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 Gordon, Robert, 1786-1853, 
 The mourner's companion 
 
SELECT 
 CHRISTIAN AUTHORS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS. 
 
 N^ 12. 
 
W£W'i> JJOMff IflLiW^gl 
 
 ^VIMJ.AM i-.iU.IlIS. 'il.A:; i' 
 
THE 
 
 MOURNER'S COMPANION 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT GORDON, D. D. 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 
 PRINTED FOR WILLIAM COLLINS; 
 
 OLIVEi; & BOYD, WM. WHYTE & CO. AND \VM. OLIPHANT, EDINBriiGH j 
 
 \V. F. WAKEMAK, AND WM. CURRY, JUN. & CO. DUBLIN ; 
 
 WHrrTAKER, TREACHER, & ARNOT ; HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. 
 
 AND SIMPKIN & MARSHALL, LONDON. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXXIIL 
 
Primed by W.collim* Co. 
 
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' 0;- 
 
 \THEOLOGl02i.L 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 It is the express declaration of Scripture, that " God 
 doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of 
 men ;" and if the declaration be understood as mean- 
 ing, that he cannot take pleasure in their suflPering, 
 and cannot therefore inflict it merely for the purpose 
 of making them unhappy, it is one in which no pro- 
 fessing Christian can hesitate to acquiesce. The 
 truth of the proposition, indeed, is necessarily im- 
 plied in the first and simplest idea that we are taught 
 to entertain of the divine nature ; for, if we have 
 conceived of the character of God at all, as we have 
 been accustomed to hear that character spoken of in 
 a professedly Christian community, we must have 
 conceived of him as a being of infinite beneficence, 
 wisdom, and power; and infinitely removed, there- 
 fore, beyond the influence of those motives by which 
 one human being is tempted to make encroachments 
 on the comfort and happiness of another. As om- 
 nipotent, he has nothing to fear from the efforts of 
 his creatures, be they ever so daring or malignant ; 
 because no efforts of theirs can, in the sUghtest de- 
 gree, affect his blessedness, or detract from the es- 
 
VI 
 
 scntial glory of his nature. As possessed of know- 
 ledge, wliich embraces every possible event, and every 
 conceivable combination of circumstances; and of wis- 
 dom, that can never be for one instant perplexed in 
 the choice of means whereby to accomplish its ob- 
 ject, he can in no case be surprised by an occurrence 
 wliich he did not foresee, or an emergency against 
 which he had not provided ; and the combination, 
 therefore, of these attributes, necessarily excludes 
 from his moral administration any thing like those 
 sudden acts of revenge, or blind impulses of passion, 
 which characterize human nature, and bear witness 
 at once to its depravity and its weakness. And if 
 his knowledge and his omnipotence do thus furnish 
 the most unequivocal assurance, that there cannot be 
 any thing like a hasty or precipitate exercise of his 
 supremacy, in the way of inflicting suffering, and se- 
 cure the undisturbed accomplishment of all his coun- 
 sels — his beneficence is a pledge that these counsels 
 must be designed and calculated to promote the well- 
 being of his intelligent creation ; and that the com- 
 munication of happiness, and not the infliction of 
 suffering, is tlie tendency of his righteous administra- 
 tion. The immediate result of his dispensations, it 
 is true, may, in certain circumstances, be evil, as all 
 suffering, considered in itself, unquestionably is ; but 
 it is because his purposes have been opposed, and 
 the gifts of his bounty perverted : for, if the attri- 
 butes of which we have been speaking do really be- 
 long to the divine nature, it is abhorrent to the very 
 idea of God, nay, it involves a palpable contradiction, 
 to suppose that he can ever inflict pain, merely for 
 the sake of doing so. The consciousness of guilt, 
 
Vll 
 
 indeed, may perhaps suggest hard thoughts of God ; 
 and, conceiving of his displeasure as if, on this point, 
 he were altogether such a one as ourselves, we may 
 he ready to suspect, that something Hke revenge 
 may enter into his treatment of those who have of- 
 fended him ; and that, notwithstanding the beneficent 
 tendency of his administration in general, he may be 
 disposed to act towards sinners as if he took pleasure 
 in the punishment with which he visits their trans- 
 gressions. The gospel, however, has furnished a 
 complete refutation of every such suggestion, inas- 
 much as we are there assured, that the present life 
 is to mankind, even till the last moment of it, a sea- 
 son of respite, and not a time of retribution ; that a 
 free forgiveness, through the blood of Christ, is ten- 
 dered to all, without exception ; and that God is 
 waiting to be gracious even to the chief of sinners ; — 
 and if we believe this, then we must also believe that 
 beneficence and mercy characterize all his procedure 
 towards them ; that if he has no pleasure in their 
 death, he can have none in their present sufferings ; 
 and that he cannot, therefore, afflict willingly, nor 
 grieve the children of men. 
 
 But, though the truth of these remarks will be 
 readily assented to by all who professedly believe the 
 gospel, yet there is reason to suspect that it is often 
 practically denied, and that even with many who do 
 most cordially acquiesce in the general proposition, 
 there is a tendency virtually to question it in particu- 
 lar cases, when they are themselves individually con- 
 cerned. We do not, indeed, suppose that Christians 
 can avowedly arraign the wisdom or the beneficence 
 of God, on the ground of any affliction which they 
 
Vlll 
 
 may witness in others, or experience in themselves ; 
 or that they can ever ask why lie has permitted his 
 creatures to he suhjcct to suffering at all, as if by 
 that suffering injustice had been done them. Such 
 a question is just a particular form of the idle and 
 ])resumptuous inquiry, why sin has been permitted ; 
 it indicates, on the part of those who urge it, a 
 lamentable blindness to all that is most affecting in 
 the character of God — even those attributes of his 
 nature, which the existence of moral evil has been 
 the means of unfolding to the view of his intelligent 
 creatures, and which, as far as we can conceive of 
 them, never could have been exhibited in any other 
 way; and it cannot, therefore, be deliberately pro- 
 posed by any man who professedly believes the gos- 
 pel. But there is reason to fear, that, even with 
 many such, the subject of affliction is frequently a 
 perplexing one; that, in seasons of suffering, thoughts 
 do sometimes arise that are nearly allied to the ques- 
 tion of which we have been speakhig ; and that, if 
 they do not complain that they are afflicted at all, 
 they are ready to ask why their afflictions are so com- 
 pHcatcd, or so severe ; and it is in opposition to these 
 unworthy thoughts of the divhie government, that 
 we would suggest some considerations, calculated to 
 show the beneficent design, and the salutary tendency, 
 of such afflictions. 
 
 In reply then to the question, why suffering should 
 enter so largely into God's dealings with the children 
 of men, we may observe, generally, that it is a me- 
 thod of procedure necessarily required by their con- 
 dition and circumstances, inasmuch as in no other 
 way could their, affections be so effectually weaned 
 
IX 
 
 from those objects which tend to estrange the heart 
 from God, and to disquahfy them for the enjoyment 
 of spiritual and divine things. That it is perfectly 
 competent, indeed, for the Almighty to effect the 
 deliverance of his people from the power and influ- 
 ence of sin, without the instrumentahty of any pain- 
 ful disciphne whatever, cannot admit of a moment's 
 doubt, considered simply as a question of mere power ; 
 for nothing is more obvious, than that he might, by 
 a single act of omnipotence, annihilate every evil pro- 
 pensity in human nature, and implant in their room 
 every holy affection and heavenly desire. But it is 
 also very obvious, that such a method of procedure 
 would not be dealing with mankind agreeably to the 
 constitution of their nature — that it would be nothing 
 less than a change of that nature into another of an 
 entirely different order, — and that having, therefore, 
 undergone such a change, they would, in reality, 
 cease to be human beings. Such an exercise of 
 power might, no doubt, put an end to the disorders 
 which sin has introduced into God's moral adminis- 
 tration; but there would be no room, in such a case, 
 for the display of divine wisdom, in rectifying these 
 disorders — and it would amount, in fact, to a declara- 
 tion that an evil had occurred, to which no other re- 
 medy could be applied than that of putting an end 
 to the existing state of things, and commencing a 
 new system of an entirely different kind. The 
 question, therefore, is not what it is competent for 
 the power of God to effect, but what is befitting his 
 wisdom and rectitude to choose — not whether he 
 could have substituted a different order of beings in 
 the room of his apostate creatures, but whether his 
 a3 
 
perfections would not be more gloriously magnified 
 by tlie recovery of the same beings from a state of 
 moral debasement, — and nothing, we apprehend, can 
 be more obvious, than that both in the method of 
 their justification, and in the way by which they arc 
 })rogressively sanctified, there is a manifestation of 
 the divine attributes, of which we could never other- 
 wise have conceived. It is with the last of these, 
 we mean the sanctification of sinners, that aflfliction 
 is more immediately connected ; and it is in the ap- 
 plication of affliction, as one of the means whereby 
 this moral transformation is effected, that the wisdom 
 and power of God are more strikingly exhibited, than 
 they could have been, merely by putting forth upon 
 tlicm an act of creating energy, whereby they might, 
 at once, have been raised from a state of moral de- 
 gradation, to a state of entire conformity to the divine 
 image. In effecting this transformation, he not only 
 deals with them in a manner suited to the constitu- 
 tion of their nature, but by employing the salutary 
 discipline of affliction and disappointment, themselves 
 the natural fruits of sin, he renders moral evil the 
 instrument of its own destruction, the means of work- 
 ing its own overthrow ; and when, in this way, be- 
 lievers are ultimately brought into a state of meetness 
 for the inlieritance of the saints in light, it is obvious 
 that they must have, in their own experience, and 
 the recollection of the process through which they 
 passed, in arriving at that state, sources of enjoyment 
 which we cannot conceive them to have had if the 
 change had been effected in any other way. There 
 is, therefore, in the very nature of things, a moral 
 necessity for the employment of suffering in the spi- 
 
XI 
 
 ritual regeneration of sinners — a necessity arising 
 out of the very perfections of the divine nature, as 
 well as the moral constitution of man ; and whether 
 we consider the subject with a reference to God, or 
 whether we regard it as it relates to human nature, 
 we are constrained to admit, that the Almighty can- 
 not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men. 
 It appears, then, that if mankind are to be dealt 
 with as rational and accountable creatures, the me- 
 thod by which they are to be conformed to the divine 
 image, is not to be a mere act of power, effecting a 
 change upon them which is neither resisted nor ac- 
 quiesced in on their part ; but one which addresses 
 itself to the moral principles of their nature, com- 
 manding the approbation of their understanding, and 
 carrying with it the heart and affections. We find 
 accordingly, that it is on their belief of the divine 
 testimony concerning Christ, that their acceptance 
 with God is made to turn ; while it is by the belief 
 of the same testimony, and the view of the divine 
 character there unfolded to them, that the Holy 
 Spirit subdues the enmity of their carnal minds; 
 and it requires very little knowledge of human na- 
 ture to perceive, that affliction is one of the most 
 powerful means of disposing the mind to receive sa- 
 lutary impressions of the truth. Nor can we doubt 
 that affliction is designed as well as calculated to pro- 
 duce this effect — that all the disappointments to 
 which mankind are exposed, are so many intima- 
 tions, that vanity and vexation of spirit must be the 
 end of every worldly pursuit, when the object of that 
 pursuit is put in the place of God — and that every 
 such disappointment, therefore, is intended to draw 
 
Xll 
 
 til em away from those pursuits, and persuade them 
 to set out ill quest of another and a more permanent 
 inheritance. Mercy, therefore, is the essential char- 
 acter of every such dispensation, on the part of God; 
 and instead of findiuir any difficulty or perplexing 
 douht rc<rarding them, as if they were irreconcilable 
 with the divine beneficence — a careful inquirer could 
 hardly fail to discover that they are themselves the 
 most unequivocal expressions of that beneficence ; 
 and that, if God has so determined the constitution 
 of things, that suffering is inseparably connected 
 with sin, it is in great compassion that he has done 
 so. The mercy and the wisdom of this ordination, 
 are every day visible in the restraints which are 
 thereby laid on the depravity of human nature ; and 
 its happy fruits are reaped by multitudes, who have 
 never, perhaps, had the gratitude to acknowledge it, 
 though they have thereby been prevented from run- 
 ning into many excesses, by which they would other- 
 wise have been polluted and debased. Nor do these 
 observations hold in the case of those sufferings only, 
 that arise immediately out of the commission of sin, 
 and by which the sinner is, at the instant, reminded 
 that he is travelling into forbidden ground. The 
 declaration that God afflicteth not willingly, is an 
 unequivocal assurance, that though, to our limited 
 apprehension of things, there may be many afflictions 
 which do not appear to be the immediate result of 
 any particular delinquency, yet, in the sight of Him 
 whose all-seeing eye comprehends every circumstance 
 in the condition of his creatures, there is an infinitely 
 wise reason, not only why each individual should 
 suffer, but why his suffering should be of a particu- 
 
xiii 
 
 lar kind, rather than any otlier ; and though, from 
 the obtuseness of mankind to understand, and their 
 unwillingness to acquiesce in the dispensations of 
 Providence, the beneficent tendency of the divine 
 administration may be frequently overlooked, when 
 it might be perceived, yet we shall find that there 
 are not wanting, in the experience of Christians, 
 facts in abundance, to demonstrate the truth of these 
 remarks. 
 
 In illustration, then, of the wisdom and mercy of 
 God, as manifested in the employment of affliction, 
 we may refer, in the first instance, to the circum- 
 stances in which the conversion of sinners is fre- 
 quently found to take place. In taking a survey of 
 tlieir past lives, and of the means Avhereby they were 
 awakened to anxiety about their spiritual interests, 
 there are many who can trace their saving acquain- 
 tance with the truth to a season of personal or family 
 affliction, as the period at which that acquaintance 
 commenced, and as constituting an era in their his- 
 tory, from which they date the operation of that 
 mighty power, whereby they have been quickened 
 and raised to newness of life. They will not, in- 
 deed, allege, that the mere pressure of affliction, 
 however accumulated and heavy, could ever have 
 wrought in them a moral transformation of nature ; 
 or that the mere depression of spirits, and loss of 
 relish for worldly enjoyments, which suffering seldom 
 fails to bring along with it, could ever have gene- 
 rated in their hearts one longing desire after spiri- 
 tual things : fur it is a melancholy fact, that multi- 
 tudes have felt that pressure in all its bitterness, and 
 have, for a time, been weary of the world, even to 
 
XIV 
 
 loatliiii^, wlio liave never thereby advanced a single 
 step towards the choice of a better portion. It is 
 iin})ossiblc, indeed, in the nature of things, that mere 
 suffering can, of itself, effect any spiritual renovation 
 of the soul ; and it will be found, accordingly, that 
 the very seriousness and attention to religious duties, 
 which, at such seasons, are manifested even by those 
 who are still ignorant of the truth, are, in reality, 
 little else than expressions of dissatisfaction with the 
 divine appointments — a sort of constrained act of 
 homage, extorted by some indistinct hope that God 
 may thereby be prevailed upon to withdraw the hand 
 that lies heavy upon them. But, though the salu- 
 tary tendency of affliction may, in many cases, be 
 thus counteracted and resisted, by the obstinacy of 
 the sinner, and though believers must be pursuaded, 
 that in no case could that affliction, of itself, pro- 
 duce conversion from darkness to light, yet many of 
 them can bear witness, in their own experience, to 
 its fitness, as an instrument in the hand of the Spi- 
 rit, for effecting that conversion. They can recol- 
 lect with what eagerness they listened, in the time 
 of distress, to truths which they formerly heard with 
 listlessness and indifference — how the glad tidings 
 of the gospel came to them with a power which they 
 had never before experienced, and with all the fresh- 
 ness of something absolutely new — and though they 
 must be well aware that it was the truth, and not the 
 affliction, that wrought the change which they are 
 conscious of having undergone, yet, in as far as they 
 can conceive of the matter, they feel so close and 
 intimate a connection between the affliction and the 
 change wliich accompanied it, that without the one. 
 
XV 
 
 they do not perceive how the other would have taken 
 place. And what reply would such persons make, 
 were they asked, whether they see any thing dark 
 or perplexing in the afflictive dispensations of God's 
 providence ? Would they hesitate to acknowledge, 
 that he afflicts in mercy, or would they be satisfied 
 v\ith a cold assent to the general proposition, that 
 disappointment and sorrow are, in his hand, a salu- 
 tary discipline ? No, assuredly — it would be a feeble 
 expression of what they feel, to say, that they were 
 resigned to these dispensations, as if it were still a 
 doubtful point, whether severity or kindness consti- 
 tuted their essential character. The affliction that 
 has been the means of bringing them to Christ will 
 be a subject of eternal gratitude, and growing admi- 
 ration — it will continue to unfold to them new proofs 
 of the wisdom and the mercy of God, with every 
 new enlargement of their capacity for spiritual en- 
 joyment — it will throw light on much that mio-ht 
 otherwise have perplexed or distressed them in the 
 subsequent dispensations of God's providence ; and 
 however mysterious these dispensations may at times 
 appear, they will still have, in their own experience, 
 a proof which they can neither question nor forget, 
 that " God afflicteth not willingly, nor grieveth the 
 children of men." 
 
 It is not necessary, we conceive, to pursue these 
 remarks to a greater length, in the way either of 
 proof or of illustration ; inasmuch as they will be 
 readily assented to by all who can trace their first 
 serious impressions of divine truth to a season of 
 personal or family affliction. It is not, however, to 
 such persons alone, that the wisdom of God is mani- 
 
XVI 
 
 festcd, in employing afflictive dispensations as the 
 means of promoting the spiritual welfare of his peo- 
 ple ; for we need not hesitate to lay it down as a 
 proposition universally applicable to the case of be- 
 lievers, that by the sadness of the countenance the 
 heart is made better. The truth of this remark is 
 too obvious to require any proof, in those cases 
 where Christians have been in a state of backsliding 
 — where there has been a very palpable decline in 
 the divine life, or a very wide departure from the 
 path of Christian obedience — and where some worldly 
 object had long, and but too successfully, disputed 
 with God the sovereignty of their affections. Chas- 
 tisement at such times is not only seasonable, but 
 indispensably necessary, in the same sense as we 
 have already endeavoured to demonstrate the neces- 
 sity of affliction in general ; and when that chastise- 
 ment, however painful it may have been, is so blessed 
 as to awaken believers to a sense of their delin- 
 quency, and to bring them back to God, it cannot 
 fail, not only to command their resigned acquiescence, 
 but to leave on their minds a deeper impression, 
 than they ever before felt, of the care and unceasing 
 watchfulness of their heavenly Father. But even 
 in those cases where there has been no such visible 
 backsliding or decline, affliction may not be less sea- 
 sonable in itself, or less salutary in its consequences. 
 Such a decline is not always accompanied with very 
 obvious or palpable indications of a decay of Chris- 
 tian ])rinci})lc in the heart, or departure from Chris- 
 tian obedience in the life. Xo very powerful temp- 
 tation may have occurred to draw believers into any 
 flagrant act of inconsistency, or to interrupt, to any 
 
xvu 
 
 great degree, their observance of religious duties — 
 their seasons of spiritual exercises may be as regular, 
 and the outward tenor of their life as uniform, as 
 ever they were — in the eye of their fellow- Christians, 
 every thing may wear a promising aspect — and there 
 may be nothing to awaken in their own minds, any 
 suspicion or doubt as to their progressive advance- 
 ment in the Christian life. But the world, notwith- 
 standing, may have been silently, though not less 
 surely, making inroads on their spirituality of mind ; 
 a series of successful enterprises in the business of 
 life, and the undisturbed enjoyment of accumulating 
 comforts, may have imperceptibly stolen away their 
 hearts from God; their affections may have been so 
 entangled with sensible objects, as to have lost not 
 a little of their attachment "to spiritual things; and 
 though they might still continue to travel their for- 
 mer round of religious observances, their views of 
 divine truth might be all the while degenerating into 
 something like cold speculative opinions, and their 
 spiritual exercises partaking more of the show and 
 form, than of the power and practice, of vital godli- 
 ness. An approach, at least, to a state like this, 
 is, we fear, no uncommon thing, even among Chris- 
 tians; and how frequently does it happen that the 
 delusion is dissipated only by some disappointment 
 or affliction, in which they are experimentally taught 
 that they had again begun to spend their money for 
 that which is not bread, and their labour for that 
 which satisfieth not. And is it not obvious, from 
 the very constitution of our nature, that in no con- 
 ceivable way could this earthly tendency of the af- 
 fections be so effectually arrested and counteracted, 
 
XVlll 
 
 as by the salutary discipline of affliction ; removing 
 the object that had occupied the place which God 
 alone ought to have held ; entailing disappointment 
 on the pursuits and enjoyments by which the heart 
 was in the way of being brought into bondage ; 
 and giving us to feel, that vanity and vexation of 
 spirit are all that the world has, wherewith to repay 
 the toil and the labour of those who would make it 
 their portion ? It is possible, indeed, that tlie Chris- 
 tian, when overtaken by an unexpected calamity, 
 may, at the moment, give way to the rebellious sug- 
 gestion, that the chastisement is more severe than 
 can be accounted for on the ground of any peculiar 
 delinquency on his part, and that something less 
 painful might have been sufficient to correct the 
 worldly influence that had been gradually stealing 
 upon him. Were it competent for him, however, 
 to comprehend at one view all the circumstances of 
 his condition, as they appear to the eye of Infinite 
 Wisdom — could he estimate, as God does, the 
 strength of the unsanctified influence that required 
 to be subdued, the extent to which that influence 
 had already operated upon him, and the source from 
 which its chief strength was derived — and were he 
 able to appreciate the full amount of the salutary 
 effects by which his affliction is to be followed, — he 
 would find that this affliction was nothintr more than 
 what was indispensably necessary — that it had been 
 dealt out to him in just such a measure as his spiri- 
 tual welfare required — and that any other of a less 
 painful nature, would have fallen short of the object 
 which it was designed to effect. And, in point of 
 fact, the experience of Christians does frequently 
 
XIX 
 
 bear witness that it is so. The first practical effect 
 of affliction, and the first token of its being sanctified 
 to the believer, is, in many cases, a returning sensi- 
 bihty of conscience, whereby he is awakened, as if 
 from a dream, to a lively recollection of many things 
 which before cost him no uneashiess, but on a review 
 of which he now feels humbled and abased — and 
 when he thinks of the mercy which interposed so to 
 awaken him, and contemplates the danger from which 
 he has thus been rescued, he will be ready to say, 
 with all gratitude and sincerity, " I know, O Lord, 
 that thy judgments are riglit, and that thou in faith- 
 fuhiess hast afflicted me." 
 
 Such is the view that we are naturally led to take 
 of affliction, considered in the light of chastisement; 
 and every Christian must acknowledge, that " though 
 for the present it seemeth not to be joyous but griev- 
 ous, nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable 
 fruits of righteousness unto them which are exer- 
 cised thereby." There is, however, another view, 
 which we conceive the believer is warranted to take 
 of the subject, and from which he may derive abun- 
 dant consolation. Independently altogether of any 
 thing in the past or present condition of the Chris- 
 tian, on account of which he may stand in need of 
 chastening, there may be temptations awaiting him 
 which he is but ill prepared to encounter, and cir- 
 cumstances about to occur, which, with a previous 
 course of worldly prosperity and comfort, might prove 
 injurious to his Christian character, and bring his 
 spiritual interests into jeopardy. Affliction, there- 
 fore, may have a view to the future, as well as a re- 
 ference to the past ; it may be the preparation which 
 
XX 
 
 God in his infinite wisdom sees necessary, because 
 he sees it the best, for putting his people into a pos- 
 ture of defence ; it may be that which brings them 
 into such a state of mind as renders them less acces- 
 sible to the allurements by which their spiritual ad- 
 versary is preparing to entangle them ; and, as the 
 means of strengthening their attachment to the truth, 
 may prove to them the intimation of a coming dan- 
 ger, a signal for them, so to speak, to take to them- 
 selves the whole armour of God, that they may be 
 able to stand against the wiles of the devil. We 
 are persuaded that there are many who must have 
 had this view of the subject verified in their own ex- 
 perience ; — many who can connect spiritual deliver- 
 ances with former afflictions, and who have been 
 enabled to remember God, in circumstances where, 
 but for such previous discipline, they are conscious 
 that they would have been in danger of forgetting 
 him. And can such persons have any doubt or per- 
 plexity about the principle on which affliction is made 
 to enter so largely into God's dealings with his 
 people ; or fiiil to perceive that, independently alto- 
 gether of correction or chastisement, it is through 
 tribulation and trial, that the Christian character is 
 raised to an elevation which it could never otherwise 
 have reached ? Such tribulations are not only the 
 measures which Infinite Wisdom dictates, but they 
 become, to the eye of faith, the most unequivocal 
 expressions whereby infinite love manifests itself; 
 they are so many testimonies to the unceasing watch- 
 fulness of God over his children, and the provision 
 which he is making for their deliverance, ere the 
 hour of temptation arrives, and before they are ccn- 
 
XXI 
 
 scious of its approach : and the more they reflect on 
 the time, and the nature, and the extent of their 
 suffering, the more firmly persuaded must they be, 
 that " their hght affliction, which is but for a mo- 
 ment, worketh for them a far more exceeding, even 
 an eternal weight of glory." 
 
 In the view that we have now taken of the sub- 
 ject of affliction, and of the place which it occupies 
 in God's procedure towards his people, we have con- 
 sidered it merely with a reference to the individual 
 afflicted, as tending, under the sanctifying influence 
 of the Spirit of God, to promote the believer's growth 
 in the divine life. It may not, however, be unin- 
 teresting or uninstructive to the Christian, to be re- 
 minded, that it is not to the individuals alone who 
 are actually subjected to suffering, that the salutary 
 effects of affliction are confined. Such is the con- 
 stitution of our nature, and such the circumstances 
 in which we are placed, that we are mutually depen- 
 dent on one another for not a little of what is essen- 
 tial for our present comfort and well-being; nor 
 would it be easy to conceive a case in which an in- 
 dividual could be so entirely under the dominion of 
 a selfish spirit^ — where he could so contract the sphere 
 of his affections, and so concentrate his regards upon 
 himself, as that his comforts should be beyond the 
 reach of being affected by any change in the circum- 
 stances and condition of those around him : and if a 
 solitary instance of such an individual could be found, 
 there are few, we are persuaded, who would hesitate 
 to pronounce him the most desolate, and forlorn, and 
 pitiable, of human beings. With such sympathies 
 and feelings, then, as render it impossible for us to 
 
XX 11 
 
 remain insensible to the condition of one another, 
 provision is thus made, by the very constitution of 
 our nature, for giving to affliction a far more ex- 
 tended influence, than merely the efiPect which it 
 produces on the individuals actually afflicted. How- 
 ever limited may be the sphere of the sufferer's rela- 
 tionship or acquaintance, there must be some, at least, 
 to whom his condition cannot be a matter of indiffer- 
 ence ; and if his sufferings have been sanctified to 
 himself, there must be something in his character 
 and state, tliat has a tendency to convey salutary im- 
 pressions to all with whom he may have an oppor- 
 tunity of holding intercourse. The effects, indeed, 
 of sucli dispensations may extend far beyond what it 
 is possible for us to conceive. We are assured in 
 Scripture, that " there is joy in heaven over one 
 sinner that rcpenteth ;" and contemplating this truth, 
 ill connexion with what we are also told on the same 
 authority, that angels are " ministering spirits, sent 
 forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of sal- 
 vation," and that " unto the principalities and powers 
 in heavenly places is known, by the church, the mani- 
 fold wisdom of God," — we cannot doubt that every 
 step of the believer's progress towards a state of 
 meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light, is 
 a subject of interest to these holy and happy spirits. 
 And if so, then it is impossible to determine how far 
 the influence of the believer's holy resignation under 
 affliction may extend, or what enlargement it may 
 give, even to those higher intelligences who do not, 
 and cannot, require to be themselves subjected to 
 suffering, in their conceptions of the power of divine 
 grace, and the riches of divine wisdom ; and impo"*- 
 
XXIU 
 
 sible, therefore, to estimate the amount of that ac- 
 cession, which the humblest Christian may be the 
 means of making, to the blessedness that is diffused 
 through the subjects of God's holy adminstration. 
 But, independently of the testimony that is thus 
 borne to the faithfulness of the divine promises, and 
 the efficacy of divine consolations, it is evident that, in 
 every case of affliction, there must be feelings awak- 
 ened, and sympathies called forth, which have them- 
 selves a most salutary tendency; that the witnesses 
 of such afflictions are thereby reminded of death and 
 eternal things, in a way more solemn and impressive 
 than they could be by any other means, short of the 
 actual experience of similar afflictions in their own 
 person ; and that, in this way, the sufferings of an 
 individual may be made to exercise a most whole- 
 some influence, even upon multitudes who are them- 
 selves exempted from the severity of such discipline, 
 and who, amidst the uninterrupted enjoyment of 
 worldly prosperity, might be in danger of forgetting 
 their mortality and frailty. 
 
 We have thus endeavoured to suggest to the be- 
 liever some considerations calculated to illustrate the 
 Scripture declaration, that " God doth not afflict 
 willingly, nor grieve the children of men ;" and to 
 point out some of the happy effects of affliction, con- 
 sidered as a salutary discipline. In attempting, 
 however, to do so, we would not have the Christian 
 suppose, that our object has been to point out spe- 
 cial reasons for any particular case of tribulation, as 
 if the discovery of such reasons were necessary to 
 command his resigned acquiescence in the divine ap- 
 pointments. Whether such reasons can be assigned 
 
XXIV 
 
 or not, there is one truth from which the considera- 
 tions now stated derive all their force, and the bchef 
 of which can never fail to secure this resignation on 
 the part of the Christian. If he believes and recollects 
 that God so loved the world, guilty and apostate as 
 it was, that he spared not his own Son, but freely gave 
 him up to the death for us all, he can require no 
 other argument to convince him that there is mercy 
 in affliction, and no farther explanation of the divine 
 procedure to reconcile him to any of God's dispensa- 
 tions. It is this truth indeed, and this alone, that 
 can call forth unreserved submission to the divine 
 will; and it is to this, therefore, that the believer 
 betakes himself in every season of perplexity and 
 trouble. He sees in the death of Christ the surest, 
 because infinitely the most valuable pledge, that God 
 himself could give, that no affliction will be employed 
 but such as infinite love dictates, and infinite wisdom 
 approves; and persuaded as he is, that his salvation, 
 even the perfection and blessedness of his nature, is 
 the end of all God's dealings with him, and the ob- 
 ject on which God looks with complacency, he can- 
 not but be also persuaded that his happiness is the 
 ultimate design of every afflictive visitation. To the 
 worldly mind, it may appear a paradox, or absolute 
 contradiction, to say, that suffering is inflicted for the 
 purpose of securing the happiness and the well-being 
 of the sufferer; and the resignation, therefore, of such 
 a mind will never be any thing more than a sullen 
 and constrained submission to stern necessity. But 
 it is because that mind has never seen the glory of 
 that efTuljxcnce with which the death of Christ illumi- 
 nates the divin-c government, and the character of 
 
XXV 
 
 love aiid mercy which it impresses on every act of his 
 administration towards the children of men ; for the 
 man who has leariicd to contemplate the divine pro- 
 cedure by the aid of this light, will believe not only 
 that God afflicteth not willingly, but that he does so 
 with reluctance — reluctance in this sense, and to this 
 extent, that he pities while he afflicts, and looks upon 
 the sufferings of his people with an infinitely more 
 profound compassion, than ever affectionate father 
 did on the child whom he loves, and whom that very 
 love constrains him to chasten. It is the Christian's 
 consolation to believe that his once tempted, and 
 suffering, and crucified Redeemer, is now exalted to 
 the sovereignty of the world ; that to Him has been 
 committed the administration of all things that con- 
 cern the well-being of his followers ; that his supre- 
 macy is unceasingly exercised in providing for their 
 security and comfort ; and that no affliction can befall 
 them, but with his knowledge, and by his appoint- 
 ment. He is, moreover, assured, and he believes, 
 however difficult and hard the saying may appear to 
 others, that this compassionate Saviour sympathizes 
 in the very sufferings which he himself appoints ; for 
 it is expressly said, that " we have not an High Priest 
 which cannot be touched with the feeling of our in- 
 firmities ; but was in all points tempted like as we 
 are, yet without sin." And with this assurance, can 
 he doubt, that in such hands he is secure from every 
 affliction that is not essential to his well-being ? can 
 he desire any other pledge on this point, than that 
 it is the appointment of Him who loved his people 
 even unto the death ? or can he require any thing 
 more to sooth and to support him, than the reflection, 
 15 12 
 
XXVI 
 
 tliat he has the sympathy and affectionate commiser- 
 ation of the Lord of Hfe? Let the heUever seek 
 to reahze this truth, and it will give a meaning and 
 a force to the suhject of these remarks, which no il- 
 lustration can impart to it — let him labour habitually 
 to recollect it, and he will need no argument to con- 
 vince him, that " God afflicteth not willingly, nor 
 grieveth the children of men." 
 
 With these general remarks on the subject of af- 
 fliction, we would refer our readers to the following 
 Treatises, where they will find the considerations at 
 which we have but just hinted, fully illustrated, and 
 most powerfully enforced. We do not, indeed, know 
 any works better fitted to be a companion to the af- 
 flicted : nor can the Christian, we think, rise from 
 the perusal of them, without some salutary impres- 
 sions, calculated to sooth him under present suffering, 
 or fit him for meeting future trials with devout ac- 
 quiescence in the divine appointment. They are 
 the works of men who knew human nature well, be- 
 cause they were well acquainted with their own heart ; 
 and we cannot conceive any form which dissatisfaction 
 with the dispensations of God's providence can as- 
 sume, that they have not examined and exposed. 
 This observation is particularly applicable to the 
 treatise by Flavel, who, with great spiritual skill, 
 has laid open those secret feelings of discontentment 
 with the divine procedure, of which Christians are at 
 times hardly conscious perhaps, but which too fre- 
 quently lie at the foundation of immoderate and un- 
 liecoming sorrow in seasons of affliction. In Cecil's 
 " Visit to the House of Mourning," the Christian 
 will find set forth, in a very impressive light, ihe 
 
xxvu 
 
 abundant consolation which the Gospel provides for 
 him in the time of trouble, and such an exhibition of 
 the divine perfections, as is admirably fitted to streng- 
 then the conviction, that, even in the severest of his 
 chastisements, God is still faithful to his character as 
 a compassionate Father. But, if we might venture 
 to single out one, among works that are all so excel- 
 lent, we would especially recommend to the notice of 
 our readers, the first of the treatises by Shaw. In- 
 dependent of its general excellence, as containing a 
 large portion of truth, condensed into a small com- 
 pass, it derives a peculiar interest from the circum- 
 stances in which it was written, as embodying the 
 experience of a man of eminent piety and spirituality 
 of mind, while under the pressure of a very painful 
 and trying visitation of Providence. We know 
 scarcely any thing more impressive than his prefatory 
 address to the reader, when he " solemnly and sin- 
 cerely professes before God, and angels, and men, 
 that he was never so much as inclined to think hardly 
 of God, or his good and holy ways, because of his 
 afflictive dispensation :" and while this declaration, 
 we doubt not, will remind many of the hard thoughts, 
 and unworthy suspicions, to which they have some- 
 times given way in seasons of affliction, it furnishes 
 also an encouraging example of the maturity of 
 strength to which the believer's faith may be brought, 
 and after which it is alike the privilege and the duty 
 of every Christian to aspire. But whatever may be 
 our predilection for Shaw's work, we trust that our 
 readers will find the whole worthy of a repeated per- 
 usal; and we may venture to apply to each of them 
 the words of the excellent preface to this edition of 
 B 2 
 
XXVlll 
 
 Cecil : — "" The value of this work has been already 
 well tried by the test of extended experiment ; and 
 it has found a warm friend in many a distracted heart 
 which it has soothed, and in many an afflicted family 
 whom it has visited with the balm of heavenly conso- 
 lation. The blessing of the Great Comforter has 
 largely accompanied it ; and it has been stamped by 
 heaven as one of the most valuable treatises of Chris- 
 tian truth, and Christian consolation. The unction 
 of evangelical sentiment rests on it, and the spirit of 
 fjenuine Christian sympathy pervades its every page." 
 
 R. G. 
 
 Edinburgh, August, 1824. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 A TOKEN FOR MOURNERS, .... 31 
 
 A FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF 
 
 MOURNING, 145 
 
 A WELCOME TO THE PLAGUE, ... 199 
 
 A FAREWELL TO LIFE, 287 
 
 THE ANGELICAL LIFE, .... 330 
 
TOKEN FOR MOURNERS. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. JOHn'fLAVEL. 
 
THE 
 
 EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 To his dearly-beloved Brother and Sister^ Mr. J. C. 
 and Mrs. E. C. the Author wisheth Grace^ Mercy, 
 and Peace. 
 
 Dear Friends, 
 
 The double tie of nature and grace, besides the 
 many endearing passages, that for so many years 
 have linked and glued our affections so intimately, 
 cannot but beget a tender sympathy in me with you 
 under all your troubles, and make me say of every 
 affliction which befalls you. Half mine. I find it is 
 with our affections, as with the strings of musical 
 instruments, exactly set at the same height : if one 
 be touched, the other trembles, though it be at some 
 distance. 
 
 Our affections are one, and so in a great measure 
 have been our afflictions also. You cannot forget, 
 that in the year lately past, the Almighty visited my 
 tabernacle with the rod, and, in one year, cut off 
 from it the root and the branch, the tender moth«r 
 and the only son. What the effects of these strokes, 
 or rather of my own unmortified passions were, I 
 b3 
 
34 
 
 have felt, and you and others have heard. Surely 
 I was a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke ; yea, I 
 may say with them. Lam. iii. 19, 20. " Remember- 
 ing mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and 
 the gall: my soul hath them srtU in remembrance, and 
 is humbled in me." 
 
 I dare not say, that ever I felt my heart discon- 
 tentedly rising and swelling against God ; no, I could 
 still justify him, when I most sensibly smarted by 
 his hand : if he had plunged me into a sea of sorrow, 
 yet I could say, in all that sea of sorrow there is not 
 a drop of injustice. But it was the over-heating 
 and over-acting of my fond and unmortified affec- 
 tions and passions, that made so sad impressions 
 upon my body, and cast me under those distempers 
 which soon imbittered all my remaining comforts 
 to me. 
 
 It was my earnest desire, so soon as I had strength 
 and opportunity for so great a journey, to visit you ; 
 that so (if the Lord had pleased) I might both re- 
 fresh, and be refreshed by you, after all my sad and 
 disconsolate days ; and you cannot imagine what con- 
 tent and pleasure I projected in that visit. But it 
 proved to us (as all other comforts of the same kind 
 ordinarily do) more in expectation than fruition ; for 
 how soon after our joyful meeting and embraces did 
 the Lord overcast and darken our day, by sending 
 death into your tabernacle, to take away the desire 
 of your eyes with a stroke ! to crop off that sweet 
 and only bud, from which we promised ourselves so 
 much comfort : but no more of that, I fear I have 
 gone too far already. It is not my design to exas- 
 perate your troubles, but to heal them ; and for tliat 
 
35 
 
 purpose have I sent you these papers, which I hope 
 may be of use, both to you and many others in your 
 condition, since they are the after-fruits of my own 
 troubles; things that I commend not to you from 
 another hand, but which I have (in some measure) 
 proved and tasted in my own trials. 
 
 But I will not hold you longer here : I have only 
 a few things to desire for and from you, and I have 
 done. 
 
 The things I desire are. 
 
 First, That you will not be too hasty to get oft' 
 the yoke which God hath put upon your neck. Re- 
 member, when your child was in the womb, neither 
 of you desired it should be delivered thence, till 
 God's appointed time was fully come ; and now that 
 you travail again with sorrow for its death, O desire 
 not to be delivered from your sorrow one moment 
 before God's time for your deliverance be also fully 
 come ! Let patience have its perfect work ; that 
 comfort which comes in God's way and season will 
 remain by you, and do you good indeed. 
 
 Secondly, I desire, that though you and your 
 affliction had a sad meeting, yet you and they may 
 have a comfortable parting. If they effect that upon 
 your hearts for which God has sent them, I doubt 
 not but God will give them a fair testimony when 
 they go off! If they obtain God's blessing upon 
 th^m in their operation, surely they will have your 
 blessing too at their valediction. And what you 
 entertained with fear, you will dismiss with praise. 
 How sweet is it to hear the afflicted soul say, when 
 God is loosing his bands, " It is good for me that I 
 have been afflicted !" 
 
36 
 
 Thirdly, I heartily wish that these searching afflic- 
 tions may make the most satisfying discoveries, that 
 you may now see more of the evils of sin, the vanity 
 of the creature, and the fulness of Christ, than ever 
 you yet saw. Afflictions are searchers, and put the 
 youl upon searching and trying its way. When our 
 sins find us out hy affliction, happy are we, if by the 
 liirht of affliction we find out sin. Blessed is the 
 man whom God chasteneth, and teacheth out of his 
 law. There are unseen causes, many times, of our 
 troubles ; you have an advantage now to sift out the 
 seeds and principles from which they spring. 
 
 Fourthly, I wish that all the love and delight you 
 bestowed upon your little one, may now be placed 
 to your greater advantage upon Jesus Christ ; and 
 that the stream of your affection to him may be so 
 much the stronger, as there are now fewer channels 
 for it to be divided into. If God will not have any 
 part of your happiness to lie in children, then let it 
 wholly lie in himself. If the jealousy of the Lord 
 hath removed that which drew away too much of 
 heart from him, and hath spoken by his rod, saying, 
 " Stand aside child ; thou art in my way, and fillest 
 more room in thy parent's heart than belongs to 
 thee " — O then deliver up all to him, and say. Lord, 
 take the whole heart entirely and undividedly to thy- 
 self. Heneeforth, let there be no parting, sharing, 
 or dividing of the affections betwixt God and the 
 creature, let all the streams meet and centre in tliee 
 only. 
 
 Fifthly, That you may be strengthened with all 
 might in the inner man to all patience, that the 
 peace of God may keep your hetrts and minds, labour 
 
37 
 
 to bring your hearts to a meek submission to the 
 rod of your Father. " We hiid fathers of the flesh 
 who corrected us, and we gave them reverence ; shall 
 we not much more be in subjection to the Father of 
 spirits, and Hve ?" Is it comely for chikhen to con- 
 test and strive with their father ? or is it the way to 
 be freed from the yoke, by struggHng under it ? O 
 that your hearts may be in a Hke state with his who 
 said, " Lord, thou shalt beat, and I will bear !" It 
 was a good observation that one made — " The soul 
 grows wise by sitting still and quiet under the rod." 
 And the apostle calls those excellent fruits which tlie 
 saints gather from their sanctified afflictions, " The 
 peaceable fruits of righteousness." 
 
 Lastly^ My heart's desire and prayer to God for 
 you is, that you may die daily to all visible enjoy- 
 ments, and by these frequent converses with death 
 in your family, you may be prepared for your own 
 change and dissolution when it shall come. 
 
 O friends ! how many graves have you and I seen 
 opened for our dear relations ! How oft hath death 
 come up into your windows, and summoned the de- 
 light of your eyes ! It is but a little while and we 
 shall go to them ; we and they are distinguished but 
 by short intervals. 
 
 Our dear parents are gone ; our lovely and desir- 
 able children are gone; our bosom relations, who 
 were as our own souls, are gone ! And do not all 
 these warning-knocks at our doors acquaint us, that 
 we must prepare to follow shortly after them ? 
 
 O that by these things our own death might be 
 both more familiar and easy to us ! The oftener it 
 visits us, the better we should be acquainted with it; 
 
S8 
 
 and the more of" our beloved relations it removes be- 
 fore us, the less of either snares or entan<(lement 
 remains for us when our turn comes. 
 
 My dear friends, my flesh and my blood, I be- 
 seech you, for religion's sake, for your own sake, and 
 for my sake, whose comfort is in a great part bound 
 up in your prosperity and welfare, that you read 
 frequently, ponder seriously, and apply believingly? 
 these Scripture consolations and directions, which, in 
 some haste, I have gathered for your use ; and the 
 God of all consolation be with you. 
 
 I am, your most endeared Brother, 
 
 JOHN FLAVEL. 
 
^^. 
 
 TOKEN FOR MOURNERS. 
 
 Luke vii. 13. 
 
 Atid ivhen the Lord saiv her^ he had compassion on her, 
 and said unto her^ Weep not. 
 
 To be above the stroke of passions, is a condition 
 equal to angels ; to be in a state of sorrow, without 
 the sense of sorrow, is a disposition beneath beasts : 
 but duly to regulate our sorrows, and bound our pas- 
 sions under the rod, is the wisdom, duty, and excel- 
 lency of a Christian. He who is without natural 
 affections, is deservedly ranked among the worst of 
 heathens; and he who is able rightly to manage 
 them, deserves to be numbered with the best of 
 Christians. Though, when we are sanctified, we 
 put on the divine nature — yet, till we are glorified, 
 we put not off the infirmities of our human nature. 
 
 Whilst we are within the reach of troubles, we 
 cannot be without the danger, nor ought not to be 
 without the fear of sin ; and it is as hard for us to 
 escape sin being in adversity, as to be calm in pros- 
 perity. 
 
 How apt are we to transgress the bounds both of 
 reason and religion under a sharp affliction, appears 
 
40 
 
 in most men's experience, so in this woman's example, 
 to whose excessive sorrow Christ puts a stop in the 
 text : " He saw her, and had compassion on her, and 
 said to her, Weep not." 
 
 The lamentations and waiUng of this distressed 
 mother, moved the tender compassions of the Lord 
 in beholding them, and stirred up more pity in his 
 heart for her, than could be in her heart for her dear 
 and only son. 
 
 In the words, we are to consider both the condi- 
 tion of the woman, and the counsel of Christ with 
 respect to it. 
 
 I. The condition of this woman, which appears to 
 be very dolorous and distressed. Her groans and 
 tears moved and melted the very heart of Christ to 
 hear and behold them : " When he saw her, he had 
 compassion on her." 
 
 How sad an hour it was with her when Christ 
 met her, appears by what is so distinctly marked by 
 the Evangelist in verse 12. where it is said, " Now, 
 when they came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, 
 there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his 
 mother, and she was a widow : and much people of 
 the city were with her." 
 
 In this one verse, divers heart-piercing circum- 
 stances of this affliction are noted. 
 
 1. It was the death of a son. To bury a child, 
 any child, must needs rend the heart of a tender 
 parent ; for what are children but the parents multi- 
 plied? A child is part of the parent made up in 
 another skin. But to lay a son in the grave, a son 
 who continues the name, supports the family — this 
 was ever accounted a veiy great affliction. 
 
41 
 
 2. This son was not carried from the cradle to the 
 coffin, nor stripped out of its swathing to be wrapped 
 in his winding-clotli. Had he died in infancy, be- 
 fore he had engaged affection, or raised expectation, 
 the affliction had not been so pungent and cutting as 
 now it was : death smote this son in the flower and 
 prime of his life. He was " a man," saith the 
 Evangelist, verse 12. — " a young man," as Christ 
 calls hira, verse 14. — he was now arrived at that age 
 which made him capable of yielding his mother all 
 that comfort which had been the expectation and hope 
 of many years, and the reward and fruit of many 
 cares and labours : yet then, when the endearments 
 were greatest, and her hopes highest, even in the 
 flower of his age, he is cut off". 
 
 Thus Basil bewailed the death of his son : " I 
 once had a son, who was a young man, my only suc- 
 cessor, the solace of my age, the glory of his kind, 
 the prop of my family, arrived to the endearing age ; 
 then was he snatched from me by death, whose lovely 
 voice but a little before I heard, who lately was a 
 pleasant spectacle to his parent." 
 
 Reader, if this had been thine own condition, as 
 it hath been his who writes it, I need say no more 
 to convince thee, that it was a sorrowful state indeed 
 in which Christ met this tender mother. 
 
 3. And what is yet more, he was not only a son, 
 but an only son : so you find in verse 12. " He was 
 the only son of his mother." One in whom all her 
 hopes and comforts of that kind were bound up. For, 
 as in Virgil, Omnis in Ascanio, stat chari cura pa- 
 rentis. All her affections were contracted into this 
 one object. If we have ever so many children, we 
 
42 
 
 know not which of them to spare. If they stand 
 hke ohve plants about our table, it would grieve us 
 to see the least twig among them broken down. But 
 surely the death of one out of many, is much more 
 tolerable than of all in one. 
 
 Hence it is noted in Scripture as the greatest of 
 earthly sorrows — " O daughter of my people, gird 
 thee with sackcloth, and wallow thyself in ashes; 
 make thee mourning, as for an only son, most bitter 
 lamentation." Yea, so deep and penetrating is this 
 grief, that the Holy Ghost borrows it to express the 
 deepest spiritual troubles by it — " They shall mourn 
 for him, (namely, Christ whom they pierced,) as one 
 mourneth for an only son." 
 
 4. And yet to heighten the afflictions, it is super- 
 added, verse 12. " And she was a widow." So that 
 the staff of her age, on whom she leaned, was broken. 
 She had now none left to comfort or assist her in her 
 helpless, comfortless state of widowhood ; which is a 
 condition not only void of comfort, but exposed to 
 oppression and contempt. 
 
 Yea, and being a widow, the whole burden lay 
 upon her alone : she had not a husband to comfort 
 her, as Elkanah did Hannah — " Why weepest thou, 
 and why is thy heart grieved ? am not I more to thee 
 than ten sons ?" This would have been a great re- 
 lief, but her husband was dead as well as her son : 
 both gone, and she only surviving to lament* the loss 
 of those comforts that once she had. Her calamities 
 came not single, but one after another, and this re- 
 viving and aggravating the former. This was her 
 case and condition when the Lord met her. 
 
 II. Let us consider the counsel which Christ 
 
43 
 
 gives her, with respect to this her sad and sorrowful 
 case : " And when the Lord saw her, he had com- 
 passion on her, and said unto her, Weep not." 
 Relieving and supporting words ! wherein we shall 
 consider, 
 
 1. The occasion. 
 
 2. The motive. 
 
 3. The counsel itself. 
 
 1. The occasion of it; and that was his seeing of 
 her. This meeting at the gate of the city, how ac- 
 cidental and occasional soever it seems, yet, without 
 doubt, it was providentially suited to the work in- 
 tended to be wrought. The eye of his omniscience 
 foresaw her, and this meeting was by him designed as 
 an occasion of that famous miracle which he wrought 
 upon the young man. Christ hath a quick eye to 
 discern poor mourning and disconsolate creatures. 
 And though he be now in heaven, and stands out of 
 their sight, so that we see him not, yet he sees us ; 
 and his eye (which is upon all our troubles) still af- 
 fects his heart, and moves his bowels for us. 
 
 2. The motive stirring him up to give this reliev- 
 ing and comfortable counsel to her, was his own com- 
 passion. She neither expected nor desired it from 
 him ; but so full of tender pity was the Lord toward 
 her, that he prevents her with unexpected consola- 
 tion : her heart was nothing so full of compassion for 
 her son, as Christ was for her: he bore our infirmi- 
 ties, even natural as well as moral ones, in the days 
 of his flesh ; and though he be now exalted to the 
 highest glory, yet still he continues as merciful as 
 ever, and is apt to be touched with the sense of our 
 miseries. 
 
u 
 
 3. The counsel itself, " Weep not ;" herein ful- 
 filling the office of a comforter to them that mourn, 
 whereunto he was anointed. Yet the words are not 
 an absolute prohibition of tears and sorrow ; he doth 
 not condemn all mourning as sinful, or all expressions 
 of grief for dead relations as uncomely. No, Christ 
 would not have his people stupid and insensible ; he 
 only prohibits the excess and extravagancies of our 
 sorrow for the dead ; that it should not be such a 
 mourning for the dead as is found among the heathen, 
 who sorrow without measure, because without hope, 
 being ignorant of that grand relief, by the resurrec- 
 tion which the gospel reveals. 
 
 The resurrection of her son from the dead, is the 
 ground upon which Christ builds her consolation and 
 relief. Well might he say, " Weep not," when he 
 intended quickly to remove the cause of her tears by 
 restoring him again to life. 
 
 Now, though there be somewhat in this case ex- 
 traordinary and peculiar, — for few or none that carry 
 their dead children to the grave, may expect to re- 
 ceive them again from the dead immediately, by a 
 special resurrection, as she did : I say, this is not to 
 be expected by any that now lose their relations ; 
 the occasions and reasons of such miraculous special 
 resurrections being removed, by a sufficient and full 
 evidence and confirmation of Christ's divine power 
 and Godhead ; — yet those that now bury their rela- 
 tions, if they be such as die in Christ, have as good 
 and sufficient reason to moderate their passions as 
 this mourner had, and do as truly come within the 
 reach and compass of this, Christ's comfortable and 
 supporting counsel, " Weep not," as she did : for do 
 
45 
 
 but consider what of support or comfort can a parti- 
 cular and present resurrection from the dead give us, 
 more than that it is, and as it is, a specimen, a handsel, 
 or pledge of the general resurrection ? It is not the 
 returning of the soul to its body, to live an animal 
 life again in this world of sin and sorrow, and shortly 
 after to undergo the agonies and pains of death 
 again, that is in itself any such privilege as may aftbrd 
 much comfort to the person raised, or his relations. 
 It is no privilege to the person raised, for it returns 
 him from rest to trouble, from the harbour back 
 again into the ocean. It is matter of trouble to 
 many dying saints, to hear of the likelihood of their 
 returning again, when they are got so nigh to 
 heaven. 
 
 It was once the case of a godly minister of this 
 nation, who was much troubled at his return, and 
 said, *' I am like a sheep driven out of the storm al- 
 most to the fold, and then driven back into the storm 
 again : or a weary traveller that has come near his 
 home, and then must go back to fetch somewhat he 
 had forgotten ; or an apprentice, whose time is almost 
 expired, and then must begin a new term." 
 
 But to die, and then return again from the dead, 
 hath less of privilege, than to return only from the 
 brink of the grave : for the sick hath not yet felt the 
 agonies and last struggle or pangs of death, but such 
 have felt them once, and must feel them again ; they 
 must die twice, before they can be happy once : and 
 besides, during the little time they spend on earth, 
 betwixt the first and second dissolution, there is a 
 perfect forgetfulness and insensibleness of all that 
 which they saw or enjoyed in their state of separation : 
 
46 
 
 it being necessary both for them and others, that it 
 should be. For themselves it is necessary, that they 
 may be content to live and endure the time of se- 
 paration from that blessed and ineffable state, quietly 
 and patiently ; and for others, that they may live by 
 faith, and not by sense, and build upon divine, and 
 not human authority and report. 
 
 So that here, you see, their agonies and pangs are 
 doubled, and yet their life not sweetened by any 
 sense of their happiness, which returns and remains 
 with them ; and therefore it can be no such privilege 
 to them. 
 
 And for their relations, though it be some comfort 
 to receive them again from the dead, yet the consi- 
 deration, that they are returned to them in the stormy 
 sea, to partake of new sorrows and troubles, from 
 which they w^ere lately free ; and in a short time they 
 must part with them again, and feel the double sor- 
 rows of a parting pull, which others feel but once, 
 surely such a particular resurrection, considered in it- 
 self, is no such ground of comfort as at first we might 
 imagine it to be. 
 
 It remains, then, that the ground of all solid com- 
 fort and relief against the death of our relations, lies 
 in the general and last resurrection ; and what is in 
 a particular one, is but, as it were, a specimen and 
 evidence of the general : and there the apostle places 
 our relief: That we shall see and enjoy them again 
 at the Lord's coming, — and surely this is more than 
 if, with his motiicr, (in the text,) we should presently 
 receive them from the dead, as she did her son. And 
 if we judge not so, it is because our hearts are carnal, 
 and measure things rather by time and sense, than 
 by faith and eternity. 
 
47 
 
 Thus you see the counsel, with its ground, which 
 for the most part is common to other Christian 
 mourners with her ; the difference being but inconsi- 
 derable, and of little advantage. 
 
 Here, then, you find many aggravations of sorrow 
 meeting together : a son, an only son, is carrying to 
 the grave ; yet Christ commands the pensive mother 
 not to mourn. Hence we note, 
 
 DocT. That Christians ought to moderate their 
 sorrows for their dead relations^ how many afflicting 
 circumstances and aggravations soever do meet toge- 
 ther in their death. 
 
 It is as common with men, yea, with good men, 
 to exceed in their sorrows for dead relations ; and 
 both of the one and other, we may say as they say of 
 waters, it is hard to confine them within their bounds. 
 It is, therefore, a grave advice which the apostle de- 
 livers in this case — " But this I say, brethren, the 
 time is short; it remaineth, that both they that have 
 wives, be as though they had none ; and they that 
 weep, as though they wept not; and those that re- 
 joice, as though they rejoiced not." As if he had 
 said. The floating world is near its port, God hath 
 contracted the sails of man's life: it is but a point of 
 time we have to live, and shortly it will not be a 
 point to choose whether we had wives or not, children 
 or not. All these are time-eaten things, and before 
 the expected fruit of these comforts be ripe, we our- 
 selves may be rotten. It is therefore a high point 
 of wisdom to look upon things which shortly will not 
 be, as if already they were not, and to behave our- 
 selves in the loss of these carnal enjoyments, as the 
 natural man behaves himself in the use of spiritual 
 
48 
 
 ordinances: he hears, as it' he heard not; and wc 
 should weep, as if we wept not : their hearts are a 
 little moved sometimes by spiritual things, but they 
 never lay them so to heart, as to be broken-hearted 
 for the sin they hear of, or deeply affected with the 
 glory revealed; we also ought to be sensible of the 
 stroke of God upon our dear relations; but yet still 
 we must weep, as if we wept not ; that is, we must 
 keep due bounds and moderation in our sorrows, and 
 not be too deeply concerned for these dying short- 
 lived things. 
 
 To this purpose is the apostle's exhortation, " My 
 son, despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither 
 faint when thou art rebuked of him." These are 
 two extremes, despising and fainting : when God is 
 correcting, to say, I do not regard it, let God take 
 all, if he will : if my estate must go, let it go ; if my 
 childreii die, let them die : this is to despise the 
 Lord's chastening; and God cannot bear it, that we 
 should bear it thus lightly. 
 
 There is also another extreme, and that is faint- 
 ing : if when goods are taken away, the heart be 
 taken away ; and when children die, then the spirit 
 of the parent dies also : this is fainting under the 
 rod. Thou lamentest, saith Seneca, thy deceased 
 friend ; but I would not have thee grieve beyond what 
 is meet : that thou shouldst not grieve at all, I dare 
 not require thee; tears may be excused, if they do 
 not exceed : let thine eyes, therefore, he neither 
 wholly dry, nor yet let them overflow ; weep thou 
 may est, but wail thou must not. 
 
 Happy man, that still keeps the golden bridle of 
 moderation upon his passions and affections, and still 
 
49 
 
 keeps the possession of himself, whatsoever he lose 
 the possession of! 
 
 Now, the method in which I propose to proceetl, 
 shall be, 
 
 I. To discover the signs, 
 
 II. To dissuade from the sin, 
 
 III. To remove the pleas, and, 
 
 IV. To propose the cure, of immoderate sorrow. 
 
 I. (1.) I shall give you the signs of immoderate 
 sorrow, and show you when it exceeds its bounds, 
 and becomes sinful, even a sorrow to be sorrowed 
 for ; and, for clearness' sake, I will first allow what 
 may be allowed to the Christian mourner, and then 
 you will the better discern wherein the excess and 
 sinfulness of your sorrow lies. 
 
 1. How much soever we censure and condemn 
 immoderate sorrow, yet the afflicted must be allowed 
 and awakened under a tender sense of the Lord's 
 afflicting hand upon them. It is no virtue to bear 
 what we do not feel. Yea, it is a most unbecominir 
 temper not to tremble when God is smiting. 
 
 The Lord saith to Moses, in the case of Miriam, 
 " If her father had spit in her face, should she not 
 be ashamed seven days ?" The face is the table and 
 seat of beauty and honour; but when it is spit upon, 
 it is made the sink of shame. Had her own father 
 spit upon her face when she had displeased liim, 
 would she not have gone aside as one ashamed by 
 such a rebuke, and not have shown her face to him 
 again in seven days? How much more should she 
 take it to heart, and be sensible of this rebuke of 
 mine, who have filled her face with leprous spots, 
 C 12 
 
50 
 
 the signs of my displeasure against her? Surely 
 God will be ashamed of those that arc not ashamed 
 when he rebukes them. 
 
 It is not magnanimity, but stupidity, to make 
 light of God's correction ; and for this the afficted 
 are smartly taxed : " I have smitten them, but they 
 have not grieved." When God smote Job in his 
 person, children, and estate, he arose and rent his 
 mantle, and put dust upon his head, to show he was 
 not senseless and unaffected, and yet blessed the 
 afflicting God, which as plainly showed he was not 
 contumacious and unsubmissive. 
 
 2. We must allow the mourning afflicted soul a 
 due and comely expression of his grief and sorrow, 
 in his complaints both to God and men. 
 
 It is much more becoming a Christian ingenuously 
 to open his troubles, than sullenly to smother them. 
 There is no sin in complaining to God, but much 
 wickedness in complaining of him. Griefs are eased 
 by groans, and heart-pressures relieved by utterance. 
 This was David's course, and constant way, who was 
 a man of affliction : " I poured out my complaint 
 before him ; I showed before him my trouble. 
 When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then 
 thou knewest my path." 
 
 To whom should children go but to their father, 
 to make their moan? whence may they expect relief 
 and comfort, but from him ? Psalm cii. is entitled, 
 " A Psalm for the afflicted, when he is overwhelmed, 
 and poureth out his complaint before the Lord." 
 
 And happy were it, if every afflicted soul would 
 choose this way to express his sorrows ! Did we 
 complain more to God, God would complain less of 
 
us, and quickly abate the matters of our complaint. 
 O, you cannot think how moving, how melting, how 
 prevailhig it is with God, when his poor burdened 
 and afflicted people, in a day of distress and despon- 
 dency, when deep calleth unto deep, and one wave 
 drives another, then for the oppressed soul, with 
 humility, fihal confidence, and faith, to turn itself to 
 the Lord, and thus bespeak him : — 
 
 " Father, what shall I do? My soul is greatly 
 bowed down by trouble ; I am full to the brim ; my 
 vain heart hath looked for relief this way and that 
 way, but none comes ; every door of comfort is shut 
 up against me. Thou hast multipHed my sorrows, 
 and renewed thy witness against me : comfort is re- 
 moved from my outward, and peace from my inner 
 man. Sharp afflictions without, and bitter reflections 
 within. O Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me. 
 Fathers of the flesh pity their distressed children, 
 when they complain to them, and wilt not thou, O 
 Lord, whose compassions as far exceed creature- 
 compassions, as the sea exceeds a drop? O my 
 Father, pity me, support me, deliver me !" 
 
 Oh ! how acceptable is this to God ! how advan- 
 tageous to the soul ! 
 
 We may also make our complaint to men ; so did 
 Job : " Have pity, have pity on me, O ye my friends, 
 for the hand of God hath touched me." And it is 
 a mercy, if we have any friends that are wise, faith- 
 ful, and experienced. They are born for such a 
 time as this : " A brother is born for adversity." 
 But be they what they will, they cannot pity as God, 
 reheve and succour as he ; and oftentimes we may say 
 with Job, " As for me, is my complaint to men ? and 
 c2 
 
52 
 
 if it were, why should not my spirit be troubled?" 
 As if he should say, What great advantage can I 
 get by these complaints ? I may burden the heart 
 of my friend, but how little doth that ease my own? 
 Yet the very opening of the heart to an experienced 
 tender Christian is some relief, and the engaging his 
 prayers is more. Thus far you moan safely : in all 
 this there is no danger. 
 
 3, The afflicted person may ordinarily accuse, 
 judge, and condemn himself, for being the cause and 
 procurer of his own troubles. He may lawfully be 
 discontented, and vexed with himself for his own 
 folly, when the iniquity of his heels compasseth him 
 about. And truly, it is but seldom that any great 
 affliction befalls a gracious person, but he saw the 
 need of such a rod before he felt it. 
 
 Hath God smitten thy child or friend, and didst 
 thou not foresee some sharp trial coming? Did not 
 thy fond, secure, carnal temper, need such a scourge, 
 to awaken, quicken, and purge thee ? Or if thou 
 didst not foresee it, it is now your duty to search and 
 examine yourselves. So the church, in their afflic- 
 tion, resolved — " Let us search and try our ways." 
 When God is smiting, we should be searching : 
 surely our iniquities will inquire after us, if we will 
 not inquire after them. Yea, in the day of afflic- 
 tion, a gracious soul is inquisitive about nothing 
 more than the procuring and provoking cause of his 
 troubles : " Show me wherefore thou contendest with 
 me ?" As if he should say. Lord, what special cor- 
 ruption is it that this rod is sent to rebuke ? What 
 sinful neglect doth it come to humble me for ? O 
 discover it now to me, and recover me now from it ! 
 
5S 
 
 And havinfj found the root and cause of their 
 troubles, ingenuous souls will shame themselves for 
 it, and give glory to God by an humble submission, 
 and vindication of the equity of his proceedings : " I 
 have sinned, what shall I do unto thee, thou pre- 
 server of men?'' He thinks it no shame freely to 
 discover unto God, and deeply to abase himself be- 
 fore him for his folly. 
 
 I remember a choice note that Mr. Brightman 
 hath in his Commentary upon the Canticles. 
 
 *' Holy men," saith he, " after their hearts are 
 renewed by repentance, are not ashamed to remember 
 and confess their slips and shameful falls, to the glory 
 of God ; for they account that glory which such con- 
 fessions take from them is not lost, while it goes to 
 the glory of God. If his glory may rise out of our 
 shame, how willing should we be to take such shame 
 to us !" Holy David was not ashamed to acknow- 
 ledge, " My wounds stink and are corrupt, because 
 of my foolishness." He is the wisest man that thus 
 abases himself before God, 
 
 It is true, God may aifflict from prerogative, or for 
 trial : but we may always see cause enough in our- 
 selves, and it is safest to charge it upon our own folly. 
 
 4. The afflicted Christian may, in an humble 
 submissive manner, plead with God, and be earnest 
 for the removal of the affliction. 
 
 When affliction prcsseth us above strength, when 
 it disables us from duty, or when it gives advantage 
 to temptation, then we may say, with David, " Re- 
 move thy stroke from me, I am consumed by the 
 blow of thine hand." Even our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 in the day of his troubles, poured out his soul with 
 
M 
 
 strong cries and many tears, saying, " Father, if 
 thou be wiHing, let this cup pass from me." Op- 
 pressed nature desires ease ; and even our renewed 
 nature desires freedom from those clogs and tempta- 
 tions which hinder us in duty, or expose us to snares. 
 Thus far we may safely go. 
 
 (2.) But sorrow then becomes sinful and exces- 
 sive, when, 
 
 1. It causes us to slight and despise all our other 
 mercies and enjoyments, as small things in compari- 
 son of what we have lost. 
 
 It often falls out, that the setting of one comfort 
 clouds and benights all the rest. Our tears for our 
 lost enjoyment so blind our eyes, that we cannot see 
 the many other mercies which yet remain. We take 
 so much notice of what is gone, that we take little or 
 no notice of what is left. But this is very sinful ; 
 for it involves in it, both ignorance, ingratitude, and 
 great provocation. 
 
 It is a sin springing from ignorance. Did we 
 know the desert of our sin, we would rather wonder 
 to see one mercy left, than that twenty arc cut off. 
 They that know they have forfeited every mercy, 
 should be thankful that they enjoy any, and patient 
 when they lose any of their comfort. 
 
 Did we know God, even that sovereign Lord, at 
 whose disposal our comforts come and go, who can 
 the next moment blast all that remain, and turn you 
 into hell afterwards, you would prize the mercies he 
 yet indulges to you at a higher value. Did you 
 understand the fickle vanishing nature of the crea- 
 ture, what a flower, what a bubble it is, Oh, how 
 thankful would you- be to find so many yet left in 
 your possession ! 
 
55 
 
 Did you know the case of thousands, as good, 
 yea, better than you, whose whole harvest of comfort 
 in this world is but a handful to the gleanings of the 
 comforts ye still enjoy, who in all their lives never 
 were owners of such comfortable enjoyments as you 
 now overlook, surely you would not act as you do. 
 
 Besides, what vile ingratitude is in this ? What ! 
 are all your remaining mercies worth nothing ? You 
 have buried a child, a friend. Well, but still you 
 have a husband, a wife, other children : or if not, 
 you have comfortable accommodations for yourselves, 
 with health to enjoy them ; or if not, yet have you 
 ordinances of God ; it may be an interest in Christ, 
 and in the covenant, pardon of sin, and hopes of 
 glory. What ! and yet sink at this rate, as if all 
 your mercies, comforts, and hopes, even in botli 
 worlds, were buried in one grave ? Must Ichabod 
 be written upon your best mercies, because mortality 
 is written upon one ? What shameful ingratitude 
 is here ! 
 
 And really, friend, such a carriage as this under 
 the rod is no small provocation to the Lord, to go on 
 in judgment, and make a full end of aU that remains, 
 so that affliction shall not rise up the second time. 
 
 What if God, taking notice how little thou re- 
 gardest the many undeserved favours thou yet pos- 
 sessest, should say — " Well, if thou thinkest them 
 not worth the owning, neither do I think them worth 
 the continuing. Go, death, there is a husband, a 
 wife, other children yet left, smite them all. Go, 
 sickness, and remove the health of his body yet left. 
 Go, reproach, and blast his reputation, which is yet 
 sweet." What woukl you think of this? And 
 
56 
 
 yet, if you are out of Christ, you are in clanger of a 
 far sadder stroke than any, or all yet mentioned. 
 What if God should say — " Prizest thou not my 
 mercy ? Hast thou no value for my goodness and 
 forbearance towards thee ? Is it nothing that I have 
 spared thee thus long in thy sins and rebellions? 
 Well then, I will stretch out my hand upon thy life, 
 cut off that thread which hath kept thee so many 
 years from dropping into hell." 
 
 O think, then, what you have done, by provoking 
 the Lord through your vile ingratitude ! It is a 
 dangerous thing to provoke God, when he is already 
 in a way of judgment. And if you be his own 
 people, and so out of the danger of this last and 
 worst stroke ; yet know, you have better mercies to 
 lose than any you have yet lost. Should God cloud 
 your soul with doubts, let loose Satan to buffet you, 
 remove joy and peace from your inner man, how soon 
 would you be convinced, that the funeral of your 
 dearest friend is but a trifle to this ? 
 
 Well then, whatever God takes, be still thankful 
 for what he leaves. It was the great sin of Israel in 
 the wilderness, that though God had delivered them 
 from their cruel servitude in Egypt, miraculously fed 
 them in the desert, and was leading them on to a 
 land flowing with milk and honey ; yet, as soon as 
 any want did but begin to pinch them, presently all 
 these mercies were forgotten and slighted. " Would 
 to God," say they, " we had died in Egypt." And, 
 *' There is nothing at all beside this manna." Be- 
 ware of this, O ye mourning and afilicted ones ! you 
 see both the sin that is in it, and the danger that 
 attends it. 
 
57 
 
 2. And no less sinful are our sorrows, when they 
 so wholly ingulf our hearts, that we either mind not 
 at all, or are little or nothing sensible of, the public 
 evils and calamity which lie upon the church and 
 people of God. 
 
 Some Christians have such public spirits, that the 
 church's troubles swallow up their personal trouble. 
 Melancthon seemed to take little notice of the death 
 of his child, which he dearly loved, being almost over- 
 whelmed with the miseries lying on the church. 
 
 And it was a good evidence of the graciousness 
 and pubhcness of Eli's spirit, who, sitting in the gate 
 anxiously waiting for tidings from the army, when 
 the tidinjjs came that Israel fled before the Philis- 
 tines, that his two sons Hophni and Phineas were 
 dead, and that the ark of God was taken ; just at the 
 mention of that word, the ark of God, before he 
 heard out the whole narration, his mind quickly pre- 
 saging the issue, he sunk down and died. O that 
 was the sinking, the killing word ! Had the mes- 
 senger stopped at the death of his two sons, like 
 enough he had supported that burden, but the loss 
 of the ark was more to him than sons or daufjhters. 
 
 But how few such public spirits appear even among 
 professors in this selfish generation ! May we not 
 with the apostle complain, " All seek their own, and 
 not the things that are Christ's?" Few men have 
 any great cares or designs lying beyond the bounds 
 of their own private interest. And what we say of 
 cares, is as true of sorrows : if a child die, we are 
 ready to die too, but public calamities pierce us not. 
 
 How few suffer either their domestic comforts to 
 be swallowed up in the church's troubles, or their 
 c3 
 
5a 
 
 domestic troubles to be swallowed up by the church's 
 mercies ! Now, wlien it is thus with us — when we 
 little regard what mercies or miseries lie upon others, 
 but are wholly intent upon our own afflictions — this 
 is a sinful sorrow, and ought to be sorrowed for. 
 
 3. Our sorrows then become sinful and exorbitant, 
 when they divert us from, or distract us in, our du- 
 ties, so that our intercourse with heaven is stopped 
 and interrupted by them. 
 
 How long can we sit alone musing upon a dead 
 creature ! Here our thoughts easily flow, but how 
 hard to fix them upon the living God ! When our 
 hearts should be in heaven with our Christ, they are 
 in the grave with our dead. May not many afflicted 
 souls justly complain, that their trouble had taken 
 away their Christ from them, (I mean, as to sweet 
 sensible communion,) and laid the dead child in his 
 room ? 
 
 Poor creature, cease to weep any longer for thy 
 dead relation, and weep rather for thy dead heart. 
 Is this thy compliance with God's design in afflict- 
 ing thee ? What, to grow a greater stranger to him 
 than before ! Or is this the way to thy cure and 
 comfort in affliction, to refrain prayer, and turn thy 
 back upon God? 
 
 Or, if thou darest not wholly neglect thy duty, 
 yet the affliction spoils the success and comfort of it ; 
 thy heart is wandering, dead, distracted in prayer and 
 meditation, so that thou hast no relief or comfort 
 from it. 
 
 Rouse up thyself. Christian, and consider this is 
 not right. Surely the rod works not kindly now. 
 W^hat ! did thy love to God expire when thy friends 
 
59 
 
 expired? Is thy heart as cold in. duty as his body 
 is in the grave? Hath natural death seized him, 
 and spiritual deadness seized thee ? Surely, then, 
 thou hast more reason to lament thy dead heart, than 
 thy dead friend. Divert the stream of thy troubles 
 speedily, and labour to recover thyself out of this 
 temper quickly ; lest sad experience shortly tell thee, 
 that what thou now mournest for, is but a trifle to 
 what thou shalt mourn for hereafter. To lose the 
 heavenly warmth and spiritual liveliness of thy affec- 
 tions, is undoubtedly a far more considerable loss, 
 than to lose the wife of thy bosom, or the sweetest 
 child that ever a tender parent laid in the grave. 
 
 Reader, if this be thy case, thou hast reason to 
 challenge the first place among the mourners. It is 
 better for thee to bury ten sons, than to remit one 
 degree of love or delight in God. The end of God 
 in smiting, was to win thy heart nearer to him, by 
 removing that which estranged it: how then dost 
 thou cross the very design of God in this dispensa- 
 tion ? Must God then lose his delight in thy fel- 
 lowship, because thou hast lost thine in the creature ? 
 Surely, when thy troubles thus accompany thee to 
 thy closet, they are sinful and extravagant troubles. 
 
 4. Then you may also conclude your sorrows to 
 be excessive and sinful, when they so overload and 
 oppress your bodies, as to endanger your lives, or 
 render them useless and unfit for service. 
 
 Worldly sorrow works death ; that is, sorrow after 
 the manner of worldly men, sorrow in a mere carnal 
 natural way, which is not relieved by any spiritual 
 reasonings and considerations. This falls so heavy 
 sometimes upon the body, that it sinks under the 
 
60 
 
 weiglit, and is cast Into such diseases as are never 
 more wrought ofF, or healed in this world. Heavi- 
 ness in the heart of a man makes it stoop, saith So- 
 lomon. The stoutest body must stoop under heart 
 pressures. 
 
 " It is with the mind of man,'* saith one, " as 
 with the stone tyrhenus — as long as it is whole, it 
 swimmeth; but once broken, it sinks presently." 
 Grief is a moth, which, getting into the mind, will, 
 in a short time, make the body, be it ever so strong 
 and well wrought a piece, like an old seary garment. 
 
 Philosophers and physicians generally reckon sor- 
 row among the chief causes of shortening life. Christ 
 was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with griefs : 
 and this, some think, was the reason that he appeared 
 as a man of fifty, when he was little more than thirty 
 years old. But his sorrows were of another kind. 
 
 Many a man's soul is to his body, as a sharp knife 
 to a thin sheath, which easily cuts it through : and 
 what do we, by poring and pondering upon our trou- 
 bles, but cut the deeper and quicker ? Of all the 
 creatures that ever God made, (devils only excepted,) 
 man is the most able and apt to be his own tormentor. 
 
 How unmercifully do we load them in limes of 
 affliction ! How do we not only waste their strength 
 by sorrow, but deny relief and necessary refreshment ! 
 They must carry the load, but be allowed no refresh- 
 ment: if they can eat the bread of affliction, and 
 drink tears, they may feed at full ; but no pleasant 
 bread, no quiet sleep is permitted them. Surely you 
 would not burden a beast, as you do your own bodies; 
 you would pity and relieve a brute beast groaning 
 and sinking under o heavy burden, but you will not 
 pity nor relieve your own bodies. 
 
61 
 
 Some men's souls have given such deep wounds 
 to their bodies, that they are never like to enjoy 
 many easy or comfortable days more, whilst they 
 dwell in them. 
 
 Now, this is very sinful, and displeasing to God; 
 for if he have such a tender care for our bodies, that 
 he would not have us swallowed up of overmuch grief, 
 no, though it be for sin, 2 Cor. ii. 7. but even to 
 that sorrow sets bounds ; how much less with out- 
 ward sorrow for temporal loss ? May not your stock 
 of natural strength be employed to better purposes, 
 think you, than these ? Time may come, that you 
 may earnestly wish you had that health and strength 
 again to spend for God, which you now so lavishly 
 waste, and prodigally cast away upon your troubles, 
 to no purpose or advantage. It was therefore a high 
 point of wisdom in David, and recorded no doubt for 
 our imitation, who, when the child was dead, ceased 
 to mourn, but arose, and washed himself, and eat 
 bread. 
 
 5. When affliction sours the spirit with discon- 
 tent, and makes it inwardly grudge against the hand 
 of God, then our trouble is full of sin, and we ought 
 to be humbled for it before the Lord. 
 
 Whatever God doth with us or ours, still we 
 should maintain good thoughts of him. A gracious 
 heart cleaves nearer and nearer to God in affliction, 
 and can justify God in his severest strokes, acknow- 
 ledging them to be all just and holy : — " I know also 
 tbat thy judgments are right, and that thou in faith- 
 fulness hast afflicted me." And hereby the soul 
 may comfortably evidence to itself its own upright- 
 ness and sincere love to God. Yea, it hath been 
 
/ 62 
 
 of singular use to some souls, to take right measures 
 of their love to God in such trials : to have lovely 
 and well-pleased thoughts of God, even when he 
 smites us in our nearest and dearest comforts, argues 
 plainly, that we love him for himself, and not for his 
 gifts only; and that his interest in the heart is deeper 
 than any creature-interest is. And such is the com- 
 fort that hath resulted to some, from such discoveries 
 of their own hearts, by close smarting afflictions, that 
 they would not part with it, to have their comforts 
 (whose removal occasioned them) given back in lieu 
 of it. 
 
 But to swell with secret discontent, and have hard 
 thoughts of God, as if he had done us wrong, or 
 dealt more severely with us than any — O this is a 
 vile temper, cursed fruit springing from an evil root ; 
 a very carnal, ignorant, proud heart ; or, at least, 
 from a very distempered, if renewed heart. So it 
 was with Jonah, when God smote his gourd — "Yea," 
 saith he, " I do well to be angry even unto death." 
 Poor man, he was highly distempered at this time, 
 and out of frame : this was not his true temper, or 
 ordinary frame, but a surprise ; the effect of a par- 
 oxysm of temptation, in which his passions had been 
 overheated. 
 
 Few dare to vent it in such language. But how- 
 many have their hearts imbittered by discontent, and 
 secret risings against the Lord ! which, if ever the 
 Lord open their eyes to see, will cost them more 
 trouble than ever that of affliction did, whicli gave 
 the occasion of it. 
 
 I deny not, but the best heart may be tempted to 
 think and spciik frawardly concerning these works of 
 
63 
 
 the Lord : that envious adversary, the devil, will blow 
 the coals, and labour to blow up our spirits at such 
 a time into high discontent. The temptation was 
 strong even upon David himself, to take up hard 
 thoughts of God, and to conclude, " Verily, I have 
 cleansed my heart in vain." As if he had said. How 
 little privilege from the worst of evils hath a man by 
 his godliness ! But he soon suppressed such motions : 
 " If I should say thus, I should offend against the 
 generation of my children :" meaning that he would 
 condemn the whole race of godly men through the 
 whole world; for who is there among them all, but 
 is, or hath been, or may be, afflicted as severely as 
 myself? 
 
 " Surely it is meet to be said unto God, I have 
 borne chastisement, I will not offend any more." 
 Whatever God doth with you, speak well, and think 
 well, of him and his works. 
 
 6. Our sorrows exceed due bounds, when we con- 
 tinually excite and provoke them by willing irritations. 
 
 Grief, like a lion, loves to play with us before it 
 destroys us. And strange it is that we should find 
 some kind of pleasure in rousing our sorrows. It is 
 Seneca's observation, and experimentally true, "That 
 even sorrow itself hath a certain kind of delight at- 
 tending it." 
 
 The Jews that were with Mary in the house to 
 comfort her, " when they saw that she went out 
 hastily, followed her, saying. She goeth to the grave, 
 to weep there." " As they do," saith Calvin, " that 
 seek to provoke their troubles, by going to the grave, 
 or often looking upon the dead body." 
 
 Thus we delight to look upon the rehcs of our 
 
64 
 
 deceased friends, and often to mention their actions 
 and sayings, not so much for any matter of holy and 
 weighty instruction, or imitation — for that would war- 
 rant and commend the action ; but rather to rub the 
 wound, and fetch fresh blood from it, by piercing our- 
 selves with some little trials, yet wounding circum- 
 stances. I have known many that will sit and talk 
 of the features, actions, and sayings of their children, 
 for hours together, and weep at the rehearsal of them, 
 and that for many months after they are gone ; so 
 keeping the wound continually open, and excruciat- 
 ing their own hearts without any benefit at all by 
 them. A lock of hair, or some such trifle, must be 
 kept for this purpose, to renew their sorrow, by daily 
 looking on it. On this account Jacob would not 
 have his son called Benoni, lest it should renew his 
 sorrow, but Benjamin. 
 
 I am far from commending a brutish oblivion of 
 our dear relations, and condemn it as much as I 
 do this childish and unprofitable remembrance. O, 
 friends, we have other things to do under the rod 
 than these ! Were it not better to be searching 
 our hearts and houses, when God's rod is upon us, 
 and studying how to answer the end of it, by morti- 
 fying those corruptions which provoke it? Surely 
 the rod works not kindly till it comes to this. 
 
 7. Our sorrows may then be pronounced sinful, 
 when they deafen our ears to all the wholesome and 
 seasonable words of counsel and comfort, offered us 
 for our relief and support. " A voice was heard in 
 Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping ; Rachel 
 weeping for her children, and would not be comforted 
 for her children, because they were not." She will 
 
65 
 
 admit no comfort, her disease is curable by no otlier 
 means but the restoration of her children : give her 
 them again, and she will be quiet, else you speak unto 
 the air, she regards not whatever you say. 
 
 Thus Israel, in the cruel bondage in Egypt : — 
 Moses brings them the glad tidings of deliverance ; 
 " but they hearkened not to him, because of the 
 anguish of spirit, and their cruel bondage." 
 
 Thus obstinately fixed are many in their trouble, 
 that no words of advice or comfort find any place 
 with them ; yea, I have known some exceeding 
 quick and ingenious, even above the rate of their 
 common parts and abilities, in inventing shifts, and 
 framing objections, to turn off comfort from them- 
 selves, as if they had been hired to plead against 
 their own interest ; and if they be driven from those 
 pleas, yet they are settled in their troubles, too fast 
 to be moved : say what you will, they mind it not, 
 or at most it abides not upon them. Let proper 
 seasonable advice or comfort be tendered, they re- 
 fuse it : your counsel is good, but they have no heart 
 to it now. " My soul refused to be comforted." 
 
 To want comfort in time of affliction, is an ag- 
 irravation of our affliction: but to refuse it when 
 offered us, wants not sin. Time may come when we 
 would be glad to receive comfort, or hear a word of 
 support, and shall be denied it. 
 
 Oh, it is a mercy to the afflicted to have Barna- 
 bas with them, an interpreter, one among a thousand ! 
 and it will be the great sin and folly of the afflicted, 
 to spill those excellent cordials prepared and ottered 
 to them, like water upon the ground, out of a fro- 
 ward or dead spirit under trouble. Say not with 
 
66 
 
 them, " My hope is perished from the Lord : re- 
 membering mine affliction and my misery, the worm- 
 wood and the gall." It is a thousand pities the 
 wormwood and gall of affliction should so disgust a 
 Christian, as that he should not at any time be able 
 to relish the sweetness that is in Christ, and in the 
 promises. — And thus I have despatched the first 
 part of my design, in showing you wherein the sin 
 of mourners doth not lie, and in what it doth. 
 
 II. Having cleared this, and shown you wherein 
 the sin and danger lies, my way is prepared to the 
 second thing proposed, namely, To dissuade mourn- 
 ers from the sinful excesses of sorrows, and keep the 
 golden bridle of moderation upon their passions in 
 times of affliction. And O that my words may be 
 as successful upon those pensive souls that shall read 
 them, as Abigail's were to David, who, when he per- 
 ceived how proper and sensible they were, said, 
 '' Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, who sent thee 
 this day to meet me, and blessed be thy advice !" 
 
 I am sensible how hard a task it is I here under- 
 take : to charm down, and allay mutinous, raging, 
 and tumultuous passions ; to give a check to the tor- 
 rent of passion, is ordinarily but to provoke it, and 
 make it rage and swell the more. 
 
 The work is the Lord's, and wholly depends upon 
 his power and blessing. He that saith to the sea, 
 when the waves thereof roar, " Be still," can also 
 quiet and compose the stormy and tumultuous sea 
 that rages in the breasts of the afflicted, and casts 
 up nothing but the froth of vain and useless com- 
 plaints of our misery, or the dirt of sinful and wicked 
 complaints of the dealings of the Lord with us. 
 
07 
 
 The rod of affliction goes round, and visits all 
 sorts of persons without difference. It is upon the 
 tabernacles of the just and of the unjust, the right- 
 eous and the wicked: both are mourninfj under the 
 rod. The godly are not so to be minded, as that the 
 other be wholly neglected : they have as strong and 
 tender, though not as regular affections to their re- 
 lations, and must not be wholly suffered to sink under 
 their unrelieved burdens. 
 
 Here, therefore, I must have respect to two sorts 
 of persons, whom I find in tears upon the same ac- 
 count, I mean the loss of their dear relations — the 
 regenerate and the unregenerate. I am a debtor to 
 both, and shall endeavour their support and assis- 
 tance : for even the unregenerate call for help and 
 pity, and must not be neglected and wholly slighted 
 in their afflictions. We must pity them that can- 
 not pity themselves. The law of God commands 
 us to help a beast, if fallen under its burden — how 
 much more a man sinking under a load of sorrows. 
 
 I confess, uses of comfort to the unregenerate are 
 not (ordinarily) in use among us, and it may seem 
 strange whence any thing of support should be drawn 
 for them that have no special interest in Christ or 
 the promises. 
 
 I confess, also, I find myself under great disadvan- 
 tages for this work. I cannot offer them those re- 
 viving cordials that are contained in Christ, and the 
 covenant for God's afflicted people : but yet, such is 
 the goodness of God, even to his enemies, that they 
 are not left wholly without support, or means to allay 
 their sorrow. 
 
 If this, therefore, be thy case, who rcadest these 
 
68 
 
 lines — afflicted and unsanctified, mourning bitterly 
 for thy dead friends — thou hast more cause to mourn 
 for thy dead soul, Christless and graceless, as well as 
 childless or friendless; no comfort in hand, nor yet 
 in hope ; full of trouble, and no vent by prayer or 
 faith to ease thy heart. 
 
 Poor creature, thy case is sad ; but yet do not 
 wholly sink, and suffer thyself to be swallowed up 
 of grief. Thou hast laid thy dear one in the grave, 
 yet throw not thyself headlong into the grave after 
 him ; that will not be the way to remedy the misery ; 
 but sit down a while, and ponder these three things: — 
 
 1. That of all persons in the world, thou hast 
 more reason to be tender over thy life and health, 
 and careful to preserve it: for if thy troubles de- 
 stroy thee, thou art eternally lost, undone for ever. 
 " Worldly sorrow," saith the apostle, " works death." 
 And if it works thy death, it works thy damnation 
 also ; for hell follows that pale horse. If a believer 
 dies, there is no danger of hell to him — the second 
 death hath no power over him ; but woe to thee if 
 it overtake thee in thy sin ; beware, therefore, what 
 thou dost against thy health and life. Do not put 
 the candle of sorrow too near that thread, by which 
 thou hangest over the mouth of hell. Oh, it is far 
 better to be childless or friendless on earth, than 
 hopeless and remediless in hell ! 
 
 2. Own and admire the bounty and goodness of 
 God manifested to thee in this affliction ; that, when 
 death came into thy family to smite and carry off one, 
 it had not fallen to thy lot to be the person : thy 
 husband, wife, or child is taken, and thou art left ; 
 had thy name been in the commission, thou hadst 
 been now past hope. 
 
m 
 
 O the sparing mercy of God ! the wonderful 
 long-suflPering of God towards thee ! Possibly that 
 poor creature that is gone never provoked God as 
 thou hast done ; thy poor child never abused mercies, 
 neglected calls, treasured up the thousandth part of 
 that guilt thou hast done : so that thou mightest well 
 imagine it might rather have cut thee down, thou 
 hast so provoked God, than thy poor little one. 
 
 But O the admirable patience of God ! O the 
 riches of his long-suffering ! Thou art only warned, 
 not smitten by it. Is there nothing in this worth 
 thankful acknowledgment ? Is it not better to be 
 in black for another on earth, than in the blackness 
 of darkness for ever ? Is it not easier to go to the 
 grave with thy dead friend, and weep there, than to 
 go to hell among the damned, where there is " weep- 
 ing, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth ?" 
 
 3. This affliction, for which thou mournest, may 
 be the greatest mercy to thee that ever yet befell 
 thee in this world. God hath now made thy heart 
 soft by trouble, showed thee the vanity of this world, 
 and what a poor trifle it is which thou madest thy 
 happiness: there is now a dark cloud spread over 
 all thy worldly comforts. Now, O now ! if the Lord 
 would but strike in with this affliction, and by it open 
 thine eyes to see thy deplorable state, and take off 
 thy heart for ever from the vain world which thou now 
 seest hath nothing in it; and cause thee to choose 
 Christ, the only abiding good, for thy portion : if 
 now thy affliction may but bring thy sin to remem- 
 brance, and thy dead friend may but bring thee to a 
 sense of thy dead soul, which is as cold to God and 
 spiritual things, as his body is to thee, and more 
 
70 
 
 loathsome in his eyes than that corpse is, or shortly 
 will be, to the eyes of men, — then this day is certainly 
 a day of the greatest mercy that ever yet thou saw- 
 est. O happy death, that shall prove life to thy soul! 
 Why, this is sometimes the way of the Lord with 
 men : " If they be bound in fetters, and be holden 
 in cords of affliction, then he showeth them their 
 work, and their transgressions, that they have ex- 
 ceeded. He openeth also their ear to discipline, and 
 commandeth them that they return from iniquity." 
 
 consider, poor pensive creature ! that which 
 stole away thy heart from God is now gone : that 
 which eat up thy time and thoughts, that there was 
 no room for God, soul, or eternity, in them, is gone: 
 all the vain expectations that thou raisest up to thy- 
 self, from that poor creature which now lies in the 
 dust, are in one day perished. O what an advan- 
 tage hast thou now for heaven, beyond whatever 
 thou yet hadst ! if God wiR but bless this rod, thou 
 wilt have cause to keep many a thanksgiving day for 
 this day. 
 
 1 pray let these three things be pondered by you. 
 I can bestow no more comforts upon you — your con- 
 dition bars the best comforts from you — they belong 
 to the people of God, and you have yet nothing to 
 do with them. 
 
 I shall, therefore, turn from you to them, and pre- 
 sent some choicer comforts to them, to whom they 
 properly belong, which may be of great use to you 
 in reading; if it be but to convince you of the 
 blessed privilege and state of the people of God in 
 the greatest plunges of troubles in this world, and 
 what advantages ^their interest in Christ gives them 
 for peace and settlement, beyond that state you are in. 
 
71 
 
 And here I do, with much more freedom and hope 
 of success, apply myself to the work of counselling 
 and comforting the afflicted. — You are the fearers of 
 the Lord, and tremble at his word — the least sin is 
 more formidable to you than the greatest affliction. 
 Doubtless you would rather choose to bury all your 
 children, than provoke and grieve your heavenly Fa- 
 ther. Your relations are dear, but Christ is dearer 
 to you by far. 
 
 Well, then, let me persuade you to retire a while 
 into your closets, redeem a little time from your un- 
 profitable sorrows, ease and empty your hearts before 
 the Lord, and beg his blessing upon the relieving, 
 quieting, and heart-composing considerations that 
 follow ; some of which are more general and com- 
 mon, some more particular and special; but all of 
 them such as, through the blessing of God, may be 
 very useful at this time to your souls. 
 
 Consideration L Consider, in this day of sor- 
 row, who is the framer and author of this rod by 
 which you now smart. Is it not the Lord? And 
 if the Lord hath done it, it becomes you meekly to 
 submit : " Be still, and know that I am God," 
 
 Man and man stand upon even ground: if your 
 fellow-creature do any thing that displeases you, you 
 may not only inquire, who did it? but, why he did 
 it ? You may demand his ground and reasons for 
 what he hath done ; but you may not do so here : 
 it is expected that this one thing, " The Lord hath 
 done it," should, without any further disputes or 
 contests, silence and quiet you, whatever it be that 
 he hath done. " Why dost thou strive against him ? 
 For he giveth not an account of any of his matters." 
 
7^ 
 
 The supreme Being must needs be an unaccountable 
 and uncontrollable Beinfj. 
 
 It is a shame for a child to strive with his father; 
 a shame for a servant to contend with his master : 
 but for a creature to quarrel and strive with the God 
 that made him, O how shameful is it ! Surely it 
 is highly reasonable that you be subject to that will 
 whence you proceeded, and that he who formed you 
 and yours should dispose of both as seemeth him 
 good. It is said, " That whatsoever the king did 
 pleased all the people." And shall any thing the 
 Lord doth displease you ? He can do no wrong. 
 If we pluck a rose in the bud, as we walk in our 
 gardens, who shall blame us for it? It is our own, 
 and we may crop it off when we please. Is not this 
 the case ? Thy sweet bud, which was cropped off 
 before it was fully blown, was cropped off by him 
 that owned it, yea, him that formed it. If his do- 
 minion be absolute, surely his disposal should be ac- 
 ceptable. 
 
 It was so to good Eli — " It is the Lord ; let him 
 do what seemeth him good." And it was so to Da- 
 vid — " I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, be- 
 cause thou didst it." O let it be for ever remem- 
 bered, that " he whose name alone is Jehovah, is the 
 Most Hii^h over all the earth !" 
 
 The glorious sovereignty of God is illustriously 
 displayed in two things : his decrees, and his provi- 
 dence. With respect to the first, he saith, " I will 
 have mercy on whom I will have mercy." Here is 
 no ground of disputing with him ; for so it is said, 
 " Who art thou, O man, that repliest against God, 
 Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, 
 
73 
 
 Why hast thou made me thus ? Hath not the potter 
 power over the clay ?" 
 
 And as to his providence, wherein his sovereignty 
 is also manifested, it is said, " Be silent, O all flesh, 
 before the Lord : for he is raised up out of his habi- 
 tation." It is spoken of his providential working in 
 the changes of kingdoms, and desolations that attend 
 them. 
 
 Now, seeing the case stands thus, that the Lord 
 hath done it, it is his pleasure to have it so ; and if 
 it had not been his will, it could never have been as 
 it is : he that gave thee (rather, lent thee) thy rela- 
 tion, hath taken him. O how quiet should this 
 consideration leave thee ! If your landlord, who 
 hath many years suffered you to dwell in his house, 
 do at last warn you out of it, though he tell you 
 not why, you will not contend with him, or say he 
 hath done you wrong ; much less if he tell you it will 
 be more for his profit and accommodation to take it 
 into his own hand, than let it to you any longer. 
 
 Doubtless, reason will tell you, you ought quietly 
 to pack up and quit it. It is your great Landlord 
 from whom you hold (at pleasure) your own, and 
 your relations' lives, that hath now warned you out 
 from one of them. It being more for his glory (it 
 may be) to take it into his own hand by death ; and 
 must you dispute the case with him ? 
 
 Come, Christian, this no way becomes thee ; but 
 rather, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." Look 
 off from a dead creature, — lift up thine eyes to the 
 sovereign, wise, and holy pleasure, that ordered this 
 affliction : consider who he is, and what thou art ; 
 D 12 
 
74 
 
 yea, pursue this consideration till thou canst say, I 
 am filled with the will of God. 
 
 Consideration 2. Ponder well the quality of the 
 comfort you are deprived of, and remember, that when 
 you had it, it stood but in the rank and order of 
 common and inferior comforts. 
 
 Children, and all other relations, arc but common 
 blessings, which God indifferently bestows upon his 
 friends and enemies, and by the having or losing of 
 them, no man knows either love or hatred. It is 
 said of the wicked, That they are full of children, 
 yea, and of children that survive them too ; for they 
 leave their substance to their babes. Full of sin, 
 yet full of children ; and these children live to inherit 
 their parents' sins and estates together. 
 
 It is the mistaking of the quality and nature of 
 our enjoyments, that so plunges us into trouble when 
 we lose them. We think there is so necessary a 
 connection betwixt these creatures and our happiness, 
 that we are utterly undone when they fail us. 
 
 But this is our mistake. There is no such neces- 
 sary connection or dependence : wc may be happy 
 without these things. It is not father, mother, 
 wife, or child, in which our chief good and felicity 
 lies : we have higher, better, and more enduring 
 things than these : all these may perish, and yet our 
 souls secure and safe ; yea, and our comfort in the 
 way, as well as end, may be safe enough though 
 these be gone. God hath better things to comfort 
 his people with than these, and worse rods to afflict 
 you with than the removal of these : had God let 
 your children live and flourish, and given you case and 
 rest in your tabernacle, but in the meantime inflicted 
 
75 
 
 spiritual judgments upon your souls, how much more 
 sad had your case been ! 
 
 But as long as our best mercies are all safe, the 
 things tliat have salvation in them remain, and only 
 the things that have vanity in them are removed : 
 you are not prejudiced or much hindered as to the 
 attainment of your last end by the loss of these 
 things. 
 
 Alas ! it was not Christ's intention to purchase 
 for you a sensual content in the enjoyment of these 
 earthly comforts, but to redeem you from all iniquity, 
 purge your corruptions, sanctify your natures, wean 
 your hearts from this vain world, and so to dispose 
 and order your present condition, that, finding no 
 rest and content here, you might the more ardently 
 pant and sigh after the rest which remains for the 
 people of God. And are you not in as probable a 
 way to attain this end now, as you were before ? Do 
 you think you are not as likely, by these methods of 
 providence, to be weaned from the world, as by more 
 pleasant and prosperous ones? Every wise man 
 reckons that station and condition to be best for him, 
 which most promotes and secures his last end and 
 great design. 
 
 Well then, reckon you are as well without these 
 things as with them ; yea, and better too : if they 
 Were but clogs and snares upon your affections, you 
 have really lost nothing, if the things wherein your 
 eternal happiness consisteth be yet safe. Many of 
 God's dearest children have been denied such com- 
 forts as these ; and many have been deprived of 
 them, and yet never the farther from Christ and 
 heaven for that. 
 
 D 2 
 
76 
 
 Consideration 3. Always remember, that how soon 
 and unexpected soever your parting with your rela- 
 tions was, yet your lease was expired before you lost 
 them, and you enjoyed them every moment of the 
 time that God intended them for you. 
 
 Before this relation, whose loss you lament, was 
 born, the time of your enjoyment and separation was 
 unalterably fixed and limited in heaven, by the God 
 of the spirits of all flesh : and although it was a secret 
 to you whilst your friend was with you, yet now it 
 is a plain and evident thing, that this was the time 
 of separation before appointed, and that the life of 
 your friend could by no means be protracted or ab- 
 breviated, but must keep your company just so far, 
 and then part with you. 
 
 This position wants no full and clear Scripture 
 authority for its foundation : how pregnant and full 
 in that text — " Seeing his days are determined, the 
 number of his months are with thee : thou hast ap- 
 pointed him his bounds, which he cannot pass." 
 
 The time of our life, as well as the place of our 
 liabitation, was fixed before we were born. 
 
 It will greatly conduce to your settlement and 
 peace to be well established in this truth. That the 
 .•i|)pointed time was fully come, when you and your 
 doar relation parted ; for it will prevent and save a 
 oreat deal of trouble which comes from our after 
 1 (.'flections. 
 
 Oh, if this had been done, or that omitted, had 
 it not been for such miscarriages and oversights, my 
 flear husband, wife, or child, had been alive at this 
 day ! No, no ; the Lord's time was fully come, and 
 all things concurred and fell in together, to bring 
 
77 
 
 about the pleasure of his will : let that satisfy you. 
 Had the ablest physicians in the world been tliere, 
 or had they that were there prescribed another course, 
 as it is now, so it would have been, when they had 
 done all. Only it must be precautioned, that the 
 decree of God no way excuses any voluntary sinful 
 neglects or miscarriages. God overrules these things 
 to serve his own ends, but no way approves them ; 
 but it greatly relieves, against all our involuntary 
 and unavoidable oversights and mistakes about the 
 use of means, or the timing of them ; for it could^not 
 be otherwise than now it is. 
 
 Objection. But many things are alleged against 
 this position, and that with much seeming counte- 
 nance, from such scriptures as these: " Blood-thirsty 
 men shall not live out half their days." " Why 
 shouldst thou die before thy time?" " O my God, 
 take me not away in the midst of my days." " The 
 fear of the Lord prolongeth days, but the years of 
 the wicked shall be shortened." — It is demanded, 
 what tolerable sense we can give these scriptures, 
 while we assert that the term of death is unalterably 
 fixed? 
 
 Am. The sense of these scriptures will be cleared 
 up to full satisfaction, by distinguishing death and the 
 terms of it. 
 
 1. We must distinguish death into natural and 
 violent. 
 
 The wicked and blood-thirsty man shall not live 
 out half his days ; that is, half so long as he might 
 live, according to the course of nature, to the vigour 
 and soundness of his natural constitution : for his 
 wickedness either drowns nature in an excess of riot 
 
78 
 
 and luxury, or exposes him to the hand of justice, 
 which cuts him oflPforhis wickedness before he hath 
 accompUshed half his days. 
 
 2. Again, we must distinguish of tlic term or 
 hmit for death, which is either general or special. 
 
 The general limit is now seventy or eighty years : 
 " The days of our years are threescore years and 
 ten ; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore 
 years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow." To 
 this short limit, the life of man is generally reduced 
 since the flood : and though there be some few ex- 
 ceptions, yet the general rule is not thereby de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 The special limit is that proportion of time which 
 God, by his own counsel and will, hath allotted to 
 every individual person : and it is only known to us 
 by the event. This we affirm to be a fixed and im- 
 moveable term : with it all things shall fall in, and 
 observe the will of God in our dissolution at that 
 time. But because the general limit is known, and 
 this special limit is a secret hid in God's own breast 
 — therefore man reckons by the former account, and 
 may be said, when he dies at thirty or forty years 
 old, to be cut off in the midst of his days : for it is 
 so, reckoning by the general account ; though he be 
 not cut off till the end of his days, reckoning by his 
 special limit. 
 
 Thus, he that is wicked dies before his time ; that 
 is, the time he might attain to in an ordinary way ; 
 but not before tlie time God hath appointed. And 
 so in all other objected scripture. 
 
 It is not at all proper, in a subject of this nature, 
 to digress into a controversy. Alas ! the poor 
 
79 
 
 mourner, overwhelmed with grief, hath no pleasure 
 in that : it is not proper for him at this time ; and 
 therefore I shall, for the present, waive the contro- 
 versy, and wind up this consideration with an humble 
 and serious admonition to the afflicted, that they will 
 wisely consider the matter. The Lord's time was 
 come ; your relations lived with you every moment 
 that God intended them for you, before you had 
 them. 
 
 O parents ! mind this, I beseech you : the time 
 of your child's continuance in the womb was fixed to 
 a minute by the Lord ; and when the parturient ful- 
 ness of that time was come, were you not willing it 
 should be delivered thence into the world ? The 
 tender mother would not have it abide one minute 
 longer in the womb, how well soever she loved it ; 
 and is there not the same reason we should be will- 
 ing, when God's appointed time is come, to have it 
 delivered by death out of this state which, in respect 
 of the life of heaven, is but as the life of a child in 
 the womb, to its life in the open world. 
 
 And let none say, The death of children is a pre- 
 mature death. God hath ways to ripen them for 
 heaven, whom he intends to gather thither betimes, 
 which we know not : in respect to fitness, they died 
 in a full age, though they be cut off in the bud of 
 their time. 
 
 He that appointed the seasons of the year, ap- 
 pointed the seasons of our comforts in relations. 
 And as those seasons cannot be altered, no more can 
 these. All the course of providence is guided by an 
 unalterable decree ; what falls out casually to our 
 apprehension, yet falls out necessarily in respect of 
 
80 
 
 God's appointment. O, therefore, be quieted in 
 it ; this must needs be as it is ! 
 
 Consideration 4. Hath God smitten your darhng, 
 and taken away the dehght of your eyes with this 
 stroke ? Bear this stroke with patience and quiet 
 submission ; for how know you but your trouble might 
 have been greater from the life, than it is now from 
 the death, of your children ? 
 
 Sad experience made a holy man once to say, It 
 is better to weep for ten dead children, than for one 
 living child : a living child may prove a continual 
 dropping, yea, a continual dying to the parent's heart. 
 What a sad word was that of David to Abishai ! 
 " Behold," saith he, " my son, which came out of 
 my bowels, seeketh my life." I remember Seneca, 
 in his consolatory epistle to his friend Marullus, 
 brings in his friend thus aggravating the death of his 
 child : " O," saith Marullus, " had my child lived 
 with me, to how great modesty, gravity, and prudence, 
 might my discipline have formed and moulded him !" 
 " But," saith Seneca, (which is more to be feared,) 
 " he might have been, as mostly others are ; for look," 
 saith he, " what children come even out of the wor- 
 thiest families : such who exercise both their own 
 and others' lusts : in all whose life, there is not a 
 day without the mark of some notorious wickedness 
 upon it." 
 
 I know your tender love to your children will 
 scarce admit such jealousies of them : they are, for 
 the present, sweet, lovely, innocent companions ; and 
 you doubt not, but by your care of their education, 
 and prayer for them, they might have been the joy 
 of your hearts. 
 
81 
 
 Why, doubtless, Esau, when he was Httle, and in 
 his tender age, promised as much comfort to his 
 parents as Jacob did; and 1 question not but Isaac 
 and Rebecca (a gracious pair) spent as many prayers, 
 and bestowed as many holy counsels upon him as 
 they did upon his brother : but when the child grew 
 up to riper years, then he became a sharp affliction 
 to his parents ; for it is said, that when Esau was 
 forty years old, he took to wife Judith the daughter 
 of Beeri the Hittite, which was a great grief to 
 the mind of Isaac and Rebecca. The word in 
 the original, comes from a root that signifies to im- 
 bitter : this child imbittered the minds of his parents 
 by his rebelhon against them, and despising their 
 counsels. 
 
 And I cannot doubt but Abraham disciphned 
 his family as strictly as any of you. Never man 
 received a higher encomium from God upon that 
 account : " I know him, that he will command his 
 children and his household after him, and they shall 
 keep the way of the Lord." Nor can I think, but 
 he presented as many and frequent prayers for his 
 children, and particularly for his Ishmael, as any of 
 you : we find one, and that a very pathetical one, 
 recorded — " O that Ishmael might live before thee !" 
 and yet you know how he proved a son that yielded 
 him no more comfort than Esau did to Isaac and 
 Rebecca. 
 
 O how much more common is it for parents to see 
 the vices and evils of their children, tlian their vir- 
 tues and graces ! And where one parent lives to 
 rejoice in beholding the grace of God shining forth 
 in the life of his child, there are twenty, it may be a 
 D 3 
 
8^ 
 
 Iiundred, that live to behold, to their vexation and 
 grief, the workings of corruption in them. 
 
 It is a note of Plutarch, in his morals — " Nicoles," 
 saith he, "lived not to see the noble victory obtained 
 by his son Themistocles ; nor Miltiades to sec the 
 battle his son Cimon won in the field ; nor Xantip- 
 pus to hear his son Pericles preach and make orations. 
 Ariston never heard his son Plato's lectures and dis- 
 putations. But men," saith he, " commonly live to 
 see their children fall a gaming, revelling, drinking, 
 and whoring : multitudes live to see such things to 
 their sorrow." And if thou be a gracious soul, O 
 what a cut would this be to thy very heart ! to see 
 those (as David spake of his son Absalom) that came 
 out of thy bowels, to be sinning against God, that 
 God whom thou lovcst, and whose honour is dearer 
 to thee than thy very life. 
 
 But admit they should prove civil and hopeful 
 children, yet mightest thou not live to see more 
 misery come upon him than thou couldst endure to 
 see ? O think what a sad and doleful sight was that 
 to Zedekiah — the king of Babylon brought his 
 children and slew them before his eyes ! Horrid 
 spectacle ! And that leads to 
 
 Consideration 5. How know you, but by this 
 stroke, which you so much lament, God hath taken 
 them away from the evil to come ? 
 
 It is God's usual way, when some extraordinary 
 calamities are coming upon the world, to hide some 
 of his weak and tender ones out of the way by death : 
 " Merciful men are taken away, none considering 
 that the righteous is taken away from the evil to 
 come." He leaves some, and removes others, but 
 
83 
 
 taketh care for the security of all. He provideth a 
 grave for Methuselah before the flood. The grave 
 is a hiding-place to some, and God sees it better for 
 them to be under ground, than above ground, in such 
 evil days. 
 
 Just as a careful and tender father, who hath a 
 son abroad at school, hearing the plague is broken 
 out in or near the place, sends his horse presently 
 to fetch home his son, before the danger and diffi- 
 culty be greater. Death is our Father's pale horse, 
 which he sends to fetch home his tender children, and 
 carry them out of harm's way. 
 
 Surely, when national calamities are drawing on, it 
 is far better for our friends to be in the grave in 
 peace, than exposed to the miseries and distresses 
 that are here, which is the meaning of Jeremiah — 
 " Weep not for the dead, neither bemoan him : but 
 weep for him that goeth away ; for he shall return 
 no more, nor see his native country." 
 
 And is there not a dreadful sound of troubles now 
 in our ears ? Do not the clouds gather blackness ? 
 Surely all things round about us seem to be prepar- 
 ing and disposing themselves for affliction. The 
 days may be nigh in which you shall say, " Blessed 
 is the womb that never bare, and the paps that never 
 gave suck." 
 
 It was in the day wherein the faith and patience 
 of the saints were exercised, that John heard a voice 
 from heaven saying to him, " Write, Blessed are the 
 dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth." 
 
 Thy friend, by an act of favour, is disbanded by 
 death, whilst thou thyself art left to endure a great 
 fight of affliction. And now, if troubles come, thy 
 
84 
 
 cares and fears will be so much the less, and thy own 
 death so much the easier to thee, when so much of 
 thee is in heaven already. In this case the Lord, 
 by a merciful dispensation, is providing both for 
 their safety, and thy own easier passage to them. 
 
 In removing thy friends beforehand, he seems to 
 say to thee, as he did to Peter, " What I do thou 
 knowest not now, but hereafter thou shalt know it." 
 The eye of Providence hath a prospect far beyond 
 thine ; it would be, in probability, a harder task for 
 thee to leave them behind, than to follow them. 
 
 A tree that is deeply rooted in the earth, requires 
 many strokes to fell it ; but when its roots are loos- 
 ened beforehand, then an easy stroke lays it down 
 upon the earth, 
 
 Considei^ation 6. A parting time must needs come, 
 and why is not this as good as another? 
 
 You know beforehand, your child or friend was 
 mortal, and that the thread that linketh you together 
 must be cut. " If any one," saith Basil, " had asked 
 you, when your child was born. What is that which 
 is born ? what would you have answered. Would you 
 not have said. It is a man ? And if a man, then a 
 mortal vanishing thing. And why, then, are you 
 surprised with wonder to see a dying thing dead ?" 
 
 " He," saith Seneca, " who complains that one is 
 dead, complains that he was a man." All men are 
 under the same condition : to whose share it falls to 
 be born, to him it remains to die. 
 
 We are indeed distinguished by the intervals, 
 but equalized in the issue : " It is appointed to all 
 men once to die." There is a statute law of heaven 
 in the case. 
 
85 
 
 Possibly you think this is the worst time for part- 
 ing that could be ; had you enjoyed it longer, you 
 could have parted easier : but how are you deceived 
 in tliat ! The longer you had enjoyed it, the more 
 loath still you would have been to leave it; the 
 deeper it would have rooted itself in your affection. 
 
 Had God given you such a privilege as was once 
 granted to the English Parliament — that the union 
 betwixt you and your friend should not be dissolved, 
 till you yourself were willing it should be dissolved — 
 when, think you, would you have been willing it 
 should be dissolved ? 
 
 It is well for us and ours that our times are in 
 God's hand, and not in our own. And how imma- 
 ture soever it seemed to be when it was cut down, 
 yet it " came to the grave in a full age, as a shock of 
 corn in its season." They that are in Christ, and 
 in the covenant, never die unseasonably : " When- 
 soever they die," saith one upon the text, " they 
 die in a good old age ; yea, though they die in 
 the spring and flower of youth, they die in a good 
 old age ; that is, they are ripe for death whenever 
 they die. Whenever the godly die, it is harvest 
 time with him : though in a natural capacity, he be 
 cut down while he is green, and cropped in the bud 
 or blossom ; yet, in his spiritual capacity, he never 
 dies before he is ripe. God can ripen his speedily ; 
 he can let out such warm rays and beams of his Spirit 
 upon them, as shall soon maturate the seeds of grace 
 into a preparedness for glory." 
 
 It was doubtless the most fit and seasonable time 
 for them that ever they could die : and as it is a fit 
 time for them, so for you also. Had it lived longer. 
 
86 
 
 it might cither have engaged you more, and so your 
 parting would have been harder ; or else have puzzled 
 and stumbled you more, by discovering its natural 
 corruption ; and then what a stinging aggravation of 
 your sorrow would that have been ! 
 
 Surely the Lord of time is the best judge of time ; 
 and in nothing do we more discover our folly and 
 rashness, than in presuming to fix the times either of 
 our comforts or troubles. As for our comforts, we 
 never think they can come too soon ; we would have 
 them presently, whether the season be fit or not : 
 " Heal her now, Lord." O let it be done speedily ! 
 we are in post haste for our comforts : and for our af- 
 flictions, we never think they come late enough : Not 
 at this time. Lord, rather at any other time than now. 
 
 But it is ffood to leave the timino; both of the one 
 and the other to Him, whose works are all beautiful 
 in their seasons, and never doth any thing in an im- 
 proper time. 
 
 Consideration 7. Call to mind, in this day of 
 trouble, the covenant you have made with God, and 
 what you solemnly promised him in the day you took 
 him for your God. 
 
 It will be very seasonable and useful for thee. 
 Christian, at this time, to reflect upon these transac- 
 tions, and the frame of thy heart in those days, when 
 a heavier load of sorrow pressed thy heart than thou 
 now feelest. 
 
 In those your spiritual distresses, when the bur- 
 den of sin lay heavy, the curse of the law, the fear 
 of hell, the dread of death and eternity, beset thee 
 on every side, and shut thee up to Christ, the only 
 door of hope — ah ! what good news wouldst thou then 
 
87 
 
 have accounted it, to escape that danger, with the 
 loss of all earthly comforts ! 
 
 Was not this thy cry in those days, — ' Lord, 
 give me Christ, and deny me whatever else thou 
 pleascst. Pardon my sin, save my soul ; and, in 
 order to both, unite me with Christ, and I will never 
 repine or open my mouth. Do what thou wilt with 
 me : let me be friendless, let me be childless, let me 
 be poor, let me be any thing rather than a Christless, 
 graceless, hopeless soul/ 
 
 And when the Lord hearkened to thy cry, and 
 showed thee mercy ; when he drew thee off from the 
 world into thy closet, and there treated with thee in 
 secret ; when he was working up thy heart to the 
 terms of his covenant, and made thee wiUing to accept 
 Christ upon his own terms — O then, how heartily 
 didst thou submit to his yoke, as most reasonable and 
 easy at that time it seemed to thee ! 
 
 Call to mind these days, the secret places where 
 Christ and you made the bargain. Have not these 
 words, or words to this sense, been whispered by thee 
 into his ears with a dropping eye, and melting heart? — 
 
 ' Lord Jesus, here am I, a poor guilty sinner, 
 deeply laden with sin, fear, and trouble, upon one 
 hand ; and there is a just God, a severe law, and 
 everlasting burning, upon the other hand, — but 
 blessed be God, O blessed be God for Jesus the 
 Mediator, who intcrposeth betwixt me and it ! Thou 
 art the only door of hope at which I can escape ; thy 
 blood, the only means of my pardon and salvation. 
 Thou hast said, " Come unto me, all ye that labour 
 and are heavy laden." Thou hast promised, that he 
 that cometh to thee shall in nowise be cast out. 
 
88 
 
 ' Blessed Jesus, thy poor creature cometh to thee 
 upon these encouragements. I come : O but it is 
 with many staggerings, with many doubts and fears 
 of the issue ! yet I am wilUng to come and make a 
 covenant with thee this day. 
 
 ' 1 take thee this day to be my Lord, and submit 
 heartily to all thy disposals : do what thou w41t with 
 me, or with mine ; let me be rich or poor, any thing 
 or nothing, in this world. I am wilUng to be as 
 thou wouldst have me. And I do likewise mve 
 
 o 
 
 myself to thee this day, to be thine : all I am, all I 
 have, shall be thine ; thine to serve thee, and thine 
 to be disposed at thy pleasure. Thou shalt hence- 
 forth be my highest Lord, my chiefest good, my last 
 end.' 
 
 Now, Christian, make good to Christ what thou 
 so solemnly promised him. He, I say, he hath dis- 
 posed of this thy dear relation as pleased him ; and 
 is thereby trying thy uprightness in the covenant 
 which thou madest with him : now, where is the 
 satisfaction and content thou promised to take in all 
 his disposals ? Where is that covenanted submis- 
 sion to his will ? Didst thou expect this affliction 
 that is come upon thee ? Didst thou tell him. Lord, 
 I will be content thou shalt, when thou pleasest, take 
 any thing I have, save only this husband, this wife, 
 or this dear child : I reserved this out of the bargain ; 
 I shall never endure that thou shouldst kill this 
 comfort ? If so, thou didst in all this but prove thy- 
 self a hypocrite : if thou wast sincere in thy cove- 
 nant, as Christ had no reserves on his part, so thou 
 hadst none on thine. 
 
 It was all, without any exception, thou then 
 
89 
 
 resignedst to him ; and now, wilt thou go back from 
 thy word, as one that had out-promised himself, and 
 repents the bargain ? or, at least as one that hath 
 forgotten these solemn transactions in the days of thy 
 distress ? Wherein hath Christ failed in one tittle 
 that he promised thee ? Charge him, if thou canst, 
 with the least unfaithfulness : he hath been faithful 
 to a tittle, on his part, O be thou so upon thine ! 
 This day it is put to the proof; remember what thou 
 hast promised him. 
 
 Consideration 8. But if thy covenant with God 
 will not quiet thee, yet methinks God's covenant with 
 thee might be presumed to do it. 
 
 Is thy family, which was lately hopeful and flour- 
 ishing, a peaceful tabernacle, now broken up and 
 scattered — thy posterity, from which thou raisest up 
 to thyself great expectations of comfort in old age, 
 cut off, — so that thou art now like neither to have a 
 name nor memorial left thee in the earth ? 
 
 Dost thou sit alone, and mourn, to think whitherto 
 thy hopes and comforts are now come ? 
 
 Dost thou read over these words of Job, chap. 
 xxix. 1 — 5. and comment upon them with many 
 tears ? " Oh that I were as in months past, as in the 
 days when God preserved me ; when his candle 
 shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked 
 through darkness ; as I was in the days of my youth, 
 when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle ; 
 when the Almighty was yet with me, when my chil- 
 dren were about me !" 
 
 Yet let the covenant God hath made with thee, 
 comfort thee in this thy desolate condition. 
 
 You know what domestic troubles holy David met 
 
90 
 
 with in a sad succession, not only from the death of 
 children, but, which was much worse, from the 
 wicked lives of his children. There was incest, 
 murder, and rebellion in his family — a far sorer trial 
 than death in their infancy could have been ; and yet 
 see how sweetly he relieves himself from the cove- 
 nant of grace : " Although my house be not so with 
 God, yet hath he made with me an everlasting 
 covenant, ordered in all things and sure : for this is 
 all my salvation, and all my desire, although he make 
 it not to grow." 
 
 I know this place principally refers to Christ, who 
 was to spring out of David's family, according to 
 God's covenant made with him in that behalf. And 
 yet I doubt not but it hath another, though less 
 principal aspect upon his own family ; over all the 
 afflictions and troubles whereof, the covenant of God 
 with him did abundantly comfort him. 
 
 And as it comforted him, although his house did 
 not increase, and those that were left were not such 
 as he desired — so it may abundantly comfort you also, 
 whatever troubles or deaths be upon your families, 
 who have an interest in the covenant. For, 
 
 1. If you be God's covenant people, though he 
 may afflict, yet he will never forget you : " He is 
 ever mindful of his covenant." You are as much 
 upon his heart in your deepest afflictions, as in the 
 greatest flourish of your prosperity. 
 
 You find it hard to forget your child, though it 
 be now turned to a heap of corruption, and loath- 
 some rottenness. O how doth your mind run upon 
 it night and day ! your thoughts tire not upon that 
 •ubject. Why, surely it is much more easy for you 
 
91 
 
 to forget your child, whilst living and most endearing, 
 (much more when dead and undesirable,) than it if 
 for your God to forget you. " Can a woman forget 
 her sucking child, that she should not have compas- 
 sion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they may for- 
 get, yet will I not forget thee :" Isa. xlix. 15. 
 
 " Can a woman," the more affectionate sex, " for- 
 get her sucking child," her own child, and not a 
 nursing child; her own child, whilst it hangs on the 
 breast, and, together with the milk from the breast, 
 draws love from its mother's heart ; can such a thing 
 as this be in nature ? Possibly it may ; for creature- 
 love is fickle and variable : but " I will not forget 
 thee ;" it is an everlasting covenant. 
 
 . 2. As he will never forget you in your troubles, 
 so he will order all your troubles for your good : it is 
 a well-ordered covenant, or a covenant orderly dis- 
 posed ; so that every thing shall work together for 
 your good. 
 
 The covenant so orders all your trials, ranks and 
 disposes your various troubles so, as they shall in 
 their orders and places sweetly co-operate, and join 
 their united influences to make you happy. 
 
 Possibly you cannot see how the present affliction 
 should be for your good : you are ready to say with 
 Jacob, " Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye 
 will take Benjamin away. All these things are 
 against me." But could you once see how sweetly 
 and orderly all these afflictions work, under the bless- 
 ing and influence of the covenant, to your eternal 
 good, you would not only be quiet, but thankful for 
 that which now so much afflicts and troubles you. 
 
 3. This covenant is not only well-ordered in all 
 
92 
 
 things, but sure : the mercies contained in it, are 
 called " the sure mercies of David." Now, how 
 sweet, how seasonable a support, doth this considera- 
 tion give to God's afflicted under the rod ! You 
 lately made yourself sure of that creature- comfort 
 which hath forsaken you. It may be you said of 
 your child which is now gone, as Lamech said of his 
 son Noah — " This same shall comfort us concerning 
 our work, and toil of our hands." Meaning that his 
 son should not only comfort them, by assisting them 
 in the works of their hands, but for enjoying the 
 fruit of their toil and pains for him. 
 
 Probably such thoughts you have had, and raised 
 up to yourselves great expectations of comforts in 
 your old age from it : but now you see you build 
 upon the sand : and where were you now, if you had 
 not a firmer bottom to build upon ? But, blessed 
 be God, the covenant-mercies are more sure and so- 
 lid : God, Christ, and heaven, never start or fade as 
 these thinfjs do. 
 
 The sweetest creature-enjoyments you ever had, 
 or have in this world, cannot say to you, as your God 
 doth, " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." 
 You must part with your dear husband, how well 
 soever you love them ; you must bid adieu to the wife 
 of your bosom, how nearly soever your affections be 
 linked, and heart delighted in her. Your children 
 and you must be separated, though they be to you 
 as your own soul. 
 
 But though these vanish away, blessed be God 
 there is something that abides. Though " all flesh 
 be as grass, and all the goodliness of it as the flower 
 of the field — though the grass withereth, and the 
 
93 
 
 flower thereof fadeth, because the Spirit of the Lord 
 bloweth upon it — yet the word of our God shall stand 
 for ever." There is so much of support contained 
 in this one consideration, that, could but your faith 
 fix here, to realize, and apply it, I might lay down 
 my pen at this period, and say. The work is done, 
 there needs no more. 
 
 Consideration 9. The hope of the resurrection 
 should powerfully restrain all excesses of sorrow in 
 those that do profess it. 
 
 Let them only mourn without measure, who mourn 
 without hope. The husbandman doth not mourn 
 when he casts his seed-corn into the earth, because 
 he sows in hope — commits it to the ground with an 
 expectation to receive it again with improvement. 
 Why, thus stands the case here, and just so the 
 apostle states it — " But I would not have you to be 
 ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, 
 that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope. 
 For if we believe that Jesus died, and rose again, 
 even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God 
 bring with him." 
 
 As if he should say, Look not upon the dead as 
 a lost generation : think not that death hath annihi- 
 lated and utterly destroyed them. O no ! they are 
 not dead, but only asleep ; and if they sleep, they 
 shall awake again. You do not use to make outcries 
 and lamentations for your children and friends, when 
 you find them asleep upon their beds. Why, death 
 is but a longer sleep, out of which they shall as surely 
 awake as ever they did in the morning in this world. 
 
 I have often wondered at that golden sentence in 
 Seneca — " My thoughts of the dead," saith he, 
 
94. 
 
 " are not as others are : I have fiiir and pleasant 
 apprehensions of them ; for I enjoyed them as one 
 that reckoned I must part with them; and I part 
 with them as one that makes account to have them.'* 
 
 He speaks, no doubt, of that enjoyment of them, 
 which his pleasant contemplations of their virtuous 
 actions could give him; for he was wholly unac- 
 quainted with the comfortable and heart-supporting 
 doctrine of the resurrection. Had he known the 
 advantages which result from thence, at what a rate 
 may we think he would have spoken of the dead and 
 of their state ? but this you profess to believe, and 
 yet sink at a strange rate. O suffer not Heathenism 
 to outvie Christianity! Let not Pagans challenge 
 the greatest believers, to outdo them in a quiet and 
 cheerful behaviour under afflictions. 
 
 I beseech thee, reader, if thy deceased friend have 
 left thee any solid ground of hope that he died in- 
 terested in Christ and the covenant, that thou wilt 
 directly ponder these admirable supports which the 
 doctrine of the resurrection affords : — 
 
 1. That the same body which was so pleasant a 
 spectacle to thee, shall be restored again ; yea, the 
 same numerically^ as well as the same specifically : 
 so that it shall not only be wliat it was, but the who 
 it was. " These eyes shall behold him, and not an- 
 other." The very same body you laid, or are now 
 about to lay in the grave, shall be restored again : 
 thou shall find thy own husband, wife, or child, or 
 friend again : I say, the self-same, and not another. 
 
 2. And farther, this is supporting, that as you 
 shall see the same person that was so dear to you, so 
 you shall know tlrcm to be the same that were once 
 endeared to you on earth in so near a tie of relation. 
 
95 
 
 Indeed you shall know them no more in any carnal 
 relation ; death dissolved that bond : but you shall 
 know them to be such, as once were your dear rela- 
 tions in this world; and be able to single them out 
 among that great multitude, and say, This was my 
 father, motlier, husband, wife, or child : this was the 
 person for whom I made supplication, who was an 
 instrument of good to me, or to whose salvation God 
 then made me instrumental. 
 
 For we may allow in that state all that knowledge 
 which is cumulative and perfective, whatsoever may 
 enlarge and heighten our felicity and satisfaction, as 
 this must needs be allowed to do. Luther's judg- 
 ment in this point being asked by his friends at sup- 
 per, the evening before he died, replied thus — 
 " What," said he, " befell Adam? He never saw 
 Eve, but was in a deep sleep when God formed her; 
 yet, when he awaked and saw her, he asked not, 
 what she was, nor whence she came? But saith, 
 ' She was flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone.' 
 Now, how knew he that? He being full of the 
 Holy Ghost, and endued with the knowledge of God, 
 spake thus." After the same manner, we also shall 
 be in the other life renewed by Christ, and shall 
 know our parents, our wives, and children. 
 
 And this, among other things, was that with which 
 Augustine comforted the lady Italica, after the death 
 of her husband, telling her, " That she should know 
 him in the world to come, among the glorified saints." 
 Yea, and a greater than either of these, I mean Paul, 
 comforted himself, that the Thessalonians, whom he 
 had converted to Christ, " should be his joy and 
 crown of rejoicing in the presence of the Lord Jesus 
 
96 
 
 Christ at his coming." Which must needs imply 
 his distinct knowledge of them in that day, which 
 must be many hundred years after death had sepa- 
 rated them from each other. Whether this know- 
 ledge shall be by the glorified eyes discerning any 
 lineaments or property of individuality remaining 
 upon the glorified bodies of our relations, or whether 
 it shall be by immediate revelation, as Adam knew 
 his wife, or as Peter, James, and John, knew Moses 
 and Elias in the mount, — as it is difficult to deter- 
 mine, so it is needless to puzzle ourselves about it. 
 
 It is the concurrent judgment of sound divines, 
 and it wants not countenance from Scripture and 
 reason, that such a knowledge of them shall be hi 
 heaven : and then the sadness of this parting will be 
 abundantly recompensed by the joy of that meeting. 
 Especially considering, 
 
 3. That at our next meeting they shall be unspeak- 
 ably more desirable, sweet and excellent, than ever 
 they were in this world. They had a desirableness 
 in them here, but they were not altogether lovely, 
 and in every respect desirable : they had their infir- 
 mities, both natural and moral ; but all these are re- 
 moved in heaven, and for ever done away : no natural 
 infirmities hang about glorified bodies ; nor sinful 
 ones upon perfect spirits of the just. O what lovely 
 creatures will they appear to you then, " when that 
 which is sown now in dishonour, shall be raised in 
 honour !" And then, to crown all, 
 
 4. You shall have an everlasting enjoyment of 
 them in heaven, never to part again. The children 
 of the resurrection can die no more. You shall kiss 
 their pale lips and cold cheeks no more : you shall 
 
97 
 
 never fear another parting pull, but be together with 
 the Lord for ever. And this the apostle thought an 
 effectual cordial in this case, when he exhorted the 
 Thessalonians to " comfort one another with these 
 words." 
 
 Consideration 10. The present felicity into which 
 all that die in Christ are presently admitted, should 
 abundantly comfort Christians over the death of such, 
 as either carried a lively hope out of the world with 
 them, or have left good grounds of such a hope be- 
 hind them. 
 
 Some there are that carried a lively hope to heaven 
 with them, who could evidence to themselves and 
 friends their interest in Christ and in the covenant. 
 Yea, though they had died in silence, yet their con- 
 versations would speak for them, and the tenor of 
 their lives leaves no ground of doubting, touching 
 their death. Others dying in their infancy or youth, 
 though they carried not such an actual hope with 
 them, yet they have left grounds of hope behind them. 
 
 Parents, now ponder these grounds: you have 
 prayed for them, you have many times wrestled with 
 the Lord on their behalf: you have taken hold of 
 God's covenant for them, as well as for yourselves, 
 and dedicated them to the Lord: and they have not, 
 by any actions of theirs, destroyed those grounds of 
 your hope, but that you may with much probability 
 conclude they are with God. 
 
 Why, if the case be so, what abundant reason 
 
 have you to be quiet and well satisfied with what 
 
 God hath done ! Can they be better than where 
 
 they are ? Had you better provisions and enter- 
 
 E 12 
 
98 
 
 tainments £01* them here, than their heavenly Father 
 hath above ? 
 
 There is no Christian parent in the world, but 
 would rejoice to see his child outstrip and get before 
 him in grace, that he may be more eminent in parts 
 and service than ever he was ; and what reason can 
 be given why we should not as much rejoice to see 
 our children get before us in glory as in grace? 
 They are gone to heaven a few years before you, 
 and is that matter of mourning ? Would not your 
 child (if he were not ignorant of you) say, as Christ 
 did to his friends a little before his death, when he 
 saw them cast down at the thoughts of parting — " If 
 ve loved me, ye would rejoice, because I go unto the 
 Father ?'' As if he should say. Do you value your 
 own sensible comforts from my bodily presence with 
 you, before my glory and advancement in heaven ? 
 Is this love to me ? Or is it not rather self-love ? 
 
 80 would your departed friend say to you — ' You 
 have professed much love all along to me, my happi- 
 ness seemed to be very dear to you : how comes it 
 to pass, then, that you mourn so exceedingly now ? 
 This is rather the effect of a fond and fleshly, than 
 of rational and spiritual love : if ye loved me with a 
 pure spiritual love, ye would rejoice that I am gone 
 to my Father. It is infinitely better for me to be 
 here, tlian with you on earth, under sin and sorrow : 
 weep not for me, but for yourselves.' 
 
 Alas ! though you want your friend's company, he 
 wants not yours : your care was to provide for this 
 child, but Jesus Christ hath provided infinitely better 
 for it than you could : you intended an estate, but 
 he a kingdom for it: you thought upon such or such 
 
99 
 
 a match, but Christ hath forbid all others, and married 
 your diild to himself. Would you imagine a higher 
 preferment for the fruit of your bodies ? 
 
 A King from heaven hath sent for your friend, 
 and do you grudge at the journey ? O think, and 
 think again, what an honour it is to you, that Christ 
 hath taken them out of your bosom, and laid them 
 in his own ; stripped them out of those garments you 
 have provided, and clothed them in white robes, 
 washed in the blood of the Lamb ! Let not your 
 hearts be troubled ; rather rejoice exceedingly, that 
 God made you instruments to replenish heaven, and 
 bring forth an heir for the kingdom of God. 
 
 Your child is now glorifying God in a hi^rher way 
 than you can : and what though you have lost his 
 bodily presence for a time ? Yet I hope you do not 
 reckon that to be your loss, which turns to God's 
 greater glory. 
 
 When Jacob heard his Joseph was lord of Egypt, 
 he rather wished himself with Joseph, than his Jo- 
 seph with him, in wants and straits. So should it 
 be with you. You are yet rolling and tossing upon 
 a tempestuous sea; but your friend is gone into the 
 quiet harbour : desire rather to be there, tlian that 
 he were again at sea with you. 
 
 Consideration IL Consider how vain a thin^r all 
 your troubles and self-vexation is : it no way betters 
 your case, nor eases your burden. 
 
 As a bullock, by w^rcsthng and sweating in the 
 furrow, makes his yoke to be more heavy, and galls 
 his neck, and spends his strength the sooner, and 
 no way helps himself by that ; why, thus stands the 
 case with thee, if thou be as a bullock unaccustomed to 
 E 2 
 
100 
 
 the yoke. What Christ saith of caring, we may 
 say of f/rievinr/ — " Which of you, by taking thought, 
 can add one cubit to his stature ?" 
 
 Cares may break our sleep, yea, break our hearts ; 
 but they cannot add to our stature, either in a na- 
 tural or in a civil notion : so your sorrowing may 
 sooner break your hearts, than the yoke God hath 
 laid on you. 
 
 Alas ! what is all this, but as the fluttering of a 
 bird in the net, which, instead of freeing, doth but 
 the more entangle itself? It was therefore a wise 
 resolution of David, in this very case, when the will 
 of God was signified in the death of his child — " But 
 now he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can I 
 bring him back again ? I shall go to him, but he 
 shall not return to me." 
 
 Can I bring him back again ? No, I can no 
 more alter the work and purpose of God, than I can 
 change the seasons of the year, or alter the course 
 of the sun, moon, and stars, or disturb the order of 
 the day and night : which are all unalterably estab- 
 lished by a firm constitution and ordinance of heaven. 
 
 As these seasons cannot be changed by men, so 
 neither can this course and way of his providences be 
 changed : " He is of one mind, and who can turn 
 him ?'* And what his soul desireth, even that he 
 doth. Indeed, while his pleasure and purpose are 
 unknown to us, there is room for fasthig and prayer 
 to prevent the thing we fear ; but when the purpose 
 of God is manifested in the issue, and the stroke is 
 given, then it is the vainest thing in the world to 
 fret and vex ourselves, as David's servants thought 
 he would do, as soon as he should hear the child 
 
101 
 
 was dead : but he was wiser than do so ; his tears 
 and cries to God before, had the nature and use of 
 the means to prevent the affliction ; but when it was 
 come, and could not be prevented, then they were 
 of no use, to no purpose in the worhl. " Where- 
 fore should I fast ?" as if he should have said. To 
 what end, use, or purpose will it be now ? 
 
 Well, then, cast not away your strength and 
 spirits to no advantage ; reserve them for future ex- 
 ercises and trials. Time may come that you may 
 need all the strength you have, and much more, to 
 support greater burdens than this. 
 
 Consideration 12. The Lord is able to restore all 
 your lost comforts in relations, double to you, if you 
 meekly submit to him, and patiently wait upon him 
 under the rod. 
 
 When Esau had lost his blessing, he said, " Hast 
 thou but one blessing, my father ?" But your Fa- 
 ther hath more blessings for you than one ; his name 
 is, " The Father of Mercies.'* He can beget and 
 create as many mercies for you as he pleaseth : rela- 
 tions, and the comforts of them, are at his command. 
 
 It is but a few months or years past, and these 
 comforts, whose loss you now lament, were not in 
 being ; nor did you know whence they should arise 
 to you ; yet the Lord gave the word, and commanded 
 them for you : and if he please, he can make the 
 death of these but like a scythe to the meadow that 
 is mown down, or a razor to the head that is shaved 
 bare ; which, tliough it lay you under the present 
 trouble and reproach of barrenness, yet doth but 
 make way for a double increase, a second spring with 
 advantage. 
 
102 
 
 So that, as it was with the captive church in 
 respect of her special children in the days of her cap- 
 tivity and reproach, the Lord made up all with ad- 
 vantages to her — even to her own astonishment : 
 " The children which thou shalt have, after thou 
 hast lost the other, shall say again in thy ears, The 
 place is too strait for me, give place for me that I 
 may dwell." 
 
 Thus may he deal with you as to your natural 
 children and relations. So that what the man of 
 God said to Amaziah, may be applied to the case in 
 hand : " Amaziah said to the man of God, But what 
 shall we do for the hundred talents ? And the man 
 of God answered. The Lord is able to give thee 
 much more than this," 
 
 O say not. What shall I do for friends and rela- 
 tions ? Death hath robbed me of all my comfort in 
 them. Why, the Lord is able to give you much 
 more. But then, as ever you expect to see your 
 future blessings multiplied, look to it, and be careful 
 that you neither dishonour God, nor grieve him by 
 your unsubmissive and impatient carriage under the 
 present rod. 
 
 God took away all Job's children, and that at one 
 stroke, and the stroke immediate and extraordinary : 
 and that when they were grown up, and planted (at 
 least some of them) in distinct families ; yea, whilst 
 they were endearing each other by the mutual ex- 
 pressions of affection. This must be yielded to be 
 an extraordinary trial ; yet he meekly receives, and 
 patiently bears it from the hand of the Lord. 
 
 " You have heard of the patience of Job," saith 
 the apostle James, *' and seen the end of the Lord." 
 
103 
 
 Not only the gracious end or intention of the Lord 
 in all his afflictions, but the happy end and issue the 
 Lord gave to all his afflictions, of which you have the 
 account — " The Lord gave Job twice as much as he 
 had before." The number of his children was not 
 double to what he had, as all his other comforts were ; 
 but though the Lord only restored the same number 
 to him again that he took away, yet it is probable, 
 the comfort he had in these latter children was double 
 to what he had in the former. There is nothincf 
 lost by waiting patiently and submitting willingly to 
 the Lord's disposal. 
 
 It is as easy with the Lord to revive, as it is to re- 
 move, your comforts in relations. There is a sweet 
 expression to this purpose in Psalm xviii. 28. " For 
 thou. Lord, wilt light my candle ; the Lord my God 
 will enlighten my darkness." 
 
 Every comfortable enjoyment, whether it be in 
 relations, estate, health, or friends, is a candle liohted 
 by Providence, for our comfort in this world; and 
 they are but candles, which will not always last, and 
 those that last longest, will be consumed and wasted 
 at last : but oftentimes it falls out with them as with 
 candles, they are blown out before they are half 
 consumed; yea, almost as soon as lighted up, and 
 then we are in darkness for the present. 
 
 It is a dark hour with us when these comforts are 
 put out : but David's faith did, and ours may, com- 
 fort us with this, that he that blew out the candle 
 can light up another : " Thou, Lord, shalt light my 
 candle ; the Lord my God shall enlighten my dark- 
 ness;" that is, the Lord will renew my comforts, 
 after the present sad estate I am in, and chase away 
 
104 
 
 that trouble and darkness which at present lies upon 
 me. Only beware of offending him, at whose will 
 your lights and comforts come and go. Michal dis- 
 pleased the Lord, and therefore " had no child unto 
 the day of her death." 
 
 Hannah humbly waited upon the Lord for the 
 blessing of children, and the Lord remembered her 
 — lie enlightened her condition with that comfort 
 when she was as a lamp despised. There is no 
 comfort you have lost, but God can restore it ; yea, 
 double it in kind, if he seeth it convenient for you. 
 And if not, then. 
 
 Consideration 13. Consider, though he should 
 deny you any more comforts of that kind, yet he hath 
 far better to bestow upon you, with which such as 
 these deserve not to be named. 
 
 You have an excellent scripture to this purpose : 
 " For thus saith the Lord unto the eunuchs that 
 keep my sabbaths, and choose the things that please 
 me, and take hold of my covenant ; even to them 
 will I give in my house, and within my walls, a place 
 and a name better than of sons and of daughters : I 
 will give them an everlasting name, that shall not be 
 cut off." 
 
 Men's names are said to be continued in their 
 issue, in their male issue especially, and consequently 
 to fail in such as wanted issue : and a numerous 
 issue is deemed no small honour. God, tlierefore, 
 promised here to supply and make good the want of 
 issue, and whatsoever, either honour here, or memo- 
 rial hereafter, might from it have accrued to them, 
 by bestowing upon them matter of far greater honour, 
 and more durable : a name better, or before the name 
 of sons or daughters. 
 
105 
 
 It is a greater honour to be the child of God, than 
 to have the jr^eatest honour or comfort that ever 
 children afforded their parents in this world. 
 
 Poor heart ! thou art now dejected by this afflic- 
 tion that lies upon thee, as if all joy and comfort 
 were now cut off from thee in this world. 
 
 A cloud dwells upon all other comforts : this afflic- 
 tion hath so imbittered thy soul, that thou tastest no 
 more in any other earthly comforts than in the white 
 of an crrcr. Q that thou didst but consider the con- 
 solations that are with God for such as answer his 
 ends in affliction, and patiently wait on him for their 
 comfort ! He hath comforts for you far transcending 
 the joy of children. 
 
 This some have found when their children have 
 been cut off from them, and that in so eminent a 
 degree, that they have little valued their comfort in 
 children in comparison with this comfort. 
 
 I will therefore set down a pregnant instance of 
 the point in hand, as I find it recorded by the grave 
 and worthy author of that excellent book, entitled, 
 " The FulfiUing of the Scripture :" — 
 
 " Another notable instance of grace, with a very 
 remarkable passage in his condition, I shall here 
 mention. One Patrick Mackewrath, who lived in the 
 west parts of Scotland, whose heart in a remarkable 
 way the Lord touched, and after his conversion (as 
 he showed to many Christian friends) was in such a 
 frame so affected with a new world, wherein he was 
 entered, the discoveries of God, and of a life to come, 
 that for some months together he did seldom sleep, 
 but was still taken up in wondering. His life was 
 very remarkable for tenderness and near converse 
 £ 3 
 
106 
 
 with God in his walk ; and, which was worthy to be 
 noticed, one day after a sharp trial, having his only 
 son suddenly taken away by death, he retired alone 
 for several hours, and when he came forth did look 
 so cheerfully, that to those who asked him the reason 
 thereof, and wondered at the same in such a time, 
 he told them he had got that in his retirement with 
 the Lord, that to have it afterward renewed, he would 
 be content to lose a son every day." 
 
 what a sweet exchange had he made ! Surely 
 he had gold for brass, a pearl for a pebble, a treasure 
 for a trifle : for so great, yea, and far greater is the 
 disproportion betwixt the sweet light of God's coun- 
 tenance, and the faint, dim light of the best creature- 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Would it please the Lord to make this sun arise 
 and shine upon you, now when the stars that shined 
 with a dim and borrowed light are gone down, you 
 would see such gain by the exchange, as would 
 quickly make you cast in your votes with him we 
 now mentioned, and say, Lord, let every day be such 
 as this funeral day ; let my hours be as this, so that 
 I may see and taste what I now do. How gladly 
 would I part with the dearest and nearest creature- 
 comfort I own in this world ! 
 
 The gracious and tender Lord hath his divine 
 cordial reserved on purpose for such sad hours : these 
 are sometimes given before some sharp trial, to pre- 
 pare for it, and sometimes after, to support under it. 
 
 1 have often heard it from the mouth, and found 
 it in the diary, of a sweet Christian, now with God, 
 that a little before the Lord removed her dear hus- 
 band by death, there was such an abundant out-let 
 
107 
 
 of the love of God unto her soul, for several days 
 and nights following, that when the Lord took away 
 her husband by death, though he were a gracious 
 and sweet-tempered, and by her, most tenderly- 
 beloved husband, she was scarce sensible of the 
 stroke, but carried quite above all earthly things, 
 their comforts and their troubles ; so that she had 
 almost lost the thought of her dear husband in God. 
 
 o 
 
 And had not the Lord taken this course with her, 
 she concluded that blow had not been possible to be 
 borne by her, she must have sunk without such a 
 preparative. 
 
 A husband, a wife, a child, are great, very great 
 things, as they stand by other creatures; but surely 
 they will seem little things, and next to nothing, 
 when the Lord shall set himself by them before the 
 soul. And how know you, but God hath bid these 
 earthly comforts stand aside this day, to make way 
 for heavenly ones ? It may be, God is coming to 
 communicate himself more sweetly, more sensibly 
 than ever to your souls, and these are the providences 
 which must cast up and prepare the way of the Lord. 
 Possibly God's meaning in their death is but this : 
 Child, stand aside, thou art in my way, and fillest 
 my place in thy parent's heart. 
 
 Consideration 14. Be careful you exceed not in 
 your grief for the loss of eartlily things ; considering 
 that Satan takes the advantage of all extremes. 
 
 'You cannot touch any extreme, but you will be 
 touched by that enemy, whose greatest advantages 
 lie in assaulting you here. 
 
 Satan is called " the ruler of the darkness of this 
 world;" that is, his kingdom is supported by dark- 
 
108 
 
 ncss. Now, there is a twofold darkness, which gives 
 Satan great advantage : the darkness of the mind, 
 to wit, ignorance; and the darkness of the condition, 
 to wit, trouble and affliction. Of the former, the 
 apostle speaks chiefly in that text : but the latter 
 also is by him often improved, to carry on his designs 
 upon us : when it is a dark hour of trouble with us, 
 then it is his fittest season to tempt. 
 
 That cowardly spirit falls upon the people of God 
 when they are down and low in spirit as well as state. 
 Sat.ni would never have desired that the hand of 
 God should have been stretched out upon Job's 
 person, estate, and children ; but he promised him- 
 self a notable advantage, therein to poison his spirit 
 with vile thoughts of God : " Do this," saith he, 
 " and he will curse thee to thy face." 
 
 What the Psalmist observes of natural, is as true 
 of metaphorical darkness : " Thou makest darkness, 
 and it is night, wherein all the beasts of the forest do 
 creep 'forth ; the young lions roar after their prey." 
 
 When it is dark night with men, it is noon-day 
 with Satan ; that is, our suffering time is his busiest 
 working time : many a dismal suggestion he then 
 plants and grafts upon our affliction, which are much 
 more dangerous to us than the affliction itself. 
 
 Sometimes he injects desponding thoughts into 
 the afflicted soul: " Then said I, 1 am cut off from 
 before thine eyes," and " my hope is perished from 
 the Lord, remembering mine affliction and my misery, 
 the wormwood and the ixall." 
 
 Sometimes he suixixests hard thoughts of God : 
 
 o& 
 
 " The Lord hath dealt very bitterly with me." 
 Yea, that he hath dealt more severely with us than 
 
109 
 
 any other : " Sec and behold, if there be any sorrow- 
 like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, where- 
 with the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his 
 fierce anger." 
 
 And sometimes murmuring and repining thoughts 
 against the Lord : the soul is displeased at the hand 
 of God upon it. Jonah was angry at the hand of 
 God, and said, " I do well to be angry, even unto 
 death." What dismal thoughts are these ! And 
 how much more affecting to a gracious soul than the 
 loss of any outward enjoyment in this world ! 
 
 And at times very irreligious and atheistical 
 .thoughts, as if there were no privilege to be had by 
 J.'eligion, and all our pains, zeal, and care about duty, 
 were little better than lost labour. " Verily I have 
 cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in 
 innocency. For all the day long have I been plagued, 
 and chastened every morning." 
 
 By these things Satan gets no small advantage 
 over the afflicted Christian : for albeit these thoughts 
 are his burden, and God will not impute them to the 
 condemnation of his people ; yet they rob the soul of 
 peace, and hinder it from duty, and make it act un- 
 comely under affliction, to the stumbling and harden- 
 ing of others in their sin : beware, therefore, lest by 
 your excesses of sorrow ye give place to the devil; 
 we are not ignorant of his devices. 
 
 Consideration 15. Give no way to excessvie sor- 
 rows upon the account of the affliction, if ye have 
 any regard to the honour of God and rehgion, which 
 will thereby be exposed to reproach. 
 
 If you slight your own honour, do not slight the 
 honour of God and religion too. Take heed how 
 
110 
 
 you carry it in a day of trouble ; many eyes arc upon 
 you. It is a true observation that a late worthy au- 
 thor hath made upon this case : " What will the 
 atheist, and what will the profane scoffer say, when 
 they shall see this ? So sottish and malicious they 
 are, that if they do but see you in affliction, they are 
 straightway scornfully demanding. Where is your 
 God? 
 
 " But what will they say, if they should hear you 
 yourselves unbelievingly cry out, Where is our God ? 
 Will they not be ready to cry. This is the religion 
 they make such boast of: you see how little it does 
 for them in a day of extremity : they talk of promises, 
 rich and precious promises ; but where are they now ? 
 or to what purpose do they serve ? They said they 
 had a treasure in heaven ; what ails them to mourn 
 so then, if their riches be there ?" 
 
 O beware what you do before the world ! they 
 have eyes to see what you can do, as well as ears to 
 hear what you can say. And as long as your car- 
 riage under troubles is so much like their own, they 
 will never think your principles are better than theirs. 
 Carnal worldlings will be drawn to think, that, what- 
 ever fine talk you might have about God and heaven, 
 your hearts were most upon the same things that 
 theirs were, since your grief for their removal is as 
 great as theirs. 
 
 They know by experience what a stay it is to the 
 heart to have an able, faithful friend to depend upon, 
 ov to have hopes of a great estate shortly to fall to 
 them ; and they will never be persuaded you have any 
 such ground of comfort, if they see you as much cast 
 down as they that .pretend to no such matters. 
 
Ill 
 
 By this means, the precepts of Christ to constancy 
 and contentment in all estates, will come to be looked 
 upon (like those of the Stoics) only as brave words, 
 but such as are impossible to be practised ; and the 
 whole of the gospel will be taken for an airy notion, 
 since they that profess greatest regard to it, are no 
 more helped thereby. 
 
 what a shame is it that religion should in this 
 case make no more difference betwixt man and man ! 
 Wherefore, show to the world, (whatever their com- 
 mon censures are, ) that it is not so much your care 
 to differ from them in some opinion, and a little strict- 
 ness, as in humility, contempt of the world, and hea- 
 venly-mindedness : and now let these graces display 
 themselves by your cheerful, patient deportment, 
 under all your grievances. 
 
 Wherefore hath God planted those excellent 
 graces in your soul, but that he might be glorified, 
 and you benefited, by the exercises of them in tribu- 
 lation ? Should these be suppressed and hid, and 
 nothing but the pride, passion, and unmortificd earth- 
 liness of your hearts set on work, and discovered in 
 time of trouble — what a slur, what a wound will you 
 give to the glorious name which is called upon by 
 you ! And then, if your hearts be truly gracious, 
 that will pierce you deeper than ever your affliction 
 which occasioned it did. 
 
 1 beseech you, therefore, be tender of the name 
 of God, if you will not be so of your own peace and 
 comfort. 
 
 Consideration 16. Be quiet, and hold your peace; 
 you little know how many mercies lie in the womb of 
 this affliction. 
 
112 
 
 Great at times are tlie benefits of a sharp rousing 
 affliction to the people of God : and all might have 
 them at all times, were they more careful to improve 
 them. Holy David thankfully acknowlcdgeth, " R 
 is good for me that I have been afflicted." 
 
 And surely there is as much good in them for you 
 as for him, if the Lord sanctify them to such ends 
 and uses as his were sanctified unto. 
 
 Such a smarting rod as this came not before there 
 was need enough of it, and possibly you saw the need 
 of some awakening providence yourselves ; but if not, 
 the Lord did : he took not up the rod to smite you, 
 till his faithfulness and tender love to your souls called 
 upon him to correct you. 
 
 You now sit pensive under the rod, sadly lament- 
 ing and deploring the loss of some earthly comfort ; 
 your heart is surcharged with sorrow, your eyes run 
 down upon every mention and remembrance of your 
 dear friend. Why, if there were no more, this alone 
 may discover the need you have of this rod; for doth 
 not ail this sorrow at parting plainly speak how much 
 your heart was set upon, how fast your heart was 
 glued to this earthly comfort? 
 
 Now you see that your afflictions were sunk many 
 degrees deeper into the creature than you are aware 
 of. And what should God do in this case by you ? 
 Should he suffer you to cleave to the creature more 
 and more ? Should he permit it to purloin and ex- 
 haust your love and delight, and steal away your heart 
 from himself? This he could not do and love you. 
 The more impatient you are under this affliction, the 
 more need you had of it. 
 
 And what if by this stroke the Lord will awaken 
 
113 
 
 your drowsy soul, and recover you out of that plea- 
 sant but dangerous spiritual slumber, into wliich you 
 were fallen, whilst you had pillowed your head upon 
 this pleasant, sensible creature-enjoyment ? Is not 
 this really better for you, than if he should say, ' Sleep 
 on : he is joined to idols, let him alone : he is de- 
 parting from me, the fountain, to a broken cistern ; let 
 him go ?' 
 
 Yea, what if by this stroke upon one of the plea- 
 santest things you had in the world, God will discover 
 to you more sensibly and effectually than ever, the 
 vanity both of that and all other earthly comforts, so 
 as that you shall from henceforth never let forth your 
 hearts, your hope, your love, and delight, to any of 
 them, as you did before ? You could talk before of 
 the creature's vanity; but I question whether ever 
 you had so clear and convincing a sight of its vanity 
 as you have this day : and is not this a considerable 
 mercy in your eyes ? 
 
 Now, if ever God is weaning you from all fond opin- 
 ions, and vain expectations from this world, by this 
 your judgment of the creature is rectified, and your 
 affections to all other enjoyments on earth moderated : 
 and is this nothing? O, doubtless, it is a greater 
 mercy to you than to have your friend alive again. 
 
 And what if by this rod your wandering, gadding 
 heart shall be driven home to God, your neglected 
 duties revived, your decayed communion with God re- 
 stored, a spiritual heavenly frame of heart recovered? 
 What will you say then ? 
 
 Surely you will bless that merciful hand which re- 
 moved the obstructions ; and adore the divine wisdom 
 and goodness, that, by such a device as this, recovered 
 
114 
 
 you to himself. Now you can pray more constantly, 
 more spiritually, more affectionately, than before. O 
 blessed rod, which buds and blossoms with such fruits 
 as these ! Let this be written among your best mer- 
 cies ; for you shall have cause to adore and bless God 
 eternally for this beneficial affliction. 
 
 Consideration 17. Suffer not yourselves to be trans- 
 ported by impatience, and swallowed up of grief, be- 
 cause God hath exercised you under a smarting rod; 
 for, as smarting as it is, it is comparatively a gentle 
 stroke to what others as good as yourselves have felt. 
 
 Your dear relation is dead ; be it so : here is but 
 a single death before you; but others have seen 
 many deaths combined into one upon their relation, 
 to which yours is nothing. 
 
 Zedekiah saw his children murdered before his 
 eyes, and then had those eyes (alas ! too late) put out. 
 — The worthy author of that excellent book * fore- 
 mentioned, tells us of a choice and godly gentlewo- 
 man in the north of Ireland, who, when the rebellion 
 broke out there, fled with three children, one of them 
 upon the breast. They had not gone far, before 
 they were stripped naked by the Irish, who, to their 
 admiration, spared their lives. ( It is like, they con- 
 cluded that cold and hunger would kill them.) Af- 
 terwards, going on to the foot of a river which runs 
 to Lochneach, others met them, and would have 
 cast them into the river ; but this godly woman, not 
 dismayed, asked a little liberty to pray ; and as she 
 lay naked on the frozen ground, got resolution not 
 to go on her feet to so unjust a death ; upon which, 
 
 • " The Fulfilling of the Scriptures." 
 
115 
 
 having called her, and she refusing, was dragged by 
 the heals along that rugged way, to be cast in with 
 her little ones in company. But she then turned, 
 and, on her knees, says, " You should, I am sure, 
 be Christians, and men I see you are. In taking 
 away our miserable lives, you do us a pleasure ; but 
 know, that as we never wronged you nor yours, you 
 must remember to die also yourselves, and one day 
 give an account of this cruelty to the Judge of hea- 
 ven and earth." Hereupon they resolved not to 
 murder them with their own hands, but returned 
 them all naked upon a small island in the river, 
 without any provision, there to perish. 
 
 The next day, the two boys, having crept aside, 
 found the hide of a beast which had been killed at 
 the root of a tree ; which the mother cast over them, 
 lying upon the snow. The next day a little boat 
 goes by, unto whom she calls for God's sake to take 
 them out; but they, being Irish, refused. She de- 
 sired a little bread, but they said they had none ; 
 then she begs a coal of fire, which she obtained; 
 and thus, with some fallen chips, made a little fire ; 
 and the children, taking a piece of the hide, laid it 
 on the coals, and began to gnaw the leather : but, 
 without any extraordinary divine support, what could 
 this do? 
 
 Thus they lived ten days, without any visible 
 means of help, having no bread but ice and snow, 
 nor drink, but water. The two boys being nearly 
 starved, she pressed them to go out of her sight, 
 not being able to see their death ; yet God delivered 
 them as miraculously at last, as he had supported 
 them all the while. 
 
116 
 
 But judge whether a natural death, in an ordinary 
 way, be comparable to such a trial as this ; and yet 
 thus the Lord did by this choose an eminently gra- 
 cious woman. 
 
 And Mr. Wall, in his " None but Christ," re- 
 lates a sad passage of a poor family in Germany, who 
 were driven to that extremity in the famine, that at 
 last the parents made a motion one to the other, to 
 sell one of their children for bread to sustain them- 
 selves and the rest; but when they came to consider 
 which child it should be, their hearts so relented and 
 yearned upon every one, that they resolved rather all 
 to die together. Yea, we read in Lam. iv. 10. 
 " The hands of the pitiful women have sodden their 
 own children." 
 
 But why speak I of these extremities? How 
 many parents, yea, some godly ones too, have lived 
 to see their children dying in profaneness, and some 
 by the hand of justice, lamenting their rebellions with 
 a rope about their necks ! 
 
 Ah, reader, little dost thou know what stings there 
 are in the afflictions of others ! Surely you have no 
 reason to think the Lord hath dealt more bitterly 
 with you than any : it is a gentle stroke, a merciful 
 dispensation, if you compare it with what others have 
 felt. 
 
 Consideration 18. If God be your God, you have 
 really lost nothing by the removal of any creature- 
 comfort. 
 
 God is the fountain of all true comfort : creatures, 
 the very best and sweetest, are but cisterns to re- 
 ceive and convey to us what comfort God is pleased 
 to communicate to them; and if the cistern be bro- 
 
117 
 
 ken, or the pipe cut ofF, so that no more comi 
 be conveyed to us that way, he hath other waj^s and 
 mediums to do it by, which we think not of; and if 
 he please, he can convey his comforts to his people 
 without any of them : and if he do it more imme- 
 diately, we shall be no losers by that ; for no com- 
 forts in the world are so delectable and ravishingly 
 sweet, as those that flow immediately from the foun- 
 tain. And it is the sensuality of our hearts that 
 causes us to affect them so inordinately, and grieve 
 for the loss of them so immoderately, as if we had not 
 enough in God without these creature-supplements. 
 
 Is the fulness of the fountain yours ? and yet do 
 you cast down yourselves, because the broken cistern 
 is removed? The best creatures are no better. 
 Cisterns have nothing but what they receive, and 
 broken ones cannot hold what is put into them. 
 Why then do ye mourn, as if your life were bound 
 up in the creature ? You have as free an access to 
 the fountain as you had before. It is the advice of 
 a heathen, (and let them take the comfort of it,) to 
 repair, by a new earthly comfort, what we have lost 
 in the former. 
 
 '' Thou hast carried forth him whom thou lov- 
 edst," saith Seneca; " seek one whom thou mayest 
 love in his stead : it is better to repair than bemoan 
 thy loss." 
 
 But if God never repair your loss, in things of 
 the same kind, you know he can abundantly repair 
 it in himself. 
 
 Ah, Christian ! is not one kiss of his mouth, one 
 glimpse of his countenance, one seal of his Spirit, a 
 more sweet and substantial comfort than the sweetest 
 
118 
 
 relation in this world can aflPord you ? If the stream 
 fail, repair to the fountain : there is enough still ; 
 God is where he was, and what he was, though the 
 creature be not. 
 
 Consideration 19. Though you may want a little 
 comfort in your life, yet surely it may be recompensed 
 to you by a more easy death. 
 
 The removal of your friends before you, may turn 
 to your great advantage, when your hour is come 
 that you must follow them. Oh ! how have many 
 good souls been clogged and ensnared in their dying 
 hours, by the love, cares, and fears they have had 
 about those they must leave behind them in a sinful 
 world ! Your love to them might Jiave proved a snare 
 to you, and caused you to hang back as loath to go 
 hence; for these are the things that make men loath 
 to die. And thus it might have been with you, 
 except God had removed them beforehand, or should 
 give you in that day such sights of heaven, and tastes 
 of divine love, as should master and mortify all your 
 earthly affections to these things. 
 
 I knew a gracious person, now in heaven, who, 
 for many weeks in her last sickness, complained that 
 she found it hard to part with a dear relation, and 
 that there was nothing proved a greater clog to her 
 soul than this. It is much more easy to think of 
 going to our friends, who are in heaven before us, 
 than of parting with them, and leaving our desirable 
 and dear ones bcliind us. 
 
 And who knows what cares and distracting thoughts 
 we then may be pestered and distracted with on their 
 account? M^hat ^hall become of these when I am 
 gone ? I am now to leave them, God knows to 
 
119 
 
 what want, miseries, temptations, and afflictions, in 
 the midst of a deceitful, defiling, dangerous world. 
 
 I know it is our duty to leave our fatherless chil- 
 dren and friendless relations with God ; to trust them 
 with him who gave them to us : and some have been 
 enabled cheerfully to do so when they were parting 
 with them. Luther could say, " Lord, thou hast 
 given me a wife and children : I have little to leave 
 them ; nourish, teach, and keep them, O thou Fa- 
 ther of the fatherless, and Judge of the widow !" 
 But every Christian hath not Luther's faith. Some 
 find it a hard thing to disentangle their affections at 
 such a time : but now, if God hath sent all yours 
 before you, you have so much the less to do ; death 
 may be easier to you than others. 
 
 Considei^ation 20. But if nothing that hath been 
 yet said will stick with you, then, lastly, remember 
 that you are near that state and place which admits 
 no sorrows, nor sad reflections, upon any such accounts 
 as these. 
 
 Yet a little while, and ye shall not miss them, ye 
 shall not need them ; but ye shall live as the angels 
 of God. We now live partly by faith, partly by 
 sense ; partly upon God, and partly upon the crea- 
 ture : our state is mixed, therefore our comforts are 
 so too. But when God shall be all in all, and we 
 shall be as the angels of God in the way and manner 
 of our living, how much will the case be altered with 
 us then, from what it is now ! 
 
 Angels neither marry nor are given in marriage, 
 neither shall the children of the resurrection : when 
 the days of our sinning are ended, the days of our 
 mourning shall be so too. No graves were opened 
 
120 
 
 till sin entered, and no more shall be opened when 
 sin is excluded. 
 
 Our glorified relations shall live with us for ever : 
 they shall complain no more, die no more ; yea, this 
 is the happiness of that state to which you are pass- 
 ing on, that your souls being in the nearest conjunc- 
 tion with God, the fountain of joy, you shall have 
 no concernment out of him. You shall not be put 
 upon these exercises of patience, nor subjected to 
 such sorrow as you now feel, any more. It is but a 
 little while, and the end of all these things will come. 
 Oh, therefore, bear up as persons that expect such a 
 day of jubilee at hand ! 
 
 And thus I have finished the second general head 
 of this discourse, which is a dissuasive from the sin 
 of immoderate sorrow. 
 
 III. I now proceed to the third thing proposed, 
 namely. To remove the pleas and excuses for this 
 immoderate grief. It is natural to men, yea, to 
 good men, to justify their excesses, or at least ex- 
 tenuate them, by pleading for their passions, as if 
 they wanted not cause and reason enough to excuse 
 them. If these be fully answered, and the soul 
 once convinced, and left without apology for its sins, 
 it is then in a fair way for its cure, which is the last 
 thing designed in this treatise. 
 
 My present business, therefore, is to satisfy those 
 objections, and answer those reasons, which are com- 
 monly pleaded in this case, to justify our excessive 
 grief for lost relations. And though I shall carry it 
 in that line of relation to which the text directs, yet 
 it is equally applica})Ie to all others. 
 
121 
 
 Plea 1 . You press me, by many great considera- 
 tions, to meekness and quiet submission under this 
 heavy stroke of God; but you little know what a 
 sting my soul feels now in it. 
 
 This child was a child of many prayers ; it was a 
 Samuel begged of the Lord, and I concluded, when 
 I had it, that it brought with it the returns and an- 
 swers of many prayers. But now I see it was nothing 
 less : God had no regard to my prayer about it ; 
 nor was it given me in that special way of mercy 
 that I was imagining it to be. My child is not only 
 dead, but my prayers in the same day shut out and 
 denied. 
 
 Ans. 1. That you prayed for your children before 
 you had them, was your duty; and if you prayed not 
 for them submissively, referring it to the pleasure of 
 God to give or deny them, to continue or remove 
 them, as should seem good to him, that was your 
 sin : you ought not to limit the Holy One of Israel, 
 nor prescribe to him, nor capitulate with him, for 
 what term you should enjoy your outward comforts. 
 If you did so, it was your evil, and God hath justly 
 rebuked it by this stroke : if you pray conditionally 
 and submissively, referring both the mercy asked and 
 continuance of it, to the will of God, as you ought to 
 do, then there is nothing in the death of your child 
 that crosses the true scope and intent of your prayer. 
 
 Ans. 2. Your prayers may be answered, though 
 the thing prayed for be withheld; yea, or though it 
 should be given for a little while, and snatched away 
 from you again. There are four ways of God's an- 
 swering prayers : — By giving the thing prayed for 
 presently, — or by suspending the answer for a time, 
 F 12 
 
122 
 
 and giving it afterwards, — or by withholding that 
 mercy which you ask, from you, and giving you a 
 much better mercy in the room of it, — or, lastly, by 
 giving you patience to bear the loss and want of it : 
 ** My grace is sufficient for thee." 
 
 Now, if the Lord hath taken away your child or 
 friend, and in lieu thereof given you a meek, quiet, 
 submissive heart to his will, you need not say he hath 
 shut out your cry. 
 
 Pica 2. But 1 have lost a lovely, obHging, and 
 most endearing child, one that was beautiful and 
 sweet ; it is a stony heart that would not dissolve into 
 tears for the loss of one so desirable, and so engaging, 
 as this was. Ah ! it is no common loss. 
 
 Alls. 1. The more lovely and engaging your re- 
 lation was, the more excellent will your patience 
 and contentment with the will of God in its death 
 he : the more loveliness the more self-denial ; and 
 the more self-denial, the more grace. Had it been 
 a thousand times more endearingly sweet than it 
 was, it was not too good to deny for God. If, there- 
 fore, obedience to the will of God do indeed master 
 natural affections, and that you look upon patience and 
 contentment as much more beautiful than the sweet- 
 est and most desirable enjoyment on earth, it may 
 turn to ycm for a testimony of the truth and strength 
 of grace, that you can, like Abraliam, part w^ith a 
 chihl whom you so dearly love, in obedience to the 
 will of your God, whom you love infinitely more. 
 
 Ans. 2. The loveliness and beauty of our chil- 
 dren and rehitions, though it must be acknowledged 
 a good gift from the hand of God, yet it is but a 
 connuon gift, and oftentimes becomes a snare, and is 
 
123 
 
 in its own nature but a transitory, vanishing thing, 
 and therefore no such aggravation of tlie loss as is 
 pretended. 
 
 I say it is but a common gift : Eliab, Adonijah, 
 and Absalom, had as lovely presences as any in their 
 generation. Yea, it is not only common to the 
 wicked with the godly, but to brute animals, as well 
 as men ; and to most tliat excel in it, it becomes a 
 temptation : the souls of some had been more beau- 
 tiful and lovely, if their bodies had been less so. 
 Besides, it is but a flower which flourishes in its 
 month, and then fades. This, therefore, should not 
 be reflected on as so great a circumstance, to aggra- 
 vate your trouble. 
 
 Ans. 3. But if your relation sleep in Jesus, he 
 will appear ten thousand times more lovely in the 
 morning of the resurrection, than ever he was in this 
 world. What is the exactcst, purest beauty of mor- 
 tals, to the incomparable beauty of the saints in the 
 resurrection ? " Then shall the righteous shine 
 forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." 
 In this hope we part with them; therefore act suit- 
 ably to your hopes. 
 
 Plea 3. () but my child was nipped off by death 
 in the very bud ; I did but see, and love, and part. 
 Had 1 enjoyed it longer, and had time to suck out 
 the sweetness of such an enjoyment, I could have 
 borne it easier ; but its months or years with me 
 were so few, that they only served to raise an expec- 
 tation, whicli was quickly, and therefore tlie more 
 sadly disappointed. 
 
 Ans. 1. Did your friend die young, or was the 
 bond of any other relation dissolved almost as soon 
 F 2 
 
124 
 
 as made ? Let not tliis seem so intolerable a load 
 to you ; for if you have ground to hope they died in 
 Christ, then they lived long enough in this world.* It 
 is truly said, " lie liath sailed long enough, that hath 
 won the harbour ; and he hath fought long enough, 
 that hath obtained the victory : he hath run long 
 enough, that hath touched the goal ; and he hath 
 lived long enough on earth, that hath won heaven, 
 ])e his days ever so few." 
 
 .-/;w. 2. The sooner your relation died, the less 
 jiin hath been committed, and the less sorrow felt. 
 What can you see in this world but sin or sorrow ? 
 n quick passage through it to glory, is a special pri- 
 vilege. Surely the world is not so desirable a place, 
 that Christians should desire an hour's time longer 
 in it for themselves or theirs, than serves to fit them 
 for a better. 
 
 Alls. 3. And whereas you imagine the parting 
 would have been easier, if the enjoj-mcnt had been 
 longer, it is a fond and groundless suspicion. The 
 longer you had enjoyed them, the stronger would the 
 endearments have been. A young and tender plant 
 may be easily drawn up by a single hand ; but when 
 it hath spread and fixed its roots many years in the 
 earth, it will require many a strong blow and hard 
 tug to root it up : affections, like those under-ground 
 roots, are fixed and strengthened by nothing more 
 than consuetude and long possession : it is much 
 easier parting now, than it would be hereafter, what- 
 ever you think. However, this should satisfy, that 
 (lod's time is the best time. 
 
 • Virie Baxter's Epistle to the Life of INIr. John Janeway. 
 
125 
 
 Plea 4. O but I have lost all in one : it is my 
 only one ; I have none left in its room to repair the 
 breach, and make up the loss. If God had given 
 me other children to take comfort in, the loss had 
 not been so great ; but to lose all at one stroke is 
 insupportable. 
 
 Ans, 1. Religion allows not to Christians a liberty 
 of expressing the death of their dear relations, by so 
 hard a word as tlie loss of them is. They are not 
 lost, but sent before you. And it is a shameful 
 thing for a Christian to be reproved for such an un- 
 comely expression by a heathen. It is enough to 
 make us blush to read what a heathen said in this 
 case : " Never say thou hast lost any thing," saitli 
 Epictetus, " but that it is returned. Is thy son 
 dead ? He is only restored. Is thy inheritance 
 taken from thee ? It is also returned." And a 
 while after he adds, " Let every thing be as the gods 
 will have it." 
 
 Ars. 2. It is not a fit expression, to say you have 
 lost all in one, except that one be Christ; and he be- 
 ing once yours, can never be lost. Doubtless your 
 meaning is, you have lost all your comfort of that 
 kind : and what though you have ? Are there not 
 multitudes of comforts yet remaining of a higher kind, 
 and more precious and durable nature? If you have 
 no more of that sort, yet so long as you have better, 
 what cause have you to rejoice ! 
 
 A716. 3. You too much imitate the way of the 
 world in this complaint : they know not how to repair 
 the loss of one comfort, but by another of the same 
 nature, which must be put in its room to fill up the 
 vacancy. But have you no other way to supply 
 
12G 
 
 your loss ? Have you not a God that fills the place 
 of any creature that leaves you ? Surely this would 
 better become a man whose portion is in this hfe, 
 than one who professes God is his all in alL 
 
 Plea 5. O but my only one is not only taken 
 away, but there remains no expectation or probability 
 of any more : I must now look upon myself as a dry 
 tree, never to take comfort in children any more, 
 which is a cutting thought. 
 
 Ans. 1. Suppose what you say, that you have no 
 hope nor expectation of another child remaining to 
 you ; yet if you have a hope of better things than 
 children, you have no reason to be cast down : bless 
 God for higher and better hopes than these. The 
 I^ord comforts tliem that have no expectations of sons 
 or daut'hters with this : " That lie will give unto 
 tlicm in his house, and within his walls, a place and 
 a name better than of sons and daughters ; even an 
 cverlastin:; name, that shall not be cut off." There 
 are better mercies and higher hopes than these : 
 though your hopes of children, or from children, 
 should ])e cut off, yet, if your eternal hope be secure, 
 and sucii as shall not make you ashamed, you should 
 not be so cast down. 
 
 Aii!^. 2. \i God will not have your comforts to lie 
 any more in children, then resolve to place them in 
 himself, and you shall never find cause to complain of 
 loss by such an exchange. You will find that in God 
 which is not to i)c had in the creature: one hour's com- 
 munion with him should give you that which the 
 happiest parent never yet had from his children : you 
 will exchange brass for gold, perishing vanity for solid 
 and abiding excellency. 
 
127 
 
 Plea 6. But the suddenness of the stroke is amaz- 
 ing. God gave little or no warning to prepare for 
 this trial ; death executed its commission as soon as 
 it opened it. My dear husband, wife, or child, was 
 snatched unexpectedly out of my arms by an unex- 
 pected stroke ; and this makes my stroke heavier than 
 my complaint. 
 
 Alls, 1. That the death of your relation was so 
 sudden and surprising, was much your own fault, who 
 ought to have lived in the daily sense of his vanity, 
 and the expectation of your separation from him : 
 you knew it to be a dying comfort in its best estate; 
 and it is no such wonderful thing to see that dead, 
 which you knew before to be dying : besides, you 
 heard the changes ringing round about you in other 
 families ; you frequently saw other parents, husbands, 
 and wives, carrying forth their dead ; and what are all 
 these but warnings* given you to prepare for the like 
 trials ? Surely, then, it was your own security and 
 regardlessness that made this affliction so surprising 
 to you ; and who is to be blamed for that you know. 
 
 Ans. 2. There is much diflPerence betwixt the 
 sudden death of infants, and that of grown persons : 
 the latter may have much work to do, many sins ac- 
 tually to repent of, and many evidences of their 
 interest in Christ to examine and clear, in order to 
 their more comfortable death ; and so, sudden death 
 may be deprecated by them. But the case of infants, 
 who exercise not their reason, is far different : tliey 
 have no such work to do, but are purely passive : all 
 that is done in order to their salvation, is done by 
 God immediately upon them. So it comes all to one, 
 whether their death be more quick or slow. 
 
Ana. 3. You complain of the suddenness of tlie 
 stroke ; but, another will be ready to say, ' Had my 
 friend died in tliat manner, my affliction had been 
 nothing to what now it is : I have seen many deaths 
 combined into one : I saw the gradual approaches of 
 it upon my dear relation, who felt every tread of 
 death, as it came on toward him, who often cried 
 with Job, " Wherefore is light given to him who is 
 in misery, and life to the bitter in soul ; who long 
 for death, but it cometh not ; and dig for it more 
 than for hidden treasures ; who rejoice exceedingly, 
 and are glad when they can find the grave ?" ' 
 
 That which you reckon the sting of your affliction, 
 others would have reckoned a favour and privilege. 
 How many tender parents, and other relations, who 
 loved their friends as dearly as yourselves, have been 
 forced to their knees upon no other errand but this, 
 to beg the Lord to hasten the separation, and put an 
 end to that sorrow, which to them was much greater 
 than the sorrow for the dead ! 
 
 Plea 7. You press me to moderation of sorrows, 
 and 1 know I ought to show it ; but you do not 
 know how the case stands with me : there is a sting 
 in this affliction, that none feels but myself; and O 
 how intolerable it is now ! I neglected proper 
 means in season to preserve life, or miscarried in the 
 use of means. I now see such a neglect, or such a 
 mistake al)out the means, as I cannot but judge 
 greatly to contribute to that sad loss which I now, 
 too late, lament. 
 
 O my negligence ! C) my rashness and inconsid- 
 ernteness ! How doth my conscience now smite me 
 for my folly ; an"il by this aggravate my burden, 
 
129 
 
 beyond what Is usually felt by others ! Had I sea- 
 sonably appHed myself to the use of proper means, 
 and kept strictly to such courses and counsels as those 
 who are able and skilful might have prescribed, I 
 might now have had a living husband, wife, or child : 
 whereas I am now not only bereaved, but am apt to 
 think I have bereaved myself of them. Surely 
 there is no sorrow like unto my sorrow ! 
 
 u4?is, 1. Though it be an evil to neglect and slight 
 the means ordained by God for the recovery of health, 
 yet it is no less evil to ascribe too much to them, or 
 rely too much on them. The best means in the 
 world are weak and ineffectual without God's assist- 
 ance and concurrence, and they never have that as- 
 sistance and concurrence when his time is come ; and 
 that it was fully come in your friend's case, is mani- 
 fested now by the event. So that, if your friend had 
 had the most excellent helps the world affords, they 
 would have availed nothing. This consideration takes 
 place only in your case, who see what the will of God 
 is by the issue, and may not be pleaded by any whilst 
 it remains dubious and uncertain, as is generally done 
 in time of sickness. 
 
 Alls. 2. Do you not unjustly charge and find fault 
 with yourselves for that which is not really your fault 
 or neglect ? How far you are chargeable in this case, 
 will best appear by comparing the circumstances you 
 are now in, with those you were in when your rela- 
 tion was only arrested by sickness, and it was dubious 
 to you what was your duty and best course to take. 
 
 Possibly you had observed so many perish in phy- 
 sicians' hands, and so many recover without them, 
 that you judged it safer for your friend to be without 
 f3 
 
ISO 
 
 tliosc means tlian to be liazardctl by them. Or, if 
 clivers metliods and courses were prescribed and per- 
 suaded to, and you now see your error in preferring 
 tliat whicli was most improper, and neglecting what 
 was more safe and probable — yet, as long as it did 
 not so a))pear to your understanding at that time, 
 but you followed the best light you had to guide you 
 at that time, it were most unjust to charge the fault 
 upon yourselves, for choosing that course that then 
 seemed best to you, whether it were so in itself or not. 
 
 To be angry with yourselves for doing or omitting 
 what was then done, or omitted, according to your 
 best discretion and judgment, because you now see it 
 by the light of the event far otherwise than you did 
 before — it is to be troubled that you are but men, or 
 that you are not as God, who only can foresee issues 
 and events ; and that you acted as all rational crea- 
 tures are bound to do, accordina' to the best lUrht 
 they have, at the time and season of action. 
 
 Ans, 3. To conclude, Times of great affliction 
 are ordinarily times of great temptation, and it is 
 usual with Satan then to charge us with more sins 
 than we are really guilty of; and also makes those 
 things seem to be sins, which, upon impartial exami- 
 nation, will not be found to be so. 
 
 Indeed, had your neglect or miscarriage been 
 known or voluntary, or had you really preferred a 
 li:tle money (being able to give it) before the life of 
 your relation, and did deliberately choose to hazard 
 this, rather than part with that, no doubt, then, but 
 there had been much evil of sin mixed with your 
 ifHictions ; and your conscience may justly smite 
 yon for it, as vbur sin. But in the other case. 
 
131 
 
 winch is more common, and I presume yours, it is a 
 false charge, and you ought not to ahet the design 
 of Satan in it. 
 
 Judge by the sorrow you now feel for your friend, 
 in what degree he was dear to you, and what you 
 could not willingly give to ransom his life, if it could 
 be done with money. Judge, I say, by this, how 
 groundless the charge is that Satan now draws up 
 against you, and you are but too ready to yield to 
 the truth of it. 
 
 Plea 8. But my troubles are upon a higher score 
 and account. My child or friend has passed into 
 eternity, and I know not how it is with his soul. 
 Were I sure ray relation was with Christ, I should 
 be quiet; but my fears, on the contrary, are over- 
 whelming : O it is terrible to tinnk of the damnation 
 of one so dear to me ! 
 
 Ans. 1. Admit what the objection supposes, that 
 you have real grounds to fear the eternal condition of 
 your dear relation ; yet it is utterly unbeseeming you, 
 even in such a case as this, to dispute with, or repine 
 ao;ainst the Lord. 
 
 I do confess it is a sore and heavy trial, and that 
 there is no case more sad and sinking to the spirit of 
 a gracious person. Their death is but a trifle to 
 this ; but yet, if ye be such as fear the Lord, me- 
 thinks his indisputable sovereignty over them, and 
 his distinguishing love and mercy to you, should at 
 least silence you in that matter. 
 
 L His indisputable sovereignty over them : " Who 
 art thou, O man, who disputest with God ?" He 
 speaks in the matters of eternal election and reproba- 
 tion. What if the Lord will not be gracious to those 
 
132 
 
 who arc so dear to us ? Is tlicrc any wrong done to 
 tlicm or us thereby ? Aaron's two sons were cut 
 off in the act of sin by the Lord's immediate hand, 
 and yet he hchl his peace. God told Abraham 
 plainly, that the covenant should not be estabhshed 
 with IshmacI, for whom he so earnestly prayed, " O 
 let Ishniacl live before thee !" and he knew that 
 there was no salvation out of the covenant, and yet 
 he sits down silent under the word of this fear. 
 
 2. But if this do not quiet you, yet methinks his 
 distinc^uishing love and mercy to you should do it. 
 () what do you owe to God, that root and branch 
 liath not been cast together into the fire ! that the 
 Lord hatli given you good hope, through grace, that 
 it shall be well with you for ever ! Let this stop 
 your mouth, and quiet your spirit, though you would 
 have grounds for this fear. 
 
 Ans. 2. But pray examine the grounds of your 
 fear, whether it m.ay not proceed from the strength 
 of your affections to the eternal welfare of your friend, 
 or from the subtlety of Satan, designing hereby to 
 overwhelm and swallow you up in supposed, as well 
 as from just grounds and causes. In two cases, it is 
 very probable your fear may proceed only from your 
 own aliections, or Satan's temptations : 
 
 1. If your relation died young, before it did any 
 thing to destroy your hopes. Or, 
 
 2. If grown, and in some good degree hopeful ; 
 only he (hd not in life, or at death, manifest and give 
 evidence of grace with that clearness as you desired. 
 
 As to the case of infants in general, it is none of 
 nur concern to judge their condition ; and as for those 
 t!iat sprang fronr covenanted parents, it becomes us 
 
133 
 
 to exercise charity towards them : the Scripture 
 speaks very favourably of them. 
 
 And as for the more adult, who have escaped the 
 pollutions of the world, and made conscience of sin 
 and duty, albeit they never manifested what you could 
 desire they had ; yet in them, as in young Abijah, 
 " may be found some good things toward the Lord," 
 which you never took notice of. Reverence of your 
 authority, bashfulness, and shamefacedness, reserved- 
 ness of disposition, and many other things, may hide 
 those weak and small beginnings of grace that are in 
 children, from the observations of the parents. God 
 might see in them what you never sav/ : he despiseth 
 not the day of small things. 
 
 However it may be, it is now out of your reach : 
 your concern rather is to improve the affliction to your 
 own good, than judge and determine their condition, 
 which belongs not to you, but God. 
 
 Plea 9. O but I have sinned in this relation, and 
 now God hath punished my sin in dissolving it. O, 
 saith one, my heart was set too much upon it : I even 
 idolized it ; that was my sin : and, saith another, I 
 wanted due affections, and did not love my relation, 
 at least not so spiritually as 1 ought; that was my 
 sin. Now God is visiting me for all the neglects and 
 defects that have been in me towards my relation. 
 
 Ans. 1. There is no man so thoroughly sanctified, 
 as not to fail and come short in many things pertaining 
 to his relative duties. And to speak as the thing 
 is, the corruptions of the holiest persons are as much 
 discovered in this, as in any other thing whatsoever : 
 and it is a very common thing for conscience, not only 
 to charge their failures upon us, but to aggravate 
 
134 
 
 tliem to tlic utmost wlicn God hath made the separa- 
 tion. So tliat this is no more than what is usual and 
 very common witli persons in your case. 
 
 Ans. 2. Admit tliat which the ohjection supposes 
 — that Clod had afflicted you for your sins, and re- 
 moved that comlbrt from you wliich you idoHzed, 
 and too nuich doted on ; yet there is no reason you 
 should he so cast down under your affliction; for all 
 this may he, and prohahly is, the fruit of his love to, 
 and care of your soul. He tells the afflicted, for 
 their comfort, " Whom I love, I rebuke and chas- 
 ten." Rev. iii. 19. How much better is it to have 
 an idolized enjoyment taken from you in mercy, than 
 if Ciod should say concerning you, as he did of 
 Ephraim, " He is joined to idols, let him alone !" 
 
 () it is better for you that your Father now reckons 
 with you for your follies with the rod in his hand, 
 tlian to say, as he doth of some, Let them go on, I 
 will not hinder them in, or rebuke them for, their 
 sinful courses ; but will reckon v.ith them for all to- 
 jjether in hell at last ! 
 
 Ans. 3. And as to what you now charge upon 
 yourself, that the neglect of duty did spring from the 
 want of love to your relations — your sorrow at part- 
 ing may evidence that your relation was rooted deep 
 in your affection : but if your love was not so spiritual 
 and pure, to love and enjoy them in God, that was 
 undoubtedly your sin, and is the sin of most Chris- 
 tians; for which, both you and all others ought to 
 be humble. 
 
 Plea 10. God hath blessed me with an estate, 
 and outward comforts in the world, which I reckoned 
 to have lolt to iny posterity : and now I have none 
 
135 
 
 to leave it witli, nor have I any comfort to think of 
 it ; the purposes of my heart are hroken off, and tlie 
 comfort of all my other enjoyments hlasted hy tliis 
 stroke in an hour. How are the pains and cares of 
 many years perished ! 
 
 A)is. 1. How many are there in the world, yea, of 
 our own acquaintance, whom God hath either de- 
 nied, or deprived, hoth of the comforts of children 
 and of estates too ! If he have left you those out- 
 ward comforts, you ought to acknowledge his good- 
 ness therein, and not to slight these, because he hath 
 deprived you of the other. 
 
 A71S, 2. Though your children be gone, yet God 
 hath many children left in the world : those bowels 
 you may refresh with what he hath bestowed upon 
 you, and your charity to them will doubtless turn to 
 a more comfortable account, than if you had left a 
 large estate to your own posterity. 
 
 Surely we are not sent into this world to heap up 
 great estates for our children: and if you have been 
 too eager in this design, you may now read God's 
 just rebuke of your folly. Bless God, you have yet 
 an opportunity to serve him eminently by your cha- 
 rity : and if God deny you other executors, let your 
 own hands be your executors, to distribute to the 
 necessity of the saints ; that the blessings of them 
 that are ready to perish may come upon you. 
 
 Plea 11. O but the remembrance of its witty 
 words and pretty actions are wounding. 
 
 Ans. 1. Let it rather lift up your heart to Cxod in 
 praise, that gave you so desirable a child, than fill 
 your heart with discontent at liis hand in removing 
 it. How many parents are there in the world, whose 
 
136 
 
 cliiidrcn God hath deprived of reason and understand- 
 ing, so tliat they only differ from the heasts in ex- 
 ternal shape and fi<,rure ! And how many show be- 
 times so perverse a temper, that little comfort can be 
 expected from them ! 
 
 A/IS. 2. These are but small circumstances and 
 trivi;d thin<,^s in themselves; but by these little things 
 Satan manages a great design against your soul, to 
 deject or exasperate it. And surely this is not your 
 business at this time : you have greater things than 
 the words and actions of children to mind : to search 
 out CJod's end in the affliction — to mortify the cor- 
 ruption it is sent to rebuke — to quiet your heart in 
 the will of God : this is your work. 
 
 Pica 12. Lastly, It is objected, O but God hides 
 his face from me in mine affliction ; it is dark within 
 as well as without : and this makes my case most 
 deplorable, greatly afflicted, and sadly deserted. 
 
 Ans. 1. Though you want a present sensible 
 comfort, yet you have reason to be thankful for gra- 
 cious supports. Though the light of God's counte- 
 nance shine not upon you, yet you find the everlasting 
 arms arc underneath you ; the care of God worketh 
 for you, when the consolations of God are drawn 
 from you. 
 
 Ans. 2. To have God hide his face in the time of 
 trouble, is no new or unusual thing : God's dearest 
 saints, yea, his own Son hath experienced it; who, 
 ill tlic depths of inward and outward trouble, when 
 wave called unto wave, felt not those sweet sensible 
 influences of comfort from Ciod, which had always 
 tilled his soul formerly. If Christ cry in extremity, 
 " My God, my' God, why hast thou forsaken me?" 
 
137 
 
 then sure we need not wonder, as if some strange 
 thing had happened to us. 
 
 Ans. 3. May not your unsubmissive carriage 
 under the rod, provoke God to hide his face from 
 you ? Pray consider it well, nothing is more pro- 
 bable than this, to be the cause of God's withdraw- 
 ment from you. Could you in meekness and quiet- 
 ness receive that cup your Father hath given you to 
 drink — accept the punishment of your iniquities — 
 say, ' Good is the word of the Lord — It is the Lord, 
 let him do what he will,' — you would soon find the 
 case altered with you ; but the comforting Spirit 
 finds no delight or rest in a turbulent and tumultu- 
 ous breast. 
 
 And thus I have satisfied the most considerable 
 pleas urged in justification of our excesses. 
 
 IV. I come now to the last thing proposed; namely, 
 The means of curing and preventing these sinful ex- 
 cesses of sorrow for the death of our dear relations. 
 
 And although much hath been said already to dis- 
 suade from this evil, and I have enlarged already much 
 beyond my first intention, yet I shall cast in some 
 farther help and assistance towards the healing of this 
 distemper, by prescribing the following rules : — 
 
 Rule L If you would not mourn excessively for 
 the loss of creature comforts, then beware that vou 
 set not your delight and love excessively or inordi- 
 nately upon them whilst you enjoy them. 
 
 Strong aftections make strong afflictions ; the 
 higher the tide, the lower the ebb. According to 
 the measure of our delight in the enjoyment, is our 
 grief in the loss of these things. The apostle knits 
 
138 
 
 these two rrraces, temperance and patience, together 
 in the precept : and it is very observable, how intem- 
 perance and impatience are inseparably linked in ex- 
 perience; yea, the experience of the best men. You 
 read, how *' Israel loved Joseph more than all his 
 children, because he was the son of his old age : and 
 he made him a coat of many colours." 
 
 This was the darling : Jacob's heart was exceed- 
 ingly set upon him ; his very life was bound up in 
 the life of the lad. Now, when the supposed death 
 of his child was brought to him, how did he carry it .'' 
 " And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon 
 his loins, and mourned for his son many days. And 
 all his sons and all liis daughters rose up to comfort 
 him, but he refused to be comforted. And he said, 
 For I will go down to the grave to my son mourning. 
 Thus his father wept for him." 
 
 Here, as in a glass, are the effects of excessive 
 love to a child represented. Here you may see what 
 work immoderate love will make, even in a sanctified 
 heart. O, therefore, let your moderation be known 
 to all men, in your delights and sorrows about earthly 
 tilings ! for ordinarily the proportion of the one is 
 answerable to the other. 
 
 Rule 2. If you would not be overwhelmed with 
 grief for the loss of your relations, be exact and 
 careful in discharging your duties to them while you 
 have them. 
 
 The testimony of your conscience, that you have 
 laboured, in all things, to discharge the duties you 
 owe to your relations, whilst they were with you, will 
 prove an exceljent allay to your sorrows for them, 
 wlion they are no longer yours. It is not so much 
 
139 
 
 tlic sino-Ic affliction, as the guilt charged upon us in 
 times of affliction, that makes our load so heavy. 
 
 O what a terrible thing it is to look upon our dead 
 friend, whilst conscience is accusing and upbraiding 
 us for our duties neglected, and such or such sins 
 committed ! O you little think how dreadful a 
 spectacle this will make the dead body of thy friend 
 to thee ! 
 
 Conscience, if not quite stupid or dead, will speak 
 at such a time. O, therefore, as ever you would 
 provide for a comfortable parting at death, or meet- 
 ing again at judgment, be exact, punctual, and cir- 
 cumspect in all your relative duties ! 
 
 Rule 3. If you would not be overwhelmed by 
 trouble for the loss of dear relations, then turn to 
 God under your trouble, and pour out your sorrows 
 by prayer into his bosom. 
 
 This will ease and allay your troubles. Blessed 
 be God for the ordinance of prayer : how much are 
 all the saints beholden to it at all times, but especially 
 in heart-sinking and distressful times ! It is some 
 relief, when in distress wq can pour out our trouble 
 into the bosom of a wife, or faithful friend : how 
 much more when we leave our complaint before the 
 gracious, wise, and faithful God ! I told you before 
 of that holy man, who, having lost his dear and only 
 son, got to his closet, there poured out his soul freely 
 to the Lord, and when he came down to his friends 
 that were waiting below to comfort him, and fearing 
 how he would bear that stroke, he came from his 
 duty with a cheerful countenance, telling them, " He 
 would be content to bury a son (if it were possible) 
 every day, provided he might enjoy such comforts as 
 his soul had enjoyed in that private hour." 
 
140 
 
 Go thy way, Christian, to thy God, get thee to 
 thy knees in tlic cloudy and dark day : retire from 
 all creatures, tliat tliou niayest have thy full liberty 
 with God, and there pour out thy heart before him, 
 in free, full, and broken-hearted confessions of sins — 
 judf^e thyself worthy of hell, as well as of this trouble 
 — ^justify God in all his smartest strokes — beg him, 
 in this distress, to put under the everlasting arms — 
 entreat one smile, one gracious look, to enlighten thy 
 darkness, and cheer thy drooping spirit. Say, with 
 the prophet Jeremiah, " Be not thou a terror to me : 
 thou art my hope in the day of evil." And try what 
 relief such a course will afiord thee. Surely, if thy 
 heart be sincere in this course, thou shalt be able to 
 say, with the Psalmist, " In the multitude of my 
 thoughts which I had within me, thy comforts de- 
 lighted my soul." 
 
 Ikule 4. If you would bear the loss of your dear 
 relations with moderation, eye God in the whole 
 process of the affliction more, and secondary causes 
 and circumstances of the matter less. 
 
 " I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because 
 thou didst it." Consider the hand of the Lord in 
 the whole matter: and that, 
 
 1. As a sovereign hand, which hath right to dis- 
 pose of thee and all thy comforts without thy leave 
 or consent. 
 
 2. As a Father's hand, correcting thee in love 
 and faithfulness : " Whom the Lord loveth, he cor- 
 recteth, as a father the son in whom he deliixhtcth." 
 O if once you could but see affliction as a rod in a 
 father's hand, proceeding from his love, and intended 
 for your eternal good, how quiet would you then be ! 
 
141 
 
 And surely if it draw your heart nearer to God, and 
 mortify it more to this vain world, it is a rod in the 
 hand of special love : if it end in your love to God, 
 doubt not but it comes from God's love to you. 
 
 3. As a just and righteous hand. Hast not thou 
 procured this to thyself by thy own folly ? Yea, the 
 Lord is just in all that is come upon thee : whatever 
 he hath done, yet he hath done thee no wrong. 
 
 4. As a moderate and merciful hand, that hath 
 punished thee less than thine iniquities deserved. 
 He hath cast thee into affliction, he might justly 
 have cast thee into hell. It is of the Lord's mercy 
 that thou art not consumed. Why doth tlie living 
 man complain ? 
 
 Rule 5. If you would bear your affliction with 
 moderation, compare it with the affliction of other 
 men, and that will greatly quiet your spirits. 
 
 You have no cause to say, God hath dealt bitterly 
 with you, and that there is no sorrow like your sor- 
 row. Look round about you, and impartially con- 
 sider the condition that others are in; and they no- 
 thing inferior to you in any respect. You had one 
 dead child ; Aaron had two at a stroke. Job all at one 
 stroke ; and both these by an immediate stroke from 
 the hand of God. Some godly parents have lived 
 to see their children die in their sin by the hand of 
 justice. Others have seen them live to the dishonour 
 of God, and breaking of their own spirits; and would 
 have esteemed it a mercy if they had died from the 
 womb, and given up the ghost when they came out 
 of the belly, as Job speaks. 
 
 In what misery hath some parents seen tlieir chil- 
 dren lie ? God holding them as so many terrible 
 
14^2 
 
 spectacles of misery before tlieir eyes; so that tliey 
 have bcf^gcd the Lord, with importunity, to let loose 
 his hands and cut them off; deatli bein^r, in their 
 esteem, nothing to those continual agonies in which 
 they liave seen tliem weltering from day to day. O ! 
 you little know what a bitter cup others have had 
 given them to drink ! Surely, if you compare, you 
 may say, H\c. T.ord liath dealt gently and graciously 
 with me. 
 
 /////(• (). Carefully shun and avoid wliatsoever may 
 renew vour sorrow, or provoke you to impatience. 
 
 Increase not your sorrow by the sight of, or dis- 
 courses about, sad objects; and labour to avoid them, 
 as occasions presented by the enemy of your souls, 
 to draw forth the corruption of your heart. 
 
 I told you before, why .Jacob would not have the 
 child of which Rachel died, called after the name his 
 wife had given, Benoni, " The son of my sorrow :" 
 lest it should prove a daily occasion of renewing his 
 trouble for the loss of his dear wife: but he called 
 his name Benjamin. 
 
 Your patience is like tinder or gunpowder : so 
 long as you can prevent the sparks from falling on 
 it, there is no great danger; but you that carry such 
 dangerous prepared matter in your own hearts, can- 
 not be too careful to prevent them. Do by mur- 
 muring, as you do by blasphemous thoughts — think 
 quite another way, and give no occasion. 
 
 K/dc 7. In the day of your mourning for the death 
 of your friends, seriously consider your own death 
 as approacliing, and that you and your deiid friends 
 are distinguished by a small interval and point of 
 tinio. " I shall go to him." 2 Sam. xii. 23. Surely 
 
143 
 
 the tliouglits of your own death, as approaching also, 
 will greatly allay your sorrows for the dead tliat are 
 gone hefore you. 
 
 We are apt to fancy a long life in the world ; and 
 then the loss of those comforts, from which we pro- 
 mised ourselves so much of the sweetness and com- 
 fort of our lives, seems an intolerable thing. 
 
 But would you realize your own death more, you 
 would not be so deeply concerned for their deaths as 
 you are. Could you but look into your own graves 
 more seriously, you would be able to look into your 
 friend's grave more composedly. 
 
 And thus I have finished what I desired from 
 
 o 
 
 this scripture. The Father of mercies, and God of 
 all comforts, whose sole prerogative it is to comfort 
 them that are cast down, write all his truths upon 
 your hearts, that they abide there, and reduce your 
 disordered affections to that frame which best suits 
 the will of God, and the profession you make of sub- 
 jection and resignation thereunto. 
 
A 
 
 FRIENDLY VISIT 
 
 TO THE 
 
 HOUSE OF MOURNING. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. RICHARD CECIL, A.M. 
 
 It 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The reflecting mind is at a loss to know, why the 
 evidence of experiment, which is allowed in all the 
 departments of art and of science, should be rejected 
 in matters of religion. In estimating the value of a 
 mechanical contrivance, or in ascertainin^f thestrcnorth 
 of a principle in philosophy, the question is uniformly 
 proposed — How does the contrivance succeed ? or, 
 how does the scheme work ? or, in what precise mode 
 and measure may the boasted principle admit of a 
 practical application ? If the device of the mechanic, 
 or the scheme of the philosopher, is found to succeed 
 admirably, when applied to real use — or is ascertained 
 by actual experiment to be highly beneficial in solv- 
 ing difficulties, and in illustrating the beauty and 
 harmony of nature — he must be a hardy sceptic in- 
 deed, who will question the value of the one, or the 
 truth of the other. Why, then, ought it not to be 
 so in matters of moral and religious truth ? The 
 revelation of God is expressly designed for practical 
 application, and it may be reasonably expected to 
 fulfil the ends at which it aims. Circumstances^ in- 
 deed, there may be, in the moral constitution and 
 G 2 
 
148 
 
 state of man, wliich may operate in preventing even 
 the best selected means from being successful in the 
 attainment of their ends. The rehgion of the Savi- 
 our may commend itself to the approbation of every 
 impartial judge, by its admirable adaptation to the 
 wants of man ; and yet, in consequence of his blind- 
 ness, and prejudices, and depraved affections, it may 
 fail in gaining access to his heart, or it may be re- 
 jected as unsuitable to his case. We are not at li- 
 l)erty therefore to argue a(jainst religion, because, in 
 coi^equence of circumstances u'hich counteract its in- 
 fluence, the effects which it undertakes to accomplish 
 have not been produced. But we may contend most 
 strenuously and successfully for religion, on the 
 ground, that notwithstanding all the obstacles which 
 stand in its way, it has triumphed signally, and has 
 gained, in no inconsiderable measure, the grand ob- 
 ject which it is designed to accomplish. 
 
 Is it then true, that the religion of the gospel has 
 been tried by the test of experiment, fairly and im- 
 partially applied? And what has been the result, 
 even in a state of things not altogether favourable to 
 the issue expected? We answer, without hesitation, 
 in the affirmative. Christianity has been tried by the 
 test of experiment, and it has come forth like gold 
 from the furnace. It undertakes to enlighten the 
 minds of men, by communicating the clearest and 
 most enlarged ideas of the character and ijovernment 
 of Clod : and is it not a fact, that its humblest disci- 
 ples possess infinitely more correct and sublime con- 
 ceptions of these subjects, than were possessed by 
 the most learned and profound of the philosophers of 
 antiquity? Christianity exhibits human nature as 
 
149 
 
 in a degraded state ; alienated from God ; disinclined 
 to his love and worship ; opposed to the spirituality 
 of his law, and habitually prone to iniquity: and has 
 not the experience of men, in every age, and the im- 
 partial testimony of recorded history, proved, beyond 
 the reach of contradiction, the truth and exactness of 
 the representation ? Christianity unfolds a method 
 of reconciliation with God, through the merits and 
 mediation of a Divine Redeemer : and have not facts 
 innumerable combined to prove, that this method is 
 admirably adapted to the state of man, and calculated 
 at once to promote the glory of God, and the best 
 interests of his creatures ? But, farther, Christianity 
 undertakes to provide the best means for rescuing 
 man from the bondage of corruption, and forming 
 him to the resemblance, and the love, and the practice, 
 of whatsoever is lovely, and morally pure in charac- 
 ter and in conduct : and has not its tendency, in this 
 point of view, been put to the test of experiment ? 
 and has it not been found, that while every system 
 of human contrivance leaves men as it found them, 
 the system of the gospel has been wonderfully effica- 
 cious in changing the character of man, transforming 
 the very aspect of human society, and rearing, on the 
 dreary wastes of the moral wilderness, the fair and 
 attractive fruits of righteousness, and godliness, and 
 charity ? 
 
 It has been said, that the evidence in favour of 
 the gospel, arising from its experimental application, 
 can prove satisfactory to those alone who have acUi- 
 ally believed the gospel, and have felt its renovating 
 power ; and that the experience of one man can be 
 no rule for guiding the judgment of another. There 
 
150 
 
 may be some truth in this ; but it is by no means 
 true to the extent to which our opponents would 
 wish us to behevc. Unquestionably, that man alone 
 knows fully the nature and value of the testimony 
 which revelation bears to itself, who has received it 
 in faitli aiul love, and wlio, under its transforming 
 influence, has been " brought out of darkness into 
 marvellous Ii<^ht." Like the blind man in the <yos- 
 pel, he has ascertained the fitness of the means em- 
 ployed for effecting the cure of his spiritual disease, 
 by the simple fact of the actual accomplishment of 
 the cure itself. And this is a very plain reason why 
 wc ought to urge on men the importance of guarding 
 against speculative notions of truth, and of seeking 
 a personal application of it to their own hearts and 
 consciences in the sight of God. But let it not be 
 thought, that practical religion is entirely a matter 
 of feeling; and that the individual who cherishes it 
 can alone be competent to judge of its tendencies 
 and effects. Religion, unquestionably, is a matter 
 between God and conscience, and the affections of 
 the renewed heart are the property of that heart 
 alone. Still it is plain, that the effects of religious 
 principle, and of religious affections, maybe exhibited 
 in outward life, and may be judged of by those who 
 neither profess the principle, nor cherish the affec- 
 tions. From the effect, we may judge of the cause : 
 and as, in Natural Theology, we proceed from the 
 evidences of wisdom in the natural world, to the in- 
 ference that a wise architect must have been em- 
 ployed in their production, so, in the case before us, 
 wo may reasonably argue, that results so very differ- 
 ent from what the history of man, in any other cir- 
 
151 
 
 cumstances, has been found to present, must have 
 proceeded from a cause altogether remote from any 
 hitherto recognised in the experience, or in the his- 
 tory of mankind. Are we not competent to recognise 
 the change which has passed upon a man, when, from 
 a drunkard, he becomes the pattern of temperance ? 
 — when, from licentious indolence, he passes into 
 the regions of purity and of holiness ? — -when, from 
 the towering heights of ambition, or pride, or vain- 
 glory, he descends into the mild and retiring shades 
 of humility and resigned contentment ? The change 
 which passes on the character is a phenomenon open 
 to all; and the evidence which it furnishes in favour 
 of the cause in which that change has originated, is 
 perfectly conclusive. The gospel is thus proved, by 
 experimental induction, to be admirably adapted to 
 the state of man, as a moral but fallen being ; and its 
 spiritual results, in life and in character, bear testi- 
 mony to the divinity of its original. Deism denies 
 or obscures the moral attributes of God: Christi- 
 anity illustrates and exalts them. Deism frowns on 
 some of the noblest virtues that adorn and dignify 
 the character : Christianity, with all its practical in- 
 fluence, enforces and cherishes them. Deism sup- 
 plies no effectual motives to holy obedience : Chris- 
 tianity furnishes such motives as tend, in the highest 
 degree, to promote the hatred of sin and the culture 
 of holiness. Deism has no power to change the 
 habits and the pursuits of men : Christianity infuses 
 into the souls of its recipients a principle of life, which 
 triumphs over the strongest propensities, and tlie most 
 inveterate prejudices. Deism leaves man as it finds 
 him, the victim of moral disease and death : Chris- 
 
152 
 
 tianity raises to new life, introduces into a new world, 
 and transforms the soul into the image of its Maker. 
 " Philosophy may place us on the top of Pisgah; 
 but tlicre, like Moses, we must die : the gospel alone 
 puts us in possession of the good land." It presents 
 to the trembling aspirant after happiness, the noblest 
 of all prospects ; and it says to him, in the language 
 of encouragement, " All is yours." 
 
 There is one branch of the experimental evidence 
 of the gospel, which is plainly within the reach of 
 every man's examination, and which must ever carry 
 along with it a mildly persuasive influence. We 
 alhide to that pecuHar feature of the religion of Jesus, 
 wliich qualifies it for discharging the valuable and 
 endearing office of a comforter to man, amid all the 
 trials of his journey through life. If you examine 
 the diversified religions of ancient and modern pa- 
 ganism, you will find them utterly destitute of any 
 system of means for alleviating the sorrow^s of mor- 
 tahty : and if you trace the history of paganism, even 
 in its most attractive forms, you will find, that, in fact, 
 the ills of life were little regarded, and very slenderly 
 sympathized witli, among the votaries of heathen 
 mythology. Wherever the dreary wilderness of ido- 
 latry and superstition extends itself, there you look 
 in vain for the charities which endear, and the sym- 
 pathies which sweeten life. A cold and repulsive 
 misanthropy presides in malignant authority. The 
 genius of benevolence has taken his flight ; and sel- 
 fishness and cruelty fill the whole sphere of vision. 
 A pagan, whether of the ancient or of the modern 
 school, is, in sickpess and at death, the deserted and 
 solitary victim of cold and freezing neglect. His 
 
views of the future are dark and disheartening ; and 
 of his surrounding attendants, if he has any, it may 
 be fitly said, " Miserable comforters are ye all ; phy- 
 sicians of no value." 
 
 The deficiencies of paganism are not supplied by 
 the infidel philosophy. It presents to the mind no 
 such enlarged and cheering views of the divine char- 
 acter and government, as will soothe and support amid 
 the anxieties of nature. It leaves us altogether at a 
 loss to know w^hether or not Mercy finds a place in 
 the government of God. It interposes an awful 
 blank between the Creator and the creature; and 
 attempts in vain a reply to the all-important inquiry. 
 How shall man be just with God ? It leaves its vo- 
 taries helpless and forlorn, at the very time when 
 consolation is most required. We have heard and 
 read the melancholy lamentations of the licentious 
 and infidel Chesterfield, over the wretched inanity 
 of a worldly and sensual life ; and the public prints 
 have lately exhibited the affecting, but edifying cor- 
 respondence between two American Statesmen of 
 great name, now sinking in the vale of years — without 
 any soothing recollections, — anticipating death " with- 
 out God, and without hope."* 
 
 Let an infidel philosopher be introduced into the 
 secret retirement of a friend who has been just visited 
 with some of the most painful of human vicissitudes 
 — who has lost, by death, the partner of his days, or 
 the children of his hopes ; and whose outward cir- 
 cumstances have undergone a painful reverse. How 
 
 • See the Letters of President Jetferson and President Adams, 
 which lately appeared in several of the American newspapers and 
 periodical publications. 
 
 g3 
 
154 
 
 will he feel ? How will he express himself? How 
 will he attempt the office of a comforter ? Does he 
 attempt it at all? Yes; but listen to his words: — 
 " Friend, you have been sorely tried. I sympathize 
 with you. This is a strange world, and many are 
 the trials with which we are all visited. Such ap- 
 pears to be the universal law of nature; and we 
 must submit to it, however reluctantly. Departed 
 friends we cannot recall, and it is needless to distress 
 ourselves with unavailinfj sorrow. Take courage. 
 Show your fortitude. Mingle in society, and you 
 will soon forget it all. Take care lest you injure 
 your health by indulging overmuch grief. At all 
 events, do accept of the condoling sympathies of your 
 friends." If this is not literally his language, is it 
 not, at least, the sum and substance of his communi- 
 cations ? and can we say, that in ninety-nine cases 
 out of a hundred, the votaries of the world furnish 
 for one another any thing better than this ? " Rouse 
 up your courage, and die like an old Roman," was 
 the advice of one of them to his dying friend. Said 
 Marmontcl to Voltaire, on his death-bed, " Think 
 of your laurels ; remember the success of your late 
 tragedy." — " You talk to me of literary glory," re- 
 plied the expiring infidel, " while I am dying in 
 frightful tortures." 
 
 It would be edifying to trace a contrast between 
 the " Consolations of Pliilosophj^'' and the '' Friendly 
 J'isit to the House of Mourning.^^ No man who 
 has read the one, will hesitate to acknowledge the 
 absolute impotence of mere reason and nature to 
 dispel the gloom which hovers around the prospects 
 of man ; and he will sigh over the vain attempts of a 
 
155 
 
 mere philosopher to alleviate the pressure of human 
 woe, and to gild the cloud which overhangs the 
 grave. No man who, with suitable feelings, peruses 
 tlie other, will hesitate to give God thanks for such 
 sources of comfort laid open to man, and to pray, 
 with fervour of soul, " May these consolations 
 abound toward me." The value of this work has 
 been already well tried by the test of extended ex- 
 periment ; and it has found a warm friend in many 
 a distracted heart which it has soothed, and in many 
 an afflicted family whom it has visited, with the balm 
 of heavenly consolation. The blessing of the Great 
 Comforter has largely accompanied it; and it has 
 been stamped by Heaven as one of the most valuable 
 treatises of Christian truth and Christian consola- 
 tion. The unction of evangelical sentiment rests on 
 it, and the spirit of genuine Christian sympathy per- 
 vades its every page. 
 
 R. B. 
 
 Paisley, July, 1823. 
 
A 
 
 FRIENDLY VISIT 
 
 TO THE 
 
 HOUSE OF MOURNING. 
 
 Your present affliction, my dear friend, demands 
 something more than the usual forms of condolence. 
 Sorrow which, like yours, cannot be prevented, may 
 yet be alleviated and improved. This is my design 
 in addressing you ; and if I seem to intrude upon 
 your retirement, let my motive be my apology. 
 Having felt how much " better it is to go to the house 
 of mourning than to the house of feasting" — having 
 received my best lessons, companions, and even com- 
 forts in it — I would administer from my little stock 
 of experience : and while I thus endeavour to assist 
 your meditations, shall rejoice if I may contribute, 
 though but a mite, to your comfort. 
 
 Were I, indeed, acquainted with the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances of your loss, I should employ particular 
 considerations ; but my present address can have only 
 a general aim — which is, to acquaint the heart, at a 
 favourable moment, with its grand concerns ; to give 
 it a serious impression wlien softened, and a hea- 
 venly direction when moved. Let us, therefore, 
 
158 
 
 sit down humbly together in this house of mourning. 
 If " the heart of the wise be found" here, your ex- 
 perience I hope will prove, that here also it is formed : 
 and let us calmly contemplate some momentous ob- 
 jects intimately connected with it, and viewed with 
 peculiar advantage from it. 
 
 Our GOD is the first of these objects : with him 
 we seldom form any close acquaintance till we meet 
 Iiim in trouble. He commands silence now, that he 
 may be heard ; and removes intervening objects, that 
 he may be seen. A Sovereign Disposer appears, 
 who, as Lord of all, hath only resumed what he 
 lent; whose will is the law of his creatures; and who 
 expressly declares his will in the present affliction. 
 We should seriously consider, that all allowed re- 
 pugnance to the determinations of his government 
 (however made known to us) is sin; and that every 
 wish to alter the appointments of his wisdom is folly, 
 — we know not what we ask. When God discovers 
 himself in any matter, those who know him " will 
 keep silence before him." Shall he that contendeth 
 with the Almighty instruct him ? How just was the 
 reply ! " Behold I am vile ! what shall I answer 
 thee .'' I will lay my hand upon my mouth." 
 
 This silent submission under trying dispensations, 
 is variously exemplified as well as inculcated in the 
 Scriptures. An awful instance of sin and sorrow 
 occurs in the family of Aaron : his sons disregarded 
 a divine appointment, and "there went out fire from 
 the Lord, and devoured them ; but x\aron held his 
 })cace." Eli, in similar circumstances, silenced his 
 heart witli this single but sufficient consideration, 
 
159 
 
 he declares consumed him, observes, " I was dumb, 
 1 opened not my mouth, because thou didst it. And 
 Job, when stripped of every comfort, blessed the 
 name of him who took away as well as gave. What- 
 ever be the nature of your calamity, may it be at- 
 tended with such an humble and child-like spirit as 
 these possessed ! 
 
 But the Sovereign Disposer is also the Compas- 
 sionate Father. Among other instances of his 
 tenderness, you may have observed the peculiar sup- 
 ports he affords under peculiar trials. Let us mark, 
 and acknowledge the hand which mingles mercy with 
 judgment, and alleviation with distress. The pa- 
 rents I have just mentioned, lost their children un- 
 der circumstances far more distressing than yours. 
 The desire of your eyes (if not the idol of your 
 heart) was, perhaps, almost a stranger: you strove 
 hard to detain it, but He, who took the young chil- 
 dren into his arms, and blessed them, took yours; 
 and takhig it, seemed to say, " What I do, thou 
 knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 
 Patiently " suffer this little one to come unto me, 
 for of such is my kingdom" composed. " Verily I 
 say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always 
 behold the face of my Father !" If I take away 
 your child, I take it to myself. Is not this infinitely 
 beyond any thing you could do for it ? Could you 
 say to it, if it had lived, " Thou shalt weep no more, 
 — the days of thy mourning are ended ?" Could 
 you show it any thing in this world like " the glory 
 of God and of the Lamb ?" Could you raise it to 
 any honour here, like " receiving a crown of life ?" 
 
 The voice of a " Father of mercies, and of a God 
 
160 
 
 of all comfort," speaks as distinctly in the death, as 
 in the birth of an infant : — " A voice was heard in 
 llamah, lamentation and bitter weeping; Rachel 
 weeping for her children, refused to be comforted, 
 because they were not." Tims saith the Lord, 
 " Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes 
 from tears ; for there is hope in thine end, saith the 
 Lord, tliat thy children shall come again to their own 
 border. It is not the will of your heavenly Father 
 that one of these little ones should perish." 
 
 Is it a pious friend that has just yielded up his 
 breath ? The same voice seems to say, ' Turn from 
 him, or rather, turn from his clay, — his faded gar- 
 ment. He himself is taken from the evil to come ; 
 he is entered into peace.' 
 
 When the able minister, the exemplary parent, 
 or the faithful partner depart, a consternation often 
 seizes the circles wliicli they blessed. We are so 
 stunned by the sudden blow, or occupied with the 
 distressing circumstances, that we scarcely can hear 
 God saying, ' Fear not ; I, even I, am he that com- 
 forteth you : I, your Father, am yet alive ; I gave 
 you your departed friend ; I sent every benefit which 
 was conveyed through him : trust me for blessings 
 yet in store; trust me with him, and with your- 
 selves.' 
 
 Whatever notions one who lives without God in 
 tlic world may form of dying, we should learn from 
 his word to regard it merely as a translation, — a 
 change, in which nothing is lost which is really valu- 
 able. As surely as we " beheve that Jesus died 
 and rose again," so surely do we believe that " them 
 also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." 
 
161 
 
 Taught of God, we should view losses, sickness, pain, 
 and death, but as the several trying stages by which 
 a good man, like Joseph, is conducted from a tent to 
 a court. Sin his disorder ; Christ his physician : 
 pain his medicine ; the Bible his support : the grave 
 his bed ; and death itself an angel, expressly sent to 
 release the worn-out labourer, or crown the faithful 
 soldier. " I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto 
 me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the 
 Lord, from henceforth : yea, saith the Spirit, that 
 they may rest from their labours, and their works 
 follow them." 
 
 But, admitting the state of your departed friend 
 to be doubtful, yet, in all cases that are really so, 
 let us cultivate honourable thoughts of God ; let us 
 remember the Faithful Creator. Righteous- 
 ness is his throne, though clouds surround it. What- 
 ever he has left obscure, we may safely leave him to 
 explain. Let us recollect, that, amidst innumerable 
 obscurities, he hath made things clear in proportion 
 as they are important; and, therefore, repeatedly 
 urges it upon our conscience, that the door is still 
 open to us ; that it is awful to stand before it unre- 
 solved ; that we must trust him to-day ; and that to- 
 morrow he will equally remove our conjectures and 
 our complaints. 
 
 Perhaps you are ready to reply, ' I have heard 
 many such things ; and I also could speak as you do, 
 if your soul were in my soul's stead : but my heart 
 and my expectations are so crushed by this blow, 
 that I can hear nothing but " thy bruise is incurable, 
 and thy wound grievous ; thou hast no healing me- 
 dicines." ' 
 
162 
 
 Beware, however, of falling into their sin who 
 " limited the Holy One of Israel." This is a charge 
 continually hrought against man, that, in his trou- 
 bles, the Source and the Resource are equally for- 
 gotten. Though affliction cometh not forth of the 
 dust, yet none saith, " Where is God my Maker, 
 who giveth songs in the night ?" Endeavour then, 
 in extremities, to recollect an All-sufficient 
 Friend — a very present Help in trouble. He, at 
 least, may add, (as he does in the passage just alluded 
 to,) " I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal 
 thee of thy wounds, saith the Lord." Cannot the 
 voice which rebuked a tempestuous sea, calm our 
 troubled spirits ? Is his hand shortened at all, that 
 he cannot " bless our latter end, like Job's, more 
 than the beginning?" Is it not the Lord " that 
 maketh poor, and maketh rich ; that bringeth low, 
 and lifteth up?" Many, whose hearts have been 
 desolate like yours, while they have looked around, 
 have at length looked upward " unto him, and been 
 lightened." A single promise has afforded them not 
 only relief, but strong consolation. 
 
 Let us, therefore, my dear friend, " turn again 
 to this stronghold as prisoners of hope : even to-day 
 can he render double to us." Let us look to Abra- 
 ham's God, and his encouragement is ours — " Fear 
 not : I am God Almighty," — as if he should say, I 
 am all-sufficient in all cases : I am enough ; " and 
 able to do exceeding abundantly above all that you 
 ask or think." I have taken away thy gourd, but 
 dost thou well to be angry ? have I left nothing for 
 thankfulness ? This world, however, cannot be your 
 home, nor its objects your consolation : they are all 
 
163 
 
 too poor for the soul of man. " Look unto me, and 
 be saved : acquaint thyself with me, and be at peace : 
 follow me, and you shall not walk in darkness, but 
 have the light of life." However dark and distress- 
 ing the present state of things may appear, " commit 
 thy fatherless children to my care, I will preserve 
 them alive ; and let thy widows trust in me." 
 
 Still the beloved object is gone, and your heart 
 follows it. You can scarcely receive counsel from 
 infinite Wisdom, or comfort from Omnipotence. To 
 every fresh encouragement you are ready to reply, 
 " Wilt thou show wonders to the dead ? Shall the 
 dead arise, and praise thee ? shall thy loving-kind- 
 ness be declared in the grave ? or thy faithfulness in 
 destruction ?" His word repeatedly assures you they 
 shall; and that " all that are in the grave shall hear 
 his voice :" but it informs you also, that He can do 
 abundantly more for the living than merely restore 
 their dead friends, or revive their fainting spirits : it 
 teaches you that He can sanctify the separation — 
 that He can give a divine life to the survivor, 
 " though dead in trespasses and sins," and insepara- 
 bly unite both in his kingdom. If the Comforter 
 could make up for the loss of Christ's bodily pre- 
 sence; yea, make it even expedient that He "should 
 go away :" how much more can he supply the place 
 of every creature ? 
 
 May this Co3IFORTER, writing his word in your 
 mind, help you to say, with a confidence highly hon- 
 ourable to himself and his gospel — ' My poor per- 
 ishing gourd is, indeed, withered a day before I ex- 
 pected it ; my broken reed is gone ; but God is left 
 " a father to the fatherless, a husband to the widow. 
 
I(i4 
 
 And now, Lord, what wait I for? truly my hope is 
 in thee." Thou canst give me, " in thine house, 
 a place and a name better than of sons and of 
 daughters ; even an everlasting name, that shall not 
 be cut oft':" and, therefore, " though the fig-tree 
 shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine, 
 yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God 
 of my salvation." ' 
 
 Once more ; let us endeavour, at such seasons as 
 these, to recognise a Gracious Monitor. When- 
 ever the Lord strikes, he speaks. Let us listen at 
 such a time as this, with humble attention, yet with 
 holy confidence ; for it is the voice of a Friend — a 
 wonderful Counsellor. Let us, with the prophet, 
 resolve to ascend the tower of observation, and ob- 
 serve *' what he will say unto us, and what we shall 
 answer when we are reproved." If with him we 
 thus watch our dispensations, " at the end, like his, 
 it shall speak." 
 
 God is continually raising up witnesses, and send- 
 ing them in his name to " sound the alarm in Sion." 
 He charges them to admonish the wise, as well as 
 the foolish virgin, to beware of slumbering, since the 
 bridegroom is at hand : and when one is called away, 
 to cry to those that remain, " Be ye also ready, for 
 in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man 
 Cometh." Some, indeed, like the sons of Lot, des- 
 perately scorn the admonition, and treat it as the 
 fear of dotage. Some, like those in the Acts, are 
 in doubt, saying one to another, " What meaneth 
 this?" and others, mocking, reply, " These men are 
 full of new wine." But truth, like a rock furiously 
 assaulted, but unshaken, remains to scorn its scorn- 
 
165 
 
 ers : and, while the witnesses continue to bear a faith- 
 ful and consistent testimony, God, sooner or later, 
 appears in vindication of their integrity and his own 
 word. Entering a careless family, he smites the 
 first-born; and, as one that will be heard, calls aloud, 
 " Awake thou that sleepest ; arise from the dead, 
 and Christ shall give thee light.'* 
 
 And is it not, my afflicted friend, an infinite mercy, 
 if, by any means, God will enter with such a light, — 
 that he will rouse such a sleeper ? — that, by his minis- 
 ter death, he will arrest the attention of him who has 
 slighted every other minister ? What patience ! what 
 long-suffering ! to take such a one apart ; bring him 
 from noise and occupation, into the secret and silent 
 chamber : speak to his heart, and seal the most impor- 
 tant truths on it by the most affecting impressions I 
 Is it not saying, " How shall I give thee up, Ephraim I 
 how shall I make thee as Admah !" Certain it is, 
 that questions, which before only reached the ear, 
 often now, like barbed arrows, remain fixed in the 
 conscience. Conscience, no longer stifled or amused, 
 discovers the Contender, and, trembling before him, 
 cries, " Thou hast chastised me, and I was chastised, 
 as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke : turn thou me, 
 and I shall be turned; for thou art the Lord my God." 
 
 This, I say, is often the case ; and should it be 
 realized in yours, as it has been in that of your pre- 
 sent Visitor — if, instead of flying for relief to every 
 object but God, you are brought humbly to his feet 
 with patient submission, serious inquiry, fervent 
 prayer, holy ^solution, and firm reliance — if, in a 
 word, by the severest stroke, the enchantment. is also 
 broken, your soul " escaped as a bird out of the snare 
 
166 
 
 of the fowler," and returned to its proper rest, — 
 what reason will you have to say, 
 
 Those we call wretched are a chosen band — 
 Amid my list of blessings infinite, 
 Stand this the foremost — ' That my heart has bled.' 
 For all I bless Thee ; — most for the severe; 
 Her death, my oivii at hand 
 
 But death at hand (as an old writer expresses it) 
 should be death in view, and lead us to consider, 
 next, 
 
 Our PROSPECTS from this house of sorrow, 
 as the inhabitants of a present and future world. 
 Many suppose that they can best contemplate the 
 present world, by crowding the " house of mirth." 
 Their whole deportment, however, shows that it makes 
 them much too giddy for serious observation ; " hav- 
 ing eyes, they see not." 
 
 Look at the deceased, and contemplate present 
 things. His days, a hand-breadth ; his beauty, con- 
 sumed like the moth-frctten garment ; his cares and 
 j)leasures, a dream; his attainments, as the grass, 
 which flourisheth in the morning, and in the evening 
 is cut down, and withereth ; his years, a tale ; his 
 strength, labour and sorrow. So soon is the whole 
 cut off and fled, that we cannot help repeating with 
 the Psalmist, Verily, every man, at his best estate, 
 is altogether vanity, — or " a vapour that appeareth 
 for a little while, and then vanisheth away." 
 
 Few, perhaps, reflect, when they follow a friend 
 to his grave, that life itself exhibits little more than 
 a funeral procession, wlicre friend follows friend, weep- 
 ing to-day, and wept for to-morrow. While we are 
 talking of one, another passes ; we are alarmed, but 
 
167 
 
 behold a third ! There is, however, reUef in this 
 very reflection : ' My friend is gone ; but am 1 weep- 
 ing as if I were to stay ? Is he sent for in the morn- 
 ing? in the afternoon I shall certainly be called.' 
 Inconsolable distress, therefore, may ungird our loins, 
 may waste our hours, and cause us to make fatal mis- 
 takes in the journey, but does not bring us forward 
 a single step towards meeting our friends in that state, 
 where present joys and sorrows will be recollected 
 only as the dream of a distempered night. 
 
 If, after many former admonitions, an enemy still 
 urged us to climb; and, as we ascended, pointed 
 "to the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of 
 them" — if our hearts have been the dupes of the van- 
 ishing prospect, and our ears eagerly heard the pro- 
 posal, " All these things will I give thee," — let us 
 now hear the voice of a Friend, calling us, though in 
 an unexpected way, " to commune with our heart, 
 and be still ;" to know, " at least in this the day of 
 our visitation, the things which belong to our peace ;" 
 and also what those things are " which hide them 
 from our eyes." 
 
 It is at such seasons as these, that we more clearly 
 detect the lies of life. It is in the house of mourn- 
 ing that what the Scripture calls lying vanities, lie 
 peculiarly naked and exposed. Let us here examine 
 what so lately dazzled us. Where now is the " pur- 
 ple and fine linen" that caught our eye? What is 
 it to fare sumptuously only for a day ? Who is he 
 that cries, " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for 
 many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
 merry?" I trust you now feel the deep misery and 
 utter ruin of that dying creature, who can say nothing 
 
168 
 
 better to his soul than this. You can scarcely help 
 crying out, ' What sottishness, what madness this, 
 in a moment so interesting as life ! — with a prospect 
 so awful as eternity !' 
 
 The truth is, God speaks variously and incessantly 
 to man respecting his prospects, both present and 
 future ; but present things seize his heart, blind his 
 eyes, stupify his conscience, and carry him away 
 captive. Now " affliction is God speaking louder,'* 
 and striving with the heart of man ; crying, as he 
 has lately in your house, ' Arise and depart, this is 
 not your rest : it is polluted, and, if you persist in 
 attempting to make a rest of it, will destroy you with 
 a sore destruction.' 
 
 Our plan, indeed, is the very reverse of his : we 
 Jove our native soil, and try to strike our roots deeper 
 and deeper into it : firmly fixed in earth, we would 
 fain draw our whole life, strength, and nourishment 
 from it. And here we should not only " fade as a 
 leaf," but, with " every tree that beareth not good 
 fruit, be hewn down, and cast into the fire," did not 
 mercy interpose. 
 
 We seldom, however, discern mercy in its first 
 approach. ' Is it mercy,' say you, ' that tears me 
 up by the roots; that cuts the fibres of sweetest 
 union ? Does it prune away the finest branches, 
 nip the loveliest buds, and cover the earth with blos- 
 soms ?' Yes, verily, since the very life of the whole 
 often depends on the removal of a part, mercy will 
 wound to heal; regard to the tree will strip off its 
 most flourishing suckers : the great Husbandman 
 will not fail to adopt the sliarpest means for the im- 
 provement of his clioiccst plants; for " every branch 
 
169 
 
 that beareth fruit, he purgcth it, that it may bring 
 forth raorc fruit." Though the Lord cause grief, 
 yet it is in compassion, and according to the multi- 
 tude of his mercies : for he doth not afflict willingly, 
 nor grieve the children of men ; but, soon or late, 
 instructs all his children to say, " I know, O Lord, 
 that thy judgments arc right, and that thou in faith- 
 fulness hast afflicted me." 
 
 Let not, therefore, the change of the present scene 
 discompose, but direct us : it changes in order to 
 present the only unchangeable one. By thus rend- 
 ing the veils which men try to throw over a dying 
 state, and discovering tekel (that is, " wanting," 
 Dan. V. 27.) written on every creature, the most 
 careless are often so roused, that they seem to aw^ake 
 and recover themselves: they appear, for a time at 
 least, to become wise to understand these things, and 
 seriously to consider their latter end. May this 
 salutary impression, however, my dear friend, never 
 be worn from your mind, but lead you habitually to 
 look from this fading, to that abiding prospect, which 
 is to be found only in the eternal world — and on 
 which it may be necessary here to drop a reflection 
 or two, 
 
 1 think you must often have remarked, that the 
 urgency and bustle of present things, not only raise 
 a cloud of dust before our future prospects, but early 
 beget a false principle, that the present life is the only 
 one. You must also have observed, that ten thou- 
 sand false maxims, which daily fly through the world, 
 take their rise from this prime falsehood. Whereas, 
 in fact, the present life, instead of being the whole, 
 is comparatively nothing — a stage, a porch, a dream,^ 
 H 12 
 
170 
 
 a weary day's journey. What is this drop to the 
 ocean before us? What this moment to eternity ? 
 As a theatre, indeed, in which God exhibits the 
 wonders of his providence and grace, or as a stage, 
 on which we are to act our parts, without any oppor- 
 tunity of repetition ; the present state is infinitely 
 grand and important ; but surely no greater imposi- 
 tion can be put upon the pilgrim, than to persuade 
 him that he is at home, or to make him forget and 
 drown his eternal interests in such a vision of the 
 night as life. 
 
 Do you not, my dear friend, sensibly perceive this ? 
 While you sit here, does not the cloud break, and 
 the mist subside ? Have you not already so realized 
 a " better, that is, an heavenly country," as to ad- 
 mire him who pitched only a tent here, but stead- 
 fastly looked for a " city that hath foundations ?" 
 Are you not ready " to take hold of the skirt of this 
 Jew," saying, " we will go with you ; for we have 
 heard that God is with you ?" 
 
 Seeing this, you only see truths ever exhibited in 
 the Scriptures, and living principles in all who are 
 " taught of God ;" for he alone can enable us to use 
 his own discoveries : and how gracious is he, when 
 he removes any object which might prevent our thus 
 seeing himself, his kingdom, and his righteousness ; 
 or whose removal may prove the occasion of our 
 seeking them ! 
 
 Just before the flood, there were doubtless among 
 them "men of renown," admired projectors; but 
 there appears to have been but one truly wise man 
 among them; one who saw, and seriously regarded 
 Jiis prospects. And he, " being warned of God of 
 
171 
 
 things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an 
 ark, to the saving of his house." Now, such a man 
 is the Christian. He feels " the workl passing away 
 with the hists thereof, but that he that doeth the 
 will of God abideth for ever." — ' I feel,' says he, 
 * that however finely they dress the pageant of this 
 world, it passeth by : to a creature like me, going, 
 hastening, such an ark is worth more than ten thou- 
 sand dying worlds. Let the gay laugh ; let " the 
 despisers wonder and perish :" with such prospects 
 before me, I must be serious. He that cannot lie, 
 has revealed the terrors as well as the glories of a 
 future state ; he speaks of " a worm that dieth not, 
 and a fire that is not quenched," as well as of " a 
 fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore." I must 
 not, I dare not, shut my eyes against these awful 
 realities. I will not sacrifice my soul to a jest, nor 
 miss the single opportunity afforded me for its salva- 
 tion. He that calls for my whole heart is worthy 
 of it; while the things which have hitherto engrossed 
 it, though they cannot satisfy, I find they can ruin it. 
 " I wiU therefore arise and go to my Father," to my 
 Saviour, who has promised to " cast out none that 
 come unto him," Yea, doubtless, " I count all 
 things but loss, that I may be found in him," the 
 true Ark, the only Refuge, which God has provided 
 for perishing sinners.' 
 
 Such a man, indeed, is the Christian: but the 
 Christian, after all, is but a man. In a state like 
 this, he needs to be continually reminded of his own 
 principles. Even the wise virgins slumber, though 
 the bridegroom is at hand. But a cry is often made 
 in the family, before that which will at midnight 
 H 2 
 
172 
 
 awaken the world: one like that in the house of 
 I'haraoli for his first-horn, or that so lately heard iu 
 yours. A cry which, while it rouses the sleeper, 
 fills his eyes with tears, and his heart with pangs, 
 often produces such views of God, of the present and 
 of the eternal state, as all other monitors would have 
 attempted in vain. 
 
 Here, then, my afflicted, but, I hope, instructed 
 friend, let us study the heavenly science of gaining 
 by losses, and rising by depressions. Leaving the 
 wilderness, like Moses, let us ascend the mount of 
 scriptural discovery, and survey a prospect of which 
 his was but a shadow. Let us look from vicissitude 
 and desolation, to what alone is " incorruptible, un- 
 defiled, and fadeth not away;" and, in the house of 
 affliction and death, let us contemplate a house " not 
 made with hands, eternal in the heavens." How 
 refreshing to look from a family bereft of its com- 
 panions and comforts, to " Mount Sion, the city of 
 the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem; to an in- 
 numerable company of angels; and to the general 
 assembly and church of the first-born, which are 
 written in heaven !" — the only family which cannot 
 be divided — the only friendship which shall not dis- 
 appoint our warmest expectations. 
 
 * Glorious as this prospect is,' perhaps you are 
 ready to reply, ' I have been long in the habit of 
 viewing it very indistinctly. My attention has been 
 so fixed on one below, that I live looking into the 
 grave rather than beyond it. My spirits are so 
 broken, my heart so wounded, and my eyes so dim 
 with watching and weeping, that I can hardly read 
 what is before me, or recollect what I read. If ae- 
 
173 
 
 rious reflection composes mc for a few moments, 1 
 soon relapse, and seem to lose sight of every support. 
 I indeed severely feel what you say concerning the 
 present life; but I view the glories of the future 
 like a starving creature, who, looking through the 
 gate of the wealthy, surveys a plenty which but in- 
 creases his anguish/ 
 
 There is, however, this difference, at least, be- 
 tween your cases — the plenty which you see is yours, 
 if you are really wilUng to accept it. You never 
 received a gift which was so freely bestowed, or so 
 suited to your necessity, as that " gift of God, which 
 is eternal life, through Jesus Christ." 
 
 In order to view this more distinctly, let us con- 
 sider the sufficiency of 
 
 Our PROVISIONS— For " Wisdom hath built 
 her house, she hath killed her beasts, she hath 
 mingled her wine, and furnished her table. She 
 also crieth upon the highest places of the city. Whoso 
 is simple, let him turn in hither; and to him that 
 wanteth understanding she saith. Come, eat of my 
 bread, and drink of the wine which I have mingled 
 — forsake the foolish and live." 
 
 Man, indeed, is daily reminded, by the thorns at 
 his feet, by the sweat of his brow, and by the dust 
 to which he is returning, that his paradise is lost : 
 but paradise regained is considered rather as an idea 
 — a subject for poetry. That book, however, whicli 
 I hope you have chosen as your best companion in 
 the house of mourning, like the vision of Jacob, not 
 only shows the heavens opened, but discovers a gra- 
 cious medium of communication and intercourse ; as 
 it were " a ladder let down from heaven to earth." 
 
174^ 
 
 A medium so suitable to the state of man, that the 
 weakest and vilest, who is liumble enough to tako 
 hold of it as God's ordinance, advance a step at a 
 time, and call for strength to proceed, may climb by 
 it from earth to heaven. 
 
 Are you, my dear friend, among the number of 
 those who stand before God, not only as stripped of 
 their comforts, but humbled under sin, as the cause 
 of all the desolations with which our fallen state 
 abounds? Open your book at the 61st chapter of 
 Isaiah. You will there perceive the most precious 
 privilege of paradise restored — the Creator descend- 
 ing to the condition and wants of the creature, and 
 once more holdincr communion with him. The 
 broken-hearted, the captive, and the mourner, are 
 here shown One mighty to save and to relieve : and 
 that such should not mistake their friend, when our 
 Lord stood up in the synagogue to read, he selected 
 this passage, and, having read it, he closed the book 
 with saying, " This day is the scripture fulfilled in 
 your ears." ' I am,* as if he had said, ' this De- 
 liverer and Desire of nations; the same yesterday, 
 to-day, and for ever. Blessed are they that mourn; 
 for they sliall be comforted: blessed are ye that 
 hunger now ; for ye shall be filled : blessed are ye 
 that weep now ; for ye shall laugh.' 
 
 I scarcely need observe, that in an address like 
 this, (a bow drawn at a venture,) formal statements 
 of the different topics would be improper; and, there- 
 fore, I shall not attempt to describe, in their order, 
 the various provisions comprehended in that scheme 
 of redemption, usually termed the GospeL It may 
 be necessary, however, to remark, that the whole is 
 
175 
 
 a proposal to the broken heart, answering all its ob- 
 jections, and meeting all its wants; and that such a 
 proposal will be cordially received, only in proportion 
 as this disposition prevails. 
 
 As it is the sick who best knows how to value a 
 physician, the debtor a surety, and the criminal a 
 pardon, so it is the awakened conscience alone which 
 will embrace a constitution calculated to humble the 
 pride, and mortify the corruptions, as well as relieve 
 the wants of man. If " without shedding of blood 
 there can be no remission," he who is earnest to 
 obtain it, will rejoice to find it, though on the ac- 
 cursed tree ; and, however the preaching of this cross 
 shall be esteemed " foolishness among them that 
 perish," such a one will not only rejoice in the pro- 
 vision, but magnify the means. " God forbid that 
 I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ; by whom the world is crucified unto me, and 
 I unto the world," 
 
 Our Lord represents the blessings of his kingdom 
 under the parable of a magnificent feast, which a 
 " King made for the marriage of his Son :" but 
 when all things were ready, and invitations repeatedly 
 sent, he points out the ruin of the world, in its indis- 
 position to accept his gracious proposal. " They 
 made light of it, and went their ways !" However 
 different their pursuits, they all agreed to reject the 
 invitation : they begin with one consent to make ex- 
 cuse: some urged reasons, and some abused the 
 messengers. But what is this more than the history 
 of human nature in every age ? 
 
 Let us, however, my dear friend, never forget that 
 the gate lately mentioned, though strait, is open; 
 
176 
 
 and that only unbelief and indisposition stand with- 
 out. Christ has declared that all things arc ready: 
 may his gracious influence, accompanying this hum- 
 bling providence, form in you a spiritual taste for 
 them ! Certain I am, that whenever this is attained, 
 his name will be " as ointment poured forth ;" it will 
 give a savour even to obsolete poetry ; — 
 
 Christ is a path — if any be misled ; 
 
 He is a robe — if any naked be; 
 
 If any chance to hunger — he is bread ; 
 
 If any be a bondman — he is free; 
 
 If any be but weak — how strong is lie ! 
 
 To dead men life he is — to sick men health ; 
 
 To blind men sight — and to the needy wealth ; 
 
 A pleasure without loss — a treasure without stealth. 
 
 To prepare the heart for the reception of this 
 treasure, as a God of order, he is pleased to use a 
 system of means ; one of which I hope he is now 
 employing for your soul's health. I love to indulge 
 hope, for affliction is a seed-time ; and let me freely 
 inquire, since God has called you aside, has spoken 
 so emphatically, and you have had leisure for serious 
 meditation, Do not the provisions of the gospel appear 
 new, sufficient, and exactly suited to your case ? Do 
 you not mark that gold, which the thief cannot steal? 
 that foundation, which no tempest can shake ? that 
 life, over which death hath no power? and that 
 peace, which the world can neither give nor take 
 away ? Docs not the religion of Jesus, that is so 
 forgotten and degraded among men, stand forward 
 now as the one tiling needful ? Does not his friend- 
 ship appear now to be " that better part, which shall 
 not be taken away," and which alone can help in 
 
177 
 
 extremities ? In the wreck of human af 
 
 it is, that God often makes his truth 
 
 causes his gospel, Hke a plank thrown out lu v.., 
 
 perishing mariner, to be properly known and prized. 
 
 " These are the great occasions which force the 
 mind to take refu<re in religion. When we have no 
 help in ourselves, what can remain, but that we look 
 up to a higher and a greater Power? and to what 
 hope may we not raise our eyes and hearts, when we 
 consider that the greatest Power is the best? 
 
 " Surely there is no (truly wise) man who, thus 
 afflicted, does not seek succour in the gospel, which 
 has brought ' life and immortality to light.' The 
 precepts of Epicurus, who teaches us to endure what 
 the laws of the universe make necessary, may silence, 
 but not content us. The dictates of Zeno, who 
 commands us to look with indifference on external 
 things, may dispose us to conceal our sorrow, but 
 cannot assuage it. Real alleviation of the loss of 
 friends, and rational tranquillity in the prospect of 
 our own dissolution, can be received only from the 
 promises of Him in whose hands are life and death ; 
 and from the assurances of another and better state, 
 in which all tears shall be wiped from the eyes, and 
 the whole soul shall be filled with joy. Philosophy 
 may infuse stubbornness, but Religion only can give 
 patience."* 
 
 In health and ease, ingenious speculations may 
 amuse and satisfy us ; but I think you now feel, with 
 me, that when " he takes away the desire of our eyes 
 with a stroke," our sorrows are too deep to be alle- 
 
 '* Johnson. 
 H 3 
 
178 
 
 viated by the mere orator or philosopher; we even 
 turn in disgust from him who would thus trifle with 
 our case ; we need a support the world cannot afford. 
 ' I faint,' says tlie wounded soul ; ' I want an Al- 
 mighty arm to lean on now ; yea, a very tender and 
 compassionate one too — one like that of the Son of 
 Man. I need a " merciful and faitliful High Priest, 
 who, having been tempted, knows how to succour the 
 tempted;" that Man of sorrows, that Brother born 
 for adversity, who, being " acquainted with grief," 
 can enter into my case, and commune with me in all 
 tlie peculiarities of my distress. I now need one, who 
 can quiet me on his own breast, and speak to me with 
 his own voice, " Weep not ; the child is not dead, but 
 slcepeth." " Weep not, thou afflicted, tossed with 
 tempest — when thou passest through the waters I 
 will be with thee." It is true, this is the land of 
 death ; but " I am the resurrection and the life :" 
 this is indeed a dry and thirsty land, where no water 
 is ; but I will lead you to " fountains of living waters ; 
 I will wipe away all tears from your eyes." ' 
 
 You are ready, perliaps, to say, ' O that I knew 
 where I might find him ! But rehgion has been with 
 me rather a case of necessity, than the high privilege 
 of communing with such a Comforter. I feel the 
 misery of living at such a distance from my heavenly 
 Friend, especially at this time, but want liberty to ap- 
 proach nearer; could I indeed repose on the bosom 
 just mentioned — " but, alas ! my understanding is 
 clouded, my faith weak, sense strong, and Satan busy 
 in filling my thoughts with false notions, difficulties, 
 and doubts, respecting a future state, and Uie efficacy 
 
179 
 
 of prayer."* Though I sec very gracious proposals 
 made to returning sinners, I tremble to venture: death 
 itself reminds me of transgression : my thoughts fly 
 every where but to God.' 
 
 We readily acknowledge, that, among other views 
 of death, it should be regarded as the wages of sin. 
 It is also natural for convinced sinners to tremble be- 
 fore a Judge who charges even angels with folly. 
 However pride may boast, or ignorance presume, he 
 who measures by the standard of a law which is so 
 spiritual as to regard a corrupt desire, will conclude 
 with the apostle, that " every mouth must be stopped, 
 and all the world become guilty before God." A 
 view of the divine character and of his own, led not 
 only a publican to smite upon his breast, as the seat 
 of apostacy and pollution, and cry, " God be merciful 
 to me a sinner," but so perfect and upright a man as 
 Job, to " abhor himself, and repent in dust and ashes." 
 I may add, that, as we become proficients in their 
 school, we shall be more ready to confess than to com- 
 plain ; we shall learn to justify God in any instance 
 of his righteous displeasure ; and humbly own that he 
 has laid upon us far less than our iniquities deserve. 
 
 But while the Christian, as a penitent, looks upon 
 him whom he has pierced, and mourns — as a believer, 
 he looks at him who was wounded for transgression, 
 and hopes. He finds it as desperate to doubt the 
 remedy as to deny the disorder. Having formerly 
 rushed headlong with the presumptuous, he now fears 
 perishing with the " fearful and unbelieving." He 
 *ees an atonement upon God's own providintr; he 
 
 • Lady Russel's Letters. 
 
180 
 
 pleads, upon God's own authority, the merit of that 
 blood which " cleanseth from all sin ;" and, by thus 
 receiving " the record wliicli God gives of his Son, he 
 sets his seal to it that God is true." 
 
 Is this, my dear friend, in any degree your case ? 
 Fearful, wandering, and wounded, as your heart is, 
 docs it yet discover a resting-place ? Instead of wish- 
 ing to evade the charge of " manifold sins and wicked- 
 ness, committed by thought, word, and deed, against 
 the Divine Majesty," is " the remembrance of them 
 grievous, and the burden of them intolerable ?" Do 
 you sincerely desire to be freed from this burden, and 
 to enter into the glorious liberty of the children of 
 God ? — that heavenly communion and rest which has 
 been mentioned. " Behold the Lamb of God which 
 taketh away the sin of the world ! Behold him exalted 
 to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and 
 forgiveness of sins !" Come to him as a sinner, and 
 touch, with humble confidence, but the '' hem of his 
 garment, and you shall be made whole." Wait upon 
 him, and you shall obtain both strength and liberty ; 
 "for if the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed." 
 
 Respecting your sense and weakness, let me add, 
 that the provision made for fallen nature, correspond- 
 ing to its various wants, is at once a character and an 
 evidence of our religion. It is a glorious peculiarity 
 of it, that its promises correspond with its precepts. 
 To use the language which best conveys its meaning, 
 " The kingdom of God is not in word only, but also 
 in power." He who enlightens the bUnd eyes, under- 
 takes to " strengthen the weak hands, and to confirm 
 the feeble knees." The Spirit of wisdom and under- 
 standing is sent, to be also a Spirit of might, of grace, 
 
181 
 
 and of supplication. It is peculiar to our Teacher, 
 that he enables as well as instructs his disciples ; he 
 first presents a prospect of the inheritance, then a 
 title to it through his death, and, together with these, 
 affords strength to raise and pursue it. Turn to the 
 36th chapter of Ezekiel, and you will find your case 
 amply provided for; but recollect that it is added, 
 " I will yet for this be inquired of, to do it for them," 
 — " Is any afflicted ? let him pray." 
 
 But I must not pass by the temptation you men- 
 tioned respecting the efficacy of prayer. You will 
 perhaps too readily object, ' Here it is that I sink. 
 I prayed earnestly for the life of the deceased. I 
 thought, at one time, I saw signs of a recovery ; but 
 the event makes me fear that I was not heard, and 
 that I have no friend now left on earth or heaven.' 
 
 A little consideration will, I hope, show you your 
 mistake, and prove that a petition may be graciously 
 accepted, when its particular object is not granted. 
 Did not our Lord declare, that his Father heard him 
 always ? Are we not told, that when, " in the days 
 of his flesh, he had offered up prayers, with strong 
 crying and tears, unto him that was able to save him 
 from death, he was heard in that he feared?" But 
 consider, I pray you, how he was heard ; certainly not 
 by having the cup taken away, (a cup at which human 
 nature, however perfect, must recoil,) but in being 
 accepted when he prayed; in being supported while 
 he drank it ; and in victoriously accomplishing his 
 grand design, through drinking it to the very dregs. 
 
 To come nearer to our own condition; we find St. 
 Paul going to Christ for deliverance from some severe 
 trial, which he calls a " tliorn in the flesh." He tells 
 
182 
 
 lis that he also was licard, and in the same way as 
 his Master ; not by being released from suffering, but 
 by receiving somctliing more honourable and advan- 
 tageous; namely, that grace, which not only supports 
 a believer through his trials, but puts a healing virtue 
 into them. 
 
 Far removed from the holy resignation of our Mas- 
 ter, we too much resemble, in our prayers, the impa- 
 tience of our children. I remember, when a sick one 
 of mine has had some medicine to take, he has called 
 loudly to me to come and assist him against those who 
 were endeavouring to force it down. He probably 
 wondered at my refusing to relieve him ; but the little 
 sufferer did not consider, though often told, that he 
 was not to be helped in that way : he did not recollect, 
 that while I tenderly felt his cry, the very compassion 
 I felt for him, and the desire I had to relieve him, 
 kept me from taking away the bitter draught. 
 
 The truth is, and it is a truth frequently told to 
 us, that our heavenly Father always sends his chil- 
 dren the things they ask, or better things. He an- 
 swers their petition in kind, or in kindness. But 
 while we think only of our ease, he consults our 
 profit : we are urgent about the body, he about the 
 soul ; we call for present comfort, he considers our 
 everlasting rest : and, therefore, when he sends not 
 the very things we ask, he hears us by sending 
 greater " than we can ask or think." 
 
 " Is any therefore afHicted? let him pray," not 
 only in the public sanctuary, or in the retired closet, 
 but let him consider tliat there is " a new and hvinir 
 way, consecrated through the veil" of a Redeemer's 
 human nature, from every scene of retirement or 
 
185 
 
 action to a mercy-seat ; where lie satisfies the long* 
 ing soul, and fills the hungry soul with goodness : 
 especially such as sit in darkness and the shadow of 
 death. Our very misery and infirmity should, in 
 defect of other preachers, point out the seat of our 
 relief; and direct such frail and depraved creatures 
 to the common Friend of the weary and heavy laden. 
 Pouring into his bosom all our complaints, we at 
 once obey his command, honour his character, and 
 obtain his assistance : " for we have not an High 
 Priest who cannot be touched by the feeling of our 
 infirmities ; but was in all points tempted like as we 
 are, yet without sin. Let us, therefore, come boldly 
 unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, 
 and find grace to help in time of need." 
 
 Is it not a time of need with you ? Endeavour, 
 at his command, to approach with a holy confidence 
 for the " supply of all your need, according to hia 
 riches in glory ;" and, at this time particularly, for 
 the illumination and comfort of his Holy Spirit. 
 He whom you supplicate, not only invites, but reasons 
 with you : " If ye, being evil, know how to give 
 good gifts unto your children ; how much more shall 
 your heavenly Father give the Floly Spirit to them 
 that ask him ?" 
 
 The religion of education and custom obtains, 
 more or less, every where ; but serious, vital, spi- 
 ritual religion, is " a case of necessity" with us all. 
 We summon our forces, we ransack our stores, " we 
 spend our money for that which is not bread, and 
 our labour for that which satisfieth not ;" we look 
 every way, and call to every thing, till each in turn 
 loudly repUes, " It is not in me." Well indeed 
 
184 
 
 will it be, if, after all our fruitless efforts, we are 
 brought to feel, that the provisions of the gospel 
 are the only bread for a hungry soul, the only balm 
 for a wounded heart. However foreign, my dear 
 friend, these truths were from your consideration, 
 when we first sat down together, if it shall please 
 Him, wlio " commanded the light to shine out of 
 darkness," to shine into your heart, and effectually 
 discover the " exceeding riches of his grace" in these 
 provisions, then, though you sit weeping over your 
 loss, we are assured, from unquestionable authority, 
 that angels are rejoicing for your unspeakable gain. 
 We are certain, also, that not only every real friend 
 will cry, " This day is salvation come to the house 
 where we lately wept," but that, drying your tears, 
 you yourself will be compelled to express your grate- 
 ful sense of the correction you now deplore, and sing, 
 with a companion and fellow-proficient in the school 
 of affliction — 
 
 Father, I bless thy gentle hand. 
 How kind was thy chastising rod, 
 That forced my conscience to a stand, 
 And brought my wandering soul to God ! 
 Foolish and vain, I went astray, 
 Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord : 
 1 left n)y guide, — I lost my way ; 
 But now I love and keep thy word. 
 
 And here suffer me to drop a word or two respect- 
 ing these 
 
 Our COMPANIONS in the house of mourning. 
 Society is peculiarly pleasant when we are benighted 
 on a journey : and especially tliat of a citizen of the 
 place to which we are going. It is encouraging to 
 
185 
 
 travel with those who are convinced, that if " they 
 are chastened of the Lord," it is " that they should 
 not he condemned with the world." " Blessed are the 
 poor in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." 
 Here they are educated for it. Here they sit at 
 the foot of the cross, and receive lessons of faith and 
 patience, of humility and temperance. 
 
 " Blessed also are the pure in heart ; for they 
 here see God," who never so unveils himself as in 
 seasons of distress. In sight of his character and 
 word, they bow before his providence, yea, trust him 
 in the stroke ; for hope is made to arise here, as a 
 light in darkness. Here the spiritual husbandman 
 is taught to go " forth weeping, and bearing the 
 precious seed of faith and love, penitence and prayer ; 
 assured that he shall come again with joy, bringing 
 his sheaves with him." Here also the heavenly 
 scholar acquires " the tongue of the learned, that 
 he should know how to speak a word in season to 
 him that is weary." And here the true soldier of 
 Jesus Christ is found " fighting the good fight of 
 faith, and laying hold of eternal life," in the very 
 valley and shadow of death. He is here instructed 
 to " cast down imafrinations," those reasonings which 
 peculiarly infest and darken the house of mourning ; 
 and taking the shield of faith, and the sword of the 
 Spirit, he wrestles not only with flesh and blood, 
 but with principalities and powers : a mighty though 
 secret conflict, which God shall one day declare to 
 the world ; and which, when explained, will leave its 
 most celebrated heroes " silent in darkness." 
 
 " Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock," 
 for in this house they all have left the prints of their 
 
186 
 
 feet. Here stood Jacob weeping over his beloved 
 Rachel ; and here Aaron deplored his sons. Here 
 we trace the steps of David going up to his chamber, 
 and crying with a loud voice, " Would God I had 
 died for thee, O Absalom, my son ! my son !" and 
 those of Ezekiel, who, forbidden to cry, silently re- 
 signed " the desire of his eyes" to the stroke. But 
 enumeration is vain : hither came all the sons of God, 
 the only-begotten not excepted; for Jesus himself 
 stood and wept at the grave of a friend. 
 
 With such company, is it not far " better to go 
 to the house of mourning, than to the house of 
 feasting ?" I knew one of these : a man who had 
 seen affliction by a rod, like yours ; a man who walked 
 and wept in solitude, but with no expectation of being 
 overheard. There is something sacred in grief, and 
 we cannot listen to its effusions with too much can- 
 dour : great candour, indeed, is here required; but, 
 if aflPorded, it may procure you at least a companion, 
 
 as you pass through this vale of tears. 
 
 # * * * * # 
 
 • * * u c gg^ ^]-jgg ^jp way-marks.* 
 — I desire here to set them up, and to record the 
 severest of my visitations in the house of my pil- 
 grimage. Lord, prepare me for the next ! 
 
 " I perceive I could not have properly sympa- 
 thized with a friend in a similar case before this 
 stroke. I could not have understood it. 
 
 " I have at times so felt the importance of eternal 
 things, that 1 thought the loss of any present comfort 
 would be tolerable : but I had no idea how much de- 
 pended on being ready when the Son of Man came 
 in such a providence. 
 
187 
 
 " I feel I now stand in the right position to see 
 the world and the word. They both appear under 
 aspects entirely new. 
 
 " When I find ' my joys packed up and gone,' 
 my heart slain, the delight of my eyes taken away — 
 when I recollect who is gone before her, who is fol- 
 lowing, and what remains for the world to offer, — my 
 heart cries, ' I loathe it, I would not live alway ;' — I 
 thank God that I am also to go. 
 
 " I perceive I did not know how much my life 
 was bound up in the life of a creature. When she 
 went, nothing seemed left. One is not ; and the 
 rest seem a few thin and scattered remains. 
 
 " And yet how much better for my lamb to be 
 suddenly housed — to slip unexpectedly into the fold 
 to which I was conducting her, than remain exposed 
 here ! perhaps become a victim ! 
 
 " I cried, ' O Lord, spare my child ! ' — He did : 
 but not as I meant. He snatched it from danger, 
 and took it to his own home. 
 
 " I have often prayed, ' Lord, soften my heart ! 
 humble my pride ! destroy my levity ! ' — I knew 
 enough of his way to fear the means ; and he has, 
 in mercy towards me, regarded my soul more than 
 my feelings. 
 
 " I prayed earnestly for her life. Duty compelled 
 me to say, ' Thy will be done,' — but I meant nothing. 
 
 " O my God, how long hast thou come ' seeking 
 fruit on this tree !' how much hast thou done to cul- 
 tivate it ! Shall it remain fruitless ? Shall it be cut 
 down after all? 
 
 " My passions forged impressions that she Would 
 live ; but I now plainly perceive I am called to re- 
 gard God, and not impressions. 
 
188 
 
 *' I have been long like one in a fever, attended 
 at times with a strong delirium : I begged hard that 
 I might not be bled, but he meant a cure, and pierced 
 my heart. 
 
 " O how slender, how brittle, the thread on which 
 hang all my earthly joys ! 
 
 " I wish ever to be asking, ' Am I ready, should 
 he send again and take , or , or my- 
 self?' ' Setting my house in order' will not make 
 death approach sooner ; but that it will render his 
 comhig much easier, I feel by sad experience. 
 
 " When I pass by the blaze of dissipation and 
 intemperance, I feel a moment's relief. I say to my 
 heart, ' Be still' — at least she is not left to follow 
 these ic/nes fatui. How much better is even the 
 grave for ray T , than ' the end of those things !' 
 
 " It is vain for me to wish, as I have done, to 
 leave the world, and go to my Father, that I might 
 inquire into the whole of the case ; the reasons, the 
 steps, the issue, &c. In a short time I shall : but 
 lie says enough now, if I have ears to hear. 
 
 " In the meantime help me, O my God and Fa- 
 ther, to recollect, that I received this drop of earthly 
 comfort from a spring which still remains ! Help 
 me to feel that nothing essential is altered ! ' for 
 with tlice is the fountain of life.' Part of myself is 
 
 already gone to thee, help what remains to follow." 
 
 #**### * # 
 
 If this humble attempt to improve your affliction 
 has been attended with any success, you will readily 
 admit a few concluding liints with respect to 
 
 Our DUTY in such circumstances. And one 
 
189 
 
 of tbo first and principal duties of the state is, as 
 hscli been expressed, to acknowledge God in it. 
 It was charged upon some, that they " returned not 
 to liim that smote them, nor sought the Lord" in 
 tlieir distress. On the contrary, the clear apprehen- 
 sion Job had of a divine hand in his afflictions, is as 
 instructive as his patience under them. While 
 grief rent his mantle, faith fell down and worshipped 
 — " The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away; 
 blessed be the name of the Lord." Let us learn 
 from him never to lose sight of the Author, by an 
 undue regard to the mere circumstances of our loss. 
 We may think and speak of the symptoms and 
 stages of the late removal ; of the physicians, of the 
 remedies, &c. in their supposed right or wrong ap- 
 plication ; but not so as to forget, that an unerring 
 Providence presided over the whole, yea, actually 
 conducted every part on reasons as righteous as they 
 are inscrutable. 
 
 Whatever may appear to us peculiar in the sick 
 chamber, the whole was but God's intended method 
 of removing one who had lived his full (that is, his 
 appointed) time. " Seeing his days are determined, 
 the numbers of his months are with thee ; thou hast 
 appointed him his bounds, which he cannot pass." 
 Instead of fixing our attention upon means and crea- 
 tures, of which we know so very little, let us turn 
 to him who wrought by these instruments, and merely 
 effected his own determinations by them. " Cease 
 from man; for wherein is he to be accounted of?" 
 Let not the creature hide the Creator, nor present 
 things remain the fatal screen of the future ; but in 
 every occurrence mark the great Cause, " of whom, 
 
190 
 
 and through whom, and to wliom, are all things — 
 wlio numhercth tlic very liairs of our head, and with- 
 out whom even a sparrow falls not to the ground." 
 
 While others, therefore, are wandering without 
 an ohjcct, and hereaved without a comforter, yea, 
 are going to their worst enemy for relief, let us en- 
 deavour to say, with Peter, " Lord, to whom shall 
 we go, hut to thee ?" Consider the great Physician 
 as now proposing a most serious question to your 
 conscience: " Wilt thou be made whole ?" May 
 the language of your heart be that of the apostle's: 
 " If by any means." Then, though seemingly 
 swallowed up of this grief, like Jonah, you shall find 
 a resource in it, and finally be preserved by it. This 
 dart, like that which once pierced an imposthume in 
 battle, shall bring health with its wound, and you 
 shall be enabled, with many that are gone before 
 you, to say, " The Lord hath chastened me sore ; 
 but he hath not given me over unto death." 
 
 Duty also directs you to moderate your grief. 
 Our heavenly Father, who " knows our frame, and 
 remembers we are but dust," allows us to mourn 
 when he afflicts us : he often, in his providence, calls 
 us to it, and charges us to " weep with them that 
 weep." But he admonishes us also of a danger on 
 each hand — " My son, despise not thou the chasten- 
 ing of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of 
 him." If we seriously profess Christianity, our 
 very profession implies, not only a subjection to our 
 Lord's will, but that we have special resources in our 
 affliction : several of which have been already named. 
 That, among others of our privileges, there is " a 
 peace from God, which passeth all understanding, to 
 
191 
 
 keep our hearts and minds" through life and death : 
 a.ud that we have many reasons for " not sorrowing, 
 as others who have no hope." Besides which, 
 Christians have a post of honour to maintain — a high 
 calling to demonstrate and commend. We shall, 
 like the pilot in a storm, he brought to our princi- 
 ples ; and, " as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," 
 should prove that we have them not now to learn. 
 
 On the contrary, there is such a thing as nursing 
 and cherishing our grief; employing a " busy, med- 
 dling memory to muster up past endearments," and 
 personate a vast variety of tender and heart-rending 
 circumstances. There is a tearing open the wound 
 afresh by images and remembrances, and thereby 
 multiplying those pangs which constitute the very- 
 bitterness of death itself. Our melancholy exceed- 
 ingly affects this voluntary torture : it seeks expedi- 
 ents, and will listen to the most unjust and aggra- 
 vated accusations which can approach a tender con- 
 science respecting the deceased. But conscience 
 should rather be concerned to repress such a dispo- 
 sition. It is a temptation. It desperately strives 
 to retain what God has determined to remove : in 
 some cases, it seeks to penetrate an abyss he forbids 
 even conjecture to explore : and, while it unfits the 
 mourner for the pressing duties of his station, it 
 leads to that " sorrow of the world which worketh 
 death" to his body, soul, and Christian character. 
 How different and superior the sentiments of David ! 
 — " His servants said unto him. What thing is this 
 that thou hast done ? Thou didst fast and weep 
 for the child, while it was alive ; but when the child 
 was dead, thou didst rise and eat bread. And he 
 
19'2 
 
 said, While the child was yet alive, 1 fasted and 
 wept : for I said, who can tell whether God will be 
 gracious to me, that the child may live : but now, ho 
 is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can I bring him 
 back again ? I shall go to him, but he shall not 
 return to me." 
 
 Present circumstances also admonish you to know 
 YOUR OPPORTUNITY ; and to improve this season 
 as peculiarly favourable for spiritual advancement. 
 There is a tide in the concerns of religion : the 
 Scripture calls it the " day of visitation," and sends 
 us to the stork and to the swallow for instruction 
 respecting it. Your heart is now soft, its fascina- 
 tion withdrawn, and the call loud and affecting ; 
 endeavour, therefore, to take the benefit of a remedy 
 you feel so expensive. 
 
 If, in a sense, " smitten friends are angels sent 
 on errands full of love," instead of weeping over 
 their tombs, let us listen to the voice which properly 
 arises from them; especially if it be our privilege to 
 bury one, who, like Abel, " being dead, yet speak- 
 eth," and who would be ready to say to his mourners, 
 " Weep not for me, but for yourselves, and for your 
 children." " I have fought the good fight, I have 
 finished my course, I have kept the faith," and re- 
 ceived my crown. I cannot now come to weep with 
 you, but you may ascend and rejoice with me, where 
 there is " no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; 
 for the former things are passed away." If you 
 truly love me, prepare to follow me. If you ear- 
 nestly wish to ^see me again, seek not the living 
 among the dead, but arise and become a " follower 
 of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the 
 
 1 
 
193 
 
 promises." Take that heavenly lamp, which " shin- 
 eth as a light in a dark place ;" walk humbly by it, 
 " till the day dawn, and the day-star arise in your 
 heart." Haste, my beloved, towards the things 
 which " eye hath not seen ;" and ere the eternal day 
 break, and the present shadows flee away, " run 
 with patience the race set before you, looking unto 
 Jesus." How will my cup overflow, to meet you 
 among those who daily " come hither out of great 
 tribulation ; and, having washed their robes in the 
 blood of the Lamb, serve him day and night in his 
 temple !" 
 
 Embrace every method God hath recommended 
 for maintaining communion with him, and obtaining 
 relief from him. The various ordinances of his 
 house, the encouragements of his word, the society 
 of his children, and especially prayer. Often speak 
 to Him who " seeth in secret, and is nigh unto all 
 that call upon him," though, with the woman of 
 Canaan, you can only say, " Lord help me." Not 
 only a high commendation, but a miracle followed 
 her request. She urged it under the greatest dis- 
 couragements, but you have both a command and a 
 promise : " Call upon me in the day of trouble : I 
 will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." 
 
 And while you search the Scriptures, and attend 
 the church, you will at once be instructed and encour- 
 aged, by marking in both, those footsteps which we 
 lately considered. They are, indeed, not so explicit 
 in the latter ; but attention to the scriptural account 
 of the Christian character, will greatly assist you in 
 distinguishing real Christians from those who, equally 
 forward and corrupt, have at all times assumed their 
 I U 
 
194 
 
 name, and mixed in their society, to their grief and 
 scandal. Leavin<y these unhappy exceptions to their 
 proper Judge, follow the unerring rule he has put into 
 your hand, and those who walk by it ; particularly 
 such as are your companions in affliction. You will 
 see them passing before you, with not only the same 
 wounds in their hearts, but almost the same words in 
 their lips. Study their course ; mark their progress ; 
 observe how they held his arm, pleaded at his throne, 
 reposed in his bosom, and magnified his truth, who 
 walks with them in a furnace, which, like that of the 
 three children, burns nothing but their bonds. 
 
 But " who is sufficient for these things ?" A 
 fourth direction will serve for a reply. To improve 
 the opportunity you discern, and to keep pace with 
 those you approve, seek divine assistance ; or, as 
 St. Paul hatli expressed it, " be strong in the grace 
 that is in Christ Jesus." If, on the one hand, 
 religion has vast' proposals to make ; on the other, to 
 be truly religious is a mighty aim, and can be accom- 
 plished only " through Him that loved us." Oppos- 
 ing Omnipotence to difficulty was their secret, who 
 so gloriously overcame a world that was not worthy 
 of them. Read their history in the 11th chapter of 
 the Hebrews, and see what an implicit reliance, called 
 • \itli, " a seeing Him who is invisible," will perform. 
 That invalua])le record seems to say, ' Our fathers 
 trusted in thee : they trusted, and thou didst deliver 
 them : they trusted in thee, and were not confounded.' 
 
 We are, indeed, called to aim and to act, and 
 
 1 ivc the greatest promises annexed to the endeavour : 
 
 ))ut are as frecjuently reminded, that " we are not 
 
 s\ifficient of ourselves to think any thing as of our- 
 
195 
 
 selves, but that our sufficiency is of God." Christ 
 encourages no one to advance on the ground of his 
 own strength, any more than on that of his own 
 desert : he is as jealous of the power of his arm, as 
 of the merit of his blood. He admitted infirmity 
 and misery to be presented as a complaint, but never 
 as an objection. 
 
 I have observed it not uncommon for this to be a 
 season of peculiar temptation : a spiritual enemy 
 stands ready to defeat every spiritual opportunity ; 
 but our help is near, and our example, in such con- 
 flicts, excellent. " For this thing I besought tlie 
 Lord thrice : and he said unto me, My grace is 
 sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect 
 in weakness." May you be enabled to add with the 
 apostle, " Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory 
 in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may 
 rest on me." 
 
 Again, that you may seek cheerfully this assistance, 
 
 REGARD YOUR ENCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 To recover our alienated minds, and gain our con- 
 fidence, God meets us in a way suited to our neces- 
 sities, and to our fears. Resist, as the vilest temp- 
 tation, any doubt of that " Good-will to man," which 
 was sung at the Redeemer's birth. What hatli 
 God not done in order to commend his love ? By 
 every expression of tender concern, he, in the person 
 of a "Man of sorrows," invites the guilty, the weary, 
 the trembling, and tlic tempted, to come unto him ; 
 assuring them that lie will neither " break the bruised 
 reed, nor quench the smoking flax." 
 
 If God is love, " Christ is God stooping to the 
 senses, and speaking to the heart of man ;" ever 
 I 2 
 
196 
 
 saying, " Look to my cross, take my yoke, and lean 
 upon my arm, and ye shall find rest." He soui^'ht 
 the house of mourning, to comfort the sisters of 
 Lazarus ; he met a widow following her only child, 
 and " when the Lord saw her, he had compassion 
 on her, and said unto her. Weep not." May he 
 meet you at this time, my dear friend, with consola- 
 tions wliich none hut himself can afford ; and tlien, 
 at the very grave, shall that saying be brought to 
 pass, " Death is swallowed up in victory." Let such 
 fear as despise our heavenly Friend, our Prospects, 
 Provisions, Companions, and sense of Duty : God 
 with us, and all things in God, is light in darkness, 
 life in death. The words which revived him who 
 styles himself " your brother and companion in tri- 
 bulation, and in the kingdom and patience of Jesus 
 Christ," remain to cheer a solitude darker (if possi- 
 ])Ie) than his : " Fear not ; I am the first and the 
 last : I am he that liveth, and was dead ; and, behold, 
 I am alive for evermore, Amen ; and have the keys 
 of hell and of death." 
 
 To conclude : The late event solemnly repeats its 
 Author's charge, " Be ye also ready." 
 
 Your friend is gone : your following is certain ; it 
 may be sudden — it may be next. But should it take 
 place this night, and find you provided with nothing 
 better for the change, than the miserable subterfuges 
 of the profime, or the scarcely less miserable supports 
 of the formal, what an alarm, if you are not left to the 
 most attecting delusion or stupidity, will it occasion ! 
 What an awful transition, to pass from the Saviour 
 to the Judge ! without love to him ; without even an 
 H'(juaintance with him; unwillinfj, unreconciled, un- 
 
197 
 
 renewed ! — and to him who has so often invited you, 
 warned you, and, at times, afFected your conscience 
 with the truths we have been considering ! — What a 
 subject for eternal reflection ! " You would not come 
 to him, that you might have life !" 
 
 God forbid, however, that this should be your 
 case ! I only suppose it, lest it should : and it is too 
 common to render the supposition improper. From 
 such a danger we cannot be too secure ; and, there- 
 fore, having lately seen how soon " the night cometh, 
 when no man can work," let us seek to-day, in the 
 redemption which is in Christ Jesus, that peace and 
 safety which you must be conscious can never be 
 found out of it, and which it may be too late to seek 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Some things belonging to our important change 
 are wisely hid from us. Nothing, however, is more 
 plain than that it is near, and therefore demands our 
 most serious attention ; that it is finally decisive, and 
 therefore warns us to watch against those errors 
 which eternity cannot rectify ; and that the hour is 
 uncertain, and therefore calls us to stand prepared. 
 With our loins girded, and our lights burning, may 
 we thus wait for our Lord ! 
 
 Impressed with such views, I have often wished 
 to take the afflicted by the hand, and lead them to a 
 Resource which their passions have obscured. I 
 have wished them to see, that the Christian hope is 
 then most alive and full of immortality, when every 
 other hope perishes. These wishes, and the request 
 of a friend, who was solicitous to obtain something 
 of this kind, more compendious than he had yet seen, 
 
198 
 
 have drawn from me some imperfect hints. Imper- 
 fect, however, as they arc, like a few words, presented 
 by the road-side, to the eye of a weary traveller, they 
 may afford you some present direction and relief. 
 And should He, who is pleased to employ the feeblest 
 means in his greatest work, conduct you by them, 
 though but a single step on your way, towards a 
 morning icithout clouds — a house without mourning^ — 
 the service of your affectionate friend will obtain a 
 high reward. 
 
A WELCOME TO THE PLAGUE, 
 A FAREWELL TO LIFE. 
 
 AND 
 
 THE ANGELICAL LIFE, 
 
 REV. SAMUEL SHAW. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 Christian Readers, 
 
 It is now more than seven months since it pleased 
 the holy and wise God to visit my house with the 
 plague, when some dear and Christian friends from 
 London were with me, whereby he gently touched, 
 and gave warning to myself and whole family, con- 
 sisting then of eight souls, but Ciilled away hence 
 only three members of it, namely, two tender babes, 
 and one servant ; besides my beloved sister, and a 
 child of my precious friend, that man of God, Mr. 
 G. C. since also translated, who were of those citi- 
 zens that visited me. You will easily believe, that 
 I can have no pleasure to rake into the ashes of the 
 dead, nor to revive the taste of that wormwood and 
 gall which was then given me to drink : and yet I 
 see no reason but that I ought to take pleasure in 
 the pure and holy will of God, which always proceeds 
 by the eternal rules of almighty Love and Goodness, 
 though the same be executed upon my dearest crea- 
 ture-comforts, and grate ever so much upon my 
 sweetest earthly interest : yea, I see all reason in the 
 world why I should give to God the glory of his 
 I 3 
 
202 
 
 attributes and works before all the world, and endea- 
 vour that some instruction may accompany that 
 astonishment which, from me and my house, hath 
 t;one out and spread itself far and near. I will not 
 undertake to make any physical observations upon 
 this unaccountable disease, nor to vindicate myself 
 either from that great guilt that is charged upon me, 
 as if I were a sinner above all that dwell in this 
 country, or from those many false and senseless 
 aspersions that have been cast upon my behaviour 
 during this visitation ; but I do freely commit myself 
 " to him that judgeth righteously," and pray with 
 the Psalmist, " Let not them that wait on thee, O 
 Lord God of hosts, be ashamed for my sake : let not 
 those that seek thee be confounded for my sake, O 
 God of Israel !" Neither do I purposely undertake, in 
 this Preface, to reconcile the providences of the most 
 wise God to his promises, or to solve the seeming 
 difference between the words of his mouth and the 
 language of his hands, between which I have only 
 suspected some kind of opposition, but have experi- 
 enced an excellent harmony : — " In very faithfulness 
 hast thou afflicted me." Whence arise all these 
 uncharitable censures with which the afflicted soul is 
 apt to charge both himself and his God too ? Spring 
 they not certainly from these two grand causes, 
 namely, a misapprehension of the nature of God, and 
 of the nature of good and evil ? Let the studious 
 and pious reader search and judge. If ever, there- 
 iorc, you would be established in your minds in a day 
 of affliction, — 1. Labour to be rio;htlv informed con- 
 <crning the nature of God. Away with those low 
 and gross apprehensions of God, whereby your car- 
 
W3 
 
 iial fancies ascribe to God such a kind of indulgence 
 towards his children as you bear towards yours, which 
 indeed no way agrees to his nature. His good-will 
 towards his children is a solid, wise, and holy dispo- 
 sition, infinitely unhke to our human affections. — 
 2. Labour to be rightly informed concerning the na- 
 ture of good and evil. Judge not the good or evil of 
 things by their agreeableness or disagreeableness to 
 your fleshly taste or carnal interest, but by the rela- 
 tion they have to the supreme Good. The greatest 
 prosperity in the world is no farther good, than as it 
 tends to make us partakers of God ; and the greatest 
 affliction may thus be really good also. But that by 
 the by. My design is to justify and glorify Infinite 
 Wisdom, Righteousness, Goodness, and Holiness, 
 before all men. O blessed God ! who makes a seem- 
 ing dungeon to be indeed a place of refreshment; 
 who brings his poor people into a wilderness, on pur- 
 pose there to speak comfortably to them ! Be of 
 good cheer, O my soul ; he hath taken away nothing 
 hut what he gave ; and in lieu of it hath given thee 
 that which shall never be taken away — the first-fruits 
 of life, instead of those whom the first-born of death 
 iiath devoured. But why do I say devoured ? Doth 
 not that truly live at this day, which was truly lovely 
 in those darlings ? Didst thou, O my fond heart, 
 love beauty, sweetness, ingenuity, incarnate ? And 
 canst thou not love it still in the Fountain, and enjoy 
 in it a more immediate and compendious way? Thy 
 body, indeed, cannot taste sweetness in the abstract, 
 nor see beauty except it be exhibited in matter ; but 
 canst not thou, O my soul, taste the uncreated good- 
 ness and sweetness except it be embodied, and have 
 
504 
 
 some material thing to commend it to thy palate? 
 Be ashamed that thou, being a spirit as to thy con- 
 stitution, art no more spiritual in thy affections and 
 operations. Dost thou with sadness reflect upon 
 those sweet smiles, and that broken rhetoric, with 
 which those babes were wont to entertain thee? 
 1. Consider duly what real contentment thou hast lost 
 in losing those. For what were those things to thy 
 real happiness ? Thou hast lost nothing, but what 
 it was no solid pleasure, nor true felicity, to enjoy — 
 nothing but what the most sensual and brutal souls 
 do enjoy as much as thou. 2. Be ashamed rather 
 that thou didst enjoy them in such a gross and un- 
 spiritual manner. Art thou troubled because any 
 earthly interest is violated ? Rather be ashamed that 
 thou hadst and cherishedst any such interest. 
 
 But pardon me, courteous readers, this digressive 
 soliloquy ; and now suffer me patiently, whilst I speak 
 something by way of admiration, something by way 
 of observation, and something by way of exhortation. 
 
 I. Let me call upon men and angels to help me 
 in celebrating the infinite and almighty grace and 
 goodness of the eternal and blessed God — 
 
 Who enabled me to abide the day of his coming, 
 to stand when he appeared, and made me willing to 
 suffer him to sit as a refiner of silver in my house — 
 
 Who carried me above all murmurings against, I 
 had almost said all remembrance of, those instruments 
 that conveyed the infection to me — 
 
 Who reconciled my heart to this disease, so that 
 it seemed no more grievous, noisome, or scandalous 
 than any other — 
 
 Who subdued rae to, I had almost said brought 
 
205 
 
 me in love with, this passage of the divine will. I 
 can remember (alas ! that I can say little more, but 
 that I do remember) how my soul was overpowered, 
 yea, and almost ravished with the goodness, holiness, 
 and perfection of the will of God ; and verily judged 
 it my happiness and perfection, as well as my duty, 
 to comply cheerfully with it, and be moulded into it — 
 
 Who gave me a most powerful and quick sense of 
 the plague of a carnal heart, self-will, and inordinate 
 love of the creature ; convincing me, that those were 
 infinitely worse than the plague in the flesh ; so that 
 I did more pity, than I could be pitied by, my ordi- 
 nary visitors — 
 
 Who wonderfully preserved me from the assaults 
 of the devil ; never let him loose so much as to try 
 his strength upon my integrity, or drive me to despon- 
 dency, or to any uncharitable conclusions concerning 
 my state — 
 
 Who enabled me to converse with his love and 
 mercy in the midst of his chastenings, to see his 
 shining and smiling face through this dark cloud ; 
 yea, kept up clear and steady persuasions in my soul, 
 that I was beloved of him, though afflicted by him — 
 
 Who knew my soul in adversity, visited me when 
 I was sick and in prison, refreshed, strengthened, 
 comforted my inner man, in a marvellous manner and 
 measure, and made me appear to myself never less 
 shut up than when shut up. Oh, would to God I 
 might be never worse than when I was shut up of the 
 plague ! The not removing of that affliction-frame 
 I shall account a greater blessing, and a more proper 
 mercy, than the removing of that afflicted state — 
 
 Who cleared up my interest in his Son, strength- 
 
206 
 
 cned my evidences of his love, satisfied and assured 
 my soul of its happy state, more than at any time — 
 more than at all times formerly. I had clearer and 
 surer evidences of divine grace in that patient, self- 
 denving, self-submitting frame of spirit, than in all 
 the duties that I ever performed : the valley of tears 
 i)rought me more sight of my God, more insight into 
 ?nyself, tlian ever the valley of visions, all duties and 
 ordinances, had done. When the Sun of Righteous- 
 ness arose upon my soul, and chased away all the 
 mists and fogs of self-will and creature-loves, then 
 also did all dark and dismal fears, all gloomy doubt- 
 ings, most sensibly flee before him — 
 
 Who supplied my family from compassionate 
 triends, with all things needful for food and medicine. 
 The Lord return it seven-fold into their bosoms — 
 
 Who maintained my health in the midst of sick- 
 ness, in the midst of so great a death. I do not 
 remember that either sorrow of mind, or sickness of 
 body, ever prevailed so much upon me, during three 
 months' seclusion, as to hinder me from ray ordinary 
 study, repast, devotions, or my necessary attendance 
 upon my several infected rooms, and administering 
 to the necessities of my sick. These ensuing Dis- 
 courses were then composed ; which doth at least 
 argue, that, through grace, this mind was not altoge- 
 ther discomposed, nor body either — 
 
 Who preserved me, and gave me not up to death. 
 l''or I judge, that I was personally visited with the 
 ]ilague, though not with the sickness — 
 
 Who hath given me a sincere and settled resolu- 
 tion, and vehement desire, to live eiitirely on and to 
 himself: which I account to be the only life of a 
 
207 
 
 soul, and only worthy to be called a living. Grant 
 mc this prayer, O most blessed and gracious God, 
 tor the sake of my only and dear Redeemer ! 
 
 Thou, O Lord God, who art witness to all my 
 thoughts, and words, and works, knowest that in 
 truth and soberness, I publish these things to the 
 world, not to advance the reputation of my own silly 
 name, or to be admired of my fellow-creatures ; but 
 for the glory of thy holy name, to beget a good lik- 
 ing of so gracious a Creator in all thy poor creatures, 
 who are prejudiced against thee and thy holy service, 
 and to strengthen the hearts of thy servants to a 
 most firm and lasting adherence to thee, even in the 
 greatest extremities ; that thou mayest be admired 
 in thy saints, and glorified for giving such power, and 
 grace, and comfort unto men. And " O that men 
 would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his 
 wonderful works in and to the children of men !" 
 
 IL Suffer me to make a short observation of 
 some few memorable passages, out of many : possi- 
 bly they may be for the future, though they should 
 not be for your present advantage. The Lord direct 
 you to make a right application of them,' according 
 to the emergencies of life. 
 
 L I do thankfully record the gracious design of 
 the holy and wise God, in that he hath secretly pre- 
 pared my heart, though at the time I knew not 
 particularly for what. I remember that, for some 
 few weeks before, I had found a more than ordinary 
 largeness and readiness of soul ; particularly, that I 
 had been studying the excellent mystery, and im- 
 bibing the strengthening marrow, of that famous text, 
 '' God is love ;" from '.vhcnce I had importunately 
 
208 
 
 pressed upon myself the reasonableness of complying 
 sweetly, cheerfully, universally, with the will of God, 
 little dreaming then of the plague, which was almost 
 a hundred miles oflP from me. O blessed and mer- 
 ciful God, who of old didst make Abraham, and yet 
 makcst liis and thy children, to follow thee, tliough 
 they know not well whither ! 
 
 2. In the next place, I count it most worthy of 
 my observation, (not unworthy of your consideration,) 
 that it pleased God to seize upon my family in the 
 beginning of harvest ; a harvest which I had too 
 earnestly expected, too carefully provided for, and 
 promised myself too liberally from : which folly and 
 vanity of mind, this visitation, thus timed, did as 
 clearly convince me of, (methought,) as if I had seen 
 a hand-writing upon the wall. I am ashamed, yet 
 I will not hesitate to confess before all the world, 
 (God grant it may be for the seasonable and effectual 
 warning of any,) that my vain mind was over-plea- 
 santly, not to say eagerly, drawn out towards secular 
 and worldly, however necessary employments and 
 concerns : and thus I was rebuked. 
 
 Upon txamination I find, that verily I have been 
 guilty concerning my children. I do not remember 
 that ever any man reproved me for immoderate lov- 
 ing of them, or could for any indulgence that could be 
 by human eyes discerned; but O ! I see and feel it 
 as a sword at my heart, that I loved them not so 
 purely, spiritually, and properly in God, as I ought 
 to have done. Philosophy will easily prove it to be 
 a more tolerable vanity to dote upon a child than 
 upon a kingdom: but Christian divinity doth abun- 
 
209 
 
 dantly demonstrate all creature-fondness unreasonable 
 and intolerable. 
 
 3. The next thing that I will record, shall be the 
 difficult task that I found to maintain a right humble, 
 and a right cheerful frame, at the same time. O 
 how oft and how long did I labour under this diffi- 
 culty ! That sense of sin which was called in to 
 promote tenderness of heart, being overmuch in- 
 dulged, was ready at length to destroy that large- 
 ness and cheerfulness of soul which was so much my 
 duty and interest to maintain ; and, on the other 
 hand, the sense of divine wisdom, grace, and love in 
 Christ Jesus, being called in to keep up the soul 
 from sinking, was ready to bear it up so high, that it 
 almost forgot that it was in the waters. Beware, 
 Christians, and watch diligently, that godly sorrow 
 do not settle into an ungodly despondency and in- 
 consolable heaviness, the soul not being able to bear 
 up under its own burden ; and that a holy cheerful- 
 ness and serenity do not evaporate into an unholy 
 frothiness and forgetfulness of your infirmities, the 
 soul not being able to manage its own metal and 
 motions. 
 
 I know you would willingly understand something 
 of the frame of my heart at that day, with respect to 
 my departure out of this world : you will best read 
 my heart in the ensuing discourse upon 2 Cor. v. 6. 
 which I think was fetched from thence. I shall, 
 therefore, say no more as to this matter ; only ac- 
 quaint you with one eminent experience relating 
 thereto. My mind, or fancy, or appetite, (I know 
 not well what to call it,) was sometimes inditing in 
 
210 
 
 me some desires to live yet longer. I entered the 
 list with this temptation, and when I had fairly and 
 calmly debated the ground and reason of such in- 
 clination, after many shifts and pretences, it came to 
 this — I would fain persuade myself I was not yet 
 holy enough. This I did immediately consent to, 
 knowing it to be a certain truth ; but that, therefore, 
 I should desire to prolong my days upon earth, this 
 was a fallacious inference. Methought I pleased 
 myself a while, whilst I could say, I desired only to 
 live to be better : but, after a time, I apprehended 
 a fallacy in this pretence ; for the way to be perfected 
 in holiness, is not living, but indeed dying. Chris- 
 tians, if indeed your souls be sincerely and power- 
 fully affected towards perfect holiness, then sing not 
 so much with David, " Spare me, that I may re- 
 cover," as with good old Simeon, who having seen 
 God in the flesh, desired to go out of the flesh, that 
 he might see him more fully and beatifically : " Now, 
 lettest thou thy servant depart." I cannot enlarge 
 upon this observation. I suppose I have hinted 
 enough to show those pretences of many men, namely, 
 that they would fain live to be more fit to die, to be, 
 for the most part, but a kind of mockery and self- 
 deceit. 
 ^ 4. Lastly, I do solemnly and sincerely profess be- 
 fore God, and angels, and men, that I was never so 
 much as inclined to think hardly of God, or his good 
 and holy ways, because of this dispensation ; but did 
 then constantly and freely proclaim to all that came 
 to visit me, that sin, particularly self-will and earthly 
 loves, are the worst of plagues; and holiness, the 
 
211 
 
 only happiness of man ; yea, afflicted holiness infi- 
 nitely to be preferred before prosperous wickedness./ 
 
 III. Suffer me, as a conclusion of this Preface, 
 and as a result from all that I have seen and suftered, 
 to commend unto you a few excellent and necessary 
 duties. I have much ado to forbear being large 
 here; but I have already transgressed, therefore I 
 will waive those common themes of remembering 
 your Creator betimes, of hearkening to the voice of 
 his word, before his rod speak, of living in continual 
 preparation for death, of repenting, and renewing re- 
 pentance, &c. and only commend two or three things, 
 which seem to me of most excellent and necessary 
 importance. 
 
 1. Love and enjoy all things in God. Admire 
 divine goodness in every created excellency, and taste 
 a divine sweetness in every created comfort. Oh, 
 how is the noble soul of man debased, straitened, 
 confined, by low and earthly loves ; whilst many men 
 love the creature in opposition to the Creator, most 
 men in competition with him, and almost all men in 
 a way of separation from him ! O base and degene- 
 rate affections ! Let God be all things in your eye, 
 so that you shall not see, nor know, nor love, nor 
 taste any thing but him in the world. Deliver your- 
 selves (O immortal souls ! to whom 1 write) from all 
 those low, and straitening, and starving creature-loves; 
 and long and labour to be filled with pure, and holy, 
 and spiritual delights, such as the angels of God 
 have, such as the Son of God had, when he made it 
 his meat and drink to do the will of his Father. 
 But this you will find more largely prosecuted and 
 
212 
 
 pressed in the last of these following discourses. 
 Therefore, 
 
 2. Live purely at the pleasure of God, and main- 
 tain a universal and hearty compliance with his holy 
 and perfect will. Believe it, you will never enjoy a 
 firm and steady peace, till you have committed all 
 your will and ways to him, and wrapt up all your in- 
 terests and ends in him ; till your hearts be conformed 
 to the honour of God, and your wills moulded into 
 his will. It is a difference of will and ends, and a 
 distinction of interests, that beget all these ragings 
 and stormings in the hearts of men against God : 
 mine and thine do not only divide the world amongst 
 men, but divide men against God, earth against hea- 
 ven. Take this for a certain and undoubted apho- 
 rism, that " the grand interest of a soul is to com- 
 ply with, and be one with God." Communion of 
 hearts and wills, and interests and ends, is that 
 glorious fellowship which a creature hath with its 
 Creator; it is indeed the interest and honour, the 
 duty and dignity, yea, the heaven and happiness, of 
 the reasonable creature. But something to this 
 purpose you will find in the first discourse. 
 
 3. I beseech you. Christians, be not content to 
 say, you have chosen God for your chiefest good, 
 but pursue after him as such, without grudging, and 
 without ceasing, longing to be as much one with him 
 in a participation of divine perfections, as our created 
 natures are capable of. Maintain a holy and secret 
 striving of soul towards this blessed object continu- 
 ally, as a thing moves towards its centre, as a soul 
 ought to endeavour to accomplish its own perfections. 
 
213 
 
 Stand not gazing upon a heaven to come, but labour 
 to draw down all that peace, joy, love, purity, which 
 heaven is, into your own souls, by growing up into 
 the life of God daily. Reckon that you are never in a 
 right temper, except you be in David's temper, when 
 he waited for God " more than they that watch for 
 the morning," when his soul broke for the longing 
 that it had unto him at all times. I say not that 
 you should prepare for death : that seems too low, 
 both word and thing : look and live beyond death 
 and the grave, be lifting up your heads to discover 
 the dawnings of the day of your redemption, be lay- 
 ing hold upon immortaUty and eternal life. Some- 
 thing to this purpose you will find in the second dis- 
 course ; to which I refer you. 
 
 And now accept, I pray you, these poor labours, 
 which, for the glory of my God, I make public ; that 
 since, with Hezekiah, I may not go up to the house 
 of the Lord, to declare the goodness of the Lord, yet 
 I may leave some monument of it in writing, as he 
 did, when he had been sick, and was recovered of his 
 sickness. I will add no more, but entreat all serious 
 and devout readers to magnify the holy name of God 
 on my behalf, adding thereunto their earnest prayers 
 to God for me, that the same fire that burned up 
 the standing corn of my creature-comforts, may also 
 happily consume the stubble of my creature-delights 
 and loves; that my God would give me " a name 
 better than of sons and of daughters," the blessed 
 fruits of his Spirit, instead of the beloved fruits of 
 the womb ; that 1 may for ever live under the most 
 powerful influences of this dispensation ; and that the 
 
^214 
 
 
 t^lory of tl)c Lord may never depart out of tlie t 
 pie of my soul, as it departed out of the temple mad 
 with hands. 
 
 Now, to the God of nil grace and peace he all 
 praise and glory ! To him I commit you all, and 
 rest 
 
 Your friend and servant 
 
 In Christ Jesus, 
 
 SAMUEL SHAW. 
 
 Febriiarii 27, 1665. 
 
WELCOME TO THE PLAGUE. 
 
 Amos iv. 12. 
 
 Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel. 
 
 In this sermon of the prophet, the Lord reckons up 
 the many fearful plagues wherewith, from time to 
 time, he had essayed to reclaim this perverse people, 
 the ten tribes of Israel, beffinninfj at the 6th verse ; 
 but still concludes the relation with a doleful excla- 
 mation : " Yet have ye not returned unto me !" It 
 is not my business to inquire into the several plagues, 
 either the clear meaning of them, or the particular 
 time when they took place or ended, nor into the 
 impenitence and stubbornness of the people ; though 
 many useful things might be observed from hence. 
 But in tlie conclusion, because none of these judg- 
 ments had prevailed upon them, God resolves to 
 trouble himself with them no longer, but to destroy 
 them utterly. All that he had done to them in the 
 land had not prevailed; therefore now he will cast 
 them, and carrv ti^.em out of the land, by the over- 
 flowing scourge of an Assyrian captivity. . This 
 threatening he denounces in the second and third 
 verses: " I will take you away with hooks, and your 
 
216 
 
 posterity with fish-hooks." And after he had reck- 
 oned up the many calamities whereby he had sought 
 to bring them to repentance, but they repented not, 
 and so had demonstrated the equitableness of this 
 final judgment, he re-assumes the same threatening, 
 and persists in his former resolution, ver. 12. "There- 
 fore, thus will I do unto thee ;" and then adds, " Be- 
 cause I will do this unto thee, therefore prepare to 
 meet thy God, O Israel." 
 
 M^hicli words may either be understood ironically, 
 by way of derision of all their vain confidences and 
 refuges ; and then the doctrine is, " That there is 
 no standing before, nor striving against, nor flying 
 before God, when he comes to execute vengeance;" 
 which is an excellent truth, and of great use : or 
 else the words may be understood seriously, by way 
 of exhortation. The doubt seems to arise from the 
 ambiguous meaning of the word meet. The word 
 *ip^j signifies both to meet in a hostile manner, to as- 
 sault, invade, or grapple with, as a man meets his ene- 
 my : so it is used concerning David addressing himself 
 to fight with' Goliath, " He ran to meet the Philis- 
 tine :" and also to meet in a friendly, amicable man- 
 ner, by way of communication, salutation, or converse : 
 so it is used concerning Isaac going to meet Rebekah, 
 and concerning God's meeting of Balaam, to speak 
 with him, and impart his mind to him. If we take 
 the word in the first sense, then it is spoken by way 
 of irony or derision ; and so the meaning of the words 
 is contained in the proposition that I have laid down. 
 If we take the words in the latter sense, then it is 
 spoken serioUvsly, by way of exhortation ; and so the 
 meaning of them may be wrapt up into .this 
 
217 
 
 Doctrine, " That it is the duty of God' s people 
 to study a right behaviour towards him, and to con- 
 verse with him aright in the way of his judgments, in 
 the time of their afflictions" And in tliis sense I 
 shall take them, and prosecute them. Besides that 
 general, unalterable godly frame and behaviour, which 
 God's people owe to him as a standing duty, and 
 indispensable homage, there are some more especial 
 behaviours and tempers which they owe to him in 
 special cases, and are duties, as the season requireth : 
 Particularly, there are some special behaviours re- 
 quired at our hands in the time of our affliction. 
 And these both, 1. Towards ourselves, as self-exami- 
 nation, self-judging, renewing of repentance, &c. 
 2. Towards men, meekness, compassion, instructing, 
 warning, comforting, &c. 3. Towards God, as we 
 shall see anon. — An afflicted condition doth call for 
 some more especial tempers and behaviours towards 
 ourselves and others ; but these I am not to speak 
 unto from this text. It is the soul's meeting God, 
 behaviour towards him, conversing with him, that 
 my text leads me to treat of; and I sliall not vary 
 from it. In handling of which position I shall take 
 this method : — 
 
 I. Premise some things needful to be known con- 
 cerning the soul's conversing with God. For I shall 
 retain the word conversing throughout my discourse, 
 as being a single, yet a large and significant word. 
 
 II. Show what it is for a soul to converse with 
 God, and how it comes to converse with Iiim. 
 
 III. Prove the doctrine, that it is our duty to con- 
 verse with God in the way of his judgments- 
 
 K 12 
 
218 
 
 IV. Show particularly how wc are to converse with 
 God in the time of afflictions. 
 
 V. Apply it. 
 
 I. I shall premise some things needful to ho 
 known, that tend to clear up my way to the follow- 
 infj discourse. 
 
 1. I premise, " That it is the great duty of man 
 to converse with God." I have read, that it was a 
 common precept that the Jewish doctors were wont 
 to give to the people, that they should single out 
 some one commandment, and exercise themselves 
 very diligently in the observation of it, that therein 
 they might make God their friend, and make him a 
 kind of amends for the breach of many others. I 
 doubt it is a rule that too many professors live by, 
 who, not having the genuine and generous spirit of 
 true reUgion, do parcel out their obedience into some 
 little shreds of homage and devotion, and, instead of 
 consecrating their whole lives to God, do content 
 themselves with some circumstantial and light obe- 
 dience, and think themselves people of great attain- 
 ments, if they do but severely tie up themselves to 
 hearing twice a-week, and prayer twice a-day, and a 
 ii'w other acts of more solemn worship. Certainly 
 this is a penurious and needy spirit, much unlike the 
 generous, ample, and free-born spirit of true religion. 
 The duty, the whole duty, the constant duty of man, 
 is to converse with God, commended in Enoch by 
 tlie name of " walking with God ;" where you may 
 observe of him, that he did not only set out fairly 
 with God, take a turn or two with him, but he walked 
 Mith him three hundred years together. The same 
 
219 
 
 God calls for from Abraham, under the same name, 
 " Walk before me, and be thou perfect." But it 
 is not only the command of God that makes this a 
 duty ; if there had been no express commandment 
 concerning it, yet were it the duty of every man, 
 necessarily flowing from his relation as a reasonable 
 creature. As man is a creature, so he must necd< 
 live upon God ; and as a reasonable creature, so he 
 ought to live with him and unto him. Therefore 
 hath God given unto man a noble, rational soul, not 
 only that he might talk and work, manage the crea- 
 tures, and converse with the world, but that he might 
 converse with the God of the world, that infinite, 
 blessed, and glorious Being. This is the very end 
 of man's creation, as man, as a reasonable creature : 
 this was the end of his beinij created in the imaire of 
 God ; and when he was fallen from this image, this 
 was the end of his redemption by Christ Jesus, that 
 heaven and earth might be reconciled, and those that 
 were far oflP might be brought nigh. Sin is a sink- 
 ing of the soul down to self and the creature, and 
 redemption from sin is nothing else but a recovery of 
 the soul into a state of favour and fellowship with 
 God ; so that whatever is expressed by faith and re- 
 pentance, is contained in this one word, " converse 
 with God." It is the great, the necessary, and, as 
 I may say, the natural duty of the reasonable soul. 
 
 2. " It is the highest privilege of man." The j)rt'- 
 rogative of man above the beast is his reason; and 
 the glory of reason is, that it is capable of knowing, 
 loving, enjoying, and conversing with the supreme 
 and infinite Good. The privilege of reason is not. 
 as too many think, that it is capable of understanding 
 K 2 
 
220 
 
 arts and sciences; that it is capable of climbing up 
 into the nature and course of the heavens, and diving 
 into the secret depths of the earth and sea, and the 
 creatures therehi contained; but in conversing with 
 the infinite and glorious God. How miserably do 
 vulgar souls abuse this noble faculty, who exercise it 
 only in discoursing, numbering, and ordering the poor 
 concerns of the world and the body! Yea, certainly 
 those wise men, those scribes, those disputers of this 
 world, as the apostle calls them, who cry up this fa- 
 culty, and glory so much in it, and yet do not exer- 
 cise it about that high and eternal Being, do not 
 converse with God in pure affections, and God-like 
 dispositions and conversations, but expend those vast 
 treasures of reason upon secrets in nature, secrets in 
 art, secrets in state, or any other created being — do 
 enthral their own souls, which they say are so free- 
 born, and captivate and confine that noble principle, 
 which they themselves do so much magnify ; for sin 
 is certainly the great and only shame and reproach of 
 an immortal soul. And indeed these men, though 
 they put their souls to drudgery somewhat more 
 noble, yet are really not more happy than the vulgar 
 sort, who spend the strength of their souls about 
 eating and drinking, ploughing and sowing, or keep- 
 ing of cattle. What difference, I pray you, in point 
 of true happiness, is there between boys' playing with 
 pins and points, and old men's hugging of bags and 
 lands ? The noblest sciences, the greatest com- 
 mands, the most enriching trafiics, are as very toys in 
 comparison of true happiness, as the poor dunghill 
 possessions of vulgar men ; and the wise, the rich, 
 the learned, the honourable of the world, that take 
 
S21 
 
 up with an employment in this world, and with a 
 happiness in themselves, or in any creature, do as 
 much disgrace their own souls, and as truly live be- 
 low their own faculties, as he doth that knows no 
 higher good than food and raiment, no higher em- 
 ployment than to toil all his days in a ditch. For 
 indeed, as to all things but conversing with God, 
 man seems to be but equal, perhaps hiferior, to the 
 beasts that perish. Doth man eat, drink, sleep, 
 work ? so do they. Doth man find any sensual 
 pleasure which the beasts do not enjoy as well as he ? 
 If any glory in their knowledge of natural and political 
 things, I could instance in the strong memory, great 
 sagacity, quick fancy, wonderful perceptions, of many 
 beasts, and their strange knowledge of many secrets, 
 which they never learned by books, nor gathered 
 gradually by observation. And as for man's commu- 
 nication of his notions by words and phrases, I doubt 
 not to affirm, that there is something like to be found 
 in beasts and birds ; yea, that very beauty and flower 
 of sound, even music, which some men magnify so 
 much, is more fairly and sweetly uttered by the silly 
 bird that sits solitarily upon a bough, than by the 
 choristers of the Pope's cathedral. What sohd pre- 
 rogative worth naming remains to man above his fel- 
 low-creatures, but his conversing with God, wliicli 
 we call religion^ and is indeed reason rectified, sanc- 
 tified, exalted, and raised up into its pure and primi- 
 tive perfection ? Insomuch, that I have sometimes 
 thought, that I never heard a more reproachful word 
 spoken concerning a degenerate man, neither do I 
 think that any thing can be spoken of liim more 
 shameful and dishonourable, than what the apostle 
 
saitli of the heathen — " without God in the world." 
 By conversing with God in the world, man is truly 
 raised above the beasts, and the godly man above all 
 other men : nay, hereby is the godly soul advanced 
 to tlic dignity and glory of the holy angels, or at least 
 to a parity of happiness ; for it is this that is their 
 perfection and glory, as we find it described in Matth. 
 xviii. 10. " They always behold the face of God." 
 And therefore our blessed Saviour doth affirm, that 
 the saints in the resurrection, who shall be raised 
 above all creature-communion, to live upon God 
 singly and entirely, shall be " equal to the angels of 
 (irod." In a word, this is the most real heaven, 
 setting aside all circumstances of place, the perfect 
 and proper happiness of a soul, " to see God" — to 
 be " like unto him" — to converse with the Father 
 by the Son, as our Saviour hath told us, who best 
 knew it : " This is life eternal, to know thee the 
 only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast 
 sent." By this it is that God dwells in the soul, 
 and the soul in God, as we shall see hereafter, and 
 the kingdom of heaven doth really enter into every 
 believer. 
 
 3. " The natural man is utterly unwilling and un- 
 able to converse with God." An earthly mountain 
 may as soon rise up to heaven by its own power and 
 good will, as an earthly mind ; and such minds are 
 all natural and unrci^cncratc. Sin, as I hinted be- 
 fore, is a falling from God, a sinking of the soul into 
 self, whether sensual self, or spiritual self, and a shri- 
 velling of it up into the creature : and the sinful soul 
 is always, like a shadow, moving upon the surface of 
 the earth, and higher it cannot get. Would you 
 
/ 
 
 223 
 
 know what is the principal object of a natural man's 
 admiration, inchnation, and ambition ? — the Psalmist 
 will tell you, it is some created good : " Who will 
 show us any good ?" Will you know what is the 
 disposition of the natural man towards the supreme 
 and uncreated Good ? — the apostle will tell you, it is 
 ignorance and enmity : " The carnal mind is enmity 
 against God." This high duty of conversing with 
 God in a right manner is beside the temper of the 
 wicked man : never any such man did perform it. 
 It is a contradiction. A wicked man conversing with 
 God is, as if one should say, an ungodly man that is 
 godly. But that is not all. This duty is not only 
 out of the hands of a wicked man, but out of his 
 reach too : " Neither can he know him," saith the 
 apostle to the Corinthians; and again to the Romans, 
 " Neither can he be subject to him." " Can two 
 walk together except they be agreed ?" saitli the 
 prophet. Can man walk with God, converse with 
 God, except he be reconciled to him. And wliat 
 agreement but by a Mediator ? What mediator be- 
 tween God and man but Christ Jesus, who is a Me- 
 diator, who is God-man ? In a word, some converse 
 with one thing in the world, and some with another, 
 as I noted before : but all converse principally and 
 mainly with the creature, tliat arc not regenerated 
 by grace, reconciled by Christ. 
 
 4. " It is the duty of man, in all ages of life, at 
 all times, and in all places and conditions, to converse 
 with God." It is a necessary, natural, certain, con- 
 stant duty, springing up out of the very nature and 
 natural will of God, and out of the very nature, and 
 relation, and capacity, of the reasonable soul, bind- 
 
224 
 
 ing and admitting of no dispensation or diminution. 
 There is no time wherein it is not a duty, or wherein 
 it is less a duty than at another time ; however we 
 are apt to give to ourselves many relaxations from it. 
 The first-fruits, nay, the very early buds of the ten- 
 der soul, and of the springing faculties — these are 
 due to God, and ought to be dedicated to him : 
 " Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
 youth." Manhood is not allowed so to attend to 
 cares and exploits, nor old age to pains and griefs, as 
 to neglect converse with God ; but whether young 
 men build or plant, fight or study, work or marry, or 
 manage the affairs of the house or of the field, all 
 should be undertaken and carried on in a way of con- 
 verse and fellowship with God ; or whether old men 
 sit and muse and meditate, or lie under the pain and 
 grievances of decrepit age, still it ought to be in the 
 Lord. Neither doth this duty admit of interruption, 
 any more than of cessation : there is no dispensation 
 given us from this duty — as in no age, so in no hour 
 of our life. As we cannot live a moment out of God, 
 so neither ought we to live a moment without God 
 in the world. We ought continually to endeavour to 
 walk in subservience to, and converse with God ; yea, 
 and as far as may be, in a feeling converse with him 
 too. Holy David witnesses of himself, that the fear 
 of God was continually before his eyes, and that he 
 did continually converse with God; for so those words 
 may be understood, " I am continually with thee." 
 The like is recorded of many other saints both in the 
 Old and New Testaments, concerning whom one may 
 well say, as the queen of Sheba concerning the ser- 
 vants of Solomon, and with much better reason, 
 
225 
 
 " Happy are these thy servants, O Lord, which stand 
 continually before thee." Neither is it the duty ot" 
 some few men, who have the greatest knowledge, or 
 the most leisure : for it springs out of the relation of 
 a creature, and out of the very nature of the rational 
 soul ; so that no soul of man is exempted from it, 
 however many ignorant and profane persons live 
 rather in a professed independence upon God. Nei- 
 ther is it a duty only upon supposition of leisure and 
 freedom from worldly business, as some other things 
 are, but is equally incumbent upon prince and pea- 
 sant, upon him that sits in his closet, and upon him 
 that ploughs in the field; yea, they that go down 
 unto the sea in ships, ought to go up to heaven in 
 their hearts, and not only to converse with the clouds, 
 which they often do, but above them too. A hand 
 full of earth, and a heart full of heaven, may well 
 stand together; for as this duty justles out no honest 
 business, so neither should itself be justled out by 
 any. And as this high and excellent duty agrees to 
 all ages, and times, and persons, so it agrees to all 
 conditions too. Poor men think that rich men may 
 well do it, and rich men think that poor men had 
 need to do it : Prosperity thinks it hath better things 
 to mind than a God, and Adversity knows it hath 
 worse things, but it must mind them : Plenty is too 
 full to entertain him, and Poverty hath enough to do 
 to bear up under its own burden : Learning knows 
 how, but will not — Ignorance says it would, but 
 knows not how. But notwithstanding all this shuf- 
 fling, the obligation to this duty ceases not :. none so 
 high as to be above it, none so mean as to be below 
 it : for rich and poor, high and low, learned and un- 
 k3 
 
226 
 
 learned, prince and peasant, though they are divided 
 amongst themselves by punctilios and lesser differ- 
 ences, yet they are united in one universal Being, 
 meet in one and the same centre, agree in the com- 
 mon capacity of reasonable creatures. As religion 
 hath an interest and a concern in the whole of the 
 conversation, according to that of the apostle, " Our 
 conversation is in heaven," so also hath it a room in 
 the conversation of every man in every capacity. No 
 relation, condition, action, change, is exempted from 
 the powerful influence thereof: so the apostle de- 
 scribes himself, by his " living in all good conscience 
 before God" all along, and by his exercising himself 
 in this thing, " to have always a conscience void of 
 offence towards God and towards men." 
 
 5, Now, the fifth step in order would be, that " It 
 is more especially the duty of God's people to study 
 to converse with him aright in the way of his judg- 
 ments ;" which is the doctrine itself, which I must 
 not come to confirm, till I have showed, 
 
 II. In the second place, " what it is for the soul 
 to converse with God, and how it comes to converse 
 with him." 
 
 Not to name those too low and improper notions 
 that men ordinarily have of this high and spiritual 
 matter, conversing with God, to speak properly of it, 
 is " a complex act of the soul, whereby it entertains 
 God in itself, and renders itself back again to him :" 
 receives impressions from him, and gives up itself 
 again to him ; is first filled with him, and then empties 
 itself into him. You may conceive of it after tlic 
 similitude of a plant, that is influeivced by the benign 
 
227 
 
 beams of the sun, and in those beams spreads itself, 
 and in tlic virtue and power of them grows up to- 
 wards heaven ; or after the simiHtude of a river, that 
 is continually filled with the ocean, and is continually 
 emptying itself into the same. This seems to be 
 our Saviour's elegant allusion, where he compares a 
 divine and godly principle in the soul to " a well of 
 water," springing out from God, and continually 
 boiling and rising up towards him — " springing up 
 into everlasting life." Or you may conceive of it 
 after the similitude of a glass, which receives the 
 image of him that looks into it, and reflects the self- 
 same image that it receives : for indeed the bright- 
 ness and beauty of holiness, wherewith a godly soul 
 doth shine as a lifrht in the world, is nothinof but a 
 reflection of that light and brightness wherewith the 
 Father of light shines into it. And so the best of 
 men have nothing of their own to glory in : for they 
 behold God, but it is in his own light; they love 
 him with a love which he hath shed abroad in their 
 hearts : they are therefore like him, because he hath 
 stamped his own image upon them ; and so they must 
 needs acknowledge, concerning all their acts of love, 
 communion, and delight, as David did in another 
 case, " Of thine own we offer unto thee." This is 
 indeed the true and noble converse and communion 
 with God, wherein the life of a godly man is infinitely 
 advanced above the life of all other men, and indeed 
 doth nearly resemble the life of angels. Their life 
 is described in the Holy Scriptures, by a seeing of 
 God, a beholding of him face to fiice ; which we must 
 not understand of a naked, idle speculation, but ot a 
 real assimilation, arising from the divine impressions 
 
228 
 
 made upon them ; a beholding of him so as to be 
 changed into liis image. And such is a godly man's 
 life, spiritual life, his life of converse with God, con- 
 sisting in a participation of God, and of his grace, 
 and a holy reciprocation or reflection of affections to 
 him : which are indeed two distinct acts, though ori- 
 ginally springing from the same fountain : for the 
 love wherewith the soul loves God, is itself an efflux 
 from him : for by loving us, he inspires a love into 
 us ; and by influences from God, we become God-like. 
 But this converse with God is not only by the im- 
 pressions of goodness from God, and the reflections 
 of love and delight towards him, but is also seen in 
 the various acts of the soul, according to the various 
 impressions which God makes upon the soul, and 
 suitable to the various occasions of life. So we con- 
 verse with God by acts of fear, reverence, joy, confi- 
 dence, self-resignation, and the like. 
 
 Now, because we are in the body, and so cannot 
 converse with God so purely, spiritually, and imme- 
 diately, as the angels in heaven do, therefore it hath 
 pleased God to appoint unto man ways and means of 
 conversing with him, wherein he hath promised to 
 communicate himself to the soul, and so to draw forth 
 reciprocal acts of love, fear, reverence, confidence, re- 
 signation, dependence, and delight, out of the same 
 soul towards himself Now, these ways or means 
 may be reduced to three heads — Duties, Ordinances, 
 and Providences ; though indeed the two first may 
 be contracted into one. 
 
 1. I will speak a word or two of ordinances, 
 such as, the word and sacraments : for I shall name 
 no more but these two. The preaching of the word 
 
229 
 
 is a way in which God doth usually meet the sou], 
 to communicate life : " Being born again, not of 
 corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word 
 of God, which liveth and abideth for ever." Light : 
 " The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlight- 
 ening the eyes." Warmth : " Did not our hearts 
 burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, 
 and while he opened to us the Scriptures ?" Growth : 
 " As new-born babes, desire the sincere milk of the 
 word, that ye may grow thereby." And the soul 
 doth answer these impressions, as in water face an- 
 swereth to face, by the acts of faith, love, joy, meek- 
 ness, and holy resolution. So also the administra- 
 tion of the sacraments is a way wherein God meets 
 the soul, and communicates his love, sweetness, ful- 
 ness, goodness, strength, and vigour to the soul ; and 
 it reflects on him in the acts of holy complacency and 
 delight, cheerfulness, thankfulness, and dependence. 
 2. Duties. — These are also ways of converse 
 with God; such as confession, petition, thanksgiving, 
 conference, singing, meditation, observation. In all 
 which God impresses something of himself upon the 
 soul, and draws answerable affections of the soul unto 
 himself, as might appear in the particular expHcation 
 of them; but that would be too much a ditrression. 
 Only I will here note, by the way, the mistake of many 
 low-spirited Christians, who know no other converse 
 with God than the bare performance of these things ; 
 this they count the very top-stone of a Cliristian's per- 
 fections, the very flower of the spiritual life. But, 
 alas ! this is a gross mistake. There is, sure, some- 
 thing more sweet and satisfactory in the spiritual life 
 than the dry duty : there is marrow in the bone, or 
 
2S0 
 
 else a holy soul would not covet it with so much fer- 
 vour. Converse with God in duties is a spiritual, 
 savoury, filling enjoyment, distinct from the duties 
 themselves. This must needs be, except we will 
 allow to wicked and hypocritical men the same dain- 
 ties that the most sanctified souls feed upon, and say, 
 that the children's bread is common to the dogs as'well 
 as unto them. The soul doth not converse with God 
 in duties barely when it prays or meditates ; for even 
 godly souls themselves do many times find little con- 
 verse with God in these, when he suspends the in- 
 fluences of his graces, or their hearts are clogged or 
 cloyed with earthly objects, or otherwise indisposed 
 and shut up against him. It is not speaking to God 
 that brings the soul really nigh unto him, nor bare 
 thinking of God that advances the soul into the ex- 
 cellent state of feeling converse with him. Even 
 prayer itself may prove many times an empty sound : 
 and meditation, that most excellent and genuine off- 
 spring of the soul, may prove a poor, dry, and sapless 
 speculation. It is not enough to set up the sails, but 
 there must be also wind to fill them. But then doth 
 the soul converse with God in duties, when the dark 
 places thereof become filled with his divine light, and 
 the empty places thereof filled with his divine love, 
 and the low and languishing affections thereof are ra- 
 vished and revived with the powerful insinuations of 
 Ills almighty grace; when God draws, and the soul 
 runs. He puts in his finger by the hole of the door, 
 and the very bowels of the soul are moved for him, as 
 it is described, Son?r v. 4. Then doth the soul con- 
 verse with God in meditation ami prayer, when the 
 Spirit of God moves upon the face of the waters, wheii 
 
231 
 
 he kisses it with the kisses of his mouth; and the shak- 
 ing soul finds itself marvellously settled, the doubting 
 soul established, the frozen heart thawed, the be- 
 numbed affections warmed, the scanty and contracted 
 capacity of it enlarged and wonderfully widened, and 
 its slow and sluggish motions quickened into a lively 
 and cheerful compliance with and pursuit of the su- 
 preme and self-sufficient Good ; when the soul finds 
 its legs to run after that glorious object which is pre- 
 sented to it, lifts up its hands to lay hold upon the 
 strength, the fulness, the faithfulness, the Christ of 
 God ; and, bearing up itself upon the wings of faith 
 and love, flies out to seek its rest and happiness ; and 
 no longer envies the birds of the altar, for itself en- 
 ters into the holy of holies, and through the arms of 
 its Mediator throws itself into the very heart of God. 
 In a word, and that shall be the word of God, then 
 doth the soul converse with God in duties, when, 
 with " open face beholding the glory of God," it doth 
 not only admire it, but itself " is changed into the 
 same image, from glory to glory ;" that is, from grace 
 to grace. 
 
 3. Providences. — These are another way wherein 
 the soul converses with God. Now, by Providences 
 we mean, in general, " the whole work of God in 
 governing the world, and all things therein." And 
 so indeed a religious enlarged soul, a mind freed from 
 particular pinching cares, low and selfish ends, con- 
 verses with God in bcholdincj and observino- God's 
 settled course of governing the world. The whole 
 heavens, earth, and sea, and the admirable order 
 kept up in them, do teach the knowledge of God, 
 and draw up the contemplative soul into an observa- 
 
232 
 
 tion and admiration of him in them, and the pious 
 soul longs to find some impressions made upon itself 
 by all these, and to be affected with God therein. It 
 is not content with a bare speculation, but its medita- 
 tion of God in these is sweet to it, as David's were. 
 Particularly, God's providence towards mankind, as 
 it doth most lively express his infinite justice and 
 wisdom, so we ought to converse with him therein, 
 and in all the changes of any kind that befall man in 
 the world, that befall all the kingdoms of the world, 
 the four great monarchies of it, and all other subor- 
 dinate dominions ; more especially in all the muta- 
 tions that befall the church of God in the world, 
 and all men of all sects and sorts therein, but most 
 especially ourselves. Labour to converse with that 
 infinite mind, wisdom, and understanding, that or- 
 dains and orders all the changes that befall your- 
 selves. Now, our conversing with God in the several 
 changes that befall us in the world, is in general by 
 endeavouring to serve the providence of God in every 
 change. The providence of God serves itself even 
 upon wicked men, and upon all creatures that do least 
 understand it; but a godly man only knows how to 
 serve the providence of God in the things that be- 
 fall him : he hath no private selfish interest of his 
 own, but counts it his interest cheerfully and faith- 
 fully to serve the will of God, to be what God would 
 have him be, to be without that which God would 
 have him want, and to do what God would have him 
 do. Every wicked soul in the world sets up some 
 trade for himself, and drives on some particular self- 
 interest distinct from God : but a godly soul counts 
 it his greatest honour and happiness to be nothing in 
 
233 
 
 himself, or for himself, but is wholly at the will of his 
 Creator ; and, looking upon all his interest as being 
 bound up in God, is solicitous for nothing else but 
 to serve the will of God in his generation. So the 
 life of holy David is described : " David in his gene- 
 ration having served the will of God," that is, ' the 
 providence of God,' say the Dutch annotators, trans- 
 lating the words in this order. A good man eyeing 
 nothing but the great and blessed God in the world, 
 and knowing that he was not made for himself, but 
 for a higher good, is only ambitious to be subservient 
 to that infinite and sovereign Being ; herein imitat- 
 ing his blessed Saviour, who lived not to " do his 
 own will, but the will of him that sent him ;" and, 
 again, to " seek the glory of liim that sent him." In 
 a word, he looks upon himself, not as in himself, but 
 in God, and labours to become wholly God's, and to 
 live in the world only an instrument in the hands of 
 Him that worketh all things according to the counsel 
 of his own will ; that is, in general, for the convers- 
 ing with God in all kinds of changes in general. 
 
 Now, these changes ai-e reduced to two heads — 
 Prosperity and Adversity. In the first of these, it 
 is our duty to converse with God, and not with the 
 creature- comforts which we do enjoy from him,, as 
 one might show at large. But I am to speak of the 
 latter, and to show how we ought to converse with 
 God in that. But first I must demonstrate, that it 
 is our duty to do it : which was, 
 
 III. The third thing I promised ; namely, " To 
 show that it is the duty of God's people to study to 
 converse with him aright in the way of his judgments 
 in a time of affliction." 
 
234 
 
 And here, I liopc, I need not be at pains to prove 
 by Scripture, that besides the general business of a 
 Christian's hfe, some particular and more especial 
 behaviours are required of him in an afflicted state. 
 All will grant it sure : besides, by the time I shall 
 have declared wliat they are, I shall not need to prove 
 that they are. Therefore, for the present, I shall 
 content myself to give in three or four reasons of it, 
 and so pass on. — It is especially the duty of God's 
 people to study to converse with him aright in the 
 time of afflictions : 
 
 1. Because, " Then especially it is hard to do it." 
 We are then very apt to be taken off from it ; there- 
 fore we should then especially labour to pursue it, and 
 perform it. We are then in imminent danger to be 
 taken off from it, and that by these means: — 
 
 (1.) " Our senses do set us on work to converse 
 with outward means," which, whilst we attend upon 
 too eagerly, we neglect and forget God. This might 
 appear by an induction of particular afflictions ; but 
 that would be too long. I will only instance in one 
 or two for explication. The sickness and pain of the 
 body call out the mind to seek after and converse 
 with physicians : bodily wants call us to seek after 
 bodily supplies ; and so all kind of distresses call out 
 the soul to seek creature-relief. Call upon the sick 
 and languishing patient, to call upon, and hang upon, 
 divine help, to converse with God ; alas ! he hath 
 enough to do to attend upon his pains. Tell him of 
 case, of recovery, and he can hearken to you, for that 
 is the news that he longs to hear. Call upon the 
 poor pined beggar to seek relief from God, to con- 
 verse with him; alas! he finds such a faintncss in 
 
235 
 
 his limbs, such a gnawing of hunger, such a restless 
 appetite within himself, that he can groan out no- 
 thins: but — O that one would mve me bread to eat ! 
 In a word, the soul is more naturally addicted to at- 
 tend to its body, to which it is joined, than the God 
 that joined it to that body. Hence you may observe 
 two things by the way : — 1. The reason why so few 
 persons repent in time of sickness ; the sense of sick- 
 ness drowns the sense of sin. 2. The reason why 
 so few poor people, who are evermore conflicting with 
 the necessities of the body, do not at all mind the 
 concern of their souls; the exigencies and straits of 
 the body cry louder in their hearts than all the word 
 and works of God. So that as health is the best 
 time for repentance, so it seemeth that the best way 
 to teach the poor is to relieve them. 
 
 (2.) " The corruptions of the heart are then most 
 apt to make war against heaven." This is the opin- 
 ion of him who knows the temper of man too well : 
 " Put forth thine hand against him, and he will 
 curse thee to thy face." And I am persuaded that 
 the devil acts much by this observation; which makes 
 him endeavour all he can to make many good men 
 poor, thinking thereby to make them less good, 
 though the wise and merciful God wonderfully pre- 
 vents him. For indeed the soul is so naturally tender 
 of the body, that it is loath God himself should touch 
 it : if he do, it is ready to fret and storm, and fly in 
 his face. " Converse with God !" saith the wicked 
 king — why, " this evil is of the Lord ; what should 
 I wait for the Lord any longer ?" There are many 
 corruptions of the soul that are most ready to clamour 
 against God in a time of affliction — as fear, anger, 
 
S36 
 
 unbelief, yea, and sinful self-love and creature-love: 
 an affection that can never be taught to converse with 
 God, yet will go crying after him, when he takes 
 away any darling from it; as Phaltiel went crying 
 after his wife, or rather crying against him ; -as Micah 
 cried against the men of Dan, saying, " Ye have 
 taken away my gods, and are gone away, and what 
 have I more?" 
 
 (3.) *' Temptations do then come strongest from 
 without." Then it is the deviPs time to play his 
 game. What ! put up with this reproach ? what ! 
 will you sit down with this loss? up and revenge 
 thyself. He that knows so well the temper of man's 
 heart, so ready to curse God when he touches him, 
 will not fail to touch the heart, and tempt it to curse 
 him indeed — " Curse God, and die." 
 
 2. The second reason why we ought especially to 
 study to converse with God in the time of affliction, 
 is, because " That is a time wherein we are most 
 apt to think ourselves excused from this duty ;" as if 
 it were allowed us in our extremity to forget God, 
 and mind ourselves only ; and that not only in respect 
 of these bodily straits and distresses which I named 
 under the last head, but in respect of our own pas- 
 sions. When the afflicting hand of God is upon us, 
 pressing and grieving us, and taking our beloved 
 comforts from us, we are apt to indulge our own 
 private and selfish passions — care, fear, sorrow, com- 
 plainings; yea, to think we are in some sense allowed 
 to indulge them.^ How willingly do we suffer our- 
 selves to be drawn into a converse with ourselves, to 
 be contracted, as it were, into ourselves, and suffer 
 ourselves to be carried down the stream of our own 
 
237 
 
 passions, which at otlier times we should tliink it 
 were our duty to resist ! Even as the heart draws 
 home to it, in a time of danger, the blood that was 
 dispersed abroad in the body, as it were to defend 
 itself, so the heart gatliers home its power and affec- 
 tions, which were formerly bestowed here and there, 
 to employ them all about itself in a time of sore 
 affliction. And we are apt to think ourselves excus- 
 able too in so doing : so that if God himself should 
 ask a distressed soul, as he did Jonah, " Dost thou 
 well to be careful, fearful, sorrowful, querulous, be- 
 cause of those afflictions, losses, distresses, that are 
 upon thee ?" it would go nigh to give him the same 
 answer — " I do well to be sorrowful, yea, and to 
 refuse to be comforted." There seems to be allowed 
 us some natural affisctions in case of extreme affliction, 
 which, how far they arc lawful, I will not now dis- 
 pute : but sure I am, that if such be allowed us, they 
 must not be wild extravagances, wandering without 
 the bounds of religion and conscience, as if God had 
 laid the reins upon the neck of the soul, and given 
 it leave to indulge itself in what passions it would, 
 for a certain time ; as the daughter of Jephtliah was 
 allowed to go whither she would, wailing upon the 
 mountains for two months. We are never allowed 
 any passions or affections that do not comply with 
 the will of God, and consist with our submission 
 thereto. But whatever they are, I find that, under 
 the pretence of those, some men are apt to bo carried 
 into strange, inordinate wishes, and commit many 
 passionate outrages ; and, indeed, the best of men 
 are too prone to suspend and interrupt that lively and 
 feeling converse with God, which they ought to main- 
 tain, even when they smart most. 
 
258 
 
 3. " Because then is a time when there is more 
 special use for and need of such converse with God." 
 And that, 1st, to give rest to the soul. In prosperity 
 men forget God, and yet make a shift to find some 
 kind of rest in their pleasures, friends, employments. 
 Some take comfort in their cups and companions; 
 and, indeed, all are apt to fancy a contentment in 
 creature-enjoyments. But in a time of great afflic- 
 tion all these are gone, or at least have no favour in 
 them; and where shall the weary soul find rest then? 
 When there is no show of rest but in God alone : 
 when all other props fail, then either catch hold of 
 God or fall. There is now nothing left to give any 
 settlement or contentment to the soul but God alone; 
 and in him there is ease to the sick, rest to the weary, 
 settlement to the restless, contentment to the troubled 
 Christian. Therefore converse with God in the day 
 of greatest affliction, which is the same counsel in 
 effect with that of our Saviour, " Come unto me, all 
 ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest." 2d, There is need of it to give relief to 
 the body also. 
 
 And so conversing with God in a right manner is 
 the best policy, the surest way to recovery and relief. 
 See what a speedy cure there is in it : " They looked 
 unto him, and were lightened ; and their faces were 
 not ashamed. This poor man cried, and the Lord 
 heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles." 
 In vain is conversing with friends, physicians, coun- 
 vsellors — in vain is all creature-converse without this : 
 no rest to the soul, no ease to tlic body, in a time of 
 affliction, without converse with God : so that a man 
 in affliction, estranged from God, straggling off from 
 
239 
 
 God, is altogether miserable. In a word, separate 
 a soul from God, in prosperity his enjoyments arc 
 low, and in adversity the want of them is very bitter : 
 so that there is good reason why a Christian should 
 study to converse with God in the way of his judg- 
 ments. — But the great art is to know how. This, 
 therefore, I now come to, 
 
 IV. In the fourth place, " To show particularly 
 how we are to converse with God in affliction." Now 
 there are two ways of explaining this : — 
 
 Firsts By showing with what attributes of God 
 we are to converse. 
 
 Second, By what acts of the soul. — But I shall 
 bring both these into one. 
 
 1. We ouxrht to converse with the absolute and 
 
 o 
 
 unlimited Sovereignty of God, whereby he. as a free 
 and supreme agent, doth what he will, and none can 
 say unto him, " What dost thou ?" This Job often 
 eyes and owns, particularly in chap. ix. 12. " He 
 taketh away, who can hinder him ? who will say unto 
 him. What doest thou ?" This we must also eye 
 often, and own heartily ; this we may well argue from 
 God's creatincp us. He that made us thus without 
 any constraint, can he not, may he not, make us 
 otherwise, and alter us without restraint ? So Job 
 argues : " The Lord save, and the Lord hath taken 
 away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." W^e 
 may also argue it from the subordinate sovereignty 
 and inferior supremacy of men : even a monarch 
 among men doth whatsoever he pleases, and who 
 may say unto him, " What dost thou ?" Yea, a very 
 centurion hath a kind of sovereignty in his sphere, 
 
240 
 
 over as many as are under him : he saith unto one 
 man, " Go, and he goeth ; and to another. Do this, 
 and he doeth it." And shall we not then acknow- 
 ledge a sovereign power, an independent, ahsolute 
 authority, in the great and blessed God, over the 
 whole creation, the workmanship of his own hands ? 
 So the good centurion argues and infers, in the pas- 
 sage last quoted. Nay, as the apostle saith in one 
 place, " We have fathers of our flesh," who use us 
 at their pleasure, and we do not gainsay their autho- 
 rity : we do not say to our father, " What begettest 
 thou ?" nor to our mother, " What hast thou brought 
 forth ?" Nay, if these similitudes will not teach you, 
 I will say to you, as God to the prophet, " Arise, 
 go down to the potter's house;" there I will cause 
 you to learn this lesson : he maketh or marreth his 
 vessels of clay, as oft as he pleaseth ; and are not ye 
 in the hand of the Lord, as the clay is in the hand 
 of the potter ? I speak the more to this, inasmuch 
 as I find, that however men give God good words, 
 and confess his dominion over them and theirs, yet 
 when it comes to it, that he touches them in any of 
 their darling comforts, they are ready to clamour 
 against him in their hearts, as if he did them some 
 wronc* if not to curse him to his face. Certainly 
 there is some atheistical opinion of propriety, that in 
 some degree or other is apt to steal into the most de- 
 vout minds. And sure I am, we do not only barely 
 offend, but we do ourselves much hurt ; we wound our 
 own peace, we shake the scttlednessof our own hearts, 
 we put ourselves into briers; in a word, we both 
 lessen our creature-comforts, and multiply our griefs, 
 and aggravate our sorrows, by calling things our own. 
 
241 
 
 If we had not taken them to be our own, it would 
 not have troubled us to part with them. 
 
 Be sure, therefore, to eye and own the absolute and 
 unlimited sovereignty of God. But that is not all : 
 it is not enough to believe it, we must converse with 
 it otherwise than by thinking of it, or assenting to it. 
 Then do we converse with the sovereignty of God, 
 
 (1.) " When the powerful sense of it doth silence 
 quarreUing, yea murmurings, yea even disputings in 
 the soul." We may indeed modestly contend with 
 men concerning their dealings with us; the potsberd 
 may strive with the potsherds of the earth, but it must 
 not say to the potter, W^hy hast thou made mc thus ? 
 A pacate and quiet frame of heart is a real conversing 
 with the sovereignty of God : so did Aaron when lie 
 held his peace, Lev. x. 3. and Job, when he attributed 
 nothing unseemly to God. 
 
 (2.) " When the sense of it doth suppress self-will." 
 This is an unruly lust in the soul, a giant-like spirit 
 warring against heaven, and breeding hate continually. 
 This is that which maintains a meum and tuum^ even 
 with God himself, that sets up interests, (as the Jews 
 set up princes,) but not by God, yea, indeed, in oppo- 
 sition to him. This is the seditious party in the soul 
 that is always crying out, " We will not have this man 
 to rule over us ;" and when that darling interest, which 
 this proud rival hath set up, is touched of Goil, and 
 smitten and blasted from heaven, it is ready to fret 
 and storm, yea, and to think it hath reason to he 
 angry. If this son of the bond-woman were cast out, 
 Abraham's family would be all of a piece, all in order, 
 and at rest. If this undisciplined and perverse spirit 
 were quite banisbed, O what a calm day would it be in 
 L 12 
 
242 
 
 the soul ! what fair and sweet correspondence would 
 there be between God and his creature ! for certainly 
 this is the Jonah that raises the storm, and makes the 
 great deeps of the soul that it cannot rest, but do per- 
 petually roll and toss, yea, and cast out mire and dirt 
 continually. But, alas ! I doubt this spirit is not 
 quite laid, no, not in the most spiritual man ; the best 
 of men are ready to nourish up some darling, some 
 private interest or other of their own, distinct from 
 God and the grand interest of their souls, which God 
 himself must not touch : some gourd or other, that 
 the cold wind must not blow upon. He is a blessed 
 man indeed, who doth so understand that he lives 
 and moves in God alone, and is so overpowered with 
 the sense of the infinite goodness and holiness of 
 God, and the absolute perfection of his divine will, 
 as that he reckons it his greatest perfection to be no- 
 thing' in himself, nor have nothinir of his own distinct 
 from God, but only studies to be great in God, to 
 be filled with God, to live to him and for him, to enjoy 
 all things as in and under him, who counts it his only 
 interest to quit all self-interest, and particular ends, 
 and to be freely at the disposal of the highest mind, 
 conformable to the highest good, cheerfully compliant 
 with the uncreated will. Potiphar had so committed 
 all to Joseph, in the sense of his great faithfulness, 
 that " he knew not ought he had, save the bread that 
 he did eat." But this similitude is too low ; a godly 
 soul should commit all its interests, its life, and live- 
 lihood, and all to God, in the sense of his sovereignty, 
 and not know ought that he hath, no, not his own life, 
 l)ut despise it in comparison of uncreated life, as Job 
 s])eaks : " Though I were perfect, yet' would I not 
 
243 
 
 know my soul ; I would despise my life." Methinks 
 the sovereignty of God speaks such language to the 
 soul, and in it, as Eli to Samuel — " My son, hide 
 nothing from me, keep nothing hack of all that thou 
 hast ;" and the pious soul should not, with foolish 
 Rachel, conceal any selfish interest, so as not to be 
 able to part with it, when its sovereign Lord and 
 Father comes to search the tent; but when God 
 comes to ferret out all self-interests, and shall ask, 
 " Is there any such yet with thee ?" should be able 
 to answer boldly, " No, there is none." Blessed is 
 the man that is in such a case : blessed is the man 
 whose only interest it is to serve the will of the Lord. 
 Well, improve the infinite sovereignty of God to 
 this end, and work it upon and into your own hearts, 
 that all self-will may stoop to it ; and let the main 
 interest of your souls be so planted and established 
 in your souls, that no other interest may be able to 
 grow by it; charm your own self-will with such severe 
 reproofs as this is — " Either deny thyself, O my soul, 
 or deny thyself to be a creature ; cither be wholly at 
 God's command, or call him not thy sovereign." 
 
 (3.) " When the sense of it doth beget reverence 
 in the soul towards God." We ought not only to 
 be subject to the rod of God, but even to reverence 
 him when he correctcth with it; and so not only to 
 accept of the rod, but to kiss it too. And surely if the 
 fathers of our flesh correct us, and we give them 
 reverence, much more ought we to reverence the so- 
 vereign Father both of flesh and spirit. This is a 
 devout act of the soul, whereby it looks up and adores 
 the infinite and sovereign Majesty, and thinks equi- 
 table and honourable thoughts of him, even when he 
 l2 
 
^44 
 
 is in the way of his judgments. And these are the 
 proper acts of a soul conversing with God's sove- 
 reignty in the time of afflictions. When we are 
 silent before him, subject unto him, and reverencino- 
 of him, then we do really and truly converse with 
 him as our almighty and absolute Sovereign. But 
 God's authority and prerogative, though it may si- 
 lence, it will scarce satisfy : such a corrupt and rebel- 
 lious pass are our natures grown to. Therefore, 
 
 2. Converse with the Perfect and Infinite Riirht- 
 eousness of God in the time of afflictions ; that divine 
 perfection, whereby he renders to every man what is 
 just and due, and no more. This we are to eye and 
 own, and sincerely to acknowledge, even in the time 
 of our greatest extremity, after the example of Daniel 
 — " The Lord our God is rio^hteous in all his works :" 
 and of the godly Levites — " Thou art just in all thnt 
 is brought upon us, thou hast done right." Argue 
 with Abraham, " Shall not the Judge of all the earth 
 do right ?" Can Righteousness itself err in judg- 
 ment ? Shall the timber say. unto the rule, why 
 hast thou measured me thus ? or to the line, thou art 
 crooked? " Are not my ways equal?" saith the 
 Lord. Are not the Lord's ways equal ? Let your 
 souls say so too. Be ye firmly persuaded of the 
 infinite and incorruptible righteousness and equity 
 of God. But that is not all : we do not then con- 
 verse with the righteousness of God, when we do 
 believe it, or acknowledge it : a very Pharaoh may 
 be brought to make such a confession — " The Lord 
 is rigliteous, and I and my people are wicked." But 
 then do we converse with the riixhteousness of God 
 in general, wlien the sense of it doth give a rational 
 
245 
 
 satisfaction to the soul. And indeed, wliereas the 
 sovereignty of God is enough to silence, yet his 
 righteousness had need to be called in to administer 
 satisfaction : the former is sufficient to stop the mouth, 
 but there is need of the latter to settle the heart. 
 And indeed, methinks, it is a heart-settling consi- 
 deration : for how can the interest of the creature 
 be better secured than in the hands of a righteous 
 God ? where can we venture all we have better than 
 on such a certain and steady foundation ? how can 
 we better trust ourselves than on such firm and even 
 ground? We will trust ourselves far with an up- 
 right and righteous man; and if we hear of the mis- 
 carriage of any interest of ours at any time, it dotli 
 mightily calm and satisfy our hearts, if we are assured 
 that it was in the hands of a just and upright person : 
 much more rational and steady satisfaction may the 
 infinite righteousness of God administer, even in the 
 time of the greatest affliction, if it be duly wrought 
 into the heart. But more particularly, 
 
 (1.) " The powerful sense of the righteousness of 
 God should make us sensible and serious." It be- 
 comes us seriously to ponder, duly to weigb, and in 
 good earnest to lay to heart, all that is done to us by 
 a righteous God. We use slightly to pass by, and 
 slightly to esteem, the words or actions of vain man : 
 but it is not for nothing that the righteous God 
 afflicts any man, in any measure, at any time. The 
 voice of God, though it be not always articulate, yet 
 it is always significant. Will a lion roar for nothing i 
 Surely, every action of the righteous God hath a 
 meaning in it : a hair falls not from our head, nor a 
 sparrow to the ground, without him ; much less do 
 
^246 
 
 greater changes befall us without him. And in all 
 things he is infinitely righteous. O how doth this 
 call us to sensibility and seriousness ! how ought all 
 the powers of the soul to be awakened to attention, 
 when the righteous God utters his dreadful voice, 
 and the whole frame of the heart and life to be com- 
 posed under his heavy hand ! Now, if ever one 
 would " say of laughter, It is mad ;" one would 
 reckon trifling to be a kind of profaneness, and judge 
 that foolish jestings do almost border upon blasphe- 
 my, formerly not convenient, now not lawful : for 
 indeed a vain, frothy, hght, trifling spirit, in the day 
 of affliction, is in a sense a blaspheming of the right- 
 eousness of God. As a consequent of this, 
 
 (2.) "It should put us upon self-examination." 
 Nature itself had taught the heathenish mariners, in 
 the case of Jonah, to inquire v/here the fault was in 
 a storm ; much more may the knowledge of God's 
 infinite righteousness teach us. So may the holy 
 word too, that word in Lam. iii. 40. " Let us search 
 and try our ways," &c. and many others. Now do 
 the faculties of the godly soul, being awakened, begin 
 to cast lots upon themselves, to find out the guilty 
 party : and certainly God hath a great hand in order- 
 ing these lots : he doth ordinarily show unto man his 
 sin, even by the verdict of his own heart. Con- 
 science, I mean, is God's vicegerent in the soul ; and 
 though it is true this judge is ofttimes corrupted and 
 bribed, or at least overruled in prosperity, yet God 
 instructs it to speak good sense, and to speak out, 
 and speak the truth in the time of affliction. 1 
 believe they hit the nail upon the head, who cried 
 out one to another, " Verily we are guilty concern- 
 
247 
 
 ing our brother." Another cries, " Verily I am 
 guilty concerning my master, concerning my people, 
 guilty concerning my wife, concerning my children, 
 concerning my estate, my time, my talents ;" and it 
 may be all true. I believe the heathen was in the 
 right, who looked upon his hands and feet, and cried 
 out, " As I have done, so God hath requited me :" 
 and the Babylonish monarch harped upon a right 
 string, after he was come to his right wits again — 
 " Those that walk in pride, he is able to abase." 
 God hath not given to our faculties any infallibility 
 indeed, but he enables them to make good guesses, 
 and, I am verily persuaded, doth many times lay the 
 hand upon the right sore, and order this secret lot- 
 tery from heaven ; so that that faculty, or that frame, 
 or that action, which stands convicted in the court of 
 conscience, is seldom held guiltless in the court of 
 heaven. 
 
 (3.) " It should work us to humiliation and refor- 
 mation ; a heart broken, and a conversation healed of 
 its breaches." By humiliation I mean a heart broken 
 purely, properly, and spiritually for sin. I do not 
 mean by it, a heart broken for losses and afflictions, 
 and bowing down itself heavily under the burden of 
 its distresses ; no, nor a broken heart for sin, as view- 
 ing it only in the calamitous etfects and bitter fruits 
 of it, which I doubt not is the humiliation of most. 
 Many may say concerning their humiliation, (to use 
 the prophet's words in a different sense,) " These arc 
 the wounds with which I was wounded in the house 
 of my friends," by the loss of my friends, the loss ot 
 my health, the loss of my goods ; these tears that 
 you see, these groans that you hear, are nothing but 
 
248 
 
 the scars which the sore hath left behind it, and the 
 wails which the rod hath made. I doubt our very 
 sorrow for sin, in a time of affliction, admits of a mix- 
 ture of carnal self and passion, and so of sin too. 
 But I mean a pure, spiritual, proper sorrow and hatred 
 of sin, which I know may be broached by sharp 
 afflictions, and have vent given it by piercing the 
 vessel ; but that is not the proper cause and ground 
 of it. Moses, in his joy, had an eye to the " recom- 
 pense of reward ;" and so a Christian, in his sorrow, 
 may have respect to the recompense of his sin, I 
 mean his afflictions : but it is not primarily and 
 principally caused by these ; for though these dread- 
 ful showers from heaven should cease, yet the stream 
 of his eyes, or at least the fountain of his heart, 
 would not cease issuing forth bitter waters : thou<^h 
 the righteousness of God serves to give vent to godly 
 sorrow, yet it is the goodness and holiness of God 
 that gives it. Do we sorrow for sin because it spoiled 
 us of our comforts, stripped us of our ornaments ? 
 then, sure, we think there is something in the world 
 worse than sin, for which we should bewail it, and 
 hate it ; and, consequently, that there is something 
 better than God, for which we would love him. Alas ! 
 how apt are we to run into practical blasphemy before 
 we are aware ! In a word, to decide this contro- 
 versy, our afflictions, losses, distresses in the world, 
 may possibly be as a bucket to draw up this water of 
 godly sorrow, but they must not be the cistern to 
 receive and hold it^ Serious and spiritual humilia- 
 tion is a real conversing with the righteousness of 
 God. To meet God, is indeed to fall down before 
 him ; and to converse with him, is to lie down under 
 
^49 
 
 him : the truth of which temper is best evidenced by 
 that excellent commentator, the life of a Christian ; 
 this doth best declare the nature, and interpret the 
 meaning of heart-humiliation. He that breaks off 
 his sins, doth best make it appear that his heart is 
 broken for them. If you would know whether there 
 has been rain in the night, look upon the ground, 
 and that will discover. O my friends ! if the dust 
 be laid, if all earthly joys, contentments, pleasures, 
 concerns be laid, you may conclude your sorrow was 
 a shower sent into your souls from heaven. 
 
 If you see a boy both sobbing and minding his 
 book, you may conclude he hath some right sense of 
 his master's severity. Conversion to God is the 
 most proper and real conversing with him in the way 
 of his judgments : so he himself interprets in that 
 complaint — " The people turneth not to him that 
 smiteth them." That which happened to Moses, 
 when he had been in the mount with God, Exod. 
 xxxiv. 29. should also be the condition of every good 
 Israelite, when he hath been with God in the valley, 
 the vale of tears, an afflicted state : his face should 
 shine, his conversation should witness that he had 
 been with God ; the smell of this fire should pass 
 upon his garments, his whole outward man ; the spirit 
 of mourning should be demonstrated by the spirit of 
 burninn;. If God from heaven set fire to the stand- 
 ing corn of our worldly comforts, we must answer 
 him from within, and set fire to the stubble of our 
 worldly lusts and corruptions. Let me change our 
 ^Saviour's words therefore a little, and exhort you 
 earnestly : Thou Christian, when thou fastest, when 
 thou humblest thy soul for sin, "wash thy face*' 
 l3 
 
250 
 
 also, cleanse thy outward conversation from all sinf'al 
 pollution, that thou mayest appear to be humbled 
 indeed : and this shall be accounted as a true and 
 real conversing with the righteousness of God in the 
 time of affliction. 
 
 3. Converse with the Faithfulness of God. This 
 attribute of God hath respect unto his promises, and 
 therefore it may be you will think strange that I 
 should speak of this in a discourse on afflictions, as 
 not having place there at all. Every one will readily 
 acknowledge, that God's Sovereignty and Right- 
 eousness do clearly appear in his judgments, but how 
 liis Faithfulness can be exercised therein they see 
 not. What ! faithful in punishing, in plaguing, in 
 visiting, in afflicting, distressing his creature — how 
 can that be ? Many will be ready to think rather, 
 that God is not faithful at such a time, when he de- 
 nies what he had promised to give, takes away what 
 he had promised to continue : when he plagues David 
 every morning, when he had promised him that the 
 plague should not come nigh his dwelling; when he 
 brings Abijah to the grave, to whom he had promised 
 that his days should be long upon the land ; and Job 
 to the dunghill, to whom all the promises were made 
 both of the life that now is, and of that which is to 
 come. Is this faithfulness? doth God fulfil his pro- 
 mises by frustrating them ? Notwithstanding all 
 this, it seems that the faithfidness of God hath place 
 in the afflictions of his people; for so saith David 
 expressly, " I know that in faithfulness thou hast 
 afflicted me;" if indeed faithfulness be taken properly 
 in that place. Neither indeed need it seem so strange 
 as some men make it; for God hath promised his 
 
251 
 
 covenant-people to visit their iniquity with a rod — 
 "the rod of a man," a fatherly chastisement, as it is 
 explained, where this seems to be made a branch of 
 the covenant, and is understood by many as a pro- 
 mise. But if that be not a plain promise, I am sure 
 there is one in Psalm Ixxxiv. 11. " No good thing 
 will he withhold from them that walk uprightly." 
 And if no good thing, then no correction neither; 
 for that is often good and profitable for the people of 
 God in this world, for many excellent ends, which, 
 considering the nature of man, cannot well be ac- 
 complished without it, as might appear in many par- 
 ticulars; but it is not needful to run out into them. 
 God will take more care of his own people than of 
 the rest of the world, and will rather correct them, 
 than not reduce them. It is their main happiness 
 that he takes care for, and he will in kindness take 
 out of the way whatever hinders it, and give what- 
 ever may promote it. God's thoughts are not as 
 our thoughts: he judges otherwise of health, riches, 
 liberty, friends, than we do. We are apt to measure 
 God by ourselves and our own affections, which is 
 the ground of our mistake in this business : we mind 
 the things that please our flesh, our senses, our ap- 
 petite, our fancy; but God minds the things that 
 concern our souls and their true happiness. The 
 saints are much dearer to God, and much more be- 
 loved of him, than they are to themselves; and there- 
 fore he will not give them what is sweet, but what is 
 meet : he will give them what makes for their real 
 and eternal happiness, whether they would have it 
 or not. He loves them with a strong and powertul 
 love, and will not deny them any thing that is truly 
 
252 
 
 good for them, though tliey cry out under it; nor 
 allow them any thing that is really hurtful, though 
 they cry after it. So will a wise father upon earth 
 do by his cliildren, to the best of his skill and power : 
 much more will God then, whose bowels are infi- 
 nitely larger and stronger than those of a father. 
 Now, then, labour to converse witli the faithfulness 
 of God in the time of afflictions, which is by study- 
 ing the covenant and the promises of it, and your 
 present condition, and comparing them together, and 
 observing how consonant and agreeable they are, 
 each interpreting the other; as also by persuading 
 your hearts of the consistency of afflictions with di- 
 vine love and favour, and by studying to reconcile 
 the hand and heart of God together. But especially 
 converse with it practically, by a holy establishment 
 and settlement of heart under all afflictions; for, 
 whereas afflictions in themselves are apt to beget a 
 fearfulness, despondency, or at least fluctuation in the 
 soul, the lively sense of God's faithfulness in inflict- 
 ing them wfll settle and sustain it : it is a Arm and 
 consistent thing upon which the shaking soul may 
 settle safely, and centre itself boldly. 
 
 4. Converse with the Holiness and unspotted 
 Purity of God. He is angry and sins not; he cor- 
 rects for sin without sin : " Fury is not in me, saith 
 the Lord." There is no passionate malicious temper 
 in the pure and holy God, no revengeful appetite to 
 feed upon the blood of his creature : he is of purer 
 eyes than to behold the least iniquity, and of a purer 
 nature than any way to miscarry in any of his deal- 
 ings or dispensations. Converse then with this in- 
 finite holiness of God; keep up pure," equitable. 
 
253 
 
 honourable thoughts of him in your hearts: take 
 heed of fancying to yourselves a God guilty of pas- 
 sion or partiality, or carried away with such weak and 
 mixed affections as we ourselves are. But, more 
 practically, converse with God's holiness in the time 
 of afflictions, by laying even little sins greatly to 
 heart. Little sins, compared with infinite holiness 
 and purity, ought to be matter of great and serious 
 sorrow to a sensible soul. Again, take heed of the 
 least miscarriages under affliction, of departing from 
 God in the least. This, I know, is the great duty 
 and care of every tender-hearted Christian at all 
 times; but, I conceive, we ought more especially to 
 press it upon our hearts in the time of affliction, be- 
 cause we are then most apt to indulge some kind of 
 human passions, which we call natural affections, as 
 if we had a license to care, and fear, and grieve, and 
 complain, not only in an extraordinary, but even in 
 an irregular manner. Oh ! let the sense of God's 
 infinite purity and perfect holiness check and awe 
 those very natural affections, be they what they will, 
 if they offer to exceed their bounds, and overflow 
 their banks. But this I touched upon before, under 
 another head, amongst the reasons of the doctrine. 
 Therefore, 
 
 5. Converse with the Almighty Power of God. 
 That God is infinite and almighty in power, I need 
 not undertake to demonstrate : no man hath read a 
 leaf in Scripture, nor indeed turned over any one leaf 
 in the book of the creatures, who hath not learned 
 this. I need not turn you to any particular mighty 
 work of God ; they that instance in his letting loose 
 the virtues of the creatures, in the case of the uni- 
 
^54 
 
 versal deluge, or binding up of their influences, as 
 in the case of the three captive Jews, and of Daniel 
 and Jonah, wlicn he kept the fire from burning, and 
 forbade the Hons to eat the one, and the fish to diiiest 
 the other, whom he had swallowed — make a poor 
 guess at almighty power, but a faint essay to describe 
 it. The creation of the least creature out of nothinof, 
 is a higher argument of divine power than the com- 
 mand of the greatest that is already created. Eye 
 God duly in the notion of a Creator, yea, the Creator 
 of your own souls and bodies, and you have enough 
 to fill you with everlasting admiration, as David was 
 filled : " I am fearfully and wonderfully made." But 
 it is not enough to eye, or acknowledge, or admire ; 
 we must yet do more, if we will rightly converse with 
 the almighty power of God, by the acts of reverence 
 and dependence. 
 
 (].) " Reverence that almighty and glorious God 
 in your hearts," who can bring any thing out of any 
 thing, yea, out of nothing ; yea, any thing to nothing, 
 in a moment. Reverence that power of God, that 
 can pour contempt upon princes ; that can bring Job, 
 the greatest of all the men of the East, to he in the 
 ashes, and make his bed in the dunghill; that can 
 send home Naomi empty, who went out full and 
 flourishing. Hath he done so by you? debased you 
 when you were high, tumbled you down from the 
 clouds, and roiled you in the dust ; emptied you 
 when you were full, withered you when you were 
 fresh and flourishing ? Let not these lose the lilorv 
 of his almighty power; reverence that glorious hand 
 of God. 
 
 (2.) " Rest upon the same almighty God," who 
 
^55 
 
 can also bring up the same Job from the dui)<;hill, 
 and set him with princes, and give Naomi a famous 
 oftspring, even one of the ancestors of the Messiah 
 according to the flesli. The same power that caused 
 your sun to go down at mid-day, when you least 
 suspected, can also cause it to rise at midnight, when 
 you least hope. Dwell not upon creature probabili- 
 ties or improbabilities ; but lift up thyself, believing 
 soul, and be assured, that God can do what he will, 
 and he will do what is good for them that love him, 
 according to the dictates of unsearchable wisdom and 
 goodness. Thou that art rolled in the dust, yet 
 arise, and roll thyself upon those almighty arms that 
 brought thee thither, and are able to advance thee ; 
 as I have seen a child throv;n off by his father, and 
 thrown down to the ground in a seeming displeasure, 
 yet clinging to the same hand, and will not let it go, 
 till at length he rise up again by it : a fit emblem of 
 a child of God, whom his heavenly Father seems as 
 if he had cast off. The woundini^ hand of God is 
 apt to amaze indeed, and to beget consternation and 
 astonishment; but remember, the same hand that 
 wounds can also heal ; he that breaks us, can also 
 make up all our breaches : let this beget confidence 
 and dependence. God never wounds deeper than 
 that he can easily bind up the wound again : never 
 throws his people so low as that they should be out 
 of his reach. Take heed, therefore, of unseemly 
 despondencies ; cast not away your confidence, which 
 shall have a recompense, if ye maintain it : a recom- 
 pense, I say ; for that God who can recover the set- 
 ting sun, and exalt it in its beauty and brightness, 
 and doth so every morning; who can clothe the for- 
 
Q56 
 
 lorn and naked trees with leaves and fruits ; who can 
 recover the verdure of the withering grass, and doth 
 so every year — he can also cause light to arise to 
 them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death. 
 He who could give unto Araaziah much more than 
 that which he parted with at his command; who 
 t'ould turn again the captivity of Joh, and give him 
 double for what he had taken from him — he can 
 surely make his people " glad, according to the days 
 wherein he hath afflicted them, and the years wherein 
 they have seen evil;" he can recompense and restore 
 to his penitent people the fruits which the locusts and 
 the caterpillars have consumed, according to his pro- 
 mise ; he can recompense to his people the comforts 
 of health and liberty which sickness hath consumed, 
 the comforts of friends and relations which the grave 
 hath devoured. He who made the springs dry, can 
 as easily make the "parched ground tobecome a pool," 
 and " the thirsty land springs of water," as you find 
 both elegantly joined together, Psalm cvii. 33, 35. 
 " He turneth water-springs into dry grounds." Say 
 not, therefore, with the captive Jews, " Our bones 
 are dried, and our hope is lost ;" for God can cause 
 even " those dry bones to live." Say not with that 
 low-spirited courtier, 2 Kings vii. 19. " If the Lord 
 should make windows in heaven," then might such 
 })lcnty be in Samaria ; for he did accomplish it, and 
 yet not rain it from heaven either : but say rather 
 with Job, " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in 
 liim;" and with the three worthies, " Our God 
 whom we serve is able to deUver us out of thine 
 hand, O king:" — so he is able to deliver us out of 
 thine hand, O enemy, O prison, O sickness, yea, 
 
257 
 
 out of thine hand, O grave ! If we despond and 
 be dejected both ia mind and body at the same time, 
 tlien is our condition indeed sad and shameful ; nay, 
 we do more reproach God by such a temper in our 
 affliction than he reproacheth us in afflicting us. 
 Make it appear, Christians, that though God hath 
 cast you down, yet you do beheve that he hath not 
 cast you off; and that you, although you be sorely 
 shaken by him, yet are not shaken off from him. 
 7'hus you shall glorify the almighty power of God in 
 the day of your visitation. 
 
 6. Converse with the infinite and unsearchable 
 Wisdom of God ; especially with the wisdom of God 
 in reference to his judgments, and our afflictions. 
 He is infinitely wise in reference to our afflictions : 
 for, (1.) He knows what, and what manner, and 
 what measure of correction we stand in need of. 
 (2.) When and how best to deliver us. (3.) How 
 to make the best use of all for our good. 
 
 (!.) " He knows what, and what manner, and 
 what measure of correction we stand in need of." 
 He is that wise Physician, who knows what humour 
 is most predominant in the souls of his servants, and 
 what is the most proper medicine to purge it out ; 
 where the most corrupt blood is settled, and at what 
 vein to let it out. He is infinitely knowing of the 
 various tempers and distempers of his servants, and 
 can apply himself suitably to them all. And as to 
 the measure and degree, he is also infinitely wise and 
 exact : he weighs out the afflictions of his people to a 
 LTain for quantity, and measures tliem to a day and 
 hour for duration. Fie did not miss of his time, no, 
 not one day in four hundred and thirty years. So 
 
258 
 
 many years of bondage were determined upon the 
 people, and after these years were expired, the very 
 next day the hosts of the Lord went up out of Egypt. 
 And as for measure, he observes a certain proportion, 
 as you may see in Isa. xxviii. 27, 28. As the hus- 
 bandman uses different ways of purging and cleans- 
 ing different sorts of grain; beating the fitches with 
 a staff, and cummin with a rod, because they are a 
 weaker sort of grain, and will not endure hard usage ; 
 but bruising the bread-corn, because threshing will 
 not suffice ; and he is loath to break it all to pieces 
 with turning his cart-wheels upon it. An elegant 
 similitude, whereby God insinuateth his different 
 ways of correcting his people, and observing a suit- 
 ableness to their strength and temper, when less 
 would not do, and more would overdo : he must cor- 
 rect so far as to bruise, but will be sure not to break 
 and spoil. He that saitli to the proud waves of 
 the swelling sea, " Hitherto shall ye come, and no 
 farther," hatji the same command over these meta- 
 phorical waves, those floods of affliction, whicli he 
 lets loose upon his people ; and they cannot go an 
 inch further than he hath appointed : he saith. 
 Hitherto shall this sickness, this mortality, this per- 
 secution go, and no further; and even these storms, 
 and this sea, obey him. Now, we converse with 
 this instance of divine wisdom, not only when we 
 observe it and acknowledge it, but, 
 
 First, When it begets in us a friendly and " cha- 
 ritable temper tow-ards second causes :" when we are 
 at peace with the whole creation, even with enemies 
 themselves, and in perfect charity with those very 
 plagues and sicknesses that do arrest us ; rather ad- 
 
259 
 
 miring and delightino- in their subserviency to God, 
 than at all maUgning their severe influences upon us. 
 A good man is so much in love with the pure, and 
 holy, and perfect will of God, that he desires also to 
 fall in love with, at least he is at peace with, every 
 thing that executes it, that serves the will of his 
 heavenly Father: he sees no reason in the world to 
 fall out with and fret against any man, or any thing 
 that is a means to afflict him ; but views them all as 
 instruments in the hand of God, readily serving his 
 will, and doing his pleasure, and under this notion is 
 charitably affected towards them all. Observe a little, 
 and admire, how David was reconciled to the rod, 
 because it was in the hand of his Father, and seems 
 to kiss it for the relation that it had to the divine 
 will : " Let him alone, and let him curse, for the 
 Lord hath bidden him." This ffracious soul is so 
 wonderfully in love with the will of God, that he 
 could almost find in his heart to be reconciled to sin 
 itself, if it do accomplish it ; and to be friends with 
 the wrath of man, if it work the righteousness of God. 
 And if David can be so charitably affected towards 
 a cursing Shimei, viewing him as an instrument in 
 the hand of God, methinks we may be almost in love 
 with any thing under that notion, and much rather 
 say concerning a poor harmless sickness. Let it alone, 
 so let it put us to pain, for God hath sent it. To 
 this sense may a devout soul draw the words of our 
 iSaviour concerning the woman in Matth. xxvi. 10. 
 " Why trouble ye the woman ? she hath wrought a 
 good work upon me :" Why do ye interrupt and 
 disturb this disease ? why do you fret against this 
 persecutor ? why do you repine at this prison ? it 
 
260 
 
 executes the will of my God upon me. What 
 though these men pour out their venom in such 
 abundance? what though this disease spend its in- 
 fluences upon my body so plentifully? there is no 
 waste in all this; there is need of just so much: 
 God doth not lavish out his arrows in vain, nor shoot 
 at rovers, as Jonathan did, who cozened his lad, 
 making him believe he shot at a mark, when he shot 
 at none, A soul overpowered with a sense of God's 
 infinite wisdom in appointing, measuring, timing all 
 afflictions, will easily be reconciled to a poor hcU*mless 
 creature, which is set on and taken off at his pleasure. 
 
 Secondly, " When it begets in us a holy acquies- 
 cence and resting in God," which is opposed to a 
 larger and disorderly hastening towards deliverance. 
 Then do we indeed own and honour the skill of our 
 chirurgeon, when we do quietly suffer the corrosive 
 plasters to lie on, and do not offer to pluck them offj 
 notwithstanding the smart they put us to. And 
 surely he who believes the infinite wisdom of God, 
 who knows what, and what manner and measure of 
 correction we stand in need of, will not make haste 
 to be delivered from under his hand, but composeth 
 himself quietly, as young Samuel laid himself down, 
 and when he was called, answered cheerfully, " Speak, 
 Lord, for thy servant heareth." 
 
 A soul, sensible of God's hifinite wisdom in this 
 particular, argues thus — Who am I, poor worm, 
 shallow creature, that 1 should contend with infinite 
 wisdom about the time or manner of my being in the 
 world? why did not I also undertake to appoint him 
 the time and place of my being born ? shall I say it 
 is too much, when infinite wisdom thinks it is not 
 
261 
 
 enough ? Cease, wrangling soul, and be at rest, for 
 the Lord deals wisely with thee. — Such a soul, so 
 conversing with the all-wise God, dare freely refer 
 all to him, venture all with him : if he smite him on 
 the one cheek, he dare turn to him the other ; if he 
 take away his coat, he dare offer him his cloak also ; 
 if he take away his liberty, he dare trust him with 
 his life too; if he smite him in some of his comforts, 
 he dare turn to him the rest also : for he knows that 
 infinite wisdom cannot err in judgment, nor miscarry 
 in his dispensations. 
 
 (2.) " God knoweth when and how best to deliver 
 us." This necessarily follows upon the former. To 
 him all times, and all things, past, present, and to 
 come, arc equally present : in one single act of under- 
 standing he doth wonderfully comprehend ])oth causes 
 and events, sicknesses and cures, afflictions and deli- 
 verances. Let the atheistical world cry, These are 
 they that are forsaken, whom no man carcth for ; there 
 is no hope for them in their God, as their manner 
 is to blaspheme ; still the promise stands unrepealed 
 in ])oth Testaments — " I will never leave you, nor 
 forsake you :" though the case be ever so extreme 
 ami desperate, still the apostle's words hold good, 
 " The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out 
 of temptations." If all passages be blocked up, he 
 will rather make a gap in the sea, than his people 
 shall not escape. And this way and time of God's 
 deliverance is the most excellent, suitable, and cer- 
 tain, as might abundantly appear in many particulars : 
 but that would we a digression. In the general, be 
 assured that God's way is the best way of deliver- 
 ance, and his time is also the best time. He that 
 
262 
 
 sits as a refiner of silver, knows how and when to 
 take out the metal, that it be purified, and not hurt. 
 Here I might enter into a large discourse, and show 
 you how the judgment of man is ordinarily deceived, 
 and his expectations disappointed, which he had built 
 upon creature-probabilities, when, in the meantime, 
 the purpose of God takes place in a far better and 
 more conformable deliverance of his servants. But 
 it may suffice to have hinted it only. 
 
 Our duty is to converse with this instance of di- 
 vine wisdom, by the exercises of patience and hope. 
 If God seems to tarry long, yet wait patiently for 
 his appearance : for he will appear in the most ac- 
 ceptable time, and " in the end ye shall consider 
 it," and acknowledge it. Take heed of limiting the 
 Holy One of Israel, as that murmuring generation 
 did. Psalm Ixxviii. 41. Take heed of fixing of your 
 deliverance to such or such a train and series of causes, 
 which you have laid in your own heads, and of en- 
 gaging God to act by your method ; if God be a 
 wise agent, it is fit he should be a free agent too. 
 Bear up. Christian soul ; faint not, when thou art 
 rebuked of him : " Cast thy burden upon the Lord," 
 and he will, in due time, find out a way either of 
 lessening it, or removing it. " You have heard of 
 the patience of Job, and you have seen the end of 
 the Lord." Be you patient, and you shall see it too; 
 a better end than ever you could have accomplished 
 by your own art and industry. In the meantime, 
 clierish in your hearts a lively hope of a happy issue ; 
 for your lives and comforts are all hid in him, in 
 whom also are hid all the treasures of wisdom and 
 knowledge. As the consideration of infinite wisdom, 
 
^63 
 
 ill knowing how and when host to dchver us, may 
 settle our hearts, that they do not rise up as a foam 
 upon the waters through impatience ; so it may hear 
 up our hearts, that they do not sink witliin us, as a 
 stone in the waters, through desperation. 
 
 (3.) " God knoweth how to make the best use of 
 all for our good." I say, of all ; both of the affliction, 
 the manner and measure of it, of his delay, and of 
 the season in which he chooses to redeem us. He 
 can make Paul's imprisonment turn to his advantage ; 
 Job's captivity to redound to his far greater state ; 
 Joseph's banishment to make him great, and Manas- 
 seh's to make him good. This is a large theme, and 
 therefore I dare not go into it particularly ; take all 
 in one word from the apostle : " All things do work 
 together for good to them tliat love God." What- 
 ever the premises be, the only-wise God knows how 
 to draw a happy conclusion from them. Get a firm 
 belief of this radicated in your hearts, and converse 
 with the wisdom of God in this instance of it, by 
 the great grace of self-resignation. The sovereignty 
 of God may well work us into a resignation of our 
 interests, and comforts, and concerns to him ; but this 
 infinite wisdom of God ought, in reason, to work us 
 into a resignation, even of our very wills unto him. 
 Oh ! this debasing of self-will, this self-resignation, 
 is a noble and ingenuous act of a pious soul, (for so 
 I dare call him in whom it is found,) whereby it 
 honours God greatly in all that comes upon it ! A 
 godly soul, considering itself ignorant of many things, 
 burdened with many corruptions, and clogged with 
 an animal body, senses, appetite, fancy, which arc 
 always calling for things inconvenient, if not unlaw- 
 
264 
 
 fill, doth conclude it would not be good for it to be 
 at its own finding, or caring, or carving; and duly 
 eyeing that infinite Mind and Understanding, who, 
 in a wonderful, unaccountable manner, orders all 
 things, and all events, to the best and certain issue, 
 is so mastered by, and indeed enamoured with, the 
 sense of it, that he renounces his own wisdom, and 
 throws out his own clamorous will, and complies 
 readily with the all-wise God. This is truly to con- 
 verse with the wisdom of God, when we do out of 
 choice refer ourselves to it, and roll ourselves upon it. 
 Every bare acknowledgment of divine wisdom is not 
 a proper conversing with it ; but when the same is 
 wrought into the soul, and the lively sense of it doth 
 so overpower the heart, that the will is prepared to 
 close readily with such methods as God shall please 
 to use to accomplish his own ends, then do w^e pro- 
 perly and feelingly converse with God, under the 
 notion of the all-wise God. But this of self-resig- 
 nation I spoke something to under the first head, and 
 much of that which is spoken there, may be indiffer- 
 ently applied hither. Therefore, 
 
 7. Converse with the unbounded Goodness, Love, 
 and Mercy of God. God is infinitely and unchange- 
 ably loving and merciful to his people : he is Good, 
 saith the Psalmist ; and he is Love, saith the apostle. 
 Those dreadful and terrifying apprehensions which 
 men have of the blessed and good God, as if he were 
 some austere and surly majesty, given to passion and 
 revenge, are apt to destroy that cheerful and ingen- 
 uous converse witli him, which the creature should 
 maintain with its Creator at all times. But then we 
 ire most prone to entertain those apprehensions, and 
 
Q65 
 
 to harbour such unseemly notions of him, when In- 
 appears in tlie way of his judgraents, when we take 
 a view of liim in the ruins of our comforts, tlie blood 
 of our friends, the spoil of our goods, and in the dis- 
 tresses of our lives. We are apt to frame notions 
 of God, according to what we find in our own dis- 
 position ; to fancy a God like unto ourselves ; and 
 therefore we cannot eye an afflicting God, but we 
 presently conclude an angry God : as though the 
 eternal and pure Being were subject to passions and 
 changes as we are. These apprehensions being once 
 drunk into the soul, it becomes unhinged presently, 
 and almost afraid to behold the face of Love itself, 
 but flies and hides itself, as iVdam in the garden ; or 
 if the soul do converse with God at all, it is as a city 
 that is besieged converses with the enemy without, 
 sending out to seek peace, and to obtain a cessation 
 of arms. And so a soul may bestow much upon 
 God, surrender up the castle, give him all that he 
 hath almost, not for any love that he bears to him, 
 but as Joash gave Hazael a present of gold and 
 precious things, to hire him to depart from him. 
 Oh ! then they will up and do any thing ; yea, cir- 
 cumcise their lives, as Zipporah circumcised her son, 
 to escape the hands of an angry God. Every one 
 will converse with God as an enemy in time of ex- 
 tremity, hang out a flag for peace, send presents, 
 pay homage, send ambassadors to entreat his face ; 
 but few know how to converse with the goodness 
 and mercy of God, with him as their dear and only 
 friend, in a time of affliction, freely and cheerfully. 
 Now, there seems to be a double account to be given 
 M 1 2 
 
^66 
 
 of men's not conversinff with the goodness and mercy 
 of God in the time ot" afflictions : 
 
 (1.) " Many cannot behove the mercy and kind- 
 ness of God, when he is in the way of his judgments.'' 
 " If it be so, why am I thus ?" cries the poor soul, 
 strugghng under its burden, and travaihng in pangs 
 to be dehvered of its griefs. Thus unbelievingly 
 argues Gideon, who was otherwise famous for faith. 
 In the time of his bitter bonda«;e under the Midian- 
 ites, when an angel from heaven was sent to assure 
 him of the good-will of God towards him, he could 
 not entertain the news, nor believe the report, be- 
 cause of the anguish of his soul, but cries out, " O, 
 my lord ! if the Lord be with us, why is all this evil 
 befallen us?" No, the Lord hath forsaken us, for 
 he hath delivered us into the hands of the Midianites. 
 The sad soul is ready to cry concerning Christ's gra- 
 cious presence, as the two sisters concerning his per- 
 sonal presence : " Lord, if thou hadst been here, 
 my brother had not died!" Lord, if thou hadst 
 been here, if thou hadst loved me, if thou hadst any 
 delight in me, my brother had not died — my husband, 
 my wife, my children had not died ; I had not been 
 thus plagued, afflicted, wounded, tormented, as I am. 
 Hence we have those many complaints of the afflicted 
 soul up and down the Psalms : " Hath the Lord 
 forgotten to be gracious ? is his mercy clean gone ? 
 liath he shut up liis tender mercies in anger ?" and 
 many such like. The smart of our senses is apt to 
 pervert the judgment of our minds, and the sense 
 of bodily evils is ready to destroy all sense of the in- 
 finite and unchangeable goodness and love of God. 
 Now, this PTcat evil seems to arise from these two 
 
267 
 
 causes : namely, our measuring God and his divine 
 dispositions, by ourselves and human passions and 
 affections, as I hinted before: and our measurintr the 
 love of God too much by the proportion that he gives 
 us of worldly prosperity. Wo to him, in a day of 
 distress, who was wont to judge of divine love by the 
 things that are before him, as Solomon calls the 
 things of this world. This, I say, is the temper, 
 the infirmity of many in the time of afflictions, though 
 indeed there be no reason for it : for why should we 
 conclude harshly concerning Job upon the dunghill, 
 any more than we would conclude charitably con- 
 cerning Ahab on the throne ? Besides, the Scrip- 
 ture teaches expressly, that the love of God doth 
 stand with correction : " I will visit his iniquity, but 
 my loving-kindness will I not take from him." Nay, 
 it seems as if it could not well stand without it: 
 " Whom the Lord loveth, he chastencth, and scourg- 
 €th every son whom he receiveth." 
 
 (2.) Others do indeed believe the goodness and 
 mercy of God to them in a time of affliction ; " but 
 either they cannot, or dare not, or will not converse 
 with it, nor take comfort in it." They remember 
 God with the Psalmist: ("I remembered God, and 
 was troubled ; I complained, and my spirit was over- 
 whelmed :") that is, saith Mollcrus, the goodness, 
 bounty, mercy of God, and yet, at the same time, 
 are troubled ; their hearts are unquiet, fluctuating, 
 tumultuous within them ; the soul is so impressed 
 with the sense of sin, which it hath contracted from 
 the consideration of its sufferings, that it dare not 
 presume to meddle with mercy. But though this 
 mercy of God be its own, yet it is ready to think 
 M 2 
 
268 
 
 tliat it is a duty to forsake tts own mercies, as though 
 it heard God cliiding it in the words of Jehu to 
 Joram's scout : " What hast thou to do with peace ?" 
 what hast thou to do with mercy ? " turn ye behind 
 me." An afflicted soul hath much ado to beUeve 
 it to he a duty to converse with the goodness and 
 love of God in a time of affliction. It easily agrees 
 to converse with the justice, holiness, and power of 
 God indeed, but thinks it very improper and un- 
 seasonable, if not unsafe, to converse with his mercy. 
 It is ready to cry, with Solomon, presently, " In 
 the day of prosperity rejoice, but in the day of ad- 
 versity consider ;" or, with the apostle, " If any be 
 afflicted, let him pray ; if he be merry, let him sing 
 psalms." Conversing with the goodness of God 
 seems not to be a duty at this season. I confess 
 this is a high and hard duty. Every smatterer in 
 religion will cry out in his affliction, " Thou art just 
 and righteous, O Lord :" but, " Thou art good and 
 merciful — blessed be the name of the Lord," is the 
 voice of a Job only. But it is a duty, though a 
 hard one, and affording much pleasure and content- 
 ment to them that are exercised therein. That the 
 kindness and benignity of God doth not tail, that 
 his love is not broken off* from his people, no, nor 
 suspended eitlier, when he afflicts them most, is 
 most certain : for though he works chan<:ces in and 
 upon us, yet himself is eternally and unchangeably 
 the same : and thou^jh some of his dealinj^s towards 
 his j)cople seem to be rough and severe, yet if we 
 judge rightly of them, they are all mercy and trutli 
 towards them that keep his covenant: And that 
 the people of God ought to converse with this divine 
 
269 
 
 love and mercy, even in their greatest afflictions, is 
 as clear. To this purpose I might allege the lore- 
 quoted example of holy Job, and might enforce this 
 doctrine from the apostle's words, " Rejoice in the 
 Lord alway ; and again I say, Rejoice :" and " count 
 it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations :" and 
 from many good reasons too, if it were needful. I 
 know indeed that it is a hard thing to keep up a right 
 frame towards, and converse rightly with, the right- 
 eousness and goodness of God at the same time : the 
 one frame is ready to justle out the other. Sorrow 
 is apt to contract the heart, and destroy the large 
 and cheerful temper of it ; and joy dilates and en- 
 larges it, and is ready to make it forget its grief. 
 But though it be hard, yet it is possible : these two 
 may well consist in the same soul, according to that 
 passage, '* Rejoice with trembling." 
 
 But how must we converse with the love and 
 mercy of God in the time of afflictions ? I have 
 partly prevented myself in this already, but I shall 
 speak a little more distinctly of it. We do not then 
 converse with the goodness and mercy of God, when 
 we barely think of it, or acknowledge it ; but. 
 
 First, " When we believe and apply it, and take to 
 ourselves the comforts of it;" when we look through 
 the clouds that are round about us, and quite cover 
 us, and by the eye of faith behold the Fountain and 
 Father of light ; when we can look beyond the frowns 
 that are in his face, and the rod that is in his hand, 
 and see the good-will that dwells in the heart of God 
 towards us : more especially, 
 
 Secondly, When we do not only see and believe it, 
 but " also draw virtue and influences down from it into 
 
270 
 
 our souls, to establish, settle, and satisfy them." Not 
 so much when we see it, as when we taste it; when 
 we feel the Sun of Rigliteousness warm us, though 
 it does not dazzle us, and though we cannot perceive 
 it to shine upon us, yet we find it to shine in us. 
 We do then converse with the love and mercy of 
 God in an afflicted state, when the same doth bear 
 us up, not only from utter sinking, but even from 
 inordinate sorrowing ; when we draw a virtue from 
 it into our souls to sustain them, yea, and to cherish 
 them too. Thus Job comforts himself in his living 
 Redeemer ; and the Psalmist in the mercy of God, 
 even when he was ready to slip — " In the multitude 
 of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my 
 soul." In a word, we converse with divine goodness 
 when we are really warmed with it, and with almighty 
 love when we rejoice in it, and can with holy ventur- 
 ousness, and humble confidence, throw ourselves into 
 the very bosom of it ; when we receive impressions 
 of it from the Spirit of God, and are thereby moulded 
 into a temper suitable to it, and becoming it : for 
 then indeed do we most happily converse with the 
 love and goodness of God, when we for our part do 
 live upon it ; when we, being assured of an interest 
 in a loving and good God, do render up ourselves 
 also unto liim, in the most beautiful and becoming 
 affections of love, joy, confidence, and holy delight. 
 This is an excellent frame ; and sure I am it is much 
 for our interest thus to converse with God in the 
 time of our afflictions. It is a high way of glorify- 
 ing God, and bringing much credit to religion : and, 
 indeed, he who keeps up this frame can be afflicted 
 but in part ; he escapes the greater half of the evil : 
 
271 
 
 for though it be ever so stormy a time without him — 
 a storm upon his house, upon his goods, upon his 
 relations, yea, upon his own body — yet it is a calm 
 day within ; in the soul there is peace and tranquillity. 
 8. Lastly, and indeed everlastingly too, we are to 
 converse with the infinite self-sufficient Fulness of 
 God in a day of the greatest extremity: that is, as 
 if I should say, not with any one single attribute, 
 but with the very Godhead of God, the immense 
 Perfection of God, and the Allness of the Deity. 
 O ! how seasonably doth this blessed object present 
 itself to the soul in a time of afflictions, losses, mor- 
 talities, persecutions, when we arc most emptied of 
 creature-enjoyments, and the emptiness of them doth 
 most appear ! for upon these two doth our conversing 
 with God much depend. I need not tell you how 
 apt we are to live beside God, w'hen we have our 
 fill of creature-delights : whilst we can entertain our 
 hearts with a created sweetness, we foolishly forget 
 and neglect the supreme Good. And so fond and 
 unreasonable is this affection, that no warnings, 
 no precepts, will serve the turn : God is forced to 
 break that off from us, from which we would not 
 be broken. Sure I am, the blessed and bountiful 
 God envies not his servants any of their creature- 
 comforts or delights ; but he loves them, as 1 said 
 before, with a strong and powerful love, and will not 
 suffer them to live so much to their losses as they 
 do, when they spend noble affections upon transitory 
 things, in the everlasting enjoyment of which they 
 could never be happy. Now, afflictions are a nega- 
 tive, if we speak properly, even as shi is : and, wlien- 
 cver we are afflicted in any kind, we are emptied of 
 
272 
 
 some created good ; as poverty is nothincr but the 
 absence of riches ; sickness, the want of ease, of 
 order, of health in the constitution ; restraint is the 
 loss of Hberty. So then it appears, that, in a time 
 of affliction, God is emptying us of creature-enjoy- 
 ment : for indeed affliction itself is little or nothinir 
 else but such an emptying or deprivation ; and that 
 then the emptiness of the creature doth most appear, 
 I suppose all will grant. The sick person looks 
 upon his decayed strength, and withering members, 
 and is feelingly convinced of the truth of the scrip- 
 ture — " All flesh is grass." Another casts about 
 his eyes with Samson, and sees heaps upon heaps, 
 and cries out like one that feels the weight of his 
 own words, " Childhood and youth are vanity :" or, 
 alas ! how soon is the desire of one's eyes taken away 
 with a stroke ! another sees his goods carried away 
 before his face, and his house on fire before his eyes, 
 and then cries out, that he hath a real proof of the 
 vanity of those things, which Solomon had long ago 
 observed: " Riches make themselves wings; they 
 fly away as an eagle towards heaven." Whilst we 
 see the creatures stand, we will not believe but they 
 are stable ; whilst we see them fair and flourishing, 
 we cannot rightly lay to heart the withering nature 
 of them : but when we see them cut down, we then 
 conclude they were but flowers ; when we see them 
 flitting, we conclude they are shadows ; when God 
 pours them out upon the ground, we are then con- 
 vinced that they were unstable as water : to show us 
 what the best of our creature-enjoyments are, God 
 is forced to take them quite away, that they may be 
 no more. 
 
273 
 
 Now then, in such a case, at such a time, con- 
 verse with the infinite, self- sufficient Fulness of God. 
 Oh ! now it is seasonable, now it is your duty, nay, 
 now it will be your greatest policy. If that channel, 
 that creature-channel, be stopped, in which your 
 affections were wont to run too freely, turn the 
 stream of them into their proper channel, in which 
 they may run freely, and neither ever meet with ob- 
 struction, nor ever overflow. Let your soul grow 
 up into acquaintance and union with God by creature- 
 breaches and disappointments. More particularly, 
 converse with the self-sufficient fulness of God, 
 
 1. By the act of creature-denial. The eyeing of 
 an infinite, absolute, uncreated Fulness in a right 
 manner, takes off the soul from all created objects, 
 earthly things ; even as the beholding the sun in its 
 glory dazzles the eye to all things below. God be- 
 comes so great in the eye of the soul, that it cannot 
 see the poor motes of worldly comforts. Give a 
 soul a feelinff taste of the infinite sweetness and 
 fulness of the fountain, and its thirst after the poor 
 puddles of the world is presently abated, if not per- 
 fectly quenched; according to that of our Saviour, 
 " Whosoever shall drink of the water that I shall 
 give him shall never thirst;" that is, not after any 
 other thing. Like unto which is that gospel pro- 
 mise — " They shall not thirst" who do enjoy these 
 springs of water. When this fountain is opened in 
 the eye of the soul, and the soul begins to taste of 
 it, it longs to drink deeper of that indeed ; but as for 
 all other waters, waters of the cistern, the soul looks 
 upon them as not being, or at least as being bitter 
 waters of Marah in comparison. We do then truly 
 M 3 
 
274 
 
 converse with the infinite self-sufficient fuhiess of 
 God, when we look upon all created good with a 
 noble disdain, are content to part with it ; or, if we 
 do still enjoy it, arc resolved to enjoy it only in God, 
 and so look upon it, and love it, only as a beam from 
 the Fathei of lights, as a drop of the infinite Foun- 
 tain of all perfections. Tell me, is it not a poor and 
 low thing that many professors do, who acknowledge 
 and magnify the uncreated goodness, the fulness of 
 God, and yet at the same time do covet and court 
 the creature with all eagerness, and their worldliness 
 is apparently too hard for their religion ? Methinks 
 I hear God speaking to such seeming friends, as 
 Delilah to Samson — " How canst thou say, I love 
 thee, when thy heart is not with me ?" To these 
 men's hearts, methinks, our Saviour's doctrine should 
 strike cold — " Where your treasure is, there will 
 your heart be also ;" and those words of his beloved 
 apostle — " If any man love the world, the love of 
 the Father is not in him." Let a man pretend and 
 profess what he will, and in words magnify the ful- 
 ness and sufficiency of God as much as he will, if" in 
 the meantime his soul be bound up in the creature, 
 such a man's rehgion is vain ; nay, indeed, his profes- 
 sion of God becomes a real reproachhig of him, and 
 a blasphemy against reason itself. Let your low 
 esteem of all created good in comparison of the su- 
 preme Good, your readiness to quit your title to every 
 creature-comfort, and, in the meantime, your care to 
 live beside it, witness the true and honourable es- 
 teem, the true and feeling sense, that you have iii 
 your hearts of the infinite and self-sufficient fulness 
 of God: for however men may make a shift to cheat 
 
TI5 
 
 themselves, God is not truly great in the soul, till 
 all other things hecome as nothing ; neither doth the 
 soul rightly converse with his infinite fulness, so long 
 as any thing stands in opposition to it, or competi- 
 tion with it. 
 
 2. Converse with the self-sufficient Fulness of 
 God by the grace of faith ; I mean by that act of it 
 whereby we do interest ourselves, and, as it were, 
 wrap up our own souls in this fulness, and make it 
 our own. And herein there is no danger of an 
 humble soul's being too bold or venturous; for the 
 proclamation is full, and the invitation free — " Who- 
 soever will, let him take the water of life freely." 
 What Seneca says of the soul, in regard of the di- 
 vine original of it, may sure be better said of a godly 
 soul, in respect of the divine nature and qualities of 
 it — " It doth not converse with things divine as with 
 another's, but as its own." And, indeed, we cannot 
 truly and comfortably converse with the infinite per- 
 fection and fulness of God, if we have no title to it : 
 but then we converse with God, when we converse 
 with our own God, not another's ; when the soul is 
 able to say,' All the fulness of power, wisdom, good- 
 ness, is all mine in my head Christ Jesus ; for in him 
 all this fulness dwells, and he dwelleth in me; in 
 him are hid all these treasures, and " my life also is 
 hid with Christ in God." You see, then, that a soul 
 cannot converse with the infinite fulness and self- 
 sufficiency of God but by Christ ; for it is in and i)y 
 him that we receive of divine fulness. The fulness 
 of a fountain is nothing to me, except it be mine. 
 " There is bread enough in my father's house," says 
 the poor prodigal, " but for all that I perish with 
 
276 
 
 hunger:" so is there livmg waters evermore in this 
 uncreated Life, this infinite Spring of all perfection ; 
 yet many souls are choked with thirst, because the 
 Fountain is not theirs; it is " a fountain sealed," as 
 Solomon speaks in another case. " The well is 
 deep," and they " have nothing to draw with," as 
 the woman said to Christ concerning another well. 
 Therefore, be sure you get an interest in the ful- 
 ness and sufficiency of God, or, as Solomon speaks 
 in another case, " Drink waters out of thine own 
 well." 
 
 3. Converse with the self-sufficient Fulness of 
 God, by delighting yourselves in it. Drink of this 
 fountain, yea, drink abundantly, ye beloved of God ; 
 yea, lie down by it ; yea, bathe yourselves wholly in 
 it; " enter into the joy of your Lord," lie down in 
 his bosom, spread yourselves in his love and fulness. 
 The beloved disciple leaning upon the breast of his 
 Lord at supper, was but a dark shadow, a poor scanty 
 resemblance of a beloved soul, which, by the lovely 
 acts of joy, confidence, and delight, lays itself down 
 in the bosom of Jesus, and doth not feed with him, 
 but feed upon him, and his all-sufficiency. Then do 
 we converse indeed feelingly and comfortably with 
 the infinite fulness, when the soul is swallowed up 
 in it, doth rest in it, is filled with it, and centred 
 upon it. O the noble and free-born spirit of true 
 religion, that, disdaining the pursuit of low and cre- 
 ated tilings, is carried out with delight to feed, and 
 dwell, and live upon uncreated fulness ! Then is a 
 soul raised to its just altitude, to the very height of 
 its being, when it can spend all its powers upon the 
 supreme and self-sufficient Good, spreading and 
 
277 
 
 stretching itself upon God with full contentment, 
 
 and wrapping up itself entirely in him. This is the 
 
 soul's way of living above losses ; and he that so lives, 
 
 though he may often be a loser, yet shall never be 
 
 at a loss. He who feeds upon created goodness or 
 
 sweetness, may soon eat himself out of all : the stock 
 
 will be spent, and, which is worse, the soul will be 
 
 dried up, that hath nothing else to nourish it. But 
 
 he who hves upon uncreated fulness is never at a 
 
 loss, though he lose ever so much of the creature : 
 
 for who will value the spilling of a dish of water, who 
 
 hath a well of living water at his door, from whence 
 
 he had that, and can have more as good, thou<j-h not 
 
 the same ? Nay, to speak properly, this is the only 
 
 way to lose nothing; for how can he be properly said 
 
 to lose any thing who possesses all things ? And so 
 
 doth he, I am sure, who is filled with the fulness of 
 
 God. Be sure, therefore, that in the want, in the 
 
 loss of all things, you live upon the fountain-fulness, 
 
 delight yourself in the Lord, after the example of 
 
 the prophet Habakkuk, chap. iii. 17, 18. 
 
 I have gone through the doctrinal part of my 
 discourse upon these words, which was the thing I 
 mainly intended. Many inferences might be drawn 
 from it; but I shall content myself to forbid, and so, 
 as it were, to remove out of the way, some things tliat 
 hinder this great duty, and so shut up all with one 
 word of exhortation. 
 
 1. " Converse not with creature-comforts,'* the 
 poor, low, and scanty enjoyments of this world ; for 
 so I may well call them. Though they be ever so 
 high in the opinion of them wiio have them, and 
 
278 
 
 ever so large as to the proportion that any one hath 
 of them, they are low in comparison of that higli and 
 supreme good for which the soul was made, and 
 scanty as to any real happiness or satisfaction that 
 they can possibly give; for indeed those sinful and 
 sensual souls that take up their rest and happiness 
 most in them, are not properly satisfied, but surfeited ; 
 not filled, but for the present glutted with them. 
 There are many unlawful and hurtful ways of the 
 souPs conversing with created comforts : I will not 
 go over them all, as not intending any large dis- 
 course upon these heads. Converse not with them, 
 fondly delighting in them, and doting upon them : 
 especially take heed of this when God is shaking his 
 rod over any of them. Doth God arise and begin 
 to plead with you in judgment, laying his hand upon 
 any of these, and threatening to take them from 
 you ? O then touch them not ! What an unseemly 
 and indeed monstrous sight is it to see a creature 
 pulling and tugging against his Creator, and main- 
 taining his supposed right against Heaven itself! Is 
 it for a heaven-born soul to stand gazing and doting 
 upon, or passionately weeping over, created friends, 
 carnal liberty, corporeal health, houses made with 
 hands, things below God, yea, and below itself too ? 
 l*ore not too much upon them, value them only in 
 God, and refer them freely to him. If you can say, 
 you have any thing of your own, make much of it, 
 and spare not ; ])ut give unto God the things that 
 are God's : and by the time you have done so, I 
 think you need not dote upon what is left. We 
 ought indeed, at all times, to enjoy all' our creature- 
 comforts with hearts loosed from them ; but if for- 
 
279 
 
 merly our hearts have been too mucli joined to them, 
 it is now time to loosen tliem. 
 
 2. " Converse not with creature-causes in a time 
 of affliction." This is a strange kind of atheistical 
 temper, into which we are very prone to fall. I 
 speak properly when I say fall : for it is indeed a 
 falling down from God in our hearts, in whose in- 
 finite essence all creature-causes are wrapt up, and 
 in whose hand the several successes and events of 
 them all do lie. Let a beast, that judges by sense, 
 kick at the poor thorn that pricks him ; but let ra- 
 tional souls fix upon the highest and supreme Agent, 
 who, in an infinite, powerful, and skilful manner, 
 uses what creature he will, for what end he will, and 
 sends it on an errand which itself knows not. Why 
 do we run hunting poor partridge-instruments upon 
 the mountains of contemplation? shall the noble 
 faculties of an immortal soul spend themselves upon 
 such an inquisition ? or is it just to pursue an inno- 
 cent creature out of breatli, for being an instrument 
 in the hand of God; to quarrel with the sword, be- 
 cause it suffered itself to be drawn ; or beat the air, 
 because it is infected? This were indeed to go out 
 with the king of Israel, with mucli warlike prepara- 
 tion, to catch flies. I deny not but that wise men 
 may look into second causes, and make many pro- 
 fitable observations from them, both for present and 
 future, and all men may and ought to learn many 
 wholesome lessons even from the instrument that 
 afflicts them : but sure I am, a godly man will not 
 dwell upon these; he will not fix here, but readily 
 resolve all into a higher cause, and so falls to con- 
 verse with that: much less will he blame or murmur 
 
280 
 
 at a poor harmless arrow, that flew no farther than 
 it was shot, and pierced no deeper than it was bidden. 
 Yea, though the second cause were a sinful cause, a 
 rational agent, and so consequently actuated by mali- 
 cious and evil prmciples, yet a godly soul knows how 
 to distinguish upon him and his action ; he hates 
 him as a sinner, but comports well enough with him 
 as God's instrument; and though he condemns his 
 action as it varies from God's command, yet he ap- 
 proves of it as being ordered by God's hand and 
 counsel. David hated cursing as much as any man ; 
 yet did he so eye the hand of God in every thing, 
 and comply with it too, that there was a time when 
 he said concerning Shimei, " So let him curse." 
 Concerning this I hinted something before under 
 another head : therefore, 
 
 3. " Converse not with creature-cures, creature- 
 relief." These may indeed be looked out after, and 
 safely made use of when they are found; nay, I will 
 add further, that they are to be sought diligently, 
 and used carefully. Those who know the infinite 
 sovereignty, power, and wisdom of God, will not tie 
 him to means, much less to those or these particular 
 means : but, on the other hand, they that under- 
 stand God's usual and ordinary way of acting, go- 
 verning, and upholding the world, will not tie him 
 up from means ; no, nor expect that he should appear 
 for their relief immediately and miraculously : though 
 if any one have a miraculous faith, truly grounded 
 upon some special and particular promise, I will not 
 contend with him ; only I would desire to see his 
 miraculous faith justified by some miraculous works, 
 wliich I conceive do always attend it. But the con- 
 
281 
 
 verse with creature-cures, which I forbid, is the im- 
 moderate seeking of them, or the inordinate using 
 of them. To seek after means in themselves un- 
 Liwful, can never become lawful : but I speak not of 
 these. For although some are come to that height 
 of atheism and abjuration of God, as to retahi the 
 devil himself for a counsel in a time of straits, as 
 Saul did, and contract with the prince of death for 
 the preservation of life in time of sickness, as Aha- 
 ziah did — and I doubt very many do fall into acquaint- 
 ance with that evil spirit, and receive assistance from 
 liim before they be well aware, by meddling with 
 unphysical, unscriptural, unwarrantable cures — yet 
 the greatest danger is not in these : the greatest 
 danger is of miscarrying about things in themselves 
 lawful; and that is chiefly by those two ways which 
 I named just now. Take heed, therefore, of im- 
 moderate seeking after created helps ; be not anxious, 
 perplexed, tormented in mind by a passionate desire 
 of any of these. O what a raging and unquenchable 
 thirst have many men after creature-cures ! they will 
 move heaven and earth, and almost hell too, (with 
 her in the poet,) but they will find out relief. Give 
 me a physician, or I die, says one : give me trading, 
 good markets, a plentiful crop, or I am undone, says 
 another. What, man ! is thy life wrapt up in a pill, 
 or incorporated into a potion ? Is thy main happi- 
 ness in the abundance of these things here below i 
 or wilt thou say to the whid. Blow here in this quar- 
 ter, and no where else ; tie up the supreme and free 
 Agent to a form and method of working ? Let not 
 such a profane disposition be found amongst us. 
 Again, if you have found out hopeful creature-cures, 
 
282 
 
 take heed of using them in an inordinate manner, 
 laying stress upon them, looking earnestly on them, 
 as though they by their own power and proper virtue 
 could make the lame to walk, or the sick to recover. 
 Eye not, much less depend upon, the virtue of any- 
 created means, as distinct from God; but acknow- 
 ledge the power, and virtue, and goodness of every 
 created being, to be the power, and virtue, and 
 goodness of God in that creature; and so conse- 
 quently use it in subordination and subserviency to 
 the supreme Cause, who can at pleasure let loose 
 or suspend the influences and virtues of every such 
 means. 
 
 4. " Converse not with creature-losses in a time 
 of affliction." The sinful soul that hath strayed 
 from God, and centred upon the creature, is always 
 intemperate and restless ; if it be disappointed in its 
 converse with creature-cures, and sees that for all 
 these his comforts are cut off, health, liberty, friends, 
 are perished; then he falls to converse with his 
 losses, and spends the powers of his soul in discon- 
 tents, and many dismal passions. " O then, alas ! 
 I am undone ! What shall I do for the hundred 
 talents ? I am the only man that hath seen affliction ; 
 no sorrow like unto my sorrow. I shall go softly 
 all my days, for the joy of my heart is perished, the 
 delight of mine eyes is cut off." Thus Rachel weeps 
 for her children, and will not be comforted ; Rizpah 
 attends the carcasses of her sons, and will not be 
 parted from them. It is a strange thing that a soul 
 should live upon its losses ; and yet how many do so ? 
 Their very soul cleaves to the dust,- where their 
 creature-comforts are interred; whose souls are so 
 
283 
 
 much bound up in the creature, that they will needs 
 live and die together with them. If God smites the 
 gourd, and make it to wither, Jonah droops, and will 
 needs die too. If Joseph be missing a while, Jacob 
 will not be comforted; no, he will go down into the 
 grave unto his son mourning. Who wouhl have 
 thought to have heard such words from such wise 
 men as a prophet and a patriarch ? Oh the strange 
 and unbounded power which this unseemly creature- 
 love hath obtained over the best of men ! which 
 makes me call him a happy man, almost more than a 
 man, a compeer of angels, who hath learned to con- 
 verse with God alone. Well, converse not with 
 creature-losses ; let not your soul take up its lodging 
 by the carcasses of your created comforts, with Riz- 
 pah ; dwell not upon the lowest round of the ladder, 
 but climb up by it to the meaning of God, and to 
 some higher good, and more excellent attainment. 
 They live to their loss who live upon their losses, 
 who dwell upon the dark side of the dispensation ; 
 for every dark providence hath one bright side, 
 wherein a godly soul may take comfort, if he be not 
 wanting to himself. 
 
 5. " Converse not with flesh and blood." By 
 flesh and blood, I suppose the apostle means no more 
 than men — " I conferred not with flesh and blood." 
 And indeed, if we confer with men only for counsel, 
 and repair to men only for comfort, in a time of afflic- 
 tion, we shoot short of the mark. But by flesh and 
 blood the Scripture elsewhere often means man in 
 this his animal state, as he is in his corruptible, mortal 
 body, as I Cor. xv. .50. and many other places. And 
 in this sense I speak, when I say, converse not with 
 
284 
 
 flesh and blood. Judge not according to your senses ; 
 let not your own sensual appetite determine what is 
 good or evil, sweet or bitter : consult with rectified 
 reason, and not with brutish appetite ; confer with 
 faith, and not with fancy. Rectified reason will 
 judge that to be really good which our sensual ap- 
 petite dictates ; an enlightened mind will judge that 
 to make for the interest of the soul, and its eternal 
 happy state, which sense judges hurtful to the inter- 
 est of the body and its animal state. It is not pos- 
 sible there should be any order, nor consequently 
 any peace or rest in that soul, where the inferior 
 faculties domineer over the superior, and sensitive 
 powers lord it over the intellectual, and where raging 
 appetite and extravagant fancy must clamber up into 
 the throne to deteraiine cases, and right reason must 
 stoop and bow before it. 
 
 Be admonished to fly converse with all these, if 
 you would converse rightly, purely, properly, com- 
 fortably with God, which is the highest office and 
 attainment of created nature. Consider what I have 
 said concerning this excellent and high employment, 
 and awaken your souls, and all the powers of them, 
 to meet the Lord God, and converse with him aright 
 in the way of his judgments. Converse with God, 
 with God in Christ, with God in his promises, with 
 God in his attributes; and labour to do it, not specu- 
 latively, notionally, but really, practically, according 
 as I have directed in the foregoing discourse. Re- 
 ligion is not an empty, airy, notional thing ; it is not 
 a matter of thinking nor of talking, but it hath a 
 real existence in the soul, and doth as- really distin- 
 guish, though not specifically, one man from another, 
 
285 
 
 as reason distinguishes all men from lieasts. Con- 
 verse with God is set out in Scripture hy living 
 and walking, and the like. Let me inculcate this 
 thing therefore again, and press it upon you, and I 
 shall finish all. As the way of glorifying God in 
 the world is not hy a mere thinking of him, or en- 
 tertaining some notion of his glory into our heads, 
 but consists in a real participation of his image in a 
 God-like disposition, and holy conversation, accord- 
 ing to that of our Saviour, " Herein is my Father 
 glorified, in that ye bear much fruit ;" so the way of 
 conrersino- with God in his several attributes is not 
 thinking often with ourselves, and telling one an- 
 other, that God is just, wise, and merciful, though this 
 be good; but it is a drinking in the virtue and value 
 of these divine perfections, a working of them in^o 
 the soul, and, on the other hand, the soul's render- 
 ing of itself up to God in those acts of grace wbich 
 suit with such attributes, as in water face answereth 
 face. I do not call bare performance of duties a 
 conversing with God; prayer and meditation, ^c. 
 are excellent means, in and by which our soul con- 
 verses with God : but communion witli God is pro- 
 perly somewhat more spiritual, real, powerful, and 
 divine, according as I described it just now. As, 
 for example, the soul receives the impressions of 
 divine sovereignity into it, and gives up itself unto 
 God in the grace of self-denial, and humble subjec- 
 tion — the soul receives the connnunication of divine 
 Fulness and Perfection, and entertains the same with 
 delight and complacency, and, as it were, grows full in 
 it ; even as the communications of the virtues of the 
 sun are answered with life, and warmth, and growth, 
 
286 
 
 in the plants of the earth. So a soul's conversing 
 with the attributes of God is not an empty notion of 
 them, or a dry discourse concerning them, but a re- 
 ception of impressions from them, and a reciproca- 
 tion to them : the effluxes of these from God are 
 such as do beget reflections in man towards God. 
 This is to know Christ, to grow up in him unto all 
 things, according to that passage — " Whosoever 
 sinneth hath not seen him, neither known him." 
 
FAREWELL TO LIFE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 6. 
 
 Whilst we are at home in the hody^ ijoe are absent from 
 the Lord. 
 
 The holy apostle having, in the first verse of this 
 chapter, laid down the doctrine of eternal glory, which 
 shall follow upon this transitory state of believers, 
 shows, in the following verses, how he himseli' longed 
 within himself, and groaned after that happy state ; 
 and then proceeds to give a double ground of this 
 his confident expectation. The one is in verse 5. 
 where the apostle is confident concerning the putting 
 oflP of this mortal body, because God had wrought 
 and formed him for this state of glory, and already 
 given him an earnest of it, even his Holy Spirit ; the 
 other irround of the confidence and settledness of his 
 mind as to his desires of a change, is taken from his 
 present state in the body, which was but poor and 
 uncomfortable in comparison of that glorious state 
 held forth in the words of the text — " Therefore wc 
 are always confident, knowing that whilst we arc at 
 home in the body, we are absent from the Lord." 
 
288 
 
 For I do not take the words, " we are confident," 
 concerning the apostle's resolvedness, with a quiet 
 and soher mind to suffer any kind of persecution or 
 affliction whatever ; but " we are always confident" — 
 that is, we do with confidence expect, or at least we 
 are always well satisfied, contented, well resolved in 
 our minds, concerning our departure out of this life : 
 for the apostle was speaking, not of afflictions or per- 
 secutions in the former verses, hut indeed of death, 
 which he calls a dissolving of " the earthly house of 
 this tabernacle," verse 1. and a being " clothed upon 
 with our house w^iich is from heaven," verses 2, 4. 
 Yea, and thus the apostle explains himself, verse 8. 
 where he tells you what he means by this his confi- 
 dence : " We are confident, and willing rather to he 
 absent from the body ;" where the latter words are 
 expository of the former : as if he should say. It is 
 better to be with the Lord than in this m.ortal body; 
 but we cannot be with the Lord whilst we are in this 
 body; it keeps us from him: therefore we have tlie 
 confidence to part with it. It is the reason of the 
 apostle's confidence and willingness to part with the 
 body, that I am to speak of; and the reason is, be- 
 cause this body keeps Inm from his Lord : " Whilst 
 we are at home in the body, we are absent from the 
 Lord." The words are a metaphor, and are to be 
 translated thus — " We, indwelling in the body, do 
 dwell out from the Lord ;" which our translation 
 renders well, takhig little notice of this metaphor, 
 " Whilst we are at liome in the body, we are absent 
 from the Lord ;" though, indeed, if they had left out 
 that word, " <it honir,^^ it would have" been as well, 
 and so have neglected the metaphor altogether, as we 
 
589 
 
 may haply hint hereafter. The words are a reason 
 of the apostle's wilHngness to be dissolved, and con- 
 tain a kind of an accusation of the body, and so seem 
 to lay a blame upon it, and upon this animal life, 
 which must be remembered. Now, for the former 
 phrase, of being " at home in the body," it is easily 
 understood, and generally, I think, agreed upon, to 
 be no more than whilst we carry about with us this 
 corruptible flesh, whilst we live this natural, animal 
 life, it only signifies man in his compounded animal 
 state, and doth not at all allude to his sinful, unre- 
 generate, or carnal state ; but the latter phrase, " ab- 
 sent from the Lord," is capable of a double sense, 
 both good and true, and I think both fit enough to 
 the context and drift of the apostle. I shall speak 
 to both, but insist most upon the latter. 
 
 I. " Whilst we are in the body, we are absent 
 from the Lord ;" that is, from the bodily presence of 
 the Lord in heaven, absent from Christ Jesus and 
 his glory ; and so the words are the same in sense 
 with " Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom 
 of God :" for, by flesh and blood, there must needs 
 be meant man in this animal, corruptible state. And 
 so the apostle accuses this kind of life in the body, 
 and, as it were, blames it for standing between him 
 and his glorified Lord; and so, consequently, between 
 him and the glory of his Lord. And this sense 
 doth well airree with what went ])efore, and with what 
 follows. The apostle hatli a great mind to depart ; 
 for whilst he is in the body, he is absent from his 
 perfect happiness : for this is the consunmiation of a 
 Christian's happiness, to be with the Lord, to bo 
 admitted to a beholding of his infinite glory, as np- 
 N 12 
 
^^90 
 
 pears by our Saviour's earnest prayer for this : " Fa- 
 ther, I will that they also whom thou hast given me, 
 he with me where J am, that they may behold my 
 glory." Besides, if we shall see him as he is, we 
 must also needs be made like unto him, else how can 
 we be fit to live for ever in his presence ? Now are 
 we kept from this seeing and beholding of the Lord 
 in glory by this animal life : it stands between us and 
 the crown, between us and our Master's joy, between 
 us and the perfect enjoyment of God. To be with 
 the Lord, is a state of perfect freedom from sin. 
 No unclean thing shall or can enter into heaven. 
 A perfect freedom from all manner of afflictions : 
 " There shall be no more sorrow, nor crying, nor 
 pain, and all tears shall be wiped away from their 
 eyes." A state of freedom from all temptations to 
 sin ; for a tempting devil, and all tempting lusts, shall 
 be cast out for ever : a state of perfect peace, without 
 the least disturbance from within or from without : 
 of perfect joy, that shall never have end or abatement : 
 and of perfect holiness, when the whole soul shall he 
 enlarged, and raised to know, and love, and enjoy, 
 the blessed God, as much as created nature is capa- 
 ble. This is the happy state of seeing God, of be- 
 ing with the Lord ; and it is our corruptible body, 
 this animal life, that interposes between us and it ; 
 so that the apostle is confident, and rather willing to 
 depart, and be with the Lord, than stay here, and 
 be without him. 
 
 n. " Whilst we are at home in the body, we are 
 absent from the Lord," without any reference to the 
 world to come ; and so it may be fitly translated, 
 ' distant from the Lord, estranged from God.' This 
 
291 
 
 agrees well with the context and scope of the apostle 
 also. And thus the words are also a good ground 
 of the apostle's resolution and willingness to die : as 
 if he should say, I am willing to be absent from this 
 body ; for whilst I am in it I find myself to be at a 
 great distance from God. And indeed the word, 
 sxdtjfiiJVf signifies properly, to be at a distance, or 
 to be estranged : so I find it interpreted by a learned 
 critic, without any mystery, (as he speaks,) of the 
 distance that even believers themselves stand at from 
 God in this life. And in this sense I shall choose 
 to prosecute the words. In which sense the apostle 
 blames this body and animal life, because it keeps us 
 at a distance from God ; is a clog, a snare, a fetter, 
 a pinion to the soul : and so the words do agree in 
 sense with those of our Saviour, " The spirit is will- 
 ing, but the flesh is weak :" where, by tlie flesh, 
 must needs be understood the body, if we consider 
 the context; namely, the occasion upon which the 
 words were spoken, the sleepiness of the apostles ; 
 or if we consider the propriety of speech, according 
 to the style of the New Testament. True, indeed, 
 the corruption of nature is sometimes called " flesh;" 
 but, according to that way of speaking, our Saviour 
 would rather have said, that ' the spirit was willing, 
 but the flesh was strong ;' as he saith elsewhere, that 
 the strong man armed kept the house. 
 
 Now to explain this doctrine a little, " That even 
 the godly themselves, whilst they are in tliis body, 
 are at a distance from the Lord." It must be 
 granted, that the godly soul is nigh unto God, even 
 whilst it sojourns in this mortal body, and tottering 
 flesh. All souls are involved in the apostacy of 
 N 2 
 
292 
 
 Adam, and are fallen down from God, have alike 
 strayed from their God, and are sunk into self and 
 tlie creature : God opened a way for their return by 
 the blood of Jesus; for we owe it unto Christ's death, 
 not only that God is reconciled to us, pardoning our 
 sins, but that any of our natures become reconciled 
 to God, by accepting of him as our God, and lovinjo; 
 liim as the chiefest good. Now there is a double 
 being brought nigh to God by Christ. The first is 
 more general, external, and, as I may say, rational : 
 thus the partition-wall being broken down, the Gen- 
 tiles that were converted from their idolatry to a 
 profession of God and Christ, and admitted to a 
 communion with the visible church, are, upon that 
 account, said to be brethren to the rest of God's 
 children : and as to the church, they are said to be 
 within it, though, at the same time, they were for- 
 nicators, covetous, drunkards ; and as to God, they 
 are said to be made nigh. A professing of God is 
 said to be a being nigh to him ; and even an external 
 performance is said to be a drawing nigh to him ; and 
 so Nadab and Abihu, even in the offering of strange 
 fire, are said to have drawn nic^h to God. And this, 
 tiiough it be a privilege, yet it is not that honourable 
 privilege of the truly godly souls, who are by Christ 
 Jesus raised up to God in their hearts, and reconciled 
 to him in their natures, and united to him in their 
 iff'ections, and so arc made nigh unto him in a more 
 especial and spiritual manner. Thus all sinful and 
 wicked souls, notwithstanding all their profession and 
 ])erformances, are far from God — estranged from the 
 life of God. Enmity and dissimilitude are the most 
 ro;iI distance from God, and truly godlike souls are 
 
293 
 
 IWO 
 
 only nigh unto him; they dwell in him, and he d\ 
 eth in them, as in his most proper temple. As to 
 any kind of apposition, no man can draw nigh to 
 God, nor by any local accession ; for so all men are 
 alike nigh to him, who is every where, and the worst 
 as well as the best of men do live and move in him. 
 But they are really nigh unto God who do enjoy 
 him; and they only enjoy him, whose natures are con- 
 formable to him in a way of love, goodness, and god- 
 like perfections. We do not enjoy God by any 
 gross and external conjunction with him : but we en- 
 joy him, and are nigh unto him, by an internal union; 
 " when a divine Spirit inform eth and acteth our souls, 
 and derives a divine life into them and through them." 
 And so a godly soul only is really and happily nigh 
 unto God. Thus the apostle Paul, I believe, was as 
 nigh unto God as any man in the world; who did not 
 only live and move in God, as all men do, (thougii 
 few understand it,) hut God did even live, and, as it 
 were, breathe in him. The very life that he lived, 
 was " by faith in the Son of God;" for though he 
 walked in the flesh, yet he did not walk after tlie 
 flesh. And yet this gracious soul, even as all other 
 believers, was at a distance from God ; and that not 
 so much by reason of his being a creature, for of tiiat 
 he doth not speak, (so the very angels of God are at 
 an infinite distance from God,) but by reason of this 
 mortal body, and animal life, which hindered him 
 from being so nigh to God as his soul w;is capable to 
 be : " Whilst we are in the body, we are absent from 
 the Lord;" that is, at a great distance from God. 
 
 1. We are distant from God, " as to that know- 
 ledge which we shall have of him." Philosophical 
 
294 
 
 divines speak of a threefold knowledge: — 1st, An 
 essential knowledge of God. This is that unspeak- 
 able light, whereby the Divine Nature comprehends 
 its own essence; wherein God seeth himself. 2d, 
 By science. This, man is capable of in this life. 
 But this kind of knowing of God by way of science, 
 is but a low and dry thing, common to good and bad, 
 men and devils ; and is indeed the perfection of the 
 learned more than of the godly: " and this kind of 
 knowledge of God the glorified soul will reckon but 
 like a fable, or a parable, when it shall be once swal- 
 lowed up in God, feasting upon Truth itself, and 
 seeing God in the pure rays of his own divinity." 
 3d, By intuition. This, man cannot attain to in this 
 life, in its perfection, because it arises from a blissful 
 union with God himself, which in this animal state is 
 imperfect. This, in the Platonic phrase, is a con- 
 tact of God, and, in Scripture language, a beholding 
 of God face to face, which we are not capable of in 
 this animal, concrete state. So may the answer of 
 God to Moses be understood, when he besought 
 God to show him his glory ; that is, to imprint a dis- 
 tinct idea of his Divine Essence upon his mind. 
 *' No man can see me, and live ;" that is, No man 
 in this corruptible state and animal life is capable of 
 seeing me as I am, to apprehend my Divine Essence, 
 to see my face. The vision of God is not in this 
 life, but in the other ; so that a man must die before 
 he can thus know God. Tliis is the exposition of 
 Jewish doctors; and our learned countrymen do ap- 
 prove it also. This blessed knowledge of God we 
 are at a distance from whilst we are in this body : so 
 the apostle declares plainly — " Now we see darkly, 
 
295 
 
 as through a glass ;" hut the time will come when we 
 shall see as we are seen, and know as we are known. 
 Now our body principally hinders the operation ot* 
 our minds, when they do exercise themselves about 
 the nature of God, whilst it presents its fiincies and 
 gross imaginations to the soul ; so it becomes, as it 
 were, a veil upon the face of the soul, draws a cloud, 
 and casts a mist over its eyes, that it cannot discerji 
 distinctly, nor judge properly and spiritually. And 
 with allusion to this, that passage of the apostle is 
 proper and significant, " We see as through a glass," 
 — " which glass is indeed continually sullied and 
 darkened whilst we look into it, by the breathing of 
 our animal fancies and imaginations upon it." Not 
 only those fogs of pride and self-love, and other sinful 
 corruptions, that do arise out of the soul itself, hinder 
 our right perceptions of God ; (as the earth sends out 
 vapours out of itself, which arise and interpose be- 
 tween itself and the sun;) but even the animal fancy 
 casts in its phantasms and imaginations as a mist be- 
 fore the eye of the soul, which through divine grace 
 hath been somewhat enlightened, and cleared from 
 its inbred sinful humours. Though corruption in 
 the mind be as a rheum in its eye, so that it cannot 
 well see, yet that doth not hinder, but that the fancy, 
 by presenting its unspiritual imaginations, doth also 
 cast a mist before it, that it cannot see well, nor 
 judge rightly ; and so it is either held in gross igno- 
 rance, or lapses into error. Hut in tiic regeneration, 
 this sense either shall not be, or shall be pure and 
 spiritual. 
 
 2. Whilst we are in the body, we are distant from 
 God, " as to that service which we ought to perform 
 
296 
 
 to him in the world." And herein it were endless 
 to run through all those outward duties which we 
 owe to God in the body, and to show how the body 
 becomes a hinderance either to them or in them. 
 Though the soul be made willing and forward by a 
 divine principle implanted in it, yet the body remains 
 a body, a weak and sluggish instrument ; and so it 
 will be whilst it is animal — it will go down into the 
 dust a weak body. What man ever had a more 
 willing and cheerful heart than Moses, the friend of 
 God ^ yet his hands were heavy, and ready to hang 
 down. Shall I instance in the excellent duty of 
 preaching and hearing, wherein the spirits of the 
 most spiritual preacher are soon exhausted, the tongue 
 of the learned is ready to cleave to the roof of his 
 mouth, the head is seized with dizziness, the heart 
 with pantings, the organs of speech with weariness, 
 and the knees with trembling ; and the ears of the 
 most devout hearers with heaviness, the eyes with 
 sleepiness, and the whole body in a short time with 
 weakness ? Shall I instance in the noble duty of 
 prayer, wherein the pious soul goes out to God, but 
 can scarce get its body to accompany it ? And there 
 the fancy distracts, the senses divert, and indeed all 
 the members are ready to play the truants, if not the 
 traitors too; especially the brain, where the soul sits 
 enthroned, is suddenly environed with a rude host of 
 sluggish vapours arising from the stomach, and being 
 no longer able to defend itself against them, falls 
 down dead in the midst of them ; insomuch that the 
 poor soul is ready to wish sometimes with the sor- 
 rowful prophet, " O that I had in the wilderness a 
 lodging-place, that I might leave my members, and 
 
297 
 
 go from them, for they are all an assembly of treach- 
 erous servants !" or wish that it were like its Saviour, 
 who could leave his raw disciples asleep, and go and 
 pray apart, and come again unto them. Shall 1 
 instance in that high duty of sustaining martyrdom, 
 bearing persecutions for God ? Come on, my body, 
 cries the holy soul — come on to the stake : come, 
 my head, lay down thyself upon this block : come, 
 my body, compose thyself in this dark dungeon : 
 come, my feet, fit yourselves into these stocks : come, 
 my hands, draw on these fetters, these iron bracelets : 
 come, come drink the cup that my Father gives thee. 
 But oh, how it follows to the stake ! what shaking, 
 shivering, trembling, and reluctancy may you see in 
 tTie whole structure of it ! the head hangs down, 
 the eyes run over, the lips quiver, the shoulders pull 
 back, the hands tremble, the knees knock together, 
 and the whole fabric is ready to tumble down, for 
 fear of falling. Either to this, (as some interpret,) 
 or to that duty of prayer, (as others,) doth that of 
 our Saviour refer — " The spirit indeed is willing, 
 but the flesh is weak." It seems the spirit of the 
 weakest Christian is strong, though the body (as 
 we have seen) of the strongest saint is weak : though 
 indeed it is not properly the weakness that is in the 
 body that I am to speak to, but the influence that 
 the body hath upon the soul to weaken that ; for, 
 whilst the soul sympathizes with the body, attends 
 to it, spares it, pities it, itself becomes almost ill 
 affected to the service of God. I am not so much 
 blaming the body because it had need, by reason of 
 its slothfulness, to be drawn on to duty ; but be- 
 cause, by its influences, it draws on the soul also 
 N 3 
 
298 
 
 from them : for so we find it by woful experience, 
 that if the body do sleep, the soul cannot wake, it 
 cannot hear without the ear, nor see without the 
 eyes ; so that the body's weariness at length ends 
 in the soul's unwillingness, and the weakness of the 
 one grows to be the sin of the other. 
 
 3. Whilst we are in the body, we are at a dis- 
 tance from God, " as to communion with him ;" we 
 are estranged from fellowship with him : and this is 
 indeed to be absent from the Lord. Oh, how many 
 weary and uncomfortable days do poor saints live, 
 at a great distance from their God, their life, their 
 happiness, whilst they are in their worldly pilgrim- 
 age, in their cage of flesh ! Oh, how many days 
 do they forget God, and are apt to think that God 
 hath forgotten them too ! how do they live some- 
 times, as it were, without God in the world, tlieir 
 souls being surfeited with carnal pleasures, benumbed 
 with fears, frozen with self-love, choked with cares, 
 stifled with griefs, and seem to have no more feeling 
 of God, their life, than a body in the dust hath of 
 the soul, its life ! Oh, what a heavy yoke doth the 
 poor soul draw under, when it ploughs to the flesh, 
 and cannot lift up its head to heaven ! Oh, how is 
 our intercourse with God obstructed, our beholding 
 of him obscured, our entertaining of him prevented, 
 our enjoyment of him disturbed and violated, our 
 love to him deadened, and his love to us damped 
 — ours rendered infirm, and his rendered insensible, 
 and all by this marke-bait mortal flesh ! Alas ! what 
 uncertainties and vicissitudes, — what changings and 
 tossings, turnings and windings, are pur poor pil- 
 grim-souls here exercised with ! what breakings and 
 
299 
 
 piercings, reconciliations and fallings out, closing and 
 parting, rising and falling, what ups and downs, what 
 forwards and backwards, doth the poor distressed soul 
 experience in this animal state ! The flourishing 
 soul withers, the lofty soul languishes, the vigorous 
 soul faints, the nimble soul flags, the devout soul 
 swoons, the lively soul sickens, and is ready to give 
 up the ghost : and she that was a while ago resting 
 and glorying in the arms of her Lord, anon lies em- 
 bracing the dust, and hath almost forgotten that ever 
 she was happy ; her peace is violated, her rest is dis- 
 turbed, her converse with heaven interrupted, her 
 incomes from God are few and insensible, her out- 
 goings to him are few aiid lazy, and the rivers of 
 her divine pleasures arc almost dried up, — and all 
 this whilst she is in this body ; and indeed a great 
 part of it by reason of this body in which she is : the 
 animal body keeps us distant from the Lord, that we 
 cannot converse with him, mind him, enjoy him, live 
 upon him and unto him. The body being fitted 
 only for this animal state, is ever drawing down the 
 soul, when it would raise up itself in contemplation 
 of, and communion with, the blessed God. And so, 
 (L) The Necessities of the body hinder the soul's 
 communion with the Lord. Not that the necessities 
 of the body are simply in themselves to be blamed, 
 but the caring for these doth so exercise the soul in 
 this state, that it cannot attend upon God without 
 distraction. Oh, how much doth the necessary car- 
 ing for meat and drink, food and medicine, yt^a, tlu 
 ordering of temporal affairs, estrange from commun- 
 ion and converse with God ! so that the soul, like 
 poor Martha, is cumbered with many cares, and 
 
300 
 
 busied with much serving in this house, and cannot 
 attend so devoutly and entirely as it ought upon the 
 Lord. If the body be pinched with pain, the soul 
 cannot be at rest, but must needs look out for relief: 
 if the body be pinched with hunger and thirst, the 
 soul can take no rest till it have found out a supply for 
 it : if the one be sick, the other is sad : if the one 
 be hungry or thirsty, the other seems to languish ; 
 like Hippocrates' twins, that laughed and cried, lived 
 and died, together. 
 
 It is a wonderful mystery, and a rare secret, how 
 the soul comes to sympathize with the body, and to 
 have not only a knowledge, but, as it were, a feeling 
 of its necessities ; how these come to be conveyed to 
 the soul, and how it cx)mes to be thus affected with 
 them. But we find it so ; and indeed, to speak truth, 
 it seems necessary for the maintaining of this animal 
 state, that it should be so, that the soul should be, as 
 it were, hungry, weary, sick, and sleep too, together 
 with the body. " For if our soul should not know 
 what it is to be hungry, thirsty, cold, or sick, or 
 weary, but by a bare ratiocination, or a dry syllogis- 
 tical inference, without any more especial feeling of 
 these necessities, it would soon suffer the body to 
 languish and decay, and commit it wholly to all 
 changes and casualties ; neither would our own body 
 be any more to us than the body of a plant or of a 
 star, which we do many times view with as much 
 clearness, and contemplate with as much contentment, 
 as we do our own." But, in the meantime, the soul 
 is diverted from its main employment, and turned 
 aside from its communion with God ; not so much by 
 providing somewhat for our bodies to eat, and drink, 
 
301 
 
 and put on, whicli is lawful and needful, as our 
 Saviour implies — as by sinking itself into the body, 
 being passionately and inordinately affected with its 
 wants, and so being sinfully thoughtful, as our Saviour 
 intimates in the same chapter. 
 
 (2.) The Passions of the body hinder the soul's 
 communion with the Lord. So powerful is the in- 
 terest and influence that this body hath in and over 
 the soul, that it fills it with desires, pleasures, griefs, 
 joys, fears, angers, and various passions. The body 
 calls out the soul to attend upon its several passions, 
 which I dare not say are sinful in themselves, as they 
 first affect our souls, no more than it is our sin that 
 we are men : our blessed Saviour seems not to have 
 been free from them, as grief and fear, who yet was 
 free from all sin. Nay, it seems necessary, as I said 
 before, considering the nature of this animal life, that 
 the soul should have the corporeal passions and im- 
 pressions feelingly and powerfully conveyed to it, 
 without which it could not express that due benevo- 
 lence to the body which belongs to it : and, indeed, 
 were it not so, we could not properly be said, in the 
 apostle's phrase here, to be at home in the body, — 
 the soul would rather dwell in any other house than 
 its own. But the soul beiuff called out to attend 
 upon these passions, is easily ensnared by them : for 
 it can hardly exercise itself about them, but it slips 
 insensibly into a sinful inordinacy. As for example, 
 " The animal spirits nimbly playing in the brain, and 
 swiftly flying from thence through the nerves up and 
 down the whole body, do raise the fancy with mirth 
 and cheerfulness, which we must not presently mis- 
 take for the power of grace, nor condemn for the 
 
302 
 
 working of corruption : so also, when the f^all empties 
 its bitter juice into the liver, and that mingles itself 
 with the blood there, it begets fiery spirits, which 
 presently fly up into the brain, and cause impressions 
 of anger." Now, though I dare not say that the 
 souPs first sensating and entertaining of these passions 
 is sinful, yet it is sadly evident, that our souls, being 
 once moved by these undisciplined animal spirits, are 
 very apt to sit upon and cherish those passions of grief, 
 fear, mirth, anger, and, as it were, to work them into 
 itself, in an inordinate manner, and contrary to the 
 dictates of reason ; and so the will presently makes 
 those sinful, which before were but merely human, 
 or, as one calls them, the mere blossomings or shoot- 
 ings forth of animal life within us. We see then, 
 in these particulars, that not only the depraved dis- 
 positions of the soul do keep us at a distance from 
 God, but even this body, also, is a great hinderance 
 to that knowledge of God to which we shall attain, 
 that service of God which we might perform, and 
 that sweet communion with him which we shall enjoy. 
 It is a clog to the- soul that would run, a mist to the 
 soul that would see.clearly, a manacle to the soul that 
 would work, a snare to the soul that would be free, a 
 fetter to chain it to earthly and material things, and, 
 as it were, a pinion to the wings of contemplation. 
 More particularly, it is a hinderance to it, as to these 
 three things which I have named : as to the souPs 
 knowledge of God, the body is an occasion of igno- 
 rance and error ; as to its serving of God, an occasion 
 of distraction and weariness, lightness, and trifling- 
 ness ; and as to its communion with Godj an occasion 
 of earthliness and sensuality. 
 
303 
 
 Now, this distance which this body keeps the soul 
 at from God, might more particularly appear in 
 another way of explication, by observing the especial 
 grievances that arise to the soul from those three 
 great animal faculties, (if I may so speak,) the Senses, 
 the Appetite, the Fancy. 
 
 1. The Senses, I mean the external senses of 
 the body, seeing, hearing, &c. These convey pas- 
 sions to the soul, upon which it subsists and feeds 
 with a sinful fondness and eagerness. Set open the 
 eye, and it will set hard to convey some species of 
 earthly objects to the soul, that shall exclude the 
 ideas of God out of it. Set open the ear, and it 
 will fill the soul with such a noise of earthly tumult, 
 that the secret whispers of the Divine Spirit cannot 
 be heard. The like I may say of the rest. Oh, 
 how easily do these discompose the fixed soul, dis- 
 tract the devout soul, cast a mist before the contem- 
 plative soul, and draw down the raised soul from 
 communion with heaven, to converse with earthly 
 objects ! The souls of most men are quite sunk 
 into their senses, and do nothing but, as it were, 
 become their lackeys all their lives ; and so the ser- 
 vants are on horseback, and princes go on foot. 
 Though the eye will never be satisfied with seeing, 
 nor the ear with hearing, yet forsooth these impor- 
 tunate suitors must be gratified : the eye must se^ 
 what it will see, and the ear must hear what it will 
 hear ; nothing must be withheld from them, that 
 these childish senses do whine after. These men's 
 souls are indeed incarnate, swallowed up in their eyes, 
 ears, and mouths. But not only these, but even 
 godly souls, are often charmed and ensnared by their 
 
504< 
 
 senses : ev6h they converse not only in the body, 
 but too much with it also, and it becomes as a Deli- 
 lah to lull them asleep, and bind them too. Good 
 Job found his senses so treacherous, that he was fain 
 to make a covenant with them ; and well if he could 
 escape even with this. The words are a metaphor; 
 for indeed the worst of it is, that these senses are 
 not capable of any discipline : one cannot bring them 
 into any covenant-terms ; so that whilst we have 
 senses, they will be treacherous ; whilst our eyes are 
 in our heads, they will be wandering after forbidden 
 objects. 
 
 2. The Appetite, the sensitive appetite, which 
 is a faculty of the sensitive soul, whereby this animal 
 man is stirred up to desire and lust after the things 
 which his senses have dictated to him. This bodily 
 lust following upon the neck of the former, becomes 
 a greater snare to the soul : this restless suitor comes 
 whining ever and anon to the soul for every trifle that 
 the eye hath seen, or the ear heard, or the moutli 
 hath tasted, and by its continual coming, and impor- 
 tunate crying, wearies her into an observance of it ; 
 as the fond child comes crying to the mother for 
 every toy that it hath seen upon the stalls, and she, 
 though she cannot in judgment approve of the re- 
 quest, yet, either in fond indulgence, or for peace 
 sake, will condescend to purchase it. This is the 
 daughter of the horse-leech, that cries continually, 
 Give, give. Why, what would it have ? even any 
 thing that it hath seen, or heard, or touched, or 
 tasted — any thing that it sees a fellow- creature to be 
 possessed of: and so indeed the appetite doth not 
 only ensnare the soul unto drunkenness and gluttony, 
 
305 
 
 but voluptuousness, lasciviousness, and all manner of 
 sensualit3^ The evil of the sensual appetite appears 
 in wantonness and lasciviousness, (whether real, ver- 
 bal, or mental,) in immoderate and inordinate trading, 
 engrossing, sporting, building, attiring, sleeping, 
 visiting, as well as in eating and drinking. I will 
 determine nothing concerning the first motions of the 
 appetite, whereby it solicits the will to fulfil it ; only 
 this, that if it solicit to any thing simply and morally 
 evil, it is sinful in that first act, and that at all times 
 it ought carefully to be watched, lest it seduce to 
 intemperance in things lawful. But concerning the 
 gratifying of the appetite, seeing there must be in us 
 a sensitive appetite whilst we are in this animal state, 
 it is to be endeavoured, as far as may be, that we 
 gratify the appetite, not as it is a sensitive appetite, 
 but under this notion, as the thing that it desires 
 makes for our real good, and tends to the enjoyment 
 of the Supreme Good : to cat and drink, not because 
 we are hungry or thirsty, because the appetite desires 
 it, but with reference to the main end, with respect 
 to the highest good, that the body may be enabled, 
 strengthened, and quickened, to wait upon the soul 
 cheerfully, in the actions of a holy life. But to this, 
 man, in his animal state, cannot perfectly attani, 
 which shows that the appetite doth keep us at a dis- 
 tance from God. 
 
 3. The Fancy: this also keeps man at a distance 
 from God, and hinders us in the knowledge and ser- 
 vice of God, and interrupts the soul's communion 
 with God. This is a busy and petulant faculty, or 
 inward sense, and the soul doth readily gratify the 
 passions of it, so that it doth frequently hinder its 
 
306 
 
 mental operations, and becomes a great snare. A 
 working fancy, how much soever it is magnified by 
 the wisdom of this world, is a mighty snare to the 
 soul, except it work in a fellowship with right reason 
 and a sanctified heart. I am persuaded there is no 
 greater burden in the world to a serious soul, espe- 
 cially in hot and dry constitutions, where it is com- 
 monly most pregnant, and most impatient of disci- 
 pline; and, I confess, I have often wondered at the 
 soul's readiness to be so speedily aflPected with the 
 phantasms and imaginations of it, and fondness to 
 cherish them so dearly. This, indeed, if it be so far 
 refined as to present sober and solid imaginations to 
 the mind, and to act in subserviency to sanctified 
 reason, is an excellent handmaid to the soul in many 
 of her functions; but otherwise is a snare, as we 
 have partly observed already, and may observe more, 
 if we study the secrets of our own souls, and the 
 mighty mysteries that are within us. And this doth 
 not only disturb, distract, and hinder, in ordinary 
 duties, but even when the soul is at the highest pitch 
 of communion and contemplation, it endeavours to 
 pull it down to attend to its vain phantasms, and 
 indeed gives it many a grievous fall. I hesitate not 
 to affirm, that this is the most pernicious enemy of 
 the three that I named, to the soul's happiness, as 
 might appear in many respects : I will only name one. 
 It hath an advantage against us, which neither of the 
 other two hath : it infests us, and annoys us, sleeping 
 as well as waking. In sleep, the senses are locked up, 
 and the appetite is, for the most part, silent from its 
 begging ; but then the fancy is as busy and tumul- 
 tuous as ever, forming and gathering imaginations. 
 
307 
 
 ami those are commonly wild and senseless, if not 
 worse. The mind, in way of kindness and benevo- 
 lence to tlie body, suspends its own actions, whilst 
 tlie body takes its rest in the night, and then the 
 rude fancy takes its opportunity to wander at liberty, 
 as being without its keeper, and acts to the distur- 
 bance of the body : but that is not the worst; for it 
 becomes so tumultuous and impetuous sometimes, as 
 that it awakens the mind to attend upon its imagi- 
 nations ; and this the soul doth condescend to in an 
 inordinate manner, and sets the stamp of sinfulness 
 upon them, to its own wounding. And now that I 
 am speaking of sleep in this discourse, I cannot but 
 observe how this very thing also keeps us at a dis- 
 tance from God in this animal state. How is our 
 communion with God interrupted by this ! for herein 
 we cease not only from the actions of an animal life, 
 but commonly from the actions of a spiritual life too. 
 What a great breach, what a sad interruption, is 
 there made in our converse with God by this means ! 
 Such a poor happiness it is that we have in this 
 world, that it is cut off, and seems, as it were, not to 
 be one-fourth part of our time ; for indeed a happi- 
 ness that is not felt, deserves not the name of hap- 
 piness. Some learned and active men have been 
 ashamed that they have slept away so much of their 
 time, which was all too little for their studies and 
 exploits. Ah, poor Christian ! that, as it were, sleeps 
 away so much of his God ; being as much estranged 
 from him in the night, as thougli he had never con- 
 versed with him in the day ; and in the morning when 
 he awakes, cannot always find liimsolf with him either; 
 which is enough to make a poor saint wish, either 
 
308 
 
 that he might have no need of sleep, or that, though 
 he sleep, his heart might wake perpetually. 
 
 We have seen m what sense this mortal body 
 keeps believers absent from the Lord, and in what 
 respects it keeps them at a distance from God, even 
 in this life ; from the knowledge of God, the service 
 of God, and communion with him. Here then, by 
 way of application, 
 
 1. We may see that it was for good reason the 
 blessed apostle is confident and willing to depart; 
 nay, he groans within himself, desiring that " mor- 
 tality might be swallowed up of life," as he speaks, 
 verse 4. I told you before, that these words did 
 contain the reason or ground thereof; and by this 
 time I hope you see that the reason is good, and the 
 ground is sufficient. What ! will the men of this 
 world say, Will you persuade us out of our life ? 
 should any thing in the world make a man weary of 
 his life ? " It is better to exist in misery, than not 
 to exist." The apostle was surely beside himself, or 
 he would never have fallen out with his own life ; or 
 else he was in a passion, and knew not what he said ; 
 or else his life was bitter to him, by reason of the 
 poor, afflicted, persecuted condition that he lived in, 
 and so he was become desperate, and cared not what 
 became of him. No, none of these : the apostle was 
 in his right wits, and in a sober mind too. It was 
 not a passion, or a fit of melancholy, but his judg- 
 ment and choice upon good deliberation ; and there- 
 fore you find him in the same mind elsewhere : " I 
 desire to depart, and be with Christ, which is far 
 better." Besides, he gives a reason for what he 
 desires : but we know that passion is unruly and un- 
 
309 
 
 reasonable. Neither was tlic apostle besiilc him- 
 self, for he gives a good, solid, and wise reason — 
 " Whilst we are at home in the body," &c. — he 
 will part with his life, rather than not be perfectly 
 happy. For, whereas worldlings put such a high 
 price upon life, and think that nothing should per- 
 suade men out of their lives ; (it is true, indeed, it' 
 we speak properly, life is the perfection of the crea- 
 ture ; the happiness of every thing is its life : " A 
 living dog is better than a dead lion ;") but I may 
 say to these, even as our Saviour said to the woman 
 concerning her husband. The life that we live here 
 is not our life. The union of the sensitive soul with 
 the body, is indeed truly and properly the life of a 
 beast, and its greatest happiness, for it is capable of 
 no higher perfection : but the union of the rational 
 soul with God, is the noblest perfection of man, and 
 his highest life ; so that the hfe of a believing soul 
 is not destroyed at death, but perfected. Neither 
 was the apostle weary of his life, because of the ad- 
 versities of it. The apostle was of a braver spirit, 
 surely, than any stoic : he durst live, though he 
 rather desired to die. All the conflicts he endured 
 with the world, never wrung such a sigh from him, as 
 the conflict he had with his own corru])tions did : " C) 
 wretched man !" &c. All the persecutions in the 
 world never made him groan so much as the burden 
 of his flesh doth here, and his great distance from 
 the Lord. A godly soul can converse with perse- 
 cuting men and a tempting devil, can handle briers 
 and thorns, can grapple with any kind of oppressions 
 and adversities in the flesh, without (lesj)ondency, so 
 lon^y as it finds itself in the bosom of God, and in 
 
310 
 
 the arms of Omnipotence ; but when it begins to 
 consider where it is, how far it is from its God, its Hfe, 
 and the happy state that God hath prepared it for, 
 then it cannot but groan within itself, and be ready, 
 with Peter, to cast itself out of the ship, to get to its 
 God, to land itself in eternity. Neither, indeed, to 
 speak truly, is it only the sense of sin against God 
 which sets the godly soul a-longing : for though it 
 myst be confessed that this is a heavy burden upon 
 the soul, yet the apostle makes no complaint of this 
 here, but only of his distance from God, that neces- 
 sary distance from God that the body kept him at. 
 
 2. See here the excellent spirit of true rehgion. 
 Godly souls do groan after a disembodied state, not 
 only because of their sins in the body, but even be- 
 cause of the necessary distance at which the body 
 keeps them from God. We may suppose a godly 
 soul, at some time, to have no manner of affliction in 
 the world to grieve him, no sin unpardoned, unre- 
 pented of, to trouble him : yet for all this, he is not 
 at perfect rest : he is burdened, and groans within 
 himself, because he is at such a distance from that 
 absolute Good whom he longs to know more fami- 
 liarly, and enjoy more fully, than he doth yet, or than 
 is allowed to mortal men ; and though nothing else 
 troubled him, yet the consideration of this distance 
 makes him cry out, " O ! when shall I come and ap- 
 pear before God ?" be wholly swallowed up in him, 
 see him as he is, and converse with him face to fiice. 
 Mere innocency, or freedom from sin, cannot satisfy 
 that noble and large spirit that is in a truly God-like 
 soul : but that spirit of true goodness, being nothing 
 else but an efflux from God himself, carries the soul 
 
Sll 
 
 out after a more intimate union with that Bcincr from 
 whence it came : God dwelUng in the soul, doth, hy a 
 secret mighty power, draw the soul more and more to 
 himself. In a word, a godly soul, that is really 
 touched with the sense of divine sweetness and ful- 
 ness, and impressed with divine goodness and hohness, 
 as the wax is with the stamp of the seal, could not he 
 content to dwell for ever in this khid of animal body, 
 nor take up an eternal rest in this imperfect, mixed 
 state, though it could converse with the world with- 
 out a sinful sullying of itself, but must needs endea- 
 vour still a closer conjunction with God ; and, leaving 
 the chase of all other objects, pant and breathe not 
 only after God alone, but after more and more of 
 him ; and not only when it is under the sense of sin, 
 but most of all when it is under the most powerful 
 influences of divine grace and love, cry out with Paul, 
 " O ! who will deliver me out of this body ?" 
 
 3. Suffer me from hence to expostulate a little, 
 to expostulate with Christian souls about their un- 
 seemly temper. Doth this animal life and mortal 
 body keep us at such a distance from our God, our 
 happiness ? Why are we then so fond of this life 
 and mixed state ? why do we so pamper this body .'' 
 why so anxiously studious to keep it up, so dreadfully 
 afraid of the ruins of it? If we take the apostle's 
 words in the first sense that I named, then I may 
 ask with him in the first verse, " Know we not, that 
 if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, 
 we have a building of God, a house not made with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens?" or, verse 8. Why 
 are we not willinir rather to be " absent from the 
 body," and to be " present with the Lord ?" If we 
 
312 
 
 take them in the latter sense, as this animal body is 
 a hinderance to the soul's knowledge of, and com- 
 munion with God, then I ask concerning this, as the 
 apostle doth concerning rich men, James ii. 6. Why 
 do ye pamper, prize, honour, dote upon this body? 
 Doth not this body oppress you, distract you, bur- 
 den you, clog you, hinder you ? doth not this body 
 interpose between the Sun of Righteousness, between 
 the Father of lights, and your souls, that should shine 
 with a light and glory borrowed from him ; even as 
 the dark body of the earth interposes between the 
 sun and moon, to eclipse its light? why are we not 
 rather weary that we are in the body ? Surely there 
 are some objections, some impediments, to the soul's 
 longing after its happy state ; but I doubt also, that 
 there is something that chains the soul to this ani- 
 mal life, some cords in this earthly tabernacle that 
 tie up the soul in it : but I cannot well imagine what 
 they should be. Say not, there is something of God 
 to be enjoyed in this life, which makes it pleasant ; 
 for although this be true, yet I am sure God gives 
 nothing of himself to a soul thereby to clog it or 
 cloy it. Did Moses send for some clusters of the 
 land of Canaan into the wilderness, think ye, that 
 the people might see and taste the fruits, and sit 
 still, and be satisfied, and say, O, it is enough, we 
 see that there are pleasant things in that land, we 
 will never come at it ? or did he not rather do it that 
 they might make the more haste to possess them- 
 selves of it ? Will any man say, Away, I will have 
 no more land, no more money, I have some already ? 
 Can a godly soul say, God hath given mc an earnest, 
 I desire no more? No, no; but the report that a 
 
313 
 
 Christian hears of a rest remaining, a liappy life re- 
 maining for it, and the chariots of divine graces that 
 he sees God hath sent out into his soul to convey it 
 thither, make him cry out, not with Jacob, " It is 
 enough, Joseph my son is yet ahve ;" but O ! this 
 is not enough, this report is not enough ; it is not 
 enough that I taste some of the good thinjrs of 
 the land, it is not enoucrh that 1 see these carriages 
 sent for me, it is not enougli that my soul hath a 
 happy and honourable life prepared for it ; I see it 
 indeed before I die, but I will also die, that I may 
 see it better, and enjoy it more. But I doubt there 
 is some earthly tic, even upon the heavenly soul, 
 that chains it to this present animal body ; but sure I 
 am, that whatsoever it is, it is but a weak one. Is 
 there any worldly accommodation, any creature-toy, 
 that should in reason step between a soul and its 
 God ? Is this life sweet, because there are creature- 
 comforts to be enjoyed ? And will it not be a better 
 life, when creature-comforts shall not be needed ? 
 And are the pleasures of this body, the comforts of 
 this life, the flattering smiles, the fawning embraces, 
 of the creature, such a mighty contentment to a soul, 
 to a soul acquainted with the highest Good ? Hast 
 thou, O my soul, any such full and satisfying enter- 
 tainment in thy pilgrimage, as to make thee loath to 
 go home? wilt tliou hide thyself with Saul among 
 the stuff, among the lumber of the world, when thou 
 art sought for to l)e crowned ? are the empty sounds 
 of popular applause, the breaking bubbles of secular 
 greatness, the shallow streams of sensual pleasures, 
 the smiles and lisping eloquence of wives and chil- 
 dren, the flying shadows of creature-refreshments, 
 O \2 
 
314 
 
 the momentary flourishes of worldly beauty and 
 bravery, are these meat for a soul? are these the 
 proper object, or the main happiness of such a divine 
 thing as an immortal soul ? Why are we not rather 
 weary of this body, that makes us so weary of hea- 
 venly employment? why do we not rather long to 
 part with that life that parts us from our life ? and 
 instead of the young apostle, " It is good to be here," 
 cry out, with the sweet singer, " O that one would 
 give me the wings of a dove, that I may fly away and 
 be at rest !" 
 
 And now, methinks, by this time I might be 
 somewhat bold, and form my remaining discourse into 
 an exhortation. But it may be you will not bear it 
 all at once ; therefore I will first begin with a dehor- 
 tation, to dissuade from two evils concerning your 
 body, — namely, fear and fondness. 
 
 1. Take heed of fear for the body. I speak not 
 so much of those first impressions which our fancies 
 and animal spirits do make upon our minds, though 
 it were to be wished that the mind did not so much 
 as once entertain these ; but of those acts of the will 
 whereby it doth receive, allow, cherish, these impres- 
 sions, until the cockatrice' egg be hatched into a 
 viper. I speak not against care and circumspection ; 
 no, nor against that kind of suspicion whereby wise 
 and prudent persons are jealous of circumstances and 
 events, and so do watch to prevent, remove, or man- 
 age bodily evils, which is called y<?rt7' ; though even 
 in these there may be an extreme, a " fear where no 
 fear is," which is there ascribed to the wicked, and 
 elsewhere threatened as a judgment. " The sound 
 of a shaken leaf shall chase them." " The Lord 
 
315 
 
 shall give thcc a trembling licart." " A prudent 
 man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself';'' but 
 there are also many fools who hide themselves, though 
 they see no evil. But I am not speaking of these ; 
 there is a vast difference between care and fear. By 
 fear, I mean that trembling, fluctuating, tormenting 
 passion, that doth not suffer the heart to be at rest, 
 but doth, as it were, unhinge it, and loose the joints 
 of the soul, whether it breaks out into expressions or 
 not : it clouds the understanding, unsettles the will, 
 disorders the affections, confounds the memory, and 
 is like an earthquake in the soul, taking it off from 
 its own basis, destroying the consistency of it, and 
 hurling all the faculties into confusion : this, whether 
 it break out into any unseemly acts or not, which 
 commonly it doth, is itself an unseemly temper for a 
 wise man, much more for a godly. I might speak 
 as a philosopher, and show how unbecoming a man, 
 and how destructive to him, this passion is : so much, 
 that whilst it doth predominate, it almost robs him 
 of that which is his greatest glory, even reason itself. 
 But, to say no worse of it, it is very opposite, if not 
 contrary, to that noble grace of faith, whereby the 
 steady soul rests and lodges in the arms of God, as 
 in its centre. But, to speak to the thing in hand, 
 what an unseemly passion is this ? We would have 
 the world to believe that we have laid up our happi- 
 ness in God, and that we are troubled that we are so 
 far from him ; and yet we are afraid lest that should 
 be taking out of the way that keeps us at a distance 
 from him : we flatter ourselves tliat wc nrc in haste 
 for heaven, and yet wc are dreadfully afraid lest our 
 earthly objects should be taken out of tlie way. 
 o 2 
 
316 
 
 How do these things agree together? Are we per- 
 suaded, that if this earthly house of our tabernacle 
 were taken down, we have a building not made with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens ? if not, why do we 
 yet call ourselves Christians? But I think I may 
 take it for granted we are all so persuaded ; and 
 if so, why are we so afraid it should be taken down ? 
 I am loath to speak what I think ; yet methinks the 
 entire and ardent love which we either do bear, or 
 ought to bear, to the blessed God, and union and 
 communion with him, should cast out this fear. This 
 is suitable to Scripture, 1 John iv. 18. I will not 
 dispute how far sinful fear for the body may carry a 
 godly soul : the further the worse, I am sure : but 
 if any will needs be so indulgent to his own passions, 
 and so much an enemy to his own peace, as to en- 
 courage himself to fear, which is a strange thing, 
 from the example of Abraham denying his wife, or 
 Peter denying his Lord, let him compare the issue, 
 and then let me see whether he dare go and do like- 
 wise : but if that will not fright you from fear, ponder 
 upon these two considerations : — 
 
 (1.) I pray you seriously dispute the matter with 
 yourselves, how far fear of sickness and death may 
 consist with that ardent thirst after union and perfect 
 communion with the blessed God, with which we 
 ought to be possessed. 
 
 (2.) Dispute seriously how far it can stand with 
 the sincerity of a Christian. God hath not left us 
 in the dark as to this matter. I will turn you to a 
 passage or two, which, methinks, should strike cold 
 to all slavish, trembling professors — "The wicked 
 travaileth with pain all his days, a dreadful sound is 
 
317 
 
 in his ears." They are the words of EHphaz in- 
 deed, but they do a^^rrce with the words of God him- 
 self: — " The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfuhiess 
 hath surprised the hypocrites." When I read over 
 these passages, I cannot but pray, and cry, O my 
 soul, come not thou into the number of the wicked, 
 and be not united into the assembly of hypocrites ! 
 
 2. Take heed of fondness of the body ; of a double 
 act of it, priding, pampering. 
 
 (1.) Take heed you pride not yourselves in any 
 excellencies of the body. Doth this mortal body 
 keep us at a distance from our God ? do we well, then, 
 to love that which keeps us from that which is most 
 lovely? why then do we stand fondly gazing upon 
 that which keeps us from tb.e blessed sight of God ? 
 If you ask me. Did ever any man hate his own flesh ? 
 I will ask you again, Did ever any wise man love his 
 own flesh above Him that made it? did ever any 
 godly soul love his body in opposition to his God? 
 O, but it is a comely body ! And what is a beauti- 
 ful body but a fair prison ? A silver twist, or a clog 
 of gold, do as really hinder the flight of a bird, and 
 forestall her Hberty, as a stone tied at her heels. 
 Nay, those very excellencies which you so much 
 admire, are so much the greater hindcrances. If 
 we had learned that excellent lesson indeed, of en- 
 joying all things only in God, then the several beau- 
 ties and braveries of the body would be a help to our 
 devotion, they would carry us up to an admiration 
 and contemplation of that glorious and most excel- 
 lent Being from whom they were communicated : 
 so we might, in some sense, look into a glass, and 
 behold the beauty of God. But, alas ! these com- 
 
318 
 
 monly prove the greater snares : many had been more 
 beautiful within, had they been less beautiful with- 
 out; more chaste, if less comely: many had been 
 more peaceable, and more at peace too, if they had 
 been less able to have quarrelled and fought. It 
 was said of Galba, who was an ingenious man, but 
 deformed, that his soul dwelt ill; but, sure I am, it 
 might better have been so said of beautiful Absalom, 
 or Jezebel, whose bodies became a snare to their 
 souls. On the other hand, they that want a beauty 
 in their bodies, will perhaps labour to find an excel- 
 lency in their minds far beyond it; as the philoso- 
 pher advised to look often into a glass, " that if you 
 be deformed, you may correct it by the beauty of 
 your morals." 
 
 (2.) Take heed of pampering the body, of treating 
 it too gently and delicately. Deny it nothing that 
 may fit it for the service of God and your own souls, 
 and allow it no more than may do that. Thy pam- 
 pering is, 1. Unseemly. What ! make a darling of 
 that which keeps us from our Lord ; carry it gently, 
 and delicately, and tenderly towards that, which 
 whilst we carry about with us we cannot be happy ! 
 2. Injurious. If you bring up this servant delicately 
 from a child, you shall have him become your son at 
 length, yea, your master. If you do by your bodies, 
 as the fond king did by his son Adonijah — never dis- 
 please it, never reprove it, never deny it — it will do 
 with you in time as he did, raise seditions in your soul. 
 Go on, and please, and pamper your bodies, and it 
 will come to this at length, that you must deny them 
 nothing ; you must give whatsoever a whinhig appe- 
 tite will crave, go whither your gadding senses will 
 
319 
 
 carry you, and speak whatsoever wanton fancy will 
 suggest. Doth not the hocly itself set us at a suffi- 
 cient distance from God, but we must estrange our- 
 selves more from him by pleasing it, spend the time 
 that should be for God in decking, trimming, and 
 adorning it ? When you do this, you feed a bird 
 that will pick out your eyes ; you nourish a traitor 
 when you gratify this Adonijah. In a word, is it 
 not enough that we do all carry fire in our bosoms, 
 but we must also blow it up into a flame ? " Nay, 
 my brethren, do not so foolishly." 
 
 And now, methinks, by this time, I may venture 
 upon an exhortation, by degrees at least. 
 
 1. " Watch against the body." You have heard 
 how the senses, appetite, and fancy, become a snare 
 to the soul's livintj unto and conversinfj with God. 
 Now then, if you seriously design communion with 
 heaven, if you place your happiness in the know- 
 ledge and enjoyment of that supreme and eternal 
 Good, it becomes you to watch agahist all things that 
 may distract or divert you from it, or make you fall 
 short of the glory of God. Men that live upon earthly 
 designs, whose (rreat ambition it is to be great in the 
 world, do not only use the most effectual means, and 
 take the most direct courses, to accomplish those de- 
 signs, and attain those ends, but do continually sus- 
 pect, and diligently watch agahist, all the moths that 
 wouldcorrupt, the rust that would consume, tlic thieves 
 that would plunder their treasures; and, in a word, 
 against all possible hinderances and disappointments : 
 so will we suspect and watch, surely, against all ene- 
 mies and traitors to our souls, if we live here upon 
 eternal designs, if our ambition be to be great in God 
 
3'20 
 
 alone. And the more imminent the danger is, the 
 more will we watch. Have you not found hy ex- 
 perience, which of tliese three have been most pre- 
 judicial to your communion with God ? If not, you 
 have not been so studious to know the state, nor 
 pursue the happiness, of your own souls as you might : 
 if so, then watch against that most of all which you 
 have found to be most injurious. For it ordinarily 
 comes to pass, either by the difference of constitu- 
 tions, or difference of temptations, or different ways 
 of living, or some other thing, that Ciod's children 
 are more ensnared by some one of these than another. 
 Well, be sure to watch and pray, and strive more 
 especially against the more especial enemies of your 
 souls. 
 
 2. " Live above the body ;" above bodily enjoy- 
 ments, ornaments, and excellencies. Though these 
 bodily enjoyments be ever so sweet, these bodily 
 ornaments ever so glorious, yet is not your happi- 
 ness in these. Certainly they live to their loss, 
 who live upon the excellencies of their own souls, 
 whether natural or supernatural; they deprive them- 
 selves of the infinite glory, fulness, and sufficiency 
 that is in the blessed God, who take up their hap- 
 piness in these : much more do they pinch and im- 
 poverish their own souls, who live upon bodily orna- 
 ments or excellencies, wherein many inferior crea- 
 tures do excel them — the rose in beauty, the sun in 
 brightness, the lion in strength, the stag in swiftness, 
 &c. If a woman were as lovely as the morning, 
 " fair as the moon, dear as the suo," — if a man were 
 full of personal gr;iLC and majesty, " terrible as an 
 army with banners," yet were not their happiness 
 
in these accomplishments. Nay, which is worsr, 
 these ornaments stand between us and our happi- 
 ness. When you begin, therefore, at any time fondlv 
 to admire any of tliese bodily excellencies, then think 
 with yourselves. Oh, but all these do not make my 
 soul happy ! Nay, this beautiful outside must rot, 
 and be deformed ; these fair and flourishing mem- 
 bers must wither in the dust ; this active, strong, and 
 graceful body must be buried in disgrace and weak- 
 ness, before I can attain to entire and perfect happi- 
 ness. This consideration will advance us to live 
 above the body. 
 
 3. " Be content to be disembodied for a time." 
 Is it true, that we can no otherwise be happy, no 
 otherwise be present with God, know him familiarly, 
 enjoy him perfectly and entirely ? cannot we get to 
 him except we go through the dust ? Be it so then : 
 be content to be disembodied for a time. " Let 
 him die, only let him reign," could the heathen say 
 concerning her son : much rather may a Christian 
 say concerning his Father, Let him slay me, so my 
 soul may but reign with him, which is by his reigning 
 in it; let him kill me, so he will but fill me, let him 
 draw me through the dust of the earth, so he will 
 but draw me out of this dust of the world, so he will 
 but draw me niMi unto himself, and brin*; me into a 
 full and inseparable conjunction with my Lord ! 
 Methinks I need not use many arguments to per- 
 suade a soul that is feelingly overpowered, masteicd, 
 ravished, with the infinite beauty, goodness, ;iiory, 
 and fulness of his God, to be willing to quit a dusty 
 tabernacle for a time, wlierein it is ahnost swallowed 
 up, to depart, and to be entirely swallowed up in him. 
 o 3 
 
322 
 
 Nay, suppose a Christian in the lowest form, who 
 hath but chosen God for his highest good and only 
 happiness, as every sincere Christian hath, methinks 
 he should have learned this lesson, to comply with 
 that infinite, perfect will, that governs both him and 
 the whole world. I cannot conceive a godly soul 
 without the subduing of self-will, nor suppose a sin- 
 cere saint void at least of the habit of self-resignation. 
 Therefore I will add no more concerning this, but 
 rise a step higher. 
 
 4. " Long after a disembodied state," desire to 
 depart, and to be with the Lord ; groan within your- 
 selves to have mortality swallowed up of life, in 
 which temper you find the holy apostle. To be 
 content to die is a good temper, a temper scarce to 
 be found, I think, in any wicked man ; not from a 
 right principle, I am sure : but, methinks, it is no 
 very great thing, in comparison of what we should 
 labour to attain to. Think on a little — what a strange 
 kind of cold, uncouth phrase it is, Such a man is con- 
 tent to be happy ! Men are not said to be content 
 to be rich, but covetous ; not willing to be honoured, 
 but ambitious ; and why should ye only be content 
 to be with God? I am persuaded there is no show 
 nor semblance of satisfactory bliss and happiness for 
 a soul, a noble, immortal nature, but only in the su- 
 preme, essential, perfect, absolute Good, the blessed 
 and eternal God : and should not this noble, active 
 bcinff be carried out with vehement loncrin£>:s after 
 its proper and full happiness, as well as this earthly, 
 sluggish body is carried with restless appetite after 
 health, safety, and liberty ? Why should a soul 
 alone be content to be happy, when all other things 
 
323 
 
 in the world do so ardently court, and vehemently 
 pursue, their respective ends and several perfections ? 
 Certainly, if the blessed and glorious God should 
 display himself in all his beauty, and open all his 
 infinite treasures of goodness, and sweetness, and 
 fulness, within the view of a soul, it could not but be 
 ravished with the object, earnestly press into his pre- 
 sence, and, with a holy impatience, throw itself into 
 his arms : there would be no need of setting bounds 
 to the amount, to keep it from breaking through unto 
 the Lord. What is said of the queen of the south, 
 when she had heard the wisdom and seen the glory 
 of Solomon, would be more true of a Christian — 
 there would be no more spirit left in him. Some 
 have therefore observed the wisdom of God in en- 
 gaging the soul in so near a union with the body, 
 that it might care for it, and not quit it : yea, the 
 heathen observed the wisdom of God in concealing 
 the happy state of a separated soul, that so men 
 might be content to live out their time. But, alas ! 
 we see but darkly, as through a glass, and our affec- 
 tions towards God are proportionable to our appre- 
 hensions of him : these are dark, and therefore those 
 are dull. And oh ! would to God they were but 
 indeed proportionable ! for then we sliould love him 
 only, if not earnestly, and desire him entirely, if not 
 sufiiciently. Consider what I have hinted concern- 
 ing the happiness of the soul in the enjoyment of 
 God, and what I have more fully demonstrated con- 
 cerning the body's hindering of it, and keeping it at 
 a distance : and then argue. Is happiness the main 
 end of every being ? must not this soul then, being 
 a noble and immortal nature, needs look out for some 
 
324 
 
 high and noble happiness, suitable to its excellent 
 •elf? can that be any where but in the enjoyment 
 of the highest and uncreated Good? and can this 
 never be attained whilst we are in this animal state ? 
 Oh ! why then do we not look out after so much 
 enjoyment of this blessed God as we are now capa- 
 ble of, and long after a departure hence, that we 
 may enjoy him freely and fully, and be eternally 
 happy in him ? Oh ! be not only content, but even 
 covetous. 
 
 But what ! shall the soul break the cage, that 
 she may take her flight ? God forbid ! how can he 
 pretend to be a lover of God, who is not formed 
 into his will, subject to his ordination, content to 
 abide in the station that he hath allotted him ? But 
 if we may not break it to escape, yet, methinks, it 
 may be safe enough, with submission, to wish it 
 were broken : if we may not, with Saul, dissolve 
 ourselves, yet, with Paul, we may desire to be dis- 
 solved. The perfection that the most Christians 
 attain to, is but to desire to live, and be content to 
 die. Oh ! consider what I have said in this matter, 
 and invert the order of those words in your hearts, 
 " Be content to live — desire to die." 
 
 But what ! would you have us pray for death ? 
 Answer : 1 speak not of a formal praying either for 
 one or other. What the apostle speaks of the 
 greatest of sins, I am ready to say of this state of 
 freedom from all sin, — " I do not say that ye should 
 pray for it." You will tell me, that David and 
 Hczckiah prayed for life, and I can tell you that 
 Elijah prayed for death : he was indeed a man sub- 
 ject to passions, but I believe this was none of them. 
 
325 
 
 But I will not inveigle myself in any controversy : 
 methinks the sad consideration laid before your 
 eyes, Whilst we are in the body, we are absent, 
 distant from the Lord, should wring out an " O 
 wretched man that I am !" &c. or an " I desire to 
 be dissolved ;" or if not words, yet at least a groan 
 after immortaUty, with our apostle here — " We 
 groan within ourselves, that mortality may be swal- 
 lowed up of life." 
 
 But can a soul possibly long for the destruction 
 of the body? Philosophy indeed tells us that it 
 cannot. Be it so ; yet I am sure divinity teaches, 
 that a soul may long after the redemption of the 
 body, the redemption of it from this kind of animal, 
 corruptible, ensnaring condition that it is now in — 
 " Wc fjroan within ourselves, waitin<r for the re- 
 demption of our body." If wc cannot wish to be 
 unclothed, yet we may long to be clothed upon, verse 
 4th of this chapter; at least, methinks, the heathen 
 should not outdo us, who could say, " I am unwilling 
 to die, but I care not when I am dead." But will 
 all cry. Oh ! if we were sure of an interest in Christ, 
 of pardon of sin, of truth, of grace, of eternal life, 
 then we could freely leave all. 
 
 Alls. 1. That is, you would live to be more holy 
 before you die : you are not yet holy enough, no, nor 
 ever shall be till you die. If you long after holi- 
 ness, long to be with God, for that is a state of per- 
 fect holiness. To desire to live, upon pretence of 
 being more holy, is a mere fallacy, a contradiction. 
 But it may be, this is not the meaning of the objec- 
 tion: therefore, 
 
 2. A not having of what wc would have, is not 
 
3^6 
 
 an excuse for not doing what we should do. It is 
 our duty to rejoice in the Lord, which our not hav- 
 ing of assurance doth not exempt us from : though, 
 if we have assurance, we might indeed rejoice the 
 more. But, to take off this plea at once, 
 
 3. Our earnest longings after a full and perfect 
 enjoyment of God, and so our breathings after an 
 immortal state, do not depend upon our assurance, 
 but indeed assurance rather depends upon that. I 
 doubt we are commonly mistaken in the nature of 
 assurance, and, it may be, are in a wrong manner 
 curious about the signs of Christ's appearing in our 
 souls ; for certainly a well-grounded assurance of the 
 love of God, doth most discover and unfold itself in 
 the growth of true godliness in the soul. Now, the 
 love of God, and an earnest desire to be like unto him, 
 and to be with him, is the better half of all religion ; 
 so that it rather seems that assurance springs up from 
 this frame of soul, than that this arises out of assur- 
 ance. If assurance be the thing that you desire, 
 get your souls joined to God in a union of affections, 
 will, and ends ; and then labour and long to be closer 
 to him, likcr to him, perfectly holy and happy in 
 him, and be assured that Christ is in you of a truth : 
 for these mighty works which he hath wrought, these 
 divine breathings, these holy pantings after him, do 
 bear witness of him, 
 
 4. Whether ever you come to that feeling know- 
 ledge, that powerful sense, of your state, or not, 
 which you call assurance, yet know that it is your 
 duty to long after immortality. We are wont to call 
 assurance the privilege of some few; butthc Scrip- 
 ture makes this temper that I am speaking of, the 
 
327 
 
 duty of all believers; which I do the rather uamc, 
 because I find few professors of this temper, and in- 
 deed but few that are willing to believe that they 
 ought to be. Our Saviour calls all believers to as 
 much in effect as I do — " Look up, and lift up your 
 heads, for the day of your redemption draweth nigh :" 
 whereby is not meant a bare posture and speculation, 
 but joy and longing are required by that phrase. 
 Consider further, (which, methinks, should strike 
 cold to the hearts of cold-hearted professors,) that 
 this very temper is made one of the greatest char- 
 acters of true and sincere saints : I do not know of 
 any one oftener named — " We groan within our- 
 selves, waiting for the redemption of our body" — 
 " The Lord shall ffive the crown to them that love 
 his appearing." We should live godly in this pre- 
 sent world, " looking for that blessed hope, and the 
 glorious appearing of the great God, and our Sa- 
 viour, Jesus Christ" — " What manner of persons 
 ought we to be in all holy conversation and godli- 
 ness; looking for and hastening to the coming of 
 the day of God ?" — " Keep yourselves in the love of 
 God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ 
 unto eternal life." Do all these plain and pathetical 
 scriptures stand for ciphers in your eye ? methinks 
 they should not. But not to stand upon the proof 
 of it to be a duty, it matters not whether there be 
 an express command for it or not : this that I am 
 speaking of is not so much the duty of godly persons, 
 as the very nature, genius, and spirit indeed of god- 
 liness itself. Methinks a godly soul, that is truly 
 touched with divine goodness, influenced by it, and 
 impressed with it, as the needle is with the loadstone, 
 
3^8 
 
 must needs strive powerfully within itself to be in 
 conjunction with it: a holy soul, that, after all its 
 wearisome defeats, and shameful disappointments in 
 the creature, finds itself perfectly matched with this 
 infinite, full, and perfect object, must certainly and 
 necessarily be carried, without any other argument, 
 with fervent longings after union to it, and com- 
 munion with it. The spouse might say concerning 
 Christ, as he concerning her, " Or ever I was aware, 
 my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib :" 
 and every godly soul may, in some degree, say with 
 that spouse, " My beloved put in his hand by the 
 hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him : 
 I rose up," &c. Tell me, friends, how can divine 
 grace, that well of living water in the soul, choose 
 but spring up into eternal life ? I hesitate not to 
 affirm, that that which is of God in the soul must 
 needs carry the soul after God : as it belongs to hea- 
 ven, so it will be longing towards heaven. That 
 which is of a divine original, must needs have a di- 
 vine tendency ; that which is of divine extraction, 
 will have in it a divine attraction, and pursue a divine 
 perfection. That divine life and spirit that runs 
 through godly souls, doth awaken and exalt, in some 
 measure, all the powers of them into an active and 
 cheerful sympathy with that absolute Good that ren- 
 ders them completely blessed. Holiness and purity 
 of heart will be attracting God more and more to it- 
 self; and the morq pure our souls are, and the more 
 separate from earthly things, the more earnestly will 
 they endeavour the nearest union that may be with 
 God ; and so, by consequence, methinks they must 
 needs, in some sense, desire the removal of that ani- 
 
329 
 
 mal life and dark body that stands in their way ; for 
 tliey know, tliat that which now lettetli will let, (such 
 is the unchangeable nature of it,) till it be laid in 
 the dust, till it be taken out of the way. The thirsty 
 king did but cry for water of the well of Bethlehem, 
 and his champions broke through the host of the 
 Philistines, and fetched it; and will ye not allow the 
 thirsty soul, if not to break through to fetch it, yet 
 at least to break out into an " Oh, that one would 
 give me to drink " of the living water, of the foun- 
 tain of grace, and peace, and love ? Will you allow 
 hunger to break down stone walls ? and will ye nei- 
 ther allow the hungry soul to break down these mud 
 walls, nor to wish within itself that they were broken 
 down? In a word, then, give me leave earnestly 
 to exhort you to an earnest pressing after perfect 
 fruition of, and eternal converse with God ; and, to 
 change the apostle's words. Seeing we are compassed 
 about with so great a divine light, and glory, and 
 brightness, let us be willing and desirous to lay aside 
 this weight of flesh, and this body, that so easily 
 resists us with sins and snares, and run with eager- 
 ness to the object that is set before us. " Draw me, 
 we will run after thee." Amen, amen. 
 
THE 
 
 ANGELICAL LIFE. 
 
 Matth. xxii. 30. 
 Are as the angels of God in heaven. 
 
 The doctrine of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
 great things of the Christian religion, as they were 
 accounted strange things by all the world when they 
 were first published and preached, so indeed by none 
 less entertained, or rather more opposed, than by the 
 wisest of men living in that age, namely. Scribes, 
 Pharisees, Sadducees, who were the " disputers of 
 this world," as the apostle's phrase is : a thing of 
 wonderful observation, not only to us in our day, but 
 even to our blessed Lord himself in the days of his 
 flesh, who fetches the cause of it from heaven, and 
 adores the infinite wisdom of God in it — " I thank 
 thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because 
 thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, 
 and hast revealed them unto babes." Amongst 
 other set disputations tliat the Sadducees held with 
 our Saviour, the one in this chapter is very famous ; 
 where they dispute against the resurrection of the 
 dead, by an absurd argument, grounded upon an in- 
 stance of a woman that had been married to seven 
 
331 
 
 husbands successively. Now, say they, if there be 
 a resurrection, whose wife shall she be tlien ? Our 
 Saviour answers, by destroying the ground of their 
 argument, and showing that they disputed upon a 
 false supposition; for, saith he, " In the resurrection 
 there shall be no marrying ; but men shall be as the 
 angels of God." In which words this doctrine is 
 plainly laid down, (for I shall not meddle with the 
 controversy,) 
 
 That the glorified saints shall be as the angels of 
 God in heaven. The other evangelists lay down 
 the same truth, see Mark xii. 25. Luke xx. 36. In 
 the explication of which point I will show, 
 
 I. Negatively, wherein the saints shall not be like 
 the angels. 
 
 II. Affirmatively, wherein they shall be like unto 
 them, or, as St. Luke hath it, equal to them. 
 
 I. Negatively. 
 
 1. The fflorified saints shall not be like the an^rels 
 in essence. The angelical essence, and the rational 
 soul, are and shall be different. Souls shall remain 
 souls still, keep their own essence ; the essence shall 
 not be changed ; souls shall not be changed into an- 
 gelical essences. 
 
 2. They shall not be wholly spirits without bodies, 
 as the angels. The spirits of just men now made 
 perfect, are more like to the angels in this sense than 
 they shall be after the resurrection ; for now they are 
 spirits without bodies : but the saints shall" have bo- 
 dies, not such as now, corruptible, not in any thing 
 defective, not needing creature-supplies, but incorup- 
 tible ; glorious bodies, in some sense spiritual bodies : 
 which are described by three characters — incorrup- 
 
332 
 
 tible, (somewhat more than immortal,) glorious, 
 powerful. Neither doth their having bodies any 
 whit abate their perfection or glory, nor render thera 
 inferior to the angels, for even the glorious Re- 
 deemer of the world hath a body, who is yet superior 
 to the angels; and he shall change the vile bodies 
 of the saints, and make them like unto his glorious 
 body. 
 
 3. Neither have we any ground to believe that 
 the saints shall be altogether equal to the angels in 
 dignity and glory; but rather, that as man was at 
 first made a little lower than the angels, so that he 
 shall never come to be exalted altoo^ethcr so hi^jh as 
 they; for it seems that the natural capacity of an 
 angel is greater than of a man, and so shall continue, 
 for they are a distinct kind of creatures. As a beast 
 cannot become so wise and intelligent as a man, for 
 then he would cease to be a beast, so neither can a 
 man become so large and capable as an angel, for 
 then he would cease to be a man. 
 
 II. Affirmatively. 
 
 The glorified saints shall be like the angels of 
 God in heaven — First, in their qualities ; that is, 
 
 1. In being pure and holy. Whether they shall 
 be equal to them in positive holiness or not, I know- 
 not ; whether they shall understand, and know, and 
 love God, in all degrees, as much as the angels — it 
 seems rather that they shall not ; because, as I said 
 before, their capacity shall not be so large. But if 
 in this they be not altogether equal to the angels, 
 yet it implies no impcifection ; for they shall be posi- 
 tively holy, ns far as their nature is capable, and so 
 fchall be perfect in their kind — " The spirits of just 
 
333 
 
 men made perfect :" they shall in this be like unto 
 the angels, if not equal to them, yea, like unto God 
 himself in it — " Be ye holy, as I am holy." But 
 as to negative holiness, the saints shall be even equal 
 to the angels of God in heaven ; that is, they shall 
 have no more sin, no more corruption than they have : 
 they shall be as perfectly freed from all iniquities, 
 imperfections, and infirmities, as the angels. What 
 can be cleaner than that which hath no uncleanncss 
 at all in it ? Why, so clean shall all the saints be — 
 " No unclean thing shall enter into heaven." They 
 shall be without all kind of spot or blemish, which is 
 a perfect negative holiness : more cannot be said of 
 the angels in this respect. As branches of this : 
 
 2. As the holy angels do reverence the divino 
 Majesty — they cover their faces with their wings, 
 crying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts," so 
 shall the glorified saints. You may see what sweet 
 harmony they make, consenting together to give the 
 glory of all to God. The saints stood and cried, 
 " Salvation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, 
 and unto the Lamb ;" the angels stood round about, 
 saying, " Amen, amen." 
 
 3. In their readiness to do the will of God, and 
 " execute his commands ;" therefore the angels arc 
 described to have wings — " with twain they did fly." 
 How God shall please to employ angels or saints in 
 the world to come, is not for us to incpiire : but they 
 shall be alike ready to do his will, and serve his 
 pleasure, whatever it shall be. Even whilst tlic 
 saints are imperfect on earth, they can cry, *' Here 
 am I, send me :" how much more ready shall they 
 be then, when all their fetters are knocked off? 
 
334 
 
 4. They shall be as the angels in their cheerful 
 and unwearied execution of the will of God. So 
 the angels are, and so shall the saints be. The spirit 
 shall then be more willing, and the flesh shall be no 
 more weak, as it is now ; for when it is raised again, 
 it shall be in power. More things of this nature 
 might be added, but I pass lightly over them ; be- 
 cause, although they be true, yet they are not prin- 
 cipally looked at in this text : therefore I come to 
 the second thing, wherein the glorified saints shall 
 be like unto the angels, and that is. 
 
 In their way of living. They shall be like the 
 angels ; that is, saith one truly, /Va/yeXw? jS/ovvrsg, 
 living like the angels. How is that ? our Saviour 
 tells us, " Neither marrying, nor being given in mar- 
 riage :" it is added presently in Luke xx. 36. " For 
 neither can they die any more." If there be no 
 dying, there will be no need of propagation ; if no 
 need of propagation, then why should they marry ? 
 The angels are single, and know no other conjunc- 
 tion but with God in a spiritual manner : no more 
 shall the saints. But what great matter is that, to 
 be like the angels ? what perfection is that ? Many 
 saints, yea, and sinners too upon earth, are so like 
 the angels, nay, and the devils too. Therefore you 
 must know, that our Saviour, under this phrase of 
 *' not marrying," doth comprehend all manner of 
 creature-converse, all kind of living upon and delight- 
 ing in the creature, by a synecdoche of the part, as 
 is ordinary in Scripture : "I have not given upon 
 usury," saith the prophet, " yet the people curse 
 me ;" that is, I have had no dealing in the world, no 
 negotiation. By one kind he understands the whole. 
 
335 
 
 Ezek. XXV. 4. where, by eating their fruits, and 
 drinking their milk, is understood the possession of 
 all that was theirs ; and in many other places the 
 Spirit of God uses this tropical way of speaking. 
 
 The angels of God neither marry, nor are given in 
 marriage ; that is, they live not upon any created 
 good, delight not in any created comfort, but live 
 entirely upon God, converse with him, are everlast- 
 ingly beholding his glory, and delighting themselves 
 in him. Thus shall the glorified saints live for 
 ever ; their bodies shall not need nor use created 
 supphes, food, physic, raiment, &c. which things in 
 this animal state they stand in need of, Matth. vi. 32. 
 But that is not all : for their souls shall not any 
 longer desire nor hanker after any created thing, 
 but, as the angels, shall be possessed of God, filled 
 with the fulness of God : all their powers and facul- 
 ties are perfectly refined and spiritualized, abstracted 
 from all created things, eternally rejoicing and delight- 
 ing themselves in the contemplation and participation 
 of the supreme and infinite Good : for during this 
 earthly and imperfect state, not only the bodies of 
 good men feed upon and are sustained by the crea- 
 tures, in common with other men, but even their 
 souls do taste too much of worldly contentments, and 
 drink too deep of earthly pleasures and creature-com- 
 forts : even the most refined souls upon earth, though 
 they do not properly feed upon any thing below (iod, 
 yet do oft dip the end of tlicir rod in this honey that 
 lies upon the earth, (with Jonathan,) do use their 
 earthly enjoyments, and delight in them, in a way too 
 unspiritual, having abstracted them from God, and 
 lovinjT them with a distinct love. But in the resur- 
 
336 
 
 rectlon it shall not be so ; for the holy soul shall be 
 perfectly conformed to the holy God, shall feed upon 
 him singly, live upon him entirely, be wrapt up in 
 him wholly, and be satisfied with him solely and 
 everlastingly, and so shall they be equal to the angels. 
 The creature, although it does not fill any truly 
 sanctified soul upon earth, yet it hath some room 
 there ; but then it shall be perfectly cast out, and the 
 soul shall be filled with all the fulness of God. The 
 creature is now much in some godly souls, and some- 
 thing in all of them ; but then it shall be nothing at 
 all to them, or in them, but God shall be all in all, 
 ail things in all of them ; as the way of the saints 
 living, and their glorified state is described — " That 
 God may be all in all." " They shall inherit all 
 things." But how is that ? Why, see the expli- 
 cation of it in the following words : " He that over- 
 cometh shall inherit all things, and I will be his God." 
 God will be their God ; God shall be unto them 
 instead of all things. In that state there shall be no 
 need of sun or moon : by which excellent and useful 
 creatures the whole creation seems to be understood ; 
 for they that shall live above the sun and moon, 
 shall certainly live above all things that are below 
 these : but how then ? Why, it follows, "The 
 glory of God shall enlighten them, and the Lamb 
 shall be their light." " And there shall be no night 
 there, and they need no candle, neither light of the 
 sun ; for tlie Lord giveth them light." All happi- 
 ness is derived into them from God, and therefore 
 there shall be no night, no want of any creature- 
 comfort to them ; neither shall they desire any thing 
 more of the creature, whether small or great, whether 
 
337 
 
 candle or sun. For explication of this their hlcsscfl 
 life, let me allude to that of our Saviour, " Tlie fouls 
 of heaven neither sow nor reap, yet God feedetli 
 them :" so the saints in heaven neither want nor 
 desire any created good, for they feed upon God, the 
 supreme and infinite Good : and again, " The lihes 
 neither toil nor spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory 
 was not arrayed like one of these." These blessed 
 souls have no respect at all to things terrene and 
 created ; yet they are so filled and adorned with the 
 glory of the infinite Majesty, that Solomon in all his 
 glory was nothing in comparison of them. In a 
 word, the state of the glorified saints and angels is 
 set out by our Saviour in the same manner, by one 
 and the same description, and that is, the seeing of 
 God : the life of anfjels is called a continual ])ehold- 
 ing of the face of God ; and the state of the saints' 
 glory and happiness is also a seeing of God — " They 
 shall see his face, and his name shall be in their fore- 
 heads." Now this phrase, the seeing of God, aji- 
 plied both to the saints and angels, doth place their 
 happiness in God alone, excluding tlie creature; and 
 it doth import the fulness, and clearness, and certainty 
 of their bliss. 
 
 Thus I have showed you in what sense, though I 
 am not able to show you in what degree, the glorified 
 saints shall be like the angels of God in heaven : their 
 way of living upon the blessed God alone, shall he tiic 
 same with that of the holy angels. 
 
 Application. — From the discovery of the future 
 state of the saints, I find myself filled with indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 p 12 
 
338 
 
 1. Reproof against the carnal conceits tliat many 
 Christians have of heaven. Christians do I call 
 them ? nay, herein they seem rather Mahometans, 
 who place heaven in the full and lasting enjoyment 
 of all creature-comforts ; nay, indeed of sinful and 
 abominable pleasures, as one may read in their Koran. 
 It may be, few Christians are altogether so sensual; 
 but, sure I am, the far greater sort of Christians, so 
 called, are very gross and carnal, at least very low in 
 their conceits of the state of future happiness. Hea- 
 ven is a word as little understood as holiness, and 
 that I am sure is the greatest mystery in the world. 
 It would be tedious to run through the various ap- 
 prehensions of men in this matter, and indeed impos- 
 sible to know them. The common sort of people 
 understand by heaven, either just nothing but a 
 glorious name, or, at best, but a freeness from bodily 
 torment : as nothing of hell affects them but that 
 dreadful word^rt^, so nothing of heaven but the com- 
 fortable word rest, or safety. Others, it may be, 
 think there is something positive in heaven, and they 
 dream of an honourable, easy, pleasant life ; free from 
 such kind of toils, labours, pains, persecutions, re- 
 proaches, and penuries, which men are subject to in 
 this life : this is a true notion, but much below the 
 nature of that happy state. Others are yet more 
 highly affected with the words of glory and glorious, 
 and seem to be much ravished with them ; but are 
 like men in a maze or wonderment, who admire some- 
 thing that they understand not, and are altogether 
 confounded in their own apprehensions of it ; as if a 
 man should be mightily taken with such a fine name 
 as Arabia the Happy, and by a blind fervour of mind 
 
33d 
 
 should desire to go and visit it. Others rise yet 
 higher in their apprehensions of heaven, and look 
 upon it as a holy state ; hut that holiness is negative, 
 a perfect freedom from sin, and all temptation to it : 
 and indeed this is a precious consideration, and that 
 wherein many a weary soul finds much rest : hut yet 
 this amounts not to the life of angels ; it is a lower 
 consideration of heaven than what our Saviour here 
 presents us with. The state of the glorified saints 
 shall not only he a state of freedom from temporal 
 pains or eternal pains, or a freedom from spiritual 
 pains and imperfections, hut a state of perfect positive 
 holiness, pure light, ardent love, spiritual liherty, 
 holy delights ; when all created good shall periectly 
 vanish, all created love shall he swallowed up, the 
 soul shall hecome of a most God-like disj)osition, 
 shining forth in the glory that he shall put upon it. 
 glorying in nothing hut the hlessed God, Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, in his divine image and per- 
 fections, and wrapt up entirely into his infinite ful- 
 ness to all eternity ; which hath made mc ofttimes 
 to nauseate, and indeed to hlamc, the poor low descrip- 
 tions of the kinfrdom of heaven which I have found 
 in books and sermons, for too dry, yea, and gross : 
 which do describe heaven ])rincipally as a place, and 
 give it such circumstances of beauty, firnniess, secu- 
 rity, light, and splendour, pleasant society, good 
 neighbourhood, as they think will most commend an 
 earthly habitation. True, indeed, the Holy CUiost 
 in Scripture is pleased to condescend so tar to our 
 weak capacities, as to describe that glorious state to 
 us by such things as we do best understand, and are 
 apt to be most taken with, and do most gratily our 
 
310 
 
 senses in this world ; as a kingdom, paradise, a glori- 
 ous city, a crown, an inheritance ; but yet it is not 
 the will of God that his enlightened people should 
 rest in such low notions of eternal life ; for in other 
 places, God speaks of the state of glory according to 
 the nature and excellency of it, and not according to 
 the weakness of our understanding, and describes it 
 at another rate, calling it the life of angels ; as, the 
 beholding of God — a coming unto the measure of 
 the stature of the fulness of Christ — God's bein<j all 
 things in us, — it is called a knowing of God, and of 
 his Son Jesus Christ. In a word, which is as high 
 as can be spoken, higher indeed than can be perfectly 
 understood, it is called a being like unto God : " We 
 shall be like unto him." But this use is not so much 
 for reproof, as it is for information, 
 
 2. Here is matter of reproof, yea, and of just 
 indignation against the gross, low, sensual, earthly 
 life of professors, who yet hope to be the children of 
 the resurrection, and to be as angels of God in hea- 
 ven. What ! hope to be like them then, and yet 
 altogether unlike them now ? I speak not in a 
 passion, but out of a just indignation that I have 
 conceived against myself, and against the generality 
 even of saints themselves. I am not going to speak 
 of covetousness, commonly so called : there is a sin 
 much like to it, which is not indeed a single sin, but 
 an evil and unseemly temper, which is earthly-mind- 
 edness, or minding of earthly things ; or if you will, 
 beciiuse I would not be misunderstood, a living upon 
 the creature, or a loving of the creature, with a dis- 
 tinct love. Oh ! the insensible sccrecyj and insuper- 
 able power, of this creature-love ! I cannot sufficiently 
 
3^1 
 
 exclaim against it. ^^'lly clo wc spend noble affec- 
 tions upon such low and empty nothings ? Are we 
 called with such a high calling, think you, that our 
 conversation should be so low? Is the fulness of 
 the fountain yours, and do ye yet delight to bit down 
 by, and bathe yourselves in, the shallow streams ? 
 Is your life hid with Christ in God ? why then do 
 you converse as if your life were bound up in the 
 creature ? Have you laid up your treasure in the 
 blessed God ? what do your hearts tlien so far from 
 it ? Is your happiness in heaven ? why then is not 
 your conversation there too ? Do ye count it your 
 bliss to see God ? what tlien mean those fond glances 
 that ye cast upon created comforts, and that impure 
 love which you bestow on things below ? I mean 
 not only the " bleatings of the sheep, and tlie lowirjgs 
 of the oxen ;" I speak not of the grosser sort of 
 earthly-mindedness, sensuality, or covetousness, but 
 of that more refined and hidden creature-love, a lov- 
 ing of friends, relations, health, liberty, life, and that 
 not in God, but with a love distinct from that love 
 wherewith we love God. To love all tliese in (iod, 
 and for his sake, and as flowing from him, and par- 
 takincr of him, and with the same love wherewith we 
 love God himself, is allowed us : but to love them 
 with a particuhir love, as things distinct from God ; 
 to delight in them merely as creatures, and to follow 
 them as if some good, or happiness, or pleasure, were 
 to be found in them, distinct from what is in God, — 
 this is a branch of spiritual adultery, I had almost 
 said idolatry. To taste a sweetness in the creature, 
 and to see a beauty and goodness in it, is our duty : 
 but then it must be the sweetness of God in it, and 
 
342 
 
 tlie ffoodness of God which we ou^ht alone to taste 
 and see in it. As we say, " The wife shines with 
 the rays of her husband," so more truly, every crea- 
 ture shines but by a borrowed light, and commends 
 unto us the goodness, and sweetness, and fulness 
 of the blessed Creator. You have heard that the 
 glorified souls shall live upon God alone, entirely, 
 wholly, eternally ; and should not the less glorious 
 souls, I mean gracious souls, do so too, in some 
 degree ? yea, even we who are upon earth, and do 
 yet use creatures, should behold all the scattered 
 beams of goodness, sweetness, perfection, that are in 
 these creatures, all united and gathered up in God, 
 and so feeding upon them only in God, and upon 
 God, in all of them. It is the character of wicked 
 and godless men, that they set up and drive a trade 
 for themselves ; live in a way distinct from God, as 
 though they had no dependence upon him : they 
 love the world with a predominant love ; they enjoy 
 creature-comforts in a gross, unspiritual manner ; 
 they dwell upon the dark side of their mercies, they 
 treasure up riches, not only in their chests, but in 
 their hearts ; they feed upon the creature, not only 
 with their bodies, but their very souls do feed upon 
 them ; and thus, in a word, they " live without God 
 in the world." All this is no wonder ; for that 
 which is of the earth, must needs be earthly ; but is 
 it not a monstrous tiling, that a heavenly soul should 
 feed upon earthly trash ? I speak without any 
 hyperbole : the famous king of Babylon, forsaking 
 the society of men, and herding himself with the 
 beasts of the earth, and eating grass with the oxen, 
 was not so absurd a thing, nor half so monstrous or 
 
unseemly, as the children of the Most IIi(rh Crod 
 forsaking the true bread of souls, and feeding upon 
 the low fare of carnal men, even created sweetness, 
 worldly goods : nay, a glorious star falling from its 
 own sphere, and choking itself in the dust, would 
 not be such an eminent piece of baseness ; for what 
 is said of the true God in one sense, is true of the 
 truly godly in this sense — " He that cometh from 
 heaven is above all ;" that is, above all things tliat 
 are below God himself. 
 
 3. Shall this life of angels be also the life of 
 saints ? This may then serve as a powerful con- 
 sideration to mortify in us the love of this animal 
 life, to ma,ke us weary of this low kind of living, 
 and quicken us to long after so blessed a change. 
 Well might the apostle say indeed, that to die was 
 gain ; for is not this gain, to exchange an animal 
 for an anojelical life ? a life which is in some sense 
 common to the very beasts with us, for that whicii 
 in some sense may be called the life of God? For 
 as the blessed and holy God lives upon his own in- 
 finite and self-sufficient fulness, without being be- 
 holden to any thing without himself, so shall the 
 saints live upon him, and upon the self-same infinite 
 fulness, and shall not need any creature-contribu- 
 tions. The apostle indeed saith, that " the last 
 enemy to be destroyed is death," which is true of 
 enemies without us; and it is true with respect to 
 Christ, who shall make a general resurrection from 
 the dead, for that is the proper meaning of it ; but 
 it is true also, that the last enemy to be overcome 
 within us, is the love of hfe ; therefore it is said, that 
 a man will part witli any thing to keep his life : and 
 
3U 
 
 we do generally excuse the matter, and cry, Oh ! 
 life is sweet, life is precious. It must be confessed, 
 and it may be granted — I believe that there is an 
 inclination of the soul to the body, arising from 
 that dear and inconceivable union that God himself 
 hath made of them, which is purely natural, (some 
 say altogether necessary for the maintaining of man 
 in this complex state,) and not in itself sinful. 
 Possibly there may not be found a man upon earth so 
 holy and mortified, in whom this is not found; cer- 
 tainly it is the last hinderance to be removed out of 
 the way of our perfect happiness. This, although 
 in itself natural, yea, necessary, and without blame, 
 yet in the inordinateness of it, ordinarily, if not con- 
 stantly, becomes sinful. I count him the most per- 
 fect man in the world, who loves not his own life 
 with an mordinate sinful love, who loves it only in 
 God, and not wdth a creature-love distinct from 
 God. There are two ways whereby this natural 
 and lawful love of life becomes sinful ; immoderate- 
 ness and inordinateness. Immoderatencss is, when 
 men love their lives at that rate, that they are filled 
 with unreasonable and distracting fears, cares, and 
 thoughts about them, when the whole business of 
 life is almost nothing else but a studiousncss to pre- 
 serve the being of life. Inordinateness is, when 
 men, though they do not love their lives at that ex- 
 cessive rate, yet do love life as a creature-good, not 
 in God, nor in order to him, but lave it for itself, 
 as something out of God. Every carnal man in the 
 world is guilty of the latter, and I doubt but few 
 saints are altogether free from the guilt of it. Now, 
 that this immoderate love of life ought to be sub- 
 
345 
 
 dued in Christians, all men almost will grant : if any 
 will not grant it, we can easily prove it from the 
 command of God — " Take no thought for your 
 life" — " Love not the world, neither the things tlint 
 are in the world." Both which words, in the most 
 favourable interpretation that can be given of them, 
 do, in the judgment of all, forbid immoderation ; nay, 
 a mere philosopher would enforce this from mere 
 moral considerations, which I cannot now stand upon. 
 But this inordinate love of life, as it is a more secret 
 evil, a more refined corruption, is harder to be dis- 
 covered, and men are loath to be convinced of the 
 evil of it. Now, this particular distinct loving of 
 life, not as in God, but in itself, as a creature-good, 
 is clearly condemned in that first and great com- 
 mandment — " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and witli 
 all thy mind ;" as if he should say, God, the supreme, 
 infinite, perfect, original, essential, self-sufficient 
 Good, is to be loved in the highest, and purest, and 
 strongest manner, that the heart of men is capable 
 to love ; and all other things only in him, and under 
 him, and as being of him, and for his sake. Let it 
 be allowed that life is good, yet it must be added, 
 that it is but a created good ; let it l)e allowed that 
 life is comfortable, yet it must be acknowledged that 
 man's chiefest comfort and happiness doth not stand 
 in this animal life. So then, life itself is to be loved 
 in God, who is the fountain and spring of life ; it is 
 to be loved in the quality of a created good, and no 
 otherwise. Now, created goods are to be loved only 
 in the Creator, as coming from him, as partaking of 
 him, as leading to him. Argue the case a little 
 r 3 
 
346 
 
 thus: The soul of man is allowed to love its body, 
 with which the great God hath united it, and to 
 love union with this body, which union we call life; 
 but this body being a creature, and a creature much in- 
 ferior to itself, and much more ignoble than itself, can- 
 not in reason be judged to be the fit and adequate 
 object of its strongest and best affections : that must 
 needs be something more excellent than itself; and 
 that cannot be any thing in this world, (for this 
 world hath nothing so noble, so excellent in it as the 
 soul of man,) it must indeed be the Creator himself. 
 Well, seeing God is the supreme, self-sufficient, 
 perfect Good, he is to be loved with all the strength 
 and powers of the soul, singly and entirely : and the 
 will of God being God himself, is not only to be 
 submitted to, or rested in, but to be chosen and loved 
 above all created things, yea, even above life itself, 
 the best of creatures. So then, if it be the will of 
 God to call for our lives, w^e ought readily to give 
 them up ; because we ought to love the will of God 
 much more than our lives. I pray you be impressed 
 with this, that the will of God being pure, holy, 
 and perfect, should not only be submitted to, or rested 
 in, but even loved and chosen above all creatures. 
 Now, the will of God is not that only whereby he 
 teaches men, and prescribes laws to them, but that 
 whereby he rules and governs the world, and dis- 
 poses of men in any condition of life, or takes away 
 their lives from them. The eternal Fountain of 
 goodness can send forth npthing but what is per- 
 fectly good ; and that which is perfectly good ought 
 to be loved with a universal, pure, and, as far as pos- 
 sible, perfect love. This you will say, perhaps, is 
 
^47 
 
 a high and a hard saying; but let it not sei'in 
 impossible for a man to love his own life only in 
 God, and in subordination to him ; for this God re- 
 quires, and he requires not things impossible — " If 
 any man come after me, and hate not his own life, 
 he cannot be my disciple;" that is, not simply hate 
 it, but in comparison of me and my will. It is not 
 then impossible, nay, you see it is a necessary duty, 
 without which we cannot be Christ's disciples. The 
 saints of old found it possible. Holy Paul gives 
 this answer readily — " I am ready to die at Jeru- 
 salem for the name of the Lord Jesus ;" and *' I 
 count not my life dear unto me, so that I might finish 
 my course with joy." It is witnessed of the whole 
 army of the saints, " that they loved not their lives 
 unto the death :" that is, they did not value them in 
 respect of God and his truth. Neither let any one 
 flatter himself, and say. Yea, if I were called to die 
 for God, I would rather do it than deny him ; for 
 the will of God is as much to be eyed in his sending 
 for us by a natural death as by martyrdom ; and a 
 not giving up our lives to him at any time, is as truly 
 to deny him and his will, as not to give them up 
 at the stake, when we are called to it. Besides, 
 how shall we imagine, that he that is unwilling to 
 die in his bed, should be willing to die at a stake t 
 Now, this duty of being mortified to the love of this 
 animal life being so difficult, yet so necessary, and 
 so noble, how doth it become every saint to study to 
 attain to this perfection ! which that we may, let us 
 press upon ourselves this consideration, this doctrine, 
 that the glorified saints shall live as the angels ol 
 God in heaven. We know that if this boilv were 
 
348 
 
 broken down, this low life cut off, we should live 
 like angels, not being beholden any more to poor 
 creatures for help or comfort, but should be filled 
 with the fulness of God, filled with his image and 
 glory, and live upon him entirely for evermore. Yea, 
 I may add, that this very living above our own lives, 
 merely at the will of God, is a participation of the 
 angelical life even in this world ; therefore labour to 
 be mortified to that love of this life which is here 
 upon earth ; yea, to be weary of it, yea, almost 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 4. Shall we thus live the lives of the angels, sub- 
 sisting in God, feasting upon him, filled with him to 
 all eternity ? This may moderate our sorrow which 
 we conceive for the loss of any created good, houses, 
 lands, husband, wife, children ; yet a little while and 
 we shall not miss them, shall not need them, shall 
 not desire them any more. The blessed angels live 
 a glorious life, and they have none of these, but are 
 perfectly satisfied in the enjoyment of God alone : 
 they have no wives nor children, yet they want none ; 
 and yet a little while, and we shall have none either, 
 neither shall we want them, having all things in the 
 God of all things : they neither marry, nor are given 
 in marriage, but are in conjunction with the Fa- 
 ther, with Love, and Goodness, and Truth itself, 
 and so they have no want of any thing. If you 
 have no candles left in the house, yet it is towards 
 day-break, and the sun will rise upon you, and you 
 shall need none, and yet have light enough too. In 
 a word, learn to live independent of them whilst 
 you have them, and you will be the better able to live 
 without them when they are removed. 
 
349 
 
 5. I come now to the fifth and last use that I 
 shall make of this doctrine ; and C) that you and I 
 may make this happy use of it ! Shall the saints he 
 as the angels of God in their way of living upon 
 God, and enjoying all happiness in him alone for 
 ever? shall this certainly he our life in heaven? 
 O ! then, lahour to hegin this Hfc upon earth. If 
 you cannot perfectly transcrihe, yet at least imitate, 
 that angelical kind of life. Though you are here 
 imprisoned in a hody of earth, and oft cumhercd and 
 clogged with bodily infirmities, and called to tend 
 upon bodily necessities, yet, as far as this animal 
 state will permit, live upon God. Do not excuse 
 nor vindicate that low kind of earthly life, do not 
 justify your living below and besides God, hut stir 
 up yourselves to behold where your happiness lies, 
 and live not willingly below it. Certainly a godly 
 soul hath more than bare hope in this world : God, 
 the blessed, infinite, and communicative Good, hath 
 not locked himself so far out of sight, hut that he 
 gives his people a comfortable beholding of him evqn 
 whilst thev are in their pilgrimage : and what Solo- 
 mon saith of the hfe of the godly, he means it of 
 their present life. " The way of life is above to 
 the wise :" their Hving not only shall be, but is now 
 above; it is a high way of living. They are cer- 
 tainly a puny sort of mechanical Christians, that 
 think and talk only of a heaven to come, and dream 
 of a happiness without them, and distinct from them. 
 The truly godly and godlike soul cannot so content 
 himself; but, being spirited and principled from 
 above, is carried out after the infinite and almighty 
 Good, as a thing is carried towards its centre ; and 
 
350 
 
 hastens into his embraces as the iron hastens to the 
 loadstone, and longs to be in conjunction with it. 
 If therefore ye be from heaven, live above all earthly 
 things : " If ye be risen with Christ, seek the things 
 that are above." If ye be born of God, live upon 
 God. Deny self, live beside self; that is, live not 
 to your lusts, live not to the service of your senses, 
 to the lust of the flesh, to the lust of the eye, to the 
 pride of life ; let not your souls be servants to your 
 sins, no, nor to your senses ; that were for servants 
 to ride on horseback, and princes to walk on foot. 
 Live above self, that is, let your souls quit all their own 
 interest in themselves, and entirely resign themselves 
 to God, as to all points of duty and service. But 
 that is not all ; neither is that it which I urge you 
 to from these words : but live above the creature and 
 whatsoever is in it, namely, delighting in God, con- 
 versing and communing with him alone as the cliief- 
 est Good : desire not any creature any further than 
 as it may help you forward to the Creator; neither 
 delight in it any further than as it either represents 
 some of the divine perfections, witnesses something 
 of divine love, or leads to some divine participation 
 or communion. Seeing we shall come to live upon 
 God, and delight in God alone, without any creature, 
 let us now live upon, love God alone in every crea- 
 ture. Now, to give you a more distinct knowledge 
 of this high and noble life, I will explain it in some 
 particulars, negatively and affirmatively. 
 
 L Negatively. 
 
 1. " Live not upon self." I speak not of living 
 unto self, but live not upon self, self-excellencies, self- 
 sufficiencies, any created accomplishments, which 
 
551 
 
 was the life of tlic Stoics, those great philosophers, 
 who placed happiness in the enjoyment of tlienisclves, 
 which they called " independence of all things." 
 To enjoy one's self indeed is a high duty, a nol)Ie 
 privilege, a duty of the gospel : " Possess ye your 
 souls." But how must we enjoy ourselves ? wliy, 
 only in God. He enjoys himself, 
 
 (1.) Not who, in a sullen melancholy, retires to 
 a solitary and monastic life, as many of tlie sourer 
 sort of Papists do. 
 
 (2.) Nor he who in a proud mood disdains tlic 
 perfections of God shining forth in other men ; and 
 hiding himself from them throu<j:h envv, contents 
 himself to sit and admire his own personal accom- 
 })lishments, as many humorists do. 
 
 (3.) Nor he who, finding nothing without him, nor 
 knowing nothing ahove him, to give his soul her full 
 rest, settles upon a foundation of his own, and ad- 
 mires a self-sufficiency in the tcmj)cr of his own 
 spirit, a little subdued by philosophical precepts, as 
 the Stoics did 
 
 But he who enjoys himself in God ; that is, wljo 
 doth not view himself in tlie narrow point of liis own 
 being, but, taking a view of himself in the unl)ounded 
 essence of God, loves, and enjoys, and vahies him- 
 self, and all his personal excellencies, as he is in CJod, 
 and partakes of his perfections. To live in a way ot 
 self- converse is below the end of man's creation, who 
 was made for a higher good ; and hereby a man sliall 
 never obtain true happiness, for it is peculiar to God 
 alone to be happy in himself. " In a wonl, a soul 
 that confines itself to itself, and lives, and moves, and 
 rejoices, only within the narrow cell of its own parti- 
 
35^ 
 
 cular being, deprives itself of that almighty and ori- 
 ginal Goodness and Glory, that fills the world, and 
 shines through the whole creation." 
 
 2. " Live not upon any creature without your- 
 selves." Self indeed is a creature ; but yet for 
 clearness in proceeding we shall distinguish them. 
 Now, this is the life of the greatest sort of men, — 
 they live beside God, and move only within the 
 sphere of the creature. You will easily understand 
 that I speak not of the bodies living upon the crea- 
 ture, for so God hath appointed that it shall live ; 
 and yet, as to this too, I say with our Saviour, 
 " Man liveth not by bread alone ;" — but I speak of 
 the soul of man living upon the creature as its highest 
 good, and feeding upon it as its best fare : they rise 
 up early, and sit up late, and God is not in their 
 thoughts : they are filled with domestic and foreign 
 comforts, but behold not the Father of lights from 
 whom all these descend : they live upon the good 
 things of the world, yet live without God in the 
 world. Now by these men, 
 
 (1.) I do not mean those heathens that in the 
 most idolatrous manner do, in the literal sense, set 
 up the creatures for God. 
 
 (2.) Nor those Christians that in a most gross 
 ii)anner do make idols of the creatures, and place 
 their happiness in them. 
 
 (3.) No, nor only those earthly professors, who 
 follow tbe world too eagerly, and have such a deep 
 and rooted respect for it, that they can be ordinarily 
 content to suffer creaturc'cmploymcnts to justle God 
 and duties out of their hearts and houses; whose 
 worldliness is apparently too hard for their religion. 
 Who then ? Shall we come any nearer ? Yes : 
 
353 
 
 (4<.) Those are guilty ot" creature-converse who 
 do not enjoy all creatures in God ; who love any 
 thing in any creature with a distinct love, who do 
 not love it only in God; who love silver, gold, 
 houses, lands, trading, friends, with a particular, 
 overweening love. O take heed of this creature- 
 love, of valuing any created thing any otherwise than 
 in God, any otherwise than as heing from God, par- 
 taking of him, and leading to him ! 
 
 3. " Live not upon ordinances." These are 
 God's institutions; love them, cleave unto them, 
 attend upon them, let no temptation cause you to 
 leave them ; but live not upon them, place not your 
 religion, place not your hope, your happiness in them, 
 but love them only in God ; attend upon them, yet 
 not so much upon them, as upon God in them ; lie 
 by the pool, but wait for the angel ; love not, no, 
 not a divine ordinance for its own sake. Why, who 
 doth so ? Alas ! who almost doth not ."' 
 
 (1.) Thus did they in Ezek. xxxiii. 32. who de- 
 lighted in the prophet's eloquence, and in the rhe- 
 toric of his sermons, as much as in a well-tuned 
 voice and harmonious music: and so do thousands in 
 England, who read the Bible for the style or the 
 story's sake, and love to sit under learned and ele- 
 gant discourses, more for accomplishment than for 
 conversion : and swarms of priests, who preach them- 
 selves more than Christ Jesus, even in his own ordi- 
 nances ; as a proud boy rides a horse into the market, 
 to set forth himself more than his master's goods. 
 
 (2.) But there are many not so gross as these, 
 who do yet use ordinances in a way very gross and 
 unspiritual, placing their devotion in them, and sink- 
 
354 
 
 ing their religion into a settled course of hearing or 
 praying ; who will wait upon God, as they call it, at 
 some set and solemn times, new moons, and sabbaths, 
 it may be evening and morning; but religion must 
 not be too busy with them, nor intermeddle in their 
 ordinary affairs, or worldly employments ; it hath no 
 place there ; they do not count it a garment for every 
 day's wear, 
 
 (3.) And not only these, but even almost all men 
 are too apt to seek rest in duties and ordinances, or, 
 at least, to be pretty well satisfied with the work 
 done, whether they have conversed with God there 
 or not. O, if you love your souls, seek your hap- 
 piness higher ! Conversing with divine ordinances, 
 I confess, is honourable and amiable, but it is too 
 low a life for an immortal soul. 
 
 II. Affirmatively. 
 
 Let nothing satisfy you but God himself; take 
 up with no pleasure, no treasure, no portion, no 
 paradise, nay, no heaven, no happiness, below the 
 infinite, supreme, and self-sufficient Good. Let 
 your eye be upon him, and his all-filling fulness ; 
 let your desire be unto him, and to tlie remembrance 
 of his name : follow hard after to know the Lord, 
 and to enjoy the Father through his Son Jesus 
 Christ ; let your fellowship be with the Father, and 
 with the Son, by the Spirit. " O love the Lord, all 
 ye his saints, — love him with all your soul, and with 
 all your strength ;" yea, and keep yourselves always 
 in the love of God; persevere and increase in the 
 love of God — " Keep yourselves in the love of God." 
 O sweet duty ! O amiable, pleasant task ! O sweet 
 and grateful command ! Away ye crowd of creatures, 
 
355 
 
 I must keep my heart for ray God : away, yc ^audy 
 suitors, away, yc glittering toys, there is no room for 
 you ; my whole soul, if its capacity were ten thousand 
 times larger than it is, were too scant to entertain the 
 supreme Good, to let in infinite goodness and fulness. 
 O charge it upon yourselves with the greatest ve- 
 hemence ! — Love the Lord, O my soul, keep thyself" 
 in the love of God; let the love of God constrain 
 you, and keep yourselves under the most powerful 
 constraints of it. In a word, live upon God as upon 
 uncreated life itself, drink at the fountain, feed upon 
 infinite fulness, depend upon almighty power, refer 
 yourselves to unsearchahle wisdom, and unhoundcd 
 love ; see nothing but God in the creature, taste 
 nothing but God in the world, delight yourselves in 
 him, long for communion with him, and communi- 
 cations from him, to receive of his fulness grace for 
 ijrace. Then do we live most like angels, when we 
 live most purely in God, and find all the powers of Our 
 souls spending themselves upon him, and ourselves, 
 our life, and all the comforts of it, flowing from liim, 
 and again swallowed up in him. Ihit because we are 
 yet in the body, I shall explain it in these following 
 particulars : — 
 
 L " Converse with God in all your self-excellen- 
 cies." 1 bade you before not converse with these; 
 now, I say, converse with God in these. Thus do 
 the angels; they know nothing that they have of 
 their own, they enjoy nothing distinct from (iod; 
 they are excellent creatures, excellent in knowledge, 
 power, holiness, &:c. yet they enjoy all their excel- 
 lencies in God, and ascribe them all to him, — and so 
 let us labour to do. 
 
356 
 
 (1.) View yourselves, not in your own particular 
 beings, but in the essence of God ; look upon your- 
 selves as being and subsisting in the midst of an in- 
 finite Essence, in which the whole creation is, as it 
 were, wrapt up, and doth subsist. 
 
 (2.) And whatever excellency you find in your 
 souls or bodies, look not upon it as your own ; main- 
 tain not a mine and thine, a distinction of interests 
 between God and yourselves, but look upon all as 
 God's, and enjoy it in him. 
 
 (3.) When you find yourselves tempted to cast a 
 fond and unchaste look upon the beauty, strength, 
 activity, or temper of your own bodies, upon the in- 
 genuity, wisdom, constancy, courage, composedness 
 of your own souls, take heed of settling into a selfish 
 admiration of any of them, but enjoy them in God, 
 and say. This, O my body, this, O my soul, is no 
 other than the portraiture of the blessed God; these 
 created excellencies are broken beams of the infinite, 
 unspotted, uncreated perfections. Having once at- 
 tained to this, we shall ho longer covet to be ad- 
 mired, desire to be commended, fret at being under- 
 valued ; I mean, not in a selfish manner, but rather 
 break out in a spiritual passion with the Psalmist : 
 " O that men would praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness, and for his wonderful works to the children of 
 
 men 
 
 (4.) Nay, let me add, when you find yourselves 
 ready to put your own stamp upon God's best coin, 
 to look upon supernatural gifts and graces with a 
 shiful, selfish admiration, remember that you have 
 them only in Christ Jesus, and enjoy them in your 
 Head ; lal)our to enjoy grace itself only in Christ, as 
 
357 
 
 the apostle : " I, yet not I, but Clirist in me." " I 
 labour, yet not I, but the grace of God." 80 oufrht 
 we to glory: I believe, I love, I am patient, peni- 
 tent, humble, yet not I, but the grace of God that 
 is with me, Christ Jesus that dwellcth in me. And 
 indeed a godly man, who thus lives at the very height 
 of his own being, yea, and above it too, knows best 
 how to reverence himself, yea, and to love hinisclt 
 too, and yet without any self-love : for he loves him- 
 self in God, and his own endowments as divine or- 
 naments. 
 
 2. " Converse with God, and live upon him m 
 the excellencies of all other creatures, and in all your 
 creature-enjoyments." \\'e cannot live without crea- 
 tures, as the angels do indeed, but let ut come as 
 near them as we can, \rhich is by living above crea- 
 tures : place your happiness in God, and your hearts 
 upon him ; labour to find God all things to you, and 
 in you, and to be filled with his fulness; labour 10 
 get your understandings filled with the knowledge of 
 God, your wills filled with his divine will, your hearts 
 filled with his infinite goodness and sweetness, your 
 memories filled with the remembrance of his name, 
 your whole souls filled with his holy and pure image, 
 filled with the fruits of his Holy Spirit: nay, let 
 these very bodies be filled not only with his good 
 creatures, but more especiaily with his good-will m 
 the creatures. It is said, indeed, of the sensual 
 epicures of the world, that their bellies are filled 
 with God's hid treasures, that is, with rare and pre- 
 cious delicacies; but how nuich Ixtter dotb (iod fill 
 the souls of his saints with bis bid treasures, wben 
 he feedeth them with his divine favour, and dippcth 
 
358 
 
 his hand with them hi the dish ? This is meat in- 
 deed which the saints eat of, which other men, though 
 they feed at the same table, know not of. The glo- 
 rified saints shall be satisfied wholly and perfectly 
 with the divine image shining gloriously on them, 
 and in them; to which purpose that of the Psalmist 
 may be accommodated : " I shall be satisfied when I 
 awake with his likeness." Well, we cannot be so 
 satisfied in this life it seems ; however, though we 
 cannot be so satisfied with it, yet let us not be satis- 
 fied without it, nor satisfied with any thing besides 
 it. Resolve, holy soul, " Well, if I must not be 
 fully satisfied with the image of my heavenly Father 
 till I awake, I will lie down and fall asleep hungry 
 as I am then ; for I will not fill my mouth with chatty 
 nor my soul with husks." But, in the meantime, 
 get what you can of God out of creature-enjoyments. 
 
 (1.) Enjoy all things for God, and that these two 
 ways : 
 
 First, Use all for him. Those riches, honours, in- 
 terests, friends, which are clogs upon the heels of 
 others, let them be as heels to you to carry you hea- 
 ven-ward : let your souls be winged with those very 
 enjoyments wherewith the wings of others are pin- 
 ioned ; and that which is fuel to their w^orldly lusts, 
 let it be as fuel to feed and nourish your spiritual 
 love. To use what we have for God, is the onlv 
 ■way of not abusing it — this is one way of enjoy- 
 ing all for God, to use all for him"; and yet there is 
 something higher in that phrase of enjoying all for 
 God, than this, namely. 
 
 Second, Value no creature-comfort" any fiirther 
 than as it leads to God : and this in a double sense too. 
 
359 
 
 First, Value things to be good only by this, by thrir 
 leading you unto God. Now, God being the su- 
 preme and infinite Good, any thing is so far good 
 as it leads to the enjoyment of him. Now, the en- 
 joyment of God is only in being like to him ; holi- 
 ness is his image ; so then, every thing is good that 
 tends to sanctification, and to make men partakers of 
 a divine nature. We are usually mistaken in the 
 true notion of good and evil, of mercies and judg- 
 ments, judging according to the taste, as foolish pa- 
 tients do: but God's thouj^hts are not as our thoufrhts. 
 Measure all things by the proportion they bear, and 
 the tendency they have, to the supreme Good ; and 
 call not any thing evil that brings nearer to him, nor 
 any thing good that draws off from him. Second, 
 When you have found a thing that is really good, 
 tending and leading to the chief Good, and to the 
 possession of him — labour to enjoy it, and rejoice in 
 it only under this notion, as such : when you love it, 
 let it be with a pure spiritual love ; and so order your 
 delight in it, that it may be said, you do rather re- 
 joice in the end of it than in the enjoyment of it. 
 
 (2.) Another way of living upon God in the crea- 
 ture is, to enjoy all things as partaking of him. 
 " Every good and perfect gift is from above." Every 
 beam of created light floweth out of the Father of 
 lights. When the blessed and glorious God framed 
 this stately fabric of the visible world, hcx-ause there 
 was nothing better in the world than himself, he was 
 pleased to copy out himself in it, and to spread lli^ 
 own infinite perfections over it, and through it, so 
 that every particular good is a blossom of the first 
 Goodness: every created excellency is a dark draught 
 
360 
 
 of God, and a broken beam of this infinite Sun of 
 Righteousness. O labour to do so! Look upon 
 the perfections which you find here below, not so 
 much as the perfections of this or that particular be- 
 ing, but as they are so many drops risen out of the 
 J^^ountain of all perfections, in whom they all meet 
 and are concentrated. It is well expressed by one, 
 " In a particular being, love the universal Goodness;" 
 let the whole world ])e as the garden of God to you, 
 where every creature is a flower, from which you 
 may drink something of the divine sweetness. Alas ! 
 at what a low and sensual rate do we live when we 
 rejoice in creatures, either as they are excellent, or 
 as they are ours ! whereas, indeed, neither of these 
 is true : for they are not excellent, but God is excel- 
 lent in them ; and how can we call any thing our 
 own, when God made us and all things for himself? 
 O how injurious is it to the blessed God, when we 
 rob him of his perfections that he hath imprinted 
 upon the creature, by loving it, and delighting in it, 
 not as in him, but as something distinct from him ! 
 Nay, we are then injurious to ourselves, as we shall 
 see by and by. Labour to enjoy and to converse 
 with God in the creatures. " O how precious are 
 thy thoughts unto me, O God !" cried David, when 
 he had been meditating of the creature's excellencies. 
 Labour to abstract your minds from terrene things, 
 even in the enjoyment of them, and call upon your- 
 selves to love, and live, and feed upon God in them : 
 live not upon the dark side of your mercies, but upon 
 the representations of God in them. Is there any 
 tbino" irood? O this is a taste of infinite ii^oodncss ! 
 Is there any thing sweet? O how sweet is the God 
 
361 
 
 that made it so ! Is there any thing lovely ? It is 
 a picture of Him whose name is Love. Is any tiling 
 firm, stahle, lasting? It is a shadow of that glori- 
 ous Essence with whom there is no shadow of change. 
 Have you any thing strong ? It arises out of that 
 God with whom is everlasting strength. Doth any 
 creature give rest, ease, refreshment? It springs 
 out of the all-satisfying fulness of God. In a word, 
 labour to climb up by every created excellency, as by 
 so many beams, to the Father of lights : let all the 
 world be to you as God's temple, and be ready to 
 say of every place, as Jacob, " How dreadful is this 
 place ! surely this is none other but the house of 
 God;" that God who runs through all created beings, 
 and from himself derives several prints of beauty and 
 excellency all the world over. But especially take 
 heed of your own created comforts, that they do not 
 insensibly lead away your hearts, and ensnare you 
 into a sinful, particular, distinct love of them ; which 
 is a sin soon committed, hardly discerned, and most 
 hardly reformed. If any be freed from these inor- 
 dinate affections, sure they are but few, and those 
 few have come dearly by it, as one said in another 
 case : " With a great sum they have obtained this 
 freedom ; they have paid for it, not with the fore- 
 skins of the Philistines, but with the lives of what 
 they so loved, there being no way to cure this evil 
 distemper but cutting oft' the member infected with 
 it, the part that it fed upon." As a brancli of this 
 head, let me add. Labour to live upon God in tlie 
 excellencies of other men: value them and all their 
 accomphshments oidy in God, as he that did admire 
 God, and enjoy God in them. Wherever you see 
 Q 12 
 
362 
 
 wisdom, goodness, ingenuity, holiness, justice, or any 
 other accompHshment, say, Here, and there is God. 
 And this is the honest way of making ourselves 
 masters of whatever is another man's, and enjoying 
 it as truly as he himself doth, yea, as truly as if it 
 were our own ; when we behold all these beams as 
 coming from the same Fountain of lights, and do 
 love them all in him with a universal love. This is 
 the rare art of having nothing, yet possessing all 
 things; of being rich, though one have nothing: 
 and of being wise, though one know nothing. 
 
 (3.) The last way of living upon God in the crea- 
 ture is, to taste and feed upon the love of God in 
 them ; not only his common bounty, but his special 
 love in Christ. The good- will of God gives a sweet 
 relish to every morsel, as I hinted before. Even in 
 the midst of all your delightful, pleasant, sweet enjoy- 
 ments, let your souls be more affected with this than 
 with them; let this be as the manna, lying upon the 
 top of all your outward comforts, which your spirits 
 may gather up and feed upon. But this I touched 
 upon before ; therefore I shall add no more concern- 
 ing it. Thus I have shown you how you may imi- 
 tate the life of angels, in living upon God, even 
 whilst you live in the body. To this I may add an- 
 other particular or two. 
 
 3. " Converse with God, and live upon him in all 
 Iiis ordinances." Let communion with God be your 
 drift in every duty, and the very life, and soul, and 
 sweetness of every ordinance. You never read of a 
 sou) more thirsty after ordinances than David, as 
 might appear abundantly ; yet, if you look well into 
 the expressions, you will find, that it was not so much 
 
863 
 
 after them, as after God in them ; not after the dead 
 letter, but after the living God : " My soul thirsteth 
 for God, for the living God." " My heart and my 
 flesh crieth out for the living God." Let the word 
 preached or read be as a voice from heaven talking 
 with you; let your conference be a comment upon 
 that word ; let meditation be as a kind of bringing 
 down God into your souls, and prayer as a raising 
 up of your souls unto God; nothing but faith and 
 love put into praises. And so of all the rest. 
 
 4. " Converse with God in all his providences ;" 
 prosperity, adversity, plenty, penury, health, sickness, 
 peace, and perplexity. This is a large theme : but 
 as to prosperity, I have spoken something aheady, 
 under that head of conversing with God in creature- 
 enjoyments. As for adversity, I have said much 
 more in a large discourse to describe and commend 
 the art of conversing with God in afflictions. Briefly, 
 at this time, converse not with losses, wants, afflic- 
 tions, but with God in them ; and that not only with 
 the justice, righteousness, severity, and sovereignty, 
 of God in them, but with the goodness and mercy of 
 God in them. They are dark providences ; we had 
 not need to dwell altogetlier on the dark side of them. 
 If all the ways of the Lord towards his people be 
 mercy and truth, then his roughest and most dark 
 ways are so too. If God be wholly love, then his 
 very corrections proceed not from hatred. If it l)e 
 his name to be good, and to do good, where have we 
 learned then to call his afflicting providences evils, 
 and to divide evil, which is but one, even as God is 
 one, into sin and affliction? Surely we speak as 
 men ; and if God call them so, he speaks after the 
 O 2 
 
364^ 
 
 manner of men, as he often doth. If the governing 
 will of God be pure, perfect, and infinitely good and 
 righteous, ought we not to converse with it in a free 
 and cheerful manner, yea, and to love it too ? In a 
 word, pore not upon creature-changes, nor the un- 
 certain wheels of motion, that are turning up and 
 down we know not how, nor how oft ; but fix your- 
 selves upon that all-seeing Eye, that unbounded Un- 
 derstanding, that unsearchable and infinite Goodness, 
 that derives itself through the whole universe, and 
 sits in all the wheels of motion, governing all the 
 strange motions of the creatures in a wonderful and 
 powerful manner, and carrying them all in their se- 
 veral orbs to one last and blessed end. 
 
 Thus imitate the angelical life, even whilst you 
 are in the body. Converse with God in self-excel- 
 lencies, in the creature-excellencies, ordinances, pro- 
 vidences : and yet labour to be more like him still ; 
 to abstract your mind from all these, and all material 
 and sensible things, and to converse with God with- 
 out the help of any creature ; I mean in the Spirit, 
 and by a secret feeling of his almighty goodness, and 
 energy of grace, and the communications of a divine 
 life in your souls. In a word, if you would taste of 
 heaven whilst you are upon earth, labour, above all 
 things, for a true conjunction of your hearts with 
 God, in a secret feeling of his goodness, and a reci- 
 procation of love to him; and to find the holy and 
 blessed God exercising his grace and power upon all 
 the faculties of your souls, and rendering them like 
 unto himself, and all these powers of the soul iiaUi- 
 rally spending themselves upon him freely and en- 
 tirely, as upon the chiefest Good, which is their 
 
365 
 
 proper and full object. Seeing the saints in glory 
 shall be like unto the angels of God in tlieir way of 
 living in and upon God alone, receive, 1 pray, this 
 exhortation, which I have so largely prosecuted, and 
 labour to begin that life, as far as you can, upon 
 earth. Is there not reason for such an inference? 
 Doth it not now flow naturally from the doctrine ? 
 If you think it do not, I will add two or three parti- 
 culars, to strengthen this inference, or at least to 
 clear it. 
 
 1. It is highly reasonable that we begin to be that 
 which we expect to be for ever, to learn tliat way of 
 living in which we hope to live to all eternity : so that 
 I infer, upon as strong ground as the apostle, " He 
 that hath this hope purifieth himself, even as Christ 
 is pure." 
 
 2. If this be the life of angels, then it is the higli- 
 est and noblest life that any created being is capable 
 of. As by the bread of angels, and the tongue of 
 angels, the most excellent food, and tlic most excel- 
 lent language, is understood in Scripture, so must we 
 understand this life of angels. Now, it is very suit- 
 able to the reasonable soul, that immortal, noble 
 being, to aim at the highest and noblest life: " What 
 shall a man give in exchange for his soul ?" 
 
 3. This shall not only be our life in heaven, hut 
 itself is something of heaven, a beginning of heaven. 
 This life is not a thing really distinct from life eter- 
 nal : " This is life eternal, to know thee the onlv 
 true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." 
 " Ye have eternal life." Therefore wc rend of 
 eternal life abiding in men, and not abiding in them: 
 " Whoso eateth my flesh hath eternal life." A 
 
366 
 
 holy soul thus deified, thus living in and upon God, 
 is as truly glorified upon earth, in some degree, as 
 the world is enlightened by the morning sun, which 
 is as truly, though not so gloriously, as by the sun 
 in its greatest height. Oh, low and ignoble spirits, 
 who can be satisfied with a happiness which shall 
 only be in the world to come ! Certainly it is true 
 and proper speech to say, that a participation of God 
 is an anticipation of heaven ; and to be like unto him, 
 is to be with him. You see what reason I have to 
 make such an inference, and to form it unto such an 
 earnest exhortation; oh, therefore, I beseech you, 
 before God and his holy angels, to endeavour to be 
 like him, and to live like them ! 
 
 Objection, Say not. How can men on earth live 
 like angels? Ans. I. But fall on and imitate them, 
 though it be with unequal steps ; labour to be as the 
 angels, if you cannot be altogether equal to the an- 
 gels. 2. We are bidden to live the life of God : 
 " Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect." 
 " Be ye holy, for I am holy." If I speak high, 
 how high speak these texts ? 
 
 Objection, Say not, But how can this animal life 
 permit this? Ans, 1. Thus men have lived in the 
 body : thus lived Enoch ; thus lived Paul ; thus lived 
 David, that man after God's own heart, (the greatest 
 and most divine character that can be given of a 
 mortal man,) — " There is none upon earth that I 
 desire besides thee^" 2. Cannot we live in the body 
 except we live to the body ? You see saints upon 
 earth live above other men upon earth;, and yet a 
 little more pains, take the other flight, and you may 
 live above yourselves too, higher than you do. 1 
 
36? 
 
 will only add a motive or two to this duty of living 
 upon God. 
 
 1. " The last enemy to be overcome is creature- 
 love." This is the last enemy that keeps tlie field, 
 by which alone the greatest sort of men do perish 
 everlastingly : beat down this, and you win the day, 
 and shall wear the crown ; nay, the very conquest of 
 it is a crown, as I said before. 
 
 2. To live upon God in the creature, is to enjoy 
 the creature in the best sense. You will lose nothinir 
 
 o 
 
 of the creature by this means, but shall enjoy it more 
 fully than ever you did : for the creature is ten thou- 
 sand times sweeter in God than it is in itself. Yea, 
 in a word, this is the way to enjoy all the world, and 
 to enjoy the accomplishments of all men, and all 
 things, as much as if they were your own. 
 
 3. It is the way never to lose any thing. He 
 that lives upon God spends upon a stock that cannot 
 be wasted, drinks at a fountain that cannot be ex- 
 hausted. So much as we enjoy of God in the crea- 
 ture, we do not lose with it; and that which we do 
 not so enjoy, we deserve to lose. Thus, then, is 
 the secure and honourable life, in comj)arison of 
 which, the life of a prince is but a wallowing in the 
 mire. " Lord, give us evermore this bread," and 
 hearts to feed upon it. Amen. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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''lifellIra?iSf,I.S™'"ar.Librari 
 
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