltfe of God
```
```
man 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 man-
```
```
kind. Though there must intervene a stroke
```
```
of Omnipotence to effect this mighty change in
```
```
our souls, yet ought we to do what we can to
```
```
fit and prepare ourselves. For we must break
```
```
up our fallow ground, and root out the weeds,
```
```
and pull up the thorns, that so 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 souijht him not ; he hath

```
cast himself in their way, who were quite out
```
of his ; he hath laid hold upon them, and

stopped their course of a sudden : for so was

St. Paul converted in his journey to Damascus.

But certainly this is not God's ordinary method

of dealino^ 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 rea-

son to expect the divine assistance, than when

we are doino- our utmost endeavors. It shall

therefore be my next work, to show what

course we ought to take for attaining that

blessed temper I have hitherto described. But

here, if, in delivering my own thoughts, I shall

chance to differ from what is or may be said

by others in this matter, I would not be thought

to contradict and oppose them, more than phy-

```
sicians do, when the}' prescribe several reme-
```
dies for the same disease, which perhaps are

```
all useful and good. Every one may propose
```
the method he judges most proper and con-

venient ; but he doth not thereby pretend that

```
the cure can never be effected, unless that be
```
```
exactly observed. I doubt it hath occasioned
```
```
much unnecessary disquietude to some holy
```
```
persons, that they have not found such a regular
```
```
and orderly transaction in their souls, as they
```
```
have seen described in books : that they have
```
```
not passed through all those steps and stages
```
```
of conversion, which some (who perhaps have
```
```
felt them in themselves) have too peremptorily
```
```
prescribed unto others. God hath several
```
```
ways of dealing with the souls of men : and
```
```
it sufficeth if the work be accomplished, what-
```
```
ever the methods have been.
```
```
Again, though, in proposing directions, I
```
```
must follow that order w^hich the nature of
```
things shall lead to ; yet I do not mean that the

```
same method should be so punctually observed
```
in the practice, as if the latter rules were never

to be heeded, till some considerable time have

been spent in practising the former. The di-

rections I intend are mutually conducive one to

another ; and are all to be performed as occa-

sion shall serve, and we find ourselves enabled

to perform them.

## WE MUST SHUN ALL MANNER OF SIN.

```
"DUT now, that I may detain you no longer,
```
"^ if we desire to have our souls moulded to

this holy frame, to become partakers of the di-

vine nature, and have Christ formed in our

hearts, we must seriously resolve, and care-

fully endeavor to avoid and abandon all vicious

and sinful practices. There can be no treaty

of peace, till once we lay down these weapons

ofrebellion wherewith we fight against Heaven :

nor can we expect to have our distempers

cured, if we be daily feeding on poison. Ev-

ery wilful sin gives a mortal wound to the soul.

and puts it at a greater distance from God and

goodness : and we can never hope to have our

hearts purified from corrupt affections, unless

we cleanse our hands from vicious actions.

Now, in this case, we cannot excuse ourselves

by the pretence of impossibility ; for sure our

outward man is some way in our power; we

have some command of our feet, and hands,

and tongue, nay, and of our thoughts and fan-

cies too ; at least so far as to divert them from

impure and sinful objects, and to turn our mind

another way : and we should find this power

and authority much strengthened and advanced,

if we were careful to manage and exercise it.

In the mean while, I acknowledge our corrup-

tions are so strong, and our temptations so

many, that it will require a great deal of stead-

fastness and resolution, of watchfulness and

care, to preserve ourselves, even in this degree

of innocence and purity.

WE MUST KNOW WHAT THINGS ARE SINFUL.

```
\ ND, first, let us inform ourselves well, what
```
```
those sins are from which we ought to
```
abstain. And here we must not take our meas-

ures from the maxims of the world, or the

practices of those whom in charity we account

good men. Most people have very light appre-

```
hensions of these things, and are not sensible
```
```
of any fault, unless it be gross and flagitious
```
```
;
```
```
and scarce reckon any so great as that which
```
```
they call preciseness : and those who are more
```
```
serious, do many times allow themselves too
```
```
great latitude and freedom. Alas! how much
```
```
pride and vanity, and passion and humor: how
```
```
much weakness, folly, and sin, doth every day
```
```
show itself in their converse and behavior. It
```
```
may be they are humbled for it, and striving
```
```
against it, and are daily gaining some ground
```
```
;
```
```
but then the progress is so small, and their
```
```
failings so many, that we have need to choose
```
```
an exacter pattern. Every one of us must
```
```
answer for himself, and the practices of others
```
```
will never warrant and secure us. It is the
```
```
171 the Soul of Alan. 8i
```
```
highest folly to regulate our actions by any
```
other standard than that by which they must be

judged. If ever we would cleanse our ivay^ it

```
must be by taking heed thereunto according- to
```
```
the word of God, 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, and is a discerner of the thoughts
```
```
and intents ofthe heart, will certainly discover
```
```
many things to be sinful and heinous, 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 paths
```
```
of the destroyer. Let us acquaint ourselves
```
```
with the strict and 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,
```
```
W'here an ingenuous and unbiassed mind may
```
```
clearly discern those limits and 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

```
6
```
smallest is infinitely heinous in the sight of

God, and prejudicial to the souls of men ; and

that, if we had a right sense of things, we

should be as deeply affected with the least ir-

regularities, as now we are with the highest

crimes.

WE MUST RESIST THE TEMPTATIONS OF SIN,

## BY CONSIDERING THE EVILS THEY WILL

## DRAW ON US.

## 13 UT now, amongst those things which we

```
discover to be sinful, there will be some,
```
unto which, through the disposition of our na-

ture, or long custom, or the endearments of

```
pleasure, we are so much wedded, that it will
```
```
be like cutting off the right hand, or pulling
```
```
out the right eye, to abandon them. But must
```
```
we therefore sit down and wait till all difficul-
```
```
ties are 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
```
```
waters should run by. We must not indulge
```
```
our inclinations, as we do little children, till
```
```
they grow weary of the thing they are unwill-
```
ing to let go ; we must not continue our sinful

practices, in hopes that the divine grace will

one day overpower our spirits, and make us

hate them for their own deformity.

```
Let us suppose the worst, that we are utterly
```
destitute of any supernatural principle, and

want that taste by which we should discern and

abhor perverse things : yet sure we are capa-

ble of some considerations which may be of

force to persuade us to this reformation of our

lives. If the inward deformity and heinous

```
nature of sin cannot affect us, at least we may
```
be frighted by those dreadful consequences that

```
attend it : that same selfish principle which
```
```
pusheth us forward unto the pursuit of sinful
```
```
pleasures, will make us loath to buy them at the
```
```
rate of everlasting misery. Thus we may en-
```
```
counter self-love with its own weapons, and
```
```
employ one natural inclination for repressing
```
```
the exorbitances of another. Let us therefore
```
```
accustom ourselves to consider seriously, what
```
```
a fearful thing it must needs be to irritate and
```
```
offend that infinite Being, on whom we hang
```
```
and depend every moment ; who needs but to
```
```
withdraw his mercies to make us miserable, or
```
[^84]: The Life of God

his assistance to make us nothing. Let us fre-

quenth' remember the shortness and uncer-

tainty of our lives, and how that, after we have

taken a few turns more in the world, and con-

versed a little longer amongst men, we must

all go down into the dark and silent grave, and

cany nothing along with us but anguish and

regret for all our sinful enjoyments ; and then

think what horror must needs seize the guilty

```
soul, to find itself naked and all alone before
```
```
the severe and impartial judge of the world, to
```
```
render an exact account, not only of its more
```
```
important and considerable transactions, but of
```
```
every word that the tongue hath uttered, and
```
```
the swittest and most secret thous^ht that ever
```
```
passed through the mind. Let us sometimes rep-
```
```
resent unto ourselves the terrors of that dread-
```
```
ful day, when the foundations of the earth shall
```
```
be shaken, and the heavens shall pass away
```
```
with a great noise, and the elements shall melt
```
```
with fervent heat, and the present frame of na-
```
```
ture be dissolved, and our eyes shall see 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, and persisted in rebeUion against him :
```
```
when all the hidden things of darkness shall
```
```
be brought to light, and the counsels of the
```
```
heart shall be made manifest : when those
```
```
secret impurities and subtle frauds whereof
```
```
the world did never suspect us, shall be ex-
```
```
posed and laid open to public view, and manv
```
```
thousand actions w^hich we never dreamed to
```
```
be sinful, or else had altogether forgotten,
```
```
shall be charged home to our consciences,
```
```
with such evident convictions of guilt, that we
```
```
shall neither be able to deny nor excuse them.
```
Then shall 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 perhaps did

love and esteem them when they lived in the

world, shall look upon them with indignation

and abhorrence, and never make one request

for their deliverance. Let us consider the

future punishment of evil doers, shadowed

forth in scripture by metaphors taken from

those things that are most terrible and griev-

ous in the world, and yet all do not suffice

to convey unto our minds any full appre-

hensions of them. When we have joined

together the importance of all these expres-

```
sions, and added unto them whatever our
```
fancy can conceive of misery and torment,

```
we must still remember, that all this comes
```
```
infinitely short of the truth and reality of the
```
```
thincj.
```
```
It is true, this is a sad and melancholy sub-
```
ject ; there is anguish and horror in the con-

```
sideration of it ; but sure it must be infinitely
```
```
more dreadful to endure it : and such thoughts
```
```
as these may be very useful to fright us from
```
the courses that would lead us thither ; how

```
fond soever we may be of sinful pleasures, the
```
fear of hell would make us abstain : our most

```
forward inclinations will startle and give back,
```
when pressed with that question in the prophet.

```
Who among us can dzvcll with everlasting
```
hitrnings?

```
To this verv purpose it is, that the terrors
```
of another world are so frequenth^ represented

in holv writ, and that in such terms as are

```
most proper to affect and influence a carnal
```
```
mind : these fears can never suffice to make
```
```
any person truly good, but certainly they may
```
```
restrain us from much evil, and have often
```
```
made way for more ingenuous and kindly
```
```
impressions.
```
## WE MUST KEEP A CONSTANT WATCH OVER

OURSELVES.

```
"DUT it will not suffice to consider these
```
```
things once and again, nor to form some
```
```
resolutions of abandoning our sins, unless we
```
```
maintain a constant guard, and be continually
```
```
watching against them. Sometimes the mind
```
is awakened to see the dismal consequences

of a vicious life, and straight we are resolved

to reform : but, alas! it presently falleth

asleep, and we lose that prospect which we

had of things, and then temptations take the

advantage ; they solicit and importune us con-

tinually, and so do frequently engage our

consent before we are aware. It is the folly

and ruin of most people to live at adventure,

and take part in every thing that comes in

their way, 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, and set a watch before the

door of our lips, and examine the motions

that arise in our hearts, and cause them to tell

us whence they come, and whither they go ;

whether it be pride or passion, or any cor-

rupt and vicious humor, that prompteth us to

anv design ; and whether God will be offended,

or anybody harmed by it. And if we have

no time for long reasonings, let us at least

turn our eyes toward God, and place ourselves

in his presence, to ask his leave and approba-

tion for what we do : let us consider ourselves

under the all-seeing eye of that divine Maj-

```
estv, as in the midst of an infinite globe of
```
```
light, which compasseth us about both behind
```
```
and before, and pierceth to the innermost
```
```
corners of our soul. The sense and remem-
```
```
brance of the divine presence is the most
```
```
ready and effectual means, both to discover
```
```
what is unlawful, and to restrain us from it.
```
```
There are some things a person could make
```
```
shift to palliate or defend, and yet he dares
```
```
not look almighty God in the face, and adven-
```
```
ture upon them. If we look unto him, we;
```
```
shall be lightened ; if we set him always be-
```
fo7'e us, he will guide us by his eye, and in-

```
struct us in the zvay wherein we ought to
```
```
walk.
```
```
^VE MUST OFTEN EXAMINE OUR ACTIONS.
```
```
^ I ^HIS care and watchfulness over our ac-
```
```
tions, must be seconded by frequent and
```
```
serious reflections upon them, not only that
```
```
we may obtain the divine mercy and pardon
```
```
for our sins, by an humble and sorrowful
```
```
acknowledgment of them ; but also that we
```
```
may re-enforce and strengthen our resolutions,
```
```
and learn to decline or resist the temptations
```
```
by which we have been formerly foiled. It is
```
```
an advice worthy of a Christian, though it did
```
```
first drop from a heathen pen, "That before
```
```
we betake ourselves to rest, we renew and
```
```
examine all the passages of the day, that we
```
```
mav have the comfort of what we have done
```
```
aright, and may redress what we find to have
```
```
been amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one
```
```
day be as marks to direct our course in an-
```
```
other." This may be called the very art of
```
```
virtuous living, and would contribute w^onder-
```
```
fully to advance our reformation, and preserve
```
```
our innocency. But, withal, we must not for-
```
```
get to implore the divine assistance, especially
```
```
against those sins that do most easily beset us :
```
```
and though it be supposed that our hearts are
```
```
not yet moulded into that spiritual frame which
```
```
should render our devotions acceptable, yet,
```
```
methinks, such considerations as have been
```
proposed to deter us from sin, may also stir

us up to some natural 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, w^ho 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.

```
Besides, that those prayers against sin, wdll
```
be powerful engagements on ourselves to ex-

```
cite us to watchfulness and care ; and common
```
ingenuity will make us ashamed to relapse into

```
those faults, which we have lately bewailed be-
```
```
fore God, and against w^hich we have begged
```
```
his assistance.
```
```
IT IS FIT TO RESTRAIN OURSELVES IN MANY
```
```
LAWFUL THINGS.
```
```
'T^HUS are we to make the first essay for
```
```
recovering the divine life, by restraining
```
the natural inclinations, that they break not

```
out into sinful practices : but now I must add,
```
```
that Christian prudence will teach us to ab-
```
```
stain from gratifications that are not simply
```
unlawful, and that not only that we may se-

```
cure our innocence, w^hich would be in con-
```
tinual hazard if we should strain our liberty

to the utmost point; but also, that hereby we

may weaken the forces of nature, and teach

our appetites to obe}'. We must do with our-

selves as prudent parents with their children,

who cross their w^ills in many little indifferent

things, to make them manageable and submis-

sive in more considerable instances. He who

would mortify the pride and vanity of his

spirit, should stop his ears to the most de-

served praises : and sometimes forbear his just

vindication from the censures and aspersions of

others, especially if they reflect only upon his

prudence and conduct, and not on his ^•irtue

and innocence. He who would check a re-

vengeful humor, would do well to deny him-

self the satisfaction of representing unto others

the injuries which he hath sustained ; and if

we would so take heed to our ways, that we

sin not with our tongue, we must accustom

ourselves much to solitude and silence, and

sometimes, with the Psalmist, Hold our -peace

even from good, till once we have gotten some

```
command over that unruly member. Thus, I
```
sav, we may bind up our natural inclinations,

```
and make our appetites more moderate in their
```
```
cravings, bv accustoming them to frequent re-
```
fusals : but it is not enough to have them

under violence and restraint.

WE MUST STRIVE TO PUT OURSELVES OUT OF

```
LOVE WITH THE WORLD.
```
/^UR next essay must be to wean our atlec-

```
tions from created things, and all the
```
delights and entertainments of the lower life,

which sink and depress the souls of men, and

retard their motions towards God and heaven

```
;
```
and this we must do by possessing our minds

with a deep persuasion of the vanity and

emptiness of worldly enjo3'ments. This is an

ordinary theme, and everybody can make

declamations upon it : but. alas I how few un-

derstand and believe what they say! These

notions float in our brains, and come sliding

off our tongues, but we have no deep impres-

sion 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 and enjoyments of the world, are

vanity and nothing ; and yet these nothings

take up all our thoughts, and engross all our

```
affections ; they stifle the better inclinations of
```
our soul, and inveigle us into many a sin. It

may be, in a sober mood, we give them the

slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded

```
with them ; but these thoughts seldom outlive
```
the next temptation ; the vanities which we

```
have shut out at the door get in at a postern :
```
there are still some pretensions, some hopes

```
that flatter us : and after we have been frus-
```
```
trated a thousand times, we must be continu-
```
```
ally repeating the experiment : the least dif-
```
```
ference of circumstances is enough to delude
```
.us, and make us expect that satisfaction in

```
one thing which w^e have missed in another :
```
```
but could we once get clearly off, and come
```
```
to a real and serious contempt of worldly
```
```
things, this were a very considerable advance-
```
```
ment in our way. The soul of man is of a
```
```
vigorous and active nature, and hath in it a
```
```
raging and inextinguishable thirst, an imma-
```
```
terial 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, and all the bewitching enjoy-
```
```
ments under the sun, it would quickly search
```
```
after some higher and more excellent object,
```
```
to satisfy its ardent and importunate cravings
```
```
;
```
```
and being no longer dazzled with glittering
```
vanities, would fix on that supreme and all-

sufficient Good, where it would discover such

beauty and sweetness, as would charm and

overpower all its affections. 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 : when our natural inclinations prosper,

```
and the creature is exalted in our soul, religion
```
is faint, and doth languish : but when earthly

objects wither away and lose their beauty, and

the soul begins to cool and flag in its prosecu-

tion of them, then the seeds of grace take root,

```
and the divine life begins to flourish and pre-
```
```
vail. It doth, therefore, nearh' concern us,
```
```
to convince ourselves of the emptiness and
```
```
vanity of creature-enjoyments, and reason our
```
```
hearts out of love with them : let us seriously
```
```
consider all that our reason, or our faith, our
```
```
own experience, or the observation of others,
```
```
can suggest to this effect ; let us ponder the
```
```
matter over and over, and fix our thoughts on
```
```
this truth, till we become really persuaded of
```
```
it. Amidst all our pursuits and designs, let
```
```
us stop and ask ourselves, For w^hat end is all
```
```
this? at what do I aim? can the gross and
```
muddy pleasures of sense, or a heap of white

and yellow earth, or the esteem and affection

of silly creatures like m3'self, satisfy a rational

and immortal soul? Have I not tried these

things already? will they have a higher rel-

ish, and yield me more contentment to-morrovv^

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 show as pleasant, and

promised as fair, before I attained them : like

the rainbow, they looked very glorious at a

distance ; but when I approached, I found noth-

ing but emptiness and vapor. Oh what a poor

thing would the life of man be, if it were capa-

ble of no higher enjoyments I

```
I cannot insist on this subject : and there
```
```
is the less need, when I remember to whom I
```
```
am writing. Yes, my dear friend, you have
```
```
had as great experience of the emptiness and
```
```
vanity of human things, and have at present as
```
```
few worldly engagements as any that I know.
```
```
I have sometimes reflected on those passages
```
```
of your life wherewith you have been pleased
```
to acquaint me; and methinks, through all,

I can discern a design of the divine Providence

to wean your affections from every thing here

below. The trials 3'ou have had of those

things which the world doats upon, have taught

you to despise them ; and you have found by

experience, that neither the endowments of na-

ture, nor the advantages of fortune, are suffi-

```
cient for happiness ; that every rose hath its
```
```
thorn, and there may be a worm at the root of
```
```
the fairest gourd ; some secret and undiscerned
```
```
grief, which may make a person deserve the
```
```
pity of those who perhaps do admire or envy
```
```
their supposed felicity. If any earthly com-
```
```
forts have got too much of your heart, I think
```
```
they have been your relations and friends ; and
```
```
the dearest of these are removed out of the
```
```
world, so that you must raise your mind to-
```
```
wards heaven, when you would think upon
```
```
them. Thus God hath provided that your
```
```
heart may be loosed from the world, and that
```
```
he may not have any rival in your affection,
```
```
which I have always observed to be so large
```
```
and unbounded, so noble and disinterested,
```
```
that 110 inferior object can answer or deserve it.
```
```
7
```
## WE MUST DO THOSE OUTWARD ACTIONS THAT

## ARE COMMANDED.

"^^7HEN we have got our corruptions re-

```
strained, and our natural appetites and
```
inclinations towards worldly things in some

measure subdued, we must proceed to such ex-

ercises as have a more immediate tendency to

excite and awaken the divine life : and, first,

let us endeavor conscientiously to perform those

duties which religion doth require, and where-

unto it would incline us, if it did prevail in our

souls. If we cannot get our inward disposition

presently changed, let us study at least to regu-

late our outward deportment : if our hearts be

not vet inflamed with divine love, let us, how-

ever, own our allegiance to that infinite Maj-

esty, 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 char-

ity, and those bowels of compassion which we

ought to have towards our neighbors, 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 de-
```
```
portment. These external performances are of
```
```
little value in themselves, yet they may help us
```
```
forward to better things. The apostle indeed
```
tells us, that bodily exercise frojiteth little; but

```
he seems not to affirm that it is altogether use-
```
less : it is always good to be doing what we

can, for then God is wont to pity our weakness,

and assist our feeble endeavors ; and when true

charity and humility, and other graces of the

divine Spirit, come to take root in our souls,

they will exert themselves more freely, and

with less difficulty, if we have before been

accustomed to express them in our outward con-

versations. Nor need we fear the imputation

of hypocrisy, though our actions do thus some-

what outrun our affections, seeing they do 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.

793478A

## WE MUST ENDEAVOR TO FORM INTERNAL

## ACTS OF DEVOTION, CHARITY, &c.

T3UT as inward acts have a more immediate

```
influence on the soul, to mould it to a
```
right temper and frame, so ought we to be most

frequent and sedulous in the exercise of them.

Let us be often lifting up our hearts toward

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 happi-

ness so to do ; let us lament the dishonor done

unto him by foolish and sinful men, and ap-

plaud the praises and adorations that are given

him by that blessed and glorious company

above : let us resign and yield ourselves up

unto him a thousand times, to be governed by

his laws, and disposed of at his pleasure. And

though our stubborn hearts should start back

and refuse ; yet let us tell him we are con-

vinced that his will is always just and good

```
;
```
and therefore desire him to do with us whatso-

ever he pleaseth, whether we will or not. And

so, for begetting in us an universal charity to-

wards men, we must be frequently putting up

wishes for their happiness, and blessing every

person that we see ; and when we have done

```
any thing for the relief of the miserable, we
```
may second it with earnest desires that God

would take care of them, and deliver them out

of all their distresses.

```
Thus should we exercise ourselves unto god-
```
liness. And when we are employing the pow-

ers that we have, the Spirit of God is wont to

strike in, and elevate these acts of our soul

be3'ond the pitch of nature, and give them a

divine impression : and, after the frequent reit-

eration of these, we shall find ourselves more

inclined unto them, they flowing with greater

freedom and ease.

```
CONSIDERATION A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF
```
```
RELIGION.
```
T SHALL mention but two other means for

```
begetting that holy and divine temper of
```
spirit which is the subject of the present dis-

course. And the first is, a deep and serious

```
consideration of the truths of our reHgion, and
```
```
that both as to the certainty and importance of
```
```
them. The assent which is ordinarily given to
```
```
divine truths, is very faint and languid ; very
```
```
weak and ineffectual ; flowing only from a
```
```
blind inclination to follow that religion which is
```
```
in fashion, or a lazy indifference and uncon-
```
```
cernedness whether things be so or not. Men
```
```
are unwilling to quarrel with the religion of
```
```
their country, and since all their neighbors are
```
```
Christians, the}^ are content to be so too ; but
```
```
they are seldom at the pains to consider the
```
```
evidences of those truths, or to ponder the im-
```
```
portance and tendency of them ; and thence it
```
```
is that they have so little influence on their
```
```
affections and practice. Those spiritless and
```
paralytic thoughts (as one doth rightly term

```
them) are not able to move the will and direct
```
```
the hand : we must therefore endeavor to work
```
```
up our minds to a serious belief and full per-
```
```
suasion of divine truths, unto a sense and feel-
```
```
ing of spiritual things. Our thoughts must
```
```
dwell upon them, till we are both convinced of
```
```
them, and deeply affected with them. Let us
```
```
urge forward our spirits, and make them ap-
```
proach the invisible world ; and fix our minds

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 towards

that omnipotent wisdom and goodness which

did at first produce, and doth still establish and

uphold the same. When we reflect upon our-

selves, 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 sub-

```
sist without the body, as well as that can do
```
without the clothes which we throw oft' at our

```
pleasure. Let us often withdraw our thoughts
```
```
from this earth, this scene of misery, folly, and
```
```
sin, and raise them towards that more vast and
```
```
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 amono-o

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 ofthe

Majesty on high; and yet is not the less mind-

ful of us, but receiveth our prayers, and pre-

senteth them unto his Father ; and is daily

visiting his church with the influences of his

Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams.

## TO BEGET DIVINE LOVE, WE MUST CONSIDER

## THE EXCELLENCY OF THE DIVINE NATURE.

## 'HPHE serious and frequent consideration of

```
these, and such other divine truths, is the
```
most proper method to beget that lively faith

which is the foundation of religion, the spring

```
and root of the divine life. Let me further
```
```
suggest some particular subjects of meditation
```
```
for producing the several branches of it. And,
```
```
first, to inflame our souls with the love of God,
```
```
let us consider the excellency of his nature,
```
```
and his love and kindness towards us. It is
```
```
little we know of the divine perfection, and yet
```
```
that litde may suffice to fill our souls with
```
```
admiration and love ; to ravish our affections as
```
```
well as to raise our wonder : for we are not
```
```
merely creatures of sense, that we should be
```
```
incapable of any other affection but that which
```
```
entereth by the eyes. The character of any
```
```
excellent person whom we have never seen,
```
```
will many times engage our hearts, and make
```
```
us hugely concerned in all his interests. And
```
```
what is it, I pra}^ you, that engages us so much
```
```
to those with whom we converse? I cannot
```
```
think that it is merely the color of their face, or
```
```
their comely proportions ; for then wx should
```
fall in love with statues and pictures and flow-

```
ers. These outward accomplishments may a
```
little delight the eye, but would never be able

to prevail so much on the heart, if they did not

represent some vital perfecdon. We either see

or apprehend some greatness of mind, or vigor

of spirit, or sweetness of disposition ; some

sprightliness, or wisdom, or goodness, which

charm our spirit, and command om* love. Now

these perfections are not obvious to the sight,

the eyes can only discern the signs and effects

of them ; and if it be the understanding that

directs the affection, and vital perfections pre-

vail with it, certainly the excellencies of the

divine nature (the traces whereof we cannot

but discover in every thing we behold) would

not fail to engage our hearts, if we did seriously

view and regard them. Shall we not be inli-

nitel}' more transported with that almighty wis-

dom and goodness which fills the universe, and

displays itself in all the parts of 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 im-
```
```
perfect 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?
```
```
Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the
```
```
object, as if God were at too great a distance
```
```
for our converse or our love : He is not far
```
from every one ofus; for in him we live^ and

```
move, and have our being. 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 fellowship and
```
```
communion with us. Let us therefore en-
```
```
deavor to raise our minds to the clearest con-
```
```
ceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider
```
```
all that his works do declare, or his word doth
```
```
discover 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 ofhis glory, and the ex-
```
fress image oj"his person; and who appeared

```
in the world to discover at once what God is,
```
```
and what w^e ought to be. Let us represent
```
```
him unto our minds as w^e find him described
```
```
in the gospel ; and there we shall behold the
```
```
perfections of the divine nature, though cov-
```
```
ered with the veil of human infirmities ; and
```
```
when w^e have framed unto ourselves the clear-
```
```
est notion that we can of a Being, infinite in
```
```
powder, in wisdom, and goodness ; the author
```
```
and fountain of all perfections, let us fix the
```
```
eyes of our soul upon it, that our eyes may
```
```
affect our heart, and while we are musing, the
```
```
fire w'ill burn.
```
## WE SHOULD MEDITATE ON GOD'S GOODNESS

## AND LOVE.

```
"PSPECIALLY, if hereunto we add the con-
```
```
sideration of God's favor and good-will
```
```
towards us ; nothing is more powerful to en-
```
```
gage our affection, than to find that we are
```
```
beloved. Expressions of kindness are always
```
```
pleasing and acceptable unto us, though the
```
person should be otherwise mean and con-

temptible ; but to have the love of one who

is altogether lovely, to know that the glorious

Majesty of heaven hath any regard unto us,

how must it astonish and delight us I how must

it overcome our spirits, and melt our hearts,

and put our whole soul into a flame! Now as

the word of God is full of the expressions of

his love towards man, so all his works do

loudlv proclaim it ; he gave us our being, and

b}' preserving us in it, doth renew the donation

every moment. He hath placed us in a rich

and well-furnished world, and liberall}^ pro-

vided for all our necessities : he raineth down

blessings from heaven upon us, and causeth

the earth to bring forth our provision ; he giv-

eth us our food and raiment, and while we are

spending the productions of one year, he is

preparing for us against another. He sweet-

```
eneth 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 did
```
```
clothe himself with the infirmities of our flesh,
```
```
and left the company of those innocent and
```
blessed spirits, w^ho knew well how to love and

adore him, that he might dwell among men,

and wrestle with the obstinacy of that rebel-

lious race, to reduce them to their allegiance and

fidelity, and then to offer himself up as a sacri-

fice and propitiation for them. I remember one

of the poets hath an ingenious fancy to express

the passion w^herewith he found himself over-

come 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 him-

self straight into his breast." Methinks this

doth some w^ay adumbrate God's method of

dealing with men : he had long contended with

a stubborn world, and thrown do^^'n many a

blessing upon them ; and when all his other

gifts could not prevail, he at last made a gift

of himself, to testify his affection and engage

theirs. The account which we have of our

Saviour's life in the gospel, doth all along pre-

sent us with the story of his love ; all the pains

that he took, and the troubles that he endured,

w^ere the wonderful effects, and uncontrollable

evidences of it. But oh, that last, that dismal

scene! Is it possible to remember it, and ques-

tion his kindness, or deny him ours? Here,

here it is, my dear friend, that we should fix

our most serious and solemn 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

breadth and length and depth and height ; the

and to know the love of Christ, which passeth

knowledge, that we may be filled with all the

fulness of God.

```
We ought also frequently to reflect on those
```
particular tokens of favor and love, which God

hath bestowed on ourselves ; how long he hath

borne with our follies and sins, and waited to

be graciaus 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 bless-

ings 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

favor, and the signal returns of our prayers.

Nor ought we to imbitter the thoughts of these

things with any harsh or unworthy suspicion,

as if they were designed on purpose to enhance

our guilt, and heighten our eternal damnation.

No, no, m}^ friend, God is love, and he hath no

pleasure in the ruin of his creatures ; if they

abuse his goodness, and turn his grace into

wantonness, and thereby plunge themselves

into greater depths of guilt and misery, this is

the effect of their obstinate wickedness, and

not the design of those benefits which he be-

```
stows.
```
```
If these considerations had once begotten in
```
our hearts a real love and affection towards

Almighty God, that would easily lead us unto

the other branches of religion, and therefore I

shall need say the less of them.

```
TO BEGET CHARITY WE MUST REMEMBER
```
## THAT ALL MEN ARE NEARLY RELATED

## UNTO GOD.

"XT 7"E shall find our hearts enlarged in charity

```
towards men, by considering the rela-
```
tion wherein they stand unto God, and the im-

presses 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 dear and tender regard ; having laid the

design of their happiness before the foundations

of the world, and being willing to live and con-

verse with them to all the ages of 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 might behave himself of

that relation, so long as God hath not abdicated

```
and disowned him by a final sentence, he will
```
```
have us to acknowledge him as one of his, and
```
```
as such to embrace him with a sincere and cor-
```
```
dial affection. You know what a great con-
```
```
8
```
cernment we are wont to have for those that do

anywise belong to the person whom we love

```
;
```
how gladly 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

unto him than all the material world : and that

he did not account the blood of his son too

great a price lor their redemption.

## THAT THEY CARRY GOD'S IMAGE UPON THEM.

```
A GAIN, as all men stand in a near relation
```
```
to God, so they have still so much of his
```
image stamped upon them, as may oblige and

excite us to love them ; in some this image is

more eminent and conspicuous, and we can

discern the lovely traces of wisdom and good-

ness ; and though in others it is miserably sul-

lied and defaced, yet it is not altogether erased,

some lineaments at least do still remain. All

men are endued with rational and immortal

souls, with understandings and wills capable of

the highest and 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 in reason

to extinguish our love. When we see a person

in a rugged humor, 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

shall consider these evil qualities as the diseases

```
and distempers of a soul, which in itself is
```
```
capable of all that wisdom and goodness where-
```
```
with the best of saints have ever been adorned,
```
```
and which may one day come to be raised unto
```
```
such heights of perfection as shall render it
```
```
a fit companion for the holy angels, this will
```
```
turn our aversion into pity, and make us behold
```
```
him with such resentments as we should have
```
```
when we look upon a beautiful body that was
```
```
mangled with wounds, or disfigured by some
```
```
loathsome disease ; and however we hate the
```
```
vices, we shall not cease to love the man.
```
## TO BEGET PURITY, WE SHOULD CONSIDER

## THE DIGNITY OF OUR NATURE.

```
TN the next place, for purifying our souls, and
```
```
disentangling our affections from the pleas-
```
ures and enjoyments of this lower life, let us

frequently ponder the excellency and dignity of

our nature, and what a shameful and unworthy

thing it is for so noble and divine a creature as

the soul of man to be sunk and immersed in

brutish and sensual lust, or amused with airy

and fantastical delights, and so to lose the

relish of solid and spiritual pleasures ; that the

beast should be fed and pampered, and the

man and the Christian be starved in us. Did

we but mind who we are, and for what we

were made, this would teach us in a right

sense to reverence and stand in awe of our-

selves ; it would beget a modesty and shame-

facedness, and make us very shy and reserved

in the use of the most innocent and allowable

pleasures.

## WE SHOULD MEDITATE OFTEN ON THE JOYS

## OF HEAVEN.

```
TT will be very effectual to the same purpose,
```
```
that we frequently raise our minds towards
```
heaven, and represent to our thoughts the joys

that are at God's right hand, those pleasures

that endure fo?' evermore; for every man that

hath this hope in him purifieth himself^ even

as he is pure. If our heavenly country be

much in our thoughts, it will make us, as

strangers and pilgrims, to abstain from fleshly

lusts, which war against the soul, and keep

ourselves unspotted from this world, that we

may be fit for the enjoyments and felicities of

the other. But then we must see that our

notions of heaven be not gross and carnal, that

we dream not of a Mahometan paradise, nor

rest on those metaphors and similitudes by

w^hich these joys are sometimes represented

```
;
```
for this might, perhaps, have quite a contrary

effect ; it might entangle us further in carnal

affections, and we should be ready to indulge

ourselves in a very liberal foretaste of those

pleasures, wherein we had placed our everlast-

ing felicity. But when we come once to

conceive aright of those pure and spiritual

pleasures, when the happiness we propose to

ourselves is from the sight and love and en-

joyment of God, and our minds are filled with

the hopes and forethoughts of that blessed

```
estate ; oh how mean and contemptible will
```
```
all things here below appear in our eyes I with
```
```
what disdain shall we reject the gross and
```
```
muddy pleasures that would deprive us of those
```
```
celestial enjoyments, or an}^ way unfit and
```
```
indispose us for them.
```
## HUMILITY ARISES FROM THE CONSIDERATION

## OF OUR FAILINGS.

```
^
```
```
I ^HE last branch of religion is humility, and
```
```
sure we can never want matter of con-
```
```
sideration for begetting it : all our wickednesses
```
```
and imperfections, all our follies and our sins,
```
```
mav help to pull down that fond and overween-
```
```
ing conceit which we are apt to entertain of
```
```
ourselves. That which makes any body esteem
```
us, is their knowledge or apprehension of some

little good, and their ignorance of a great deal

of evil that may be in us ; were they thor-

oughly acquainted with us, they would quickly

change their opinion. The thoughts that pass

in our heart, in the best and most serious day

of our life, being exposed unto public view^

would render us either hateful or ridiculous :

and now, however we conceal our failings

from one another, yet sure w^e are conscious

of them ourselves, and some serious reflections

upon them would much qualify and allay the

vanity of our spirits. Thus holy men have

```
come really to think w^orse of themselves than
```
of any other person in the world : not but that

they knew that gross and scandalous vices are,

```
in their nature, more heinous than the surpri-
```
```
sals of temptations and infirmity ; but because
```
```
they w^ere much more intent on their owm mis-
```
```
carriages, than on those of their neighbors, and
```
```
did consider all the aggravations of the one,
```
```
and every thing that might be supposed to
```
```
diminish and alleviate the other.
```
## THOUGHTS OF GOD GIVE US THE LOWEST

## THOUGHTS OF OURSELVES.

TI)UT it is well observed by a pious writer,

```
that the deepest and most pure humility
```
doth not so much arise from the consideration

of our own faults and defects, as from a calm

and quiet contemplation of the divine purity

and goodness. Our spots never appear so

clearly, as when we place them before this in-

finite light ; and we never seem less in our own

eyes, than when we look down upon ourselves

from on high. Oh how little, how nothing do

all those shadows of perfection then appear,

for which we are wont to value ourselves

```
!
```
That humility which cometh from a view of

our own sinfulness and miser}', is more turbu-

lent and boisterous ; but the other layeth us

full as low, and wanteth nothing of that anguish

and vexation wherewith our souls are apt to

boil when they are the nearest objects of our

thoughts.

PRAYER, ANOTHER INSTRUxMENT OF RELIGION,

## AND THE ADVANTAGES OF MENTAL PRAYER.

^ I ^HERE remains yet another means for be-

```
getting a holy and religious disposition
```
in the soul ; and that is, fervent and hearty

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 w^e 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 dark-

ness, 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, and there is no need I should,

there being so many books that treat on this

subject ; 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 own advantages in

private; and another wherein, though we utter

no sound, yet we conceive the expressions and

form the words, as it were, in our minds : so

there is a third and more sublime kind of

prayer, wherein the soul takes a higher flight,

and havinor collected all its forces bv longr and

serious meditation, it darteth itself (if I may so

speak) towards God in sighs, and groans, and

thoughts too big for expression. As when,

after a deep contemplation of the divine per-

fections appearing in all his works of wonder,

it addresseth itself unto him in the profoundest

adoration of his majesty and glory : or when,

after sad reflections on its vileness and miscar-

riages, it prostrates itself before him w^ith the

greatest confusion and sorrow, not daring to

lift up its eyes, or utter one w^ord in his pres-

ence : or when, having well considered the

beauty of holiness, and the unspeakable felicity

of those that are truly good, it panteth after

God, and sendeth up such vigorous and ardent

desires as no words can sufficiently express,

continuing and repeating each of these acts as

long as it finds itself upheld by the force and

impulse of the previous meditation.

```
This mental prayer is of all others the most
```
effectual to purify the soul, and dispose it unto

a holy and religious temper, and may be

termed the great secret of devotion, and 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 intercessionfor

us with groanings that cannot be tittered; or,

the original may bear, that cannot he worded.

Yet I do not so recommend this sort of prayer,

as to supersede the use of the other ; for we

have so many several things to pray for, and

every petition of this nature requireth so much

time, and so great an intention of spirit, that it

were not easy therein to overtake them all ; to

say nothing that the deep sighs and heavings

of the heart which are wont to accompany it,

```
are something oppressive to nature, and make
```
it hard to continue long in them. But certainly

a few of these inward aspirations will do more

than a great many fluent and melting expres-

sions.

```
4
```
```
RELIGION IS TO BE ADVANXED BY THE SAME
```
```
MEANS BY WHICH IT IS BEGUN; AND THE
```
```
USE OF THE HOLY SACRAMENT TOWARDS
```
```
IT.
```
^

```
I ^HUS, my dear friend, I have briefly pro-
```
```
posed the method which I judge proper
```
for moulding the soul into a holy frame ; and

the same means which serve to beget this di-

vine temper, must still be practised for strength-

ening and advancing it ; and therefore I shall

recommend but one more for that purpose, and

that is the frequent and conscientious use of

that hoi}' Sacrament, which is peculiarly ap-

pointed to nourish and increase the spiritual

life, when once it is begotten in the soul. All

the instruments of religion do meet together in

this ordinance ; and while we address ourselves

unto 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 con-

tempt of the world, and every grace doth ex-

```
ercise itself ^Yith the greatest activity and
```
vigor ; all the subjects of contemplation do

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 accepta-

ble force. And certainly the neglect or care-

less performance of this duty, is one of the

chief causes that bedwarfs our religion, and

makes us continue of so low a size.

```
But it is time I should put a close to this
```
letter, which is grown to a far greater bulk

than at first I intended : if these poor papers

can do you the smallest service, I shall think

myself very happy in this undertaking ; at

least, I am hopeful you will kindly accept the

sincere endeavors of a person who \vould fain

acquit himself of some part of that which he

owes you.

## A PRAYER.

" A ND now, O most gracious God, Father

```
and Fountain of mercy and goodness,
```
who hast blessed us with the knowledge of our

happiness, and the way that leadeth unto it, ex-

cite in our souls such ardent desires after the

one, as may put us forth to the diligent prose-

cution of the other. Let us neither presume

on our own strength, nor distrust thy divine

assistance ; but while we are doing our utmost

endeavors, teach us still to 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. Oh that our ways were

directed to keep thy statutes, then shall we not

be ashamed when we have respect unto all thy

commandments. Possess our hearts with a

generous and holy disdain of all those poor

enjoyments which this w^orld holdeth out to

allure us, that they may never be able to in-

veigle 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 and full persuasion of

those great truths which thou hast revealed in

the gospel, as may influence and regulate our

whole conversation ; and that the life which

w^e henceforth live in the flesh, we may live

through faith in the Son of God. Oh that the

infinite perfections of thy blessed nature, and

the astonishing expressions of thy goodness and

```
love, may conquer and overpower our hearts,
```
```
that they may be constantly rising toward thee
```
```
in flames of the devoutest affection, and en-
```
```
larging themselves in sincere and 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 resign and give up our-
```
```
selves 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 coun-

sel, and afterwards receive us unto glory, for

the merits and intercession of thy blessed Son

our Saviour." Amen,

```
THE END.
```
```
CAMBRIDGE : PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
```
t;