The Works of the Rev. John Wesley

An Extract from Mr. Law’s

TREATISE

On CHRISTIAN PERFECTION.

Chap. VI.

Christians are called to a constant state of prayer and devotion?

I.IT is one principal article of our religion to believe that our blessed Saviour is now at the right hand of God, there making perpetual intercession for us, till the redemption of mankind is finished. Prayer therefore is undoubtedly a proper means of drawing near to God; since he who has conquered sin and death, who is Lord of all, is yet as the great advocate for sinners, obliged to make perpetual intercession for them.

Whenever therefore we are in the spirit of prayer; when our hearts are lifted up to God, breathing out holy petitions to the throne of grace, we have this encouragement to be constant and fervent in it, that we are then joining with an intercession at the right hand of God, and doing that for ourselves on earth which our blessed Saviour is perpetually doing for us in heaven. This reason of prayer is perhaps not much considered; yet it certainly contains a most powerful motive to it. For who that considers his redemption as now carrying on by an intercession in heaven, can think himself so rightly employed as when the constancy of his own prayers bear some resemblance to that never-ceasing intercession which is made above? This shews us also, that we are most of all to desire those prayers which are offered up at the altar, where the body and blood of Christ are joined with them. For as our prayers are only acceptable to God through the merits of Jesus Christ; so we may be sure it is the most prevailing prayer, when we thus pray in the name of Christ, and plead his merits in the highest manner we can.

II. Devotion may be considered either as an exercise of public or private prayers at set times and occasions; or as a temper of the mind, a state and disposition of the heart, which is rightly affected with such exercises. Now external acts of devotion, are like other external actions, very liable to falseness, and are only so far good as they proceed from a right disposition of heart. Zealous professions of friendship are but hypocrisy, unless there be an equal zeal in the heart; and so solemn prayers are but repeated hypocrisies, unless the heart be conformable to them. Since therefore it is the heart only that is devout, I shall consider devotion chiefly in this respect, as it is a state and temper of heart; for it is in this sense only that Christians are called to a constant state of devotion. They are not to be always upon their knees; but they are to be always in the state of devotion.

III. *Friendship does not require us to be always waiting upon our friends in external services; these offices have their times of intermission; it is only the service of the heart that is never to intermit. This is not to begin and end, as external services do; but to persevere like the motion of our heart, or the beating of our pulse. It is just so in devotion; prayers have their hours, their beginning and ending, but that turn of mind, that disposition of the heart towards God, which is the life and spirit of prayer, is to be as constant and lasting as our own life and spirit.

*The repeating of a creed at certain times is an act of faith; but that faith, which overcometh the world, stays neither for times nor seasons, but is a living principle of the soul, that is always believing, trusting and depending upon God. In the same manner verbal prayers are acts of devotion; but that prayer which openeth the gates of heaven, stops not at forms and manuals of devotion; but is a language of the soul, which worships, adores, and delights in God, at all times and seasons.

The reason of prayer, like all other duties of piety, is founded in the nature of God, and the nature of man. It is founded in the nature of God, as he is the sole fountain of all happiness; it is founded in the nature of man, as he is weak and helpless, and full of wants. So that prayer is an earnest application, or ascent of the heart to God, as to the sole cause of all happiness. He therefore that most truly feels the misery, corruption, and weakness of his own nature; who is most fully convinced that a relief from all these disorders, and a true happiness, is to be found in God alone; he who is most fully convinced of these two truths, is most fully possessed of the spirit of prayer.

IV. *Hence we may perceive why people of learning, and great application to books, who seem to have retired from the corruptions of the world, are yet often not devout. The reason is, because devotion imparts a full sense of the vanity and littleness of every thing but God, whereas it is often the same vanity that wears out scholars in their studies, and other people at court, in the camp, or at sea. They do not want to be merchants, or colonels, or secretaries of state; but they want to be critics, grammarians and historians. They, it may be, disregard riches and equipage; despise the sports and diversions of the present age; but then it is to contemplate the riches and equipage, the sports and diversions of the ancient Romans.

The vanity of some ladies and gentlemen would be touched, if you should tell them ♦that they did not understand dress: some great scholars would be more dejected, if you should suppose them ignorant of a fold in the Roman garments.

♦ duplicate word removed ‘that’

The bulk of mankind are so dull and tasteless, and illiterate, as to set their hearts upon current coin. But great learning has raised some men above this vulgar grossness of taste. Their heart does not beat but at the sight of a medal, or an ancient coin. And they are only afraid of dying before they have out-done the world for their collections of shells, skins, stones, flies, and insects.

V. *When men retire into their studies to change their nature; to correct and reform their passions; to find out the folly, the falseness, the corruption and weakness of their hearts; to penetrate into the vanity and emptiness of all worldly attainments; when they read and meditate, to fill their souls with heavenly affections, and to raise their hearts unto God; when this is learning, (and what else deserves the name?) then learning will lead men unto God; then learned men will be devout, and great scholars will be great saints.

VI. Many people are thus far sincere in their devotions, that they would be glad to pray devoutly; they strive to be fervent, but never attain to it, because they never took the only possible way. They never thought of altering their lives, or of living different from the rest of the world; but hope to be devout merely by reading over books of devotion: which is as odd a fancy, as if a man should expect to be happy, by reading discourses upon happiness. When these people dare take Christianity, as it is offered to them in the gospel; when they deny themselves, and renounce the world, they then will have begun devotion.

Trebonius asks how often he shall pray? He thinks the nicety of the question shews the piety of his heart. But Trebonius is deceived, for the question proves, that he is a stranger to devotion. Trebonius has a friend; he is constantly visiting him; he is never well out of his company. If he is absent, letters are sent at all opportunities. Now what is the reason that he never asks how often he shall visit, how often he shall delight in, how often he shall write to his friend? It is because his friend has his heart, and his heart is his faithful and sufficient instructor. When Trebonius has given his heart to God, he will have done asking how often he shall pray.

Julius goes to prayers; he confesses himself to be a miserable sinner; he accuses himself to God with all the aggravations that can be, as having no health in him. Yet Julius cannot bear to be informed of any imperfection, or suspected to be wanting in any degree of virtue. Now, can there be a stronger proof, that Julius is wanting in the sincerity of his devotions? Is not this a plain sign, that his confessions to God are only words of course, an humble civility of speech to his Maker, in which his heart had no share?

If a man was to confess that his eyes were bad, his hands weak, his feet feeble, and his body helpless; he would not be angry with those that supposed he was not in perfect strength. Yet Julius confesses himself to be in great weakness, corruption, disorder, and infirmity; and yet is angry at any one that does but suppose him defective in any virtue. Is it not the same thing as if he had said “you must not imagine that I am in earnest in my devotions”?

VII. To live in true devotion, we must daily consider the end and hope of our calling, that all worldly passions and desires may be swallowed up in one great desire of future glory. This devotion to God is signified in scripture, by living by faith and not by sight, when the invisible things of the other life, are the reason, the motive, and the measure of all our desires and tempers. And those who thus tend to God in all their motion and desires, are devout every where. This makes their common actions acts of religion, and turns every place into a chapel. And it is to this devotion we are all called, not only by particular precepts, but by the whole nature and tenour of our religion.

VIII. Now, as all states and tempers of the mind must be supported by actions and exercises suitable to them; so devotion, which is an earnest application of the soul to God, as its only happiness, must be supported and kept alive by actions and exercises suitable to it. The devotion of the heart disposes us to observe set times of prayer; and, on the other hand, set times of prayer increase and enliven the devotion of the heart. It is thus in all other cases: habits of the mind dispose us to actions suitable to them; and these actions strengthen and improve the habits from whence they proceed.

*It is the habitual taste for music that carries people to concerts; and again, it is concerts that increase the habitual love of music: so it is the right disposition of the heart towards God that leads people to outward acts of prayer; and, on the other side, outward acts of prayer preserve and strengthen the right disposition of the heart towards God. As therefore we are to judge of the significancy of our prayers, by looking to the state and temper of our heart; so are we also to judge of the state of our heart by the frequency, constancy, and importunity of our prayers. For as we are sure that our prayers are insignificant, unless they proceed from a right heart; so unless our prayers be frequent, constant, and full of importunity, we may be sure our heart is not right towards God.

IX. Our blessed Saviour has indeed condemned one sort of long prayer. But, when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the Heathens do; for they think they shall be heard for their much speaking¹. But it is not length, or a continuance of prayer that is here forbid; but vain repetitions. Nor are the Heathens here condemned for being importunate, and persevering in prayer; but for a wrong judgment, in that they thought they were heard, because they spoke much; that is, often repeated the same words. So that all that Christians are here forbid, is this, to think that the efficacy of prayer consists in vain and long repetitions; yet some imagine, that a continuance of prayer is here reproved, and thence conclude, that shortness is a necessary qualification of prayer.

¹ Matt. vi. 7.

But how willing must people be to be deceived, before they can reason in this manner? For the words have plainly no relation to length or shortness of prayer. They no more condemn the one than the other. They only condemn an opinion of the Heathens, that the excellency of prayer consisted in a multitude of repetitions. Now, to think that short prayer is better, because it is short, is the same error as to hold with the Heathens, that it is better because it is often repeated. It is the same mistake in the nature of devotion.

X. But supposing the meaning of these words was obscure (which it is not) yet surely it is plain enough, that our Saviour has elsewhere expresly recommended a continuance and importunity in prayer. And how perversely do they read the gospel, who can find this authority against such kind of devotion! For can he who was so often retiring to deserts, to mountains, to solitary places to pray, who spent whole nights in prayer; can he be supposed to have left a reproof of those who should follow his example? But besides his example, his doctrine is on no point more plain and certain. He spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray and not to faint. And it is plain to any one that reads it, that it has no other intent but to recommend continuance and importunity in prayer. The widow is relieved; not because she asked relief, but because she continued asking it: And God is said to avenge his elect; not because they cry to him now and then, but because they cry day and night. Our blessed Saviour teacheth the same doctrine in another parable, of a person going to his friend to borrow three loaves at midnight, which he concludes thus: I say unto you, though he would not rise and give him, because he is his friend; yet because of his importunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth. Here again the sole scope of the passage is to shew the efficacy of continuance and importunity in prayer.

XI. Clito says he desires no more time for rising, dressing, and saying his prayers, than a quarter of an hour. He tells this to his friends; not to shew his want of religion, but that he may be thought to understand devotion. You tell him that our Saviour’s parables teach continuance and importunity in prayer; that the apostles exhort to pray without ceasing, to pray always; and that devout persons are recorded in scripture as praying night and day. Still Clito is for short prayers. He at last finds a text of scripture, and appeals to the example of the angels; they only said, Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good-will towards men. Clito takes this to be an argument for short prayer, because the angels had done so soon. But Clito must be told, that this is no prayer at all; it is only a joyful proclamation to men. And surely the manner of angels speaking to men, can be no rule or measure of men’s speaking to God. The angels had no more to tell the world than this message of joy; but does it therefore follow, that sinners are to be as short in their addresses to God? If Clito must have an example from heaven, he might have found one much more proper than this, where it is said, That they rest not day and night, saying, holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come¹.

¹ Rev. iv. 3.

XII. There are two seasons of our hearts which we should carefully observe: I mean the time when we are most affected with our devotions, and the time when we are most indisposed to pray. For both these might equally serve to instruct us in the knowledge of ourselves, and how to govern the motions of our hearts.

*Reflect with yourself, how it was with you; what circumstance you was in; what had happened to you; what you had been doing; when you found yourself so affected with your devotions. Now, if you find out what state you was then in, when you was disposed to pray so fervently, then you have found out a way of raising your devotion at another time. If you was then to put down in writing some short remembrance of the chief things that raised your heart, so that you might have a view of them as often as your mind wanted such assistance, you would find a benefit that would reward your labour. On the contrary, whenever you have found yourself very much indisposed for prayer, reflect with yourself, what state you was then in; what had happened unto you; what thoughts you had in your head; what passions were then awakened; what you had been doing, or were intending to do: for when you have found out the state you was then in, you have found out the hindrances of your devotion; and know what things to avoid, if you desire not to quench the Spirit.

XIII. If you was here again to make short remembrances in writing, of the chief things which rendered you indisposed for prayer, and frequently to read and reflect upon them, you would have a faithful information of what you are most to avoid. If you find that impertinent visits, foolish conversation, or a day idly spent in civil compliances with other people, have rendered your mind dull and indisposed, and less affected with devotion, then you will have found that impertinent visits, and ceremonious compliances in spending our time, are not little indifferent things; but are to be daily watched and guarded against by all those who desire to be daily alive unto God.

XIV. They who are for short prayers, because God does not need much intreaty, ought also to shew, that man does not need much prayer; does not need that strength, and light, and help, which arises from much praying. For unless this be the state of our hearts, we shall want much prayer to move and awake ourselves; how little soever we suppose necessary to excite the goodness of God. If therefore men would consider prayer, not only as it is an invocation of God, but also as it is an exercise of holy thoughts; as it is an endeavour to feel and be affected with the great truths of religion, they would soon see, that tho’ God is so good as not to need much calling upon; yet that man is so weak as to need much assistance, and to be under a constant necessity of that help, and light, and improvement which arises from praying much. When therefore we would know how much we ought to pray, we must consider how much our hearts want to be altered, and remember that the great work of prayer is, to work upon ourselves; it is not to move and affect God, but it is to move and affect our own hearts, and fill them with such tempers as God delights to reward.

XV. *Now prayer never so corrects and amends the heart as when we extend it to all the particulars of our state, enumerating all our wants, infirmities, and disorders; not because God needs to be informed of them, but because by this means we inform ourselves, and make our hearts in the best manner acquainted with our true condition. When our prayers thus descend to all the circumstances of our condition, they become a faithful glass to us; and so often as we pray, so often we see ourselves in a true light.

Don’t be content therefore with confessing yourself to be a sinner, or with praying against sin in general: for this will but a little affect your mind; it will only shew you to yourself in such a state as all mankind are in: but if you find yourself out; if you confess and lay open the guilt of your own particular sins; if you pray constantly against such particular sins as you find yourself most subject to, the frequent sight of your own sins, and your constant deploring of their guilt, will give your prayers entrance into your hearts, and put you upon measures how to amend.

If you confess yourself only to be a sinner, you confess yourself to be a man; but when you describe and confess your own particular guilt, then you find cause for your own particular sorrow; then you give your prayers all the power they can have to affect and wound your heart. In like manner, when you pray for God’s grace, don’t be satisfied with a general petition, but make your prayers suitable to your defects; and continue to ask for such gifts and graces of the Holy Spirit as you find yourself most defective in: for this will give life to your petitions, and make your heart go along with them.

XVI. Lastly, this particularity in our prayers is the greatest trial of the truth of our hearts. A man perhaps thinks he prays for humility, because he has the word humility in his prayers; but if he was to branch out humility into all its particular parts, he would perhaps find himself not disposed to pray for them. If he was to represent to himself the several particulars which make a man poor in spirit, he would find his heart not desirous of them. So that the only way to know our hearts, and whether we really pray for any virtue, is to have all its parts in our prayers, and to ask for it in all its instances. If the proud man was to pray daily for humility in all its kinds, and to beg of God to remove him from all occasions of such pride, as is common to his particular state, and to disappoint him in all his attempts that were contrary to humility, he would find that such prayers would either conquer his pride, or his pride would put an end to his prayers. For it would be impossible to live long in any instances of pride, if his daily and frequent prayers were petitions against those particular instances.

XVII. Let me now only add this one word more, that he who has learned to pray, has learned the greatest secret of a holy and happy life. Which way soever else we let loose our hearts, they will return unto us again empty and weary. Time will convince the vainest and blindest minds, that happiness is no more to be found in the things of this world, than it is to be dug out of the earth. But when the motions of our hearts are motions of piety, tending to God in constant acts of devotion, then have we found rest unto our souls; then is it that we have conquered the misery of our nature: and neither love nor desire in vain: then is it that we have found out a good that is equal to all our wants: that is, a constant source of comfort and refreshment, that will fill us with peace and joyful expectations here, and eternal happiness hereafter. For he that lives in the spirit of devotion, whose heart is always full of God, lives at the top of human happiness, and is the farthest from all the vanities and vexations which disturb the minds of men devoted to the world.

CHAP. VII.

All Christians are required to imitate the life and example of Jesus Christ.

I.OUR religion teaches us, that as we have borne the image of the earthly, so we shall bear the image of the heavenly; that after our death we shall rise to a state of life and happiness, like to that life and happiness which our blessed Saviour enjoys at the right hand of God. Since therefore we are to be fellow-heirs with Christ, it is not to be wondered at, that we are to be like Christ in this life, that we may enter into that state of happiness which he enjoys in the kingdom of heaven.

II. Not that we are called to the same outward manner of life with his; but to the same spirit and temper, which was the spirit and temper of our blessed Saviour. We are to be like him in heart, to act by the same rule, to look towards the same end, and to govern our lives by the same spirit. This is an imitation of Jesus Christ which is as necessary to salvation as it is to believe in his name. This is the sole end of all the doctrines of Christ, to make us like himself, to fill us with his spirit and temper, and make us live according to the rule and manner of his life. As no doctrines are true, but such as are according to the doctrines of Christ, so no life is right, but such as is according to the life of Christ. For he lived as infallibly as he taught; and it is as wrong to vary from his example, as from his doctrines. To live as he lived, is as certainly the one way of living as we ought, as to believe as he taught is the one way of believing as we ought. There is no other way besides this; nothing can possibly bring us to God in heaven, unless we are now one with Christ, and walk as he also walked. For we may as well expect to go to a heaven where Christ is not, as to go to that where he is, without his spirit and temper. If Christians would but suffer themselves to reflect upon this, their own minds would soon convince them of it. For who can find the least reason, why he should not imitate the life of Christ? Or why Christians should think of any other rule of life? It would be as easy to shew that Christ acted amiss, as that we need not act after his example.

III. If it should be said, that Jesus was the Saviour of the world, that he was born to redeem mankind, and was the Son of God. It may be answered, that this does not make the life of Christ to be less the rule and model of all Christians. For, as I observed before, it is the spirit and temper of Christ that all Christians are to imitate; they are to do their proper work in that spirit and temper, in which Christ did the work on which he was sent. So that although Christians are not redeemers of the world, as he was; though they have not that great work to finish which he had; yet they have their work to do in the manner that he had his; they have their part to act, which though it be a different part, must not be performed with a different spirit; but with such obedience to God, such regard to his glory, and all such holy dispositions, as our blessed Saviour manifested in every part of his life.

IV. The blessed Jesus came into the world to save the world. Now we must enter into this same design, and make salvation the business of our lives. And though we cannot contribute towards it like him, yet we must contribute all that we can, and make the salvation of ourselves and others the one care of our lives.

The poor widow’s mites were but a small matter in themselves, yet as they were the utmost she could give, our blessed Saviour set them above the larger contributions of the rich. This may encourage people in every state of life to be contented with their capacity of doing good, provided they act up to it. Let no one think that he is too low, too mean and private to follow his Lord in the salvation of souls. Let him but add his mite, and if it be all that he hath, he shall be thought to have done much. Not that all are to be preachers and teachers of religion, no more than all are to be apostles, or all prophets, or all workers of miracles. Christians are like members of one and the same body; they are as different from one another, as hands and eyes, and have as different offices; yet may their different parts promote the same common end. As the eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee; nor again, the head to the feet, I have no need of you¹; so neither can the learned teacher say he hath no need of the private, unlearned person. For the work of salvation is carried on by all hands, as well by him that is taught, as by him that teacheth. An unlearned person, by being desirous of instruction, and careful to comply with it, may promote salvation as truly, in a degree, as he that is able and willing to instruct. This teachable disposition may as effectually influence others as another man’s ability and care of teaching. Therefore, though, as the apostle saith, all have not the gift of healing, though all do not speak with tongues, yet all have some part that they may act in the salvation of mankind, and may follow their Lord and Master in the great work, for which he came down from heaven: we must not then think, that it is the business of clergymen only to carry on the work of salvation; but must remember, that we are engaged in the same business, though not in the same manner.

¹ 1 Cor. xii. 2.

V. Had the poor widow thought herself excused from taking care of the treasury; had she thought it belonged only to the rich to contribute to it, she had lost that great commendation which our Saviour bestowed upon her. Now, it may be that some widows are so very poor, as not to have so much as a mite to give to the treasury, who must therefore content themselves with the charity of their hearts; but this can never happen in the business of salvation. Here no one can be so poor, as not to have a mite to contribute towards it. For no circumstances of life can hinder us from being examples of piety, and making our lives a lesson of instruction to all that are about us. And he that lives an exemplary life though his state be ever so poor and mean, is largely contributing to the salvation of others, and proving himself the best follower of his Lord and Master.

VI. This therefore is the first great instance in which we are to follow the example and spirit of our blessed Saviour. He came to save the world: we must all consider ourselves as called to carry on this great work. For how can we think ourselves to be his followers, if we do not follow him in that for which he came into the world? How can we be like the Saviour of the world, unless the salvation of the world be our constant care? We cannot save the world as he saved it, but we can contribute our mite towards it. How knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thine husband? Or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save thy wife¹? This shews plainly, that all persons may have a share in the salvation of those that are near them, and that they are to consider themselves as expresly called to this great work. For the apostle uses it as the same argument both to husband and wife; which supposes that it is a business in which one is as much concerned as the other. The woman we know is not allowed to speak in the church, yet is she entrusted with some share in the salvation of the world; she is supposed equally capable of saving the husband, as the husband of saving the wife. Now what is here said of husband and wife, we must extend to every state and relation; brothers and sisters, friends and neighbours, must all consider themselves as called to the salvation of one another. How knowest thou, O sister, whether thou shalt save thy brother? How knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save thy neighbour? Is a way of thinking that ought never to be out of our minds. For this would make brothers and sisters bear with one another, if they consider, that they are to do that for one another which Christ hath done for the whole world. This reflection would turn our anger toward bad relations into care and tenderness for their souls; we should not be glad to get away from them, but give them more of our company, and be more exact in our behaviour towards them; always supposing it possible, that our good conversation may some time or other affect them, and that God may make use of us as a means of their salvation.

¹ 1 Cor. vii. 16.

VII. *Eutropius is very good and pious himself; but then his fault is, that he seeks only the conversation of pious and good people. He is careful and exact in his behaviour towards his virtuous friends; always studying to oblige them; but gets away from and avoids those that are of another temper. Now Eutropius should recollect, that this is acting like a physician that would take care of the healthy, and disregard those that are sick. He should remember, that his irreligious friends and relations are the very persons that are fallen to his care; and that he is as directly called to take care of their salvation, as the husband to take care of the unbelieving wife. Eutropius therefore, if he would imitate his Lord and Master, must apply to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and endeavour by all the innocent arts of pleasing his friends, to gain them to repentance. We must not excuse ourselves from this care, by saying that our relations are obstinate, hardened, and careless; but must support ourselves with the apostle’s argument, How knowest thou, O man, whether thou mayst not at last save thy relation?

VIII. The apostle saith, destroy not him with thy meat, for whom Christ died¹. We may therefore justly reason thus, that as it lies much in our power to hinder the salvation, so it must, to promote the salvation of those for whom Christ died. Destroy not therefore by thy negligence, by thy impatience, by thy want of care, that relation for whom Christ died; nor think that thou hast done enough, till there is no more that thou canst do. This is the state in which all Christians are appointed by God in their several stations; to carry on that great work, for which Christ came into the world. Clergymen are not the only men that have a cure of souls, but every Christian has some people about him, whose salvation he is obliged to be careful of; with whom he is to live in all godliness and purity, that they may have the benefit of his example and assistance in their duty to God. So that all Christians, though ever so low, and mean, and private, must consider themselves as hired by Christ to work in his vineyard; for as no circumstances of life can hinder us from saving ourselves, so neither can they hinder us from promoting the salvation of others. And though we have, according to our different stations, different parts to act; yet if we are careful of that part which is fallen to our share, we are equally objects of God’s favour.

¹ Rom. xiv. 15.

Thou, it may be, art not a prophet; God has not honoured thee with this post in his service; yet needest thou not fall short of this happiness: for our Saviour hath said, He that receiveth a prophet, in the name of a prophet, shall receive a prophet’s reward. Now this shews us, that though all men have not the same part to act in the common salvation, yet none will be losers by that state they are in, if they be but true to the particular duties of it. If they do all the good they can in their particular state, they will be looked upon with such acceptance as the poor widow that gave all that she had.

IX. *Hence we may learn the greatness of their folly, who, neglecting the exact performance of such duties as fall within their power, are pleasing themselves with the great things they would do, were they but in another state.

Clemens has his head full of imaginary piety. He is often proposing to himself what he would do if he had a great estate. He would outdo all charitable men that are gone before him: he would retire from the world; he would have no equipage; he would allow himself only necessaries, that widows and orphans, the sick and distressed, might find relief out of his estate. He tells you, that all other ways of spending an estate is folly and madness.

Now Clemens has at present a moderate estate, which he spends upon himself, in the same vanities and indulgences as other people do. He might live upon one third of his fortune, and make the rest the support of the poor; but he does nothing of all this that is in his power, but pleases himself with what he would do if his power was greater. Come to thy senses, Clemens; do not talk what thou wouldest do, if thou wast an angel, but consider what thou canst do, as thou art a man. Make the best use of thy present state; do now as thou thinkest thou wouldest do with a great estate; be sparing, deny thyself, abstain from all vanities, that the poor may be better maintained, and then thou art as charitable as thou canst be in any estate. Remember the poor widow’s mite.

Fervidus is exact in the duties of religion; but then the greatness of his zeal to be doing things that he cannot, makes him overlook those little ways of doing good which are every day in his power. Fervidus is only sorry that he is not in holy orders, and that his life is not spent in a business the most desirable of all things in the world. He is often thinking what reformation he would make in the world, if he was a priest or a bishop; he would have devoted himself wholly to God and religion, and have had no other care but how to save souls. But do not believe yourself, Fervidus; for if you desired in earnest to be a clergyman, that you might devote yourself entirely to the salvation of others, why are you not doing all you can in the state you are now in? Would you take extraordinary care of a parish, or a diocese, why then are you not as extraordinary in the care of a family? If you think the care of other peoples salvation to be the happiest business in the world, why do you neglect the care of those that are fallen into your hands? Why do you shew no concern for the souls of your servants? If they do their business for which you hired them, you never trouble your head about their Christianity. Nay, Fervidus, you are so far from labouring to make those that are about you truly devout and holy, that you almost put it out of their power to be so. You hire a coachman to carry you to church, and to sit in the street with your horses, whilst you are attending divine service. You never ask him how he supplies the loss of divine service, or what means he takes to preserve himself in a state of piety. You imagine that if you was a clergyman, you would be ready to lay down your life for your flock; yet you cannot lay aside a little state to promote the salvation of your servants. It is not desired of you, Fervidus, to die a martyr for your brethren; you are only required to go to church on foot, to spare some state and attendance, to bear sometimes with a little rain and dirt, rather than keep those souls which are as dear to God and Christ as yours is, from their full share in the common worship of Christians. Do but deny yourself such small matters as these; let us but see that you can take the least trouble to make all your servants and dependants true servants of God, then you shall be allowed to imagine what good you would have done had you been devoted to the altar.

X. *Eugenia is a young woman, full of pious dispositions; she is intending, if ever she has a family, to be the best mistress of it that ever was; her house shall be a school of religion, and her children and servants shall be brought up in the strictest piety; she will spend her time, and live in a very different manner from the rest of the world. It may be so, Eugenia; you think you intend all this: but you are not yet at the head of a family, and perhaps never may be. But Eugenia, you have now one maid, and you do not know what religion she is of; she dresses you for the church; you ask her for what you want, and then leave her to have as little Christianity as she pleases. You turn her away; you hire another; she comes, and goes, no more instructed, or edified in religion, by living with you than if she had lived with any body else. And this comes to pass, because your mind is taken up with greater things, and you reserve yourself to make a whole family religious, if ever you come to be head of it. You need not stay, Eugenia, to be so extraordinary a person; the opportunity is now in your hands; you may now spend your time, and live in as different a manner from the rest of the world, as ever you can in any other state. Your maid is your family at present; she is under your care; be now that religious governess that you intend to be; teach her the catechism, hear her read, exhort her to pray, take her with you to church, persuade her to love the divine service as you love it; and spare no pains to make her as devout as yourself. When you do thus much good in your present state, then you are that extraordinary person you intend to be; and till you thus live up to your present state, there is but little hopes that the altering your state will alter your way of life.

XI. *There is no falseness of our hearts that leads us into greater errors, than imagining, that we shall some time or other be better than we are, or need be now: for perfection has no dependance upon external circumstances; it wants no times or opportunities; but is then in its highest state, when we are making the best use of that condition in which we are placed. The poor widow did not stay till she was rich before she contributed to the treasury; she readily brought her mite; and, little as it was, it got her the reward and commendation of great charity. We must therefore all imitate the wisdom of the poor widow, and exercise every virtue in the same manner that she exercised her charity. We must stay for no time or opportunities, wait for no change of life, or fancied abilities, but remember that every time is a time for piety and perfection. Every thing but piety has its hindrances; but piety, the more it is hindered the higher it is raised. Let us therefore not vainly say, that if we had lived in our Saviour’s days, we would have followed him; or that if we could work miracles, we would devote ourselves to his glory. For, to follow Christ in our present state, and to do all that we are able for his glory, is as acceptable to him, as if we were working miracles in his name.

XII. When our blessed Saviour was upon the cross, he thus prayed for his enemies, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do¹. Now all Christians readily acknowledge that this temper of Christ is to be the exact rule of our temper on the like occasion; that we are not to fall short of it, but must be perfectly like Christ in this charity towards our murderers. But then perhaps they do not enough consider, that for the very same reason, every other temper of Christ, is as much the exact rule of all Christians as his temper towards his murderers. For we are to be thus disposed towards our persecutors and murderers, because Christ was so disposed towards his. And is it not as good an argument, that we are to be so and so disposed towards the world, and all worldly enjoyments, because Christ was so disposed towards them? He was as right in one case as the other, and no more erred in his temper towards worldly things, than in his temper towards his enemies. Should we not fail to be good Christians, if we fell short of that forgiving spirit, which the blessed Jesus shewed upon the cross? And shall we not equally fail to be good Christians, if we fall short of that humble and meek spirit which he shewed in all his life?

¹ Luke xxiii. 34.

XIII. The short of the matter is this, the spirit and temper of Christ is the strict measure of the Spirit and temper of all Christians. It is not in this or that particular temper of Christ, that we are to follow his example; but we are to aspire after his whole spirit, to be in all things as he was, and think it as dangerous to depart from his Spirit and temper in one instance as in another. For besides that there is the same authority in all that our Saviour did, which obliges us to conform to his whole example. Can any one tell why we should have more value for this world than our Saviour had? What is there in our state and circumstances, that can make it proper for us to have more affection for the things of this life than our Saviour had? Is the world any more our happiness, than it was his happiness? Are riches, and honours, and pleasures, any more our proper good, than they were his? Are we any more born for this life than our Saviour was? Are we in less danger of being corrupted by its enjoyments than he was? Are we more at leisure to take up our rest, and spend our time in worldly satisfactions than he was? Have we a work upon our hands that we can more easily finish, than he could finish his? That requires of us less mortification and self-denial, less devotion and watching, than our Saviour’s required of him? Now as nothing of this can be said; as this world is as little our happiness, and more our danger than it was his; as we have a work to finish that requires all our strength, it is plain there was no reason for his disregard of the world, but what is the same reason for us to disregard it in the same manner.

XIV. Take another instance of our blessed Saviour’s Spirit, I came down from heaven (says he) not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me¹.

¹ John vi. 38.

And again, My meat and drink is to do the will of him that sent me. Now, can any Christian shew, why he may think otherwise of himself, than our Saviour here thought? Or that he need be less devoted to the glory of God than he was? What is there in our nature and condition to make any difference of this kind? Or can any thing else be the happiness of our nature, but that which was the happiness of his? Was he a loser? Did he leave the true happiness of human life, by devoting himself to the will of God? Or can this be our case, tho’ it was not his? *Can we be losers by looking to God alone, and devoting ourselves to his glory? Was it not the greatness and happiness of our Saviour that he lived to God alone? And is there any other greatness or happiness for us? We may as well seek out for another God, as for another happiness, or another way to it, than that in which Christ is gone before us. He did not mistake the nature of man, or the nature of the world; he did not overlook any real felicity, or pass by any solid good; he only made the best use of human life; and his spirit and temper is as necessary for our condition as it was for his. For this world, and all the things of the world, signify as little to us as they did to him. We are no more in our true state, till we are got out of this world, than he was; and we have no way to arrive at true felicity and greatness, but by so devoting ourselves to God as our blessed Saviour did. We must therefore make it the business, and aim of our lives, to be like Christ: and this not in a loose or general way, but with great nicety and exactness, always looking to his spirit, to his ends and designs, to his tempers, to his ways and conversation in the world, as the exact model and rule of ours.

♦XVI. Again, Learn of me, (saith our blessed Saviour) for I am meek and lowly in heart.

♦ Number XV. omitted in text.

*It ought to be observed, that there must be something very extraordinary in these dispositions, from the manner in which we are taught them. It is only in this place, that our Saviour says expresly, Learn of me; and when he says, Learn of me, he does not say, for I am just and equitable, or kind, or holy, but I am meek and lowly in heart; as if he would teach us, that these are the tempers which most of all distinguish his Spirit, and which he most of all requires his followers to learn of him. For consider, does Christ, when he describes himself, chuse to do it by these tempers? When he calls upon us to learn of him, does he only mention these tempers? And is not this a sufficient proof that these are tempers which the followers of Christ are most of all obliged to learn; and that we are then most unlike to Christ, when we are wanting in them? Now as our great Lord and Master has made these characters the distinguishing characters of his Spirit, it is plain that they are to be the distinguishing characters of our spirit; for we are only so far his, as we are like him. Consider also, was he more lowly than he need have been? Did he practise any degrees of humility that were unnecessary? This can no more be said, than he can be charged with folly. But can there be any instances of lowliness which became him, that are not necessary for us? Does our state and condition excuse us from any kind of humility that was necessary for him? Are we higher in our nature, more raised in our condition, or more in the favour of God than he was? Are there dignities, honours, and ornaments of life, which we may delight in, tho’ he might not? We must own these absurdities, or else acknowledge that we are to breathe the same lowly spirit, act with the same meekness, and practise the same humble behaviour that he did. So that the matter comes plainly to this conclusion, either that Christ was more humble than his nature and condition required, or we are under a necessity of the same humility, till we can prove, that we are in a higher state than he was.

XVII. We see the height of our calling; that we are called to follow the example of our Lord and Master, and to go thro’ this world with his Spirit and temper. Now nothing is so likely a means to fill us with his Spirit and temper, as to be frequent in reading the gospels, which contain the history of his life and conversation in the world. We are apt to think, that we have sufficiently read a book, when we have so read it, as to know what it contains. This reading may be sufficient as to many books: but as to the gospels, we are not to think that we have read them enough, because we have often read and heard what they contain: but we must read them as we do our prayers, not to know what they contain, but to fill our hearts with the spirit of them. There is as much difference betwixt reading and reading, as there is betwixt praying and praying: and as no one prays well, but he that is daily and constant in prayer; so no one can read the scriptures to advantage, but he that is constant in the reading of them. By thus conversing with our blessed Lord; looking into his actions and manner of life; hearing his divine sayings; his heavenly instructions; his accounts of the terrors of the damned; his descriptions of the glory of the righteous, we should find our hearts formed and disposed to hunger and thirst after righteousness. Happy they who saw the Son of God upon earth converting sinners, and calling fallen spirits to return to God! And next happy are we, who have his discourses, doctrines, actions, and miracles, which then converted Jews and Heathens into saints and martyrs, still preserved to fill us with the same heavenly light, and bring us to the same state of glory!

CHAP. VIII.

An exhortation to Christian perfection.

I.WHOEVER hath read the foregoing chapters with attention, is, I hope, sufficiently instructed in the knowledge of Christian perfection. He hath seen that it requireth us to devote ourselves wholly unto God; to make the ends and designs of religion, the ends and designs of all our actions; that it calleth us to be born again of God; to live by the light of his Holy Spirit; to renounce the world, and all worldly tempers; to practise a constant universal self-denial; to make daily war with the corruption of our nature; to shew the power of divine grace, by holiness of conversation; to avoid all pleasures and cares which grieve the Holy Spirit, and separate him from us; to live in a daily, constant state of prayer and devotion; and, as the crown of all, to imitate the life and Spirit of the Holy Jesus.

II. *It now only remains that I exhort the reader to labour after this perfection. Was I to exhort any one to the study of poetry or eloquence, to labour to be rich and great, or to spend his time in mathematics, or other learning, I could only produce such reasons as are fit to delude the vanity of men, who are ready to be taken with any appearance of excellence. For if the same person was to ask me, what it signifies to be a poet or eloquent, what advantage it would be to him, to be a great mathematician, or a great statesman, I must be forced to answer, that these things would signify just as much to him, as they now signify to those poets, orators, mathematicians, and statesmen, whose bodies have been a long while lost among common dust. For if a man will be so thoughtful as to put the question to every human enjoyment, and ask what real good it would bring along with it, he would soon find, that every success in the things of this life, leaves us just in the same state of want and emptiness in which it found us. If a man asks why he should labour to be the first mathematician, orator, or statesman, the answer is easily given, because of the fame and honour of such a distinction; but if he was to ask again, why he should thirst after fame and honour, or what good they would do him, he must stay long enough for an answer. For when we are at the top of all human attainments, we are still at the bottom of all human misery, and have made no farther advancement towards true happiness, than those whom we see in the want of all these excellencies. Whether a man die before he has writ poems, compiled histories, or raised an estate, signifies no more than whether he died an hundred or a thousand years ago.

III. On the contrary, when any one is exhorted to labour after Christian perfection, if he then asks what good it will do him, the answer is ready, that it would do him a good which eternity only can measure; that it will deliver him from a state of vanity and misery: that it will raise him from the poor enjoyments of an animal life; that it will give him a glorious body, carry him, in spite of death and the grave, to live with God, be glorious among angels and heavenly beings, and be full of an infinite happiness to all eternity. If therefore we could but make men so reasonable, as to make the shortest enquiry into the nature of things, we should have no occasion to exhort them to strive after Christian perfection. Two questions we see put an end to all the vain projects of human life; they are all so empty and useless to our happiness, that they cannot stand the trial of a second question. And, on the other hand, ’tis but asking, whether Christian perfection tends: and one single thought upon the eternal happiness it leads to, is sufficient to make people saints.

IV. This shews us how inexcusable all Christians are, who are devoted to the things of this life. It is not because they want fine parts, or are unable to make deep reflections; but it is because they reject the first principles of common sense; they won’t so much as ask what those things are which they are labouring after. Did they but use thus much reason, we need not desire them to be wiser, in order to seek only eternal happiness. As a shadow at the first trial of the hand appears to have no substance; so all human enjoyments sink away into nothing at the first approach of a serious thought. We must not therefore complain of the deceitful appearances of worldly enjoyments, because the lowest degree of reason, if listened to, is sufficient to discover the cheat. If you will, you may blindly do what the rest of the world are doing; you may follow the cry, and run yourself out of breath for you know not what: but if you will but shew so much sense, as to ask why you should take such a chace, you will need no deeper a reflection than this to make you leave the broad way; and let the wise and learned, the rich and great, be mad by themselves. Thus much common sense will turn your eyes towards God, will separate you from all the appearances of worldly felicity, and fill you with one only ambition after eternal happiness.

V. Suppose strict sobriety was the sole end of man, the necessary condition of happiness, what would you think of those people, who, knowing and believing this to be true, should yet spend their time in getting quantities of all sorts of the strongest liquors? What would you think if you saw them constantly enlarging their cellars, filling every room with drams, and contending who should have the largest quantities of the strongest liquors? Now this is the folly and madness of Christians; they are as wise and reasonable, as they are who are always providing strong liquors, in order to be strictly sober. For all the enjoyments of human life, which Christians so aspire after, whether of riches, greatness, honours, or pleasures, are as much the dangers and temptations of a Christian, as strong and pleasant liquors are the temptations of a man that is to drink only water. Now if you was to ask such a man, why he is continually increasing his stock of liquors, when he is to abstain from them all, and only to drink water, he can give you as good a reason, as those Christians, who spare no pains to acquire riches, greatness, and pleasures, at the same time that their salvation depends upon their renouncing them all, upon their heavenly-mindedness, humility, and constant self-denial.

VI. But it may be you are not devoted to these things; you have a greater soul than to be taken with riches, equipage, or the pageantry of state; you are deeply engaged in learning and sciences.

You are squaring the circle, or settling the distances of the stars, or busy in the study of exotic plants.

You are comparing the ancient languages, have made deep discoveries in the change of letters, and perhaps know how to write an inscription in as obscure characters as if you had lived above two thousand years ago: or, perhaps you are meditating upon the Heathen theology, collecting the history of their Gods and Goddesses; or, you are scanning some ancient Greek or Roman poet, and making an exact collection of their scattered remains, scraps of sentences, and broken words.

You are not exposing your life in the field like a mad Alexander or Cæsar; but you are fighting over all their battles in your study; you are collecting the names of their generals, the number of their troops, the manner of their arms, and can give the world a more exact account of the times, places, and circumstances of their battles, than has yet been seen.

VII. You will perhaps ask, whether these are not very commendable enquiries? An excellent use of our time and parts? Whether people may not be very reasonably exhorted to these kind of studies? It may be answered, that all enquiries (however learned they may be reckoned) which do not improve the mind in some useful knowledge, that do not make us wise in religious wisdom, are to be reckoned amongst our greatest vanities and follies. All speculations that will not stand this trial, are to be looked upon as the wanderings and impertinencies of a disordered understanding.

It is strange want of thought to imagine, that an enquiry is ever the better, because it is taken up in Greek and Latin. Why is it not as wise and reasonable for a scholar to dwell in the kitchen and converse with cooks, as to go into his study, to meditate upon the Roman art of cookery, and learn their variety of sauces?

*A grave doctor in divinity would perhaps think his time very ill employed, that he was acting below his character, if he was to be an amanuensis to some modern poet. Why then does he think it suitable with the weight of his calling, to have been a drudge to some ancient poet, counting his syllables for several years, only to help the world to read what some irreligious, wanton, or epicurean poet has wrote?

It is certainly a much more reasonable employment to be making cloaths, than to spend one’s time in reading or writing volumes upon the Grecian or Roman garments.

VIII. If you can shew me a learning that makes man truly sensible of his duty, that fills the mind with true light, that reforms the heart, that disposes it right towards God, that makes us more reasonable in all our actions; that inspires us with fortitude, humility, devotion, and contempt of the world: that gives us right notions of the greatness of religion, the sanctity of morality, the littleness of every thing but God, the vanity of our passions, and the misery and corruption of our nature, I will own myself an advocate for such learning. But to think that time is well employed, because it is spent in such speculations as the vulgar cannot reach, or because they are fetched from antiquity, or found in Greek or Latin, is a folly that may be called as great as any in human life.

They who think that these enquiries are consistent with a heart entirely devoted to God, have not enough considered human nature; they would do well to consult our Saviour’s rebuke of Martha. She did not seem to have wandered far from her proper business; she was not busy in the history of house-wifery, or enquiring into the original of the distaff; she was only taken up with present affairs, and cumbered about much serving: but our blessed Saviour said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things. But one thing is needful.

Now if scholars and divines can shew, that they only apply to such studies as are serviceable to the one thing needful; if they are busy in a philosophy and learning that have a necessary connection with the devotion of the heart to God, such learning becomes the followers of Christ; but, if they trifle in Greek and Latin, and only assist other people to follow them in the same impertinence, such learning may be reckoned amongst the corruptions of the age. For all the arguments against pride, covetousness, and vanity, are as good arguments against such learning; it being the same irreligion to be devoted to any false learning, as to be devoted to any other false good.

A satisfaction in any vain ornaments of the body, whether of cloaths or paint, is no greater a mistake, than a satisfaction in the vain accomplishments of the mind.

IX. A man that is eager and laborious in the search and study of that which does him no good, is the same poor, little soul, as the miser who is happy in his bags that are laid by in dust. A ridiculous application of our money, time, and understanding, is the same fault, whether it be found amongst the finery of fops, the hoards of misers, or the trinkets of virtuoso’s. It is the same false turn of mind, the same mistake of the use of things, the same ignorance of the state of man, and the same offence against religion.

*When we see a man brooding over bags of wealth, and labouring to die rich, we do not only accuse him of a poor littleness of mind; but we charge him with great guilt; we do not allow such a one to be in a state of religion. Let us therefore suppose that this covetous man was on a sudden changed into another temper; that he was grown polite and curious; that he was fond and eager after the most useless things, if they were but ancient and scarce; let us suppose that he is now as greedy of original paintings, as he was before of money; that he will give more for a dog’s head, or a snuff of a candle done by a good hand, than he ever gave in charity all his life; is he a wiser man, or a better Christian than he was before? Has he more overcome the world, or is he more devoted to God, than when his soul was locked up with his money? Alas! his heart is in the same false satisfaction; he is in the same state of ignorance, is as far from the true good, as much separated from God, as he whose soul is cleaving to the dust; he lives in the same vanity, and must die in the same misery, as he that lives and dies in foppery or covetousness.

X. Here therefore I place my argument for Christian perfection. I exhort thee to labour after it, because there is nothing else for thee to labour after; there is nothing else that the reason of man can exhort thee to. The whole world has nothing to offer thee in its stead; chuse what other way thou wilt, thou hast chosen nothing but vanity and misery; for all the different ways of the world are only different ways of deluding thyself: this only excells that as one vanity can excel another. If thou wilt make thyself more happy than those who pursue their own destruction, if thou wilt shew thyself wiser than fops, more reasonable than sordid misers, thou must pursue that happiness, and study that wisdom which leads to God; for every other pursuit, every other way of life, however polite or plausible in the opinion of the world, has a folly and stupidity in it that is equal to the folly and stupidity of fops and misers.

For awhile shut thine eyes, and think of the silliest creature in human life; imagine to thyself something that thou thinkest the most poor and vain in the way of the world. Now thou art thyself that poor and vain creature, unless thou art devoted to God, and labouring after Christian perfection; unless this be thy difference from the world, thou canst not think of any creature more silly than thyself. For it is not any post, or condition, or figure in life, that makes one man wiser or better than another; if thou art a proud scholar, a worldly priest, an indevout philosopher, a crafty politician, an ambitious statesman, thy imagination cannot invent a way of life that has more of vanity or folly than thine own.

XI. Every one has wisdom enough to see what variety of fools and madmen there are in the world.

Now perhaps we cannot do better, than to find out the true reason of the folly and madness of any sort of life. Ask thyself therefore wherein consists the folly of any sort of life, which is most condemned in thy judgment.

*Is a drunken fox-hunter leading a foolish life? Wherein consists the folly of it? Is it because he is not getting money upon the exchange? Or because he is not wrangling at the bar? Or not waiting at court? No; the folly of it consists in this, that he is not living like a reasonable creature; that he is not acting like a being that has a salvation to work out with fear and trembling; that he is throwing away his time amongst dogs, and noise, and intemperance, which he should devote to watching and prayer, and the improvement of his soul in all holy tempers. Now, if this is the folly (as it most certainly is) of an intemperate fox-hunter, it shews us an equal folly in every other way of life, where the same great ends of living are neglected. Tho’ we are shining at the bar, making a figure at court, great at the exchange, or famous in the schools of philosophy, we are yet the same despicable creatures as the intemperate fox-hunter, if these things keep us as far from holiness and heavenly affections. There is nothing greater in any way of life than fox-hunting: it is all the same folly, unless religion be the beginning and ending, the rule and measure of it all. For it is as noble a wisdom, and shews as great a soul, to die less holy and heavenly for the sake of hunting and noise, as for the sake of any thing that the world can give us.

XII. Another motive to induce you to aspire after Christian perfection, may be taken from the double advantage of it in this life, and that which is to come.

The apostle thus exhorts the Corinthians, Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; for as much as ye know that your labour will not be in vain in the Lord¹.

¹ 1 Cor. xv. 58.

This is an exhortation founded upon solid reason: for what can be so reasonable, as to be always abounding in that work which will never be in vain? Whilst we are pleased with ourselves, or pleased with the world, we are pleased with vanity: and our most prosperous labours of this kind are but vanity of vanities: but whilst we are labouring after Christian perfection, we are labouring for eternity, and building to ourselves higher stations in the joys of heaven. As one star differeth from another star in glory, so also is the resurrection of the dead. We shall surely rise to different degrees of glory, of joy and happiness in God, according to our different advancements in holiness, and good works.

No degrees of mortification and self-denial, no private prayers, no secret mournings, no instances of charity, no labour of love, will ever be forgotten, but all treasured up to our everlasting comfort. For though the rewards of the other life are free gifts of God; yet since he has assured us, that every man shall be rewarded according to his works, it is certain that our rewards will be as different as our works have been.

XIII. Now stand still awhile, and ask yourself, whether you really believe this to be true, that the more perfect we are here, the more happy we shall be hereafter? If you do not believe this, you know nothing of God and religion. And if you do believe it, is it possible to be awake and not aspiring after Christian perfection? What can you think of, what can the world shew you, that can make you any amends for the loss of any degree of virtue? Can any way of life make it reasonable for you to die less perfect than you might have done? But if you would now devote yourself to God, perhaps you must part with some friends; you must displease some relations, you must refrain from some pleasures, you must alter your life; nay, perhaps you must do more than this, you must expose yourself to the hatred of your friends, to the jest and ridicule of wits, and to the scorn and derision of worldly men. But had you not better do and suffer all this, than die less perfect, less prepared for eternal glory? And indeed the suffering all this is suffering nothing. For why should it signify any thing to you, what fools and madmen think of you? And surely it can be no wrong or rash judgment to think those both fools and mad, who condemn what God approves, and like that which God condemns: but if you think this too much to be done, to obtain eternal glory, think on the other hand, what can be gained instead of it.

*Fancy yourself living in all the ease and pleasure that the world can give you, esteemed by your friends, undisturbed by your enemies, and gratifying all your natural tempers. If you could stand still in such a state, you might say that you had got something; but alas! every day that is added to such a life, is the same thing as a day taken from it, and shews you that so much happiness is gone from you. For be as happy as you will, you must see it all sinking away from you; you must feel yourself decline; you must see that your time shortens apace; you must hear of sudden deaths; you must fear sickness; you must both dread and desire old age; you must fall into the hands of death; you must either die in the bitter sorrows of a deep repentance, or in sad gloomy despair, wishing for mountains to fall upon you, and rocks to cover you. And is this a happiness to be chosen? Is this all that you can gain by neglecting God, by following your own desires, and not labouring after Christian perfection? Is it worth your while to separate yourself from God, to lose your share in the realms of light, to be thus happy; or, I may better say, to be thus miserable even in this life? You may be so blind and foolish, as not to think of these things; but it is impossible to think of them, without labouring after Christian perfection.

XIV. It may be, you are too young, too happy, or too busy to be affected with these reflections; but let me tell you, that all will be over before you are aware; your day will be spent, and leave you to such a night, as that which surprized the foolish virgins. And at midnight there was a cry made, behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out and meet him¹.

¹ Matt. xxv. 6.

*The last hour will soon be with you, when you will have nothing to look for, but your reward in another life; when you will stand with nothing but eternity before you, and must begin to be something that will be your state for ever. I can no more reach heaven with my hands, than I can describe the sentiments that you then will have; you will then feel motions of heart that you never felt before; all your thoughts and reflections will pierce your soul in a manner, that you never before experienced; and you will feel the immortality of your nature, by the depth and piercing vigour of your thoughts. You will then know what it is to die; you will then know that you never knew it before, that you never thought worthily of it; but that dying thoughts are as new and amazing as that state which follows them.

Let me therefore exhort you to come prepared to this time of trial; to look out for comfort, whilst the day is before you; to treasure up such a fund of good and pious works, as may make you able to bear that state, which cannot be borne without them. Could I any way make you apprehend, how dying men feel the want of a pious life; how they lament time lost, health and strength squandered away in folly; how they look at eternity, and what they think of the rewards of another life, you would soon find yourself one of those, who desire to live in the highest state of piety and perfection, that by this means you may grow old in peace, and die in full hope of eternal glory.

XV. Consider again, that besides the rewards of the other life, the devoting yourself wholly to God has a great reward even in this life, as it makes religion doubly pleasant to you. Whilst you are divided betwixt God and the world, you have neither the pleasures of religion, nor the pleasures of the world; but are always in the uneasiness of a divided state of heart. You have only so much religion as serves to disquiet you; to check your enjoyments; to shew you a hand-writing upon the wall; to interrupt your pleasures; to reproach you with your follies; and to appear as a death’s head at all your feasts; but not religion enough to give you a taste and feeling of its proper pleasures and satisfactions. You dare not wholly neglect religion; but then, you take no more of it than is just sufficient to keep you from being a terror to yourself; and you are as loath to be very good, as you are fearful to be very bad. So that you are just as happy as the slave, that dares not run away from his master, and yet always serves him against his will. Instead of having a religion that is your comfort in all troubles, your religion is itself a trouble, under which you want to be comforted; and those days and times hang heaviest on your hands, which leave you only to the offices and duties of religion. Sunday would be very dull and tiresome, but that it is but one day in seven, and is made a day of dressing and visiting, as well as of divine service. You don’t care to keep away from the public worship, but are always glad when it is over. This is the state of half piety; thus they live who add religion to a worldly life; all their religion is mere yoke and burden, and is only made tolerable by having but little of their time.

XVI. Urbanus goes to church, but he hardly knows whether he goes out of a sense of duty, or to meet his friends. He wonders at those people who are prophane, and what pleasure they can find in irreligion; but then, he is in as great a wonder at those who would make every day a day of divine worship. He feels no more of the pleasures of piety, than of the pleasures of prophaneness. As religion has every thing from him but his heart, so he has every thing from religion but its comforts. Urbanus likes religion, because it seems an easy way of pleasing God; a decent thing, that takes up but little of our time, and is a proper mixture in life: but if he was reduced to take comfort in it, he would be as much at a loss, as those who have lived without God in the world. When Urbanus thinks of joy, and pleasure, and happiness, he does not think at all of religion. He has gone through a hundred misfortunes, fallen into variety of hardships; but never thought of making religion his comfort in any of them. He makes himself quiet and happy in another manner. He is content with his Christianity, not because he is pious, but because he is not prophane. He continues in the same course of religion, not because of any real good he ever found in it, but because it does him no hurt.

*To such poor purposes as these do numbers of people profess Christianity. Let me therefore exhort you to a solid piety, to devote yourself wholly unto God; that entering deep into religion, you may enter deep into its comforts; that serving God with all your heart, you may have the peace and pleasure of a heart that is at unity with itself. When your conscience once bears you witness, that you are stedfast, immoveable, and always abounding in the work of the Lord, you will find that your reward is already begun, and that you could not be less devout, less holy, less charitable, or less humble, without lessening the most substantial pleasure that ever you felt in your life. So that to be content with any lower attainments in piety, is to rob ourselves of a present happiness, which nothing else can give us.

XVII. You would perhaps devote yourself to perfection, but for this or that little difficulty that lies in your way; you are not in so convenient a state for the full practice of piety as you could wish: but consider that this is nonsense, because perfection consists in conquering difficulties. You could not be perfect as the present state of trial requires, had you not those difficulties and inconveniences to struggle with. These things therefore which you would have removed, are laid in your way, that you may make them so many steps to glory.

As you could not exercise your charity, unless you met with objects; so neither could you shew, that you had overcome the world, unless you had many worldly engagements to overcome. If all your friends and acquaintance were devout, humble, heavenly-minded, and wholly intent upon the one end of life, it would be less perfection in you to be like them: But if you are humble amongst those that delight in pride, heavenly-minded amongst the worldly, sober amongst the intemperate, devout amongst the irreligious, and labouring after perfection amongst those that despise and ridicule your labours, then are you truly devoted unto God. Consider therefore, that you can have no difficulty, but such as the world lays in your way; and that perfection is never to be had, but by parting with the world. To stay therefore to be perfect till it suits with your condition in the world, is like staying to be charitable till there were no objects of charity. It is as if a man should intend to be courageous some time or other, when there is nothing left to try his courage.

XVIII. Again, you perhaps turn your eyes upon the world; you see all orders of people full of other cares and pleasures; you see the generality of clergy and laity, learned and unlearned, your friends and acquaintance, mostly living according to the spirit that reigneth in the world; you are therefore content with such a piety as you think contents great scholars and famous men: and it may be you cannot think that God will reject such numbers of Christians. Now all this is amusing yourself with nothing; it is only losing yourself in vain imaginations; it is making that a rule which is no rule, and cheating yourself into a false satisfaction. As you are not censoriously to damn other people; so neither are you to think your own salvation secure, because you are like the generality of the world.

*The foolish virgins that had provided no oil in their lamps, and so were shut out of the marriage-feast, were only thus far foolish, that they trusted to the assistance of those that were wise: but you are more foolish than they; for you trust to be saved by the folly of others; you imagine yourself safe in the negligence, vanity, and irregularity of the world; you take confidence in the broad way, because it is broad; you are content with yourself, because you seem to be along with the many, though God himself has told you, that narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

XIX. One word more and I have done. Think with yourself, what a happiness it is, that you have it in your power to secure a share in the glories of heaven, and make yourself one of those blessed beings that are to live with God for ever. Reflect upon the glories of bright angels, that shine about the throne of heaven. Think upon that fulness of joy, which is the state of Christ at the right hand of God; and remember that it is this same state of glory and joy that lies open for you. You are less, it may be, in worldly distinctions than many others; but as to your relation to God, you have no superior upon earth. Let your condition be what it will, let your life be ever so mean, you may make the end of it the beginning of eternal glory. Be often therefore in these reflections, that they may fill you with a wise ambition of all that glory which God in Christ hath called you to. For it is impossible to understand and feel any thing of this, without feeling your heart affected with strong desires after it. There are many things in human life which it would be in vain for you to aspire after; but the happiness of the next, the sum of all happiness, is secure and safe to you against all accidents. Here no chances or misfortunes can prevent your success; neither can the treachery of friends, nor the malice of enemies disappoint you; it is only your own false heart that can rob you of this happiness. Be but your own true friend, and then you have nothing to fear from your enemies. Do but you sincerely labour in the Lord, and then neither heighth nor depth, neither life nor death, neither men or devils, can make your labour vain.

An Extract from Mr. Law’s

SERIOUS CALL

TO A HOLY LIFE.

CHAP. I.

Concerning the nature and extent of Christian devotion.

1.DEVOTION is neither private nor public prayer; but prayers, whether private or public, are particular parts or instances of devotion. Devotion signifies a life devoted to God.

He therefore is the devout man, who lives no longer to his own will, or the way and spirit of the world, but to the sole will of God; who considers God in every thing, who serves God in every thing, who makes all the parts of his common life, parts of piety, by doing every thing in the name of God, and under such rules as are conformable to his glory.

2. *We readily acknowledge, that God alone is to be the rule and measure of our prayers; that in them we are to look wholly unto him, and act wholly for him; that we are only to pray in such a manner, for such things, and such ends, as are suitable to his glory.

Now let any one but find out the reason why he is to be thus strictly pious in his prayers, and he will find the same as strong a reason to be strictly pious in all the other parts of his life. For there is not the least reason why we should make God the rule and measure of our prayers, why we should then look wholly unto him, and pray according to his will; but what equally proves it necessary for us to look wholly unto God, and make him the rule and measure of all the other actions of our life. Were it not our strict duty to live by reason, to devote all the actions of our lives to God; were it not absolutely necessary to walk before him in wisdom and holiness, and all heavenly conversation, doing every thing in his name and for his glory, there would be no excellency or wisdom in the most heavenly prayers: nay, such prayers would be absurdities; they would be like prayers for wings, when it was no part of our duty to fly.

3. As sure therefore as there is any wisdom in praying for the Spirit of God, so sure is it, that we are to make that Spirit the rule of all our actions; as sure as it is our duty to look wholly unto God in our prayers, so sure is it, that it is our duty to live wholly unto God in our lives. But we can no more be said to live unto God, unless we live unto him in all our ordinary actions, unless he be the rule and measure of all our ways, than we can be said to pray unto God, unless our prayers look wholly unto him. So that unreasonable and absurd ways of life, whether in labour or diversion, whether they consume our time or our money, are like unreasonable and absurd prayers, and are as truly an offence unto God.

4. ’Tis for want of knowing, or at least considering this, that we see such a mixture of ridicule in the lives of many people. You see them strict as to some times and places of devotion; but when the service of the church is over, they are but like those that seldom or never come there. In their way of life, their manner of spending their time and money, in their cares and fears, in their pleasures and indulgencies, in their labour and diversions, they are like the rest of the world. This makes the world generally make a jest of those that are devout, because they see their devotion goes no farther than their prayers, and that they live no more unto God, till the time of prayer returns again; but live by the same humour and fancy, and in as full an enjoyment of all the follies of life as other people. This is the reason why they are the jest of worldly people; not because they are really devoted to God, but because they appear to have no other devotion, but that of occasional prayers.

5. Julius is very fearful of missing prayers; all the parish supposes Julius to be sick, if he is not at church. But if you was to ask him, why he spends the rest of his time by humour or chance? Why he is a companion of the silliest people in their most silly pleasures? Why he is ready for every impertinent entertainment and diversion? If you was to ask him why there is no amusement too trifling to please him? Why he gives himself up to an idle, gossiping conversation? Why he lives in foolish friendships for particular persons, that neither want nor deserve any particular kindness? If you ask him why he never puts his conversation, his time, and fortune under the rules of religion, Julius has no more to say for himself than the most disorderly person. For the whole tenor of scripture lies as directly against such a life, as against debauchery and intemperance. He that lives in such a course, lives no more according to the religion of Jesus Christ, than he that lives in gluttony and intemperance.

If a man was to tell Julius, that there was no occasion for so much constancy at prayers, and that he might neglect the service of the church, as the generality of people do, Julius would think such a one to be no Christian, and that he ought to avoid his company: but if a person only tell him, that he may live as the generality of the world does, that he may enjoy himself as others do, that he may spend his time and money as people of fashion do, that he may conform to the follies of the generality, and gratify his temper and passions as most people do, Julius never suspects that man to want a Christian spirit, or that he is doing the devil’s work.

6. The short of the matter is this. Either reason and religion prescribe rules and ends to all the ordinary actions of our lives, or they do not: if they do, then it is as necessary to govern all our actions by those rules as it is necessary to worship God. For if religion teaches us any thing concerning eating and drinking, or spending our time and money; if it teaches us how we are to use the world; if it tells us what tempers we are to have in common life, how we are to be disposed towards all people, how we are to behave towards the sick, the poor, the old and destitute; if it tells us whom we are to treat with a particular love, whom we are to regard with a particular esteem; if it tells us how we are to treat our enemies, and how we are to deny ourselves, he must be very weak that can think these parts of religion are not to be observed with as much exactness as any doctrines that relate to prayers.

7. Our blessed Saviour and his apostles are wholly taken up in doctrines that relate to common life. They call us to differ in every temper and way of life from the spirit and way of the world: to renounce all its goods, to fear none of its evils, to reject its joys, and have no value for its happiness: to be as new-born babes, that are born into a new state of things; to live as pilgrims, in spiritual watching, in holy fear, aspiring after another life; to take up our daily cross; to deny ourselves; to profess the blessedness of mourning; to seek the blessedness of poverty of spirit; to forsake the pride and vanity of riches; to take no thought for the morrow; to live in the profoundest humility; to rejoice in sufferings; to reject the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life; to bear injuries; to forgive and bless our enemies, and to love mankind as God loveth them; to give up our whole hearts and affections to God; and strive to enter thro’ the strait gate into a life of eternal glory.

8. Thus it is in all virtues and holy tempers; they are not ours, unless they be the virtues and tempers of our ordinary life. So that Christianity is so far from leaving us to live in the common ways of life, conforming to the folly of customs, and gratifying the passions and tempers which the spirit of the world delights in: it is so far from indulging us in any of these things, that all its virtues, which it makes necessary to salvation, are only so many ways of living, contrary to the world in all the common actions of our life.

If our common life is not a course of humility, self-denial, renunciation of the world, poverty of spirit, and heavenly affection, we don’t live the life of Christians.

9. But yet, tho’ it is thus plain, that this, and this alone, is Christianity, an uniform, open and visible practice of all these virtues; yet it is as plain, that there is little or nothing of this to be found, even among the better sort of people. You see them often at church; but look into their lives, and you see them just the same sort of people as others are. The difference that you find betwixt them is only the difference of their natural tempers. They have the same taste of the world, the same worldly cares, fears, and joys; they have the same turn of mind, are equally vain in their desires. You see the same vanity of dress, the same self-love and indulgence, the same foolish friendships and groundless hatreds, the same levity of mind and trifling spirits, the same idle dispositions, and vain ways of spending their time in visiting and conversation, as in the rest of the world, that make no pretences to devotion.

10. I don’t mean this comparison betwixt people seemingly good and professed rakes but betwixt people of sober lives. Let us take an instance in two modest women: let it be supposed that one of them is careful of times of devotion, thro’ a sense of duty; and that the other is at church seldom or often, just as it happens. Now it is a very easy thing to see this difference betwixt these persons. But, can you find any farther difference betwixt them? Can you find that their common life is of a different kind? Are not the tempers, and customs, and manners, of the one, of the same kind as of the other? Do they live as if they belonged to different worlds, had different views in their heads, and different rules and measures of all their actions? Have not they the same goods and evils? Are they not pleased and displeased in the same manner, and for the same things? Do they not live in the same course of life? Does one seem to be of this world, looking at the things that are temporal, and the other to be of another world, looking wholly at the things that are eternal? Does the one live in pleasure, delighting herself in shew or dress, and the other live in self-denial, renouncing every thing that looks like vanity, either of person, dress, or carriage? Does the one trifle away her time? And does the other study all the arts of improving it, living in prayer and watching, and such good works as may make all her time turn to her advantage, and be placed to her account at the last day? Is the one careless of expence, and glad to adorn herself with every costly ornament of dress? And does the other consider her fortune as a talent given her by God, which is to be improved religiously, and no more to be spent in vain and needless ornaments than it is to be buried in the earth?

Where must you look, to find one person of religion differing in this manner from another that has none? And yet if they do not differ in these things, can it with any sense be said, the one is a good Christian, and the other not?

11. Take another instance among the men. Leo has a great deal of good nature, has kept what they call good company, hates every thing that is false and base, is very generous to his friends; but has concerned himself so little with religion, that he hardly knows the difference betwixt a Jew and a Christian.

Eusebius, on the other hand, has had early impressions of religion, and buys books of devotion. He can talk of all the feasts and fasts of the church, and knows the names of most men that have been eminent for piety. You never hear him swear, and when he talks of religion, he talks of it as a matter of great concern.

Here you see, that one person has religion enough, to be reckoned a pious Christian; and the other is so far from all appearance of religion, that he may fairly be reckoned a Heathen. And yet, if you look into their common life, if you examine their ruling tempers in the greatest articles of life, you will find the least difference imaginable. Consider them with regard to the use of the world, because that is what every body can see. Now, to have right notions and tempers, with regard to the world, is as essential to religion, as to have right notions of God. And it is as possible for a man to worship a Crocodile, and yet be a pious man, as to have his affections set upon this world, and yet be a good Christian.

But now, if you consider Leo and Eusebius in this respect, you will find them exactly alike; seeking, using, and enjoying all that can be got in this world, in the same manner. You will find, riches, prosperity, pleasures, and honour, are just as much the happiness of Eusebius as they are of Leo. And yet, if Christianity has not changed a man’s temper, with relation to these things, what has it done for him?

12. Every one capable of reflection, must have observed, that this is generally the state, even of devout people, whether men or women. You may see them different from other people, as to times and places of prayer, but like the rest of the world in all the other parts of their lives; that is, adding Christian devotion to an Heathen life. I have the authority of our blessed Saviour for this remark, where he says, Take no thought, saying, what shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be cloathed? For after all these things do the Gentiles seek. But if to be thus affected even with the necessary things of this life, shews that we are not of a Christian spirit, but an Heathen; surely, to enjoy the vanity of the world as they did, to be like them in the main tempers of our lives, in sensual pleasures and diversions, in the vanity of dress, the love of shew and greatness, or any other gaudy distinctions of fortune, is a much greater sign of an Heathen temper; and consequently, they who add devotion to such a life, must be said to pray as Christians, but live as Heathens.

CHAP. III.

Of the great danger and folly of not intending to be as eminent as we can, in the practice of all Christian virtues.

1.ALTHOUGH the goodness of God, and his rich mercy in Christ Jesus, are a sufficient assurance to us, that he will be merciful to our unavoidable weaknesses, that is, to such failings as are the effects of ignorance or surprize; yet we have no reason to expect the same mercy towards those sins which we live in, through a want of intention to avoid them.

For instance, a common swearer, who dies in that guilt, seems to have no title to the divine mercy; because he can no more plead any weakness in his excuse, than the man that hid his talent in the earth, could plead his want of strength to keep it out of the earth.

2. But, if this be right reasoning in the case of a common swearer, that his sin is not to be reckoned a pardonable frailty, because he has no weakness to plead in its excuse: why don’t we as much condemn every other error of life, that has no more weakness to plead in its excuse than common swearing?

For if this be so bad, because it might be avoided, if we did but sincerely intend it, must not all other erroneous ways of life be very guilty, if we live in them, not through weakness and inability, but because we never sincerely intended to avoid them?

For instance, you perhaps have made no progress in the most important Christian virtues, in humility and charity. Now, if your failure is owing to your want of intention of performing them in any true degree, have you not as little to plead for yourself? And are you not as much without all excuse as the common swearer?

3. Why therefore don’t you press these things home upon your conscience? Why do you not think it as dangerous for you to live in such defects as are in your power to amend, as ’tis dangerous for a common swearer to live in the breach of that duty, which it is in his power to observe? Is not the want of a sincere intention, as blameable in one case as another?

You, it may be, are as far from Christian perfection as the common swearer is from keeping the third commandment. Are you not therefore as much condemned by the doctrine of the gospel, as the swearer is by the third commandment?

You perhaps will say, that all people fall short of the perfection of the gospel. But this is nothing to the purpose: for the question is not, whether gospel perfection can be fully attained; but whether you come as near it as a sincere intention, and careful diligence can carry you? Whether you are not in a much lower state than you might be, if you sincerely intended to advance yourself in all Christian virtues?

If your defects in piety, humility, and charity are owing to your want of sincere intention to be as eminent as you can in these virtues, then you leave yourself as much without excuse, as he that lives in the sin of swearing, through the want of a sincere intention to depart from it.

4. The salvation of our souls is set forth in scripture as a thing of difficulty, that requires all our diligence, that is to be worked out with fear and trembling.

We are told, straight is the gate, and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it: that many are called, but few are chosen: and that many will miss of their salvation who seem to have taken some pains to obtain it. Strive to enter in at the straight gate; for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.

*Here our blessed Lord commands us to strive to enter in, because many will fail, who only seek to enter: by which we are plainly taught, that religion is a state of labour and striving, and that many will fail of their salvation; not because they took no pains or care about it, but because they did not take care and pains enough; they only sought, but did not strive to enter in.

Every Christian therefore should as well examine his life by these doctrines, as by the commandments: for these doctrines are as plain marks of our condition as the commandments are.

For if salvation is only given to those who strive for it, then it is as reasonable for me to consider, whether my course of life be a course of striving to obtain it, as to consider whether I am keeping any of the commandments.

5. If my religion is only a formal compliance with those modes of worship that are in fashion where I live, if it costs me no pains or trouble, if it lays me under no rules and restraints, if I have no careful thoughts about it, is it not great weakness to think that I am striving to enter in at the straight gate?

If I am seeking every thing that can delight my senses, spending my time and fortune in pleasures, in diversions, and worldly enjoyments; a stranger to watchings, fastings, prayers, and mortifications, how can it be said, that I am working out my salvation with fear and trembling?

If I use the world and worldly enjoyments, as the generality of people do, and in all ages have done, why should I think that I am amongst those few, who are walking in the narrow way to heaven?

*And yet, if the way is narrow, if none can walk in it but those that strive, is it not as necessary for me to consider, whether the way I am in be narrow enough, or the labour I take to be a sufficient striving, as to consider whether I sufficiently observe the second or third commandment?

6. The measure of our love to God seems in justice to be the measure of our love of every virtue. We are to love and practise it with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength. And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue, we live below our nature, and instead of being able to plead our infirmities, we stand chargeable with wilful negligence.

It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work out our salvation with fear and trembling; because unless our heart and passions are eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation, unless holy fears animate our endeavours, and keep our consciences tender about every part of our duty, constantly examining how we live, and how fit we are to die, we shall in all probability sit down in such a course of life, as will never carry us to the rewards of heaven.

And he that considers, that a just God can only make such allowances as are suitable to his justice, that our works are all to be examined by fire, will find fear and trembling are proper tempers for those that are drawing near to so great a trial.

Now this is not intended to possess people’s minds with a scrupulous anxiety; but to fill them with a just fear of living in the neglect of such virtues as they will want at the day of judgment.

It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of their state, so earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling short of happiness, as the great apostle St. Paul was, when he thus wrote to the Philippians.

Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect;—but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. And then he adds, Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded.

But if the apostle thought it necessary for those who were in his state of perfection to be thus minded; thus labouring, pressing, and aspiring after some degrees of holiness, to which they were not then arrived; surely it is much more necessary for us, to be thus minded; thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy life, as we have not yet attained.

7. The best way for any one to know how much he ought to aspire after holiness, is to ask himself, how much he thinks will make him easy at the hour of death.

Now any man that dares put this question to himself, will be forced to answer, that at death, every one will wish, he had been as perfect as human nature can be.

Is not this sufficient to put us, not only upon wishing, but labouring after all that perfection which we shall then lament the want of? Is it not excessive folly to be content with such a course of piety as we already know cannot content us, at a time when we shall so want it, as to have nothing else to comfort us? How can we carry a severer condemnation against ourselves, than to believe, that at the hour of death, we shall want the virtues of the saints, and wish that we had been among the first servants of God, and yet take no methods of arriving at their height of piety, whilst we are alive?

8. Though this is an absurdity that we can pass over, whilst the health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise, and hurry, and pleasures, and business of the world, lead us on with eyes that see not; yet at death, it will appear before us in a dreadful magnitude: it will haunt us like a dismal ghost; and our conscience will never let us take our eyes from it.

We see in worldly matters, what a torment self-condemnation is; and how hardly a man is able to forgive himself, when he has brought himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely by his own folly. The affliction is made doubly tormenting; if he is forced to charge it all upon himself, as his own act and deed, against the reason of things, and contrary to the advice of his friends.

Now by this we may in some degree guess, how terrible that self-condemnation will be, when a man shall find himself in the misery of death, under the severity of a self-condemning conscience; charging all his distress upon his own folly and madness, against the sense and reason of his own mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of religion, and contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings both of God and man.

9. *Penitens was a busy, notable tradesman, and very prosperous in his dealings, but died in the thirty-fifth year of his age.

A little before his death, when the doctors had given him over, some of his neighbours came to see him; at which time he spoke thus to them.

I see, my friends, the tender concern you have for me, by the grief that appears in your countenances; and I know the thoughts that you have about me. You think how melancholy a case it is, to see so young a man, and in such flourishing business, delivered up to death. And perhaps, had I visited any of you in my condition, I should have had the same thoughts of you.

But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more like your thoughts, than my condition is like yours.

It is no trouble to me now to think, that I am to die young, or before I have raised an estate.

These things are now sunk into such mere nothings, that I have no name little enough to call them by. For if in a few days, or hours, I am to leave this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find myself either for ever happy in the favour of God, or eternally separated from all light and peace. Can any words sufficiently express the littleness of every thing else?

Is there any dream like the dream of life, which amuses us with the disregard of these things? Is there any folly like the folly of our manly state, which is too wise and busy to be at leisure for these reflections?

10. When we consider death as a misery, we only think of it as a miserable separation from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom mourn over an old man that dies rich; but we lament the young, that are taken away in the progress of their fortune. You yourselves look upon me with pity, not that I am going unprepared to meet the Judge of quick and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in the flower of my life.

This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts: And yet what folly of the silliest children is so great as this?

For what is there miserable in death, but the consequences of it? When a man is dead, what does any thing signify to him, but the state he is then in?

Our poor friend Lepidus died, you know, as he was dressing himself for a feast. Do you think it is now part of his trouble, that he did not live till that entertainment was over? Feasts, and business, and pleasures, and enjoyments, seem great things to us, whilst we think of nothing else; but as soon as we add death to them, they all sink into an equal littleness; and the soul, that is separated from the body, no more laments the loss of business, than the losing of a feast.

If I am now going into the joys of God, could there be any reason to grieve, that this happened to me before I was forty years of age? Could it be a sad thing to go to heaven, before I had made a few more bargains, or stood a little longer behind a counter?

And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could there be any reason to be content, that this did not happen to me till I was old, and full of riches? If good angels were ready to receive my soul, could it be any grief to me, that I was dying upon a poor bed in a garret?

And if God has delivered me up to evil spirits, to be dragged by them to places of torment, could it be any comfort to me, that they found me upon a bed of state?

11. When you are as near death as I am, you will know, that all the different states of life, whether of youth or age, riches or poverty, greatness or meanness, signify no more to you, than whether you die in a poor or stately apartment.

The greatness of those things which follow death, makes all that go before it sink into nothing.

Now that everlasting happiness or misery is come so near, all the enjoyments and prosperities of life seem as vain and insignificant, and to have no more to do with my happiness than the cloaths I wore before I could speak.

But, my friends, how am I surprized, that I have not always had these thoughts? For what is there in the terrors of death, in the vanities of life, or the necessities of piety, but what I might have as easily and fully seen in any part of my life?

What a strange thing is it, that a little health, or the poor business of a shop, should keep us so senseless of these great things that are coming so fast upon us!

12. Just as you came into my chamber, I was thinking with myself, what numbers of souls there are now in the world, in my condition at this very time, surprized with a summons to the other world; some taken from their shops and farms, others from their sports and pleasures, these at suits at law, those at gaming-tables, some on the road, others at their own fire-sides, and all seized at an hour when they thought not of it; frighted at the approach of death, confounded at the vanity of all their labours, designs and projects, astonished at the folly of their past lives, and not knowing which way to turn their thoughts, to find any comfort; their consciences flying in their faces, bringing all their sins to remembrance, presenting them with the sight of the angry Judge, the worm that never dies, the fire that is never quenched, the gates of hell, the powers of darkness, and the bitter pains of eternal death.

Oh my friends! bless God that you are not of this number, that you have time and strength so to employ yourselves, as may bring you peace at the last.

13. You, perhaps when you consider that I have lived free from scandal and debauchery, and in the communion of the church, wonder to see me so full of remorse and self-condemnation at the approach of death.

It is true, I have lived in the communion of the church, and frequented its service on Sundays, when I was not too idle, or otherwise disposed of by my business and pleasures: but then, my conformity to the public worship has been rather a thing of course, than from any real intention of glorifying God; had it been so, I had been more devout when there, and more fearful of ever neglecting it.

14. But the thing that now surprizes me above all wonders, is this, that I never had so much as a general intention of living up to the piety of the gospel. This never so much as entered into my heart. I never once in my life considered, whether my way of life was such as would procure me the mercy of God at this hour.

How easy a thing would salvation be, if it could fall into my careless hands, who have never had so much serious thought ♦about it, as about any one common bargain that I have made?

♦ duplicate word removed ‘about’

Do you think any thing can astonish and confound a dying man like this? What pain do you think a man must feel, when his conscience lays all this folly to his charge, when it shews him how regular, exact, and wise he has been in small matters, that are passed away like a dream, and how stupid and senseless he has lived without any reflection, in things of such eternal moment, as no heart can sufficiently conceive them?

Oh my friends! a careless life, unconcerned and inattentive to the duties of religion, is so without all excuse, so unworthy of the mercy of God, such a shame to the sense and reason of our minds, that I can hardly conceive a greater punishment, than for a man to be thrown into the state that I am in, to reflect upon it.

Penitens was here going on, but had his mouth stopped by a convulsion, which never suffered him to speak any more. He lay convulsed for about twelve hours, and then gave up the ghost.

CHAP. V.

Persons that are free from the necessity of labour and employments, are to consider themselves as devoted to God in a higher degree.

1.GREAT part of the world are free from the necessities of labour, and have their time and fortunes in their own disposal.

But as no one is to live in his employment according to his own humour, or to please his own fancy, but is to do all his business in such a manner as to make it a service unto God; so those who have no particular employment, are so far from being left at liberty to live to themselves, to pursue their own humours, and spend their time and fortune as they please, that they are under greater obligations of living wholly unto God in all their actions.

The freedom of their state lays them under a greater necessity of always chusing and doing the best things.

They are those, of whom much will be required, because much is given unto them.

A slave can only live unto God in one particular way; that is, by religious patience and submission in his state of slavery.

But all ways of holy living, all instances, and all kinds of virtue, lie open to those who are masters of themselves, their time, and their fortune.

It is as much the duty, therefore, of such persons, to make a wise use of their liberty, to devote themselves to all kinds of virtue, to aspire after every thing that is holy and pious, and to please God in the highest and most perfect manner, as it is the duty of a slave to be resigned unto God in his state of slavery.

2. You are no labourer, or tradesman; you are neither merchant nor soldier; consider yourself therefore as placed in a state, in some degree like that of good angels, who are sent into the world as ministring spirits, for the general good of mankind, to assist, protect, and minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation.

For the more you are free from the common necessities of men, the more you are to imitate the higher perfections of angels.

Had you, Serena, been obliged to wash cloaths for your maintenance, or to wait upon some mistress, that demanded all your labour, it would be your duty to glorify God, by such humility, obedience, and faithfulness, as might adorn that state of life.

It would then be recommended to your care, to improve that one talent to its greatest height; that when the time came for mankind to be rewarded for their labours by the great Judge of the quick and dead, you might be received with a well done good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.

But as God has given you five talents, as he has placed you above the necessities of life, as he has left you in the happy liberty of chusing the most exalted ways of virtue; as he has left you nothing to do, but to make the best use of variety of blessings, to make the best of a short life, to study your own perfection, the honour of God, and the good of your neighbour; so it is now your duty to enquire how the most eminent saints have lived, to study all the arts and methods of perfection, and to set no bounds to your love and gratitude to the bountiful author of so many blessings.

3. It is now your duty to turn your five talents into five more, and to consider how your time, and leisure, and health, and fortune may be made so many happy means of purifying your own soul, improving your fellow-creatures, and of carrying you at last to the greatest heights of eternal glory.

As you have no mistress to serve, so let your own soul be the object of your daily care and attendance.

Nourish it with good works, give it peace in solitude, get it strength in prayer, make it wise with reading, enlighten it by meditation, make it tender with love, sweeten it with humility, enliven it with psalms and hymns, and comfort it with frequent reflections upon future glory. Keep it in the presence of God, and teach it to imitate those guardian angels; which tho’ they attend on the lowest of mankind, yet always behold the face of our Father which is in heaven.

This, Serena, is your profession. For as sure as God is one God, so sure it is, that he has but one command to all mankind, whether they be bond or free, rich or poor; and that is, to act up to the excellency of their nature, to live by reason, to walk in the light of religion, to glorify God in all his gifts, and dedicate every condition of life to his service.

This is the one common command of God to all mankind. If you have an employment, you are to be thus reasonable, and holy in the exercise of it; if you have time and a fortune in your own power, you are to be thus reasonable, and holy, in the use of all your time and all your fortune.

4. The right use of every talent, is the indispensable duty of every being that is capable of knowing right or wrong.

For the reason why we are to do any thing as unto God, and with regard to our relation to him, is the same reason why we are to do every thing as unto God, and with regard to this relation.

That which is a reason for our being wise and holy in the discharge of all our business, is the same reason for our being wise and holy in the use of all our money.

*As we have always the same natures, and are every where the servants of the same God; as every place is equally full of his presence, and every thing is equally his gift; so we must do every thing as the servants of God; we must live in every place, as in his presence; we must use every thing as that ought to be used which belongs to God.

Either this wisdom, and devotion is to go thro’ every way of life, or it is to go through no part of life.

If we might forget ourselves, or forget God; if we might live by humour or fancy in any thing, or at any time, or in any place, it would be as lawful to do the same in every thing, and every time, and every place.

5. If therefore some people, fancy, that they must be grave and solemn at church, but may be silly and frantic at home; that they must live by some rule on the Sunday, but may spend other days by chance; that they must have some times of prayer, but may waste the rest of their time as they please; that they must give some money in charity, but may squander away the rest as they have a mind; such people have not considered the nature of religion, or the true reasons of piety. For he that, upon principles of reason, can tell why it is good to be wise and heavenly-minded at church, can tell that ’tis good to have the same tempers in all other places. He that knows why he should spend any time well, knows it is never allowable to throw any time away. He that rightly understands the reasonableness of charity, will know that it can never be excusable, to waste any of our money in pride and folly, or in any needless expences.

For every argument that shews the wisdom of charity, proves the wisdom of spending all our fortune well. Every argument that proves the reasonableness of having times of prayer, shews the reasonableness of losing none of our time.

6. *If any one can shew, that we need not always act in the divine presence, that we need not use every thing as the gift of God, that we need not always live by reason, and make religion the rule of all our actions, the same arguments would shew, that we need never act as in the presence of God, nor make religion and reason the measure of any of our actions. If therefore we are to live to God at any time, or in any place, we are to live unto him at all times, and in all places. If we are to use any thing as the gift of God, we are to use every thing as his gift. If we are to do any thing by strict rules of reason and piety, we ought to do every thing in the same manner; because reason, and wisdom, and piety are as much the best things at all times, and in all places, as they are the best things at any time, or in any place.

If it is our glory and happiness to have a rational nature, that is endued with wisdom and reason, that is capable of imitating the divine nature; then it must be our glory and happiness, to improve our reason and wisdom, to act up to the excellency of our rational nature, and to imitate God in all our actions. They, therefore, who confine their religion to times and places, and some little rules of retirement, who think that it is being too strict to introduce religion into common life, and make it give laws to all their actions and ways of living; they who think thus, not only mistake, but they mistake the whole nature of religion, who can think any part of their life is more easy, for being free from it. They may well be said to mistake the whole nature of wisdom, who don’t think it desirable to be always wise. He has not learned the nature of piety, who thinks it too much to be pious in all his actions. He does not sufficiently understand what reason is, who does not earnestly desire to live in every thing according to it.

If we had a religion that consisted in absurd superstitions, that had no regard to the perfection of our nature, people might well be glad to have some part of their life excused from it: but as the religion of the gospel is only the refinement of our best faculties, as it only requires a life of the highest reason, as it only requires us to use this world, as in reason it ought to be used, to live in such tempers as are the glory of intelligent beings, to walk in such wisdom as exalts our nature, and to practise such piety as will raise us to God; who can think it grievous, to live always in the spirit of such a religion, to have every part of his life full of it, but he that would think it much more grievous, to be as the angels of God in heaven?

7. Farther, as God is one and the same being, always acting like himself, and suitable to his own nature; so it is the duty of every being that he has created, to live according to the nature that he has given it, and always to act like itself.

It is therefore an immutable law of God, that all rational beings should act reasonably in all their actions; not at this time, or in that place, or upon this occasion, or in the use of some particular thing; but at all times, in all places, at all occasions, and in the use of all things.

When, therefore, any being that is endued with reason, does an unreasonable thing at any time, or in any place, or in the use of any thing, it sins against the great law of its nature, and against God the author of that nature.

They, therefore, who plead for any foolish fashions, customs and humours, for the misuse of our time or money, plead for a rebellion against our nature, for a rebellion against God, who has given us reason for no other end, than to make it the rule and measure of all our ways of life.

8. When, therefore, you are guilty of any folly or extravagance, or indulge any vain temper, don’t consider it as a small matter; but consider it as it is, acting contrary to your nature; and then you will see that there is nothing small that is unreasonable, because all unreasonable ways are contrary to the nature of all rational beings.

The infirmities of human life make such food and raiment necessary for us as angels do not want; but it is no more allowable for us to turn these necessities into follies, and indulge ourselves in the luxury of food, or the vanities of dress, than it is allowable for angels to act below the dignity of their proper state. For a reasonable life, is as much the duty of all men, as it is the duty of all angels. These are not speculative flights, but plain and undeniable laws, that are founded in the nature of rational beings, who, as such, are obliged to live by reason, and glorify God by a continual right use of their several talents. So that tho’ men are not angels; yet they may know by what rules men are to act, by considering the state of angels. Our blessed Saviour has plainly turned our thoughts this way, by making this petition, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. A plain proof, that the obedience of men is to imitate the obedience of angels; and that rational beings on earth are to live unto God, as rational beings in heaven live unto him.

9. When, therefore, you would represent to your mind how Christians ought to live unto God, and by what degrees of wisdom and holiness they ought to use the things of this life, you must not look at the world; but you must look up to the society of angels, and think what wisdom and holiness is fit to prepare you for such a state of glory. You must look to all the highest precepts of the gospel; you must examine yourself by the Spirit of Christ; you must think how departed souls would live, if they were again to act the short part of human life; and what degrees of wisdom and holiness you will wish for when you are leaving the world.

10. And as Christianity consecrates all states and employments to God, as it requires us to aspire after universal obedience, doing and using every thing as the servants of God; so are we more especially obliged to observe this exactness in the use of our estates and fortunes.

The reason is plain, if we only consider, that our estate is as much the gift of God, as our eyes, or our hands, and is no more to be buried, or thrown away at pleasure, than we are to pull out our eyes, or throw away our limbs.

But besides this consideration, there are several other important reasons why we should be exact in the use of our estates.

11. *First, because the manner of using our money, enters so far into the business of every day, and makes so great a part of our common life, that our common life must be much of the same nature, as our common way of spending our estate. If reason and religion govern us in this, then reason and religion have got great hold of us; but if humour, pride, and fancy are the measures of our spending our estate, then humour, pride, and fancy will have the direction of the greatest part of our life.

12. Another reason is, because our money is capable of being used to the most excellent purposes, and is so great a means of doing good. If we waste it, we don’t waste a trifle that signifies little; but we waste that which might be as eyes to the blind, as a husband to the widow, as a father to the orphan. If a man had eyes, and hands, and feet, that he could give to those that wanted them; if he should either lock them up in a chest, or please himself with some needless or ridiculous use of them, instead of giving them to his brethren that were blind and lame, should we not justly reckon him an inhuman wretch? If he should rather chuse to amuse himself with furnishing his house with those things, than to intitle himself to an eternal reward, by giving them to those that wanted eyes and hands, might we not justly reckon him mad?

Now money has much the nature of eyes and feet: if we either lock it up in chests, or waste it in needless and ridiculous expences whilst the poor and the distressed want it for their necessary uses; if we consume it in the ridiculous ornaments of apparel, whilst others are starving in nakedness, we are not far from the cruelty of him that chuses rather to adorn his house with the hands and eyes, than to give them to those that want them. If we indulge ourselves in such expensive enjoyments, to satisfy no real want, rather than to entitle ourselves to an eternal reward, by disposing of our money well, we are guilty of his madness, that rather chuses to lock up eyes and hands, than to make himself for ever blessed, by giving them to those that want them.

13. *Thirdly, if we waste our money, we are not only guilty of making that useless, which is so powerful a means of doing good, but we turn this useful talent into a powerful means of corrupting ourselves; because so far as it is spent wrong, so far it is spent in the support of some wrong temper, in gratifying some vain and unreasonable desires.

*As wit and fine parts cannot be only lost, but expose those that have them to greater follies, if they are not strictly devoted to piety; so money, if it is not used strictly according to reason and religion, cannot only be trifled away, but it will betray people into greater follies, and make them live a more silly and extravagant life, than they would have done without it. If therefore you don’t spend your money in doing good to others, you spend it to the hurt of yourself. You will act like a man that should refuse to give a cordial to a sick friend, tho’ he could not drink it himself without inflaming his blood. For this is the case of superfluous money; if you give it to those that want it, it is a cordial; if you spend it upon yourself, in something that you do not want, it only inflames and disorders your mind, and makes you worse than you would be without it.

14. Consider again the fore-mentioned comparison; if the man that would not make a right use of spare eyes and hands, should, by continually trying to use them himself, spoil his own eyes and hands, we might accuse him of still greater madness.

Now this is truly the case of riches spent upon ourselves in vain and needless expences: in trying to use them where they have no real use, we only use them to our hurt, in creating unreasonable desires, in nourishing ill tempers, in indulging our passions, and supporting a vain turn of mind. For high eating and drinking, fine cloaths, and fine houses, state and equipage, gay pleasures and diversions, do all of them hurt and disorder our hearts; they are the food and nourishment of all the folly and weakness of our nature, and are certain means to make us vain and worldly in our tempers; they are all of them the support of something that ought not to be supported; they are contrary to that sobriety of heart which relisheth divine things; they are like so many weights upon our mind, that make us less able, and less inclined to raise up our thoughts and affections to the things that are above.

So that money, thus spent, is not merely wasted, but spent to bad purposes; to the corruption of our hearts, and make us less able to live up to the doctrines of the gospel. It is like keeping money from the poor, to buy poison for ourselves.

For so much as is spent in the vanity of dress, is so much laid out to fix vanity in our minds. So much as is laid out for idleness and indulgence, is so much given to render our hearts dull and sensual. So much as is spent in state and equipage, is so much spent to dazzle your own eyes, and render you the idol of your own imagination. And so in every thing, when you go from reasonable wants, you only support some unreasonable temper, some turn of mind, which every Christian is called upon to renounce.

So that, whether we consider our fortune as a trust from God, or the great good it enables us to do, or the great harm that it does to ourselves, if idly spent; on all these accounts it is absolutely necessary to make reason and religion the strict rule of using all our fortune.

15. Every exhortation in scripture to satisfy only such wants as God would have satisfied; every exhortation to be spiritual and heavenly, pressing after a glorious change of our nature; every exhortation to love our neighbours as ourselves, is a command to be strictly religious in the use of our money. This use of our worldly goods, is so much the doctrine of the New Testament, that you cannot read a chapter without being taught something of it. I shall only produce one passage of scripture, which is sufficient to justify all that I have said.

When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all his holy angels with him, then he shall sit upon the throne of his glory. And before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats; and he shall set the sheep on his right-hand, but the goats on the left. Then shall the King say unto them on his right-hand, Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked and ye cloathed me: I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall he say unto them on the left-hand, Depart from me ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked, and ye cloathed me not; sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not. These shall go away into everlasting punishment; but the righteous into life eternal.

16. I have quoted this passage at length, because if one looks at the way of the world, one would hardly think Christians had ever read this scripture.

Some people look upon this text only as a general recommendation of occasional works of charity; whereas it shews the necessity, not only of occasional charities, but of such an entire charitable life, as is a continual exercise of all such works of charity as we are able to perform.

You own that there is no salvation but in the performance of these good works. Who is it, therefore, that may be said to have performed these good works? Is it he that has sometime assisted a prisoner, or relieved the poor or sick? This would be as absurd as to say, that he had performed the duties of devotion, who had sometime said his prayers. Is it, therefore, he that has several times done these works of charity? This can no more be said, than he can be said to be the truly just man, who had done acts of justice several times. What is the rule therefore, or measure, of performing these good works?

Now the rule is very plain and easy, and such as is common to every other virtue, as well as to charity. Who is the humble, or meek, or just, or faithful man? Is it he that has several times done acts of humility, meekness, justice, or fidelity? No; but it is he that lives in the habitual exercise of these virtues. In like manner, he only can be said to have performed those works of charity, who lives in the habitual exercise of them to the utmost of his power. He only has performed the duty of divine love, who loves God with all his heart, and mind, and strength. And he only has performed the duty of these good works, who has done them with all his heart, and mind, and strength. For there is no other measure of our doing good, than our power of doing it.

17. The apostle Peter puts this question to our blessed Saviour, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him, till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times seven. Not as if after this number of offences, a man might then cease to forgive; but the expression is to shew us, that we are not to bound our forgiveness by any number of offences, but are to continue forgiving the most repeated offences against us. If therefore a man ceases to forgive his brother, because he has forgiven him often already: if he excuses himself from forgiving this man, because he has forgiven several others, such a one breaks this law of Christ, concerning the forgiving one’s brother.

Now the rule of forgiving is also the rule of giving. You are not to give, or do good to seven, but to seventy times seven. You are not to cease from giving, because you have given often to the same person, or to other persons; but must account yourself as much obliged to continue relieving those that continue in want, as you was obliged to relieve them once or twice. Had it not been in your power, you had been excused from relieving any person once; but if it is in your power to relieve people often, it is as much your duty to do it often as it is the duty of others to do it but seldom, because they are but seldom able.

18. And the reason of all this is plain; there is the same necessity of being charitable at one time as at another. It is as much the best use of our money, to be always doing good with it, as it is the best use of it at any particular time; so that that which is a reason for a charitable action, is as good a reason for a charitable life; for charity has nothing to recommend it to-day, but what will be the same recommendation of it to-morrow; and you cannot neglect it at one time, without being guilty of the same sin as if you neglected it at another time. As sure, therefore, as these works of charity are necessary to salvation, so sure is it that we are to do them to the utmost of our power; not to-day, or to-morrow, but through the whole course of our life. If therefore it be our duty at any time to deny ourselves any needless expences, that we may have to give to those that want, it is as much our duty to do so at all times, that we may be able to do more good: for if it is at any time a sin to prefer needless expence to works of charity, it is so at all times. If it is ever necessary to take care of these works of charity, and to see that we make ourselves in some degree capable of doing them; it is as necessary to take care to make ourselves as capable as we can be, of performing them in all the parts of our life.

19. Either therefore you must say, that you need never perform any of these good works; or you must own, that you are to perform all your life in as high a degree as you are able. There is no middle way any more than there is a middle way between temperance and intemperance. If you do not strive to fulfil all charitable works, if you neglect any of them that are in your power, let it be when it will, or where it will, you number yourself amongst those that want Christian charity; because it is as much your duty to do good with all that you have, as it is your duty to be temperate in all that you eat or drink.

20. Hence appears the necessity of renouncing all those foolish and unreasonable expences, which the folly of mankind has made so common and fashionable in the world. For if it is necessary to do good works as far as you are able, it must be as necessary to renounce those needless ways of spending money, which render you unable to do works of charity.

You must therefore no more conform to these ways of the world, than you must conform to the vices of the world. You must no more spend with those that idly waste their money as their own humour leads them, than you must drink with the drunken; because a course of such expences is no more consistent with a life of charity, than excess in drinking is consistent with a life of sobriety. When therefore any one tells you of the lawfulness of expensive apparel, or the innocency of pleasing yourself with costly satisfactions, only imagine that the same person was to tell you, that you need not do works of charity, that Christ does not require you to do good to your poor brethren, as unto him, and then you will see the wickedness of such advice; for, to tell you that you may live in such expences, as make it impossible for you to live in the exercise of good works, is the same thing as telling you, that you need not have any care about such good works themselves.

CHAP. VII.

How the wise and pious use of an estate carrieth us to all the virtues of the Christian life; represented in the character of Miranda.

1.MIRANDA (the sister of Flavia) is a sober, reasonable Christian. As soon as she was mistress of her time and fortune, it was her first thought how she might best fulfil every thing that God required of her in the use of them, and make the best use of this short life. She depends upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath said, that there is but one thing needful; and therefore makes her whole life but one continual labour after it. She has but one reason for doing, or not doing, for liking, or not liking any thing; and that is, the will of God. She is not so weak as to pretend to add, what is called the fine lady, to the true Christian; Miranda thinks too well, to be taken with the sound of such silly words. She has renounced the world, to follow Christ in the exercise of humility, charity, devotion, abstinence, and heavenly affections; and that is Miranda’s fine breeding.

Whilst she was under her mother, she was forced to live in ceremony, to sit up late at nights, to be in the folly of every fashion, to go loaded with finery to the holy sacrament, to be in every polite conversation, to hear prophaneness at the play-house, and wanton songs and love-intrigues at the opera, to dance at public places, that fops and rakes might admire the fineness of her shape, and the beauty of her motions. The remembrance of this way of life, makes her exceeding careful to maintain a contrary behaviour.

2. Miranda does not divide her duty between God, her neighbour, and herself; but she considers all as due to God, and so does every thing for his sake. This makes her consider her fortune as the gift of God, that is to be used, as every thing is that belongs to God, for the wise and reasonable ends of a Christian life. Her fortune therefore is divided betwixt herself and several other poor people, and she has only her part of relief from it. She thinks it the same folly to indulge herself in needless expences, as to give to other people to spend in the same way; therefore, as she will not give a poor man money to go see a puppet shew; neither will she allow herself any to spend in the same manner, thinking it very proper to be as wise herself as she expects poor men should be. For is it a folly and a crime in a poor man, says Miranda, to waste what is given him in trifles, whilst he wants meat, drink, and cloaths? And is it less folly, or a less crime in me, to spend that money in silly diversions, which might be so much better spent in imitation of the divine goodness, in works of kindness to my fellow-creatures? If a poor man’s own necessities are a reason why he should not waste any of his money idly, surely the necessities of the poor, and the excellency of charity, is a much greater reason why no one should waste any of his money. For if he does so, he does not only, like the poor man, waste that which he wants himself; but that which is wanted for the most noble uses, and which Christ himself is ready to receive at his hands. And if we are angry at a poor man, when he throws away that which should buy his own bread, how must we appear in the sight of God, if we make a wanton idle use of that which would buy bread and cloaths for our hungry and naked brethren, who are as near and dear to God as we are, and fellow-heirs of the same glory? This is the spirit of Miranda: she is only one of a certain number of poor people that are relieved out of her fortune; and she only differs from them in the blessedness of giving.

3. If you was to see her, you would wonder what poor body it was, that was so surprizingly neat and clean. She has but one rule in her dress, to be always clean, and in the cheapest things. Every thing about her resembles the purity of her soul; and she is always clean without, because she is always pure within.

Every morning sees her early at her prayers. She rejoices in the beginning of every day, because it begins all her rules of holy living, and brings the fresh pleasure of repeating them. She is as guardian angel to those that dwell about her, with her watchings and prayers, blessing the place where she dwells, and making intercession with God for those that are asleep.

Her devotions have had some intervals; before the light is suffered to enter into her sister’s room. Miranda does not know what it is to have a dull half-day; the returns of her hours of prayer, and her religious exercises, comes too often to let any considerable part of time lie heavy upon her hands.

4. When you see her at work, you see the same wisdom that governs all her other actions. She is either doing something that is necessary for herself, or necessary for others who want to be assisted. There is scarce a poor family in the neighbourhood, but wears something or other that has had the labour of her hands. Her pious mind neither wants the amusement, nor can bear with the folly of idle impertinent work. When there is no useful or charitable work to be done, Miranda will work no more.

At her table she lives strictly by this rule of holy scripture, Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. This makes her begin and end every meal, as she begins and ends every day, with acts of devotion. She eats and drinks only for the sake of living, and with so regular an abstinence, that every meal is an exercise of self-denial. If Miranda was to run a race for her life, she would submit to a diet that was proper for it; but as the race which is set before her, is a race of holiness and heavenly affection, which she is to finish in a disordered body of earthly passions; so her every day diet has this one end, to make her body fitter for this spiritual race. She does not weigh her meat in a pair of scales; but she weighs it in a much better ballance: so much as gives a proper strength to her body, and renders it able and willing to obey the soul, to join in psalms and prayers, and lift up eyes and hands towards heaven with greater readiness, so much is Miranda’s meal. So that Miranda will never have her eyes swell with fatness, till she has changed her religion.

5. The holy scriptures, especially of the New Testament, are her daily study; these she reads with a watchful attention, constantly casting an eye upon herself, and trying herself by every doctrine that is there. When she has the New Testament in her hand, she supposes herself at the feet of our Saviour and his apostles; and makes every thing that she learns of them so many laws of her life. She receives their words with as much attention and reverence, as if she saw their persons, and knew that they were just come from heaven, on purpose to teach her the way that leads to it.

She thinks that the trying herself every day by the scripture, is the only way to be ready for her trial at the last day.

Of all human writings, the lives of pious persons, and eminent saints, are her greatest delight. In these she searches as for hidden treasure, hoping to find some secret of holy living, some uncommon degree of piety, which she may make her own. By this means Miranda has her head and heart stored with all the principles of wisdom and holiness. She is so full of the one business of life, that she finds it difficult to converse upon any other subject; and if you are in her company, you must be made wiser and better, whether you will or no.

6. To relate her charity, would be to relate the history of every day for twenty years; for so long has all her fortune been spent that way. She has set up near twenty poor tradesmen that had failed in their business, and saved as many from failing. She has educated several poor children, that were picked up in the streets, and put them in an honest employment. As soon as any labourer is confined at home with any sickness, she sends him, till he recovers, twice the value of his wages, that he may have one part to give to his family, as usual, and the other to provide things convenient for his sickness.

If a family seems too large to be supported by the labour of those that can work in it, she pays their rent, and gives them something yearly towards their cloathing. By this means there are many poor families that live in a comfortable manner, and are from year to year blessing her in their prayers. If there is any poor man or woman that is more than ordinary wicked, Miranda has her eye upon them: she watches their time of adversity; and if she can discover they are in straits or affliction, she gives them speedy relief. She has this care for this sort of people, because she once saved a profligate person from being carried to prison, who immediately became a true penitent.

7. There is nothing in the character of Miranda more to be admired than this temper. For this tenderness towards the most abandoned sinners, is the highest instance of a godlike soul.

Miranda once passed by a house, where the man and his wife were cursing and swearing at one another in a most dreadful manner, and three children crying about them. This sight so much affected her compassionate mind, that she went the next day, and bought the three children, that they might not be ruined by living with such wicked parents. They now live with Miranda, are blessed with her care and prayers, and all the good works which she can do for them. They hear her talk, they see her live, they join with her in psalms and prayers. The eldest of them has already converted his parents from their wicked life, and shews a turn of mind so remarkably pious, that Miranda intends him for holy orders; that being thus saved himself, he may do to other miserable objects, as she has done to him.

Miranda is a constant relief to poor people in their misfortunes and accidents. There are sometimes little misfortunes that happen to them, which of themselves they could never be able to overcome. The death of a cow, or a horse, or some little robbery, would keep them in distress all their lives. She does not suffer them to grieve under such accidents. She immediately gives them the full value of their loss, and makes use of it as a means of raising their minds to God.

She has a great tenderness for old people that are past their labour. The parish allowance to such is seldom a comfortable maintenance. For this reason they are the constant objects of her care. She adds so much to their allowance, as somewhat exceeds the wages they got when they were young. This she does to comfort the infirmities of their age, that, being free from trouble, they may serve God in peace. She has generally a large number of this kind, who, by her charities and exhortations, spend their last days in great piety.

♦9. Miranda never wants compassion, even to common beggars; especially those that are old or sick, or that want eyes or limbs. She hears their complaints with tenderness, gives them some proof of her kindness, and never rejects them with hard or reproachful language, for fear of adding affliction to her fellow creatures.

♦ Number 8 omitted in text.

If a poor traveller tells her, that he has neither strength, nor food, nor money left, she never bids him go to the place from whence he came, or tells him, that she cannot relieve him, because he may be a cheat, and she does not know him; but she relieves him for that reason, because he is a stranger, and unknown to her. For it is the most noble part of charity, to be kind to those whom we never saw before, and perhaps never may see again in this life. I was a stranger, and ye took me in, saith our blessed Saviour; but who can perform this duty, that will not relieve persons that are unknown to him?

Miranda considers, that Lazarus was a common beggar; that he was the care of angels, and carried into Abraham’s bosom. She considers, that our blessed Saviour and his apostles were kind to beggars; that they spoke comfortably to them, healed their diseases, and restored eyes and limbs to the blind and lame; that Peter said to the beggar that wanted an alms from him, Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, give I thee; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk. Miranda therefore never treats beggars with disregard and aversion; but imitates the kindness of our Saviour and his apostles towards them; and tho’ she cannot, like them, work miracles for their relief, yet she relieves them with that power that she hath; and may say with the apostle, such as I have give I thee, in the name of Jesus Christ.

It may be, says Miranda, that I may often give to those that do not deserve it, or that will make an ill use of my alms. But what then? Is not this the very method of divine goodness? Does not God make his sun to rise on the evil and on the good? Is not this the very goodness that is recommended to us in scripture, that by imitating of it, we may be children of our Father which is in heaven, who sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust? And shall I with-hold a little money or food from my fellow-creature, for fear he should not be good enough to receive it of me? Do I beg of God to deal with me, not according to my merit, but according to his own goodness; and shall I be so absurd, as to with-hold my charity from a poor brother, because he may perhaps not deserve it? Shall I use a measure towards him, which I pray God never to use towards me?

Besides, where has the scripture made merit the rule or measure of charity? On the contrary, the scripture saith, If thy enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.

Now this plainly teaches us, that the merit of persons is to be no rule of our charity, but that we are to do acts of kindness to those that least of all deserve it. For if I am to love and do good to my worst enemies; notwithstanding all their spite and malice, surely merit is no measure of charity. If I am not to with-hold my charity from such bad people, surely I am not to deny alms to poor beggars, whom I do not know to be bad people.

♦11. You will perhaps say, that by this means I encourage people to be beggars. But the same thoughtless objection may be made against all kinds of charities, for they may encourage people to depend upon them. The same may be said against forgiving our enemies, for it may encourage people to do us hurt. The same may be said, even against the goodness of God, that by pouring his blessings on the evil and on the good, on the just and on the unjust, evil and unjust men are encouraged in their wicked ways. The same may be said against cloathing the naked, or giving medicines to the sick, for that may encourage people to neglect themselves, and be careless of their health. But when the love of God dwelleth in you, and has filled you with bowels of mercy, you will make no more such objections as these.

♦ Number 10 omitted in text.

When you are at any time turning away the poor, the old, the sick and helpless traveller, the lame, or the blind, ask yourself this question, Do I sincerely wish these poor creatures may be as happy as Lazarus, that was carried by angels into Abraham’s bosom? Do I sincerely desire that God would make them fellow-heirs with me in eternal glory? Now if you search into your soul, you will find that there is none of these motions there, that you are wishing nothing of this. For it is impossible for any one heartily to wish a poor creature so great a happiness, and yet not have a heart to give him a small alms. For this reason, says Miranda, as far as I can, I give to all, because I pray to God to forgive all; and I cannot refuse an alms to those whom I pray God to bless, whom I wish to be partakers of eternal glory; but am glad to shew some degree of love to such, as, I hope, will be the objects of the infinite love of God. And if, as our Saviour has assured us, it be more blessed to give than to receive, we ought to look upon those that ask our alms, as so many friends and benefactors that come to do us a greater good than they can receive; that come to be witnesses of our charity, to be monuments of our love, to appear for us at the day of judgment, and to help us to a blessedness greater than our alms can bestow on them.

12. This is the spirit, and this is the life of Miranda; and if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent sixty hundred pounds in charity; for that which she allows herself, may fairly be reckoned among her alms.

When she dies, she must shine amongst apostles, and saints, and martyrs; she must stand among the first servants of God, and be glorious among those that have fought the good fight, and finished their course with joy.

13. Now this life of Miranda, however contrary to the fashion of the world, is yet suitable to the true spirit of Christianity.

To live as she does, is as truly suitable to the gospel of Christ, as to be baptized, or receive the sacrament.

Her spirit is that which animated the saints of former ages; and it is because they lived as she does, that we now celebrate their memories, and praise God for their examples.

There is nothing whimsical, trifling, or unreasonable in her character; but every thing there described, is a proper instance of solid piety.

14. It is as easy to shew, that it is whimsical to go to church, as that it is whimsical to observe any of these rules. For all Miranda’s rules of living to God, of spending her time and fortune, of eating, working, dressing, and conversing, are as substantial parts of an holy life, as devotion and prayer.

For there is nothing to be said for the wisdom of devotion, but what is as good an argument for the wise and reasonable use of apparel.

If you fancy that it is your only folly, and that therefore there can be no great matter in it, you are like those that think they are only guilty of the folly of covetousness or ambition. Now though some people may live so plausible a life, as to appear chargeable with no other fault than covetousness or ambition; yet the case is not as it appears, for covetousness or ambition cannot subsist in a heart that is in other respects rightly devoted to God.

In like manner, though some may spend most that they have in needless ornaments, and yet seem in other respects truly pious, yet it is certainly false; for it is impossible for a mind that is in a true state of religion, to be vain in the use of cloaths. Now to convince you of this, let us suppose that some eminent saint, for instance, the Virgin Mary was sent into the world for a few years, and that you was going to her to be edified by her piety, would you expect to find her dressed out and adorned in fine and expensive cloaths? No: you would know in your own mind, that it was as impossible as to find her learning to dance. Do but add saint, or holy, to any person, either man or woman, and your own mind tells you immediately, that such a character cannot admit of the vanity of fine apparel. A saint finely dressed, is as great nonsense, as an apostle in an embroidered suit. Every one’s own natural sense convinces him of the inconsistency of these things.

♦16. Now what is the reason, that when you think of a saint, you cannot admit the vanity of apparel? Is it not because it is inconsistent with such a right state of heart? And is not this a demonstration, that where such vanity is admitted, there a right state of heart is wanted? For as certainly as the Virgin Mary could not indulge herself, or conform to the vanity of the world in dress and figure; so certain is it, that none can indulge themselves in this vanity, but those who want her piety of heart; and consequently it must be owned, that all needless and expensive finery is the effect of a disordered heart.

♦ Number 15 omitted in text.

Covetousness is not a crime, because there is any harm in gold or silver; but because it is a foolish and unreasonable state of mind, that is fallen from its true good, and sunk into such a poor and wretched satisfaction.

In like manner, the expensive finery of dress is not a crime, because there is any thing good or evil in cloaths, but because the expensive ornaments of cloathing shews a foolish and unreasonable state of heart, that is fallen from right notions of human nature, and turns the necessities of life into so many instances of pride and folly.

17. This therefore is the way that you are to judge of the crime of vain apparel: it is an offence against the proper use of cloaths, as covetousness is an offence against the proper use of money: it is an indulgence of proud and unreasonable tempers, an offence against the humility and sobriety of the Christian spirit: it is an offence against all those doctrines that require you to do all to the glory of God, and an offence against all those texts of scripture, that command you to love your neighbour as yourself, to feed the hungry, to cloath the naked, and do all works of charity that you are able. So that you must not deceive yourself with saying, where can be the harm of cloaths? For the covetous man might as well say, where can be the harm of gold or silver? But you must consider, that it is a great deal of harm to want that wise and reasonable state of heart, which is according to the spirit of religion, and which no one can have in the manner that he ought to have it, who indulges himself either in the vanity of dress, or the desire of riches.

18. Some persons perhaps, who admire the life of Miranda, may say, how can it be proposed as a common example? How can we that are married, or we who are under the direction of our parents, imitate such a life?

It is answered, just as you may imitate the life of our blessed Saviour and his apostles. The circumstances of our Saviour’s life, and the state and condition of his apostles, were more different from yours than that of Miranda is; and yet their life is the common example that is proposed to all Christians.

It is their spirit therefore, their piety, their love of God, that you are to imitate, and not the particular form of their life.

Act under God as they did, direct your common actions to that end which they did, practise such love of God, such charity to your neighbour, such humility and self-denial, as they did; and then, though you are only teaching your own children, and St. Paul is converting nations, yet you are following his steps, and acting after his example.

19. Don’t think therefore, that you can’t or need not be like Miranda, because you are not in her state of life: for as the same spirit and temper would have made Miranda a saint, tho’ she had been forced to labour for a maintenance; so if you will aspire after her spirit, every condition of life will furnish you with sufficient means of employing it.

Miranda is what she is, because she does every thing in the name, and with regard to her duty to God; and when you do the same, you will be exactly like her, though you are never so different in your outward state.

You are married, you say; therefore you have not your time and fortune in your power as she has.

It is true; therefore you cannot spend so much time, nor so much money in the manner that she does.

But Miranda’s perfection does not consist in this, that she spends so much time, or so much money in such a manner, but that she is careful to make the best use of all the time and money which she has. Do you this, and then you are like Miranda.

If she has two hundred pounds a year, and you have only two mites, have you not the more reason to be exceeding exact in the wisest use of it? If she has a great deal of time, and you have but a little, ought you not to be the more watchful and circumspect, lest that little should be lost?

CHAP. VIII.

Shewing that all orders of men and women, of all ages, are obliged to devote themselves to God.

1.I HAVE in the foregoing chapters shewn that all the parts of our common life, our employments, our talents and fortune, are to be made holy and acceptable unto God, by a wise and religious use of every thing, and by directing our actions and designs to the glory of God.

I shall now shew, that this holiness of common life, this religious use of every thing we have, is a devotion that is the duty of all orders of Christian people.

*Fulvius has had a learned education, and taken his degrees in the university; he came from thence, that he might be free from any rules of life. He takes no employment upon him, nor enters into any business, because he thinks that every employment or business calls people to the just discharge of its several duties. He did not enter into holy orders, because he looks upon it to be a state that requires great holiness of life, and it does not suit his temper to be so good. He will tell you that he never intends to marry, because he cannot oblige himself to that regularity of life, which he takes to be the duty of those that are at the head of a family. He refused to be godfather to his nephew, because he will have no trust of any kind to answer for.

Fulvius thinks that he is conscientious in this conduct, and is therefore content with the most idle, impertinent, and careless life.

He has no religion, no devotion, no pretences to piety. He lives by no rules, and thinks all is very well, because he is neither a priest, nor a father, nor a guardian, nor has any employment or family to look after.

2. *But Fulvius, you are a rational creature, and as such, are as much obliged to live according to reason, as a priest is obliged to attend at the altar, or a guardian to be faithful to his trust; if you live contrary to reason, you don’t commit a small crime, you don’t break a small trust; but you break the law of your nature, you rebel against God who gave you that nature, and put yourself among those whom the God of reason will punish as apostates and deserters.

Though you have no employment, yet as you are baptized into the profession of the Christian religion, you are as much obliged to live according to the holiness of the Christian spirit, as any man is obliged to be honest and faithful in his calling. If you abuse this great calling, you are not false in a small matter, but you abuse the precious blood of Christ; you crucify the Son of God afresh; you neglect the highest instances of divine goodness; and it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than for you.

3. It is therefore great folly for any one to think himself at liberty to live as he pleases, because he is not in such a state of life as some others are: for if there is any thing dreadful in the abuse of any trust; if there is any thing to be feared for the neglect of any calling, there is nothing more to be feared than the wrong use of our reason, nor any thing more to be dreaded, than the neglect of our Christian calling; which is not to serve the little uses of a short life, but to redeem souls unto God, to fill heaven with saints, and finish a kingdom of eternal glory.

No man therefore must think himself excused from the exactness of piety, because he has chosen to be idle and independent in the world; for the necessities of a holy life are not founded in the several conditions of this life, but in the immutable nature of God and the nature of man. A man is not to be reasonable and holy, because he is a priest, or a father of a family; but he is to be a pious priest, and a good father, because piety and goodness are the laws of human nature. Could any man please God, without living according to reason and order, there would be nothing displeasing to God in an idle priest or a reprobate father. He therefore that abuses his reason, is like him that abuses the priesthood; and he that neglects the holiness of the Christian life, is as the man that disregards the most important trust.

4. If a man was to chuse to put out his eyes, rather than enjoy the light, and see the works of God; if he should voluntarily kill himself, by refusing to eat and drink, every one would own that such a one was a rebel against God, that justly deserved his highest indignation. You would not say, that this was only sinful in a priest, or a master of a family, but in every man as such.

Now wherein does the sinfulness of this behaviour consist? Does it not consist in this, that he abuses his nature, and refuses to act that part for which God had created him? But if this be true, then all persons that abuse their reason, that act a different part from that for which God created them, are like this man, rebels against God, and on the same account subject to his wrath.

*Let us suppose that this man, instead of putting out his eyes, had only employed them in looking at ridiculous things, or shut them up in sleep; that instead of starving himself to death, by not eating at all, he should turn every meal into a feast, and eat and drink like an epicure, could he be said to have lived more to the glory of God? Could he any more be said to act the part for which God had created him, than if he had put out his eyes, and starved himself to death?

Now do but suppose a man extinguishing his reason, instead of putting out his eyes, and living in a course of folly and impertinence, instead of starving himself to death, and then you have found out as great a rebel against God.

♦6. *If we consider mankind as a redeemed order of fallen spirits, that are baptized into a fellowship with the Son of God; to be temples of the Holy Ghost; to live according to his holy inspirations; to offer to God the reasonable sacrifice of an humble, pious, and thankful life; to purify themselves from the disorders of their fall; to make a right use of the means of grace, in order to be sons of eternal glory: if we look at mankind in this true light, then we shall find, that all tempers that are contrary to this holy society; all actions that make us unlike to Christ, have every thing in them that can make us odious to God. So that tho’ pride and sensuality, do not hurt civil society, as cheating and dishonesty do; yet they hurt that society, and oppose those ends, which are greater and more glorious in the eyes of God, than all the societies that relate to this world.

♦ Number 5 omitted in text.

7. *Nothing therefore can be more foolish, than to imagine, that because we are private persons who have taken upon us no charge or employment, therefore we may live more at large, indulge our appetites, and be less careful of holiness, for it is as good an excuse for cheating and dishonesty; because he that abuses his reason, that indulges himself in lust and sensuality, and neglects to act the wise reasonable part of a Christian, has every thing in his life to render him hateful to God, that is to be found in cheating and dishonesty.

If therefore you rather chuse to be an idle epicure, than to be unfaithful; if you rather chuse to live in lust and sensuality, than to injure your neighbour in his goods, you have made no better a provision for the favour of God, than he that rather chuses to rob a house, than to rob a church.

For the abusing of our own nature, is as great a disobedience against God, as the injuring our neighbour; and he that wants piety towards God, has done as much to damn himself, as he that wants honesty towards men.

8. Another argument to prove that all orders of men are obliged to be thus holy in the common course of their lives, in the use of every thing that they enjoy, may be taken from our obligation to prayer.

It is granted, that prayer is a duty that belongs to all states and conditions of men. Now, if we enquire, why no state of life is to be excused from prayer, we shall find it as good a reason why every state of life is to be made a state of holiness in all its parts.

For the reason why we are to pray to God, and praise him with hymns and psalms of thanksgiving, is because we are to live wholly to God, and glorify him in all possible ways. It is not because the praises of words, or forms of thanksgiving, are more particularly parts of piety, or more the worship of God than other things; but it is because they are possible ways of expressing our dependance, our obedience and devotion to God. Now, if this be the reason of verbal praises and thanksgivings, because we are to live to God in all possible ways; then we are equally obliged to glorify God in all other actions that can be turned into acts of piety and obedience. And as actions are of much more significancy than words, it must be a much more acceptable worship of God to glorify him in all the actions of our common life, than with any little form of words at any particular times.

Thus, if God is to be worshipped with forms of thanksgiving, he that is content and thankful in every accident of his life, because it comes from God, praises God in a much higher manner, than he that has some set times for singing of psalms. He that dares not say an ill-natured word, or do an unreasonable thing, because he considers God as every where present, performs a better devotion than he that dares not miss the church. To live in the world as a stranger and a pilgrim, using all its enjoyments as if we used them not, making all our actions so many steps towards a better life, is offering a better sacrifice to God, than any forms of holy and heavenly prayers.

9. To be humble in all our actions, to avoid every appearance of pride and vanity, to be meek and lowly in our words, actions, dress, behaviour, and designs, in imitation of our blessed Saviour, is worshipping God in a higher manner, than those do who have only times to fall low on their knees. He that contents himself with necessaries, that he may give the remainder to those that want it; that dares not spend any money foolishly, because he considers it as a talent from God, which must be used according to his will, praises God with something more glorious than songs of praise.

Prayers therefore are so far from being a sufficient devotion, that they are the smallest parts of it. We are to praise God with words and prayers, because it is a possible way of glorifying God. But then, as words are but small things in themselves, as times of prayer are but little, if compared with the rest of our lives; so that devotion which consists in times and forms of prayer, is but a very small thing, if compared to that devotion which is to appear in every other part and circumstance of our lives.

10. Again, as it is an easy thing to worship God with forms of words, and to observe times of offering them unto him, so it is the smallest kind of piety.

And, on the other hand, as it is more difficult to worship God with our substance, to honour him with the right use of our time, to offer to him the continual sacrifice of self-denial and mortification; as it requires more piety to eat and drink only for such ends as may glorify God, to undertake no labour, nor allow of any diversion, but where we can act in the name of God; as it is most difficult to sacrifice all our corrupt tempers, and make piety to God the rule and measure of all the actions of our common life; so the devotion of this kind is a much more acceptable service to God, than those words of devotion which we offer to him either in the church or in our closet.

Every sober reader will easily perceive, that I don’t intend to lessen the value of prayers, either public or private; but only to shew him, that they are but a very slender part of devotion, when compared to a devout life.

11. *To see this in a yet clearer light, let us suppose a person to have appointed times for praising God with psalms and hymns, and to be strict in the observation of them; let it be supposed also, that in his common life he is restless and uneasy, full of murmurings and complaints at every thing, never pleased but by chance, but murmuring and repining at the very seasons, and having something to dislike in every thing that happens to him. Now, can you conceive any thing more absurd and unreasonable, than such a character as this? Is such a one to be reckoned thankful to God, because he has forms of praise which he offers to him? Nay, is it not certain, that such forms of praise must be so far from being an acceptable devotion to God, that they must be an abomination? Now the absurdity which you see in this instance, is the same in any other part of our life. If our common life hath any contrariety to our prayers, it is the same abomination, as songs of thanksgiving in the mouths of murmurers.

Bended knees, whilst you are cloathed with pride: heavenly petitions, whilst you are hoarding up treasures upon earth; holy devotions, whilst you live in the follies of the world; prayers of meekness and charity, whilst your heart is the seat of spite and resentment; hours of prayer, whilst you give up days and years to idle diversions, impertinent visits, and foolish pleasures, are as unacceptable a service to God, as forms of thanksgiving from a person that lives in repinings and discontent.

So that unless the common course of our lives be according to the common spirit of our prayers, our prayers are so far from being a sufficient degree of devotion, that they become an empty lip-labour; or, what is worse, a notorious hypocrisy.

12. Seeing therefore we are to make the spirit and temper of our prayers the common spirit and temper of our lives, this may convince us, that all orders of people are to labour after the same utmost perfection of the Christian life. For as all Christians are to use the same holy and heavenly devotions, as they are all with the same earnestness to pray for the Spirit of God; so is it a sufficient proof, that all orders of people are, to the utmost of their power, to make their life agreeable to that one Spirit for which they all pray.

*A soldier, or a tradesman, is not called to minister at the altar, or preach the gospel; but every soldier or tradesman is as much obliged to be devout, humble, holy, and heavenly-minded in all the parts of his common life, as a clergyman is obliged to be zealous, faithful, and laborious in all parts of his profession.

13. *All men therefore, as men, have one and the same important business, to act up to the excellency of their rational nature, and to make reason and order the law of all their designs and actions. All Christians, as Christians, have one and the same calling, to live according to the excellency of the Christian spirit, and to make the sublime precepts of the gospel the rule and measure of all their tempers in common life. The one thing needful to one, is the one thing needful to all.

*The merchant is no longer to hoard up treasures upon earth; the soldier is no longer to fight for glory; the great scholar is no longer to pride himself in the depths of science; but they must all, with one spirit, count all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus.

*The fine lady, must teach her eyes to weep, and be cloathed with humility. The polite gentleman must exchange the gay thoughts of wit and fancy, for a broken and a contrite heart. The man of quality must so far renounce the dignity of his birth, as to think himself miserable till he is born again. Servants must consider their service as done unto God. Masters must consider their servants as their brethren in Christ, that are to be treated as their fellow-members of the mystical body of Christ.

14. *Young ladies must either devote themselves to piety, prayer, self-denial, and all good works in a Virgin state of life, or else marry to be holy, sober, and prudent in the care of a family; bringing up their children in piety, humility, and devotion, and abounding in all other good works, to the utmost of their capacity. They have no choice of any thing else; but must devote themselves to God in one of these states. They may chuse a married, or a single life; but it is not left to their choice, whether they will make either state, a state of holiness, humility, and all other duties of ♦the Christian life. It is no more left in their power, because they have fortunes, or are born of rich parents, to divide themselves betwixt God and the world, or take such pleasures as their fortune will afford them, than to be sometimes chaste and modest, and sometimes not.

♦ ‘he’ replaced with ‘the’

*They are not to consider how much religion may secure them a fair character, or how they may add devotion to an impertinent, vain, and giddy life; but must look into the spirit and temper of their prayers, into the nature and end of ♦Christianity; and then they will find, that whether married or unmarried, they have but one business upon their hands; to be wise, and pious, and holy; not in little modes and forms of worship, but in the whole turn of their minds, in the whole form of their behaviour, and in the daily course of their common life.

♦ ‘Christianiiy’ replaced with ‘Christianity’

15. *Young gentlemen must consider what our blessed Saviour said to the young gentleman in the gospel; he bid him sell all he had, and give to the poor. Now, though this text does not oblige all people to sell all; yet it certainly obliges all kinds of people to employ all their estates in such wise and reasonable ways, as may shew, all they have is devoted to God; and that no part of it is kept from the poor, to be spent in needless, vain, and foolish expences.

*If therefore young gentlemen propose to themselves a life of pleasure and indulgence; if they spend their estates in high living, in luxury and intemperance, in state and equipage, in pleasures and diversions, in sports and gaming, and such like wanton gratifications of their foolish passions, they have as much reason to look upon themselves to be angels, as to be disciples of Christ.

*Let them be assured, that it is the one only business of a Christian gentleman, to distinguish himself by good works, to be eminent in the most sublime virtues of the gospel, to bear with the ignorance and weakness of the vulgar, to be a friend and patron to all that dwell about him, to live in the utmost heights of wisdom and holiness, and shew through the whole course of his life a true religious greatness of mind. They must aspire after such a gentility, as they might have learnt from seeing the blessed Jesus, and shew no other spirit of a gentleman, but such as they might have got by living with the holy apostles. They must learn to love God with all their heart, with all their soul, and with all their strength, and their neighbour as themselves; and then they have all the greatness and distinction that they can have here, and are fit for eternal happiness in heaven.

16. Thus, in all orders and conditions, either of men or women, this is the one holiness, which is to be the common life of all Christians.

The merchant is not to leave devotion to the clergyman, nor the clergyman to leave humility to the labourer. Women of fortune are not to leave it to the poor of their sex, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, to adorn themselves in modest apparel, shame-facedness, and sobriety; nor poor women to leave it to the rich to attend at the worship of God. Great men must be eminent for true poverty of spirit, and people of a low and afflicted state must greatly rejoice in God.

The man of strength and power is to forgive and pray for his enemies, and the innocent sufferer, that is chained in prison, must, with Paul and Silas, at midnight sing praises unto God. For God is to be glorified, holiness is to be practised, and the spirit of religion is to be the common spirit of every Christian in every state and condition of life.

*For the Son of God did not come from above, to add an external form of worship to the several ways of life that are in the world, and so to leave people to live as they did before, in such tempers and enjoyments as the fashion and spirit of the world approves: but as he came down from heaven, altogether divine and heavenly in his own nature; so it was to call mankind to a divine and heavenly life; to the highest change of their whole nature and temper; to be born again of the Holy Spirit; to walk in the wisdom, and light, and love of God, and to be like him to the utmost of their power; to a mortification of their passions; and to live in such wisdom, and holiness, as might fit them to enjoy God to all eternity.

17. Whatever therefore is foolish, vain, or earthly, or sensual in the life of a Christian, is something that ought not to be there. But if any thing of this kind runs through the course of our whole life, if we allow ourselves in things that are either vain, foolish, or sensual, we renounce our profession.

For as sure as Jesus Christ was wisdom and holiness; as sure as he came to make us like himself, so sure is it, that none keep to their Christian profession, but they who, to the utmost of their power, live a wise, and holy, and heavenly life. This, and this alone, is Christianity; universal holiness in every part of life, a heavenly wisdom in all our actions, not conforming to the spirit and temper of the world, but turning all worldly enjoyments into means of piety and devotion.

18. And if it be the happiness and glory of a bishop to live in this Spirit, full of these holy tempers, doing every thing as unto God, it is as much the glory and happiness of all men and women, whether young or old, to live in the same Spirit. And whoever can find any reasons why an ancient bishop should be intent upon divine things, turning all his life into the highest exercises of piety and devotion, will find them so many reasons why he should, to the utmost of his power, do the same himself.

If you say that a bishop must be an eminent example of Christian holiness, because of his high and sacred calling, you say right. But if you say, that it is more to his advantage to be exemplary, than it is yours, you greatly mistake. For there is nothing to make the highest degrees of holiness desirable to a bishop, but what makes them equally desirable to every young person of every family.

For an exalted piety, and the religious use of every thing, is as much the glory and happiness of one state of life as it is of another.

*Do but fancy what a spirit of piety you would have in the best bishop in the world, how you would have him love God, how you would have him imitate the life of our Saviour and his apostles, how you would have him live above the world, shining in all the instances of a heavenly life, and then you have found out that Spirit, which you ought to make the spirit of your own life.

I desire every reader to dwell awhile upon this reflection, and perhaps he will find more conviction from it than he imagines. Every one can tell how good and pious he would have some people to be; every one knows how wise and reasonable a thing it is in a bishop, to be entirely above the world, and be an eminent example of Christian perfection. As soon as you think of a wise and ancient bishop, you fancy some exalted degree of piety, a living example of all those holy tempers which you find described in the gospel.

19. Now if you ask yourself, what is the happiest thing for a young clergyman to do? You must be forced to answer, that nothing can be so happy and glorious for him, as to be like that excellent, holy bishop.

*If you go on, and ask what is the happiest thing for a young gentleman or his sisters to do? The answer must be the same; that nothing can be so happy or glorious for them, as to live in such habits of piety, in such exercises of a divine life, as this good old bishop does. For every thing that is great and glorious in religion, is as much the true glory of every man or woman, as it is the glory of any bishop. If high degrees of divine love, if fervent charity, if spotless purity, if heavenly affection, if constant mortification, if frequent devotion, be the best and happiest way of life for any Christian, it is so for every Christian.

And as the wisest bishop in the world is he who lives in the greatest heights of holiness, who is most exemplary in all the exercises of a divine life; so the wisest youth, the wisest woman, whether married or unmarried, is she that lives in the highest degrees of Christian holiness, and all the exercises of a divine and heavenly life.

CHAP. IX.

Shewing how great devotion fills our lives with the greatest peace and happiness that can be enjoyed in this world.

1.SOME people will perhaps object, that this living unto God in all that we do, is too great a restraint upon human life; and that, by depriving ourselves of so many innocent pleasures, we shall render our lives, dull, uneasy, and melancholy.

*It will produce just the contrary effect. Instead of making our lives dull and melancholy, it will render them full of content and strong satisfactions; as by these rules we only change the childish satisfactions of our vain and sickly passions, for the solid enjoyments, and real happiness of a sound mind.

For as there is no true foundation for comfort in life, but in the assurance that a wise and good God governeth the world: so the more we find out God in every thing, the more we apply to him in every place, the more we look up to him in all our actions, the more we conform to his will, the more we act according to his wisdom, and imitate his goodness, by so much the more do we enjoy God, and increase all that is happy and comfortable in human life.

And it is plain, he that is endeavouring to subdue all those passions of pride, envy, and ambition, which religion opposes, is doing more to make himself happy, even in this life, than he that is contriving means to indulge them.

*For these passions are the causes of all the disquiets of human life: they are the dropsies and fevers of our minds, vexing them with false appetites, and restless cravings after such things as we do not want, and spoiling our taste for those things which are our proper good.

2. *Do but imagine that you some where or other saw a man, that proposed reason as the rule of all his actions; that had no desires but after such things as nature wants, and religion approves; that was as pure from all the motions of pride, envy, and covetousness, as from thoughts of murder; that in this freedom from worldly passions, he had a soul full of divine love, wishing and praying that all men may have what they want of worldly things, and be partakers of eternal glory.

Do but fancy a man living in this manner, and your own conscience will immediately tell you, that he is the happiest man in the world, and that it is not in the power of the richest fancy to invent any higher happiness in the present life.

And, on the other hand, if you suppose him to be in any degree less perfect; if you suppose him but subject to one foolish fondness, or vain passion, your own conscience will tell you, that he so far lessens his own happiness, and robs himself of the true enjoyment of his other virtues. So true is it, that the more we live by the rules of religion, the more peaceful and happy we are.

3. Again, as it thus appears that real happiness is only to be had from religion; so the same truth will appear from a consideration of human misery. If we look into the world, and view the troubles of human life, we shall find that they are all owing to our irreligious passions.

Now all trouble and uneasiness is founded in the want of something or other; would we therefore know the true cause of our troubles and disquiets, we must find out the cause of our wants; because that which creates and increases our wants, does in the same degree create and increase our troubles and disquiets.

God Almighty has sent us into the world with very few wants: meat, and drink, and cloathing, are the only things necessary in life; and as these are only our present needs, so the present world is well furnished to supply these needs.

If a man had half the world in his power, he can make no more of it than this; as he wants it only to support an animal life, so is it unable to do any thing else for him, or to afford him any other happiness.

4. This is the state of man, born with few wants, and into a large world, very capable of supplying them. So that one would reasonably suppose, men should pass their lives in content and thankfulness to God; at least, that they should be free from violent disquiets and vexations, as being placed in a world that has more than enough to relieve all their wants.

But if to all this we add, that this short life, thus furnished with all that we want in it, is only a short passage to eternal glory, where we shall be cloathed with the brightness of angels, and enter into the joys of God, we might still more reasonably expect, that human life should be a state of peace, and joy, and delight in God. Thus it would certainly be, if reason had its full power over us.

*But alas, though God, and nature, and reason, make human life thus free from wants; yet our passions, in rebellion against God, against nature and reason, create a new world of evils, and fill human life with imaginary wants, and vain disquiets.

*The man of pride has a thousand wants, which only his own pride has created; and these render him as full of trouble, as if God had created him with a thousand appetites, without creating any thing that was proper to satisfy them. Envy and ambition have also their endless wants, which disquiet the souls of men, and by their contradictory motions render them as foolishly miserable as those that want to fly and creep at the same time.

Let but any complaining, disquieted man, tell you the ground of his uneasiness, and you will plainly see that he is the author of his own torment; that he is vexing himself at some imaginary evil, which will cease to torment him as soon as he is content to be that which God, and nature, and reason, require him to be.

5. *If you should see a man passing his days in disquiet, because he could not walk upon the water, or catch birds as they fly by him, you would readily confess that such an one might thank himself for such uneasiness. But now, if you look into the most tormenting disquiets of life, you will find them all thus absurd. People are only tormented by their own folly, and vexing themselves at such things as no more concern them, nor are any more their proper good, than walking upon the water, or catching birds.

*What can you conceive more silly and extravagant, than a man racking his brains, and studying night and day how to fly? Wandering from his own house and home, wearying himself with climbing upon every ascent, cringing and courting every body he meets, to lift him up from the ground, bruising himself with continual falls, and at last breaking his neck? And all this, from an imagination that it would be glorious to have the eyes of people gazing up at him, and mighty happy to eat, and drink, and sleep, at the top of the highest trees in the kingdom. Would you not readily own that such a one was only disquieted at his own folly?

If you ask, what it signifies to suppose such silly creatures as are no where to be found in human life?

It may be answered, that wherever you see an ambitious man, there you see this vain and senseless flyer.

6. *Again, if you should see a man that had a large pond of water, yet living in continual thirst, not suffering himself to drink half a draught, for fear of lessening his pond; if you should see him wasting his time and strength, in fetching more water to his pond, always thirsty, yet always carrying a bucket of water in his hand, watching early and late to catch the drops of rain, gaping after every cloud, and running greedily into every mire and mud, in hopes of water, and always studying how to make every ditch empty itself into his pond. If you should see him grow grey and old in these anxious labours, and at last end a careful, thirsty life, by falling into his own pond: would you not say, that such a one was not only the author of his own disquiets, but was foolish enough to be reckoned amongst ideots and madmen? But yet foolish and absurd as this character is, it does not represent half the follies and absurd disquiets of the covetous man.

I could now easily proceed to shew the same effects of all our other passions, and make it plainly appear, that all our miseries, vexations, and complaints, are entirely of our own making, and that in the same absurd manner, as in these instances of the covetous and ambitious man. *Look where you will, you will see all worldly vexations, but like the vexation of him that was always in mire and mud in search of water to drink, when he had more at home than was sufficient for an hundred horses.

7. *Cælia is always telling you how provoked she is, what intolerable shocking things happen to her, what monstrous usage she suffers, and what vexations she meets with every where. She tells you that her patience is quite worn out, and there is no bearing the behaviour of people. Every assembly that she is at, sends her home provoked; something or other has been said or done, that no reasonable, well bred person ought to bear. Poor people that want her charity, are sent away with hasty answers; not because she has not a heart to part with any money, but because she is too full of some trouble of her own, to attend to the complaints of others. Cælia has no business upon her hands, but to receive the income of a plentiful fortune: but yet by the doleful turn of her mind, you would be apt to think that she had neither food nor lodging. If you see her look more pale than ordinary, if her lips tremble when she speaks to you, it is because she is just come from a visit, where Lupus took no notice at all of her, but talked all the time to Lucinda, who has not half her fortune. When cross accidents have so disordered her spirits, that she is forced to send for the doctor to make her able to eat; she tells him, in great anger at providence, that she never was well since she was born, and that she envies every beggar that she sees in health.

This is the unquiet life of Cælia, who has nothing to torment her but her own spirit.

If you could inspire her with Christian humility, you need do no more to make her happy. This virtue would make her thankful to God for half so much health as she has had, and help her to enjoy more for the time to come. This would keep off tremblings and loss of appetite, and her blood would need nothing else to sweeten it.

8. I have just touched upon these absurd characters, to convince you in the plainest manner, that religion is so far from rendering a life dull, anxious, and uncomfortable, that on the contrary, all the miseries, vexations, and complaints that are in the world, are owing to the want of religion; being directly caused by those absurd passions, which religion teaches us to deny.

9. Most people indeed confess, that religion preserves us from many evils, and helps us in many respects to a more happy enjoyment of ourselves; but then, they imagine, this is only true of such a moderate share of religion, as restrains us from the excesses of our passions. They suppose that the strict rules of piety must make our lives dull and uncomfortable.

This objection supposes, that religion, moderately practised, adds to our happiness; but that heights of religion have a contrary effect.

*It supposes therefore, that it is happy to be kept from the excesses of envy, but unhappy to be kept from other degrees of envy; that it is happy to be delivered from a boundless ambition, but unhappy to be without a moderate ambition. It supposes also, that the happiness of life consists in a mixture of virtue and vice, of ambition and humility, charity and envy, heavenly affection and covetousness. All which is as absurd, as to suppose that it is happy to be free from excessive pains, but unhappy to be without moderate pains; or that the happiness of health consisted in being partly sick, and partly well.

But if humility be the peace and rest of the soul, then no one has so much happiness from humility, as he that is the most humble. If excessive envy is a torment of the soul, he is most happy who extinguishes every spark of envy.

Thus it is in every virtue: the more you act up to every degree of it, the more happiness you have from it. And so of every vice: if you only abate its excesses, you do but little for yourself; but if you reject it in all degrees, then you feel the true ease of a reformed mind.

10. And, as to those enjoyments which piety requireth us to deny ourselves, this deprives us of no real comfort.

For, 1st, Piety requires us to renounce no ways of life, where we can act reasonably, and offer what we do to God. All ways of life, all enjoyments that are within these bounds, are no way denied us by the strictest rules of piety. Whatever you can do, or enjoy, as in the presence of God, as his servant, as his rational creature; all that you can perform conformably to a rational nature, is allowed by the laws of piety. And will you think that your life will be uncomfortable, unless you may displease God, and act contrary to that reason and wisdom which he has implanted in you?

As for those satisfactions, which we dare not offer to a holy God, which are only invented by the folly and corruption of the world, which inflame our passions, and sink our souls into grossness and sensuality, and render us incapable of the divine favour either here or hereafter, surely it can be no uncomfortable thing to be rescued by religion from such self-murder, and to be rendered capable of eternal happiness.

11. *Let us suppose a person placed somewhere alone, in the midst of a variety of things which he did not know how to use; that he has by him bread, wine, water, golden dust, iron chains, gravel, garments, fire. Let it be supposed, that he has no knowledge, nor any directions from his senses, how to quench his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or make any use of the things about him. Let it be supposed, that in his drought he puts golden dust into his eyes; when his eyes smart, he puts wine into his ears: that in his hunger, he puts gravel in his mouth; that in pain, he loads himself with iron chains; that feeling cold, he puts his feet in the water; that being frighted at the fire, he runs away from it; that being weary, he makes a seat of his bread. Let it be supposed, that thro’ his ignorance of the right use of the things that are about him, he will vainly torment himself whilst he lives; and at last die, blinded with dust, choaked with gravel, and loaded with irons. Let it be supposed, that some good being came to him, and shewed him the nature and use of all the things that were about him, and gave him such strict rules of using them, as would certainly, if observed, make him the happier for all that he had, and deliver him from the pains of hunger, and thirst, and cold.

Now, could you with any reason affirm, that those strict rules of using those things that were about him, had rendered that poor man’s life dull and uncomfortable?

12. This is, in some measure, a representation of the strict rules of religion; they only relieve our ignorance, save us from tormenting ourselves, and teach us to use every thing about us to our advantage.

Man is placed in a world full of variety of things; his ignorance makes him use many of them as absurdly, as the man that put dust in his eyes to relieve his thirst, or put on chains to remove pain.

Religion therefore here comes in to his relief, and gives him strict rules of using every thing that is about him; that by so using them suitably to his own nature and the nature of the things, he may have always the pleasure of receiving benefit from them. It shews him what is strictly right in meat, and drink, and cloaths; and that he has nothing else to expect from the things of this world, but to satisfy such wants of his own; and then to extend his assistance to all his brethren, that, as far as he is able, he may help all his fellow-creatures to the same benefit from the world that he hath.

13. *It tells him, that this world is incapable of giving him any other happiness; and that all endeavours to be happy in heaps of money, or acres of land, in fine cloaths, rich beds, stately equipage, and shew and splendour, are only vain endeavours, ignorant attempts after impossibilities; these things be no more able to give the least degree of happiness, than dust in the eyes can cure thirst, or gravel in the mouth satisfy hunger; but, like dust and gravel misapplied, will only serve to render him more unhappy by such an ignorant misuse of them.

It tells him, altho’ this world can do no more for him, than satisfy these wants of the body; yet there is a much greater good prepared for man, than eating, drinking, and dressing; that it is yet invisible to his eyes, being too glorious for the apprehension of flesh and blood; but reserved for him to enter upon, as soon as this short life is over; where, in a new body, formed to an angelic likeness, he shall dwell in the light and glory of God to all eternity.

*It tells him, that this state of glory will be given to all those that make a right use of the things of this present world; who do not blind themselves with golden dust, or eat gravel, or groan under loads of iron of their own putting on; but use bread, water, wine, and garments for such ends as are according to nature and reason; and who with faith and thankfulness worship the kind giver of all that they enjoy here, and hope for hereafter.

14. Now can any one say, that the strictest rules of such a religion as this, debar us of any of the comforts of life? Might it not as justly be said of those rules, that only ♦hindered a man from choaking himself with gravel? For the strictness of these rules only consists in the exactness of their rectitude.

♦ ‘hindred’ replaced with ‘hindered’

*Who would complain of the severe strictness of a law, that without any exception forbad the putting of dust into our eyes? Who could think it too rigid, that there were no abatements? Now this is the strictness of religion; it requires nothing of us strictly, or without abatements, but where every degree of the thing is wrong, where every indulgence does us hurt.

*If religion forbids all instances of revenge without exception, ’tis because all revenge is of the nature of poison; and though we don’t take so much as to put an end to life, yet if we take any at all, it corrupts the mass of blood, and makes it difficult to be restored to our former health.

If religion commands an universal charity, to love our neighbour as ourselves, to forgive and pray for all our enemies without any reserve, ’tis because all degrees of love are degrees of happiness, that strengthen and support the divine life of the soul, and are as necessary to its health and happiness, as proper food is necessary to the health and happiness of the body.

*If religion has laws against laying up treasures upon earth, and commands us to be content with food and raiment; ’tis because every other use of the world is abusing it to our own vexation, and turning its conveniences into snares and traps to destroy us. ’Tis because this plainness and simplicity of life, secure us from the cares and pains of restless pride and envy, and make it easier to keep that strait road that will carry us to eternal life.

15. If religion requires us sometimes to fast and deny our natural appetites, ’tis to lessen that struggle and war that is in our nature; ’tis to render our bodies fitter instruments of purity, and more obedient to the good motions of divine grace; ’tis to dry up the springs of our passions that war against the soul, to cool the flame of our blood, and render the mind more capable of divine meditations. So that altho’ these abstinences give some pain to the body, yet they so lessen the power of bodily appetites and passions, and so increase our taste of spiritual joys, that even these severities of religion, when practised with discretion, add much to the comfort of our lives.

If religion calleth us to a life of watching and prayer, ’tis because we live amongst a crowd of enemies, and are always in need of the assistance of God. If we are to confess and bewail our sins, ’tis because such confessions relieve the mind, and restore it to ease; as burdens and weights taken off the shoulders, relieve the body, and make it easier to itself. If we are to be frequent and fervent in holy petitions, ’tis to keep us steady in the sight of our true good, and that we may never want the happiness of a lively faith, a joyful hope, and well-grounded trust in God. If we are to pray often, ’tis that we may be often happy in such secret joys as only prayer can give; in such communications of the divine presence, as will fill our minds with all the happiness that beings not in heaven, are capable of.

If religion commands us to live wholly unto God, and to do all to his glory, ’tis because every other way is living wholly against ourselves, and will end in our shame and confusion of face.

16. *As every thing is dark, that God does not enlighten; as every thing is senseless, that has not its share of knowledge from him; as nothing lives but by partaking of life from him; as nothing exists, but because he commands it to be; so there is no glory or greatness, but what is the glory or greatness of God.

We indeed may talk of human glory, as we may talk of human life or human knowledge; but as we are sure that human life implies nothing of our own, but a dependent living in God, or enjoying so much life in God; so human glory, whenever we find it, must be only so much glory as we enjoy in the glory of God.

*This is the state of all creatures, whether men or angels; as they make not themselves, so if they are great, they are only great receivers of the gifts of God; their power can only be so much of the divine power acting in them; their wisdom can be only so much of the divine wisdom shining within them; and their light and glory, only so much of the life and glory of God shining upon them.

17. *As they are not men or angels, because they had a mind to be so, but because the will of God formed them to be what they are; so they cannot enjoy this or that happiness of men or angels, because they have a mind to it, but because it is the will of God, that such things be the happiness of men, and such things the happiness of angels. But now, if God be thus all in all; if his will is thus the measure of all things and all natures; if nothing can be done, but by his power; if nothing can be seen, but by a light from him; if we have nothing to fear, but from his justice; if we have nothing to hope for, but from his goodness; if this is the nature of man, thus helpless in himself; if this is the state of all creatures, as well those in heaven, as those on earth; if they are nothing, can do nothing, can suffer no pain, nor feel any happiness, but so far, and in such degrees, as the power of God does all this: if this be the state of things, then how can we have the least glimpse of joy or comfort? How can we have any peaceful enjoyment of ourselves, but by living wholly unto God, using and doing every thing conformably to his will? A life thus devoted unto God, looking wholly unto him in all our actions, and doing all things suitable to his glory, is so far from being dull, and uncomfortable, that it creates new comforts in every thing that we do.

18. On the contrary, would you see how happy they are who live according to their own wills, who cannot submit to the dull and melancholy business of a life devoted to God? Look at the man in the parable, to whom his Lord had given one talent.

He could not bear the thoughts of using his talent according to the will of him from whom he had it, and therefore he chose to make himself happier in another way of his own. Lord, says he, I knew thee, that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hadst not sown, and gathering where thou hadst not strawed. And I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in the earth. Lo there thou hast that is thine. Matt. xxv. 24.

Here you see how happy this man made himself by not acting wholly according to his Lord’s will. It was, according to his own account, an happiness of murmuring and discontent; I knew thee, says he, that thou wast an hard man: it was an happiness of fears and apprehensions; I was, says he, afraid: it was an happiness of vain labours and fruitless travels: I went, says he, and hid thy talent; and after having been awhile the sport of foolish passion, tormenting fears, and fruitless labours, he is rewarded with darkness, eternal weeping and gnashing of teeth.

19. Now this is the happiness of all those, who look upon strict piety, that is, a right use of their talent, to be a dull and melancholy thing.

They may live awhile free from the restraints and directions of religion; but instead thereof, they must be under the absurd government of their passions: they must, like the man in the parable, live in murmurings and discontents, in fears and apprehensions. They may avoid the labour of doing good, of spending their time devoutly, of laying up treasures in heaven, of cloathing the naked, of visiting the sick; but then they must, like this man, have labours and pains in vain, that tend to no use or advantage, that do no good either to themselves, or others; they must travel, and labour, and work, and dig, to hide their talent in the earth. They must, like him, at their Lord’s coming, be convicted out of their own mouths, be accused by their own hearts, and have every thing that they have said and thought of religion, be made to shew the justice of their condemnation to eternal darkness, weeping and gnashing of teeth.

This is the purchase that they make, who avoid the strictness of religion, in order to live happily.

20. On the other hand, would you see a short description of the happiness of a life rightly employed, wholly devoted to God, you must look at the man in the parable, to whom his Lord had given five talents. Lord, says he, thou deliveredst unto five talents: behold, I have gained besides them five talents more. His Lord said unto him, well done thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.

Here you see a life that is wholly intent upon the improvement of the talents, that is devoted wholly unto God, is a state of happiness, prosperous labours, and glorious success. Here are not, as in the former case, any uneasy passions, murmurings, vain fears and fruitless labours. The man is not toiling, and digging in the earth for no end or advantage; but his labours prosper in his hands, his happiness increases upon him, the blessing of five becomes the blessing of ten talents; and he is received with a Well done good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.

21. Now, as the case of these men in the parable left nothing else to their choice, but either to be happy in using their gifts to the glory of their Lord, or miserable by using them according to their own humours and fancies; so the state of Christianity leaves us no other choice.

*All that we have, all that we are, all that we enjoy, are only so many talents from God: if we use them to the end of a pious and holy life, our five talents will become ten, and our labours will carry us into the joy of our Lord; but if we abuse them to the gratification of our own passions, sacrificing the gifts of God to our own pride and vanity, we shall live here in vain labours and foolish anxieties, shunning religion as a melancholy thing, accusing our Lord as a hard master, and then fall into everlasting misery.

We may for awhile amuse ourselves with names, and sounds, and shadows of happiness, we may talk of this or that greatness and dignity; but if we desire real happiness, we have no other possible way to it, but by improving our talents, by so holily and piously using the powers and faculties of men in this present state, that we may be happy and glorious in the powers and faculties of angels in the world to come.

How ignorant therefore are they of the nature of religion, of the nature of man, and the nature of God, who think a life of strict piety to be a dull and uncomfortable state, when it is so plain and certain, that there is neither comfort nor joy to be found in any thing else?

CHAP. X.

The happiness of a life wholly devoted unto God, farther proved, from the vanity, and the ridiculous, poor enjoyments which they are forced to take up with, who live according to their own humours. This represented in various characters.

1.WE may see yet more of the happiness of a life devoted to God, by considering the poor contrivances for happiness, and the contemptible ways of life, which they are thrown into, who are seeking after happiness by other methods.

If one looks at their lives, who live by no rule but their own humours and fancies; if one sees what it is, which they call joy, and greatness, and happiness; if one sees how they rejoice and repent, change and fly from one delusion to another, one shall find great reason to rejoice, that God hath appointed a narrow way that leadeth unto life, and that we are not left to the folly of our own minds, or forced to take up with such shadows of happiness, as the folly of the world has invented. I say invented, because those things which make up the joy and happiness of the world, are mere inventions, which have no foundation in nature, are no way the proper good or happiness of man, no way perfect either his body or his mind.

2. *As, for instance, when a man proposes to be happy in ways of ambition, by raising himself to some imaginary heights above other people. This is an invention of happiness which has no foundation in nature, but it is as mere a cheat of our own making, as if a man should intend to make himself happy by climbing up a ladder.

*If a woman seeks for happiness from fine colours or spots upon her face, from jewels and rich cloaths, this is as merely an invention of happiness, as contrary to nature and reason, as if she should propose to make herself happy, by painting a post, and putting the same finery upon it. It is in this respect that I call these mere inventions of happiness, because neither God, nor nature, nor reason, hath appointed them as such; but whatever appears joyful or happy in them, is entirely invented by the blindness and vanity of our own minds.

And it is on these inventions of happiness, that I desire you to cast your eye, that you may thence learn how great a good religion is, which delivers you from such a multitude of follies, and vain pursuits, as are the torment of minds that wander from their true happiness in God.

3. *Look at Flatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to the folly of their own passions.

Flatus is rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness. Every time you visit him, you find some new project in his head; he is eager upon it as something that is more worth his while, and will do more for him, than any thing that is already past. Every new thing so seizes him, that if you was to take him from it, he would think himself quite undone. His sanguine temper, and strong passions, promise him so much happiness in every thing, that he is always cheated, and is satisfied with nothing.

At his first setting out in life, fine cloaths was his delight. His enquiry was only after the best taylors and peruke-makers; and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectations, he left off his brocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness.

This new pleasure satisfied him for some time; he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate of play, drawn into a duel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off the dice, and sought for happiness no longer amongst the gamesters.

4. The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversions of the town; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and assemblies; but growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking. He had now many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. And here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into a fever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.

The next attempt after happiness carried him into the field. For two or three years nothing was so happy as hunting. He entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped over more hedges and ditches than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in a green coat. He was the envy of all that blow the horn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you meet him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the last noble chace. No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, new stables, and bought a new hunting-seat, but he got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in the pleasures of building.

5. Now he invents new kinds of dovecoats, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before. He wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst his brick and mortar, than ever he had at court: and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.

After this, he was a great student for one whole year. He was up early and late at his Italian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding the opera, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they don’t know what.

Flatus is very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen to be when you visit him. If you find him when some project is almost wore out, you will find a peevish, ill-bred man; but if you had seen him just as he entered upon his riding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding the horn, you had been saluted with great civility.

Flatus is now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before. He is reasoning and reflecting with himself. He loses several days, in considering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try again.

But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country, to get himself in as good wind as any running footman in the kingdom.

6. I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars, because I hope that every particular folly that you here see, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.

If I could lay before you a particular account of all the circumstances of terror and distress, that daily attend a life at sea, the more particular I was in the account, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in the happiness of living upon the land.

In like manner, the more I enumerate the follies, anxieties, delusions, and restless desires which go thro’ every part of a life devoted to worldly enjoyments, the more you must be affected with that peace, and rest, and solid content, which religion gives to the souls of men.

7. But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life of Flatus, is not the common state of those who neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life.

I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the most general characters in life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it that belongs to themselves. For where shall we find that wise and happy man, who has not been eagerly pursuing different appearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it was here, and sometimes there?

And if people were to divide their lives into particular stages, and ask themselves what they were pursuing, or what it was which they had chiefly in view, when they were twenty years old, what at twenty-five, what at thirty, what at forty, what at fifty, and so on, till they were brought to their last bed, numbers of people would find, that they had pursued as many different appearances of happiness, as are to be seen in the life of Flatus.

And thus it must be, more or less, with all who propose any other happiness, than that which arises from a strict and regular piety.

8. But, secondly, let it be granted, that the generality of people are not of such restless, fickle tempers as Flatus, the difference is only this, Flatus is continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they don’t leave gaming, and then fall to hunting, but follow one or the other all their life. Some have so much steadiness in their tempers, that they seek after no other happiness, but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field; others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.

Now, is there any thing more happy or reasonable, in such a life as this, than in the life of Flatus? Is it not as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard, all your life?

Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such happiness as this, to labour after the perfection of their nature, and prepare themselves for an endless state of joy and glory in the presence of God?

9. *But turn your eyes now another way, and let the trifling joys, the gewgaw happiness of Feliciana, teach you how wise they are, what delusion they escape, whose hearts and hopes are fixed upon happiness in God.

If you was to live with Feliciana but one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition of that which could never have pleased once, but thro’ a littleness of mind, and want of thought.

She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting-day. She is again to change the colour of her cloaths, again to have a new head. She is again to see who acts best at the playhouse, and who sings finest at the opera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely, about nothing.

She is to be again delighted with some new fashion, and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards, and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again delighted with her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money. She is again to prepare herself for a birth-night, and again to see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels and partings.

If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprising new dress, or new diversion just come to town.

10. These are all the substantial and regular parts of Feliciana’s happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one, or more, of these things.

It is for this happiness, that she has always been deaf to the reasonings of religion, that her heart has been too gay and chearful to consider what is right or wrong in regard to eternity; or to listen to the sound of such dull words, as wisdom, piety, and devotion.

It is for fear of losing some of this happiness, that she dares not meditate on the immortality of her soul, consider her relation to God, or turn her thoughts towards those joys, which make saints and angels infinitely happy in the presence and glory of God.

But let it be observed, that as poor a round of happiness as this appears, yet most women that avoid the restraints of religion for a gay life, must be content with very small parts of it. As they have not Feliciana’s fortune; so they must give away the comforts of a pious life, for a very small part of her happiness.

11. And if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can persuade to live wholly unto God, you will find most of them such, as lose all the comforts of religion without gaining the tenth part of Feliciana’s happiness. They are such as spend their times and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are not to be purchased but by considerable fortunes.

But if a woman of high birth and great fortune, having read the gospel, should rather wish to be an under servant in some pious family, where wisdom, piety, and great devotion, directed all the actions of every day; if she should rather wish this, than to live at the top of Feliciana’s happiness, I should think her neither mad nor melancholy; but that she judged as rightly of the spirit of the gospel, as if she had rather wished to be poor Lazarus at the gate, than to be the rich man cloathed in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day.

*But to proceed, would you know what an happiness it is, to be governed by the wisdom of religion, look at the poor condition of Succus, whose greatest happiness is a good night’s rest in bed, and a good meal when he is up. When he talks of happiness, it is always in such expressions as shews you, that he has only his bed and his dinner in his thoughts.

This regard to his meals and repose, makes Succus order all the rest of his time with relation to them. He will undertake no business that may hurry his spirits, or break in upon his hours of eating and rest. If he reads, it shall be only for half an hour, because that is sufficient to amuse the spirits; and he will read something that may make him laugh, as rendering the body fitter for its food and rest; or, if he has a mind at any time to indulge a grave thought, he has recourse to a useful treatise upon the ♦ancient cookery. Succus is an enemy to all party matters, having made it an observation, that there is as good eating amongst the whigs as the tories.

♦ ‘antient’ replaced with ‘ancient’

He talks coolly and moderately upon all subjects, and is as fearful of falling into a passion, as of catching cold; being very positive they are both equally injurious to the stomach. If ever you see him more hot than ordinary, it is upon some provoking occasion, when the dispute about cookery runs high, or in the defence of some beloved dish, which has often made him happy. But he has been so long upon these subjects, is so well acquainted with all that can be said on both sides, and has so often answered all objections, that he generally decides the matter with great gravity.

Succus is very loyal, and as soon as ever he likes any wine, he drinks the king’s health with all his heart. Nothing could put rebellious thoughts into his head, unless he should live to see a proclamation against eating of pheasant’s eggs.

♦13. All the hours that are not devoted either to repose or nourishment, are looked upon by Succus as waste or spare time. For this reason he lodges near a coffee-house and a tavern, that when he rises in the morning he may be near the news, and when he parts at night, he may not have far to go to bed. In the morning you always see him in the same place in the coffee-room; and if he seems more attentively engaged than ordinary, it is because some criminal is broke out of newgate, or some lady was robbed last night, but they can’t tell where. When he has learnt all that he can, he goes home to settle the matter with the barber’s boy that comes to shave him.

♦ Number 12 omitted in text.

The next waste time that lies upon his hands, is from dinner to supper; and if melancholy thoughts ever come into his head, it is at this time, when he is often left to himself for an hour or more, and that after the greatest pleasure he knows is just over. He is afraid to sleep, because he has heard it is not healthful at that time; so that he is forced to refuse so welcome a guest.

But here he is soon relieved by a settled method of playing at cards, till it is time to think of some little, nice matter for supper.

After this Succus takes his glass, talks of the excellency of the English constitution, and praises that minister the most, who keeps the best table.

On a Sunday night you may sometimes hear him condemning the iniquity of town rakes; and the bitterest thing that he says against them is this, that he verily believes, some of them are so abandoned, as not to have a regular meal, or a sound night’s sleep, in a week.

At eleven Succus bids all good night, and parts in great friendship. He is presently in bed, and sleeps till it is time to go to the coffee-house next morning.

If you was to live with Succus for a twelvemonth, this is all that you would see in his life, except a few curses and oaths that he uses as occasion offers.

And now I cannot help making this reflection:

14. That as I believe the most likely means in the world to inspire a person with true piety, was to have seen the example of some eminent professors of religion: so the next thing that is likely to fill us with the same zeal, is to see the folly, the baseness, and poor satisfactions of a life destitute of religion. As the one excites us to love and admire the wisdom and greatness of religion; so the other may make us fearful of living without it.

For who can help blessing God for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory, when he sees what variety of folly they sink into, who live without it? Who would not heartily engage in all the labours of a pious life, when he sees what dull sensuality, what gross enjoyments they are left to, who seek for happiness in other ways?

So that whether we consider the greatness of religion, or the littleness of all other things, and the meanness of all other enjoyments, there is nothing to be found in the whole nature of things for a thoughtful mind to rest upon, but a happiness in religion.

15. Consider now with yourself, how unreasonably, it is pretended that a life of strict piety must be a dull and anxious state? For, can it with any reason be said that the duties of religion render our lives heavy and melancholy, when they only deprive us of such happiness as has been here laid before you?

Must it be tedious to live in the continual exercise of charity and temperance, to act wisely and virtuously, to do good to the utmost of your power, to imitate the divine perfections, and prepare yourself for the enjoyment of God? Must it be dull and tiresome to improve in holiness, to feel the comforts of conscience in all your actions, to know that God is your friend, that all must work for your good; that neither life nor death, neither men nor devils can do you any harm; but that all your sufferings and doings, are in a short time to be rewarded with everlasting glory: must such a state be dull and tiresome, for want of such happiness as Flatus or Feliciana enjoys?

Now, if this cannot be said, then there is no happiness lost, by being strictly pious; nor has the devout man any thing to envy in any other state of life. For all the art and contrivances in the world, without religion, cannot make more of human life, or carry its happiness to any greater height, than Flatus or Feliciana has done.

The finest wit, the greatest genius upon earth, if not governed by religion, must be as foolish, and low, and vain, in his method of happiness, as the poor Succus.

16. *If you was to see a man dully endeavouring all his life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up one and the same empty cup to his mouth, you would certainly despise his ignorance.

*But, if you should see others, of brighter parts, and finer understandings, ridiculing the dull satisfaction of one cup, and thinking to satisfy their own thirst by variety of gilt and golden empty cups; would you think that these were ever the wiser, or happier, or better employed, for their finer parts?

*Now, this is all the difference that you can see in the happiness of this life.

The dull and heavy soul may be content with one empty appearance of happiness, and be continually trying to hold the same empty cup to his mouth all his life. But let the wit, the deep scholar, the fine genius, the great statesman, the polite gentleman, lay all their heads together, and they can only shew you more and various, empty appearances of happiness; give them all the world into their hands, let them cut and carve as they please, they can only make a greater variety of empty cups.

*So that if you don’t think it hard to be deprived of the pleasures of gluttony, for the sake of religion, you have no reason to think it hard to be restrained from any worldly pleasure. For search as deep, and look as far as you will, there is nothing here to be found, that is nobler, or greater, than high eating and drinking, unless you look for it in the wisdom of religion.

And if all that is in the world, are only so many empty cups, what does it signify which you take, or how many?

17. If you would but use yourself to such meditations as these, to reflect upon the vanity of all orders of life without piety, to consider how all the ways of the world, are only so many different ways of error, blindness, and mistake; these meditations would awaken your soul into a zealous desire of that solid happiness which is only to be found in recourse to God.

18. To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the glories of heaven, to consider the joys of saints and angels living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not suited to every capacity.

But to see and consider the emptiness and error of all worldly happiness, to see the grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of dress, the blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and the shortness of all worldly projects; these are meditations that are suited to all capacities. They require no depth of thought, or sublime speculation; but are forced upon us by all our senses, and taught by almost every thing that we see and hear.

This is that Wisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets, Prov. viii. 1. that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births ♦ and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness in religion.

♦ duplicate word removed ‘and’

CHAP. XI.

That not only a life of vanity, or sensuality, but even the most regular kind of life, that is not governed by great devotion, sufficiently shews its miseries, its wants and emptiness to the eyes of all the world. This represented in various characters.

1.*OCTAVIUS is a learned, ingenious man, well versed in most parts of literature, and no stranger to any kingdom in Europe. The other day, being just recovered from a lingering fever he took upon him to talk thus to his friends.

“My glass, says he, is almost run out; and your eyes see how many marks of age and death I bear about me: but I plainly feel myself sinking away faster than any standers-by imagine. I fully believe, that one year more will conclude my reckoning.”

The attention of his friends was much raised by such a declaration, expecting to hear something truly excellent from so learned a man, who had but a year longer to live; when Octavius proceeded in this manner, “For these reasons, says he, my friends, I have left off all taverns; the wine of those places is not good enough for me in this decay of nature. I must now be nice in what I drink. I can’t pretend to do as I have done; and therefore I am resolved to furnish my own cellar with a little of the very best, tho’ it cost me ever so much.”

2. A few days after Octavius had made this declaration to his friends, he relapsed into his former illness, was committed to a nurse, who closed his eyes before his fresh parcel of wine came in.

Young Eugenius who was present at this discourse went home a new man.

I never, says Eugenius, was so deeply affected with the wisdom and importance of religion, as when I saw how poorly and meanly the learned Octavius was to leave the world, thro’ the want of it.

3. *Was all to die with our bodies, there might be some pretence for those different sorts of happiness, that are now so much talked of: but since our all begins at the death of our bodies; since all men are to be immortal, either in misery or happiness, in a world entirely different from this; since they are all hastening thence at all uncertainties, as fast as death can cut them down; some in sickness, some in health, some sleeping, some waking, some at midnight, others at cock-crowing, and at all hours they know not of; is it not certain, that no man can exceed another in joy and happiness, but so far as he exceeds him in those virtues which fit him for a happy death?

*Cognatus is a sober, regular clergyman, of good repute in the world, and well esteemed in his parish. All his parishioners say he is an honest man, and very notable at making a bargain. The farmers listen to him with great attention, when he talks of the properest time of selling corn.

He has been for twenty years a diligent observer of markets, and has raised a considerable fortune by good management.

Cognatus is very orthodox, and full of esteem for our English liturgy; and if he has not prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, ’tis because his predecessor had not used the parish to any such custom. As he cannot serve both his livings himself; so he makes it matter of conscience to keep a sober curate upon one of them, whom he hires to take care of all the souls in the parish, at as cheap a rate as a sober man can be procured.

Cognatus has been very prosperous all his time; but still he has had the uneasiness and vexations that they have, who are deep in worldly business. Taxes, losses, crosses, bad mortgages, bad tenants, and the hardness of the times, are frequent subjects of his conversation, and a good or a bad season has a great effect upon his spirits.

Cognatus has no other end in growing rich, but that he may leave a considerable fortune to a niece, whom he has politely educated in expensive finery, by what he has saved out of the tythes of two livings.

The neighbours look upon Cognatus as an happy clergyman, because they see him (as they call it) in good circumstances; and some of them intend to dedicate their own sons to the church, because they see how well it has succeeded with Cognatus, whose father was but an ordinary man.

♦5. *But now if Cognatus, when he first entered into holy orders, had perceived how absurd a thing it is to grow rich by the gospel; if he had proposed to himself the example of some primitive father; if, instead of twenty years care to lay up treasures upon earth, he had distributed the income of every year in the most Christian acts of charity.

♦ Number 4 omitted in text.

If instead of tempting his niece to be proud, and providing her with such ornaments as the apostle forbids, he had cloathed, comforted, and relieved numbers of widows and orphans, who were all to appear for him at the last day:

*If instead of the cares and anxieties of bad bonds, troublesome mortgages, and ill bargains, he had had the constant comfort of knowing, that his treasure was securely laid up, where neither moth corrupteth, nor thieves break thro’ and steal; could it with any reason be said, that he had mistaken the spirit and dignity of his order, or lessened any of that happiness, which is to be found in his sacred employment?

If instead of rejoicing in the happiness of a second living, he had thought it unbecoming the office of a clergyman to traffick for gain in holy things, as to open a shop.

*If he had thought it better to recommend some honest labour to his niece, than to support her in idleness by the labour of a curate; better that she should want fine cloaths, and a rich husband, than that cures of souls should be farmed out, and brother clergymen not suffered to live by those altars at which they serve. If this had been the spirit of Cognatus, could it with any reason be said, that these rules of religion, this strictness of piety, had robbed Cognatus of any real happiness? Could it be said, that a life thus governed by the spirit of the gospel, must be dull and melancholy, if compared to that of raising a fortune for a niece?

6. Look now at that condition of life which draws the envy of all.

*Negotius is a temperate, honest man. He served his time under a master of great trade; but has, by his own management, made it a more considerable business than ever it was before. For thirty years last past, he has been corresponding with all parts of Europe. The general good of trade seems to Negotius to be the general good of life; whatever he commends or condemns, either in church or state, is commended, or condemned, with regard to trade.

As money is continually pouring in upon him; so he often lets it go in various kinds of expence and generosity, and sometimes in ways of charity.

Negotius is always ready to join in any public contribution. If a purse is making at any place where he happens to be, whether it be to buy a plate for a horse-race, or to redeem a prisoner out of gaol, you are always sure of having something from him.

He has given a fine ring of bells to a church in the country; and there is much expectation that he will some time or other make a more beautiful front to the market-house, than has yet been seen in any place: for it is the generous spirit of Negotius, to do nothing in a mean way.

7. If you ask what it is that has secured Negotius from all scandalous vices, it is the same thing that has kept him from all strictness of devotion, it is his great business. He has always had too many important things in his head: his thoughts are too much employed, to suffer him to fall either into a course of rakery, or to feel the necessity of an inward, solid piety.

For this reason he hears of the pleasures of debauchery, and the pleasures of piety with the ♦same indifferency; and has no more desire of living in the one than in the other, because neither of them consists with that turn of mind, and multiplicity of business, which are his happiness.

♦ inserted omitted word ‘same’

*If Negotius was asked, what it is which he drives at in life? He would be as much at a loss for an answer, as if he was asked, what any other person was thinking of. For though he always seems to himself to know what he is doing, and has many things in his head, which are the motives of his actions; yet he cannot tell you of any one general end of life that he has chosen with deliberation, as being truly worthy of all his labour and pains.

He has several confused notions in his head, which have been a long time there: such as these; that it is something great to have more business than other people, to have more dealings upon his hands than a hundred of the same profession, to grow continually richer and richer, and to raise an immense fortune before he dies. The thing that seems to give Negotius the greatest life and spirit, and to be most in his thoughts, is an expectation that he shall die richer than any of his business ever did.

8. The generality of people when they think of happiness, think upon Negotius; in whose life every instance of happiness is supposed to meet, sober, prudent, rich, prosperous, generous and charitable.

Let us now look at this condition in another, but truer light.

*Let it be supposed, that this same Negotius was a painful, laborious man, very deep in variety of affairs; that he neither drank, nor debauched, but was sober and regular in his business. Let it be supposed, that he grew old in this course of trading, and that the end and design of all his labour, and care, and application to business, was only this, that he might die possessed of more than an hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs.

Let it be supposed that the sober part of the world say of him when he ♦is dead, that he was a great and happy man, a thorough master of business, and had acquired an hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs when he died.

♦ ‘his’ replaced with ‘is’

9. *Now if this was really the case, I believe that it would be readily granted that a life of such business was as poor and ridiculous as any that can be invented. But it would puzzle any one to shew, that a man that has spent all his time and thoughts in business and hurry, that he might die, as it is said, worth an hundred thousand pounds, is any whit wiser than he, who has taken the same pains to have as many pairs of boots and spurs when he leaves the world.

*For if the state of our souls be our whole state, if the only end of life be to die as free from sin, and as exalted in virtue as we can; if naked as we came, so naked are we to return, and to stand a trial before Christ and his holy angels, for everlasting happiness or misery, what can it possibly signify, what a man had, or had not, in this world? What can it signify what you call these things that a man left behind him; whether you call him his, or any one’s else; whether you call them trees or fields, or birds and feathers; whether you call them an hundred thousand pounds, or an hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs? I say call them; for the things signify no more to him than the names.

Now ’tis easy to see the folly of a life thus spent, to furnish a man with such a number of boots and spurs. But yet there needs no better faculty of seeing, no finer understanding, to see the folly of a life spent in making a man possessor of ten towns before he dies.

*For if, when he has got all his towns, or all his boots, his soul is to go into his own place amongst separate spirits, and his body to be laid by in a coffin, till the last trumpet calls him to judgment; where the enquiry will be, how humbly, how devoutly, how meekly, how piously, how charitably, we have spoke, thought, and acted, whilst we were in the body? How can we say, that he who has wore out his life in raising an hundred thousand pounds, has acted wiser for himself, than he who has had the same care to procure an hundred thousand of any thing else?

10. *But farther, let it now be supposed, that Negotius, when he first entered into business, happening to read the gospel with attention, found he had a much greater business upon his hands, than that to which he had served an apprenticeship: that there were things which belong to man, of much more importance than all that our eyes can see; so glorious, as to deserve all our thoughts; so dangerous, as to need all our care; and so certain, as never to deceive the faithful labourer.

Let it be supposed, that by reading this book, he had discovered that his soul was more to him than his body: that it was better to grow in the virtues of the soul, than to have a large body, or a full purse; that it was better to be fit for heaven, than to have a variety of fine houses upon the earth; that it was better to secure an everlasting happiness, than to have plenty of things which he cannot keep; better to live in habits of humility, piety, charity, and self-denial, than to die unprepared for judgment; better to be most like our Saviour, than to excel all the tradesmen in the world, in business and bulk of fortune.

Let it be supposed, that Negotius, believing these things to be true, entirely devoted himself to God at his first setting out in the world, resolving to pursue his business no farther than was consistent with great devotion, humility, and self-denial; and for no other ends, but to provide himself with a sober subsistence, and to do all the good he could, to the souls and bodies of his fellow creatures.

Let it therefore be supposed, that instead of the continual hurry of business, he was frequent in his retirements; that instead of restless desires after more riches, his soul had been full of the love of God and heavenly affection, constantly watching against worldly tempers, and always aspiring after divine grace; that instead of worldly cares and contrivances, he had been busy in fortifying his soul against all approaches of sin; that instead of costly shew, and the expensive generosity of a splendid life, he had loved and exercised all instances of humility and lowliness; that instead of great treats and full tables, his house had only furnished a sober refreshment to those that wanted it.

Let it be supposed, that his contentment kept him free from all kinds of envy: that his piety made him thankful to God in all crosses and disappointments: that his charity kept him from being rich, by a continual distribution to all objects of compassion.

♦12. Now, had this been the Christian spirit of Negotius, can any one say, that he had lost the true happiness of life, by thus conforming to the Spirit, and living up to the hope of the gospel?

♦ Number 11 omitted in text.

*Can it be said, that a life made exemplary by such virtues as these, which keep heaven always in our sight, which both delight and exalt the soul here, and prepare it for the presence of God hereafter, must be poor and dull, if compared to that of heaping up riches, which can neither stay with us, nor we with them?

It would be endless to multiply examples of this kind, to shew you how little is lost, and how much is gained, by introducing a strict and exact piety into every condition of human life.

I shall now therefore leave it to your own meditation, to carry this way of thinking farther, hoping that enough is said, to convince yourself, that an exalted piety is so far from rendering any life dull and tiresome, that it is the only joy and happiness of any condition in the world.

13. *Imagine to yourself some person in a consumption, or any other lingering distemper that was incurable.

If you was to see such a man wholly intent upon doing every thing in the spirit of religion, making the wisest use of all his time, fortune, and abilities. If he was for carrying every duty of piety to its greatest height, and striving to have all the advantage that could be had in the remainder of his life: if he avoided all business, but such as was necessary; if he was averse to all the follies and vanities of the world, had no taste for finery and shew, but sought for all his comfort in the hopes and expeditions of religion, you would certainly commend his prudence; you would say, that he had taken the right method to make himself as joyful and happy, as any one can be in a state of such infirmity.

*On the other hand, if you should see the same person, with trembling hands, short breath, thin jaws, and hollow eyes, wholly intent upon business and bargains, as long as he could speak: if you should see him pleased with fine cloaths, when he could scarce stand to be dressed, and laying out his money in horses and dogs, rather than purchase the prayers of the poor for his soul, which was so soon to be separated from his body, you would certainly condemn him, as a weak, silly man.

14. Now, as it is easy to see the reasonableness, the wisdom and happiness of a religious spirit in a consumptive man; so, if you pursue the same way of thinking, you will as easily perceive the same wisdom and happiness of a pious temper in every other state of life.

For how soon will any man that is in health, be in the state of him that is in a consumption? How soon will he want all the same comforts of religion, which every dying man wants?

*And if it be wise and happy to live piously, because we have not above a year to live, is it not being more wise, and making ourselves more happy, to live piously, because we may have more years to come? If one year of piety before we die, is so desirable, are not more years of piety much more desirable?

15. If a man had five fixed years to live, he could not possibly think at all, without intending to make the best use of them all. When he saw his stay so short in this world, he must needs think that this was not a world for him; and when he saw how near he was to another world, that was eternal, he must surely think it necessary to be very diligent in preparing for it.

Now as reasonable as piety appears in such a circumstance of life, it is yet more reasonable in every circumstance of life, to every thinking man.

For who but a madman can recount that he has five years certain to come?

*And if it be reasonable and necessary to deny our worldly tempers, and live wholly unto God, because we are certain that we are to die at the end of five years; surely it must be much more reasonable and necessary for us to live in the same spirit, because we have no certainty that we shall live five weeks.

16. *Again, if we are to add twenty years to the five, which is, in all probability, more than will be added to the lives of many people, who are at man’s estate; what a poor thing it is! How small a difference is there between five, and twenty-five years?

It is said, that a day is with God as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day; because, in regard to his eternity, this difference is as nothing.

*Now, as we are created to be eternal, to live an endless succession of ages upon ages, where thousands, and millions of thousands of years will have no proportion to our everlasting life in God; so with regard to his eternal state, which is our real state, twenty-five years is as poor a pittance as twenty-five days.

We can never make any true judgment of time as it relates to us, without considering the true state of our duration. If we are temporary beings, then a little time may justly be called a great deal in relation to us; but if we are eternal beings, then the difference of a few years is as nothing.

17. If we were to suppose three different sorts of rational beings, all of different, but fixed duration; one sort that lived certainly only a month, the other a year, and the third an hundred years.

If these beings were to meet together, and talk about time, they must talk in a very different language. Half an hour to those who were to live but a month, must be a very different thing, to what it is to those, who are to live an hundred years.

As therefore time is thus a different thing, with regard to the state of those who enjoy it; so if we would know what time is with regard to ourselves, we must consider our state.

Now since our eternal state, is as certainly ours, as our present state; since we are as certainly to live for ever, as we are now to live at all; it is plain, that we cannot judge of the value of any particular time, as to us, but by comparing it to that eternal duration for which we are created.

If you would know what five years signify to a being that was to live an hundred, you must compare five to a hundred, and see what proportion it bears to it, and then you would judge right.

*So if you would know, what twenty years signify to a son of Adam, you must compare it, not to a million of ages, but to an eternal duration, to which no number of millions bears any proportion; and then you will judge right, by finding it nothing.

18. Consider therefore this; how would you condemn the folly of a man, that should lose his share of future glory, for the sake of being rich, or great, or praised, or delighted in any enjoyment, only one poor day before he was to die!

But if the time will come, when a number of years will seem less to every one than a day does now; what a condemnation must it then be, if eternal happiness should be lost, for something less than the enjoyment of a day!

Why does a day seem a trifle to us now? It is because we have years to set against it. It is the duration of years that makes it seem as nothing.

*What a trifle therefore must the years of a man’s age appear, when they are forced to be set against eternity, when there shall be nothing but eternity to compare them with!

*And this will be the case of every man, as soon as he is out of the body; he will be forced to forget the distinction of days and years, and to measure time, not by the course of the sun, but by setting it against eternity.

As the fixed stars, by reason of our being placed at such distance from them, appear but as so many points; so when we, placed in eternity, shall look back upon all time, it will appear but as a moment.

*Then, a luxury, an indulgence, a prosperity, a greatness of fifty years, will seem to every one that looks back upon it, as the same poor short enjoyment, as if he had been snatched away in his first sin.

These few reflections upon time, are only to shew how poorly they think, how miserably they judge, who are less careful of an eternal state, because they may be at some years distance from it, than they would be, if they knew they were within a few weeks of it.

CHAP. XII.

Concerning that part of devotion which relates to times and hours of prayer. Of daily early prayer in the morning. How we may improve our forms of prayer, and increase the spirit of devotion.

1.HAVING in the foregoing chapters shewn the necessity of a devout spirit, in every part of our common life, in the discharge of all our business, in the use of all the gifts of God: I come now to consider that part of devotion, which relates to times and hours of prayer.

*I take it for granted, that every Christian, that is in health, is up early in the morning; for it is much more reasonable to suppose a person up early, because he is a Christian, than because he is a labourer, or a tradesman, or a servant, or has business that wants him.

*We naturally conceive some abhorrence of a man that is in bed, when he should be at his labour, or in his shop. We can’t tell how to think any thing good of him, who is such a slave to drowsiness, as to neglect his business for it.

*Let this therefore teach us to conceive, how odious we must appear in the sight of heaven, if we are in bed, shut up in sleep, when we should be praising God; and are such slaves to drowsiness, as to neglect our devotions for it.

For if he is to be blamed as a slothful drone, that rather chuses the lazy indulgence of sleep, than to perform his proper worldly business, how much more is he to be reproached, that had rather lie folded up in a bed, than be raising up his heart to God in acts of praise and adoration.

2. Prayer is the nearest approach to God, and the highest enjoyment of him, that we are capable of in this life.

It is the noblest exercise of the soul, the most exalted use of our best faculties, and the highest imitation of the blessed inhabitants of heaven.

When our hearts are full of God, sending up holy desires to the throne of grace, we are then in our highest state, we are upon the utmost height of human greatness; we are not before kings and princes, but in the presence of the Lord of all the world, and can be no higher till death is swallowed up in glory.

On the other hand, sleep is the poorest, dullest refreshment of the body; that is so far from being intended as an enjoyment, that we are forced to receive it either in a state of insensibility, or in the folly of dreams.

*Sleep, is such a dull, stupid state of existence, than even amongst mere animals, we despise them most which are most drowsy. He therefore that chuses to enlarge the slothful indolence of sleep, rather than be early at his devotions to God; chuses the dullest refreshment of the body, before the highest, noblest enjoyment of the soul; he chuses that state, which is a reproach to mere animals, rather than that exercise, which is the glory of angels.

3. *Besides, he that cannot deny himself this drowsy indulgence, but must pass away good part of the morning in it, is no more prepared for prayer when he is up, than he is prepared for fasting, or any other self-denial. He may, indeed, more easily read over a form of prayer, than he can perform those duties; but he is no more disposed for the true spirit of prayer, than he is disposed for fasting. For sleep, thus indulged, gives a softness and idleness to all our tempers, and makes us unable to relish any thing, but what suits with an idle state of mind, and gratifies our natural tempers, as sleep does. So that a person that is a slave to this idleness, is in the same temper when he is up; and tho’ he is not asleep, yet he is under the effects of it: and every thing that is idle, indulgent, or sensual, pleases him for the same reason that sleep pleases him: on the other hand, every thing that requires care, trouble, or self-denial, is hateful to him for the same reason that he hates to rise.

4. It is not possible in nature for an epicure to be truly devout; he must renounce his sensuality, before he can relish the happiness of devotion.

Now, he that turns sleep into an idle indulgence, does as much to corrupt his soul, to make it a slave to bodily appetites, as he that turns the necessity of eating into a course of indulgence.

A person that eats and drinks too much, does not feel such effects from it as those do, who live in notorious gluttony and intemperance; but yet his course of indulgence, tho’ it be not scandalous in the eyes of the world, nor such as torments his own conscience, is a great and constant hindrance to his improvement in virtue: it gives him eyes that see not, and ears that hear not; it creates a sensuality in the soul, increases the power of bodily passions, and makes him incapable of entering into the true spirit of religion.

And this is the case of those who waste their time in sleep; it does not disorder their lives, or wound their consciences, as notorious acts of intemperance do; but, like any other more moderate course of indulgence, it silently, and by smaller degrees, wears away the spirit of religion, and sinks the soul into a state of dulness and sensuality.

5. If you consider devotion only as a time of so much prayer, you may perhaps perform it, tho’ you live in this daily indulgence; but if you consider it as a state of the heart, that is deeply affected with a sense of its own misery and infirmities, and desires the Spirit of God more than all things in the world, you will find the spirit of indulgence, and the spirit of prayer, cannot subsist together. Self-denial, of all kinds, is the very life and soul of piety; but he that has not so small a degree of it, as to be able to be early at his prayers, can have no reason to think that he has taken up his cross, and is following Christ.

*What conquest has he got over himself? What right-hand has he cut off? What trials is he prepared for? What sacrifice is he ready to offer to God, who cannot be so cruel to himself, as to rise to prayer at such a time, as the drudging part of the world are content to rise to their labour?

6. *Some people will not scruple to tell you, that they indulge themselves in sleep, because they have nothing to do: and that if they had either business or pleasure to rise to, they would not lose so much of their time in sleep. But such people must be told, that they mistake the matter; that they have a great deal of business to do; they have a hardened heart to change; they have the whole spirit of religion to get. For surely, he that thinks devotion to be of less moment than business or pleasure; or that he has nothing to do, because nothing but his prayers want him, may be justly said to have the whole spirit of religion to seek.

You must not therefore consider how small a crime it is to rise late; but you must consider how great a misery it is to want the spirit of religion; to have a heart not rightly affected with prayer, and to live in such softness and idleness, as makes you incapable of the most fundamental duties of a Christian life.

When you read the scriptures, you see a religion that is all life, and spirit, and joy in God; that supposes our souls risen from earthly desires and bodily indulgences, to prepare for another body, another world, and other enjoyments. You see Christians represented as temples of the Holy Ghost, as children of the day, as candidates for an eternal crown, as watchful virgins, that have their lamps always burning in expectation of the bridegroom. But can he be thought to have this joy in God, this care of eternity, this watchful spirit, who has not zeal enough to rise to his prayers?

7. If I was to desire you not to study the gratification of your palate, in the niceties of meats and drinks, I would not insist upon the crime of wasting your money in such a way, tho’ it be a great one; but I would desire you to renounce such a way of life, because it supports you in such a state of sensuality and indulgence, as renders you incapable of relishing the most essential doctrines of religion.

For the same reason, I don’t insist much upon the crime of wasting your time in sleep, tho’ it be a great one; but I desire you to renounce this indulgence, because it gives a softness and idleness to your soul, and is so contrary to that lively, zealous, watchful, self-denying spirit, which was not only the Spirit of Christ and his apostles, and the spirit of all the saints and martyrs which have ever been among men, but must be the spirit of those who would not sink in the common corruption of the world.

*Here therefore we must fix our charge against this practice; we must blame it not as having this or that particular evil, but as a general habit, that extends itself thro’ our whole spirit, and supports a state of mind that is wholly wrong.

It is contrary to piety; not as accidental slips and mistakes in life are contrary to it, but in such a manner, as an ill habit of body is contrary to health.

On the other hand, if you was to rise early every morning, as an instance of self-denial, as a method of renouncing indulgence, as a means of redeeming your time, and fitting your spirit for prayer, you would find mighty advantages from it. This method, tho’ it seems such a small circumstance, would in all probability, be a means of great piety. It would keep it constantly in your head, that softness and idleness were to be avoided; that self-denial was a part of Christianity. It would teach you to exercise power over yourself, and make you able to renounce other pleasures and tempers that war against the soul.

But above all, what is so planted and watered, will certainly have an increase from God. You will then speak from your heart, your soul will be awake, your prayers will refresh you like meat and drink, you will feel what you say, and begin to know what saints and holy men have meant by fervour in devotion.

8. Hoping therefore that you are now convinced of the necessity of rising early to your prayers, I shall proceed to lay before you a method of daily prayer.

I don’t take upon me to prescribe to you the use of any particular forms of prayer, but you will here find some helps, how to furnish yourself with such as may be useful. And if your heart is ready to pray in its own language, I press no necessity of borrowed forms.

For tho’ I think a form of prayer very necessary to public worship, yet if any one can find a better way of raising his heart unto God in private, I have nothing to object against it; my design being only to assist and direct such as stand in need of this assistance.

It seems right for such an one to begin with a form of prayer; and if, in the midst of it he finds his heart ready to break forth into other words, he may leave his form, and follow those fervours of his heart, till it again want the assistance of his usual petitions.

*This seems to be the true liberty of private devotion: it may be under the direction of some form; yet not so tied down to it, but that it may be free to take such new expressions as its present fervours furnish it with, which sometimes carry the soul more powerfully to God, than any expressions that were ever used before.

9. Most people are changeable in regard to devotion. Sometimes our hearts have such strong apprehensions of the divine presence, and are so full of compunction, that we cannot speak in any language but that of tears.

Sometimes the light of God’s countenance shines so bright, we see so far into the invisible world, we are so affected with the wonders of the goodness of God, that our hearts worship in a language higher than that of words, and we feel transports of devotion, which only can be felt.

On the other hand, sometimes we are so sunk into our bodies, so dull and unaffected with that which concerns our souls, that we cannot keep pace with our forms of confession, or feel half of that in our hearts, which we have in our mouths; we thank and praise God with forms of words, but our hearts have little or no share in them.

We may provide against this inconstancy of our hearts, by having at hand such forms of prayer, as may best suit us when our hearts are in their best state, and also be most likely to stir them up, when they are sunk into dulness.

10. The first thing you are to do, when you are upon your knees, is, with a short silence, let your soul place itself in the presence of God; use this, or some other method, to separate yourself from all common thoughts, and make your heart as sensible as you can of the divine presence.

Now, if this recollection of spirit is necessary, as who can say it is not? How poorly must they perform their devotions, who are always in a hurry; who begin them in haste, and hardly allow themselves time to repeat their very form, with attention? Theirs is properly saying prayers, instead of praying.

If you was to use yourself, as far as you can, to pray always in the same place; if you was to reserve that place for devotion, and not allow yourself to do any thing common in it; if you was never to be there yourself, but in times of devotion; if any little room, or, if that cannot be, if any particular part of a room was thus used, this kind of consecration of it, as a place holy unto God, would much assist your devotion.

11. It may be of use to you to observe this farther rule: when at any time, either in reading the scripture, or any book of piety, you meet with a passage, that more than ordinarily affects your mind, turn it into the form of a petition, and give it a place in your prayers.

At all the stated hours of prayer, it may be of benefit to you, to have something fixed, and something at liberty, in your devotions.

You may have some fixed subject to be the chief matter of your prayer at that particular time; and yet have liberty to add such other petitions, as your condition may then require.

For instance; as the morning is to you the beginning of a new life; as God has then given you a new enjoyment of yourself, and a fresh entrance into the world, it is highly proper that your first devotions should be praise and thanksgiving to God, as for a new creation; and that you should devote body and soul, all you are, and all you have, to his service and glory.

Receive therefore every day, as a resurrection from death, as a new enjoyment of life; meet every rising sun with such sentiments of God’s goodness, as if you had seen it, and all things, new created upon your account; and under the sense of so great a blessing, let your heart praise and magnify so good and glorious a Creator.

Therefore praise and thanksgiving, and oblation of yourself to God, may be the fixed subject of your first prayers in the morning; and then take the liberty of adding such other devotions, as the accidental difference of your state, or the accidental difference of your heart, shall direct.

12. *One of the greatest benefits of private devotion, consists in adapting our prayers to the difference of our state, and the difference of our hearts.

*By the difference of our state, is meant the difference of our external state, as of sickness, health, pains, losses, disappointments, troubles, particular mercies or judgments from God, and all sorts of kindnesses, injuries, or reproaches from other people.

Now, as these are great parts of our state of life, as they make great difference in it, by continually changing; so our devotion will be made doubly beneficial to us, when it watches to receive and sanctify all these changes of our state, and turns them all into so many occasions of a more particular application to God, of such thanksgivings, such resignation, such petitions, as our present state more especially requires.

*And he that makes every change in his state, a reason of presenting unto God some particular petitions suitable to that change, will soon find, that he has taken an excellent means, not only of praying with fervour, but of living as he prays.

13. *We are likewise always to adapt some part of our prayers to the difference of our hearts; by which is meant the different tempers of our hearts, as of love, joy, peace, tranquility, dulness and dryness of spirit, anxiety, discontent, motions of envy and ambition, dark and disconsolate thoughts, resentments, fretfulness, and peevish tempers.

If we are in the delightful calm of sweet and easy passions, of love and joy in God, we should then offer the tribute of thanksgiving.

If, on the other hand, we feel ourselves laden with heavy passions, with dulness of spirit, anxiety and uneasiness, we must then look up to God in acts of humility, confessing our unworthiness, opening our troubles to him, beseeching him in his good time to lessen our infirmities, and to deliver us from these passions.

By this wise application of our prayers, we shall get all the relief from them that is possible; and the very changeableness of our hearts, will prove a means of exercising a greater variety of holy tempers.

You will perceive by this, that persons ought to have a great share in composing their own devotions.

As to that part of their prayers, which is always fixed, they may use forms composed by other persons; but in that part which they are to suit to the present state of their life, and the present state of their heart, they must let the sense of their own condition help them to such kinds of petition, thanksgiving, or resignation, as their present state requires.

14. But it is amazing to see how ♦eagerly men employ their parts, their study, application, and exercise; how all helps are called to their assistance, when any thing is intended in worldly matters; and how little they use their parts, sagacity, and abilities, to raise and increase their devotion.

♦ ‘eargerly’ replaced with ‘eagerly’

*Mandanus is a man of excellent parts, and clear apprehension. He is well advanced in age, and has made a great figure in his business. Every part of trade that has fallen in his way, has had some improvement from him; and he is always contriving to carry every method of doing any thing well to its greatest height. Mandanus aims at the greatest perfection in every thing. The strength of his mind, and his just way of thinking, make him intent upon removing all imperfections.

He can tell you all the defects and errors in all the common methods, whether of trade, building, or improving land or manufactures. The clearness and strength of his understanding, which he is constantly improving, by continual exercise in these matters, by often digesting his thoughts in writing, and trying every thing every way, has rendered him a great master in most concerns in human life.

Thus has Mandanus gone on, increasing his knowledge and judgment, as fast as his years came upon him.

The one thing which has not fallen under his improvement, nor received any benefit from his judicious mind, is his devotion: this is just in the same poor state it was, when he was only six years of age; and the old man prays now in that little form of words which his mother used to hear him repeat night and morning.

This Mandanus, that hardly ever saw the poorest utensil, or ever took the meanest trifle into his hand, without considering how it might be made, or used to better advantage, has gone all his life-long praying in the same manner as when he was a child; without ever considering how much better or oftner he might pray.

If Mandanus sees a book of devotion, he passes it by, as he does a spelling-book; because he remembers that he learned to pray so many years ago under his mother, when he learnt to spell.

Now, how poor and pitiable is the conduct of this man of sense, who has so much judgment in every thing, but that which is the whole wisdom of man?

And how miserably do many people, more or less, imitate this conduct?

15. *Classicus is a man of learning, and well versed in all the best authors of antiquity. He has read them so much, that he has entered into their spirit, and can imitate the manner of any of them. All their thoughts are his thoughts, and he can express himself in their language. He is so great a friend to this improvement of the mind, that if he lights on a young scholar, he never fails to advise him concerning his studies.

Classicus tells his young man, he must not think he has done enough, when he has only learnt languages; but that he must be daily conversant with the best authors, read them again and again, catch their spirit by living with them; and that there is no other way of becoming like them, or of making himself a man of taste and judgment.

How wise might Classicus have been, if he had but thought as justly of devotion, as he does of learning?

He never, indeed, says any thing shocking or offensive about devotion, because he never thinks or talks about it. It suffers nothing from him, but neglect and disregard.

The two testaments would not have had so much as a place amongst his books, but that they are both to be had in Greek.

16. Classicus thinks, he sufficiently shews his regard for the holy scripture, when he tells you, that he has no other books of piety besides them.

It is very well, Classicus, that you prefer the bible to all other books of piety; he has no judgment, that is not thus far of your opinion.

But if you will have no other book of piety besides the bible, because it is the best, how comes it, Classicus, that you don’t content yourself with one of the best books among the Greeks and Romans? How comes it that you are so eager after all of them? How comes it that you think the knowledge of one is a necessary help to the knowledge of the other? How comes it that you are so earnest, so laborious, so expensive of your time and money, to restore broken periods, and scraps of the ancients?

How comes it that you tell your young scholar, he must not content himself with barely understanding his authors, but must be continually reading them all, as the only means of entering into their spirit, and forming his own judgment according to them?

Why then must the bible lie alone in your study? Is not the spirit of the saints, the piety of the holy followers of Jesus Christ, as good and necessary a means of entering into the spirit and taste of the gospel, as the reading of the ancients is of entering into the spirit of antiquity?

Is your young poet to search after every line, that may give new wings to his fancy, or direct his imagination? And is it not as reasonable for him, who desires to improve in the divine life, to search after every strain of devotion, that may move, kindle, and inflame the holy ardour of his soul?

Do you advise your orator to translate the best orations, to commit much of them to memory, to be frequently exercising his talent in this manner, that habits of thinking and speaking justly may be formed in his mind? And is there not the same advantage to be made by books of devotion? Should not a man use them in the same way, that habits of devotion, and aspiring to God in holy thoughts, may be well formed in his soul?

Now the reason why Classicus does not think and judge thus reasonably of devotion, is owing to his never thinking of it in any other manner, than as the repeating a form of words. It never in his life entered into his head, to think of devotion as a state of the heart, as a temper that is to grow and increase like our reason and judgment, and to be formed in us by such a diligent use of proper means, as are necessary to form any other wise habit of mind.

And it is for want of this, that he has been content all his life with the bare letter of prayer, and eagerly bent upon entering into the spirit of Heathen poets and orators.

And it is much to be lamented, that numbers of scholars are more or less chargeable with this excessive folly; so negligent of improving their devotion, and so desirous of other poor accomplishments, as if they thought it a nobler talent, to be able to write an epigram in the turn of Martial, than to live, and think, and pray to God, in the spirit of St. Austin.

And yet if you was to ask Mandanus and Classicus, or any man of business or learning, whether piety is not the highest perfection of man, or devotion the greatest attainment in the world, they must both be forced to answer in the affirmative, or else give up the truth of the gospel.

17. Devotion is nothing else but right apprehensions and right affections towards God.

All practices therefore that improve our true apprehensions of God, all ways of life that tend to nourish, raise, and fix our affections upon him, are to be reckoned so many helps and means of devotion.

As prayer is the proper fuel of this holy flame, so we must use all our care to give prayer its full power; as by alms, self-denial, frequent retirements, and holy readings, composing forms for ourselves, or using the best we can get, adding length of time, and observing hours of prayer; changing, improving, and suiting our devotions to the condition of our lives, and the state of our hearts.

Those who have most leisure, seem more especially called to a more eminent observance of this; and they, who by the necessity of their state, have but little time to employ thus, must make the best use of that little they have.

18. There is one thing more I would advise; and that is, to begin your prayers with a psalm.

I don’t mean, that you should read over a psalm, but that you should chant or sing one.

The difference between singing and reading a psalm, will be easily understood, if you consider the difference between reading and singing a common song that you like. Whilst you only read it, you only like it; but as soon as you sing it, you feel the same spirit within you, that there seems to be in the words.

You will perhaps say, you cannot sing.

This objection might be of weight, if you was desired to sing to entertain other people; but it is not to be admitted in the present case, where you are only advised to sing the praises of God in private.

Do but so live, that your heart may truly rejoice in God, that it may feel itself affected with the praises of God; and then you will find, that this state of your heart will neither want a voice, nor ear, to find a tune for a psalm.

19. *The union of soul and body, is not a mixture of their substances, as we see bodies united and mixed together, but consists solely in the mutual power that they have of acting upon one another.

*If two persons were in such a state of dependance upon one another, that neither of them could act, or move, or think, or feel, or suffer, or desire any thing, without putting the other into the same condition, one might properly say, that they were in a state of strict union, altho’ their substances were not united together.

*Now this is the union of the soul and body; the substance of the one cannot be mixed or united with the other; but they are held together in such a state of union, that all the actions and sufferings of the one, are at the same time the actions and sufferings of the other. The soul has no thought or passion, but the body is concerned in it; the body has no action or motion, but what, in some degree, affects the soul.

Now, as it is the sole will of God, that is the cause of all the powers and effects which you see in the world; as the sun gives light and heat, not because it has any natural power of so doing; as it is fixed in a certain place, and other bodies moving about it; not because it is in the nature of the sun to stand still, and in the nature of other bodies to move about it; but merely because it is the will of God, that they should be in such a state: as the eye is the organ, or instrument of seeing, not because the skins, and coats, and humours of the eye, have a natural power of giving sight: as the ears are the organs, or instruments of hearing, not because the make of the ear has any natural power over sounds, but merely because it is the will of God, that seeing and hearing should be thus received; so it is the sole will of God, that is the cause of this union betwixt the soul and the body.

20. If you rightly apprehend this short account of the union of the soul and body, you will see a great deal into the reason of all the outward parts of religion.

This union of our souls and bodies, is the reason both why we have so little and so much power over ourselves. It is owing to this, that we have so little power over our souls: for as we cannot prevent the effects of external objects upon our bodies; as we cannot command outward causes; so we cannot always command the inward state of our minds; because, as outward objects act upon our bodies without our leave, so our bodies act upon our minds by the laws of the union vital. And thus you see it is owing to this union, that we have so little power over ourselves.

On the other hand, it is owing to this union, that we have so much power over ourselves. For as our souls in a great measure depend upon our bodies; and as we have great power over these; as we can mortify our bodies, and remove ourselves from objects that inflame our passions; so we have a great power over the inward state of our souls. Again, as the outward acts of reading, praying, singing, and the like, have an effect upon the soul; so by being masters of these outward, bodily actions, we have great power over the inward state of the heart.

And thus it is owing to this union, that we have so much power over ourselves.

Now from this you may see the benefit of singing psalms, and of all the outward acts of religion; for if the body has so much power over the soul, all such bodily actions as affect the soul, are of great weight in religion, because they are proper to support that spirit, which is the true worship of God.

21. This doctrine may be easily carried too far; for by calling in too many outward means of worship, it may degenerate into superstition. But some have fallen into the contrary extreme. Because religion is justly placed in the heart, they renounce vocal prayer, and other outward acts of worship, and resolve all religion into a quietism, or mystic intercourse with God in silence.

But since we are neither all soul, nor all body; seeing none of our actions are either separately of the soul, or separately of the body; if we would truly prostrate ourselves before God, we must use our bodies to postures of lowliness. If we desire true fervours of devotion, we must make prayer the frequent labour of our lips. If we would feel inward joy and delight in God, we must practise all the outward acts of it, and make our voices call upon our hearts.

Now therefore, you may plainly see the reason of singing of psalms; it is because outward actions are necessary to support inward tempers.

22. I have been the longer upon this head, because of its importance to true religion. For there is no state of mind so excellent, as that of thankfulness to God; and consequently, nothing is of more importance than that which exercises and improves this habit of mind.

*An uneasy, complaining spirit, which is sometimes the spirit of those that seem careful of religion, is yet of all tempers the most contrary to religion; for it disowns that God which it pretends to adore. For he sufficiently disowns God, who does not adore him as a being of infinite goodness.

*If a man does not believe that all the world is as God’s family, where nothing happens by chance, but all is guided and directed by the care and providence of a being that is all love and goodness to all his creatures; if a man does not believe this from his heart, he cannot be said to believe in God. And yet he that has this faith, has faith enough to be always thankful to God. For he that believes every thing happens to him for the best, cannot complain for the want of something that is better.

If therefore you live in murmurings and complaints, it is not because you are a weak, infirm creature, but it is because you want the first principle of religion, a right belief in God. For as thankfulness is an express acknowledgement of the goodness of God towards you; so repinings and complaints are as plain accusations of God’s want of goodness towards you.

*On the other hand, would you know who is the greatest saint in the world? It is not he who prays most, or fasts most; it is not he who gives most alms, or is most eminent for temperance, chastity, or justice; but it is he who is always thankful to God, who wills every thing that God willeth, who receives every thing as an instance of God’s goodness, and has a heart always ready to praise God for it.

All prayer and devotion, fastings and repentance, meditation and retirement, all sacraments and ordinances, are but so many means to render the soul thus conformable to the will of God, and to fill it with thankfulness and praise for every thing that comes from God. This is the perfection of all virtues; and all virtues that do not tend to it, or proceed from it, are but so many false ornaments of a soul not converted unto God.

23. If any one would tell you the shortest, surest way to all happiness, he must tell you to thank and praise God for every thing that happens to you. For whatever seeming calamity happens, if you thank and praise God for it, you turn it into a blessing. Could you therefore work miracles, you could not do more for yourself, than by this thankful spirit; for it heals with a word speaking, and turns all that it touches into happiness.

If therefore you would be so true to your interest, as to propose this thankfulness as the end of all your religion; if you would but settle it in your mind, that this was the state that you was to aim at by all your devotions, you would then have something plain and visible to walk by, and might judge of your improvement in piety. For so far as you renounce all motions of your own will, and seek for no other happiness, but in the thankful reception of every thing that happens to you, so far you have advanced in piety.

And altho’ this be the highest temper that you can aim at; yet it is not tied to any time, or place, or great occasion, but is always in your power, and may be the exercise of every day. For the common events of every day are sufficient to discover and exercise this temper, and may plainly shew you how far you are governed in all your actions by this thankful spirit.

24. It may perhaps be objected, that tho’ the benefit of this practice is apparent; yet it seems not so fit for private devotions, since it can hardly be performed without making our devotions public.

It is answered, first, that great numbers of people have it in their power to be as private as they please; such persons therefore are excluded from this excuse.

Secondly, Numbers of people are by the necessity of their state, as servants, apprentices, prisoners, and families in small houses, forced to be continually in the presence of somebody or other.

Now are such persons to neglect their prayers, because they cannot pray without being seen? Are they not rather obliged to be more exact in them, that others may not be witnesses of their neglect, and so corrupted by their example?

And what is here said of devotion, may surely be said of singing a psalm.

The rule is this: Don’t pray that you may be seen of men; but if your confinement obliges you to be always in the sight of others, be more afraid of being seen to neglect, than of being seen to have recourse to prayer.

Thirdly, Either people can use such privacy in this practice, as to have no hearers, or they cannot. If they can, then this objection vanishes as to them; and if they cannot, they should consider their confinement, and the necessities of their state, as the confinement of a prison; and then have an excellent pattern to follow: they may imitate St. Paul and Silas, who sang praises to God in prison, tho’ we are expresly told, that the prisoners heard them. They did not refrain this kind of devotion, for fear of being heard by others. If therefore any one is in the same necessity, either in prison or out of prison, what can he do better, than to follow this example?

Fourthly, The privacy of our prayers is not destroyed by our having, but by our seeking witnesses of them.

If therefore nobody hears you but those you cannot separate yourself from, you are as much in secret, and your Father who seeth in secret, will as truly reward your secrecy, as if you was seen by him alone.

CHAP. XIII.

Recommending devotions at nine o’clock in the morning, called in scripture, the third hour of the day. The subject of these prayers may be humility.

I AM now come to another hour of prayer, which in scripture is called the third hour of the day; but according to our way of numbering the hours, it is called the ninth hour of the morning.

But if the practice of the saints in all ages, if the customs of the pious Jews and primitive Christians be of any force with us, we have authority enough to persuade us, to make this hour a constant season of devotion.

I have in the last chapter laid before you the excellency of praise and thanksgiving, and recommended that as the subject of your first devotions in the morning.

And because humility is the life and soul of piety, the ground and security of all holy affections, this may be the subject of your devotions at this hour.

This virtue is so essential to the right state of our souls, that there is no pretending to a reasonable or pious life without it. We may as well think to see without eyes, or live without breath, as to live in the spirit of religion, without the spirit of humility.

But altho’ it is the soul and essence of all religious duties; yet is it, generally speaking, the least understood, the least regarded, the least intended, the least desired, and sought after, of all other virtues.

*No people have more occasion to be afraid of the approaches of pride, than those who have made some advances in a pious life. For pride can grow as well upon our virtues as our vices, and steal upon us on all occasions.

Every good thought we have, every good action we do, lays us open to pride.

*It is not only the beauty of our persons, the gifts of fortune, our natural talents, and the distinctions of life; but even our devotions and alms, our fastings and humiliations, expose us to fresh temptations of this evil spirit.

And it is for this reason, I so earnestly advise every devout person to the exercise of humility, that he may not fall a sacrifice to his own progress in those virtues, which are to save mankind from destruction.

As all virtue is founded in truth; so humility is a true sense of our weakness, misery, and sin.

*The weakness of our state appears from our inability to do any thing of ourselves. In our natural state we are entirely without any power; we are indeed active beings, but can only act by a power, that is every moment lent us from God.

We have no more power of our own to move a hand, or stir a foot, than to move the sun, or stop the clouds.

*When we speak a word, we feel no more power in ourselves to do it, than we feel ourselves able to raise the dead. For we act no more within our own power, or by our own strength, when we speak a word, or make a sound, than the apostles acted within their own power, or by their own strength, when a word from their mouth cast out devils, and cured diseases.

As it was solely the power of God that enabled them to speak to such purposes, so it is solely the power of God that enables us to speak at all.

This is the dependent, helpless poverty of our state, which is a great reason for humility. For since we neither are, nor can do any thing of ourselves; to be proud of any thing that we are, or of any thing that we can do, and to ascribe glory to ourselves for these things, has the guilt both of stealing and lying. It has the guilt of stealing, as it gives to ourselves those things which only belong to God. It has the guilt of lying, as it is denying the truth of our state, and pretending to be something that we are not.

♦3. The misery of our condition appears in this, that we use these borrowed powers of our nature, to the torment and vexation of ourselves, and our fellow creatures.

♦ Numbers 1. and 2. omitted in text.

*God has entrusted us with reason, and we use it to the disorder and corruption of our nature. We reason ourselves into all kinds of folly and misery, and make our lives the sport of foolish and extravagant passions: seeking after imaginary happiness in all kinds, creating to ourselves a thousand wants, amusing our hearts with false hopes and fears, using the world worse than irrational animals, envying, vexing, and tormenting one another with restless passions, and unreasonable contentions.

Let any man but look back upon his own life, and see what use he has made of his reason. What foolish passions, what vain thoughts, what needless labours, what extravagant projects, have taken up the greatest part of his life: how foolish he has been in his words and conversation; how seldom he has been able to please himself, and how often he has displeased others; how often he has changed his counsels, hated what he loved, and loved what he hated; how often he has been enraged and transported at trifles, pleased and displeased with the very same things, and constantly changing from one vanity to another. Let a man but take this view of his own life, and he will see cause enough to confess, that pride was not made for man.

*Let him but consider, that if the world knew all that of him, which he knows of himself; if they saw what vanity and passions govern his inside, and what secret tempers sully and corrupt his best actions, he would have no more pretence to be honoured and admired for his goodness and wisdom, than a rotten and distempered body to be loved and admired for its health and comeliness.

4. This is so true, and so known to the hearts of almost all people, that nothing would appear more dreadful to them, than to have their hearts thus fully discovered to the eyes of all beholders.

And perhaps there are very few people in the world, who would not rather chuse to die, than to have all their secret follies, the vanity of their minds, the frequency of their vain and disorderly passions, their uneasiness, hatreds, envies, and vexations, made known unto the world.

And shall pride be entertained in a heart thus conscious of its own miserable behaviour?

*Shall a creature in such a condition, that he could not support himself under the shame of being known to the world in his real state; shall such a creature, because his shame is only known to God, to holy angels, and his own conscience; shall he, in the sight of God and holy angels, dare to be vain and proud of himself?

5. If to this we add the shame and guilt of sin, we shall find still a greater reason for humility.

No creature that had lived in innocence, would have thereby got any pretence for pride; because, as a creature, all that it is, or has, or does, is from God, and therefore the honour of all that belongs to it is only due to God.

But if a creature that is a sinner, deserving nothing but pains and punishments for the shameful abuse of his powers; if such a creature pretends to glory for any thing that he is, or does, he can only be said to glory in his shame.

Now, how monstrous and shameful the nature of sin is, is sufficiently apparent from that great atonement that is necessary to cleanse us from the guilt of it.

Nothing less has been required to take away the guilt of our sins, than the sufferings and death of the Son of God. Had he not taken our nature upon him, our nature had been for ever separated from God, and incapable of ever appearing before him.

And is there any room for pride, whilst we are partakers of such a nature as this?

*Have our sins rendered us so abominable ♦to him that made us, that he could not so much as receive our prayers, or admit our repentance, till the Son of God made himself man, and became a suffering advocate for our whole race; and can we, in this state, pretend to high thoughts of ourselves? Shall we presume to take delight in our own worth, who are not worthy so much as to ask pardon for our sins, without the mediation and intercession of the Son of God?

♦ duplicate word removed ‘to’

Thus deep is the foundation of humility laid, in these deplorable circumstances of our condition; which shew, that it is as great an offence against truth for a man, to lay claim to any degrees of glory, as to pretend to the honour of creating himself. If man will boast of any thing as his own, he must boast of his misery and sin; for there is nothing else but this, that is his own property.

6. Turn your eyes towards heaven, and fancy that you saw what is doing there; that you saw cherubim and seraphim, and all the glorious inhabitants of that place, all united in one work; not seeking glory from one another, not labouring their own advancement, not contemplating their own perfections, not singing their own praises, not valuing themselves, and despising others, but all employed in one and the same work, all happy in one and the same joy; casting down their crowns before the throne of God, giving glory, and honour, and power to him alone. Rev. iv. 10, 11.

Then turn your eyes to the fallen world, and consider how unreasonable and odious it must be, for such poor worms, such miserable sinners, to take delight in their own fancied glories, whilst the highest and most glorious sons of heaven seek for no other greatness and honour, but that of ascribing all honour and greatness, and glory to God alone?

*Pride is only the disorder of the fallen world, it has no place amongst other beings; it can only subsist where ignorance and sensuality, lies and falshood, lusts and impurity reign.

Let a man, when he is most delighted with his own figure, contemplate our blessed Lord stretched out, and nailed upon a cross: and then let him consider how absurd it must be, for a heart full of pride and vanity, to pray to God, through the sufferings of a crucified Saviour?

These are the reflections you are often to meditate upon, that you may walk before God in such a spirit of humility, as becomes the meak, miserable, and sinful state of all that are descended from fallen Adam.

7. But you must not content yourself with this, as if you was therefore humble, because you acknowledge the reasonableness of humility, and declare against pride.

You would not imagine yourself to be devout, because in your judgment you approved of prayers, and often declared your mind in favour of devotion. Yet how many people imagine themselves humble enough, for no other reason, but because they often commend humility, and make vehement declarations against pride?

Cæcus is a rich man, of good birth, and very fine parts; is very full of every thing that he says or does, and never imagines it possible for such a judgment as his to be mistaken. He can bear no contradiction, and discovers the weakness of your understanding, as soon as ever you oppose him. Cæcus would have been very religious, but that he always thought he was so.

There is nothing so odious to Cæcus as a proud man; and the misfortune is, that in this he is so very quicksighted, that he discovers in almost everybody, some strokes of vanity.

On the other hand, he is exceeding fond of humble and modest persons. Humility, says he, is so amiable a quality, that it forces our esteem wherever we meet with it. There is no possibility of despising the meanest person that has it, or of esteeming the greatest man that wants it.

Cæcus no more suspects himself to be proud, than he suspects his want of sense. And the reason of it is, because he always finds himself so in love with humility, and so enraged at pride.

It is very true, Cæcus, you speak sincerely when you say you love humility, and abhor pride. You are no hypocrite, you speak the true sentiments of your mind; but then take this along with you, you only love humility, and hate pride, in other people. You never once in your life thought of any other humility, or of any other pride, than that which you have seen in other people.

8. The case of Cæcus is a common case: many people live in all the instances of pride, and yet never suspect themselves, because they dislike proud people, and are pleased with humility and modesty, wherever they find them.

All their speeches in favour of humility, and all their railings against pride, are looked upon as effects of their own humble spirit.

Whereas in truth, these are so far from being proofs of humility, that they are great arguments of the want of it.

*For the fuller of pride any one is himself, the more impatient will he be at the smallest instances of it in other people. And the less humility any one has in his own mind, the more will he demand it in other people.

*You must therefore act by a quite contrary measure, and reckon yourself only so far humble, as you impose every instance of humility upon yourself, and never call for it in other people. So far an enemy to pride, as you never spare it in yourself, nor ever censure it in other persons.

The loving humility is of no benefit to you, but so far as all your own thoughts, words, and actions are governed by it. And the hating of pride does you no good, but so far as you hate to harbour any degree of it in your own heart.

Now in order to set out in the practice of humility, you must take it for granted, that you are proud, that you have been so all your life.

You should believe also, that it is your greatest weakness, that your heart is most subject to it; that it is so constantly stealing upon you, you have reason to suspect its approaches in all your actions.

For there is no one vice that is more deeply rooted in our nature, or that receives such constant nourishment from almost every thing that we think or do; there being hardly any thing in the world that we want or use, or any action or duty of life, but pride finds some means or other to take hold of it. So that at what time soever we begin to offer ourselves to God, we can hardly be surer of any thing, than that we have a great deal of pride to repent of.

If therefore you find it disagreeable to entertain this opinion of yourself, and that you cannot put yourself amongst those that want to be cured of pride, you may be as sure, as if an angel from heaven had told you, that you have not only much, but all your humility to seek.

*For you can have no greater sign of a confirmed pride, than when you think that you are humble enough. He that thinks he loves God enough, shews himself to be an entire stranger to that holy passion; so he that thinks he has humility enough, shews that he is not so much as a beginner in the practice of true humility.

9. Every person, therefore, when he first applies himself to the exercise of humility, must consider himself as a learner, who is, to learn something that is contrary to all his former tempers and habits of mind.

He has not only much to learn; but he has also a great deal to unlearn: he is to forget, and lay aside his own spirit, which has been a long while fixing and forming itself; he must forget and depart from abundance of passions and opinions, which the fashion, and vogue, and spirit of the world, have made natural to him.

He must lay aside the opinions and passions which he has received from the world; because the vogue and fashion of the world, by which we have been carried away, as in a torrent, before we could pass right judgments of the value of things, is utterly contrary to humility.

The devil is called, in scripture, the prince of this world; because he has great power in it, because many of its rules and principles are invented by this evil spirit, to separate us from God, and prevent our return to happiness.

Now, according to the spirit of this world, whose corrupt air we have all breathed, there are many things that pass for great, and honourable, and desirable, which yet are so far from being so, that the true greatness and honour of our nature consists in the not desiring them.

To abound in wealth, to have fine houses and rich cloaths, to be attended with splendour and equipage, to be beautiful in our persons, to have titles of dignity, to be above our fellow creatures, to command the bows and obeisance of other people, to be looked on with admiration, to subdue all that oppose us, to set out ourselves in as much splendour as we can, to live highly and magnificently, to eat and drink, and delight ourselves in the most costly manner, these are the great, the honourable, the desirable things, to which the spirit of the world turns the eyes of all people. And many a man is afraid of not engaging in the pursuit of them, lest the world should take him for a fool.

10. The history of the gospel, is chiefly the history of Christ’s conquest over this spirit of the world. And the number of true Christians, is only the number of those who, following the Spirit of Christ, have lived contrary to the spirit of the world.

If any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. Again, Whosoever is born of God, overcometh the world. Set your affections on things above, and not on things of the earth; for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. This is the language of the whole New Testament. This is the mark of Christianity; you are to be dead, that is, dead to the spirit and temper of the world, and live a new life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.

But notwithstanding the plainness of these doctrines, most Christians live and die slaves to the customs and tempers of the world.

How many people swell with pride and vanity, for such things as they would not value at all, but that they are admired in the world?

Would a man take ten years more drudgery in business, to add two horses more to his coach, but that he knows that the world admires a coach and six? How fearful are many people of having their houses poorly furnished, or themselves meanly cloathed, for this only reason, lest the world should place them amongst low and mean people?

Many a man would drop a resentment, and forgive an affront, but that he is afraid, if he should, the world would not forgive him.

How many would practise Christian temperance and sobriety, were it not for the censure which the world passes upon such a life?

Others have frequent intentions of living up to the rules of Christian perfection; but they are frighted, by considering what the world would say of them?

11. Thus they dare not attempt to be eminent in the sight of God, for fear of being little in the eyes of the world.

From this quarter arises the greatest difficulty of humility, because it cannot subsist in any mind, but so far as it is dead to the world.

You can make no stand against the assaults of pride, humility can have no place in your soul, ’till you stop the power of the world over you, and resolve against a blind obedience to its laws.

For indeed, as great as the power of the world is, it is all built upon a blind obedience.

Ask who you will, learned or unlearned, every one seems to know and confess, that the general temper and spirit of the world, is nothing else but humour, folly, and extravagance.

Who will not own, that the wisdom of philosophy, the piety of religion, was always confined to a small number? And is not this expresly owning, that the common spirit and temper of the world, is neither according to the wisdom of philosophy, nor the piety of religion?

Therefore you should not think it a hard saying, that in order to be humble, you must withdraw your obedience from that vulgar spirit which gives laws to fops and coquets, and form your judgments according to the wisdom of philosophy, and the piety of religion.

12. *Again, to lessen your regard to the opinion of the world, think how soon the world will disregard you, and have no more thought or concern about you, than about the poorest animal that died in a ditch.

*Your friends, if they can, may bury you with some distinction, and set up a monument to let posterity see that your dust lies under such a stone; and when that is done, all is done. Your place is filled up by another; the world is just in the same state it was; you are blotted out of its sight, and as much forgotten by the world as if you had never belonged to it.

*Think upon the rich, the great, and the learned persons, that have made great figures, and been high in the esteem of the world; many of them died in your time, and yet they are sunk, and lost, and gone, and as much disregarded by the world, as if they had been only so many bubbles of water.

Think again, how many poor souls see heaven lost, and lie now expecting a miserable eternity, for their homage to a world, that thinks itself every whit as well without them, and is just as merry as it was when they were in it.

Is it therefore worth your while to lose the smallest degree of virtue, for the sake of pleasing so bad a master, and so false a friend as the world is?

Is it worth your while to bow the knee to such an idol as this, that so soon will have neither eyes, nor ears, nor a heart to regard you, instead of serving that great, and holy, and mighty God, that will make all his servants partakers of his own eternity?

Will you let the fear of a false world, that has no love for you, keep you from the fear of that God, who has only created you, that he may love and bless you to all eternity?

13. Consider our blessed Lord’s words, They are not of this world, as I am not of this world. This is the state of Christianity, with regard to this world. If you are not thus out of, and contrary to the world, you want the distinguishing mark of Christianity; you don’t belong to Christ, but by being out of the world as he was out of it.

We may deceive ourselves, if we please, with softening comments upon these words; but they are and will be understood in their first simplicity and plainness, by every one that reads them in the same spirit that our blessed Lord spoke them. And to understand them in any lower meaning, is to let carnal wisdom explain away that doctrine, by which itself was to be destroyed.

Christianity has placed us out of, and above the world; and we fall from our calling, as soon as we fall into the tempers of the world.

Now as it was the spirit of the world that nailed our blessed Lord to the cross; so every man that has the Spirit of Christ, that opposes the world as he did, will certainly be crucified by the world some way or other.

For Christianity still lives in the same world that Christ did; and these two will be utter enemies, till the kingdom of darkness is entirely at an end.

Had you lived with our Saviour as his true disciple, you had then been hated as he was; and if you now live in his Spirit, the world will be the same enemy to you now, that it was to him then.

14. If ye were of the world, saith our blessed Lord, the world would love its own; but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you. John xv. 19.

We are apt to lose the true meaning of these words, by considering them only as an historical description of something that was the state of our Saviour and his disciples at that time. But this is reading the scripture as a dead letter: for they as exactly describe the state of true Christians at this, and all other times, to the end of the world.

For as true Christianity is nothing else but the Spirit of Christ; so whether that Spirit appear in the person of Christ himself, or his apostles, or followers in any age, it is the same thing; whoever hath his Spirit, will be hated, despised, and condemned by the world, as he was.

For the world will always love its own, and none but its own: this is as certain and unchangeable, as the contrariety betwixt light and darkness.

15. You will perhaps say, that the world is now become Christian, at least that part of it where we live; and therefore the world is not now to be considered in that state of opposition to Christianity, as when it was Heathen.

*It is granted, the world now professeth Christianity. But will any one say, that this Christian world is of the Spirit of Christ? Are its general tempers the tempers of Christ? Are the passions of sensuality, self-love, pride, covetousness, ambition, and vain-glory, less contrary to the spirit of the gospel, now they are among Christians, than when they were among Heathens? Or, will you say, that the tempers and passions of the Heathen world are lost and gone?

16. And indeed the world, by professing Christianity, is so far from being a less dangerous enemy than it was before, that it has by its favours destroyed more Christians, than ever it did by the most violent persecution.

We must therefore be so far from considering the world as in a state of less enmity and opposition to Christianity, than it was in the first times of the gospel, that we must guard against it as a more dangerous enemy now, than it was in those times.

It is a greater enemy, because it has greater power over Christians by its favours, riches, honours, rewards, and protections, than it had by the fire and fury of its persecutions.

It is a more dangerous enemy, by having lost its appearance of enmity. Its outward profession of Christianity makes it no longer considered as an enemy; and therefore the generality of people are easily persuaded to resign themselves up to be governed and directed by it.

How many consciences are kept at quiet, upon no other foundation, but because they sin under the authority of the Christian world?

How many directions of the gospel lye by unregarded? And how unconcernedly do particular persons read them, for no other reason, but because they seem unregarded by the Christian world?

How many compliances do people make to the Christian world, without any hesitation, or remorse; which, if they had been required of them only by Heathens, would have been refused, as contrary to the holiness of Christianity?

Who could be content with seeing how contrary his life is to the gospel, but because he sees that he lives as the Christian world doth?

17. There is nothing therefore, that a Christian ought more constantly to guard against, than the authority of the Christian world.

And all the passages of scripture, which represent the world as contrary to Christianity, which require our separation from it, as from a monster of iniquity, are to be taken in the strict sense, in relation to the present world.

For the change that the world has undergone, has only altered its methods, but not lessened its power of destroying religion.

Whilst pride, sensuality, covetousness, and ambition, had only the authority of the Heathen world, Christians were thereby made more intent upon the contrary virtues. But when pride, sensuality, covetousness and ambition, have the authority of the Christian world, then private Christians are in the utmost danger, not only of being shamed out of the practice, but of losing the very notion of the piety of the gospel.

There is therefore hardly any possibility of saving yourself from the present world, but by considering it as the same enemy to all true holiness, as it is represented in the scriptures; and by assuring yourself, that it is as dangerous to conform to its tempers and passions, now it is Christian, as when it was Heathen.

Need a man do more to make his soul unfit for the mercy of God, than by being greedy and ambitious of honour? Yet how can you renounce this temper, without renouncing the spirit and temper of the world, in which you now live?

How can a man be made more incapable of the Spirit of Christ, than by a wrong value for money; and yet how can he be more wrong in his value of it, than by following the authority of the Christian world?

*Nay, in every order and station of life, whether of learning or business, either in church or state, you cannot act up to the spirit of religion, without renouncing the most general temper and behaviour of those, who are of the same order and business as yourself.

*And though human prudence seems to talk mighty wisely about the necessity of avoiding particularities, yet he that dares not be so weak as to be particular, will be obliged to avoid the most substantial duties of Christian piety.

These reflections, will, I hope, help you to break through those difficulties, and resist those temptations, which the authority and fashion of the world hath raised against the practice of Christian humility.

CHAP. XIV.

Shewing how the education which men generally receive, makes the doctrines of humility difficult to be practised. The spirit of a better education represented in the character of Paternus.

1.ANOTHER difficulty in the practice of humility, arises from our education. We are corruptly educated, and then committed to take our course in a corrupt world; so that it is no wonder, if examples of great piety are so seldom seen.

Great part of the world are undone, by being born and bred in families that have no religion.

But this is not the thing I now mean; the education that I here intend, is such as children generally receive from virtuous parents, and learned tutors and governors.

*Had we continued perfect, as God created the first man, perhaps the perfection of our nature had been a sufficient self-instruction for every one. But as sickness and diseases have created the necessity of medicines and physicians, so the disorder of our rational nature has introduced the necessity of education and tutors.

*And as the only end of the physician is, to restore nature to its own state; so the only end of education is, to restore our rational nature to its proper state. Education therefore is to be considered as reason borrowed at second hand, which is, as far as it can, to supply the loss of original perfection. And as physic may justly be called the art of restoring health, so education should be considered in no other light, than as the art of recovering to man the use of his reason.

2. Now as the instruction of every art or science is founded upon the wisdom, experience, and maxims of the several great men that have laboured in it; so that right use of our reason, which young people should be called to by their education, is nothing but the best experience, and finest reasonings of men, that have devoted themselves to the improvement of human nature.

All therefore that great saints and dying men, when the fullest light and conviction, and after the highest improvement of their reason, have said of the necessity of piety, of the excellency of virtue, of the emptiness of riches, of the vanity of the world; all the sentences, judgments, reasonings and maxims of the wisest philosophers, when in their highest state of wisdom, should constitute the common lessons of instruction for youthful minds.

This is the only way to make the young and ignorant part of the world the better for the wisdom and knowledge of the wise and ancient.

3. *The youths that attended upon Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and Epictetus, were thus educated. Their every day lessons and instructions were so many lectures upon the nature of man, his true end, and the right use of his faculties; upon the immortality of the soul, its relation to God, the beauty of virtue, and its agreeableness to the divine nature; upon the necessity of temperance, fortitude, and generosity, and the shame and folly of indulging our passions.

*Now as Christianity has, as it were, new-created the moral and religious world, and set every thing that is reasonable, wise, holy and desirable, in its true point of light: so one would expect, that the education of youth should be as much bettered and amended by Christianity, as the doctrines of religion are amended by it.

*As it has introduced a new state of things, and so fully informed us of the nature of man, and the end of his creation; as it has fixed all our goods and evils, taught us the means of purifying our souls, pleasing God, and becoming eternally happy; one might naturally suppose, that every Christian country abounded with schools, not only for teaching a few questions and answers of a catechism, but for the forming, training and practising youths in such a course of life, as the highest precepts, the strictest rules, and the sublimest doctrines of Christianity require.

4. *An education under Pythagoras, or Socrates, had no other end, but to teach youth to think, judge, and act as Pythagoras and Socrates used.

And is it not as reasonable to suppose, that a Christian education should have no other end, but to teach youth how to think, and judge, and act according to the strictest laws of Christianity?

At least one would suppose, that in all Christian schools, the teaching youth to begin their lives in the spirit of Christianity, in such severity of behaviour, such abstinence, sobriety, humility, and devotion, as Christianity requires, should not only be more, but an hundred times more regarded, than any, or all things else.

For our educators should imitate our guardian angels, suggest nothing to our minds but what is wise and holy; help us to discover and subdue every vain passion of our hearts, and every false judgment of our minds.

And it is as reasonable to expect and require all this benefit of a Christian education, as to require that physic should strengthen all that is right in our nature, and remove that which is sickly and diseased.

5. But alas, our modern education is not of this kind.

*The first temper that we try to awaken in children, is pride; as dangerous a passion as that of lust. We stir them up to vain thoughts of themselves, and do every thing we can, to puff up their minds with a sense of their own abilities.

*Whatever way of life we intend them for, we apply to the fire and vanity of their minds, and exhort them to every thing from corrupt motives: we stir them up to action from principles of strife and ambition, from glory, envy, and a desire of distinction, that they may excel others, and shine in the eyes of the world.

And when we have taught them to scorn to be outdone by any, to bear no rival, to thirst after every instance of applause, to be content with nothing but the highest distinctions; then we begin to take comfort in them, and promise the world some mighty things from youths of such a glorious spirit.

If children are intended for holy orders, we set before them some eminent oratory whose fine preaching has made him the admiration of the age, and carried him through all the dignities and preferments of the church.

We encourage them to have these honours in their eye, and to expect the reward of their studies from them.

If the youth is intended for a trade, we bid him look at the rich men in the same trade, and consider how many now are carried in their stately coaches, who began in the same low degree as he now does. We awaken his ambition, and endeavour to give his mind a right turn, by often telling him how rich such and such a tradesman died.

If he is to be a lawyer, then we set great counsellors, lords, judges, and chancellors, before his eyes. We tell him what great fees, and great applause attend fine pleading. We exhort him to take fire at these things to raise a spirit of emulation in himself, and to be content with nothing less than the highest honours of the long robe.

6. That this is the nature of our best education, is too plain to need any proof; and I believe there are few parents, but would be glad to see these instructions daily given to their children.

And after all this, we complain of the effects of pride; we wonder to see grown men acted and governed by ambition, envy, scorn, and a desire of glory; not considering that they were all the time of their youth called upon to form all their action and industry upon the same principles.

You teach a child to scorn to be outdone, to thirst for distinction and applause; and is it any wonder that he continues to act all his life in the same manner?

*Now if a youth is ever to be so far a Christian, as to govern his heart by the doctrines of humility, I would fain know at what time he is to begin it; or, if he is ever to begin it at all, why we train him up in tempers quite contrary to it?

How dry and poor must the doctrine of humility sound to a youth, that has been spurred up to all his industry by ambition, envy, emulation, and a desire of glory and distinction? And if he is not to act by these principles when he is a man, why do we call him to act by them in his youth?

Envy is acknowledged by all people to be the most ungenerous, base and wicked passion, that can enter into the heart of man.

And is this the temper to be instilled, nourished and established in the minds of young people?

7. I know it is said, that it is not envy, but emulation, that is intended to be awakened in the minds of young men.

*But this is vainly said. For when children are taught to bear no rival, and to scorn to be outdone by any of their age, they are plainly and directly taught to be envious. For it is impossible for any one to have this scorn to be outdone, this contention with rivals, without burning with envy against all those that seem to excel him, or get any distinction from him. So that what children are taught, is rank envy, and only covered with a name of a less odious sound.

*Secondly, If envy is thus confessedly bad, and it be only emulation that is endeavoured to be awakened in children, surely there ought to be great care taken, that children may know the one from the other; that they may abominate one as a great crime, whilst they give the other admission into their minds.

But if this were to be attempted, the fineness of the distinction betwixt envy and emulation, would shew that it was easier to divide them in words, than to separate them in action.

For emulation, when it is defined in its best manner, is nothing else but a refinement upon envy, or rather the most plausible part of that black and venomous passion.

And though it is easy to separate them in the notion, yet the most acute philosopher, that understands the art of distinguishing ever so well, if he gives himself up to emulation, will certainly find himself deep in envy.

8. It is said also, that ambition, and a desire of glory, are necessary to excite young people to industry; and that if we were to press upon them the doctrines of humility, we should deject the minds, and sink them into dullness and idleness.

But these people who say this, don’t consider, that this reason, if it has any strength, is full as strong against pressing the doctrines of humility upon grown men, lest we should deject their minds, and sink them into dullness and idleness.

This reason therefore that is given, why children should not be trained up in the principles of true humility, is as good a reason why the same humility should never be required of grown men.

Again, let those people, who think that children would be spoiled, if they were not thus educated, consider this.

*Could they think, that if any children had been educated by our blessed Lord, or his holy apostles, their minds would have been sunk into dullness and idleness?

*Or could they think, that such children would not have been trained up in the profoundest principles of humility? Can they say that our blessed Lord, who was the humblest man that ever was on earth, was hindered by his humility from being the greatest example of worthy and glorious actions, that ever were done by man?

Can they say that his apostles, who lived in the humble spirit of their Master, did therefore cease to be laborious and active instruments of doing good to all the world?

A few such reflections as these, are sufficient to expose all the poor pretences for an education in pride and ambition.

9. *Paternus lived about two hundred years ago; he had but one son, whom he educated himself in his own house. As they were sitting together in the garden, when the child was ten years old, Paternus thus began to him.

The little time that you have been in the world, my child, you have spent wholly with me: and my love and tenderness to you, has made you look upon me as your only friend and benefactor, and the cause of all the comfort and pleasure you enjoy: your heart, I know, would be ready to break with grief, if you thought this was the last day that I should live with you.

But, my child, tho’ you now think yourself mighty happy, because you have hold of my hand, you are now in the hands, and under the tender care of a much greater father and friend than I am, whose love to you is far greater than mine, and from whom you receive such blessings as no mortal can give.

That God whom you have seen me daily worship; whom I daily call upon to bless both you and me, and all mankind; whose wondrous acts are recorded in those scriptures which you constantly read. That God who created the heavens and the earth; who brought a flood upon the old world; who saved Noah in the ark; who was the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; whom Job blessed and praised in the greatest afflictions; who delivered the Israelites out of the hands of the Egyptians; who was the protector of righteous Joseph, Moses, Joshua, and holy Daniel; who sent so many prophets into the world; who sent his Son Jesus Christ to redeem mankind. This God, who has done all these great things; who has created so many millions of men; who lived and died before you was born, with whom the spirits of good men that are departed this life, now live; whom infinite numbers of angels now worship in heaven. This great God, who is the Creator of worlds, of angels, and men, is your loving Father and Friend, your good Creator and Nourisher, from whom, and not from me, you received your being ten years ago, at the time that I planted that little, tender elm which you there see.

10. I myself am not half the age of this shady oak, under which we sit; many of our fathers have sat under its boughs; we have all of us called it ours in our turn, though it stands, and drops its masters, as it drops its leaves.

You see, my son, this wide and large firmament over our heads, where the sun and moon, and all the stars appear in their turns. If you was to be carried up to any of these bodies at this vast distance from us, you would still discover others as much above you, as the stars that you see here are above the earth. Were you to go up or down, east or west, north or south, you would find the same height without any top, and the same depth without any bottom.

And yet, my child, so great is God, that all these bodies added together, are but as a grain of sand in his sight. And yet you are as much the care of this great God, and Father of all worlds, and all spirits, as if he had no son but you, or there were no creature for him to love and protect but you alone. He numbers the hairs of your head, watches over you sleeping and waking, and has preserved you from a thousand dangers, which neither you nor I know ♦any thing of.

♦ duplicate word ‘any’ removed

11. How poor my power is, and how little I am able to do for you, you have often seen. Your late sickness has shewn you how little I could do for you in that state; and the frequent pains of your head, are plain proofs, that I have no power to remove them.

I can bring you food and medicines, but have no power to turn them into your relief and nourishment; it is God alone that can do this for you.

Therefore, my child, fear, and worship, and love God. Your eyes indeed cannot yet see him, but every thing you see, are so many marks of his power and presence, and he is nearer to you than any thing that you can see.

Take him for your Lord, and Father, and Friend; look up unto him as the fountain and cause of all the good that you have received through my hands; and reverence me only as the bearer and minister of God’s good things unto you; and he that blessed my Father before I was born, will bless you when I am dead.

Your youth and little mind is only yet acquainted with my family, and therefore you think there is no happiness out of it.

But, my child, you belong to a greater family than mine; you are a younger member of the family of this Almighty Father of all nations, who has created infinite orders of angels, and numberless generations of men, to be fellow-members of one and the same society in heaven.

12. You do well to reverence my authority, because God has given me power over you, to bring you up in his fear, and to do for you, as the holy fathers recorded in scripture did for their children, who are now in rest and peace with God.

I shall in a short time die, and leave you to God and yourself; and if God forgiveth my sins, I shall go to his Son Jesus Christ, and live amongst patriarchs and prophets, saints and martyrs, where I shall pray for you, and hope for your safe arrival at the same place.

Therefore, my child, meditate on these great things, and let your thoughts often leave these gardens, these fields and farms, to contemplate God and heaven, to consider angels, and the spirits of good men living in light and glory.

As you have been used to look to me in all your actions, and have been afraid to do any thing, unless you first knew my will; so let it now be your rule to look up to God in all your actions, to do every thing in his fear, and to abstain from every thing that is not according to his will.

Bear him always in your mind; teach your thoughts to reverence him in every place; for there is no place where he is not.

13. God keepeth a book of life, wherein all the actions of all men are written; your name is there, my child; and when you die, this book will be laid open before men and angels; and according as your actions are there found, you will either be received to the happiness of those holy men who have died before you, or be turned away among wicked spirits, that are never to see God any more.

Never forget this book, my son; for it is written, it must be opened, you must see it, and you must be tried by it. Strive therefore to fill it with your good deeds, that the hand-writing of God may not appear against you.

God, my child, is all love and wisdom, and goodness; and every thing that he has made, and every action that he does, is the effect of them all. Therefore you cannot please God, but so far as you strive to walk in love, wisdom and goodness. As all wisdom, love, and goodness proceeds from God; so nothing but love, wisdom, and goodness can lead to God.

When you love that which God loves, you act with him, you join yourself to him; and when you love what he dislikes, then you oppose him, and separate yourself from him. This is the true and the right way; think what God loves, and do you love it with all your heart.

14. First of all, my child, worship and adore God, think of him magnificently, speak of him reverently, magnify his providence, adore his power, frequent his service, and pray unto him constantly.

Next to this, love your neighbour, which is all mankind, with such tenderness and affection as you love yourself. Think how God loves all mankind, how merciful he is to them, how tender he is of them, how carefully he preserves them, and then strive to love the world as God loves it.

God would have all men to be happy, therefore do you will and desire the same. All men are great instances of divine love, therefore let all men be instances of your love.

But above all, my son, mark this: never do any thing through strife, or envy, or emulation, or vain-glory. Never do any thing in order to excel other people, but in order to please God, and because it is his will, that you should do every thing in the best manner that you can.

For if it is once a pleasure to you to excel other people, it will by degrees be a pleasure to you, to see other people not so good as yourself.

Banish therefore every thought of pride and distinction, and accustom yourself to rejoice in all the excellencies of your fellow-creatures, and be as glad to see any of their good actions as your own.

For as God is well pleased with their well-doings, as with yours; so you ought to desire, that every thing that is wise, and holy, and good, may be performed in as high a manner by other people, as by yourself.

15. Let this therefore be your only motive to all good actions, to do every thing in as perfect a manner as you can; for this only reason, because it is pleasing to God, who writes all your actions in a book. When I am dead, my son, you will be master of all my estate, which will be a great deal more than the necessities of one family require. Therefore, as you are to be charitable to the souls of men, and wish them the same happiness with you in heaven; so be charitable to their bodies, and endeavour to make them as happy as you upon earth.

As God has created all things for the common good of all men; so let that part of them, which is fallen to your share, be employed, as God would have all employed, for the common good of all.

Do good, my son, first of all to those that most deserve it, but remember to do good to all. The greatest sinners receive daily instances of God’s goodness towards them; he nourishes and preserves them, that they may repent, and return to him; do you therefore imitate God, and think no one too bad to receive your relief and kindness, when you see that he wants it.

16. I am teaching you Latin and Greek, not that you should desire to be a great critic, a fine poet, or an eloquent orator. I would not have your heart feel any of these desires; for the desire of these accomplishments is vanity, and the masters of them are generally vain men.

But I teach you these languages, that at proper times you may look into the history of past ages, and learn the methods of God’s providence over the world: that reading the writings ♦of the ancient sages, you may see how wisdom and virtue have been the praise of great men of all ages.

♦ duplicate word removed ‘of’

Let truth and plainness be the only ornament of your language, and study nothing but how to think of all things as they deserve, to chuse every thing that is best, to live according to reason, and to act in every part of your life in conformity to the will of God.

Study how to fill your heart full of the love of God, and the love of your neighbour, and then be content to be no deeper a scholar, no finer a gentleman, than these tempers will make you. As true religion is nothing else but simple nature governed by right reason; so it loves and requires great plainness and simplicity of life. Therefore avoid all superfluous shews, finery, and equipage, and let your house be plainly furnished with moderate conveniences. Don’t consider what your estate can afford, but what right reason requires.

17. Let your dress be sober, clean, and modest; not to set out the beauty of your person, but to declare the sobriety of your mind, that your outward garb may resemble the plainness of your heart. For it is highly reasonable, that you should be one man, all of a piece, and appear outwardly such as you are inwardly.

As to your meat and drink, in them observe the highest rules of Christian temperance and sobriety: consider your body only as the servant of your soul; and only so nourish it, that it may perform an humble and obedient service to it.

But, my son, observe this as a principal thing, which I shall remember you of as long as I live.

Hate and despise all human glory, for it is nothing else but human folly. It is the greatest snare, and the greatest betrayer that you can possibly admit into your heart.

Let every day therefore be a day of humility; condescend to all the infirmities of your fellow-creatures, cover their frailties, love their excellencies, encourage their virtues, relieve their wants, rejoice in their prosperities, compassionate their distress, receive their friendship, overlook their unkindness, forgive their malice, be a servant of servants, and condescend to do the lowest offices to the lowest of mankind.

18. *Aspire after nothing but your own purity and perfection, and have no ambition but to do every thing in so religious a manner, that you may be glad God is every where present, and sees all your actions. The greatest trial of humility, is an humble behaviour towards your equals in age, estate, and condition. Therefore be careful of all the motions of your heart towards these people. Let all your behaviour towards them be governed by unfeigned love. Have no desire to put any of your equals below you, nor any anger at those that would put themselves above you, if they are proud, they are ill of a very bad distemper; let them therefore have your tender pity, and perhaps your meekness may prove an occasion of their cure; but if your humility should do them no good, it will however be the greatest good to yourself.

Remember that there is but one man in the world, with whom you are to have perpetual contention, and be always striving to excel him, and that is yourself.

The time of practising these precepts, my child, will soon be over with you; the world will soon slip thro’ your hands, or rather you will soon slip thro’ it; it seems but the other day since I received these instructions from my dear father, that I am now leaving with you. And the God that gave me ears to hear, and a heart to receive what my father said unto me, will, I hope, give you grace to love and follow the same instructions.

CHAP XV.

Shewing how the method of educating daughters, makes it difficult for them to enter into the spirit of Christian humility. How miserably they are injured and abused by such an education. The spirit of a better education, represented in the character of Eusebia.

1.THAT turn of mind which is taught and encouraged in the education of daughters, makes it exceeding difficult for them to enter into such a sense and practice of humility, as the spirit of Christianity requireth.

*The right education of this sex is of the utmost importance. For tho’ women don’t carry on the trade and business of the world; yet as they are mothers and mistresses of families, that have for some time the care of the education of their children, they are entrusted with that which is of the greatest consequence to human life. For this reason, good or bad women are likely to do as much good or harm in the world, as good or bad men in the greatest business.

*For as the health and strength, or weakness of our bodies, is much owing to their methods of treating us when we were young; so the soundness or folly of our minds is not less owing to these first tempers and ways of thinking, which we eagerly received from the love, tenderness, authority, and constant conversation of our mothers.

*As we call our first language our mother-tongue, so we may as justly call our first tempers our mother-tempers; and perhaps it may be found more easy to forget the language, than to part entirely with those tempers which we learnt in the nursery.

2. It is therefore much to be lamented, that this sex, who have the first forming both of our bodies and minds, are not only educated in pride, but in the silliest and most contemptible part of it.

*They are not indeed suffered to dispute with us the proud prizes of arts and sciences; but we turn them over to the study of beauty and dress, and the whole world conspires to make them think of nothing else. Fathers and mothers, friends and relations, seem to have no other wish towards the little girl, but that she may have a fair skin, a fine shape, dress well, and dance to admiration.

Now if a fondness for our persons, a desire of beauty, a love of dress, be a part of pride (as surely it is a most contemptible part of it) the first step towards a woman’s humility, seems to require a repentance of her education.

For it must be owned, that, generally speaking, good parents are never more fond of their daughters, than when they see them too fond of themselves, and dressed in such a manner, as is a great reproach to the gravity and sobriety of the Christian life.

3. The church has formerly had eminent saints in that sex; and it may reasonably be thought, that it is purely owing to their poor and vain education, that this honour of their sex is for the most part confined to former ages.

*The corruption of the world indulges them in great vanity, and mankind seem to consider them in no other view, than as so many painted idols, that are to allure and gratify their passions; so that if many women are vain, light, gewgaw creatures, they have this to excuse themselves, that they are not only such as their education has made them, but such as the generality the world allows them to be.

*But then they should consider, that the friends to their vanity are no friends of theirs; that they are to live for themselves; that they have as great a share in the rational nature as men have; that they have as much reason to pretend, and as much necessity to aspire after the highest accomplishments of Christian virtue, as the gravest and wisest among Christian philosophers.

*They should consider, that they are abused, and injured, and betrayed from their only perfection, whenever they are taught, that any thing is an ornament in them, that is not an ornament in the wisest among mankind.

4. *It is generally said, that women are naturally of little and vain minds; but this I look upon to be as false, as to say, that butchers are naturally cruel: for as their cruelty is not owing to their nature, but to their way of life; so whatever littleness and vanity is in the minds of women, it is like the cruelty of butchers, a temper that is wrought into them by that life which they are taught and accustomed to lead.

And if it were true, that they were thus naturally vain and light, then how much more blameable is that education, which seems contrived to strengthen and increase this folly and weakness of their minds?

For if it were a virtue in a woman to be proud and vain of herself, we could hardly take better means to raise this passion in her, than those that are now used in their education.

5. *Matilda is a fine woman, of good breeding, and great sense. She has three daughters that are educated by herself. She will not trust them with any one else, or at any school, for fear they should learn any thing ill. She stays with the dancing-master all the time he is with them, because she will hear every thing that is said to them. She has heard them read the scriptures so often, that they can repeat great part of it without book: and there is scarce a good book of devotion, but you may find it in their closets.

Had Matilda lived in the first ages of Christianity, she had in all probability been one of the greatest saints. But as she was born in corrupt times, where she hardly ever saw a piety higher than her own; so she has many defects, and communicates them all to her daughters.

6. Matilda never was meanly dressed in her life; and nothing pleases her in dress, but that which is very rich, and beautiful to the eye.

Her daughters see her great zeal for religion, but then they see an equal earnestness for all sorts of finery. They see she is not negligent of her devotion; but then they see her more careful to preserve her complexion, and to prevent those changes which time and age threaten her with.

They are afraid to meet her, if they have missed the church; but then they are more afraid to see her, if they are not laced as straight as they can possibly be.

She often shews them her own picture, which was taken when their father fell in love with her. She tells them how distracted he was with passion at the first sight of her; and that she had never had so fine a complexion, but for the diligence of her good mother, who took exceeding care of it.

The children see so plainly the temper of their mother, that they affect to be more pleased with dress, than they really are.

They saw their eldest sister once brought to her tears, and her perverseness severely reprimanded, for presuming to say, that she thought it was better to cover the neck, than to go so far naked as the modern dress requires.

7. She stints them in their meals, and is very scrupulous of what they eat and drink, and tells them how many fine shapes she has seen spoiled in her time for want of such care.

Whenever they begin to look sanguine and healthful, she calls in the assistance of the doctor; and if physic, or issues, will keep the complexion from inclining to coarse or ruddy, she thinks them well employed.

By this means they are poor, pale, sickly, infirm creatures, vapoured through want of spirits, crying at the smallest accidents, swooning away at any thing that frights them, and hardly able to bear the weight of their best cloaths.

The eldest daughter lived as long as she could under this discipline, and died in the twentieth year of her age.

When her body was opened, it appeared that her ribs had grown into her liver, and that her other entrails were much hurt, by being crushed together with her stays; which her mother had ordered to be twitched so strait, that it has often brought tears into her eyes, whilst the maid was dressing her.

Her youngest daughter is run away with a gamester, a man of great beauty, who in dressing and dancing has no superior.

Matilda says, she should die with grief at this accident, but that her conscience tells her, she has contributed nothing to it herself. She appeals to their closets, to their books of devotion, to testify what care she has taken to establish her children in piety.

8. Now, tho’ I don’t intend to say, that no daughters are brought up in a better way than this; yet thus much may be said, that the greater part of them are not brought up so well, or accustomed to so much religion.

Their minds are turned as much to the care of their beauty and dress, without having such rules of devotion to stand against it. So that if solid piety is much wanted in that sex, it is the plain consequence of a corrupt education.

And if they are often ready to receive the first fops, beaux, and fine dancers, for their husbands, ’tis no wonder that they should like that in men, which they have been taught to admire in themselves.

Some people will perhaps say, that I am exercising too great a severity against the sex.

But reasonable persons will observe, that I spare the sex, and only arraign their education; that I not only spare them, but plead their interest, assert their honour, and only condemn that education which is so injurious thereto.

Their education I cannot spare; but the only reason is, because it is their greatest enemy, because it deprives the world of so many blessings, and the church of so many saints.

If it should here be said, that I even charge too high upon their education, and that they are not so much hurt by it, as I imagine.

It may be answered, that tho’ I don’t pretend to state the exact degree of mischief that is done by it, yet its plain and natural tendency to do harm, is sufficient to justify the most absolute condemnation of it.

9. But how possible it is to bring up daughters in a more excellent way, let the following character declare.

*Eusebia is a pious widow, well born, and well bred, and has a good estate for five daughters, whom she brings up as one entrusted by God, to fit five virgins for the kingdom of heaven. Her family has the same regulation as a religious house, and all its orders tend to the support of a constant regular devotion.

She loves them as her spiritual children, and they reverence her as their spiritual mother, with an affection far above that of the fondest friends.

She has divided part of her estate among them, that every one may be charitable out of their own stock, and each of them take it in their turns to provide for the poor and sick of the parish.

Eusebia brings them up to all kinds of labour that are proper for women, as sewing, knitting, spinning, and all other parts of housewifery; not for their amusement, but that they may be serviceable to themselves and others, and be saved from those temptations which attend an idle life.

She tells them, she had rather see them reduced to the necessity of maintaining themselves by their own work, than to have riches to excuse themselves from labour. For tho’, says she, you may be able to assist the poor without your labour, yet by your labour you will be able to assist them more.

10. If Eusebia has lived as free from sin as it is possible for human nature, it is because she is always watching and guarding against all instances of pride. And if her virtues are stronger and higher than other peoples, ’tis because they are all founded in a deep humility.

My children, says she, when your father died, I was much pitied by my friends, as having all the care of a family, and the management of an estate fallen upon me.

But my own grief was founded upon another principle: I was grieved to see myself deprived of so faithful a friend; and that such an eminent example of Christian virtues should be taken from the eyes of his children, before they were of an age to love and follow it.

But as to worldly cares, which my friends thought so heavy upon me, they are most of them of our own making, and fall away as soon as we know ourselves.

If a person in a dream is disturbed with strange appearances, his trouble is over as soon as he is awake, and sees that it was a dream.

Now, when a right knowledge of ourselves enters into our minds, it makes as great a change in all our thoughts and apprehensions, as when we awake from the wandrings of a dream.

We acknowledge a man to be mad or melancholy, who fancies himself to be glass, and so is afraid of stirring; or taking himself to be wax, dares not let the sun shine upon him.

But, my children, there are things in the world which pass for wisdom, politeness, grandeur, happiness, and fine breeding, which shew as great ignorance of ourselves, and might as justly pass for thorough madness, as when a man fancies himself to be glass or ice.

A woman that dares not appear in the world without fine cloaths, that thinks it is a happiness to have a face finely coloured, to have a skin delicately fair, that had rather die than be reduced to poverty, and be forced to work for a maintenance, is as ignorant of herself to the full, as he that fancies himself to be glass.

11. For this reason, all my discourse with you, has been to acquaint you with yourselves, and to accustom you to such books, as might best instruct you in this greatest of all knowledge.

You would think it hard, not to know the family into which you was born, what ancestors you were descended from, and what estate was to come to you; but, my children, you may know all this with exactness, and yet be as ignorant of yourselves, as he that takes himself to be wax.

For tho’ you were all of you born of my body, and bear your father’s name, yet you are all of you pure spirits. I don’t mean that you have not bodies; ♦but that all which deserves to be called you, is nothing else but spirit. A being spiritual and rational in its nature; that is as contrary to all corporeal beings, as life is contrary to death; that is made in the image of God, to live for ever, never to cease any more, but to enjoy life, and reason, and knowledge, and happiness in the presence of God, and the society of angels, and glorious spirits, to all eternity.

♦ ‘hut’ replaced with ‘but’

Every thing that you call yours, besides this spirit, is but like your cloathing; something that is only to be used for awhile, and then to end, and die, and wear away, and to signify no more to you than the cloathing and bodies of other people.

12. But, my children, you are not only in this manner spirits, but you are fallen spirits, that began your life in a state of corruption and disorder, full of tempers and passions, that blind and darken your reason, and incline you to that which is hurtful.

Your bodies are not only poor and perishing like your cloaths, but they are like ill infected cloaths, that fill you with ill diseases, which oppress the soul with sickly appetites, and vain cravings.

So that all of us are like two beings, that have, as it were, two hearts within us; with the one we see, and taste, and admire reason, and holiness; with the other we incline to pride, and vanity, and sensual delights.

If you would know the one thing necessary to all the world, it is this, to preserve and perfect all that is rational, holy, and divine in our nature, and to mortify, remove, and destroy all vanity, pride, and sensuality.

Could you think, my children, when you look at the world, and see what customs, and fashions, and pleasures, and troubles, and projects, employ the hearts and time of mankind, that things were thus?

But don’t you be affected at these things; the world is in a great dream, and but few people are awake in it.

We fancy that we fall into darkness, when we die; but alas, we are most of us in the dark till then; and the eyes of our souls only then begin to see, when our bodily eyes are closing.

13. You see then your state, my children; you are to improve and perfect the spirit that is within you; you are to prepare it for the kingdom of heaven, to nourish it with the love of God, to adorn it with good works, and to make it as holy and heavenly as you can. You are to preserve it from the errors and vanities of the world; to save it from the corruptions of the body, from those false delights and sensual tempers which the body tempts it with.

You are to nourish your spirits with pious readings, and holy meditations, with watchings, fastings, and prayers, that you may relish that eternal state which is to begin when this life ends.

As to your bodies, you are to consider them as poor, perishing things, that are corrupt at present, and will soon drop into common dust; you are to watch over them as enemies, that are always trying to betray you, and so never follow their counsel; you are to consider them as the place and habitation of your souls, and so keep them clean, and decent; you are to consider them as the servants and instruments of action, and so give them food, and rest, and raiment, that they may be strong and healthful to do the duties of a charitable, useful, pious life.

Whilst you live thus, you live like yourselves; and whenever you have less regard to your souls, or more regard to your bodies; whenever you are more intent upon adorning your persons, than upon perfecting your souls, you are much more beside yourselves, than he that had rather have a laced coat, than an healthful body.

14. For this reason, my children, I have taught you nothing that was dangerous for you to learn: I have kept you from every thing that might betray you into weakness and folly; or make you think any thing fine, but a fine mind; any thing happy, but the favour of God; or any thing desirable, but to do all the good you possibly can.

Instead of the vain, immodest entertainment of plays and operas, I have taught you to delight in visiting the sick and poor. What ♦music, and dancing, and diversions are to many in the world, that prayers and devotions, and psalms are to you. Your hands have not been employed in plaiting the hair, and adorning your persons; but in making cloaths for the naked. You have not wasted your fortunes upon yourselves; but have added your labour to them, to do more good to other people.

♦ ‘musick’ replaced with ‘music’

Instead of forced shapes, genteel airs, and affected motions, I have taught you to conceal your bodies with modest garments, and let the world have nothing to view of you, but the plainness, and sincerity, and humility of all your behaviour.

15. You know, my children, the high perfection, and the great rewards of virginity; you know how it frees from worldly cares and troubles, and furnishes means and opportunities of higher advancements in the divine life. Therefore love, and esteem, and honour virginity: bless God for all that glorious company of holy virgins, that from the beginning of Christianity have, in the several ages of the church, renounced the cares and pleasures of matrimony, to be perpetual examples of contemplation and prayer.

But as every one has their proper gift from God, as I look upon you all to be so many great blessings of a married state; so I leave to your choice, either to do as I have done, or to aspire after higher degrees of perfection in a virgin state.

I press nothing upon you, but to make the most of human life, and to aspire after perfection in whatever state you chuse.

Never therefore consider yourselves as persons that are to be seen, admired, and courted by men; but as poor sinners, that are to save yourselves from the vanities and follies of a miserable world. Learn to live for your own sakes, and the service of God; and let nothing in the world be of any value with you, but that which you can turn into a service to God, and a means of your future happiness.

16. Whether married therefore, or unmarried, consider yourselves as mothers and sisters, as friends and relations to all that want your assistance; and never allow yourselves to be idle, whilst others are in want of any thing that your hands can make for them.

This useful, charitable, humble employment of yourselves, is what I recommend to you with great earnestness; and besides the good you will thereby do to other people, your own heart will be improved by it.

For next to reading, meditation, and prayer, there is nothing that so secures our hearts from foolish passions, as some useful, humble employment of ourselves.

Never therefore consider your labour as an amusement, that is to get rid of your time, and so may be as trifling as you please; but consider it as something that is to be serviceable to yourselves and others, that is to serve some sober ends of life, to save and redeem your time, and make it turn to your account, when the works of all people shall be tried by fire.

If there is any good to be done by your labour, if you can possibly employ yourselves usefully to other people, how silly is it, how contrary to the wisdom of religion, to make that a mere amusement, which might as easily be made an exercise of the greatest charity?

What would you think of the wisdom of him, that should employ his time in distilling of waters, and making liquors which no body could use, merely to amuse himself with the variety of their colour, when, with less labour and expence, he might satisfy the wants of those who have nothing to drink?

Yet he would be as wisely employed, as those that are amusing themselves with such tedious works as they neither need, nor hardly know how to use when they are finished; when, with less labour and expence, they might be doing as much good, as he that is cloathing the naked, or visiting the sick.

Be glad therefore to know the wants of the poorest people, and let your hands be employed in making such things for them, as their necessities require. By thus making your labour a gift and service to the poor, your ordinary work will be changed into a holy service, and made as acceptable to God as your devotions.

This will make you true disciples of your meek Lord and Master, who came into the world not to be ministered unto, but to minister; and tho’ he was Lord of all, and among the creatures of his own making, yet was among them as one that serveth.

17. Christianity has then had its effect upon your hearts, when it has removed pride from you, and made you delight in humbling yourselves beneath the lowest of all your fellow creatures.

Live therefore, my children, as you have begun your lives, in humble labour for the good of others; not in ceremonious visits and vain acquaintances. Contract no foolish friendships, or vain fondnesses for particular persons; but love them most, that most turn your love towards God, and your compassion towards all the world.

But above all, avoid the conversation of fine-bred fops and beaux, and hate nothing more than the idle discourse, the flattery and compliments of that sort of men; for they are the shame of their own sex, and ought to be the abhorrence of yours.

When you go abroad, let humility, modesty, and a decent carriage, be all the state you take upon you; and let tenderness, compassion, and good-nature, be all the fine breeding you shew in any place.

If evil speaking, scandal, or backbiting, be the conversation where you happen to be, be as much grieved as if you was amongst cursing and swearing, and retire as soon as you can.

Tho’ you intend to marry, yet let the time never come, till you find a man that has those perfections which you have been labouring after yourselves; who is likely to be a friend to all your virtues, and with whom it is better to live, than to want the benefit of his example.

18. Love poverty, and reverence poor people; as for many reasons, so particularly for this, because our blessed Saviour was one of the number.

Visit and converse with them frequently; you will often find simplicity, innocence, patience, fortitude, and great piety amongst them.

Rejoice at every opportunity of doing an humble action; whether it be, as the scripture expresses it, in washing the saints feet, that is, in waiting upon, and serving those that are below you, or in bearing with the haughtiness and ill manners of those that are your equals, or above you. For there is nothing better than humility; it is the fruitful soil of all virtues, and every thing that is kind and good, naturally grows from it.

Therefore, my children, pray for, and practise, humility; and reject every thing in dress, or carriage, or conversation, that has any appearance of pride.

Strive to do every thing that is praise-worthy, but do nothing in order to be praised; nor think of any reward for your labours of love, till Christ cometh with all his holy angels.

19. And above all, my children, have a care of vain thoughts of your own virtues. For as soon as ever people live different from the common way of the world, the devil represents to their minds the height of their perfections; and is content they should excel in good works, provided he can make them proud of them.

Therefore watch over your virtues with a jealous eye, and reject every vain thought, as you would reject the most wicked imaginations; and think what a loss it would be to you, to have the fruit of all your good works devoured by the vanity of your minds.

Never therefore allow yourselves to despise those who do not follow your rules, but love them, and pray to God for them; and let humility be always whispering in your ears, that you yourselves would fall from those rules to-morrow, if God should leave you to your own strength and wisdom.

When therefore you have spent days and weeks well, do not suffer your hearts to contemplate any thing as your own, but give all the glory to God, who has carried you thro’ such rules of holy living, as you were not able to observe by your own strength; and take care to begin the next day, not as proficients in virtue, that can do great matters, but as poor beginners, that want the daily assistance of God to save you from the grossest sins.

20. Your dear father was an humble, watchful, pious, wise man. Whilst his sickness would suffer him to talk with me, his discourse was chiefly about your education. He knew the benefits of humility, he saw the ruins which pride made in our sex; and therefore he conjured me with the tenderest expressions, to renounce the fashionable ways of educating daughters in pride and softness, in the care of their beauty and dress; and to bring you all up in the plainest, simplest instances of an humble, holy, and industrious life.

He taught me an admirable rule of humility, which he practised all the days of his life; which was this, to let no morning pass, without thinking upon some frailty and infirmity of our own, that may put us to confusion, make us blush inwardly, and entertain a mean opinion of ourselves.

Think therefore, my children, that the soul of your good father, who is now with God, speaks to you through my mouth; and let the double desire of your father, who is gone, and me, who am with you, prevail upon you to love God, to study your own perfection, to practise humility, and, with innocent labour, to do all the good you can to all your fellow creatures, till God calls you to another life.

*Thus did the pious widow educate her daughters. And a very ordinary knowledge of the spirit of Christianity, may convince us, that no education can be of true advantage to young women, but that which trains them up in humble industry, in great plainness of life, in exact modesty of dress, manners and carriage, and in strict devotion. For what should a Christian woman be, but a plain, unaffected, modest, humble creature, averse to every thing in her dress and carriage, that can draw the eyes of beholders, or gratify the passions of lewd and amorous persons?

21. *These considerations may teach you to let no day pass, without a serious application to God, for the whole spirit of humility: fervently beseeching him to fill every part of your soul with it; to make it the ruling, constant habit of your mind, that you may not only feel it, but feel all your other tempers arising from it; that you may have no thoughts, no desires, no designs, but such as are the true fruits of an humble, meek, and lowly heart.

That you may always appear poor, and little, and mean in your own eyes, and fully content that others should have the same opinion of you.

That the whole course of your life, your expence, your house, your dress, your manner of eating, drinking, conversing, and doing every thing, may be so many continual proofs of the humility of your heart.

That you may look for nothing, claim nothing, resent nothing; that you may go thro’ all the actions of life calmly and quietly, as in the presence of God, looking wholly unto him, acting wholly for him; neither seeking applause, nor resenting neglects, or affronts, but doing and receiving every thing in the meek and lowly spirit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

CHAP. XVI.

Recommending devotion at twelve o’clock, called, in scripture, the sixth hour of the day. This frequency of devotion, equally desirable by all orders of people. Universal love is recommended to be the subject of prayer at this hour. Of intercession, as an act of universal love.

1.IT will, perhaps, be thought by some, that these hours of prayer come too thick, and are only fit for monasteries, or such people as have no more to do in the world than they have.

To this it is answered, this method of devotion is not pressed upon any as absolutely necessary, but recommended to all people, as the best and the happiest way of life.

And if exemplary devotion is as much the happiness and perfection of a merchant, a soldier, or a man of quality, as it is the happiness and perfection of the most retired, contemplative life, then it is as proper to recommend it without any abatements to one order of men as to another.

Here is therefore no excuse for men of business and figure. First, Because it would be to excuse them from that which is the end of living, to make them less beneficial to themselves, and less serviceable to God and the world.

*Secondly, Because most men of business and figure engage too far in worldly matters; much farther than the reasons of human life, or the necessities of the world require.

*Merchants and tradesmen, for instance, are generally ten times farther engaged in business than they need; which is so far from being a reasonable excuse for their want of time for devotion, that it is their crime, and must be censured as a blameable instance of covetousness and ambition.

Gentry, and people of figure, either give themselves up to state-employments, or to the gratifications of their passions, in a life of gaity and debauchery. And if these things might be admitted as allowable avocations from devotion, devotion must be reckoned a poor circumstance of life.

Unless gentlemen can shew, that they have another God, than the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; another nature, than that which is derived from Adam; another religion than the Christian, it is in vain to plead their state, and dignity, as reasons for not preparing their souls for God, by a strict and regular devotion.

2. If a merchant, having forbore too great business, that he might quietly attend on the service of God, should die worth twenty, instead fifty thousand pounds, could any one say, he had mistaken his calling, or gone a loser out of the world?

If a gentleman should have killed fewer foxes, been less frequent at balls, gaming, and merry meetings, because stated parts of his time had been given to retirement, to meditation, and devotion, could it be thought, that when he left the world, he would regret the loss of those hours that he had given to the improvement of his soul?

If a tradesman, by aspiring after Christian perfection, and retiring often from business, should, instead of leaving his children fortunes to spend in luxury and idleness, leave them to live by their own honest labour; could it be said that he had made a wrong use of the world, because he had more regard to that which is eternal, than to this which is so soon to be at an end?

Since therefore devotion is not only the best and most desirable practice in a cloyster, but in every state of life, they that desire to be excused from it, because they are men of figure, and estates, and business, are no wiser than those that should desire to be excused from health and happiness, because they were men of figure and estates.

3. I can’t see why every gentleman, merchant, or soldier, should not put these questions seriously to himself;

What is the best thing for me to aim at in all my actions? How shall I do to make the most of human life? What ways shall I wish that I had taken, when I am leaving the world?

Now, to be thus wise, seems but a small and necessary piece of wisdom. For how can we pretend to sense and judgment, if we dare not seriously consider, and govern our lives by that which such questions require of us?

Shall a nobleman think his birth too high, to condescend to such questions as these? Or a tradesman think his business too great, to take any care about himself?

Now, here is desired no more devotion in any one’s life, than the answering these few questions requires.

Any devotion that is not to the greater advantage of him that uses it, than any thing he can do in the room of it; any devotion that does not procure an infinitely greater good, than can be got by neglecting it, is yielded up.

But if people will live in so much ignorance, as never to put these questions to themselves, but push on a blind life at all chances, in quest of they don’t know what, or why; without ever considering the worth, or value, or tendency of their actions; without considering what God, reason, eternity, and their own happiness requires of them: it is for the honour of devotion that none can neglect it, but those who are thus inconsiderate, who dare not enquire after that which is the best and most worthy of their choice.

4. *It is true, Claudius, you are a man of figure and estate, and are to act the part of such a station in life; you are not called, as Elijah was, to be a prophet, or as St. Paul, to be an apostle.

But will you therefore not love yourself? Will you not seek and study your own happiness?

You would think it very absurd for a man not to value his own health, because he was not a ♦physician; or the preservation of his limbs, because he was not a bone-setter: yet it is more absurd for you, Claudius, to neglect the improvement of your soul, because you are not an apostle, or a bishop.

♦ ‘physycian’ replaced with ‘physician’

*Consider, we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad, 2 Cor. v. 10. Now, if your estate would excuse you from appearing before this judgment-seat; if your figure could protect you from receiving according to your works, there would be some pretence for your leaving devotion to other people: but if you, who are now thus distinguished, must then appear naked amongst common souls, without any other distinction from others, but such as your virtues or sins give you, does it not as much concern you, as any prophet, or apostle, to make the best provision for that great day?

Consider the words of St. Peter, As he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation, 1 Pet. i. 15.

If therefore, Claudius, you are one of those here called, you see what it is that you are called to. It is not to have so much religion as suits with your temper, your business, or your pleasures; it is not a particular sort of piety, that may be sufficient for gentlemen of figure and estates; but it is, first, to be holy, as he which hath called you is holy; secondly, it is to be thus holy in all manner of conversation; that is, to carry this spirit and degree of holiness into every part, and through the whole form of your life.

And the reason the apostle immediately gives, why this spirit of holiness must be the common spirit of Christians, as such, is very affecting, and such as equally calls upon all sorts of Christians. Forasmuch as ye know, that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation,—but with the precious blood of Christ.

As if he had said, forasmuch as ye know ye were made capable of this state of holiness, entered into a society with Christ, and made heirs of his glory, not by any human means, but by such a mysterious instance of love, as infinitely exceeds every thing that can be thought of in this world; since God has redeemed you to himself, and your own happiness, at so great a price, how base and shameful must it be, if you don’t henceforth devote yourselves wholly to the glory of God, and become holy as he who hath called you is holy?

5. Again, the apostle saith, Know ye not, that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s, 1 Cor. vi. 19, 20.

How poorly therefore, Claudius, have you read the scripture? How little do you know of Christianity, if you can talk of your estate and condition, as a pretence for a freer kind of life?

Are you any more your own, than he that has no estate or dignity in the world? Must mean and little people preserve their bodies as temples of the Holy Ghost, by watching, fasting, and prayer; but may you indulge yours in idleness, in lust, and sensuality, because you have so much rent, or such a title of distinction?

And you must either think thus, or else acknowledge that the holiness of saints, prophets, and apostles, is the holiness that you are to labour after with all diligence and care.

And if you leave it to others, to live in such piety and devotion, in such self-denial, humility, and temperance, as may render them able to glorify God in their body, and in their spirit; you must leave it to them also, to have the benefit of the blood of Christ.

6. Thus much being said to shew, that great devotion is not to be left to any particular sort of people, but to be the common spirit of all Christians; I now proceed to consider the nature of universal love, which is here recommended to be the subject of your devotion at this hour.

By intercession is meant a praying to God, in behalf of our fellow-creatures.

Our blessed Lord hath recommended his love to us, as the pattern of our love to one another. As therefore he is continually making intercession for us all, so ought we to intercede for one another.

A new commandment, saith he, I give unto you, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye love one another.

The newness of this precept did not consist in this, that men were commanded to love one another; for this was an old precept, both of the law of Moses, and of nature. But it was new in this respect, that it was to imitate a new, and, till then, unheard-of example of love; it was to love one another, as Christ had loved us.

And if men are to know that we are disciples of Christ, by our loving one another, according to his example; then, if we are void of this love, we make it plainly known we are none of his disciples.

7. There is no principle more acceptable to God, than an universal fervent love to all mankind, wishing and praying for their happiness; because there is no principle that makes us more like God, who is love and goodness itself, and created all beings for the enjoyment of happiness.

The greatest idea that we can frame of God is, a being of infinite love and goodness; using infinite wisdom and power for the common good and happiness of all his creatures.

The highest notion therefore that we can form of man is, when we conceive him as like God in this respect as he can be; using all his finite faculties, whether of wisdom, power, or prayers, for the common good of all his fellow-creatures: heartily desiring they may have all the happiness they are capable of, and as many assistances from him, as his condition in the world will permit him to give them.

And, on the other hand, what a baseness and iniquity is there in all instances of hatred, envy, spite and ill will; if we consider, that every instance of them, is so far acting in opposition to God, and intending mischief and harm to those creatures, which God favours, and protects, and preserves, in order to their happiness? An ill-natured man amongst God’s creatures, is the most perverse creature in the world, acting contrary to that love, by which himself subsists, and which alone gives subsistence to all that variety of beings, that enjoy life in any part of the creation.

8. Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do unto them.

Now, though this is a doctrine of strict justice, yet it is only an universal love that can comply with it.

As we have no degrees of spite or ill-will to ourselves, so we cannot be disposed towards others as we are towards ourselves, till we universally renounce all instances of spite and ill-will, even in the smallest degrees.

If we had any imperfection in our eyes, that made us see any one thing wrong, for the same reason they would shew us an hundred things wrong.

So if we have any temper of our hearts, that makes us spiteful, or ill-natured towards any one man, the same temper will make us envious, and spiteful, and ill-natured towards a great many more.

If therefore we desire this love, we must exercise our hearts in the love of all, because it is not Christian love, till it is the love of all.

If a man could keep this whole law of love, and yet offend in one point, he would be guilty of all. For as one allowed instance of injustice destroys the justice of all our other actions; so one allowed instance of envy, spite, or ill-will, renders all our other acts of affection nothing worth.

Acts of love, that proceed not from a principle of universal love, are but like acts of justice, that proceed from a heart not disposed to universal justice.

9. Now, the noblest motive to universal tenderness is this, God is love, and he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God.

Who therefore, whose heart has any tendency towards God, would not aspire after this divine temper.

How should we rejoice in the exercise of this love, which, is an assurance to us, that we act according to his Spirit, who is love itself?

God willeth the happiness of all beings, though it is no happiness to himself; therefore we must desire the happiness of all beings, tho’ no happiness cometh to us from it.

God equally delighteth in the perfections of all his creatures; therefore we should rejoice in those perfections wherever we see them, and be as glad to have other people perfect as ourselves.

10. *God, besides his own great example of love, which ought to draw all his creatures after it, has so provided for us, and made our happiness so common to us all, that we have no occasion to envy or hate one another.

For we cannot stand in one another’s way; or by enjoying our true good, keep another from his full share of it.

As we cannot be happy, but in the enjoyment of God; so we cannot rob one another of this happiness.

And as to other things, the enjoyments of this life, they are so little in themselves, so foreign to our happiness; and generally speaking, so contrary to that which they appear to be, that they are no foundation for envy, or hatred.

How silly would it be to envy a man, that was drinking poison out of a golden cup? And yet who can say, that he is acting wiser than thus, when he is envying any instance of worldly greatness?

11. *How many saints has adversity sent to heaven? And how many sinners has prosperity plunged into everlasting misery? A man seems to be in the most glorious state, when he has conquered, disgraced, and humbled his enemy; though it may be, that same conquest has saved his adversary, and undone himself.

This man had perhaps never been debauched, but for his fortune and advancement; that had never been pious, but thro’ his poverty and disgrace.

She that is envied for her beauty, may, perchance, owe all her misery to it; and another may be for ever happy, for having had no admirers of her person.

One man succeeds in every thing, and so loses all: another meets with nothing but crosses and disappointments, and thereby gains more than all the world is worth.

This clergyman may be undone by his being made a bishop; and that may save both himself and others by being fixed to his poor vicarage.

How envied was Alexander, when conquering the world, he built towns, set up his statues, and left marks of his glory in so many kingdoms!

And how despised was the poor preacher St. Paul when he was beaten with rods! And yet how strangely was the world mistaken in their judgment! How much to be envied was St. Paul! How much to be pitied was Alexander!

These few reflections shew, that the different conditions of this life have nothing in them to excite our uneasy passions, nothing that can reasonably interrupt our love and affection to one another.

12. To proceed now to another motive to this universal love.

Our power of doing external acts of love, is often very narrow and restrained. There are, it may be, but few people to whom we can contribute any worldly relief.

But tho’ our outward means of doing good are often thus limited, yet, if our hearts are full of love, we get, as it were, an infinite power; because God will attribute to us those good works, which we would have performed, had it been in our power.

You cannot heal all the sick, relieve all the poor; you cannot comfort all in distress, nor be a father to all the fatherless. You cannot, it may be, deliver many from their misfortunes, or teach them to find comfort in God.

*But if there is a love in your heart, that excites you to do all that you can; if your love has no bounds, but continually wishes and prays for the relief of all that are in distress, you will be received by God as a benefactor to those, who had nothing from you but your good-will, and tender affections.

You cannot build hospitals for the incurable; but if you join in your heart with those that do; if you are a friend to these great friends to mankind, and rejoice in their eminent virtues, you will be received by God as a sharer of such good works, as tho’ they had none of your hands, yet had all your heart.

This consideration surely is sufficient to make us watch over our hearts with all diligence: and aspire after the height of a loving, charitable, and benevolent mind.

13. And, on the other hand, we may hence learn the great evil of envy, spite, hatred, and ill-will. For if the goodness of our hearts will intitle us to the reward of good actions, which we never performed; it is certain that the badness of our hearts, will bring us under the guilt of actions that we have never committed.

*As he that lusteth after a woman shall be reckoned an adulterer, tho’ he has only committed the crime in his heart; so the malicious, spiteful, ill-natured man, that only secretly rejoices at evil, shall be reckoned a murderer, tho’ he has shed no blood.

*Since therefore our hearts, which are always naked and open to the eyes of God, give such an exceeding extent and increase, either to our virtues or vices, it is our greatest business to govern the motions of our hearts, to correct and improve the inward state of our souls.

14. Now there is nothing that so much exalts our souls, as this heavenly love; it cleanses and purifies like a holy fire, and all ill tempers fall away before it. By love, I don’t mean any natural tenderness, which is more or less in people, according to their constitutions; but a larger principle of the soul, which makes us kind to all our fellow-creatures, as creatures of God, and for his sake.

It is this love that loves all things in God, as his creatures, as the images of his power, as the creatures of his goodness, as parts of his family, as members of his society, that becomes a holy principle of all great and good actions.

These reasons sufficiently shew, that no love is holy, or religious, till it becomes universal.

For if religion requires me to love all persons, as God’s creatures, that belong to him, that bear his image, enjoy his protection, and make parts of his family and houshold; if these are the great reasons why I should live in love with any one man in the world, they are the same great reasons why I should live in love with every man in the world; and consequently, I offend against all these reasons, whenever I want love towards any one man. The sin therefore of hating or despising any one man, is like the sin of hating all God’s creation; and the necessity of loving any one man, is the same necessity of loving every man in the world. And tho’ many people may appear to us ever so sinful, odious, or extravagant in their conduct, we must never look upon that as the least motive for any contempt or disregard of them; but look upon them with the greater compassion, as being in the most pitiable condition that can be.

15. *As it was the sins of the world, that made the Son of God become a compassionate suffering Advocate for all mankind; so no one is of the Spirit of Christ, but he that has the utmost compassion for sinners. And you have never less reason to be pleased with yourself, than when you find yourself most offended at the behaviour of others. All sin is certainly to be hated; but then, we must set ourselves against sin, as we do against sickness and diseases, by shewing ourselves tender and compassionate to the sick and diseased.

*All other hatred of sin, which does not fill the heart with the softest, tenderest affections towards persons miserable in it, it is the servant of sin at the same time that it seems to be hating it.

And there is no temper which even good men ought more carefully to guard against than this. For it is a temper that lurks under the cover of many virtues, and by being unsuspected does the more mischief.

A man naturally fancies, that it is his own love of virtue that makes him not able to bear with those that want it; and when he abhors one man, despises another, and can’t bear the name of a third, he supposes it all to be a proof of his own high sense of virtue, and just hatred of sin.

And yet one would think that a man needed no other cure for this temper, than this one reflection:

That if this had been the spirit of the Son of God, if he had hated sin in this manner, there had been no redemption of the world: if God had hated sinners in this manner, the world itself had ceased long ago.

This therefore we may take for a certain rule, that the more we partake of the divine nature, and the higher our sense of virtue is, the more we shall compassionate those that want it. The sight of such people will then, instead of raising in us a haughty contempt, or peevish indignation towards them, fill us with such bowels of compassion, as when we see the miseries of an hospital.

16. That the follies therefore, and ill-behaviour of our fellow creatures, may not lessen that love which we are to have for all mankind, we should often consider the reasons on which this duty of love is founded.

Now we are to love our neighbour, that is, all mankind, not because they are wise, holy or virtuous; for all mankind never was, nor ever will be so.

Again, if their goodness were the reason of our being obliged to love people, we should have no rule to proceed by; because tho’ some people’s virtues or vices are notorious, yet, generally speaking, we are but ill judges of the virtue of other people.

Thirdly, We are sure that the virtue of persons, is not the reason of our being obliged to love them, because we are commanded to pay the highest instances of love to our worst enemies; we are to love, and bless, and pray for those that most injuriously treat us. This therefore is demonstration, that the merit of persons is not the reason on which our obligation to love them is founded.

Let us farther consider what that love is which we owe to our neighbour; it is to love him as ourselves, that is, to wish him every thing that we may lawfully wish to ourselves; to be glad of every good, and sorry for every evil that happens to him: and to be ready to do him all such acts of kindness, as we are always ready to do ourselves.

This love therefore, you see, is nothing but a love of benevolence; it requires nothing of us, but good wishes, tender affections, and such acts of kindness, as we shew to ourselves.

17. Now we are obliged to this love, in imitation of God’s goodness, that we may be children of our Father which is in heaven, who willeth the happiness of all his creatures, and maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good.

Again, our redemption, by Jesus Christ, calleth us to the exercise of this love, who came from heaven, and laid down his life, out of love, to the whole sinful world.

Lastly, Our Lord and Saviour has required us to love one another, as he loved us.

These are the great, perpetual reasons, on which our obligation to love all mankind as ourselves is founded.

These reasons never vary; they always continue in their full force; and therefore equally oblige at all times, and in regard to all persons.

God loves us, not because we are wise, and good, and holy, but in pity to us, because we want this happiness. He loves us, in order to make us good. Our love therefore must take this course; not looking for, or requiring the merit of our brethren, but pitying their disorders, and wishing them all the good that they want, and are capable of receiving.

18. You will perhaps ask, if you are not to have a particular esteem for good men? Yes; but this esteem is very different from that love of benevolence which we owe to our neighbour.

The distinction betwixt love of benevolence, and esteem, is plain and obvious.

No man is to have a high esteem for his own accomplishments or behaviour; yet every man is to love himself, that is, to wish well to himself; therefore this distinction betwixt love and esteem, is not only plain, but very necessary to be observed.

Again, if you think it hardly possible to dislike the actions of unreasonable men, and yet have a true love for them, consider this with relation to yourself.

It is very possible, for you not only to dislike, but to detest and abhor a great many of your own past actions. But do you then lose any of those tender sentiments towards yourself, which you used to have? Do you then cease to wish well to yourself? Is not the love of yourself as strong then as at any other time?

Now what is thus possible with relation to ourselves, is possible with relation to others. We may have the highest good wishes towards them, desiring for them every good that we desire for ourselves, and yet at the same time dislike their way of life.

19. To conclude, all that love which we may justly have for ourselves, we are in strict justice obliged to exercise towards all other men; and we offend against the great law of our nature, when our tempers towards others are different from those which we have towards ourselves.

Now that self-love which is just and reasonable, keeps us constantly tender, compassionate, and well-affected towards ourselves. If therefore you don’t feel these kind dispositions towards all other people, you may be assured, that you are not in that state of charity, which is the very life and soul of Christian piety.

You know how it hurts you, to be made the jest and ridicule of other people; how it grieves you to be robbed of your reputation: if therefore you expose others to scorn and contempt in any degree; if it pleases you to see or hear of their frailties and infirmities; or if you are only loth to conceal their faults, you are so far from loving such people as yourself, that you may be justly supposed to have as much hatred for them, as you have love for yourself. For such tempers are as truly the proper fruits of hatred, as the contrary tempers are the proper fruits of love.

And as it is a certain sign that you love yourself, because you are tender of every thing that concerns you; so it is as certain a sign that you hate your neighbour, when you are pleased with any thing that hurts him.

CHAP. XVII.

Of the necessity and benefit of intercession, considered as an exercise of universal love. How all orders of men are to interceed with God for one another. How such intercession amends and reforms the heart.

1.THAT intercession is a great and necessary part of Christian devotion, is very evident from scripture.

The first followers of Christ seem to support all their love, by prayers for one another.

St. Paul, whether he writes to churches, or particular persons, shews that they are the constant subject of his prayers.

Thus to the Philippians, I thank my God upon every remembrance of you: always in every prayer of mine for you all, making request with joy, Phil. i. 4, 5.

His devotion had also the same care for particular persons, as appears by the following passage: I thank my God, whom I serve from my forefathers, with a pure conscience, that, without ceasing, I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day, 2 Tim. i. 3. How holy an acquaintance and friendship was this, how worthy of persons that were raised above the world, and related to one another, as new members of a kingdom of heaven!

2. Apostles and great saints did not only thus bless particular churches, and private persons; but they themselves also received graces from God by the prayers of others. Thus saith St. Paul to the Corinthians, You also helping together by prayer for us, that for the gift bestowed upon us by the means of many persons, thanks may be given by many on our behalf, 2 Cor. i. 11.

This was the ancient friendship of Christians, uniting and cementing their hearts, not by worldly considerations, or human passions, but by the mutual communication of spiritual blessings, by prayers and thanksgivings to God for one another.

It was this holy intercession that raised Christians to such a state of mutual love, as far exceeded all that had been admired in human friendship. And when the same spirit of intercession is again in the world, this holy friendship will be again in fashion, and Christians will be again the wonder of the world, for that exceeding love which they bear to one another.

For a frequent intercession with God, earnestly beseeching him to forgive the sins of all mankind, to bless them with his providence, enlighten them with his Spirit, and bring them to everlasting happiness, is the divinest exercise that the heart of man can be engaged in.

3. Be daily therefore on your knees in a solemn, deliberate performance of this devotion, praying for others with such length, importunity, and earnestness, as you use for yourself; and you will find all little, ill-natured passions die away; and your heart will delight in the common happiness of others, as you used only to delight in your own.

For it is hardly possible for you to beseech God to make any one happy in his glory to all eternity, and yet be troubled to see him enjoy the much smaller gifts of God in this life.

But the greatest benefits of intercession are then received, when it descends to such particular instances as our state and condition in life more particularly require of us.

Tho’ we are to treat all mankind as neighbour and brethren, as occasion offers; yet as we can only live in the actual society of a few, and are more particularly related to some than others; so when our intercession is made an exercise of love and care for those amongst whom our lot is fallen, or who belong to us in a nearer relation, it then becomes the greatest benefit to ourselves.

If therefore you should always alter your intercessions, according as the needs of your neighbours or acquaintance require; beseeching God to deliver them from such or such particular evils, or to grant them this or that particular gift, or blessing; such intercessions, besides the great charity of them, would have a mighty effect upon your own heart.

4. This would make it pleasant to you to be courteous, civil, and condescending to all about you, and make you unable to say or do a rude or hard thing to those for whom you had used yourself to be so kind and compassionate in your prayers.

*For there is nothing that makes us love a man so much, as praying for him; and when you can once do this sincerely for any man, you have fitted your soul for the performance of every thing that is kind and civil towards him. This will fill your heart with a generosity and tenderness, that will give you a better and sweeter behaviour, than any thing that is called fine breeding and good manners.

By considering yourself as an advocate with God for your neighbours and acquaintance, you would never find it hard to be at peace with them yourself. It would be easy to you to bear with, and forgive those, for whom you particularly implored the divine mercy and forgiveness.

Such prayers as these amongst neighbours and acquaintance, would unite them to one another in the strongest bonds of love and tenderness. It would teach them to consider one another in a higher state, as members of a spiritual society, that are created for the enjoyment of the common blessings of God, and fellow heirs of the same glory.

And by being thus desirous that every one should have their full share of the favours of God, they would be glad to see one another happy in the little enjoyments of this life.

5. *Ouranius is a holy priest, full of the spirit of the gospel, watching, labouring, and praying for a poor country village. Every soul in it is as dear to him as himself; and he loves them all, as he loves himself, because he prays for them all, as often as he prays for himself.

If his whole life is one continual exercise of great zeal and labour, hardly ever satisfied with any degrees of care and watchfulness, ’tis because he has learned the great value of souls, by so often appearing before God as an intercessor for them.

He never thinks he can love, or do enough for his flock; because he never considers them in any other view, than as so many persons, that, by receiving the gifts and graces of God, are to become his hope, his joy, and his crown of rejoicing.

He goes about his parish, and visits every body in it; but visits in the same spirit of piety that he preaches to them: he visits them to encourage their virtues, to assist them with his advice, to discover their manner of life, and to know the state of their souls, that he may interceed with God for them, according to their particular necessities.

6. When Ouranius first entered into holy orders, he had a haughtiness in his temper, a great contempt for all foolish and unreasonable people: but he has prayed away this spirit, and has now the greatest tenderness for the most obstinate sinners; because he is always hoping, that God will sooner or later hear those prayers that he makes for their repentance.

The rudeness, ill-nature, or perverse behaviour of any of his flock, used at first to betray him into impatience; but it now raises no other passion in him, than a desire of being upon his knees in prayer to God for them.

Thus have his prayers for others altered and amended the state of his own heart.

It would delight you to see with what spirit he converses, with what tenderness he reproves, with what affection he exhorts, and with what vigour he preaches; and ’tis all owing to this, because he reproves, exhorts, and preaches to those, for whom he first prays to God.

This devotion softens his heart, enlightens his mind, sweetens his temper, and makes every thing that comes from him, instructive, amiable and affecting.

7. At his first coming to this little village, it was as disagreeable to him as a prison, and every day seemed too tedious to be endured in so retired a place. He thought his parish was too full of poor and mean people, that were none of them fit for the conversation of a gentleman.

This put him upon a close application to his studies. He kept much at home, writ notes upon Homer and Plautus, and sometimes thought it hard to be called to pray by any poor body, when he was just in the midst of one of Homer’s battles.

This was his polite, or I may rather say, poor, ignorant turn of mind, before devotion had got the government of his heart.

But now his days are so far from being tedious, or his parish too great a retirement, that he only wants more time to do that variety of good which his soul thirsts after. The solitude of his little parish is become matter of great comfort to him, because he hopes that God has placed him and his flock there, to make it their way to heaven.

He can now not only converse with, but gladly wait upon the poorest kind of people. He is now daily watching over the weak, humbling himself to perverse, rude, ignorant people, wherever he can find them; and is so far from desiring to be considered as a gentleman, that he desires to be used as the servant of all; and in the Spirit of his Lord and Master girds himself, and is glad to kneel down and wash any of their feet.

He now thinks the poorest creature in his parish good enough, and great enough, to deserve the humblest attendances, the kindest friendships, the tenderest offices, he can possibly shew them.

He is so far now from wanting agreeable company, that he thinks there is no better conversation in the world, than to be talking with poor and mean people about the kingdom of heaven.

All these noble thoughts and divine sentiments are the effects of his great devotion; he presents every one so often before God in his prayers, that he never thinks he can esteem, or serve those enough, for whom he implores so many mercies from God.

8. Ouranius is mightily affected with this passage of holy scripture, The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much, James v. 16.

This makes him practise all the arts of holy living, and aspire after every instance of piety, that his prayers for his flock may have their full force, and avail much with God.

For this reason he has sold a small estate that he had, and has erected a charitable retirement for ancient, poor people, to live in prayer and piety; that his prayers, being assisted by such good works, may pierce the clouds, and bring down blessings upon those souls committed to his care.

9. Ouranius reads how God himself said unto Abimelech concerning Abraham: He is a prophet; he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live, Gen. xx. 7.

And again, how he said of Job: And my servant Job shall pray for you; for him will I accept, Job xlii. 8.

From these passages Ouranius justly concludes, that the prayers of men eminent for holiness, have an extraordinary power with God; that he grants to other people such blessings, through their prayers, as would not be granted to men of less piety. This makes Ouranius exceeding studious of Christian perfection, searching after every grace and holy temper, fearful of every error and defect in his life, lest his prayers for his flock should be less availing with God.

This makes him careful of every temper of his heart, give alms of all that he hath, watch, and fast, and mortify, and live according to the strictest rules of temperance, meekness and humility, that he may be in some degree like an Abraham, or a Job, in his parish, and make such prayers for them as God will hear and accept.

These are the happy effects which a devout intercession hath produced in the life of Ouranius.

And if other people in their several stations, were to imitate his example, in such a manner as suited their particular state of life, they would certainly find the same happy effects from it.

10. *If masters, for instance, were to remember their servants in their prayers, beseeching God to bless them, and suiting their petitions to the particular wants of their servants; letting no day pass, without a full performance of this part of devotion; the benefit would be as great to themselves as to their servants.

No way so likely as this, to inspire them with a true sense of that power which they have in their hands, to make them delight in doing good, and become exemplary in all the parts of a wise and good master.

*The presenting their servants so often before God, as equally related to God, and intitled to the same heaven as themselves, would incline them to treat them not only with such humanity as became fellow-creatures, but with such tenderness, care, and generosity, as became fellow-heirs of the same glory. This devotion would make masters inclined to every thing that was good towards their servants; be watchful of their behaviour, and as ready to require of them an exact observance of the duties of Christianity as of the duties of their service.

*This would teach them to consider their servants as God’s servants, to desire their perfection, to do nothing before them that might corrupt their minds, to impose no business upon them that should lessen their sense of religion, or hinder them from their full share of devotion, both public and private. This praying for them, would make them as glad to see their servants eminent in piety as themselves, and contrive that they should have all opportunities and encouragements, both to know and perform all the duties of the Christian life.

11. How natural would it be for such a master, to perform every part of family devotion; to have constant prayers; to excuse no one’s absence from them; to have the scriptures, and books of piety, often read among his servants; take all opportunities of instructing them, of raising their minds to God, and teaching them to do all their business, as a service to God, and upon the hopes and expectations of another life?

*How natural would it be for such a one to pity their weakness and ignorance, to bear with the dulness of their understandings, or the perverseness of their tempers; to reprove them with tenderness, exhort them with affection, as hoping that God would hear his prayers for them?

How impossible would it be for a master, that thus interceeded with God for his servants, to use any unkind threatenings towards them, to damn and curse them as dogs and scoundrels, and treat them only as dregs of the creation?

This devotion would give them another spirit, and make them consider how to make proper returns of care, kindness, and protection to those, who had spent their strength and time in service and attendance upon them.

12. Now if gentlemen think it too low an employment to exercise such a devotion as this for their servants, let them consider how far they are from the spirit of Christ, who made himself not only an intercessor, but a sacrifice for the whole race of sinful mankind?

Let them consider how miserable their greatness would be, if the Son of God should think it as much below him to pray for them, as they do to pray for their fellow-creatures?

Let them consider how far they are from that spirit, which prays for its most unjust enemies, if they have not kindness enough to pray for those, by whose labours and service they live in ease themselves.

13. Again: If parents should thus make themselves advocates and intercessors with God for their children, constantly applying to heaven in behalf of them, nothing would be more likely, not only to bless their children, but also to dispose their own minds to the performance of every thing that was excellent and praise-worthy.

I don’t suppose, but that the generality of parents remember their children in their prayers. *But the thing here intended is not a general remembrance of them, but a regular method of recommending all their particular needs unto God; and of praying for every such particular grace and virtue for them as their state and condition of life shall seem to require.

The state of parents is a holy state, in some degree like that of the priesthood, and calls upon them to bless their children with their prayers and sacrifices to God. Thus it was that holy Job watched over, and blessed his children, he sanctified them, he rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt-offerings, according to the number of them all, Job i. 5.

If parents therefore, considering themselves in this light, should be daily calling upon God in a solemn, deliberate manner, altering and extending their intercessions, as the state and growth of their children required, such devotion would have a mighty influence upon the rest of their lives; it would make them very circumspect in the government of themselves; prudent and careful of every thing they said or did, lest their example should hinder that which they so constantly desired in their prayers.

14. If a father was daily making particular prayers to God, that he would please to inspire his children with true piety, great humility, and strict temperance, what could be more likely to make the father himself become exemplary in these virtues? How naturally would he grow ashamed of wanting such virtues as he thought necessary for his children? So that his prayers for their piety, would be a certain means of exalting his own.

If a father thus considered himself as an intercessor with God for his children, to bless them with his prayers, how would such thoughts make him avoid every thing that was displeasing to God, lest when he prayed for his children, God should reject his prayers?

*How tenderly, how religiously would such a father converse with his children, whom he considered as his little spiritual flock, whose virtues he was to form by his example, encourage by his authority, nourish by his counsel, and prosper by his prayers to God for them?

*How fearful would he be of all unjust ways of raising their fortune, of bringing them up in pride and indulgence, or of making them too fond of the world, lest he should thereby render them incapable of those graces which he was so often beseeching God to grant them?

15. Lastly, If all people, when they feel the first approaches of resentment, envy, or contempt, towards others; or if in all little disagreements and misunderstandings whatever, they should, instead of indulging their minds with little, low reflections, have recourse to a more particular intercession with God, for such persons as had raised their envy, resentment, or discontent; this would be a certain way to prevent the growth of all uncharitable tempers.

If you was always to form your prayer at that time to the greatest degree of contrariety to that temper which you was then in, it would be an excellent means of mending your heart.

As for instance: when at any time you find in your heart motions of envy towards any person, whether on account of his riches, power, reputation, learning, or advancement, if you should immediately pray to God to bless and prosper him in that very thing which raised your envy; if you should repeat your petitions in the strongest terms, beseeching God to grant him all the happiness from the enjoyment of it that can possibly be received, you would soon find it to be the best antidote in the world, to expel the venom of that passion.

*Again: If in any little difference or misunderstandings that you happened to have at any time with a relation, a neighbour, or any one else, you should then pray for them in a more extraordinary manner than you ever did before, beseeching God to give them every grace and blessing you can think of, you would take the speediest method of reconciling all differences, and clearing up all misunderstandings. You would then think nothing too great to be forgiven, stay for no condescensions, need no mediation of a third person, but be glad to testify your love and good-will to him, who had so high a place in your secret prayers.

This would remove all peevish passions, soften your heart into the most tender condescensions, and be the best arbitrator of all differences that happened betwixt you and any of your acquaintance.

16. Hence we may also learn the odious nature of all spite, hatred, contempt, and angry passions. They are not to be considered as defects in good-nature, not as failings in civility or good breeding, but as such base tempers as are entirely inconsistent with the charity of intercession.

You think it a small matter to be peevish or ill-natured to such or such a man; but you should consider, whether it be a small matter to do that which you could not do, if you had but so much charity as to be able to recommend him to God in your prayers.

You think it a small matter to ridicule one man, and despise another; but you should consider, whether it be a small matter to want that charity towards these people which Christians are not allowed to want towards their most inveterate enemies.

For, be but as charitable to these men, do but bless and pray for them, as you are obliged to bless and pray for your enemies, and then you will find that you have charity enough, to make it impossible for you to treat them with any degree of scorn or contempt.

For you cannot possibly despise and ridicule that man, whom your private prayers recommend to the love and favour of God.

When you despise and ridicule a man, it is with no other end but to make him ridiculous and contemptible in the eyes of other men. How therefore can it be possible for you sincerely to beseech God to bless that man with the honour of his love and favour, whom you desire men to treat as worthy of their contempt.

Could you, out of love to a neighbour, desire your prince to honour him with his esteem and favour, and yet at the same time expose him to the scorn and derision of your own servants.

Yet this is as possible, as to expose that man to the scorn and contempt of your fellow-creatures, whom you recommend to the favour of God in your secret prayers.

17. You cannot despise a brother, without despising him that stands in a high relation to God, to his Son Jesus Christ, and to the Holy Trinity.

You would certainly think it a mighty impiety to treat a writing with contempt, that had been written by the finger of God; and can you think it a less impiety to contemn a brother, who is not only the workmanship, but the image of God?

You would justly think it great prophaneness to condemn and trample upon an altar, because it was appropriated to holy uses, and had had the body of Christ so often placed upon it; and can you suppose it to be less prophaneness to scorn and trample upon a brother, who so belongs to God, that his very body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, 1 Cor. vi. 15.

18. *But to return: Intercession is not only the best arbitrator of all differences, the best promoter of true friendship, the best cure and preservative against all unkind tempers, all angry and haughty passions, but is also of great use to discover to us the true state of our own hearts.

There are many tempers which we think lawful and innocent, which we never suspect of any harm; which, if they were to be tried by this devotion, would soon shew us how we have deceived ourselves.

*Susurrus is a pious, temperate man, remarkable for abundance of excellent qualities. No one more constant at the service of the church. His charity is so great, that he almost starves himself, to be able to give greater alms to the poor.

19. Yet Susurrus had a prodigious failing along with these great virtues.

He had a mighty inclination to hear and discover all the defects and infirmities of all about him. You was welcome to tell him any thing of any body, provided that you did not do it in the stile of an enemy. He never disliked an evil-speaker, but when his language was rough and passionate. If you would but whisper any thing gently, tho’ it was ever so bad, Susurrus was ready to receive it.

When he visits, you generally hear him relating, how sorry he is for the failings of such a neighbour. He is always letting you know how tender he is of the reputation of his neighbour; how loth to say that which he is forced to say; and how gladly he would conceal it, if it could be concealed.

Susurrus had such a tender, compassionate manner of relating things the most prejudicial to his neighbour, that he even seemed, both to himself and others, to be exercising a Christian charity, at the same time that he was indulging a whispering, evil-speaking temper.

Susurrus once whispered to a particular friend in great secrecy, something too bad to be spoke of publickly. He ended with saying, how glad he was, that he had some hopes it might not be true, tho’ the suspicions were very strong. His friend made him this reply:

You say, Susurrus, that you are glad it has not yet taken wind; and that you have some hopes it may not prove true. Go home therefore to your closet, and pray to God for this man, in such a manner, and with such earnestness as you would pray for yourself on the like occasion.

Beseech God to interpose in his favour, to save him from false accusers, and bring all those to shame, who, by uncharitable whispers, and secret stories, wound him, like those that stab in the dark. And when you have made this prayer, then you may, if you please, go tell the same secret to some other friend, that you have told to me.

20. Susurrus was exceedingly affected with this rebuke, and felt the force of it upon his conscience in as lively a manner, as if he had seen the books opened at the day of judgment.

All other arguments might have been resisted; but it was impossible for Susurrus either to reject, or follow this advice, without being equally self-condemned in the highest degree.

From that time to this, he has constantly used himself to this method of intercession; and his heart is so ♦entirely changed by it, that he can now no more privately whisper any thing to the prejudice of another, than he can openly pray to God to do people hurt.

♦ ‘intirely’ replaced with ‘entirely’

Whisperings and evil-speakings now hurt his ears, like oaths and curses; and he has appointed one day in the week, to be a day of penance as long as he lives, to humble himself before God, in the sorrowful confession of his former guilt.

It may be well wondered, how a man of so much piety as Susurrus, could be so deceived in himself, as to live in such a state of scandal and evil-speaking, without suspecting himself to be guilty of it. But it was the tenderness and seeming compassion with which he heard and related every thing, that deceived both himself and others.

This was a falseness of heart, which was fully discovered, by the true charity of intercession.

And if people of virtue, who think as little harm of themselves, as Susurrus did, were often to try their spirit by such an intercession, they would often find themselves to be such, as they least of all suspected.

The End of the Fifth Volume.