A TREATISE
ON
SELF-KN OWLEDGE,
BY JOHN  MASON, A.M.
-  E ccele descendit yvwo0 aeavrov.-Juv.
The proper study of mankind is man.-POPE.
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED
A BRIEF MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.
Neuu-Vork.:
PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT,
200 Mulberry-street.
JOSEPH LONGKING, PRINTER.
1851.








consider F Mason on Self-Knowledge
WE consider Mason on. Self-Knowledge
one of the best books which we have ever
read. It was our good fortune to fall in with
an old copy of this work early in our ministerial course, and the impressions which its
perusal left upon the tablet of our heart are
not yet erased. We have uniformly recommended it, especially to the young, as eminently adapted to prepare the mind for efforts
in the pursuit of various knowledge. If we
are ignorant of ourselves, what else can we
know to any good purpose? And in our
efforts to acquire this knowledge, I am persuaded, no book, except the Bible, will render us more effective aid. Its great practical




4               PREFACE.
principles should be deeply impressed upon
the mind of the Christian, the scholar, and
the man of business. The teacher of religion
especially should become perfectly familiar
with them.
In preparing the present edition, it has
been our object to give it to the reader in as
perfect a form as possible. We have consequently used two different editions, and have
availed ourselves of the excellences of both,
We have retained the notes in their appropriate places as inserted by the author,
which, by some editors, have been thrown
into an appendix, and by others omitted altogether. We have also left the text perfect,
which in some editions is mutilated: thus
giving to the public an edition of the work
more complete than any which has been
issued, either in Europe or in this country
in modern times.




PREFACE.               5
The author, in a few instances, proceeds
upon philosophical principles which are
now exploded. Such passages we have not
scrupled to retain, presuming that the intelligent reader will recollect the period in which
he lived, and, moreover, that these principles
are not at all essential to the general scope
of his argument.  We preferred this course
to printing the work in a state of mutilation,
which would make it appear like a work of
more recent date than the times of the author.  If the writers of the last century are
defective in some branches of learning, they
are not barren of thought, a commodity not
always so abundant in the authors of our own
time as to surfeit their readers. We would
by no means undervalue the improvements
of the present age in physical and mental
philosophy; but we are free to confess, that
we would, in some instances, readily exchange a considerable portion of these for a




6t)'PREFACE.
tithe of the intellectual and moral power
wielded by the giants of the preceding century. We love the old English authors, and
we would not lay hands upon the venerable
monuments of their piety and learning without the utmost necessity. With these explanations, we now put this invaluable treasure
into the hands of the reader, most devoutly
praying that it may be made to him a present and an eternal blessing.
GEORGE PECK.
December 11, 1842.




CONTENTS.
PART I.
CHAP.                                        PAGE
I. The nature and importance of the subject  39
II. The several branches of self-knowledge.
We must know what sort of creatures
we are, and what we shall be............. 49
III. The several relations in which we stand to
God, to Christ, and our fellow-creatures.  56
IV. We must duly consider the rank and sta.
tion of life in which Providence hath
placed us, and what it is that becomes
and adorns it.......................  72
V. Every man should be well acquainted with
his own talents and capacities; and in
what manner they are to be exercised and
improved to the greatest advantage......  76
VI. We must be well acquainted with our inabilities, and those things in which we are
naturally deficient, as well as those in
which we excel............................ 79
VII. Concerning the knowledge of our constitutional sins....................................  82
VIII. The knowledge of our most dangerous
temptations necessary to self-knowledge   88




8                   CONTENTS.
CHAP.                                           PAGE
IX. Self-knowledge discovers the secret prejudices of the heart...................  92
X. The necessity and means of knowing our
natural tempers...........................  108
XI. Concerning the secret springs of our ac.
tions.........................        114
XII. Every one that knows himself, is in a particular manner sensible how far he is
governed by a thirst of applause.......  117
XIII. What kind of knowledge we are already
furnished with, and what degree of es.
teem we set upon it........................ 122
XIV. Concerning the knowledge, guard, and government of our thoughts...   128
XV. Concerning the memory............... 144
XVI. Concerning the mental taste................ 148
XVII. Of our great and governing views in life.  154
XVIII, How to know the true state of our souls,
and whether we are fit to die............ 156
PART II.
Showing the great excellence and advantage of this kind of science................ 161
1. Self-knowledge the spring of self-posses.
sion..1...........!62
II. Self-knowledge leads to a wise and steady
conduct....................,.............. 166
III. Humility the effect of self-knowledge...... 168
IV. Charity another effect of self-knowledge.  171
V. Moderation the effect of self-knowledge...  173
VI. Self-knowledge improves the judgment...  176




CONTENTS.                         9
CHAP.                                               PAGE
VII. Self-knowledge directs the proper exercises
of self-denial.179
VIII. Self-knowledge promotes our usefulness in
the world.................................  183
IX. Self-knowledge leads to a decorum and
consistency of character................  185
X. Piety the effect of self-knowledge.........    188
XI. Self-knowledge teaches us rightly to perform the duties of religion................  189
XII. Self-knowledge the best preparation for
death..................................    193
PART III.
Showing how self-knowledge is to be attained........................................   195
I. Self-examination necessary to selfknow.
ledge............... 198
II. Constant watchfulness necessary to selfknowledge........                         216
III. WVe should have some regard to the opin.
ions of others concerning us, especially
of our enemies........2...........18
IV. Frequent converse with superiors a help
to self-knowledge..........................  223
V. Of cultivating such a temper as will
be the best disposition to self-knowledge....................  225
VI. To be sensible of our false knowledge, a
good step to self-knowledge.............  228
VII. Self-inspection peculiarly necessary upon
some particular occasions................ 230




310                 CONTENTS.
CHAP.                                            PAGE
VIII. To know ourselves, we must wholly abstract from external appearances........ 237
IX. The practice of self-knowledge a great
means to promote it......................... 239
X. Fervent and frequent prayer the most
effectual means for attaining true selfknowledge.................................   48




AN
ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE
OF THE
REV. JOHN  MASON, A. MO
THE Rev. John Mason, author of the ensuing Treatise on Self-Knowledge, was born at
Dunmow, in Essex, in the year 1705-6.  His
father was a dissenting minister, and was, we
apprehend, successively pastor to congregations at Daventry in Northamptonshire; Dunmow in Essex; and at Spaldwick in Lincolnshire, at which last place he died, and was
buried in the year 1722-3.  This gentleman
had a brother, the Rev. William  Mason, a
clergyman in the established Church, who, in
the latter part of his life, held two livings, of
which one was in Buckinghamshire, and the
other in Derbyshire.*  They were the children
* From this circumstance a gentleman, who about five years
ago had thoughts of presenting to the public an account of his
relation, the author of Self-Knowledge, suspected that he was




12         LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.
of the Rev. John Mason, A. M., who held the
rectory of Water-Stratford, in  the county of
Bucks, and well known as author of a little
posthumous work, published by his grand-son,
a branch of the same family from which the Rev. William
Mason, a well-known and excellent poet, was descended. He
made the inquiry, and received, in reply, the following letter:"' Aston, April 3, 1797.
" SIR, —I am sorry that I can trace in the simple annals of
my ancestry nothing which can afford me any ground for
claiming either a direct or collateral relationship with Mr.
John Mason of Cheshunt, who I believe to have been an excellent Christian moralist, and whom, therefore, I should have
been more proud of owning for one of my family, than if he
had had part of tlhe blood of all the Howards. My table of
genealogy goes no higher than to Valentine Mason, clerk, who
was born, as I suppose, in the latter part of the reign of Elizabeth, as I find from Torre's MSS. in the cathedral at York,
which are held authertic.doc.uments; that he resigned the
vicarage of Driffield, a very small living, (of which, as precentor of York, I am now patron,) in 1623, for that of Elloughton in the same east riding of Yorkshire, (one I believe, at
that time, little more valuable,) where he died in 1639. He
had three sons and three daughters; two of the sons, I believe,
succeeded in trade at Kingston-upon-Hull, and the third,
William, was brought up to the Church, and had the living
of Wensley, near Richmond, in the north riding, who left a
landed estate in various -parishes in the east riding, of which,
as the last male heir, I am now possessed, and with me the
family name will be extinct. I have a paper of my grandfather's, Hugh Mason, who was collector of -the customs at
the port of Hull, which informs me that Valentine Mason descended, as a younger brother, fromn a Mason of Cheriton,
alias Cherington, in Oxfordshire. But the truth of this (though




LI FE OF R11 EV. JOH RN  iASON.         i3
and recommended by Dr. Watts, entitled, "Select Remains," &c., &c.  In the preface to this
work, the author is represented as a person of
as eminent a character in the religious world
as most ages have produced, and though by
principle a conformist to the established Church
of England, yet he was very far from cherishing a bitter spirit againt dissenters, or such as
I tried by a friend in that county) I could not ascertain, and I
believe it was merely founded on the same arms which all the
Masons, as well as the Masons in France, bear, viz., a lion
bifronted azure on a shield Or. You will, I hope, pardon me
for giving you all these genealogical notices, as it is merely to
show you that all I know of my family is bounded within the
precincts of Yorkshire, and therefore I can claim no alliance
with one seated in Essex or Buckinghamshire.
"' Though you speak much too highly of my poetical productions, your panegyric claims my thanks, which I herewith
give you, and subscribe myself, with due regard, sir,
"Your very much obliged and obedient servant,
4 W. MASON.
"John Mason Good, Esq., Guilford-street."
It has been thought proper to preserve the whole letter, as
it is highly probable that it was the last Mr. Mason ever wrote.
It is dated April the 3d, 1797: on that very day, in consequence of a slight contusion which had previously happened
as he was getting into his carriage, a mortification ensued,
which in forty-eight hours put a period to his life. "The character," says his biographer, " with which he ought to be
handed down to posterity, is that of a man virtuous in his
morals, amiable in his manners, and ornamental in the republic
of letters."  See the Annual Necrtologyfor 1797-8.




1       LIFtE 01F REV. JOHN MASON.
differed from him in opinion. He died at Water-Stratford in the county of Bucks, A. D. 1694,
having been rector of that place twenty years.
His fervour of spirit in the cause of God and
religion was uncommon.  His learning was
considerable, his capacity above the common
level, and his application extraordinary.
We have not been able to ascertain to whom
the subject of this memoir was indebted for the
earlier part of his education; but he pursued
his academical studies as a candidate for the
ministry under the Rev. and learned John Jennings, who presided at a very respectable seminary at Kibworth in Leicestershire about the
year 1719, and afterward removed to Hinckley
in the same county. When he had finished his
studies, he became chaplain and private tutor
in the family of Governor Feaks, at his seat
near Hatfield.  He could not have remained
very long in this situation, as, in the year
1729-30, he accepted an invitation to the pastoral charge of a congregation at Dorking in
Surry. It was not till after Mr. Mason had resided ten years at Dorking that he became
known to the public as an author. His first
piece was a sermon, published at the desire of
those who heard it, entitled, "Subjection to
the Higher Powers," preached November 5,




LIFE OF1 REV. JOHN UASON.     15
1740. In the year 1743 he published, without his name, a tract, entitled, "A Plain and
MLodest Plea for Christianity, or a Sober and
Rational Appeal to Infidels," &c., which was
well received and much read, and through the
medium of Dr. Walker, formerly tutor to an
academy at Mile End, it procured for the author, unsought for, the degree of A. M. from
Edinburgh. His " Treatise on Self-Knowledge"
was published in the year 1745, a work which
has already passed through many editions, and
which has been esteemed by able and impartial
judges as one of the most useful treatises on
practical piety that ever was written in the
English, or perhaps in any language. It has
been taken up as a book fit and proper to be distributed among the poor, who are unable to
procure books at their own expense, by several
societies, both among dissenters and persons
adhering to the established Church. It has not
been confined to the language in which it was
written, but has been translated and circulated
in several countries on the continent.
At Dorking Mr. Mason continued till July
the 6th, 1746, where he was held in high estimation both as a preacher and a friend. To
his hearers, he was able, at the close of seventeen years' ministry, to appeal for their testi



1 6      LiFEI OF0 REV. JOHN MIASON.
niony to the sincerity and earnestness of his
labours in the cause in which he appears to
have engaged from his heart.  "During the
whole course of my preaching among you,"
says he in his farewell discourse, "I have
avoided controversial subjects as much as possible; that is, as far as is consistent with ministerial fidelity. And those that I have handled were mostly such as were of the greatest
importance to common Christianity; which I
have always endeavoured to treat in the plainest manner I could. But my chief aim hath
been to affect your minds and my own with a
deeper sense of those great, uncontroverted
principles of Christianity which enter into the
very essence of religion, and without an habitual regard to which, our profession of it, and
that of every party, is vain. For I have often
thought, it is much more necessary to endeavour to mend the heart than' stuff the head.
And that Christians in general have more need
to have their spirits improved, than their understandings informed; and want more zeal rather
than more light; better tempers rather than
better notions: and that a bad heart with right
notions is much worse than a good heart with
wrong notions; for if the heart be wrong, it
matters little that the head is right."




LIFE OF  REV. JOHN MASON,       7?
Then, after recapitulating the principal clduties
incumbent upon them as Christians, and which
at all times he had sedulously recommended as
of prime importance, he concludes in the following words: —
6" God is my witness, and so are you, that I
never affected to warp your minds to party
notions, to amuse you with empty speculations, to move you with vehement address, to
please you with the jingling ornaments of
style, or win you with the studied arts of
speech; my aim hath been to make my way
to your hearts, by opening and inculcating to
you, in the plainest and most unartful manner,
those great and important truths which have
first affected my own. What hath been my
success, God knows: and what my fidelity.
May he graciously forgive the defects both of
preacher and hearers! before whom we must
both another day appear to answer for them.
And O! may we all find mercy of him in that day!
" And now, my dear Christian friends and
brethren, farewell. I now take my final leave
of you for ever as your minister and pastor.
For all the instances of your affection and
friendship, I heartily thank you. Wherein any
of you have been defective in your regard to
me as vour minister, I heartily forgive you;
2




18       LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.
wherein I have been defective, in my duty to
you as my people, I heartily ask forgiveness.
And may the God of all mercy forgive, accept,
direct, and bless us all; and preserve us to
that happy world, where we shall meet to part
no more!"
At this period Mir. Mason, upon the invitation
of a large and respectable congregation of dissenters, removed to Cheshunt in Hertfordshire,
where he spent the remainder of his days, as
a very useful preacher.  Nor was he less
known as an author. During his residence at
Cheshunt his publications were numerous and
respectable, of the principal of which we shall
here give an account.
His largest work is entitled the " Lord's Day
Evening Entertainment," in four volumes, containing fifty-two sermons, which he offered to
the public as a " complete set of practical discourses for the use of families, recommending
and urging the great and substantial points of
Christianity in a plain and striking manner,
and free from all distinguishing peculiarities in
style and sentiments."  The second edition of
this work, which has been popular in families,
was published in the year 1754.
In the year 1758 he published, in one
volume, fifteen discourses, devotional and prac



LUS 01F RE V. JOHN 1IA,80sN.    19
tical, together with all historical dissertation on
the analogy between the behaviour of God's
people. toward him, in the several periods of
the Jewish and Christian church, and his correspondent dispensations toward them in those
respective periods. The design of this dissertation is to show, that however ready we may
be to censure and condemn the temper and behaviour of the Jews, yet that the conduct of
Christians has been very much the same, ill
the several periods of the Christian church:
and to point out some remarkable instances
of analogy between the dealings of Providence toward them, and his dispensations toward us; in consequence of that similarity between their conduct and ours. Our author has
in this essay shown an extensive and accurate
knowledge of ancient and modern history, and
a considerable degree of critical acumen in
pointing out the various analogies which subsist between the different histories; he has
rendered the whole highly interesting by the
insertion of a great variety of historical and
biographical facts, especially those which relate
to the first reformers.
In the year 1761 Mr. Mason published his
"Christian Morals," in two volumes.  The object of the author in these excellent discourses




20       LIFE OF RETV. JOHNr i, ASON.
was, he tells us, to moderate the zeal of Christians for their several party distinctions, and to
recall their attention to the acknowledged importance of those indisputed principles, without the practical influence of which no man
can be a Christian, and all the good sense, and
all the orthodoxy in the world will avail him
nothing.  "0," says he, " did deep humility,
divine love, fervent faith, and heartfelt charity, but once shed their heavenly influence in
our souls; how soon should we learn to despise that light chaff' of mystic or minute subtleties in divinity which some are so fond of, and
to bend all our cares and efforts, in dependance on divine grace, to cultivate in ourselves
those holy dispositions, which constitute all
our happiness, both in this world and for ever.
" To contribute somewhat to this great end,
I have once more cast in my mite, as what I
judged to be of the greatest service I am capable of doing the cause and gospel of Christ,
while I live."
To the second volume of these discourses is
added a sermon on the death of George II. —
"A  king," says our author, "whose memory
will be ever dear to all the friends of truth,
moderation, and the Protestant religion." This
and some other discourses on political occa



LIFE OF REV. JOHN 1tMASON'.    21
sions exhibit in the writer a true patriot, and
friend to the British constitution as settled at
the revolution.  Of the tories of that day, and
those who would have brought in the detested
race of the Stewarts, he says, " They who were
most clamorous for non-resistance under the
worst government, were always the most forward to oppose the best."
Next to the " Treatise on Self-Knowledge,"
our author's most popular work is entitled,
"The Student and Pastor, or directions how
to attain to eminence and usefulness in those
respective characters." These directions contain useful and salutary advice as to the
management of time; the best mode of reading
and studying; of improving by conversation
and reflection; of composing sermons, and of
administering in all the public services of religion: the last chapter of the work respects
the difficulties which a minister may expect to
meet with in the execution of his office, and
his proper support and encouragement under
them.
About the year 1749, or'50, Mr. Mason
published "An Essay on Elocution, intended
chiefly for the assistance of those who instruct
others in the art of reading, and of those who
are called to speak in public," which was re



2'2      LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.
ceived with great approbation, and in the course
of a few years went through three impressions,
and may be considered as the foundation of
many of our public popular essays on the same
subject. It was originally published without
the name of the author, and met, in that state,
with considerable encouragement and patronage at one of our public universities; but when
Mr. Mason claimed it as his own, by prefixing
his name to the second edition, that learned
body is said to have scouted it from their walls
as the work of a dissenter.
On similar subjects we have "Essays on
Poetical and Prosaic Numbers and Elocution;"
and "An Essay on the Power and Harmony
of Prosaic Numbers." These tracts were well
received by the public: of the former the author
says, " I am sensible that my attempts to elucidate the power of numbers, both in poetry
and prose, are far from going to the bottom of
that curious and delightful subject, but if they
are not deemed quite superficial, it is enough:
they were never designed for profound and
elaborate disquisitions. In short, they pretend
to no more than what their titles express,
essays to illustrate the first principles of that
science which greatly engaged the attention
of the ancient orators, but which has unac



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.      23
countably fallen into so much neglect by the
moderns."
In the year 1761 Mr. Mason collected these
several essays, and published them together in
a small octavo volume. This, we apprehend,
is the last edition of them; but they are now,
and have been for many years, exceedingly
scarce, and rarely to be met with in catalogues.
Notwithstanding the various and important
engagements of Mr. Mason as an author and
pastor of a large congregation, he found time
for the education of several young gentlemen
for the ministry; among these were the Rev.
Mr. Stanshall, late of Chertsea, to whom, in
the year 1753, he addressed "A Letter to a
Friend upon his Entrance on the Ministerial
Office;" which contains directions to a minister
with regard to his personal conduct, his private
studies, and his public ministrations; and the
Rev. John Somersett, who was some years
settled as pastor to a congregation at Chipping
Ongar, in Essex, and who died in the year 1780.
The course of polemical lectures which Mr.
Mason read to his pupils were printed in the
Protestant Magazine for the years 1794, 1795,
and 1796.
After a life devoted to the attainment and
diffusion of useful knowledge, Mr. Mason died




24      LI'FE: (iF It EV'. JOHN-N MASON-,
February 10th, 1763, in the fifty-eighth year of
his age. As a Christian minister, his time had
been very equally divided between the congregations at Dorking and Cheshunt, a circumstance which lhe particularly noticed to a friend
and relation while he was on his dying pillow,
and which he seems to have anticipated in the
preface to his farewell sermon preached at
Dorking.  6" Great," says he, "is my esteem,
and great my affection for you; and therefore
great my concern at leaving you. There is but
one scene more moving that I expect to go
through, and that is, leaving the-world. And
then all the varying scenes of providence which
are apt to fill our minds with grief and heaviness will be for ever at an end."
His last illness was occasioned by a cold
caught in visiting one of his congregation, who
lived at the distance of about two miles from
Cheshunt. Before he could return to his own
house, he, and a friend that accompanied him,
were surrounded in a fog and mist. Mr. Mason complained of a general chilliness, and
never after that day went out of his house. He
left behind him a widow, the daughter of the
Rev. James Waters, of Uxbridge, but no child
to exhibit a father's virtues, or emulate his example.




LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.          25
He was buried in the church-yard of Cheshunt, where there is the following inscription
to his memory:Here rests all that was mortal
of the late Rev., learned, and pious
JOHN MASON, A. M.,
who was Minister to the
congregation of
Protestant Dissenters in this parish 17 years.
He ceased from his labours,
and was called to receive his reward,
Feb. 10, 1763, aged 58 years.
",Be followers of them who through faith and
patience inherit the promises."
The character and general habits of Mr.
Mason, as given by a surviving friend, together
with what is said of him in a sermon preached
by the Rev. John Hodge, on occasion of his
death, will properly conclude the memoirs of a
man respecting whom little is now known to
the public.
As to his general habits and mode of life,
he was as regular and uniform as any man I
ever knew; he was not an early riser in the
morning, being seldom up till about eight
o'clock. After prayers, and reading a portion
of the Scriptures, he breakfasted, then smoked
his pipe, reading at the same time the newspaper, or some modern publication.  He then




26      LIFE OF REV. JOHN MIASON.
retired to his study, where he spent the whole
of the morning, except about an hour before
dinner, which he usually devoted to walking or
riding. After dinner he enjoyed his pipe and
friend in a cheerful and easy manner: and
either in his own family, with a select party
of friends, or abroad in the society of some of
his congregation, with whom he was in high
estimation, he spent the remainder of the day.
He was free, easy, communicative, and pleasant in conversation, and much of the gentleman appeared in all his behaviour. t-is acquaintance was much sought after, and he himself took great delight in society. He was one
of the association of ministers for Essex and
Hlertfordshire, and was an ornament to it,
though, an account of the liberality of his religious sentiments, one or two withdrew.  His
religious opinions were of the moderate kind,
he was an enemy to controversy, and a friend
to peace. Though abused by some, for want
of knowing him better, and destitute themselves
of the Christian temper and charity, he never
returned railing, but submitted to the unjust
contumely from a consciousness of the integrity
of his heart. His sermons were correct, clear,
nervous, and always illustrative of the text and
doctrine he had chosen to explain; they were




LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.       27
ever adapted to promote the purposes of piety
and charity.  "His religion," says Mr. Hodge,
"appears to me to have been thoroughly catholic, and therein truly Christian.  While
he himself, from principle, adhered to the cause
of Protestant non-conformity, amidst all its
present discouragements, as apprehending it to
have the nearest connection with the cause of
truth, and liberty, and serious godliness, still he
kept himself at the greatest distance from every
thing of a narrow party spirit, by confining
Christianity to his own particular communion;
on the contrary, he was free to converse with
others as with Christian brethren, ready to
discern and acknowledge real merit, and esteem true learning and piety wherever he met
with it.
" His removal from us (so it pleased unerring
Wisdom to appoint) was after no long previous
confinement, but of few days at most; during
which, and under all the pains with which he
had then to struggle, his mind appeared remarkably serene and composed: not a single
murmuring, hardly a complaining word, was
ever heard from him. As, through the goodness
of an indulgent Providence, he retained the use
of his reasoning powers to the last, so he was




28      LIFE OF REV. JOHN MASON.
found to the last calm and resigned; his end
truly was peace.
" Providence hath taken him  away in the
midst of his days and usefulness; when, considering only his age and the apparent vigour
of his constitution, his continued life, and further
usefulness in the church of God, might have
been with reason hoped for through many future
years. But the supreme Lord of life and death
hath done his pleasure; and it is your duty,
Christians, to submit and adore."
In the pulpit he was grave and solemn. His
voice was clear, his delivery deliberate, distinct, and void of all affectation. He used little
or no action; but he was esteemed a pleasing
preacher, because his manner was easy and
natural. His sentences were concise, and he
never studied length, or the art of protracting
his discourses, so as to tire the people: he had
rather, as he was accustomed to say, and according to his directions in the " Student and
Pastor," "leave them longing than loathing."




PREFACE.
THE subject of the ensuing Treatise is of
great importance; and yet I do not remember
to have seen it cultivated with that exactness,
perspicuity, and force, with which many other
moral and theological themes have been managed. And, indeed, it is but rarely that we find
it particularly and fully recommended to us, in
a set and regular discourse, either from  the
pulpit or the press. This consideration, together
with a full persuasion of its great and extensive
usefulness, hath put me upon an endeavour, in
this manner, to render it more familiar to the
minds of Christians.
Mr. Baxter, indeed, has a treatise professedly upon this subject, entitled, The.Mischief of
Self-Ignorance, and the Benefit of Self-Acquaintance; and I freely acknowledge some helps I
received from him: but he hath handled it
(according to his manner) in so lax and diffuse
a way, introducing so many things into it that
are foreign from it, omitting others that properly
belong to it, and skimming over some with a too
superficial notice, that I own I found myself




0 VJ            lPREFACE.
much disappointed in what I expected from
him, and was convinced that there wanted
something more correct, nervous, and methodical, to be written on this subject.
I am far from having the vanity to think, that
this, which I now offer to the public, is entirely
free from those faults which I have remarked
in that pious and excellent author; and I am
sensible, that, if I do not fall under a much
heavier censure myself, it must be owing to the
great candour of my reader, which he will be
convinced I have some title to, if he but duly
consider the nature and extent of the subject.
For it is almost impossible to let the thoughts
run freely upon so copious and comprehensive
a theine, in order to do justice to it, without taking
too large a scope in some particulars that have
a near affinity to it, as I fear I have done, (part i,
chap. 14,) concerning the knowledge, guard,
and government of the thoughts.
But there is a great difference between a
short, occasional, and useful digression, and a
wide rambling from the subject, by following
the impulse of a luxuriant fancy. A judicious
taste can hardly excuse the latter, though it
may be content the author should gather a few
flowers out of the common road, provided he
soon returns into it again.




PREFACE.                 31
Which brings to miy mind another thing,
which, I am sure, I have great reason to crave
the reader's patience and pardon for, (the best
end I know of prefaces,) and that is, the free
use I have made of some of the ancient heathen
writers in my marginal quotations,* which, I
own, looks like an ostentation of reading,
which I always abhorred. But it was conversing with those authors that first turned my
thoughts to this subject.  And the good sense
I met with in most of their aphorisms and sentiments, gave me an esteem  for them; which
made it difficult for me to resist the temptation
of transcribing several of them, which I thought
pertinent to the matter in hand.  But, after all,
I am ashamed to see what an old-fashioned
figure they make in the margin. However, if
the reader thinks they will too much interrupt
the course of the subject, he may entirely omit
them: though, by that means, he will perhaps
lose the benefit of some of the finest sentiments
in the book.
I remember a modern writer I have very
lately read is grievously offended with Mr.
Addison for so much as mentioning the name
* In many editions of this valuable work the "quotations"
here referred to are omitted-in this, however, they are inserted.-Am. Editor.




32              PREFACE.
of Plato, and presuming, in one of his Specta.
tors, to deliver his notions of humour in a kind
of allegory, after the manner of that Greek
author; which he calls a "formal method of
trifling, introduced under a deep ostentation of
learning, which deserves the severest rebuke;"
and, perhaps, a more severe one was never
given upon so small a provocation. From gentlemen of so refined and very nice a taste, I
can expect no mercy.  But the public is to
judge whether this be not as culpable and
nauseous an affectation as the contrary one,
which prevailed so much in the last century.
One great view I had in mine eye when I
put these thoughts together, was the benefit of
youth, and especially those of them that are
students and candidates for the sacred ministry;
for which they will find no science more immediately necessary (next to a good acquaintance with the word of God) than that which is
recommended to them in the following Treatise;
to which every branch of human literature is
subordinate, and ought to be subservient. For,
certain it is, the great end of philosophy, both
natural and moral, is to know ourselves, and to
know  God. "The highest learning is to be
wise, and the greatest wisdom is to be good;"
as Marcus Antoninus somewhere observes.




PRE'ACE,               3:
it has often occurred to my mind, inr digesting my thoughts upon this subject, what a pity.
it is that this most useful science should be so
generally neglected in the modern methods of
education; and thatpreceptors and tutors, both
in public and private seminaries of learning,
should: forget, that the forming the manners
is more necessary to a finished education than
furnishing  the  minds of youth.  Socrates
thought so, who made all his philosophy subservient to morality; and took more pains to
rectify the tempers, than replenish the understanding, of his pupils; and looked upon all
knowledge as useless speculation that was not
brought to this end, to make the person a
wiser or a better man. And without doubt, if, in
the academy, the youth has once happily learned
the great art of managing his temper, governing
his passions, and guarding his foibles, he will
find a more solid advantage from it in after life,
than he could expect from the best acquaintance
with all the systems of ancient and modern
philosophy.
It was a very just and sensible answer
which Agesilaus, the Spartan king, returned to
one who asked him, what that was in which
youth ought principally to be instructed?  He
replied, "That which they will have most need




34               PR EFA C IE
to practise when they are men." Were this
single rule but carefully attended to in the
method of education, it might probably be conducted in a manner much more to the advantage of our youth than it ordinarily is. For, as
Dr. Fuller observes, "that pains we take in
books or arts which treat of things remote
from the use of life, is but a busy idleness."
And what is there in life which youth will
have more frequent occasion to practise than
this?  What is there which they afterward
more regret the want of? What is there in
which they want a greater help and assistance
than the right government of their passions and
prejudices? And what more proper season to
receive those assistances, and to lay a foundation for this difficult, but very important science,
than the early part of youth?
It may be said, "It is properly the office
and care of parents to watch over and correct
the tempers of their children in the first years
of their infancy, when it may easily be done;"
but if it be not effectual then, (as it very seldom
is,) there is the more necessity for it afterward.
But the truth is, it is the proper office and care
of all who have the charge of youth, and ought
to be looked upon as the most important and
necessary part of education




PREFACE                 35
It was the observation of a great divine and
reformer, that " he who acquires his learning
at the expense of his morals, is the worse for
his education." And we may add that he who
does not improve his temper, together with his
understanding, is not much the better for it;
for he ought to measure his progress in science
by the improvement of his morals; and remember, that he is no further a learned man, than he
is a wise and good man; and that he cannot be
a finished philosopher till he is a Christian.
But whence is it, that moral philosophy,
which was so carefully cultivated in the ancient
academy, should be forced in the modern to
give place to natural, that was originally designed to be subservient to it? which is to
exalt the handmaid into the place of the mistress; which appears not only a preposterous,
but a pernicious method of instruction: for, as
the mind takes a turn of future life, suitable to
the tincture it hath received in youth, it will
naturally conclude, that there is no necessity to
regard, or, at least, to lay any stress upon those
things which were never inculcated upon it
as things of importance then; and so will grow
up in a neglect or disesteem of those things
which are more necessary to make a person
a wise and truly understanding man, than all




36               PREFACE.
those rudiments of science he brought with him
from the school or the college.
It is really a melancholy thing to see a
young gentleman of shining parts and a sweet
disposition, who has gone through the common
course of academical studies, come out into the
world under an absolute government of his passions and prejudices; which have increased
with his learning, and which, when he comes
to be better acquainted with human life, and
human nature, he is soon sensible and ashamed
of; but perhaps is never able to conquer as long
as he lives, for want of that assistance which
he ought to have received in his education; for
a wrong education is one of those three things
to which it is owing (as an ancient Christian
philosopher justly observes) that so few have
the right government of their passions.
I would not be thought to disparage any part
of human literature; but should be glad to see
this most useful branch of science, the knowledge of the heart, the detecting and correcting
hurtful prejudices, and the right government of
the temper and passions, in more general
esteem, as necessary at once to form the gentleman, the scholar, and the Christian.
And if there be any thing in the following
sheets which imay be helpful to stuldents, who




PREFACE.               37
have a regard to the right government of their
minds, while they are furnishing them with
useful knowledge, I would particularly recommend them to their perusal.
I have nothing further to add, but to desire
the reader's excuse for the freedom with which
I have delivered my sentiments in this matter,
and for detaining him so long from the subject
of the ensuing Treatise, which I now leave to
his candid and serious thoughts, and the blessing of Almighty God to makle it useful to him.








A TREATISE
ON
SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
The nature and importance of the subject.
A DESIRE of knowledge is natural to all
human minds; and nothing discovers the true
quality and disposition of the mind more, than
the particular kind of knowledge it is most
fond of.
Thus we see that low and little minds are
most delighted with the knowledge of trifles, as
in children; an indolent mind, with that which
serves only for amusement, or the entertainment
of the fancy; a curious mind is best pleased
with facts; a judicious, penetrating mind, with
demonstration and mathematical science; a
worldly mind esteems no knowledge like that
of the world: but a wise and pious man, before
all other kinds of knowledge, prefers that of
God and his own soul.




40            -SE ls llIFK-I4NOWIT, EDG!E.
But some kind of knowledge or other the
mind is continually craving after, and after a
further proficiency inll: and, by considering
what kind of knowledge it most of all desires,
its prevailing turn aud temper may easily be
known.
This desire of knowledge, like other affections planted in our natures, will be very apt to
lead us wrong, if it be not well regulated.
When it is directed to improper objects, or
pursued in an improper manner, it degenerates
into a vain and criminal curiosity.  A fatal instance of this in our first parents we have upon
sacred record, the unhappy effects of which are
but too visible in all.
Self-knowledge is the subject of the ensuing
Treatise; a subject which, the more I think of,
the more important and extensive it appears:
so important, that every branch of it seems
absolutely necessary to the right government of
the life and temper; and so extensive, -that
the nearer view we take of the several branches
of it, the more are still opening to the view, as
necessarily connected with it as the other.
Like what we find in microscopical observations on natural objects, the better the glasses,
and the nearer the scrutiny, the more wonders
we explore; and the more surprising dicoveries




SELF-KNOWLE DG E.          41
we make of certain properties, parts, or affections belonging to them, which were never
before thought of. In order to a true selfknowledge, the human mind, with its various
powers and operations, must be narrowly
inspected; all its secret springs and motives
ascertained; otherwise our self-acquaintance
will be but partial and defective; and the heart
after all will deceive us.  So that in treating
of this subject there is no small danger, either
of doing injury to it, by a slight and superficial
examination on the one hand, or of running
into a research too minute and philosophical
for common use on the other. These two extremes I shall keep in my eye, and endeavour
to steer a middle course between them.
" Know thyself" is one of the most useful and
comprehensive precepts in the lwhole moral
system. And it is well known in how great a
veneration this maxim was held by the ancients;
and how highly the duty of self-examination
was esteemed as necessary to it.
Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece,
is said to have been the first author of it. He
used to say, that for a man to know himself is
the hardest thing in the world. It was then
adopted by Chilo, another of the seven sages,
and is one of the three precepts which Pliny




42,SELF-KNOWE DGE.
affirms to have been consecrated at Delphos in
golden letters. It was afterward greatly admired, and frequently adopted by others, till at
length it acquired the authority of a divine
oracle; and was supposed to have been given
originally by Apollo himself. Of which general
opinion Cicero gives us this reason; "because
it hath such a weight of sense and wisdom in
it as appears too great to be attributed to any
man." And this opinion, of its coming originally from Apollo himself, perhaps was the
reason that it was written in golden capitals
over the door of his temple at Delphos.
And why this excellent precept should not
be held in as high esteem in the Christian
world as it was in the heathen, is hard to conceive. Human nature is the same now as it
was then: the heart as deceitful; and the
necessity of watching, knowing, and keeping it
the same. Nor are we less assured that this
precept is divine: nay, we have a much
greater assurance of this than they had; they
supposed it came down from heaven, we know
it did; what they conjectured, we are sure of.
For this sacred oracle is dictated to us in a
manifold light, and explained to us in various
views, by the Holy Spirit, in that revelation
which God hath been pleased to give us as our




SELF-KNO W]_LEDGE.               43
guide to duty and happiness; by which, as in
a glass, we may survey ourselves, and know
what manner of persons we are. James i, 23.
This discovers to ourselves what we are;
pierces into the inmost recesses of the mind;
strips off every disguise; lays open the inward
part; makes a strict scrutiny into the very soul
and spirit; and critically judges of the thoughts
and intents of the heart. It shows with what
exactness and care we are to search and try
our spirits, examine ourselves, and watch
our ways, and keep our hearts, in order to
acquire this important self-science; which it
often calls us to do. "Examine yourselves;
prove your own selves; know  you not yourselves?* Let a man examine himself." 1 Cor.
xi, 28.   Our Saviour upbraids his disciples
* Though the Greek word, 2 Cor. xiii, 5, signifies to approve as well as to prove, yet that our translators have hit
upon the true sense of the word here, in rendering it prove
yourselves, is apparent, not only from the word immediately
preceding, which is of the same import, but because self-probation is always necessary to a right self-approbation.
" Every Christian ought to try himself, and may know himself if he be faithful in examining. The frequent exhortations
of Scripture hereunto imply both these, viz., that the knowledge of ourselves is attainable, and that we should endeavour
after it. Why should the apostle put them upon examining
and proving themselves, unless it was possible to know themselves upon such trying and proving?"-Bennet's Christian
Oratory,  p. 568




44           SELF.'KNOWIEDGE.
with their self-ignorance, in not knowing
"what manner of spirits they were of," Luke
ix, 55. And saith the apostle, "If a man
(through self-ignorance) thinketh himself to be
something when he is nothing, he deceiveth
himself.  But let every man prove his work,
and then shall he have rejoicing in himself,
and not in another." Gal. vi, 3, 4. Here we
are commanded, instead of judging others, to
judge ourselves; and to avoid the inexcusable
rashness of condemning others for the very
crimes we ourselves are guilty of, which a selfignorant man is very apt to do; nay, to be
more offended at a small blemish in another's
character, than at a greater in his own; upon
which folly, self-ignorance, and hypocrisy, our
Saviour with just severity animadverts. Matt.
vii, 3-5.
And what stress was laid upon this under the
Old Testament dispensation appears sufficiently
from those expressions: " Keep thy heart with
all diligence," Prov. iv, 23.  "Commune'with
your own heart," Psalm iv, 4. "Search me, 0
God, and know my heart; try me, and know
my thoughts," Psalm cxxxix,23. "Examine me,
0 Lord, and prove me; try my reins and my
heart," Psalm xxvi, 2.  "Let us search and try
our ways," Lam. iii, 4. " Recollect, recollect




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                 45
yourselves, O nation not desired,"* Zeph. ii, 1.
And all this is necessary to that self-acquaintance which is the only proper basis of solid
peace.t
Were mankind but more generally convinced
of the importance and necessity of this selfknowledge, and possessed with a due esteem
for it; did they but know the true way to attain
it; and under a proper sense of its excellence,
and the fatal effects of self-ignorance, did they
but Inake it their business and study every day
to cultivate it, how soon should we find a happy
alteration in the manners and tempers of men!
But the evil is, meni will not think; will not
employ their thoughts, in good earnest, about
the things which most of all deserve and demand them. By which unaccountable indolence, and aversion to self-reflection, they
are led, blindfold and insensibly, into the most
The Hebrew verb properly signifies to glean, or to gather
together scattered sticks or straws; as appears from all the
places where the word is used in the Old Testament. Exod.
v, 7, 12; Num. xv, 32; 1 Kings xvii, 10. Hence by an
easy metaphor it signifies to recollect, or to gather the scattered thoughts together; and ought in this place to be so rendered.
t Clemens Alexandrinus says, that Moses by that phrase,
so common in his writings, Take heed to thyself, (Exod. x,
28; xxxiv, 12; Deut. iv, 9,) means the same thing as the
ancients (lid by their " Know th~yself."




46             SELF-KNO WLEDGE.
dangerous path of infidelity and wickedness
as the Jews were heretofore; of whose amazing ingratitude and apostasy God himself
assigns this single cause: "my people do not
consider," Isa. i, 3.*
Self-knowledge is that acquaintance  with
ourselves which shows us what we are, and do;
and ought to be, and do, in order to our living
comfortably and usefully here, and happily
hereafter. The means of it is self-examination; the end of it self-government, and' selfenjoyment.   It principally  consists  in  the
knowledge of our souls; which is attained by
particular attention to their various powers,
capacities, passions, inclinations, operations,
state, happiness, and temper. For a man's soul
is properly himself. Matt. xvi, 26, compared
with Luke ix, 25. The body is but the house,
the soul is the tenant that inhabits it; the body
is the instrument, the soul the artist that directs it.t
* " There is nothing men are more deficient in than knowing their own characters. I know not how this science comes
to be so much neglected. We spend a great deal of time in
learning useless things, but take no pains in the study of ourselves; and in opening the folds and doubles of the heart."
-Refiections on Ridicule, p. 61.
t " When you talk of a man, I would not have you tack flesh
and blood to the notion, nor those limbs which are made oult




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                47
This science, which is to be the subject of
the ensuing Treatise, hath these three peculiar
properties in it, which distinguish it from, and
render it preferable to, all others: (1.) " It is
equally attainable by all." It requires no strength
of memory, no force of genius, no depth of
penetration, as many other sciences do, to come
at a tolerable acquaintance with them; which
therefore renders them inaccessible by the
greatest part of mankind. Nor is it placed out
of their reach, through a want of opportunity,
and proper assistance and direction how to acquire it, as many other parts of learning are.
Every one of a common capacity hath the opportunity and ability to acquire it, if he will but
recollect his rambling thoughts, turn them  in
upon himself, watch the motions of his heart,
and compare them with. his rule. (2.) " It is
of equal importance to all, and of the highest
importance to every one."* Other sciences are
suited to the various conditions of life.  Some
more necessary to some, others to others. But
of it; these are but tools for the soul to work with; and no
more a part of a man, than an axe or a plain is a piece of a
carpenter. It is true, nature hath glued them together, and
they grow as it were to the soul, and there is all the difference. "-Collier.
* "'Tis virtue only makes our bliss below,
And all our knowledge is OURSELVES TO KNOW. "-Pope.




~48          SELF-KNOW'LEDGE.
this equally concerns every one that hath an
immortal soul, whose final happiness he desires
and seeks. (3.) " Other knowledge is very apt
to make a man vain; this always keeps him
humble."  Nay, it is always for want of this
knowledge that men are vain of that they have.
"Knowledge puffeth up," 1 Cor. viii, 1. A
small degree of knowledge often hath this effect
on weak minds. And the reason why greater
attainments in it have not so generally the same
effect, is, because they open and enlarge the
views of the mind so far, as to let into it, at
the same time, a good degree of self-knowledge: for the more true knowledge a man hath,
the more sensible he is of the want of it, which
keeps him humble.
And now, reader, whoever thou art, whatever
be thy character, station, or distinction in life,
if thou art afraid to look into thine heart, and
hast no inclination to self-acquaintance, read no
further, lay aside this book; for thou wilt find
nothing here that will flatter thy self-esteem,
but, perhaps, something that may abate it. But,
if thou art desirous to cultivate this important'kind of knowledge, and to live no longer a
stranger to thyself, proceed; and keep thy eye
open to thine own image, with whatever unexpected deformity it may present itself to thee;




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.              49
and patiently attend, while, by divine assistance, I endeavour to lay open thine own heart
to thee, and lead thee to the true knowledge of
thyself, in the following chapters.
CHAPTER II.
The several branches of self-knowledge. We must know
what sort of creatures we are, and what we shall be.
THAT we may have a more distinct and orderly view of this subject, I shall here consider
the several branches of self-knowledge; or
some of the chief particulars wherein it consists: whereby perhaps it will appear to be
a more copious and comprehensive science
than we imagine. And,
(1.) To know ourselves, is "to know  and
seriously consider what sort of creatures we
are, and what we shall be,"
1. "What we are."
Man is a complex being, irptlepslq vrroauagtg,
a tripartite person, or a compound creature, made
up of three distinct parts, viz., the body, which
is the earthy or mortal part of him; the soul,
which is the animal or sensitive part; and the
4




5 0           S E;L, F —  N 0 W-, 1E D C E.
spirit, or ~mind, which is the rationa.l and immortal part.  Each of these three parts has
its respective office assigned it; and a man
then acts becoming himself, when he keeps
then duly employed in their proper functions,
and preserves their natural subordination. But
it is not enough to know this merely as a point
of speculation; we must pursue and revolve the
thought, and urge the consideration to all the
purposes of a practical self-knowledge.
We are not all body, nor mere animal creatures.
We have a more noble nature than the inanimate
or brutal part of the creation.  We can not
only move and act freely, but we observe in
ourselves a capacity of reflection, study, and
forecast; and rvarious mental operations, of
which irrational animals discover no symptoms.
Our souls,therefore, must be of a more excellent
nature than theirs; and from the power of
thought with which they are endowed, they are
proved to be immaterial substances, and consequently, in their own nature, capable of immortality. And that they are actually immortal,
or will never die, the sacred Scriptures do
abundantly testify. Let us then hereupon seriously recollect ourselves in the following soliloquy.
"0 mly soull, look b-ack hiut a fewr yen.rs, annd




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.            51
thou wast nothing! And how didst thou spring
out of that nothing? Thou couldst not make
thyself. That is quite impossible.  Most certain it is, that the same almighty, self-existent,
and eternal Power, which made the world,
made thee also out of nothing, called thee into
being when thou wast not, gave thee those reasoning and reflecting faculties which thou art
now employing in searching out the end and
happiness of thy nature. It was he, 0 my soul,
that made thee intelligent and immortal.  It
was he that placed thee in this body, as in a
prison; where thy capacities are cramped, thy
desires debased, and thy liberty lost. It was
he that sent thee into this world, which, by all
circumstances, appears to be a state of short
discipline and trial.  And wherefore did he
place thee here, when he might have made
thee a more free, unconfined, and happy spirit?
But check that thought; it looks like too presumptuous a curiosity.  A more needful and
important inquiry is, What did he place thee
here for? And what doth he expect from thee,
while thou art here? What part hath he allotted me to act on the stage of human life; where
he, angels, and men, are spectators of my behaviour? The part he hath given me to act here
is, doubtless, a very important one; beca.use it




852            SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
is for eternity.*  And what is it but to live up
to the dignity of my rational and intellectual
nature, and as becomes a creature born for immortality?
"And tell me, 0 my soul, (for, as I am now
about to cultivate a better acquaintance with
thee, to whom I have been too long a stranger,
I must try thee, and put many a close question
to thee,) tell me, I say, while thou confinest
thy desires to sensual gratifications, wherein
dost thou differ from the beasts that perish?
Captivated by bodily appetites, dost thou not put
thyself upon a level with the lower class of beings, which were made to serve thee; offer an
indignity to thyself, and despise the work of
thy Maker's hands? 0 remember thy heavenly
extract; remember thou art a spirit! Check,
then, the solicitations of the flesh; and dare to
do nothing that may diminish thy native excellence, dishonour thy high original, or degrade
thy noble nature. But let me still urge it. Consider, (I say,) 0 my soul, that thou art an immortal spirit.  Thy body dies; but thou, thou
* It is said when Virgil was asked by'his friend, why he
studied so much accuracy in the plan of his poem, the propriety of his characters, and the purity of his diction, he replied,
"I am writing for eternity." What more weighty consideras
tion to justify and enforce the utmost vigilance and circumspection of life than this, "I am living for eternity."




SELF-KNOWL.EDGE.           53
must live for ever, and thy eternity must take
its tincture from the manner of thy behaviour,
and the habits thou contractest, during this
thy short copartnership with flesh and blood.
O! do nothing now but what thou mayest
with pleasure look back upon a million of ages
hence. For know, 0 my soul, that thy selfconsciousness and reflecting faculties will not
leave thee with thy body; but will follow thee
after death, and be the instrument of unspeakable pleasure or torment to thee in that separate state of existence."
(2.) In order to a full acquaintance with ourselves, we must endeavour to know not only
what we are, but what we shall be.
And O! what different creatures shall we
soon be from what we now are! Let us look
forward, then, and frequently glance our
thoughts toward death; though they cannot
penetrate the darkness of that passage, or reach
the state behind it. That lies veiled from the
eyes of our mind: and the great God hath not
thought fit to throw so much light upon it, as to
satisfy the anxious and inquisitive desires the
soul hath to know it. However, let us make
the best use we can of that little light which
Scripture and reason have let in upon this dark
and important subject.




D54t            S E SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
"Compose  thy thoughts, 0'liy  soul, and
imagine how  it will fare with thee when thou
goest, a naked, unembodied spirit, into a world,
an unknown world of spirits, with all thy selfconsciousness about thee, where no material
object shall strike thine eye, and where thy
dear partner and companion, the body, cannot
come nigh thee; but where, without it, thou
wilt be sensible of the most noble satisfactions, or the most exquisite pains. Embarked
in death, thy passage will be dark; and the
shore, on which it will land thee, altogether
strange and unknown.' It doth not yet appear:what we shall be.'"
*"'Thou must expire, my soul, ordain'd to range
Through unexperienced scenes, and myst'ries strange;
Dark the event, and dismal the exchange.
But, when compell'd to leave this house of clay,
And to an unknown somewhere wing thy way:'When time shall be eternity, and thou
Shalt be thou know'st not what, nor where, nor how,
Trembling and pale, what wilt thou see or do?
Amazing state! No wonder that we dread
The thoughts of death, or faces of the dead.
His black retinue sorely strikes our mind;
Sickness and pain before, and darkness all behind.
Some courteous ghost, the secret then reveal;
Teach us what you have felt, and we must feel.
You warn us of approaching death, and why
Will you not teach us what it is to die?
But having shot the gulf, you love to view




SELIF-KNOWLEDGE.                5
That revelation which God hath pleased to
snake of his will to mankind was designed
rather to fit us for the future happiness, and
direct our way to it, than open to us the particular glories of it, or distinctly show us what
it is. This it hath left still very much a mystery; to check our too curious inquiries into
the nature of it, and to bend our thoughts more
intently to that which more concerns us, viz.,
an habitual preparation for it. And what that is,
we cannot be ignorant, if we believe either our
Bible or our reason. For both these assure us,
that " that which makes us like to God, is the
only thing that can fit us for the enjoyment of
him."  Here, then, let us hold.  Let our great
concern be, to be "holy as he is holy."  And
then, and then only, are we sure to enjoy him,
"in whose light we shall see light."  And, be
the future state of existence what it will, we
shall some way be happy there, and much more
Succeeding spirits plunged along like you;
Nor lend a friendly hand to guide them through.
When dire disease shall cut or age untie
The knot of life, and suffer us to die:
When, after some delay, some trembling strife,
The soul stands quiv'ring on the ridge of life;
WVit.h fear and hope she throbs, then curious tries
Sone strange hereafter, and some hidden skies."
NORRIS.




56           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
happy than we can now conceive; though, iln
what particular manner we know not, because
God hath not revealed it.
CHAPTER III.
The several relations in which we stand to God, to Christ,
and our fellow-creatures.
II. " SELF-KNOWLEDGE requires us to be well
acquainted with the various relations in which
we stand to other beings, and the several duties
that result from those relations."  And,
(1.) "Our first and principal concern is to
consider the relation we stand in to Him who
gave us our being."
We are the creatures of his hand, and the
objects of his care.  His power upholds the
being his goodness gave us; his bounty accommodates us with the blessings of this life; and
his grace provides for us the happiness of a
better. Nor are we merely his creatures, but
his rational and intelligent creatures. It is the
dignity of our natures, that we are capable of
knowing and enjoying him that made us. And,
as the rational creatures of God, there are two
relations especially that we stand in to him;




SELF-KNO WLEDGE.           57
the frequent consideration of which is absolutely necessary to a right, self-knowledge.
For, as our Creator, he is our King and Father:
and, as his creatures, we are the subjects of his
kingdom, and the children of his family.
1. " We are the subjects of his kingdom."
And, as such, we are bound,
(1.) To yield a faithful obedience to the laws
of his kingdom. And the advantages by which
these come to be recommended to us above all
human laws, are many. They are calculated
for the private interest of every one, as well as
that of the public; and are designed to promote
our present, as well as our future happiness.
They are plainly and explicitly published;
easily understood; and in fair and legible characters writ in every man's heart, and the wisdom, reason, and necessity of them are readily
discerned. They are urged with the most
mighty motives that can possibly affect the
human heart. And, if any of them are difficult,
the most effectual grace is freely offered to encourage and assist our obedience; advantages
which no human laws have to enforce the observance of them. (2.) As his subjects, we
must readily pay the homage due to his sovereignty. And this is no less than the homage
of the heart; humbly acknowledging, that we




58           SELF'-KtNOW\ LEDGE.
hold every thing of him, and have every thing
from  him.  Earthly princes are forced to be
content with verbal acknowledgments, or mere
formal homage; for they can command nothing
but what is external: but God, who knows and
looks at the hearts of all his creatures, will
accept of nothing but what comes from thence.
IHe demands the adoration of our whole souls,
which is most justly due to him, who formed
them, and gave them the very capacities to
know and adore him.  (3.) As faithful subjects,
we must cheerfully pay him the tribute he requires of us. This is not like the tribute which
earthly kings exact; who as much depend upon
their subjects for the support of their power, as
their subjects do upon them for the protection
of their property. But. the tribute God requires
of us, is a tribute of praise and honour; which
he stands in no need of from us. For his power
is independent, and his glory immutable; and
he is infinitely able, of himself, to support the
dignity of his universal government. But it is
the most natural duty we owe him, as creatures.
For, to praise him, is only to show forth his
praise; to glorify him, to celebrate his glory;
and to honour him, is to render him and his
ways honourable in the eyes and esteem  of
others. And, as this is the most natural duty




SELI'-KNOWLEDGI.            59
that creatures owe to their Creator, so, it is a
tribute he requires of every one of them, in
proportion to their respective talents and abilities to pay it.  (4.) As dutiful subjects, we must
contentedly and quietly submit to the methods
and administrations of his government, however
dark, involved, or intricate. All governments
have their arcana imperii, or secrets of state,
which common subjects cannot penetrate., And
therefore, they cannot competently judge of the
wisdom or rectitude of certain public measures;
because they are ignorant either of the springs
of them, or the ends of them, or the expediency
of the means, arising from the particular situation of things in the present juncture. And how
much truer is this with relation to God's government of the world, whose wisdom is far above
our reach, and " whose ways are not as ours?"
Whatever, then, may be the present aspect and
appearance of things, as dutiful subjects, we
are bound to acquiesce; to ascribe wisdom and
"righteousness to our Maker," in confidence
that the King and " Judge of all the earth will
do right." Again, (5.) As good subjects of God's
kingdom, we are bound to pay a due regard and
reverence to his ministers: especially if they
discover an uncorrupted fidelity to his cause,
and a pure, unaffected zeal for his honour; if




60           SELF-KNOWLEDUE.
they do not seek their own interest more than
that of their divine Master.  The ministers of
earthly princes too often do this; and it would
be happy if all the ministers and ambassadors
of the heavenly King were entirely clear of the
imputation. It is no uncommon thing for the
honour of an earthly monarch to be wounded
through the sides of his ministers. The defamation and slander that are directly thrown at them,
are obliquely intended against him: and as such
they are taken. So, to attempt to make the ministers of the gospel, in general, the objects of derision, as some do, plainly shows a mind very
dissolute and disaffected to God, and religion
itself; and is to act a part very unbecoming the
dutiful subjects of his kingdom. (Lastly.) As
good subjects, we are to do all we can to promote the interest of his kingdom; by defending
the wisdom of his administrations, and endeavouring to reconcile others thereunto, under all
the darkness and difficulties that may appear in
them, in opposition to the profane censures of
the prosperous wicked, and the doubts and dismays of the afflicted righteous. This is to act
in character, as loyal subjects of the King of
heaven. And whoever forgets this part of his
character, or acts contrary to it, shows a great
degree of self-ignorance.




SELF-KNOWLEDGE,.            61
But, (2.) As the creatures of God, we are not
only the subjects of his kingdom, but the children of his family. And to this relation, and
the obligations of it, must we carefully attend,
if we would attain the true knowledge of ourselves. We are his children by creation; in
which respect he is truly our Father. Isa. lxiv,
8: " But now, O Lord, thou art our Father: we
are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all
are the work of thy hand."  And in a more
special sense we are his children by adoption.
Gal. iii, 26: "For ye are all the children of
God by faith in Christ Jesus." And, therefore,
(1.) We are under the highest obligations to
love him as our Father. The love of children
to parents is founded on gratitude, for benefits
received, which can never be requited; and
ought in reason to be proportioned to those benefits; especially if they flow from a conscientiousness of duty in the parent. And what duty
more natural than to love our benefactors?
What love and gratitude then is due to Him
from whom we have received the greatest benefit, even that of our being; and every thing
that contributes to the comfort of it?  (2.) As
his children, we must honour him; that is,
must speak honourably of him, and for him;
and carefully avoid every thing that may tend




62           SELF-KNOM'LEDG E..
to dishonour his holy name and ways. Mal. i,
6: "A son honoureth his father: if then I be a
father, where is mine honour?"  (3.) As our
Father, we are to apply to him for what we
want. Whither should children go but to their
father for protection, help, and relief, in every
danger, difficulty, and distress? And, (4.) We
must trust his power, and wisdom, and paternal
goodness. to provide for us, take care of us, and
do for us that which is best. And what that is
he knows best. To be anxiously fearful what
will become of us, and discontented and perplexed under the apprehension of future evils,
while we are in the hands, and under the care
of our Father who is in heaven, is not to act
like children. Earthly parents cannot avert from
their children all the calamities they fear, because their wisdom and power are limited; but
our all-wise and almighty Father in heaven can.
They may possibly want love and tenderness
for their offspring; but our heavenly Father
cannot for his. Isa. xlix, 15. (5.) As children,
we must quietly acquiesce in his disposals, and
not expect to see into the wisdom of all his
will.  It would be indecent and undutiful in a
child to dispute his parents' authority, or question their wisdom, or neglect their orders, every
time he could not discern the reason and design




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.            6 3
of them. Much more unreasonable and unbecoming is such behaiviour toward God,' who
giveth not account of any of his matters; whose
judgments are unsearchable, and whose ways
are past finding out." Job xxxiii, 13; Rom. xi, 33.
(Lastly.) As children, we must patiently submit
to his discipline and correction. Earthly parents
may sometimes punish their children through
passion or caprice; but our heavenly Father
always corrects his for their profit, (Heb. xii,
10,) and only if need be, (1 Peter i, 6,) and
never so much as their iniquities deserve. Ezra
ix, 13. Under his fatherly rebukes let us ever
be humble and submissive.  Such now is the
true filial disposition. Such a temper and such
a behaviour should we.show toward God, if we
would act in character as his children.
These then are the two special relations,
which, as creatures, we stand in to God. And
not to act toward him in the manner beforementioned, is to show that we are ignorant of,
or have not yet duly considered, our obligations
to him as his subjects and his children; or
that we are as yet ignorant both of God and
ourselves.  Thus we see how directly the
knowledge of ourselves leads us to the knowledge of God. So true is the observation of a
late pious and very worthy divine, that " he who




64-          SSEILF-KNOWLEDGE.
is a stranger to himself, is a stranger to God,
and to every thing that may denominate him
wise and happy."
But, (2.) In order to know ourselves there
is another important relation we should often
think of, and that is, that in which we stand to
Jesus Christ, our Redeemer.
The former was common to us as men: this
is peculiar to us as Christians; and opens to
us a new scene of duties and obligations,
which a man can never forget that does not
grossly forget himself. For, as Christians we
are the disciples, the followers, and the servants
of Christ, redeemed by him.
And, 1. As the disciples of Christ, we are to
learn of him: to take our religious sentiments
only from his gospel, in opposition to all the
authoritative dictates of men, who are weak and
fallible as ourselves.  "Call no man master on
earth." While some affect to distinguish themselves by party names, as the Corinthians formerly did, (for which the apostle blames them,)
one saying, " I am of Paul;" another, "I am of
Apollos;" another, "I am of Cephas," (1 Cor. i,
12,) let us remember, that we are the disciples
of Christ, and in this sense, make mention of
his name only. It is really injurious to it, to
seek to distinguish ourselves by any other.




SELF KINO WLED G E.         65
There is more carnality in such party distinctions, denominations, and attachments, than
many good souls are aware of; though not
more than the apostle Paul (who was unwillingly placed at the head of one himself) hath
apprized them of. 1 Cor. iii, 4. We are of Christ:
our concern is, to honour that superior denomination, by living up to it;. and to adhere inflexibly to his gospel, as the only rule of our
faith, the guide of our life, and the foundation
of our hope; whatever contempt or abuse we
may suffer, either from the profane or bigoted
part of mankind, for so doing. (2.) As Christians, we are followers of Christ; and therefore
bound to imitate him, and copy after that most
excellent pattern he hath set us," C who hath left
us an example, that we should follow his steps,"
I Peter ii, 21: to see that the same holy temper " be in us which was in him;" and to discover it in the same manner he did, and upon
like occasions. To this he calls us. Matt. xi,
29. And no man is any further a Christian,
than as he is a follower of Christ; aiming at a
more perfect conformity to that most perfect
example which he bath set us of universal goodness. (3.) As Christians, we are the servants
of Christ; and the various duties which servants owe to their masters in any degree, those




66           SiELF-KN-OWLEDGEt.
we owe to him in the highest degree; who expects we should behave ourselves in his service
with that fidelity and zeal, and steady regard to
his honour and interest, at all times, which we
are bound to by virtue of this relation, and which
his unmerited and unlimited goodness and love
lay us under infinite obligations to.  (Lastly.)
We are, moreover, his redeemed servants; and,
as such, are under the strongest motives to love
and trust him.
This deserves to be more particularly considered, because it opens to us another view
of the human nature in which we should often
survey ourselves, if we desire to know ourselves; and that is, as depraved or degenerate
beings. The inward contest we so sensibly
feel, at some seasons especially, between a good
and a bad principle, (called, in Scripture language, the flesh and the spirit,) of which some
of the wisest heathens seemed not to be ignorant; this, I say, is demonstration, that some
way or other the human nature has contracted
an ill bias, (and how that came about, the sacred Scriptures have sufficiently informed us,)
and that it is not what it was when it came originally out of the hands of its Maker; so that
the words which St. Paul spake, with- reference
to the Jews in particular, are justly applicable




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.            67
to the state of mankind in general,'6 There is
none righteous, no, not one; they are all gone
out of the way, they are together become unprofitable, there is none that doth good, no, not
one."
This- is a very mortifying thought, but an undeniable truth, and one of the first principles of
that science we are treating of; and very necessary to be attended to, if we would be sensible of the duty and obligations we owe to
Christ, as the great Redeemer, in which character he appears for the relief and recovery of
mankind under this their universal depravity.
The two miserable effects of the human apostacy are, 1. That perverse dispositions grow up
in our minds from early infancy, that soon settle into vicious habits, which render us weak,
and unwilling to obey the dictates of conscience and reason, and is commonly called the
dominion of sin. And, 2. At the same time we
are subject to the displeasure of God, and the
penalty of his law; which is commonly called
the condemnation of sin. Now, in both these
respects did Christ, " the Lamb of God, come
to take away the sin of the world;" that is, to
take away the reigning power of it by the operation of his grace; and the condemning power
of it, by the atonement of his blood; to sanctify




68           SELF-KNOWLEDGE
us by his Spirit and justify us by his death.
By the former he reconciles us to God, and, by
the latter, he reconciles God to us; and is, at
once, our righteousness and strength. He died
to purchase for us the happiness we had forfeited, and sends his grace and Spirit to fit us
for that happiness he hath thus purchased. So
complete is his redemption! so suitably adapted
is the remedy he hath provided to the malady
we had contracted! c "0 blessed Redeemer of
wretched ruined creatures, how unspeakable
are the obligations I owe thee! But, ah! how
insensible am I of those obligations! The saddest symptom of degeneracy I find in my nature, is that base ingratitude of heart, which
renders me so unaffected with thine astonishing compassions.  Till I know thee, I cannot
know myself; and when I survey myself, may
I ever think of thee! may the daily consciousness of my weakness and guilt lead my thoughts
to thee; and may every thought of thee kindle
in my heart the most ardent glow of gratitude
to thee, 0 thou divine, compassionate Friend,
Lover, and Redeemer of mankind."
Whoever, then, he be, that calls himself a
Christian, that is, who professes to take the gospel of Christ for a divine revelation, and the
only rule of his faith and practice, but, at the




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.             69
same time, pays a greater regard to the dictates
of men than to the doctrine of Christ; who
loses sight of that great example of Christ
which should animate his Christian walk, is
unconcerned about his service, honour, and interest, and excludes the consideration of his
merits and atonement from his hope and happiness: he forgets that he is a Christian; he
does not consider in what relation he stands to
Christ, (which is one great part of his character,) and consequently discovers a great degree
of self-ignorance.
(3.) Self-knowledge, moreover, implies a due
attention to the several relations in which we
stand to our fellow-creatures, and the obligations
that result from thence.
If we know ourselves, we shall remember the
condescension, benignity, and love, that is due
to inferiors; the affability, friendship, and kindness, we ought to show to equals; the regard,
deference, and honour, we owe to superiors;
and the candor, integrity, and benevolence, we
owe to all.
The particular duties requisite in these relations are too numerous to be here mentioned.
Let it suffice to say, that, if a man doth not well
consider the several relations of life in which
he stands to others, and does not take care to




70           SELF-KNOWMLEDGE.
preserve the decorum and propriety of those
relations, he may justly be charged with selfignorance.
And this is so evident in itself, and so generally allowed, that nothing is more common
than to say, when a person does not behave
with due decency toward his superiors, such a
one does not understand himself.  But why
may not this with equal justice be said of those
who act in an ill manner toward their inferiors?
The expression, I know, is not so often thus
applied; but I see no reason why it should not;
since one is as common and as plain an instance of self-ignorance as the other. Nay, of
the two, perhaps, men in general are more apt
to be defective in their duty and behaviour toward those beneath them, than they are toward
those that are above them; and the reason
seems to be, because an apprehension of the
L._ pleasure of their superiors, and the detrimental consequences which may accrue from thence,
may be a check upon them, and engage them
to pay the just regards which they expect: but
there being no such check to restrain them from
violating the duties they owe to inferiors, (from
whose displeasure they have little to fear,) they
are more ready, under certain temptations, to
treat them in an unbecoming manner. And as




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.             7 1
wisdom and self-lnowledge will direct a man
to be particularly careful, lest he neglect those
duties he is most apt to forget; so, as to the
duties he owes to inferiors, in which he is most
in danger of transgressing, he ought more
strongly to urge upon himself the indispensable
obligations of religion and conscience. And if
he does not, but suffers himself, through the
violence of ungoverned passion, to be transported into the excesses of rigour, tyranny, and oppression, toward those whom God and nature
have put into his power, it is certain he does
not know himself, is not acquainted with his
own particular weakness, is ignorant of the duty
of his relation, and, whatever he may think of
himself, hath not the true spirit of government,
because he wants the art of self-government.
For he that is unable to govern himself, can
never be fit to govern others.
Would we know ourselves, then, we must
consider ourselves as creatures, as Christians,
and as men; and remember the obligations
which, as such, we are under to God, to Christ,
and our fellow-men, in the several relations in
which we stand to them, in order to maintain the
propriety, and fulfil the duties of those relations.




-72           SELF-KNO WLEDG, o
CHAPTER IV.
We must duly consider the rank and station of life in which
Providence hath placed us, and what it is that becomes ar LI
adorns it.
III. A MAN, " that knows himself, will deliberately consider and attend to the particular
rank and station in life in which Providence
hath placed him; and what is the duty and decorum  of that station; what part is given him
to act; what character to maintain; and with
what decency and propriety he acts that part,
or maintains that character."
For a man to assume a character, or aim at
a part, that does not belong to him, is affectation. And whence is it, that affectation of any
kind appears so ridiculous, and exposes men to
universal and just contempt, but because it is a
certain indication of self-ignorance? Whence
is it, that many seem so willing to be thought
something when they are nothing, and seek to
excel in those things in which they cannot,
while they neglect those things in which they
might excel? Whence is it, that they counteract the intention of nature and Providence, that
when this intended them one thing.they would
fain be another?  Whence, I say, but from an




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                 73
ignorance of themselves, the rank of life they
are in, and the part and character which properly belong to them?
It is a just observation, and an excellent document of a moral heathen, that human life is a
"'drama, and mankind the actors, who have
their several parts assigned them by the master
of the theatre, who stands behind the scenes,
and observes in what manner every one acts.
Some have a short part allotted them, and some
a long one; some a low, and some a high one.
It is not he that acts the highest or most shining part on the stage, that comes off with the
greatest applause; but he that acts his part
best, whatever it be. To take care then to act
our respective parts in life well, is ours: but
to choose what part in life we shall act, is not
ours, but God's."'*  But a man can never act
his part well, if he does not attend to it; does
* Life is a stage-play; it matters not how long we act, so
we act well, Sen. Non est bonum, vivere, sed bene vivere. It is
not life, but living well, that is the blessing. Something similar to this is the epigram by Dr. Doddridge, on dnum vivimnus
vivamus, which he assumed as his motto:"Live while you live, the epicure would say,
And seize the pleasures of the present day:
Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries,
And give to God each moment as it flies:
Lord! in my views let both united be:
I live in pleasure when I live to thee.'"




74           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
not know what becomes it; much less, if he
affect to act another, which does not belong to
him. It is always self-ignorance that leads a
man to act out of character.
Is it a mean and low station in life thou art
in? Know then, that Providence calls thee to
the exercise of industry, contentment, submission, patience, hope, and humble dependance
on him, and a respectful deference to thy superiors. In this way thou mayest shine through
thy obscurity, and render thyself amiable in
the sight of God and man. And not only so,
but find more satisfaction, safety, and self-enjoyment, than they who move in a higher
sphere, from whence they are in danger of
falling.
But hath Providence called thee to act in a
more public character, and for a more extensive
benefit to the world? Thy first care, then,
ought to be, that thy example, as far as its influence reaches, may be an encouragement to
the practice of universal virtue. And next, to
shine in those virtues especially which best
adorn thy station; as, benevolence, charity,
wisdom, moderation, firmness, and inviolable
integrity: with an undismayed fortitude to
press through all opposition in accomplishing
those ends which thou hast a, prospect and




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.             75
probability of attaining, for the apparent good of
mankind.
And as self-acquaintance will teach us what
part in life we ought to act, so the knowledge
of that will show us whom we ought to imitate,
and wherein. We are not to take example of
conduct from those who have a very different
part assigned them from ours; unless in those
things that are universally ornamental and exemplary. If we do, we shall but expose our
affectation and weakness, and ourselves to contempt for acting out of character. For what is
decent in one may be ridiculous in another.
Nor must we blindly follow those who move in
the same sphere, and sustain the same character
with ourselves; but only in those things that are
befitting that character; for it is not the person,
but the character, we are to regard; and to imitate him no further than he keeps to that.
This caution especially concerns youth, who
are apt to imitate their superiors very implicitly,
especially such as excel in that part or profession which they themselves are aiming at: but
for want of judgment to distinguish what is fit
and decent, are apt to imitate their very foibles,
which a partiality for their persons makes
them deem as excellences; and thereby they
become doubly ridiculous, both by acting out of




76            SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
character themselves, and by a weak and servile imitation of others in the very things in
which they do so too.  To maintain a character then with decency, we must keep our eye
only upon that which is proper to it.
In fine, as no man can excel in every thing,
we must consider what part is allotted us to
act, in the station in which Providence hath
placed us, and keep to that, be it what it will,
and seek to excel in that only.
CHAPTER V.
Every man should be well acquainted with his own talents
and capacities; and in what manner they are to be exercised
and improved to the greatest advantage.
IV. " A MAN cannot be said to know himself,
till he is well acquainted with his proper
talents and capacities; knows for what ends he
received them; and how they may be most
fitly applied and improved for those ends."
A wise and self-understanding man, instead
of aiming at talents he hath not, will set about
cultivating those he hath, as the way in which
Providence points out his proper usefulness.
As, in order to the edification of the church,
the Spirit of God at first conferred upon the




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.              77
ministers of it a great variety of spiritual gifts,
1 Cor. xii, 8-10; so for the good of the community, God is pleased now to confer upon
men a great variety of natural talents.  And
"every one hath his proper gift of God, one
after this manner, and another after that," 1 Cor.
vii, 7.  And every one is to take care "not
to neglect, but to stir up the gift of God which
is in him," 1 Tim. iv, 14; 2 Tim. i, 6. Because
it was given him to be improved; and not only
the abuse, but the neglect of it must be hereafter
accounted for.  Witness the doom of that unprofitable servant who laid tip his single pound
in a napkin; and of him who went and hid
his talent in the earth.
It is certainly a sign of great self-ignorance
for a man to venture out of his depth, or attempt
any thing he wants opportunity or capacity to
accomplish. And therefore, a wise man will
consider with himself, before he undertakes
any thing of consequence, whether he hath
abilities to carry him  through it, and whether
the issue of it is like to be for his credit; lest
he sink under the weight he lays upon himself,
and incur the just censure of rashness, presumption, and folly. See Luke xiv, 28-32.*
* "He that takes up a burden that is too heavy for him, is in
a fair way to break his back. In every business consider,




78              SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
It is no uncommon thing for some, who excel
in one thing, to imagine they may excel in
every thing; and, not content with that share
of merit which every one allows them, are still
catching at that which does not belong to them.
Why should a good orator affect to be a poet?
Why must a celebrated divine set up for a politician? or a statesman affect the philosopher?
or a mechanic the scholar? or a wise man
labour to be thought a wit?  This is a weakness that flows from self-ignorance, and is incident to the  greatest men.  Nature  seldom
forms a universal genius, but deals out her
favours in the present state with a parsimonious hand.  Many a man, by this foible, hath
weakened a well-established reputation.*
first, what it is you are about; and then your own ability,
whether it be sufficient to carry you through it." —Epict.
" Examine well, ye writers, weigh with care
WVVhat suits your genius, what your strength can bear;
For when a well-proportion'd theme you choose,
Nor words, nor method shall their aid refuse.
In this, or I mistake, consists the grace,
And force of method; to assign a place
For what with present judgment we should say,
And for some happier time the rest delay."
Francis's Holrce.' Cocilius, a famous rhetorician of Sicily, who lived in the
time of Augustus, and wrote a treatise on the sublime, (which
is censured by Longinus in the beginning of his,) was a man
of a hasty and enterprising spirit, and very apt to overshoot




iELF-KNO  L E DGE.             79
CHAPTER VI.
We must be well acquainted with our inabilities, and those
things in which we are naturally deficient, as well as those in
which we excel.
V. " WE must, in order to a thorough selfacquaintance, not only consider our talents and
proper abilities, but have an eye to our frailties
and- deficiencies, that we may know where our
wealiness as well as our strength lies." Otherwise, like Samson, we may run ourselves into
infinite temptations and troubles.
Every man hath a weak side. Every wise
man knows where it is, and will be sure to keep
a double guard there.
There is some wisdom in concealing a weakness.  This  cannot be  done, till it be first
known; nor can it be known without a good
degree of self-acquaintance.
It is strange to observe what pains some
men are at to expose themselves; to signalize
their own folly; and to set out to the most pubhimself on all occasions; and particularly ventured far out of
his depth in his comparison of Demosthenes and Cicero.
Whereupon Plutarch made this sage and candid remark: "If,"
says he, " it were a thing obvious and easy for every man to
know himself, possibly that saying,' Know thyself,' had not
passed for a divine oracle."




80          *S    -  SENLF-KINOWLEDGE.
lie view those things which they ought to be
ashamed to think should ever enter into their
character. But so it is; some men seem to be.
ashamed of those things which should be their
glory, while others " glory in their shame,"
Phil. iii, 19.
The greatest weakness in a man is to publish
his weaknesses, and to appear fond to have
them known. But vanity will often prompt a
man to this, who, unacquainted with the measure of his capacities, attempts things out of
his power, and beyond his reach, whereby he
makes the world acquainted with two things to
his disadvantage, which they were ignorant of
before, namely, his deficiency and his self-ignorance, in appearing so blind to it.
It is ill-judged (though very common) to be
less ashamed of a want of temper, than understanding. For it is no real dishonour or fault in
a man to have but a small ability of mind, provided he hath not the vanity to set up for a
genius, (which would be as ridiculous, as for a
man of small strength and stature of body to set
up for a champion,) because this is what he cannot help. But a man may, in a good measure,
correct the fault of his natural temper, if he be
well acquainted with it, and duly watchful over
it. And, therefore, to betray a prevailing weak



SELF-IKNOWLEDGE.           8 t
hess of temper, or an ungoverned passion, dininishes a man's reputation much more than to
discover a weakness of judgment or understanding. But what is most dishonourable of all is,
for a man at once to discover a great genius and
an ungoverned mind; because, that strength of
reason and understanding he is master of, gives
him a great advantage for the government of his
passions; and, therefore, his suffering himself,
notwithstanding, to be governed by them, shows,
that he hath too much neglected or misapplied
his natural talent, and willingly submitted to
the tyranny of those lusts and passions, over
which nature had furnished him with abilities
to have secured an easy conquest.
A wise man hath his foibles, as well as a fool.
But the difference between them is, that the
foibles of the one are known to himself, and
concealed from the world; the foibles of the
other are known to the world, and concealed
from himself. The wise man sees those frailties in himself which others cannot; but the
fool is blind to those blemishes in his character
which are conspicuous to every body else.
Whence it appears, that self-knowledge is that
which lmakes the main difference between a
wise man and a fool, in the moral sense of that
word.




82           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER VII.
Concerning the knowledge of our constitutional sins.
VI. " SELF-ACQUAINTANCE shOWS a man the
particular sins he is most exposed and addicted to; and discovers not only what is ridiculous, but what is criminal, in his conduct and
temper."
The outward actions of a man are generally
the plainest index of his inward dispositions;
and by the allowed sins of his life, you may
know the reigning vices of his mind. Is he addicted to luxury and debauch? sensuality then
appears to be his prevailing taste.  Is he given
to revenge and cruelty? choler and malice,
then, reign in his heart. Is he confident, bold,
and enterprising? ambition appears to be the
secret spring. Is he sly and designing, given to
intrigue and artifice? you may conclude, there
is a natural subtlety of temper that prompts him
to this. And this secret disposition is criminal,
in proportion to the degree in which these outward actions, which spring from it, transgress
the bounds of reason and virtue.
Every man hath something peculiar in the
turn or cast of his mind, which distinguishes




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                   83
him as much as the particular constitution of
his body. And both these, viz., his particular
turn of mind, and particular constitution of body,
incline and dispose him to some kind of sins
much more than to others. And the same it is
that renders the practice of certain virtues so
much more easy to some than it is to others.*
Now, those sins which men generally are most
strongly inclined to, and the temptations which
they. find they have least power to resist, are
usually and properly called their constitutional
-: Men, with regard to their bodies and bodily appetites, are
pretty much alike; but with regard to their mental tastes and
dispositions, they are often as different, as if they were quite
of another species; governed by different views, entertained
with different pleasures, animated with different hopes, and
affected by different motives, and distinguished by different tempers and inclinations, as if they were not of the same
kind. So that I am very ready to believe, that there is not a
greater difference between an angel and some of the best and
wisest of men, with rega'd to their temper and dispositions,
than there is between some sort of men and others. And
what inclines me to this sentiment is, considering the easy
transition which nature always observes in passing from one
order or kind of beings to another, together with the prodigious
difference there appears to be between individuals of the human species, almost in every thing belonging to them. For
there are some, " in whom one would think nature had placed
every thing the wrong way;" depraved in their opinions, unintelligible in their reasoning, irregular in their actions, and
vicious in every disposition. While in others we see almost
every thing amiable and excellent that can adorn and exalt
the human mind under the disadvtantages of mortality.




84            SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
sins; their peculiar frailties; and, in Scripture,
their own iniquities, (Psa. xviii, 23,) and the
sins which " do most easily beset them," Heb.
xii, 1.
" As in the humours of the body, so in the
vices of the mind, there is one predominant,
which has an ascendant over us, and leads and
governs us. It is in the body of sin what the
heart is in the body of our nature; it begins to
live first, and dies last; and, while it lives, it
communicates life and spirit to the whole body
of sin; and, when it dies, the body of sin expires with it. It is the sin to which our constitution leads, our circumstances betray, and
custom enslaves us; the sin to which not our
virtues only, but vices, too, lower their topsail,
and submit; the sin which, when we would
impose upon God and our conscience, we excuse and disguise with all imaginable artifice
and sophistry: but, when we are sincere with
both, we oppose first, and conquer last. It is,
in a word, the sin which reigns and rules in
the unregenerate, and too often alarms and
disturbs (ah! that I could say no more) the
regenerate."-Lucas's Sermons, vol. i, p. 151.
Some are more inclined to the sins of the flesh;
sensuality, intemperance, uncleanness, sloth,
self-i~ndu lgence and excess in animal gratifica



SELF-KNOWVTLE DGE.         85
tions.  Others more inclined to the sins of the
spirit; pride, malice, covetousness, ambition,
wrath, revenge, envy, &c. And I am persuaded there are few, but, upon a thorough search
into themselves, may find that some one of
these sins hath ordinarily a greater power over
them than the rest.  Others often observe it in
them, if they themselves do not.  And for a
man not to know his predominant iniquity is
great self-ignorance indeed, and a sign that he
has all his life lived far from home; because he
is not acquainted with that in himself, which
every one, who is but half an hour in his company, perhaps, may be able to inform him of.
Hence proceeds that extreme weakness which
some discover, in censuring others for the very
same faults they are guilty of themselves, and,
perhaps, in a much higher degree; on which
the apostle Paul animadverts, Rom. ii, 1.
It must be owned, it is an irksome and disagreeable business for a man to turn his own
accuser; to search after his own faults, and
keep his eye upon that which it gives him
shame and pain to see. It is like tearing open
an old wound.  But it is better to do this than
to let it mortify. The wounds of the conscience,
like those of the body, cannot be well cured till
they are searched to the bottom; and they can



86             SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
not be searched without pain. A man that is
engaged in the study of himself must be content to know the worst of himself.
Do not, therefore, shut your eyes against your
darling sin, or be averse to find it out. Why
should you study to conceal or excuse it, and
fondly cherish that viper in your bosom? " Some
men deal by their sins, as some ladies do by
their persons. When their beauty is decayed,
they seek to hide it from themselves by false
glasses, and from  others by paint.  So, many
seek to hide their sins from themselves by false
glosses, and from others by excuses, or false
colours."-Baxter.   But  the  greatest  cheat
they put upon themselves.  "They that cover
their sins shall not prosper," Prov. xxviii, 13.
It is dangerous self-flattery to give soft and
smoothing names to sins, in order to disguise
their nature. Rather lay your hand upon your
heart, and thrust it into your bosom, though it
come out (as Moses's did) leprous as snow.
Exod. iv, 6.*
* " The knowledge of sin is the first step toward amendment: for he that does not know he hath offended, is not will.
ing to be reproved. You must therefore find out yourself
before you can amend yourself. Some glory in their vices.
And do you imagine they have any thoughts about reforming
who place their very vices in the room of virtues? Therefore reprove thyself: search thyself very narrowly. First




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                   87
And to find out our most beloved sin, let us
consider what are those  worldly  objects  or
amusements which give us the highest delight:
this, it is probable, will lead us directly to some
one of our darling iniquities, if it be a sin of
commission; and what are those duties-which
we read or hear of, from  the word of God, to
which we find ourselves most disinclined: and
this, in all likelihood, will help us to detect
some of our peculiar sins of omission, which,
without such previous examination, we may not
be sensible of. And thus may we make a proficiency in one considerable branch of selfknowledge.*
turn accuser to thyself, then a judge, and then a suppliant..
And dare for once to displease thyself."-Seneca.
* "It is a good argument of a reformed mind, that it
sees those vices in itself which it was before ignorant of."Seneca.
A man's predominant sin usually arises out of his predominant passion; which, therefore, he should diligently observe.
The nature and force of which is beautifully described by a
great master of English verse:"On different senses different objects strike.
Hlence different passions more or less inflame,
As strong or weak, the organs of the frame;
And hence one master-passion in the breast,
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
Nature its mother, habit is its nurse;
Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse;.




88      ~      SELF-KNOWLEDE.T
CHAPTER  VIII.
The knowledJge of our most dangerous temptations necessary
to self-knowledge.
VII. "A  MAN, that rightly knows himself,
is acquainted with  his peculiar temptations;
and knows when, and in what circumstances,
he is in the greatest danger of transgressing."
Reader, if ever you would know yourself,
you must examine this point thoroughly. And,
if you have never yet done it, make a pause
when you have read this chapter, and do it
now. Consider in what company you are most
apt to lose the possession and government of
yourself; on what occasions you are apt to be
most vain and unguarded, most warm and precipitant. Flee that company, avoid those occasions, if you would keep your conscience clear.
What is it that robs you most of your time and
your temper? If you have a due regard to the
improvement of the one, and the preservation
Reason itself but gives it edge and power,
As heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour.
Ah! if she lend not arms as well as rules,
What can she more than tell us we are fools?
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
A sharp accuser, bnt a helpless friend!" — Pope




SELF-KNOWLED(GE.           89
of the other, you will regret such a loss, and
shun the occasions of it, as carefully as you
would a road beset with robbers.
But especially must you attend to the occasions which most usually betray you into your
favourite vices; and consider the spring from
whence they arise, and the circumstances
which most favour them. They arise, doubtless,
from your natural temper, which strongly disposes and inclines you to them. That temper,
then, or particular turn of desire, must be carefully watched over as a most dangerous quarter.
And the opportunities and circumstances which
favour those inclinations must be resolutely
avoided, as the strongest temptations. For the
way to subdue a criminal inclination is, first, to
avoid the known occasions that excite it, and
then to curb the first motions of it.  And thus,
having no opportunity of being indulged, it will,
of itself, in time, lose its force, and fail of its
wronted victory.
The surest way to conquer, is sometimes to
decline a battle; to weary out the enemy by
keeping him at bay. Fabius Maximus did not
use this stratagem  more successfully against
Hannibal, than a Christian may against his peculiar vice, if he be but watchful of his advantages.  It is dangerous to provoke an unequal




90            SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
enemy to the fight, or to run into such a situation where we cannot expect to escape without
a disadvantageous encounter.
It is of unspeakable importance, in order to
self-knowledge and self-government, to be acquainted with all the accesses and avenues to
sin, and to observe which way it is that we are
oftenest led to it; and to set reason and conscience to guard those passes, those usual inlets
to vice, which, if a man once enters, he will
find a retreat extremely difficult.
"W Tatchfulness, which is always necessary,
is chiefly so when the first assaults are made;
for then the enemy is most easily repulsed, if
we never suffer him to get within us, but, upon
the very first approach, draw up our forces,
and fight him without the gate.  And this will
be more manifest, if we observe by what methods and degrees temptations grow upon us.
The first thing that presents itself to the mind
is a plain, single thought; this, straight, is improved into a strong imagination; that, again,
enforced by a sensible delight; then follow
evil motions; and, when these are once stirred,
there wants nothing but the assent of the will,
and then the work is finished.  Now, the first
steps of this are seldom thought worth our care,
sometimes not taken notice of; so that the




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           91
enemy is frequently got close up to us, and
even within our trenches, before we observe
him."-Thomas a Kempis, p. 22.
As men have their particular sins, which do
most easily beset them, so they have their particular temptations, which do most easily overcome them. That may be a very great temptation to one, which is none at all to another.
And if a man does not know what are his
greatest temptations, he must have been a great
stranger, indeed, to the business of self-employment.
As the subtle enemy of mankind takes care
to draw men gradually into sin, so he usually
draws them, by degrees, into temptation. As he
disguises the sin, so he conceals the temptation
to it; well knowing, that, were they but once
sensible of their danger of sin, they would be
ready to be upon their guard against it. Would
we know ourselves thoroughly, then, we must
get acquainted, not only with our most usual
temptations, that we be not unawares drawn
into sin, but with the previous steps, and preparatory circumstances, which make way for
those temptations, that we be not drawn unawares into the occasions of sin; for those things
which lead us into temptations, are to be considered as temptations, as well as those which




92           SIELF-KNOWLE DGtE.
immediately lead us into sin. And a man that
knows himself will be aware of his remote
temptations, as well as the more immediate
ones; for example, if he find the company of a
passionate man is a temptation, (as Solomon
tells us it is, Prov. xxii, 24, 25,) he will not only
avoid it, but those occasions that may lead him
into it. And the petition, in the Lord's prayer,
makes it as much a man's duty to be upon his
guard against temptation, as under it. Nor can
a man pray from his heart, that God would not
lead him into temptation, if he take no care
himself to avoid it.
CHAPTER IX.
Self-knowledge discovers the secret prejudices of the heart.
VIII. ANOTHER important branch of selfknowledge is, for a man to be acquainted with
his own prejudices, or those secret prepossessions of his heart, which, though so deep and
latent that he may not be sensible of them, are
often so strong and prevalent, as to give a
mighty, but imperceptible,.bias to the mind.
And in this the great art of self-knowledge
consists, more than in any one thing again. It
being, therefore, a matter of such mighty con



SELLF-KNOWLEDGE.            93
sequence, and, at the same time, a point to
which men, in general, are too inattentive, it
deserves a more particular discussion.
These prejudices of the human mind may be
considered with regard to opinions, persons,
and things.
(1.) With regard to opinions.
It is a common observation, but well expressed by a late celebrated writer, "that
we set out in life with such poor beginnings
of knowledge, and grow up under such remains of superstition and ignorance, such
influences of company and fashion, such insinuations of pleasures, &c., that it is no wonder
if men get habits of thinking only in one way;
that these habits, in time, grow rigid and confirmed; and so their minds come to be overcast
with thick prejudices, scarce penetrable by any
ray of truth, or light of reason."-See Religion
of Nature delineated, p. 129.
There is no man but is more fond of one particular set or scheme of opinions in philosophy,
politics, and religion, than he is of another, if he
hath employed his thoughts at all about them.
The question we should examine, then, is, How
come we by these attachments? whence are
we so fond of those particular notions? did
we comle fairly by themn? or, were they iln



94           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
posed upon us, and dictated to our easy belief, before we were able to judge of them?
This is most likely. For the impressions we
early receive, generally grow up with us, and
are those we least care to part with. However,
which way soever we came by them, they must
be re-examined, and brought to the touch-stone
of sound sense, solid reason, and plain Scripture. If they will not bear this, after hard
rubbing, they must be discarded as no genuine
principles of truth, but only counterfeits of it.
And, as reason and Scripture must discover
our prejudices to us, so they only can help us
to get rid of them. By these are we to rectify,
and to these are we to conform all our opinions
and sentiments in religion, as our only standard,
exclusive of all other rules, light, or authority
whatsoever.
And care must further be taken, that we do
not make Scripture and reason bend and buckle
to our notions, which will rather confirm our
prejudices than cure them. For, whatever cannot evidently be made out, without the help of
overstrained metaphors, and the arts of sophistry, is much to be suspected; which used to
make Archbishop Tillotson say, Non amo argutias in theologia, "I do not love subtleties in
divinity." But,




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.             95
(2.) The human mind is very apt to be prejudiced, either for or against certain persons,
as well as certain sentiments. And, as prejudice will lead a man to talk very unreasonably
with regard to the latter, so it will lead himn
to act very unreasonably with regard to the
former.
What is the reason, for instance, that we
cannot help having a more hearty affection for
some persons than others? Is it from a similarity of taste and temper? or something in
their address, that flatters our vanity? or something in their humour, that hits our fancy? or
something in their conversation, that improves
our understanding? or a certain sweetness of
disposition, and agreeableness of manner, that
is naturally engaging? or from benefits received
or expected from them? or from some eminent
and distinguished excellence in them? or from
none of these, but something else, we cannot
tell what? Such sort of inquiries will show us,
whether our esteem and affections be rightly
placed, or flow from mere instinct, blind prejudice, or something worse.
And so, on the other hand, with regard to our
disaffection toward any one, or the disgust we
have taken against him; if we would know ourselvres we must examine into the bottom of this,




96           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
and see, not only what is the pretended, but true
cause of it; whether it be a justifiable one. and
our resentments duly proportioned to it. Is his
manner of thinking, talking, and acting, quite
different from mine, and therefore what I cannot approve? or have I received some real
affront or injury from him? Be it so; my continued resentment against him, on either of these
accounts, may be owing, notwithstanding, more
to some unreasonable prejudice in me, than any
real fault in him.
For, as to the former, his way of thinking,
talking, and acting may possibly be juster than
my own; which the mere force of custom and
habit only makes me prefer to his. However,
be his ever so wrong, he may not have had the
same advantage of improving his understanding,
address, and conduct, as I have had; and therefore his defects herein are more excusable. And
he may have many other kind of excellences,
which I have not.  "But he is not only ignorant and unmannered, but insufferably vain,
conceited, and overbearing at the same time."
Why, that, perhaps, he cannot help; it is the
fault of his nature. He is the object of pity,
rather than resentment. And had I such a temnper by nature, I should, perhaps, with all my
self-improvement, find it a difficult thing to ma



SELF-KNOWLEDGE.              97
nage: and therefore, though I can never choose
such a one for an agreeable companion, yet I
ought not to harbour a dislike to him, but love,
and pity, and pray for him, as a person under a
great misfortune, and be thankfuill that I am not
under the same. " But he is quite blind to this
fault of his-temper, and does not appear to be
in the least sensible of it."  WVhy, that is a
greater misfortune still, and he ought to be the
more pitied.
And as to the other pretended ground of prejudice, " He hath often offended and injured
me," let me consider, 1. Whether any offence
was really intended; whether I do not impute
that to ill nature, which was only owing to ill
manners; or that to design, which proceeded
only from ignorance.  Do I not take offence
before it is given? If so, the fault is mine, and
not his: and the resentment I have conceived
against him, I ought to turn upon myself.*
Again, 2. Did I not provoke him to it, when I
knew his temper? The fault is still my own.
I did, or might know, the pride, passion, or
perverseness of his nature; why, then, did I
"For every trifle scorn to take offence;
That always shows great pride, or little sense.
Good nature and good sense must always join;
To err is human, to forgive divine."-Pope.
7




9ELF-KNO WLEDGOl.
exasperate him?  A man that will needlessly
rouse a lion, must not expect always to come
off so favourably as the hero of La Mancha.
But, 3. Suppose I were not the aggressor, yet,
how came I into his company? who led me
into the temptation? He hath acted according to
his nature in what he hath done; but I have not
acted according to my reason,in laying myself so
open to him. I knew him.; why did I not shun
him, as I would any other dangerous animal,
that does mischief by instinct? If I must needs
put my finger into a wasps' nest, why should I
blame them for stinging me? Or, 4. If I could
not avoid his company, why did I not arm myself?  Why did I venture, defenceless, into so
much danger? Or, 5. Suppose he hath done
me a real and undeserved injury, without my
fault or provocation, yet, does not my present
discontent greatly aggravate it?  Does it not
appear greater to me than it does to any body
else? or than it will to me, after the present
ferment is over?  And, lastly, after all, must I
never forgive? How shall I be able to repeat
the Lord's prayer, or read our Saviour's cornmment upon it, (Matt. vi, 14, 15,) with an unforgiving temper? Do I not hope to be forgiven ten thousand talents? and cannot I forgive my fellow-servant thirty pence, when I




SELF-ILKNOWMrLEDGE.                99
know not but he hath repented, and God hath
forgiven him, whose forgiveness I want infinitely  more  than  my  greatest enemy  does
mine.*
Such considerations are of great use to soften
our prejudices against persons; and at once to
discover the true spring, and prevent the bad
effects of them. And happy would it be for a
Christian, could he but call to mind, and apply
to his relief, half the good things which that
excellent heathen emperor and philosopher,
* A man despises me: what then? Did he know me more,
he would perhaps despise me more. But I know myself better than he can know me; and therefore despise myself more.
And though his contempt, in this instance, may be groundless,
yet in others it would be but too well founded. I will therefore not only bear with, but forgive it.
It has been reckoned a wise and witty answer which one
of the philosophers returned to his fiiend, who advised him
to revenge an injury that had been done him: " What!" says
he, "if an ass kicks me, must I needs kick him again?" And,
perhaps, there is more wit than wisdom in that reply. It
seems, indeed, to carry in it something of a true greatness of
mind; but does it not at the same time discover a kind of
haughty and contemptuous spirit? The truth is, as a judicious
writer observes, " It is at best but a lame and misshapen charity; it has more of pride than goodness. We should learn
of the holy Jesus, who was not only meek, but lowly. We
should contemn the injury, and pity the weakness; but should
not disdain or despise the persons of our enemies. Charity
vaunteth not herself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself
unseemly." —See Scoeugal's Duty of Loving our Enemies.




1 00             SELF-KN OWLEDGE.
Marcus Antoninus, could say upon  this  subject; some of which I have, for the benefit of
the English reader, extracted, and thrown into
the margin.*
(3.) The mind is apt to be prejudiced against'* "In the morning remember to say to thyself, This day, perhaps, I may meet with some impertinent, ungrateful, peevish,
tricking, envious, churlish fellow. Now all these ill qualities
proceed from an ignorance of good and evil. And since I am
so happy as to understand the natural beauty of a good action,
and the deformity of an ill one; and since the person that disobliges me is of near kin to me; and though not just of the
same blood and family, yet of the same divine extract as to
his mind; and, finally, since I am convinced that no one can
do me a real injury, because he cannot force me to do a dishonest thing; for these reasons I cannot find in my heart to
hate him, or so much as to be angry with him."-M-arc. Anton.
Medit., b. 2, Q 1.
" You are just taking leave of the world, and have you not
yet learned to be friends with every body? And that to be an
honest man, is the only way to be a wise one."-Ibid., b. 4, ~ 37.
" To expect an impossibility is madness; now it is impossible for ill men not to do ill things."-Ibid., b. 5, ~ 17.
" A man misbehaves himself toward me; what is that to me?
Let him look to that, for the action is his, and he acts according to his own disposition. As for me, I am in the condition
Providence would have me, and am doing what becomes
me."-Ibid., b. 4, ~ 25.
"It is the privilege of human nature above brutes to love
those that offend us. In order to this consider, (1.) That the
offending party is of kin to you. (2.) That he acts thus, because he knows no better. (3.) He may have no design to
offend you. (4.) You will both of you quickly be in your
graves.  But above all, (5.) You have received no ha-rn




SriLF-riNOWLED  GE.               101
or in favour of certain things and actions, as
well as certain sentiments and persons.
If, therefore, you find in yourself a secret
from him; for your mind or reason is the same as before."Ibid., b. 7, ~ 22.
"Think upon your last hour, and do not trouble yourself
about other people's faults, but leave them there where they
must be answered for."-Ibid., b. 7, ~ 29.
"Do not return the temper of ill-natured people upon themselves, nor treat them as they do the rest of mankind."Ibid., b. 7, ~ 55.
"Though the gods are immortal, yet they not only patiently
bear with a wicked world through so many ages, but what is
more, liberally provide for it: and are you, who aye just going
off the stage, weary with bearing, though you are one of those
unhappy mortals yourself?" —Ibid., b. 7, Q 70.
"Never disturb yourself; for men will do the same untoward actions over again, though you burst with spleen."Ibid., b. 8, ~ 4.
" Reform an injurious person if you can: if not, remember
your patience was given you to bear with him; that the gods
patiently bear with such men, and sometimes bestow upon
them health, and fame, and fortune."-Ibid., b. 9, ~ 11.
"When people treat you ill, and show their spite and slander you, enter into their little souls, go to the bottom of them,
search their understandings; and you will soon see, that nothing they may think or say of you need give you one troublesome thought." —Ibid., b. 9, l 27.
"That is the best thing for a man which God sends him; and
that is the best time when he sends it."-Ibid., b. 9, Q 27.
" It is sometimes a hard matter to be certain, whether you
have received ill usage or not; for men's actions oftentimes
look worse than they are: and one must be thoroughly informed of a great many things, before he can rightly judge," —
lbid., bh 11, 1 18.




10'2            SELF-KNOWI,EDGE,
disinclination to any particular action or duty,
and the mind begins to cast about for excuses
and reasons to justify the neglect of it, consider
the matter well; go to the bottom of that reluctance, and search out what it is that gives
the mind this aversion to it; whether it be the
thing or action itself, or some discouraging circumstances that may attend  it, or some disagreeable consequences that may possibly flow
from it, or your supposed unfitness for it at present.  Why, all these things may be only imaginary. And to neglect a plain and positive
duty, upon such considerations, shows that you
are governed by appearances more than realities, by fancy more than reason, and by inclination more than conscience.
" Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger
and grief, than those very things for which you are angry and
grieved." —Ibid., b. 11, ~ 18.
"When you fancy any one hath transgressed, say thus to
yourself:'How do I know it is a fault? But admit it is, it
may be his conscience hath corrected him; and then he hath
received his punishment from himself.' " —bid., b. 12, ~ 16.
To these I shall add two more quotations, out of the sacred
writings, of incomparably greater weight and dignity than any
of the fore-mentioned. Prov. xix, 11: " The discretion of a
man deferreth his anger: and it is his glory to pass over a
transgression."  Rom. xii, 20, 21: " If thine enemy hunger,
feed him: if he thrst, give him drink: for in so doing, thou
shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of
evil, but overcome evil with good."




S, LF-a    I,    I D  I'.  OD103
But let fancy muster up all the discouraging
circumstances, and set them in the most formidable light, to bar your way to a supposed duty;
for instance, "It is very difficult, I Awant capacity, at least I am so indisposed to it at present,
that I shall male nothing of it; and then it
will be attended with danger to my person, reputation, or peace; and the opposition I am
like to meet with is great," &c.  But, after all,
is the call of Providence clear? is the thing a
plain duty, such as reason, conscience, and
Scripture, your office, character, or personal
engagement, call upon you to discharge?  If
so, all the aforesaid objections are vain and delusive; and you have nothing to do but to summon your courage, and, in dependance on divine
help, to set about the business immediately, and
in good earnest, and in the best and wisest
manner you can; and, you may depend upon
it, you will find the greatest difficulty to lie
only in the first attempt; these fiightful appearances to be all visionary, the mere figments
of fancy, turning lambs into lions, and molehills into mountains; and that nothing but sloth,
folly, and self-indulgence, thus set your imagination on work, to deter you from a plain
duty. Your heart would deceive you; but you




104           SfLF-I NOWLEDGE. 
have found out the cheat, and do not be imposed upon.*
Again, suppose the thing done; consider how
it will look then. Take a view of it as past;
and, whatever pains it may cost you, think
whether it will not be abundantly recompensed
by the inward peace and pleasure which arise
from a consciousness of having acted right. It
certainly will. And the difficulties you now
dread will enhance your future satisfaction. But
think again how you will bear the reflections
of your own mind, if you wilfully neglect a plain
and necessary duty; whether this will not occasion you much more trouble than all the pains
you might be at in performing it. And a wise
man will always determine himself by the end,
or by such a retrospective view of things, considered as past.
Again, on the other hand, if you find a strong
propension to any particular action, examine
that with the like impartiality.  Perhaps, it is
what neither your reason nor conscience can
fully approve; and yet every motive to it is
strongly urged, and every objection against it
" The wise and prudent conquer difficulties
By daring to attempt them. Sloth and folly
Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and danger,
And make th' impossibility they fear." —Rowe.




'SELFI(CNOWLEDGf.          105
slighted.  Sense and appetite grow importunate and clamorous, and want to lead, while
reason remonstrates in vain. But turn not aside
from that faithful and friendly monitor, while,
with a low still voice, she addresses you in
this soft but earnest language: "L Hear me, I
beseech you, but this one word more. The action is indeed out of character; what I shall
never approve.  The pleasure of it is a great
deal overrated; you will certainly be disappointed. It is a false appearance that now deceives you.  And what will you think of yourself when it is past, and you come to reflect
seriously on the matter?  Believe it, you will
then wish you had taken me for your counsellor, instead of those enemies of mine, your lusts
and passions, which have so often misled you,
though, you know, I never did."
Such short recollections as these, and a little
leisure to take a view of the nature and consequences of things or actions, before we reject or
approve them, will prevent much false judgment
and bad conduct, and, by degrees, wear off the
prejudices which fancy has fixed in the mind,
either for or against any particular action;
teach us to distinguish between things and
their appearances; strip them of those false
colours that so often deceive us; correct the




106          SELF-KNOWLEDQGE.
sallies of the ilmagination, and leave the reins
in the hand of reason.
Before I dismiss this head, I must observe,
that some of our strongest prejudices arise from
an excessive self-esteem, or too great value for
our own good sense and understanding. Philautus, in every thing, shows himself very well
satisfied with his own wisdomn, which makes him
very impatient of contradiction, and gives him a
distaste to all who shall presume to oppose their
judgment to his in any thing.  He had rather
persevere in a mistake than retract it, lest his
judgment should suffer, not considering that his
ingenuity and good sense suffer much more by
such obstinacy.  The fulness of his self-sufficiency makes him blind to those imperfections
which every one can see in him but himself.
So that, however wise, sincere, and friendly,
however gentle and seasonable your remonstrance may be, he takes it immediately to proceed from ill-nature or ignorance in you, but
from no fault in him.
Seneca, I remember, tells us a remarkable
story, which very well illustrates this matter.
Writing to his friend Lucilius, "My wife," says
he, " keeps Harpastes in her house still, who,
you know, is a sort of family fool, and an incumbrance upon uls. For my part, I am far




SELF-KNOWLEDG E.                107
from taking any pleasure in such prodigies.
If I have a mind to divert myself with a fool,
I have not far to go for one; I can laugh at
myself.  This silly girl, all on a sudden, lost
her eye-sight; and (which, perhaps, may seem
incredible, but it is very true) she does not
know  she is blind, but is every now  and then
desiring her governess to lead her abroad, saying, the house is dark.  Now, what we laugh at
in this poor creature, we may observe, happens
to us all.  No man knows that he is covetous
or insatiable. Yet, with this difference, the
blind seek somebody to lead them, but we are
content to wander without a guide. But why
do we thus deceive ourselves? The disease
is not without us, but fixed deep within. And
therefore is the cure so difficult, because we do
not know that we are sicki.":
* Sen. Epist. 51.
" The reflection calculated above all others to allay that temper [referred to in the former part of this chapter] which is
ever finding out provocations, and which renders anger so
impetuous, is, that we ourselves are, or shortly shall be suppliants for mercy and pardon at the judgment seat of God;
casting ourselves on his compassion; crying out for mercy:
imagine such a creature to talk of satisfaction and revenge;
refusing to be entreated; disdaining to forgive; extreme to
mark and to resent what is done amiss: imagine this, and you
can hardly bring to yourself an instance of more impious and
unnatural arrogance."-Paley, tMeor. Phil.




108          SELF-KN(-).W LE D CE.
CHAPTER Xv
The necessity and means of- knowing our natural tempers.
IX. " Another very important branch of selfknowledge is, the knowledge of those governing passions or dispositions of the mind which
generally form what we call a man's natural
temper."
The difference of natural tempers seems to be
chiefly owing to the different degrees of influence the several passions have upon the mind:
for example, if the passions are eager, and soon
raised, we say, the man is of a warm temper; if
more sluggish, and slowly raised, he is of a cool
temper; according as anger, malice, or ambition,
prevail, he is of a fierce, churlish, or haughty
temper; the influence of the softer passions of
love, pity, and benevolence, forms a sweet,
sympathizing, and courteous temper; and where
all the passions are duly poised, and the milder
and pleasing ones prevail, they make what is
commonly called, a quiet, good-natured man.
So that, it is the prevalence or predominance
of any particular passion, which gives the turn
or tincture to a man's temper, by which he is
distinguished, and for which he is loved and
esteemed, or shunned and despised, by others.




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.            ] 09
Now, what this is, those we converse with
are soon sensible of. They presently see
through us, and know the fault of our temper,
and order their behaviour to us accordingly.
If they are wise and well-mannered, they will
avoid touching the string, which, they know,
will jar and raise a discord within us. If they
are our enemies, they will do it on purpose to
setus on tormenting ourselves. And our friends
we must suffer sometimes, with a gentle hand,
to touch it, either by way of pleasant raillery,
or faithful advice.
But a man must be greatly unacquainted with
himself, if he is ignorant of his predominant
passion, or distinguishing temper, when every
one else observes it. And yet, how common
is this piece of self-ignorance! The two apostles, Peter and John, discovered it in that very
action wherein they meant to express nothing
but a hearty zeal for their Master's honour;
which made him tell them, that they knew not
what manner of spirit they were of," Luke ix,
55; that is, that, instead of a principle of love
and genuine zeal for Him, they were, at that
time, governed by a spirit of pride, revenge,
and cruelty. And that the apostle John should
be liable to this censure, whose temper seemed
to be all love and sweetness, is a memorable




110          SELF-KNO\WLEDGE.
instance how difficult a thing it is for a man at
all times to know his own spirit; and that that
passion, which seems to have the least power
over his mind, may, on some occasions, insensibly gain a criminal ascendant there.
And the necessity of a perfect knowledge
of our reigning passions appears further from
hence; because they not only give a tincture
to the temper, but to the understanding also,
and throw a strong bias on the judgment. They
have much the same effect upon the eye of the
mind, as some distempers have upon the eyes
of the body; if they do not put it out, they
weaken it, or throw false colours before it, and
mnake it form a wrong judgment of things: and,
in short, are the source of those fore-mentioned
prejudices, which so often abuse the human
understanding.
Whatever the different passions themselves
that reign in the mind may be owing to;
whether to the different texture of the bodily
organs, or the different quality or motion of the
animal spirits, or to the native turn and cast of
the soul itself; yet certain it is, that men's different ways of thinking are much according to
the predominance of their different passions, and
especially with regard to religion. Thus, for example, we see melancholy people are apt to throw




:S;Ll-KN OWLEDGE 1G.i_    i 1
too much gloom upon their religion, and represent it in a very uninviting and unlovely view,
as all austerity and mortification; while they,
who are governed by the more gay and cheerful passions, are apt to run into the other extreme, and too much to mingle the pleasures of
sense with those of religion; and are as much
too lax as the other too severe. And so, by the
prejudice or bias of their respective passions,
or the force of their natural temper, are led into
the mistake on both sides.
" So that, would a mnan know himself, he
must study his natural temper, his constitutional
inclinations and favourite passions; for, by
these, a man's judgment is easily perverted, and
a wrong bias hung upon his mind: these are
the inlets of prejudice, the unguarded avenues
of the mind, by which a thousand errors and
secret faults find admission, without being observed or taken notice of."-Spectator, vol. vi)
No. 899.
And, that we may more easily come at the
knowledge of our predominant affections, let us
consider what outward events do most impress
and move us, and in what manner? What is it
that usually creates the greatest pain or pleasure in the mind? As for pain, a stoic, indeed,
may tell us, "that we must keep things at a




11;2        SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
distance; let nothing that is outward come
within us; let externals be externals still."
But the human make will scarce bear the rigour
of that philosophy. Outward things, after all,
will impress and affect us. And there is no
harm in this, provided they do not get the possession of us, overset our reason, or lead us to
act unbecoming a man or a Christian. And one
advantage we may reap from hence is, the
manner or degree in which outward things impress us, may'lead us into a more perfect knowledge of ourselves, and discover to us our weak
side, and the particular passions which have
most power over us.
Our pleasures will likewise discover our
reigning passions, and the true temper and disposition of the soul.  If it be captivated by the
pleasures of sin, it is a sign its prevailing taste
is very vicious and corrupt; if with the pleasures of sense, very low and sordid; if imaginary pleasures, and the painted scenes of fancy
and romance, do most entertain it, the soul hath
then a trifling turn; if the pleasures of science,
or intellectual improvements, are those it is most
fond of, it has then a noble and refined taste;
but, if the pleasures of religion and divine contemplation do, above all others, delight and entertain it, it has then its true and proper taste;




SELF,'-KNOWLEDGE.          i13
its temper is, as it should be, pure, divine, and
heavenly, provided these pleasures spring from
a true religious principle, free from that superstition, bigotry, and enthusiam, under which it
is often disguised.
And thus, by carefully observing what it is
that gives the mind the greatest pain'and torment, or the greatest pleasure and entertainment, we come at the knowledge of its reigning
passions, and prevailing temper and disposition.
1" Include thyself, then, 0 my soul, within
the compass of thine own heart; if it be not
large, it is deep; and thou wilt there find exercise enough.  Thou wilt never be able to sound
it; it cannot be known but by Him who tries
the thoughts and reins. But dive into this subject as deep as thou canst. Examine thyself;
and this knowledge of that which passes within
thee will be of more use to thee than the
knowledge of all that passes in the world.
Concern not thyself with the wars and quarrels
of public or private persons.  Take cognizance of those contests which are between thy
flesh and thy spirit: between the law of thy
members, and that of thy understanding. Appease those differences. Teach thy flesh to be
in subjection. Replace reason on its throne;
and give it piety for its counsellor. Tame thy
8




114          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
passions, and bring them under bondage. Put
thy little state in good order; govern wisely
and holily those numerous people which are
contained in so little a kingdom; that is to say,
that multitude of affections, thoughts, opinions,
and passions, which are in thine heart."-Juriezu's Method of Christian Devotion, part iii,
chap. 3.
CHAPTER XI.
Concerning the secret springs of our actions.
X. "ANOTHER considerable branch of selfacquaintance is, the knowledge of the true motives and secret springs of our actions."
And this sometimes cannot, without much
pains, be acquired. But, for want of it, we
shall be in danger of passing a false judgment
upon our actions, and of having a wrong opinion
of several parts of our conduct.
It is not only very possible, but very common,
for men to be ignorant of the chief inducements
of their behaviour; and to imagine they act
from one motive, while they are apparently
governed by another.  If we examine our
views, and look into our hearts narrowly, we
shall find that they more frequently deceive us




SELIF-KNOWLEDGE.         115
in this respect than we are aware of, by persuading us, that we are governed by much better motives than we are. The honour of God,
and the interest of religion, may be the open
and avowed motive, while secular interest and
secret vanity may be the hidden and true one.
While we think we are serving God, we may
be only sacrificing to mammon. We may, like
Jehu, boast our zeal for the Lord, when we are
only animated by the heat of our natural passions; may cover a censorious spirit under a
cloak of piety; and giving admonitions to others,
may be only giving vent to our spleen.
How many come to the place of public worship out of custom or curiosity, who would be
thought to come thither only out of conscience?
And while their external and professed view is
to serve God, and gain good to their souls, their
secret and inward motive is only to show themselves to advantage, or to avoid singularity, and
prevent others making observations on their
absence.  Munificence and almsgiving may
often proceed from a principle of pride and
party spirit, when it may appear to be the effect
of pure piety and charity; and seeming acts of
friendship, from a motive of selfishness.
By thus disguising our motives, we may impose upon men, but, at the same time, we inm



116          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
pose upon ourselves; and, while we are deceiving others, our own hearts deceive us. And,
of all impostures, self-deception is the most
dangerous, because least suspected.
Now, unless we examine this point narrowly,
we shall never come to the bottom of it; and
unless we come at the true spring and real
motive of our actions, we shall never be able
to form a right judgment of them; and they
may appear very different in our own eye, and
in the eye of the world, from what they do ill
the eye of God. "For the LJord seeth not as
-man seeth: for man looketh on the outward
appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart,"
1 Sam. xvi, 7. And hence it is, that "that
which is highly esteemed among men, is oftentimes abomination in the sight of God," Luke
xvi, 15. "Every way of man is right in his
own eyes; but the Lord pondereth the heart,"
Prov. xxi, 2.




SELF-KNOW\LEDGE.            117
CHAPTER XIT.
Every one that knows himself, is, in a particular manner,
sensible how far he is governed by a thirst for applause.
XI. " ANOTHER thing necessary to unfold a
man's heart to himself, is to consider what is
his appetite for fame, and by what means he
seeks to gratify that particular passion."
This passion, in particular, having always so
main a stroke, and oftentimes so unsuspected
an influence on the most important parts of our
conduct, a perfect acquaintance with it is a
very material branch of self-knowledge, and
therefore requires a distinct and particular consideration.
Emulation, like the other passions of the human mind, shows itself much more plainly, and
works much more strongly, in some, than it
does in others. It is, in itself, innocent, and
was planted in our natures for very wise ends,
and is capable of serving very excellent purposes, if kept under proper restrictions and regulations. But, without these, it degenerates
into a mean and criminal ambition.
When a man finds something within him that
pushes him on to excel in worthy deeds, or in




118          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
actions truly good and virtuous, and pursues
that design with a steady unaffected ardour,
without reserve or falsehood, it is a true sign
of a noble spirit: for that love of praise can
never be criminal that excites and enables a
man to do a great deal more good than he could
do without it. And perhaps there never was a
fine genius, or a noble spirit, that rose above
the common level, and distinguished itself by
high attainments in what was truly excellent,
but was secretly, and perhaps insensibly,
prompted by the impulse of this passion.
But, on the contrary, if a man's views centre
only in the applause of others, whether it be
deserved or not; if he pants after popularity and
fame, not regarding how he comes by them;
if his passion for praise urge him to stretch
himself beyond the line of his capacity, and to
attempt things to which he is unequal; to condescend to mean arts and low dissimulation,
for the sake of a name; and in a sinister, indirect way, sue hard for a little incense, not
caring from whom he receives it; it then degenerates into what is properly called vanity.
And if it excites a man to wicked attempts, and
makes him willing to sacrifice the esteem of
all wise and good men, to the shouts of the
giddy multitude; if his ambition overleaps the




s  ELPF-KNOW L EDGE.         19
bounds of decency and truth, and breaks through
obligations of honour and virtue; it is then not
only vanity, but vice; a vice the most destructive to the peace and happiness of human society, and which, of all others, hath made the
greatest havoc and devastation among men.
What an instance have we here of the wide
difference between common opinion and truth!
That a vice, so big with mischief and misery,
should be mistaken for a virtue! and that they,
who have been most infamous for it, should be
crowned with laurels, even by those who have
been ruined by it, and have those laurels perpetuated by the common consent of men through
after ages! Seneca's judgment of Alexander is
certainly more agreeable to truth than the common opinion; who called him " a public cutthroat, rather than a hero; and who, in seeking only to be a terror to mankind, arose to no
greater an excellence than what belonged to
the most hurtful and hateful animals on earth."'
Certain it is, that these false heroes are, of
* How different from this is the judgment of Plutarch in
this matter? who, in his oration concerning the fortune and
virtue of Alexander, exalts him into a true hero; and justifies
all the waste he made of mankind under (the same colour
with which the Spaniards excused their inhuman barbarities
toward the poor Indians, viz.) a pretence of civilizing them.
And in attributing all his success to his virtue, he talks. more




120             X1' [-t'.NOt oW1, I) G E,
all men, most ignorant of themselves, who seek
their gain  and glory front the destruction of
their own species; and, by this wicked ambition, entail infamy and cursesupon their name
and family, instead of that immortal glory they
pursued, and imagined they had attained.  According to the prophet's words, " Wo to him
who coveteth an evil covetousness to his house,
that he may set his nest on high; that he may
be delivered from  the power of evil. Thou hast
consulted shame to thine house, by cutting off
many people; and hast sinned against thy
soul."* Hab. ii, 9, 10.
Now, no man can truly know himself, till he
be acquainted with this, which is so often the
secret and unperceived spring of his actions,
like a soldier serving under him in his wars, than a historian
who lived many years afterward, whose business it was to
transmit his character impartially to future ages. And in whatever other respects Mr. lrlyden may give the preference to
Plutarch before Seneca, (which he does with much zeal in
his Preface to Plutarch's Lives,) yet it must be allowed that,
in this instance, at least, the latter shows more of the philosopher.-See Pliut. lofr., vol. i, ad sin.' O0 sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
By mountains piled on mountains, to the skies?
Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, or more a knave."
Pope's Essay on ManS




SELF-KNO WLEDGE.         121
and observes how far it governs and influences
him in his conversation and conduct.
And, to correct the irregularity and extravagance of this passion, let us but reflect how
airy and unsubstantial a pleasure the highest
gratifications of it afford; how many cruel mortifications it exposes us to, by awakening the
envy of others; to what meanness it often
makes us submit; how frequently it loseth its
end, by pursuing it with too much ardour; (for
virtue and real excellence wit1 rise to the view
of the world, though they be not mounted on the
wings of ambition, which, by soaring too high,
procures but a more fatal fall;) and how much
more solid pleasure the approbation of conscience will yield, than the acclamations of
ignorant and mistaken men, who, judging by
externals only, cannot know our true character,
and whose commendations a wise man would
rather despise than court. 1" Examine but the
size of people's sense, and the condition of-their
understanding, and you will never be fond of
popularity, nor afraid of censure; nor solicitous
what judgment they may form of you, who know
not how to judge rightly of themselves "-Marcr
Anton., lib. ix, ~ 183




122          SELF-KNO0IWLE DGE.
CHAPTER  XIII.
What kind of knowledge we are already furnished with, and
what degree of esteem we set upon it.
XII. "A MAN can never rightly know hidl4f,
unless he exa-mi-ne-i-nto-h is-lrn - oWl-dge of other
things."
We must consider, then, the knowledge we
have; and whether we do not set too high a
price upon it, and too great a value upon ourselves on the account of it; of what real use
it is to us, and what effect it hath upon us;
whether it does not make us too stiff, unsociable, and assuming; testy and supercilious, and
ready to despise others for their.supposed ignorance. If so, our knowledge, be it what it will,
does us more harm than good. We were better
without it; ignorance itself would nriot render us
so ridiculous. Such a temper, with all our
knowledge, shows that we know not ourselves.
" A man is certainly proud of that knowledge
he despises others for the want of."
How common is it for some men to be fond
of appearing to know more than they do, and
of seeming to be thought men of knowledge!
To which end, they exhaust their fund almost
in all companies, to outshine the rest; so that,




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.          123
in two or three conversations, they are drawn
dry, and you see so the bottom of them much
sooner than you could at first imagine. And
even that torrent of learning, which they pour
upon you at first so unmercifully, rather confounds than satisfies you. Their visible aim
is, not to inform your judgment, but display
their own. You have many things to query
and except against, but their loquacity gives
you no room; and their good sense, set off to
so much advantage, strikes a modest man dumb.
If you insist upon your right to examine, they
retreat either in confusion or equivocation; and,
like the scuttle-fish, throw a large quantity of
ink behind them, that you may not see where
to pursue. Whence this foible flows is obvious
enough. Self-knowledge would soon correct it.
But, as some ignorantly affect to be more
knowing than they are, so others vainly affect
to be more ignorant than they are; w/h6, to sho'W
they have greater insight and perfetration than
other men, insist upon the absolute uncertainty
of science; will dispute even first principles;
grant nothing as certain, and so run into downright Pyrrhonism; the too common effect of
abstracted debates excessively refined.
Every one is apt to set the greatest value upon
that kind of knowledge in which he imagines he




124          s   L F- IC K  0 WL E3 E.
himself most excels, and to undervalue all other
kinds of knowledge, in comparison of it. There
wants some certain rule, then, by which every
man's knowledge is to be tried, and the value of
it estimated. And let it be this: "That is the
best and most valuable kind of knowledge that is
most subservient to the best ends, that is, which
tends to make a man wiser and better, or
more agreeable and useful both to himself and
others." For knowledge is but a means that
relates to some end. And as all means are to
be judged of by the excellence of their ends,
and their expediency to produce them; so, that
must be the best knowledge that hath the directest tendency to promote the best ends, namely,
a man's own true happiness, and that of others;
in which the glory of;God, the ultimate end, is
ever necessarily comprised.
Now, if we were to judge of the several kinds
of science by this rule, we should find, 1. Some
of them to be very hurtful and pernicious; as
tending to pervert the true end of knowledge;
to ruin a man's own happiness, and make him
more injurious to society.  Such is the knowledge of vice, the various temptations to it, and
the secret ways of practising it; especially the
arts of dissimulation, fraud, and dishonesty.
2. Others will be found unprofitable and useless,




SE LTi - cNO WL EDOG E    125
as those parts of knowledge, which, though
they may take up much time and pains to
acquire, yet answer no valuable purpose; and
serve only for amusement, and the entertainment of the imagination: for instance, an acquaintance with plays, novels, games, and
modes, in which a man may be very critical
and expert, and yet not a whit the wiser or
more useful man. 3. Other kinds of knowledge
are good only relatively, or conditionally, and
may be more useful to one than another; namely,
a skill in a man's particular occupation or
calling, on which his credit, livelihood, or used
fulness in the world depends. And, as this
kind of knowledge is valuable in proportion to
its end, so it ought to be cultivated with a diligence and esteem answerable to that. Lastly.
Other kinds of knowledge are good, absolutely
and universally; namely, the knowledge of God
and ourselves, the nature of our final happiness,
and the way to it. This is equally necessary
to all. And how thankful should we be, that
we, who live under the light of the gospel, and
enjoy that light in its perfection and purity,
have so many happy means and opportunities
of attaining this most useful and necessary kind
of knowledge.
A nman can never understand himself, then,




126         SELF-KNOWLJLGE.
till he makes a right estimate of his knowledge;
till he examines what kind of knowledge he
values himself most upon, and most diligently
cultivates; how high a value he sets upon it;
what good it does him; what effect it hath upon
him; what he is the better for it; what end it
answers now; or what is like to answer hereafter.
There is nothing in which a man's self-ignorance discovers itself more, than in the esteem
he hath for his understanding, or for himself on
account of it. It is a trite and true observation,
"that empty things make the most sound."
Men of the least knowledge are most apt to
make a show of it, and to value themselves upon it; which is very visible in forward confident youth, raw conceited academics, and those
who, uneducated in youth, betake themselves
in later life to reading, without taste or judgment, only as an accomplishment, and to make
a show of scholarship; who have just learning
enough to spoil company, and render themselves
ridiculous, but not enough to make either themselves or others at all the wiser.
But, besides the fore-mentioned kinds of
knowledge, there is another, which is commonly
called false knowledge; which, though it often
imposes upon men under the show and sem



SE iE-KNOWLEDGE.          127
blance of true knowledge, is really worse than
ignorance. Some men have learned a great
many things, and have taken a great deal of
pains to learn them, and stand very high in
their own opinion on account of them, which
yet they must unlearn before they are truly
wise. They have been at a vast expense of
time, and pains, and patience, to heap together,
and to confirm themselves in a set of wrong
notions, which they lay up in their minds as a
fund of valuable knowledge; which, if they try
by the fore-mentioned rule, namely, " the tendency they have to make them wiser and better, or more useful and beneficial to others,"
will be found to be worth just nothing at all.
Beware of this false knowledge; for, as
there is nothing of which men are more obstinately tenacious, so there is nothing that renders them more vain, or more averse to selfknowledge. Of all things, men are most fond
of their wrong notions.
The apostle Paul often speaks of these men,
and their self-sufficiency, in very poignant
terms; who, "though they seem wise, yet,"
says he, " must become fools before they are
wise," 1 Cor. iii, 18: though they think they
know a great deal, "know nothing yet as they
ought to know," 1 Cor. viii, 2: but "deceive




128          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
themselves, by thinking themselves something
when they are nothing," Gal. vi, 3: and, while
they "' desire to be teachers of others, understand not what they say, nor whereof they
affirm," 1 Tim. i, 7: and "want themselves to
be taught what are the first rudiments and
principles of wisdom," Heb. v, 12.
CHAPTER XIV.
Concerning the knowledge, guard, and government of
our thoughts.
XIII. " ANOTHER part of self-knowledge
consists in a due acquaintance with our own
thoughts, and the workings of the imagination."
The right government of the thoughts requires
no small art, vigilance, and resolution; but it is
a matter of such vast importance to the peace
and improvement of the- mind, that it is worth
while to be at some pains about it. A man that
hath so numerous and turbulent a family to
govern as his own thoughts, which are so apt
to be under the influence and command of his
passions and appetites, ought not to be long
from home: if he is, they will soon grow mutinous and disorderly under the conduct of those
two headstrong guides, and raise great clamours




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           I29
and disturbances, and sometimes on the slightest occasions; and a more dreadful scene of
misery can hardly be imagined than that which
is occasioned by such a tumult and uproar
within, when a raging conscience, or inflamed
passions, are let loose without check or control.  A city in flames, or the mutiny of a
drunken crew aboard, who have murdered the
captain, and are butchering one another, are
but faint emblems of it.  The torment of the
mind, under such an insurrection and merciless
ravage of the passions, is not easy to be conceived. The most revengeful man cannot wish
his enelmy a greater.
Of what vast importance, then, is it for a man
to watch over his thoughts, in order to a right
government of them; to consider what kind of
thoughts find the easiest admission; in what
manner they insinuate themselves, and upon
what occasions?
It was an excellent rule which a wise heathen prescribed to himself in his private meditations:." Manage," saith he, "all your actions
and thoughts in such a manner, as if you were
just going out of the world." —,3arc. Anton.
Afed., lib. ii, ~ 11. Again, saith he, "A man is
seldom, if ever, unhappy for not knowing the
thoughts of others; but he that does not attend
9~




%13 5O fi ~L~SEL1F-I \OWLEDGE.
to the mlotions of his own, is certainly miserable."- falctrc. Antonz., iib. ii, ~ 8.:
It may be worth  our while, then, here to
discuss this matter a little more particularly;
and consider, 1. What kind of thoughts are to
be excluded or rejected;  and, 2. What ought
to be indulged and entertained in the heart.
1. Some thoughts ought to be immediately
banished as soon as they have found entrance;
and, if we are often troubled with  them,  the
safest way will be to keep a good guard on the
avenues of the mind by which they enter, and
avoid those occasions which  commonly excite
them.  For, sonmetimies, it is much  easier to
prevent a bad thought enitering  the mind, than
to get rid of it when it is entered.  More particularly,
(1.) Watch  against all fretful and discolntented thoughts, which do but chafe and wound
the mind to no purl'pose.   ro harbour these, is
to do yourself more injury than it is in the
*'NoChing can be more unhappy than that man who
ranges everywhere, ransacks every thing, digs into.the bow. els
of the earth, dives into other men's bosoms, but does not consider all the while that his own mind will afford him sufficient
scope *for inquiry and entertainment, and that the care and
improvement of himlself will give him business enough.
"Your disposition will be suitable to that which you most
frequently think on; for the soul is, as it were, tinged with
the colour and conmplexion of' its own thoughts,"-.llrc.  A Jnto,.




,SELF,-KN OWLEDt iJE.      1 J 1
power of your greatest enemy to do you.  It is
equally a Christian's interest and duty to " learn,
in whatever state he is, therewith to be content," Phil. iv, 11.
(2.) Harbour not too anxious and apprehensive thoughts. By giving way to tormenting
fears, suspicions of some approaching danoer
or troublesome event, some not only anticipate,
but double the evil they fear; and undergo
much more fiom the apprehension of it before
it comes, than by suffering it when it is come.
This is a great, but common, weakness, which a
man should endeavour to arm himself against, by
such kind of reflections as these: "Are not all
these events under tile certain direction of a wise
Providence?  If they befall me, they are then
that share of suffering which God hath appointed me, and which he expects I should bear as
a Christian.  How often hath my too timorous
heart magnified former trials, which I found to
be less in reality than they appeared in their
approach? And perhaps the formidable aspect
they put on is only a stratagem  of the great
enemy of my best interest, designed on purpose
to divert me fro m some point of duty, or to
draw me into some sin, to avoid them.  However, why should I torment myself to no purpose? The pain and affliction the dreaded evil




13'2' SSELF'- KNO WL EDGE.
will give me, when it comes, is of God's sending; the pain I feel in the apprehension of it,
before it comes, is of my own procuring:
whereby I often make my sufferings more than
double; for this overplus of them, which I bring
upon myself, is often greater than that measure
of them which the hand of Providence immediately brings upon me."
(3.) Dismiss, as soon as may be, all angry
and wrathful thoughts. These will but canker
and corrode the mind, and dispose it to the
worst temper in the world, namely, that of fixed
malice and revenge. "Anger may steal into
the heart of a wise man, but it rests only in the
bosom of fools," Eccles. vii, 9. Make all the
most candid allowances for the offender; consider his natural temper; turn your anger into
pity; repeat 1 Cor. xiii; think of the patience
and meekness of Christ, and the petition in the
Lord's prayer; and how much you stand in
need of forgiveness yourself, both from God
and man; how fruitless, how foolish, is indulged resentment; how tormenting to yourself.
You have too much good nature willingly to
give others so much torment; and why should
you give it yourself? You are commanded to
love your neighbour as yourself, but not forbidden to love yourself' as much. And why should




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.                133
you do yourself that injury which your enemy
would be glad to do you?* Especially,
(4.) Banish all malignant and revengeful
thoughts. A spirit of revenge is the very spirit
of the devil; than which, nothing makes a man
more like him, and nothing can be more opposite to the temper which Christianity was designed to promote. If your revenge be not
satisfied, it will give you torment now; if it be,
it will give you greater hereafter. None is a
greater self-tormentor than a malicious and revengeful man, who turns the poison of his own
temper in upon himself,
(5.) Drive from the mind all silly, trifling,
and unseasonable thoughts; which sometimes
get into it we know not how, and seize and
possess it before we are aware, and hold it in
empty idle amusements, that yield it neither
pleasure nor profit, and turn to no manner of
account in the world, only consume time, and
prevent a better employment of the mind. And,
indeed, there is little difference, whether we
* The Christian precept in this case is, " Let not the sun
go down upon your wrath," Eph. iv, 26. And this precept
Plutarch tells us the Pythagoreans practised in a literal
sense: " Who, if at anytime in a passion they broke out into
opprobrious language, before sunset gave one another their
hands, and with them a discharge from all injuries; and so
with a mutual reconciliation parted friends."




134          SELF-KiNO VWL EDGE.
spend the time in sleep, or in these waking
dreams.  Nay, if the thoughts which thus insensibly steal upon you be not altogether absurd and whimsical, yet, if they be impertinent
and unseasonable, they ought to be dismissed,
because they keep out better company.
(6.) Cast out all wild and extravagant thoughts,
all vain and fantastical imaginations.  Suffer
not your thoughts to roam  upon things that
never were, and perhaps never will be; to give
you a visionary pleasure in the prospect of
what you have not the least reason to hope, or
a needless pain in the apprehension of what
you have not the least reason to fear.  The
truth is, next to a clear conscience, and a sound
judgment, there is not a greater blessing than
a regular and well-governed imagination; to be
able to view things as they are, in their true
light and proper colours; and to distinguish
the false images that are painted on the fancy
from the representations of truth and reason.
For, how common a thing is it for men, before
they are aware, to confound reason and fancy,
truth and imagination, together? to take the
flashes of the animal spirits for the light of evidence; and think they believe tbings to be true
or false, when they only fancy them to be so,
because they would have them so? not consi



S E,rY'.- K1 N o rr, l-~ I) -  we..1.3 5
dering that. mere fancy is only the Zig'is fatuus
of the mind; which often appears brightest when
the mind is most covered with darkness, and
will be sure to lead them astray who follow  it
as their guide.  Near akin to these are,
(7.) Romantic and chimerical thoughts. By
which I mean that kind of wild-fire which the
briskness of the animal spirits sometimes suddenly flashes upon the mind, and excites images
that are so extremely ridiculous and absurd,
that one can scarce forbear wondering how
they could get admittance. These random flights
of fancy are soon gone; and so differ from that
castle-building of the imagination before-mentioned, which is a more settled amusement.
But these are too incoherent and senseless to
be of long continuance; and are the maddest
sallies, and the most ramping reveries of the
fancy that can be.  I know not whether my
reader understands now what I mean; but if
he attentively regards all that passes through
his mind, perhaps he may, hereafter, by experience.
(8.) Repel all impure and lascivious thoughts,
which taint and pollute the mind; and though
hid from men, are known to God, in whose eye
they are abominable.  Our Saviour warns us
against these, as a kind of spiritual fornication,




136         SELF-rKNOWLEDGE.
(Matt. v, 28,) and inconsistent with that purity
of heart which his gospel requires.
(9.) Take care how you too much indulge
gloomy and melancholy thoughts. Some are
disposed to see every thing in the worst light.
A black cloud hangs hovering over their minds,
which, when it falls in showers through the
eyes, is dispersed, and all within is serene
again. This is often purely mechanical; and
owing, either to some fault in the bodily constitution, or some accidental disorder in the
animal frame. However, one that consults the
peace of his own mind, will be upon his guard
against this, which so often robs him of it.
( 0.) On the other hand, let not the imagination be too sprightly and triumphant. Some are
as unreasonably exalted as others are depressed; and the same person, at different times,
often runs into both extremes, according to the
different temper and flow of the animal spirits.
And therefore the thoughts which so eagerly
crowd into the mind at such times ought to be
suspected and well guarded, otherwise they will
impose upon our judgments, and lead us to form
such a notion of ourselves, and of things, which
we shall soon see fit -to alter, when the mind is
in a more settled and sedate frame.
Before we let our thoughts judge of things,




SELF-KNOWLEDGrE.         137
we must set reason to judge our thoughts; for
they are not always in a proper condition to
execute that office.  We do not believe the
character which a man gives us of another,
unless we have a good opinion of his own; so,
neither should we believe the verdict which
the mind pronounces, till we first examine,
whether it be impartial and unbiased; whether
it be in a proper temper to judge, and have
proper lights to judge by. The want of this
previous act of self-judgment is the cause of so
much self-deception and false judgment.
Lastly, with abhorrence reject immediately
all profane and blasphemous thoughts, which
are sometimes suddenly injected into the mind,
we know not how, though we may give a
pretty good guess from whence. And all those
thoughts, which are apparently temptations and
inlducements to sin, our Lord hath, by his example, taught us to treat in this manner. Matt. iv, 10.
These, then, are the thoughts we should
carefully guard against.  And as they will
(especially some of them) be frequently insinuating themselves into the heart, remember to set
reason at the door of it to guard the passage,
and bar their entrance, or drive them out forthwith when entered; not only as impertinent,
but mischievous intruders.




138?I'E LF-KINO \WL ED GV.
But, I1. There are other kinds of thoughts
which we ought to indulge, and with great care
and diligence retain and improve.
Whatever thoughts give the mind a rational
or religious pleasure, and tend to improve the
heart and understanding, are to be favoured,
often recalled, and carefully cultivated.  Nor
should we dismiss them  till they have made
some impressions on the mind which are like
to abide there.
And to bring the mind into a habit of recovering, retaining, and improving such thoughts,
two things are necessary.
1. To habituate ourselves to a close and
rational way of thinking.  And, 2. To moral
reflections and religious contemplations.
(1). To prepare and dispose the mind for the
entertainment of good and useful thoughts, we
must take care to habituate it to a close and
rational way of thinking.
When you have started a good thought, pursue it; do not presently lose sight of it, or suffer
any trifling suggestion that may intervene to
divert you from it.  Dismiss it not till you have
sifted and exhausted it, and well considered
the several consequences and inferences that
result firom it.  However, retain not the subject
any longer than you find your thoughts run




s ELF-ICNOVWLEDG. E.       139
freely upon it; for, to confine them to it when
it is quite worn out, is to give them an unnatural
bent, without sufficient employment; which will
makie them flag, or be more apt to run off to
something else.
And, to keep the mind intent on the subject
you think of, you must be at some pains to recall
and refix your desultory and rambling thoughts.
Lay open the subject in as many lights and
views as it is capable of being represented in;
clothe your best ideas in pertinent and wellchosen words, deliberately pronounced; or
commit them to writing.
Whatever be the subject, admit of no inferences from it, but what you see plain and natural.  This is the way to furnish the mind
with true and solid knowledge, as, on the contrary, false knowledge proceeds from not understanding the subject, or drawing inferences
from it which are forced and unnatural, and
allowing to those precarious inferences, or consequences drawn from them, the same degree
of credibility as to the most rational and bestestablished principles.
Beware of a superficial, slight, or confused
view of things.  Go to the bottom of them, and
examine the foundation; and be satisfied with
none but clear and distinct, ideas (when they can




140          SE.LF(KNOWLEDGE.
be had) in every thing youil read, hear, or think
of. For, resting in imperfect and obscure ideas,
is the source of much confusion and mistake.
Accustom yourself to speak naturally, pertinently, and rationally on all subjects, and you
will soon learn to think so on the best; especially if you often converse with those persons
that speak, and those authors that write, in that
manner.
And such a regulation and right management
of your thoughts and rational powers will be of
great and general advantage to you, in the pursuit of useful knowledge, and a good guard
against the levities and frantic sallies of the
imagination. Nor will you be sensible of any
disadvantage attending it, excepting one, namely,
its making you more sensible of the weakness
and ignorance of others, who are often talking
in a random, inconsequential manner; and
whom, however, it may oftentimes be more
prudent to bear with than contradict.  But the
vast benefit this method will be of in tracing
out truth, and detecting error, and the satisfaction it will give you in the cool and regular exercises of self-employment, and in the retaining, pursuing, and improving good and useful
thoughts, will more than compensate that petty
disadvantage.




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           141
(2.) If we would have the mind furnished
and entertained with good thoughts, we must
inure it to moral and religious subjects.
It is certain the mind cannot be more nobly
or usefully employed than in such kind of contemplations: because the knowledge it thereby
acquires is, of all other, the most excellent
knowledge, and that both in regard to its object
and its end; the object of it being God, and the
end of it eternal happiness.
The great end of religion is, to'" make us
like God, and conduct us to the enjoyment of
him."  And whatever hath not this plain tendency, and especially if it have the contrary,
men may call religion, if they please; but they
cannot call it more out of its name. And whatever is called religious knowledge, if it does
not direct us in the way to this end, is not religious knowledge, but something else, falsely so
called. And some are unhappily accustomed
to such an abuse of words and understanding,
as not only to call, but to think, those things
religion, which are the very reverse of it; and
those notions religious knowledge, which lead
them the furthest from it.
The sincerity of a true religious principle
cannot be better known, than by the readiness
with which the thoughts advert to God, and the




142          S E LIF'-KNO'WLED E,
pleasure with which they are employed in devout exercises. And though a person may not
always be so well pleased with hearing religious things talked of by others, whose different
taste, sentiments, or manner of expression,
imay have something disagreeable; yet, if he
have no inclination to think of them himself, or
converse with himself about them, he hath great
reason to suspect that his 1" heart is not right
with God."  But, if he frequently and delightfully exercises his mind in divine contemplations, it will not only be a good mark of his
sincerity, but will habitually dispose it for the
reception of the best and most useful thoughts,
and fit it for the noblest entertainments.
Upon the vwhole, then, it is of as great importance for a man to take heed what thoughts
he entertains, as what company he keeps; for
they have the same effect upon the mind. Bad
thoughts are as infectious as bad company; and
good thoughts solace, instruct, and entertain the
mind, like good company. And this is one
great advantage of retirement; that a man may
choose what company he pleases, from within
himself.
As, in the world, we oftener light into bad
company than good; so, in solitude, we are oftener troubled witlh impertinent and unprofita



E, LI-KNO \V L E D.    14 E
ble thoughts, than entertained with agreeable
and useful ones.  And a man that hath so far
lost the command of himself, as to lie at the
mercy of every foolish or vexing thought, is
much in the same situation as a host, whose
house is open to all corners, whom, though ever
so noisy, rude, and troublesome, he cannot get
rid of': but with this difference, that the latter
hath some recompense for his trouble, the former none at all, but is robbed of his peace and
quiet for nothing.
Of such vast importance to the peace, as
well as the improvement of the mind, is the
right regulation of the thoughts, which will be
my apology for dwelling so long on this branch
of the subject, which I shall conclude with this
one observation more; that it is a very dangerous thing to think, as too many are apt to do,
that it is a matter of indifference what thoughts
they entertain in their hearts, since the reason
of things concurs with the testimony of the
Holy Scriptures to assure us, " that the allowed thought of foolishness is sin," Prov. xxvi, 9.




144         S ELF-KNO.'YLE DGE.
CHAPTER XV.
Concerning the memory.
XIV. "A  MAN that knows himself will
have a regard, not only to the management of
his thoughts, but the improvement of his memory."
The memory is that faculty of the soul which
was designed for the storehouse or repository
of its most useful notions; where they may be
laid up in safety, to be produced on proper
occasions.
Now, a thorough self-acquaintance cannot be
had without a proper regard to this in two respects: (1.) Its furniture. (2.) Its improvement.
(1.) A man that knows himself will have a
regard to the furniture of his memory; not to
load it with trash and lumber, a set of useless
notions, or low conceits, which he will be
ashamed to produce before persons of taste and
judgment.
If the retention be bad, do not crowd it. It
is of as ill consequence to overload a weak
memory as a weak stomach. And, that it may
not be cumbered with trash, take heed what
company you keep, what books you read, and
what thoughts you favour; otherwise a great




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           145deal of useless rubbish may fix there before you
are aware, and take up the room which ought
to be possessed by better notions.  But let not
a valuable thought slip from you, though you
pursue it with much time and pains before you
overtake it. The regaining and refixing it
may be of more avail to you than many hours,
reading.
What pity is it that men should take such
immense pains, as somne do, to learn those
things, which, as soon as they become wise,
they must take as zmuch pains to unlearn! A
thought that should make us very curious and
cautious about the proper furniture of our minds.
(2.) Self-knowledge will acquaint a man with
the extent and capacity of his memory, and the
right way to improve it.
There is no small art in improving a weak
memory, so as to turn it to as great an advantage
as many do theirs, which are much stronger. A
few short rules to this purpose may be no unprofitable digression.
1. Beware of all kinds of intemperance in
the indulgence of the appetites and passions.
Excesses of all kinds do a great injury to the
memory.
2. If it be weak, do not overload it. Charge
it only with the most useful and solid notions.
10




146          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
A small vessel should not be stuffed with lumber: but if its freight be precious, and judiciously stowed, it may be more valuable than a
ship of twice its burden.
3. Recur to the help of a common-place
book, according to Mr. Locke's method, and
review it once a year. But take care, that, by
confiding to your minutes or memorial aids, you
do not excuse tle labdur of the memory; which
is one disadvantage attending this method.
4. Take every opportunity of uttering your
best thoughts in conversation, when the subject
will admit it: that will deeply imprint them.
Hence, the tales which common story-tellers
relate, they never forget, though ever so silly.
5. Join, to the idea you would remember,
some other that is more familiar to you, which
bears some similitude to it, either in its nature
or in the sound of the word by which it is expressed; or that hath some relation to it, either
in time or place. And then by recalling this,
which is easily remembered, you will (by that
concatenation or connection of ideas, which
Mr. Locke takes notice of) draw in that which
is thus linked or joined with it; which otherwise you might hunt after in vain. This rule
is of excellent use to help you to remember
names.




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.         14 7
6. What you are determined to remember,
think of before you go to sleep at night, and
the first thing in the morning, when the faculties are fresh. And recollect, at evening, every
thing worth remembering the day past.
7. Think it not enough to furnish this storehouse of the mind with good thoughts; but lay
them up there in order, digested or ranged under proper subjects or classes; that, whatever
subject you have occasion to think or talk upon,
you may have recourse immediately to a good
thought, which you heretofore laid up there under that subject, so that the very mention of the
subject may bring the thought to hand; by
which means you will carry a regular commonplace book in your memory. And it may not
be amiss, sometimes, to take an inventory of
this mental furniture, and recollect how many
good thoughts you have there treasured up
under such particular subjects, and whence you
had them.
Lastly. Nothing helps the memory more than
often thinking, writing, or talking, on those subjects you would remember. But enough of this.




148          S'E;,LF-KNOW T0LF, DIGE.
CHAPTER  XV1.
Concerning the mental taste.
XV. "A MAN that knows himself is sensible of, and attentive to, the particular taste of
his mind, especially in matters of religion."
As the late Mr. Howe judiciously observes,
"there is, besides bare understanding and judgment, and diverse from that heavenly gift,
which, in the Scripture, is called grace, such a
thing as gust and relish belonging to the mind
of man, (and, I doubt not, with all men, if they
observe themselves,) and which are as unaccountable, and as various, as the relishes and
disgusts of sense.  This they only wonder at
who understand not themselves, or will consider nobody but themselves.  So that it cannot be said universally, that it is a better judgment, or more grace, that determines men the
one way or the other; but somewhat in the
temper of their minds distinct from  both,
which I know not how better to express than
by mental taste.  And this hath no more of
mystery in it, than that there is such a thing
belonging to our natures as complacency and
displaceney in reference to the olbjects of the




mind.  And this, in the kind of it, is as common to men as human nature; but as much
diversified in individuals as men's other inclinations are."
Now, this different taste in matters relating
to religion, (though it may be sometimes natural,
or what is born with a man, yet,) generally
arises from the difference of education and custom. And the true reason why some persons
have an inveterate disrelish to certain circumstantials of religion, though ever so justifiable,
and at the same time a fixed esteem for others
that are more exceptionable, may be no better
than what I have heard some very honestly profess, namely, that the one they have been used
to, and the other not.  As a person, by long use
and habit, acquires a greater relish for coarse
and unwholesome food, than the most delicate
diet; so a person long habituated to a set of
phrases, notions, and modes, may, by degrees,
come to have such a veneration and esteem for
them, as to despise and condemn others which
they have not been accustomed to, though perhaps more edifying and more agreeable to
Scripture and reason.
This particular taste in matters of religion
differs very much (as Mr. Howe well observes)
both from judgment and grace.




115 0        SELLF'-K NOWLL ) E.
However, it is often mistaken for both.'When it is mistaken for the former, it leads to
error; when mistaken for the latter, to censoriousness.
This different taste of mental objects is much
the same with that which, with regard to the
objects of sense, we call fancy: for, as one man
cannot be said to have a better judgment in food
than another, purely because he likes some kind
of meats better than he; so neither can he be
said to have a better judgment in matters of
religion, purely because he hath a greater fondness for some particular doctrines and forms.
But though this mental taste be not the same
as the judgment, yet it often draws the judgmnent to it, and sometimes very much perverts it.
This appears in nothing more evidently than
in the judgment people pass upon the sermons
they hear.  Some are best pleased with those
discourses that are pathetic and warming, others
with what is more solid and rational, and others
with the sublime and mystical. Nothing can
be too plain for the taste of some, or too refined
for that of others.  Some are for having the
address only to their reason and understanding,
others only to their affections and passions,
and others to their experience and conscience.
And every hearer, or reader, is apt to judge ac



SELF-KNOWLEDGE.             151
cording to his particular taste, and to esteem
him the best preacher or writer who pleases
him most; without examining, first, his own
particular taste, by which he judgeth.
It is natural, indeed, for every one to desire
to have his own taste pleased; but it is unreasonable in him to set it up as the best, and
make it a test and standard to others; but much
more unreasonable to expect, that he who
speaks in public should always speak to his
taste, which might as reasonably be expected
by another of a different taste. But it can no
more be expected, that what is delivered to a
multitude of hearers should Alike suit all their
tastes, than that a single dish, though prepared
with ever so much art and exactness, should
equally please a great variety of appetites;
among which there may be some, perhaps, very
nice and sickly.
It is the preacher's duty to adapt his subjects
to the taste of his hearers, as far as fidelity
and conscience will admit; because it is well
known, from reason and experience, as well as
from the advice and practice of the apostle Paul,*
* Rom. xv, 2:' Let every one of us please his neighbour
for his good to edification." 1 Cor. ix, 22: " To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all
things to all men, that I might by all means save some."




A 5 -s- 1,: L F-  N o W'.L,D G E -
that this is the best way to promote their
edification.  But if their taste be totally vitiated, and incline them to take in that which
will do them  more harm than good, and to relish poison more than food, the most charitable
thing the preacher can do in that case is to endeavour to correct so vicious an appetite, which
loathes that wh'ni.ch is most wholesome, and
craves that which is pernicious.  This, I say,
it is his duty to attempt in the most gentle and
prudent manner he can, though he run the risk
of having his judgment or orthodoxy called into
question by them, as it very possibly may; for,
commonly, they are the most arbitrary and unmerciful judges in this case who are the least
able to judge.
There is not, perilaps, a more unaccountable
weakness in human nature than this, that, with
regard to religious matters, our animosities are
generally greatest where our differences are
least: they who come pretty near to our standard, but stop short there, are more the object of
our disgust and censure, than they who continue at the greatest distance from it; and it
requires the greatest knowledge and command
of our temper to get over this weakness. To
whatever secret spring in the human mind it
may be owing, I shall not stay to inquire; but




SELF-i(NO UWLEDC.          153
the thing itself is too obvious not to be taken
notice of.
Now, we should, all of us, be careful to find
out and examine our proper taste of religious
things; that, if it be a false one, we may rectify
it; if a bad one, mend it; if a right and good
one, strengthen-and improve it. For the mind
is capable of a false taste, as well as the palate,
and comes by it the same way, namely, by being
long used to unnatural relishes, which, by custom, become grateful. And having found out
what it is, and examined it by the test of Scripture, reason, and conscience, if it be not very
wrong, let us indulge it, and read those books
that are most suited to it, which, for that reason, will be most edifying. But, at the same
time, let us take care of two things: 1. That it
do not bias our judgment, and draw us into
error.  2. That it do not cramp our charity,
and lead us to censoriousness.




154          SELF.'KNO WL iDG E.
CHAPTER XVII.
Of our great and governing views in life.
XVI. "ANOTHER part of self-knowledge is,
to know what are the great ends for which we
live."
We must consider what is the ultimate scope
we drive at; the general maxims and principles we live by; or whether we have not yet
determined our end, and are governed by no
fixed principles, or by such as we are ashamed
to own.
There are few that live so much at random
as not to have some main end in eye; something that influences their conduct, and is the
great object of their pursuit and hope. A man
cannot live without some leading views; a wise
man will always know what they are; whether
it is fit he should be led by them, or no;
whether they be such as his understanding and
reason approve, or only such as fancy and inclination suggest. He will be as much concerned to act with reason, as to talk with reason; as much ashamed of a solecism and
contradiction in his character, as in his convrersation.




SELF-KNO~WLEDGE.             a55
Where do our views centre? In this world
we are in, or in that we are going to? If our
hopes and joys centre here, it is a mortifying
thought, that we are every day "departing
from  our happiness;" but if they are fixed
above, it is a joy to think, that we are every
day drawing nearer to the object of our highest
wishes.
Is our main care to appear great in the eye
of man, or good in the eye of God? If the
former, we expose ourselves to the pain of a
perpetual disappointment; for it is much, if the
envy of men do not rob us of a great deal of
our just praise, or if our vanity will be content with that they allow us.  But if the latter
be our main care; if our chief view is to be
approved of God, we are laying up a fund of
the most lasting and solid satisfactions:
not to say that this is the truest way to appear great in the eye of men, and to conciliate
the esteem of all those whose praise is worth
our wish.
"' Be this, then, 0 my soul! thy wise and
steady pursuit; let this circumscribe and direct
thy views; be this a law to thee, from which
account it a sin to depart, whatever disrespect
or contempt it may expose thee to from others;
* " What you have once wisely purposed stick to, as a laywo




1i56          SELI,'-iKNO WLEDGE.
be this the character thou resolvest to live up to,
and at all times to maintain, both in public and
private, namely, a friend and lover of God; in
whose favour thou centrest all thy present and
future hopes. Carry this view with thee through
life, and dare not, in any instance, to act inconsistently with it."
CHAPTER XVIII.
How to know the true state of our souls; and whether we
are fit to die.
LASTLY. "'rhe most important point of selfknowledge, after all, is, to know the true state
of our souls toward God, and in what condition
we are to die."
These two things are inseparably connected
in their nature, and therefore I put them together.
The knowledge of the former will determine
the latter, and is the only thing than can determine it; for no man can tell whether he is fit
for death, till he is acquainted with the true
state of his own soul.
not to be violated without guilt. And mind not what others
say of you.
" Fix your character, annl keep to it; whether alone or ill
colmpany."-E'picttea,




SELF-KNOWILEDGE.           157
This, now, is a matter of such vast moment,
that it is amazing any considerate man, or any
one who thinks what it is to die, should rest
satisfied with an uncertainty in it. Let us trace
out this important point, then, with all possible
plainness, and see if we cannot come to some
satisfaction in it upon the most solid principles.
In order to know, then, whether we are fit to
die, we must first know, " what is it that fits us
for death?" And the answer to this is very natural and easy; namely, " that only fits us for
death that fits us for happiness after death."
This is certain.  But the question returns:
"What is it that fits us for happiness after
death?"
Now, in answer to this, there is a previous
question necessary to be determined, namely,
"What that happiness is?"
It is not a fool's paradise, or a Turkish dream
of sensitive gratifications; it must be a happiness suited to the nature of the soul, and what
it is capable of enjoying in a state of separation
from the body. And what can that be, but the
enjoyment of God, the best of beings, and the
author of ours?
The question, then, comes to this, " What is
that which fits us for the enjoyment of God, in
the future state of separate spirits?"




158          SE LF-KNOWLEDGE.
And, methinks, we may bring this matter to
a very sure and short issue, by saying, it is
"that which makes us like to him now." This
only is our proper qualification for the enjoyment of him after death, and therefore our,ia.
proper preparation for death.  For how c
they who are unlike to God here, expect to
enjoy him hereafter? And if they have no just
ground to hope that they shall enjoy God in the
other world, how are they fit to die?
So that the great question, " Am I fit to die?"
resolves itself into this, "Am I like to God?"
for it is this only that fits me for heaven; and
that which fits me for heaven is the only thing
that fits me for death.
Let this point, then, be well searched into,
and examined very deliberately and impartially.
Most certain it is, that God can take no real
complacency in any but those that are like him;
and it is as certain, that none but those that are
like him can take pleasure in him. But God is
a most pure and holy being; a being of infinite
love, mercy, and patience; whose righteousness is invariable, whose veracity is inviolable,
and whose wisdom unerring. These are the
moral attributes of the divine Being, in which




SELF-KNOWLEDGEf.             159
he requires us to imitate him; the express
lineaments of the divine nature, in which all
good men bear a resemblance to him, and for
the sake of which only they are the objects of
his delight: for God can love none but those that
bear this impress of his own image on their
souls. Do we find, then, these visible traces
of the divine image there? Can we make out
our likeness to him in his holiness, goodness,
mercy, righteousness, truth, and wisdom? If
so, it is certain we are capable of enjoying
him, and are the proper objects of his love.
By this we know we are fit to die, because,
by this we know we are fit for happiness after
death.
Thus, then, if we are faithful to our consciences, and impartial in the examination of
our lives and tempers, we may soon come to a
right determination of this important question,
"What is the true state of our souls toward
God, and in what condition are we to die?"*
* "Nor do I apprehend the knowledge of our state (call it
assurance, if you please) so uncommon and extraordinary a
thing as some are apt to imagine. Understand by assurance
a satisfactory evidence of the thing, such as excludes all reasonable doubts and disquieting fears of the contrary, though,
it may be, not all transient suspicions and jealousies. And




i60             SELF-KNOWLEDG E.
Which, as it is the most important, so it is
the last instance of self-knowledge I shall
mention, and  with  it close  the  first part of
this subject.
such an assurance and certainty multitudes have attained,
and enjoy the comfort of: and indeed it is of so high importance, that it is a wonder any thoughtful Christian that be
lieves an eternity can be easy one day or week without it."
Bennett's Christ. Orat., p. 569.




A TREATISE
ON
SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
PART II.
Showing the great excellence and advantages of this kind of
science.
HAVING, itl the forimer part of the subject,
laid open some of the main branches of selfknowledge, or pointed out the principal things
which a man ought to be acquainted with, relating to himself, I am now, reader, to lay before you the excellence and usefulness of this
kind of knowledge, as an inducement to labour
after it, by a detail of the several great advantages which attend it, and which shall be recounted in the following chapters.
11




16-2         SELF-KNOWLE DGE.
CHAPTER I
Self-knowledge the spring of self-possession.
"I. ONE great advantage of self-knowledge
is, that it gives a man the truest and most constant self-possession."
A man that is endowed with this excellent
knowledge is calm and easy:(1.) Under affronts and defamation.  For he
thinks thus: " I am sure I know myself better
than any man can pretend to know me.  This
calumniator hath, indeed, at this time, missed
his mark, and shot his arrows at random; and
it is my comfort, that my conscience acquits
me of his angry imputation. HEowever, there
are worse crimes which he might more justly
accuse me of, which, though hid from him, are
known to myself. Let me set about reforming
them, lest, if they come to his notice, he should
attack me in a more defenceless part, find something to fasten his obloquy, and fix a lasting
reproach on my character."'~
There is a great deal of truth and good sense
* "If you are told that another reviles you, do not go about
to vindicate yourself, but reply thus: My other faults I find
are hidden from him, else I should have heard of them too."Epictetus.




$ELF-KNOWLEDGE.                163
in that common saying and doctrine of the
Stoics, though they might carry it too far, that
"it is not things, but thoughts, that disturb and
hurt us.'"@   Now, a self-acquaintance teaches a
man the right government of the thoughts, (as
is shown above, part i, chap. 14,) it will help
him to expel all anxious, tormenting, and fruitless thoughts, and retain the most quieting and
useful ones, and so keep all easy within. Let
a man but try the experiment, and he will find
that a little resolution will make the greatest
part of the difficulty vanish.
(2.) Self-knowledge will be a good ballast to
the mind under any accidental hurry or disorder of the passions.  It curbs their impetuosity,
puts the reins into the hands of reason, quells
the rising storm, ere it make shipwreck of the
conscience, and teaches a man to "leave off
contention before it be meddled with," Prov.
xvii, 14; it being much safer to keep the lion
* "It is not things, but men's opinion of things that disturbs
them. Remember, it is not he that reviles or assaults you,
that injures you, but your thinking that he has injured you.
No man can hurt you, unless you permit him: then only are
you hurt when you think yourself so.
" Things do not touch the mind, but stand quietly without
he vexation comes from within, from our suspicions only.
i'hings themselves cannot affect the mind: for they have no
entrance into it, to turn and move it. It is the mind alone
that turns and moves itself."-Epitetvls.




164          tELF- KNUWLEi.D'UL.
chained than to encounter it in its full strength
and fury. And thus will a wise man for his
own peace deal with the passions of others, as
well as his owin.
Self-knowledge, as it acquaints a man witl
his weaknesses and worst qualities, will be his
guard against them, and a happy counterbalance
to the faults and excesses of his natural temper.
(3.) It will keep the mind sedate and calm
under the surprise of bard news, or afflicting
providences.
"For, am I not a creature of God? and my
life and my comforts, are they not wholly at his
dispose, from whom I have received them, and
by whose favour I have so long enjoyed them,
and by whose mercy and goodness I have still so
many left me?
"' A heathen can teach me, under such losses
of friends, or estate, or any comfort, to direct
my eyes to the hand of God, by whom it was
lent me, and is now recalled, that I ought not
to say, it is lost, but restored; and though I be
injuriously deprived of it, still the hand of God
is to be acknowledged; for, what is it to me by
what means he that gave me that blessing
takes it from  me again?"-Epict. Enchirid.,
cap. 15.
He that -tightly knows himself, will live




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           165
every day dependant on the divine Author of
his mercies, for the continuance and enjoyment
of them; and will learn, from a higher authority than that of a heathen moralist, that he
hath nothing that he can properly call his own,
or ought to depend upon as such; that he is
but a steward employed to dispense the good
things he possesses, according to the direction
of his Lord, at whose pleasure he holds them,
and to whom he should be ready, at any time,
cheerfully to resign them. Luke xvi, 1.
(4.) Self-knowledge will help a man to preserve an equanimity and self-possession under
all the various scenes of adversity and prosperity.
Both have their temptations. To some, the
temptations of prosperity are the greatest; to
others, those of adversity.  Self-knowledge
shows a man which of these are greatest to
him; and, at the apprehension of them, teaches
him to arm himself accordingly, that nothing
may deprive him of his constancy and self-possession, or lead him to act unbecoming the man
or the Christian.
We'commonly say," No one knows what he
can bear, till he is tried."  And many persons
verify the observation, by bearing evils much
better than they feared they should. Nay, the




166          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
apprehension  of an approaching  evil often
gives a man a greater pain than the evil itself.
This is owing to inexperience and self-ignorance.
A man that lknows himself, his own strength
and weakness, is not so subject as others to
the melancholy presages of the imagination;
and, whenever they intrude, he makes no other
use of them than to take the warning, collect
himself, and prepare for the coming evil; leaving the degree, duration, and the issue of it
with him who is the sovereign Disposer of all
events, in a quiet dependance on his power,
wisdom, and goodness.
Such self-possession is one great effect and
advantage of self-knowledge.
CHAPTER IoL
Self-knowledge leads to a wise and steady conduct.
II.  "As self-knowledge will keep a man
calm and equal in his temper, so it will make
him wise and cautious in his conduct."
A precipitant and rash conduct is ever the
effect of a confused and irregular hurry of the
thoughts.  So that, when, by the influence of




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           167
self-knowledge, the thoughts become cool, sedate, and rational, the conduct will be so too.
It will give a man that even, steady, uniform
behaviour in the management of his affairs,
that is so necessary for the despatch of business,
and prevent many disappointments and troubles,
which arise from the unsuccessful execution of
immature or ill-judged projects.
In short, most of the troubles which men
meet with in the world may be traced up to this
source, and resolved into self-ignorance. We
may complain of Providence, and complain of
men; but the fault, if we examine it, will commonly be found to be our own. Our imprudence,
which arises from self-ignorance, either brings
our troubles upon us, or increases them. Want
of temper and conduct will make any affliction
double.
What a long train of difficulties do sometimes
proceed from one wrong step in our conduct,
which self-ignorance, or inconsideration, betrayed us into! And every evil that befalls us,
in consequence of that, we are to charge upon
ourselves.




16[8         SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER III.
Humility the effect of self-knowledge.
III. " TRUE self-knowledge always produces
humility."
Pride is ever the offspring of self-ignorance.
The reason men are vain and self-sufficient is,
because they do not know their own failings;
and the reason they are not better acquainted
with them is, because they hate self-inspection.
Let a man but turn his eyes within, scrutinize
himself, and study his own heart, and he will
soon see enough to make him humble. " Behold, I am vile," (Job xl, 4,) is the language
only of self-knowledge.
Whence is it that young people are generally
so vain, self-sufficient, and assured, but because
they have taken no time or pains to cultivate a
self-acquaintance? And why does pride and
stiffness appear so often in advanced age, but
because men grow old in self-ignorance?  A
moderate degree of self-knowledge would cure
an inordinate degree of self-complacency.
Humility is not more necessary to salvation,
than self-knowledge is to humility.
And especially would it prevent that bad disposition which is too apt to steal upon and in



SELF-KNOWLEDGE.            169
fect some of the best human minds, especially
those who aim at singular and exalted degrees
of piety, namely, a religious vanity, or spiritual
pride; which, without a great deal of selfknowledge and self-attention, will gradually insinuate into the heart, taint the mind, and sophisticate our virtues, before we are aware; and,
in proportion to its prevalence, make the Christian temper degenerate into the pharisaical.
"Might I be allowed to choose my own lot,
I should think it much more eligible to want
my spiritual comforts, than to abound in these,
at the expense of my humility. No; let a
penitent and contrite spirit be always my portion; and may I ever so be the favourite of
Heaven as never to forget that I am chief of
sinners. Knowledge in the sublime and glorious mysteries of the Christian faith, and ravishing contemplations of God and a future state,
are most desirable advantages; but still I prefer
charity, which edifieth, before the highest intellectual perfections of that knowledge which
puffeth up. 1 Cor. viii, 1. Those spiritual advantages are certainly best for us which increase our modesty and awaken our caution,
and dispose us to suspect and deny ourselves.
The highest in God's esteem are meanest in
their own; and their excellence consists in the




170             SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
meekness and truth, not in the pomp and ostentation of piety, which affects to be seen and
admired of men."* —Stanhope's Thomas a Kempis, book ii, chap. 11.
* In the same work Christ is supposed to address his disciple in the following words: " My son, when thou feelest thy
soul warmed with devotion and holy zeal for my service, it
will be advisable to decline all those methods of publishing it
to the world, which vain men are so industrious to take, and
content thyself with its being known to God and thine own
conscience. Rather endeavour to moderate and suppress
those pompous expressions of it, in which some place the
very perfection of zeal. Think meanly of thy own virtues.
Some men of a bold ungoverned zeal aspire at things beyond
their strength, and express more vehemence than conduct in
their actions. They are perfectly carried out of themselves
with eagerness; forget that they are still poor insects upon
earth, and think of nothing less than building their nest in
heaven. Virtue does not consist in abundance of illumination
and knowledge; but in lowliness of mind, in meekness and
charity; in a mind entirely resigned to God, and sincerely
disposed to serve and please him.
" It is a dangerous drunkenness, I confess, that of wine;
but there is another more dangerous. HIow many persons do
I see in the world drunk with vanity, and a high opinion of
themselves! This drunkenness causes them to make a thousand: false steps and a thousand stumbles. Their ways are
all oblique and crooked. Like men in drink, they have always
a great opinion of their own wisdom, their power and their
prudence: all which often fail them. Examine well thyself,
my soul: see if thou art not tainted with this evil."




SELF-X(NOWLEDGEI.           171
CHAPTER IV.
Charity another effect of self-knowledge.
IV. "SEILF-KNOWLEDGE greatly promotes a
spirit of meekness and charity."
The more a man is acquainted with his own
failings, the more is he disposed to make allowances for those of others. The knowledge he
hath of himself will incline him to be as severe
in his animadversions on his own conduct as
he is on that of others, and as candid to their
faults as he is to his own.e
There is an uncommon beauty, force, and
propriety, in that caution which our Saviour
gives us, Matt. vii, 3-5: "And why beholdest
thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but
considerest not the beam that is in thine own
eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let
me pull out the mote out of thine eye, and behold a beam is in thine own eye? Thou
hypocrite, first cast the beam out of thine own
eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out
the mote out of thy brother's eye." In which
* "The great God seems to have given that commandment,
KNOW THYESLF, to those men more especially who are apt
to make remarks on other men's actions, and forget them,
selves."-Plzutarch.




i 72        ISELF-KiNOWLEDGE.
words these four things are plainly intimated:
1. That some are much more quick-sighted to
discern the faults and blemishes of others than
their own; can spy a mote in another's eye
s ooner than a beam in their own: and commonly it is so; they who are most quick-sighted to
the faults of others, are most blind to their own.
2.'That they are often the most forward and
officious to correct and cure the foibles of
others, who are most unfit for it. The beam in
their own eye makes them altogether unfit to
pull out the mote from their brother's. A man,
half blind himself, should never set up for an
oculist. 3. That they who are inclined to
deal in censure should always begin at home.
4. Great censoriousness is great hypocrisy.
" Thou hypocrite," &c., all this is nothing but
the effect of woful self-ignorance.
This common failing of the human nature the
heathens were very sensible of, and represented it in the following manner. Every man, say
they, carries a wallet, or two bags, with him;
the one hanging before him, the other behind
him: in that before, he puts the faults of others;
into that behind, his own; by which means,
he never sees his own failings, while he has
those of others always before his eyes.
But self-knowledge, now, helps us to turn




SELF-KN OWLEDJ1E5.         173
this wallet, and place that which hath our own
faults before our eyes, and that which hath in
it those of others behind our back.  A very
necessary regulation this, if we would behold
our own faults in the same light in which they
do; for we must not expect that others will be
as blind to our foibles as we ourselves are;
they will carry them before their eyes, whether
we do or no.  And to imagine that the world
takes no notice of them, because we do not, is
just as wise as to fancy that others do not see
us, because we shut our eyes.
CHAPTER V.
Moderation the effect of self-knowledge.
V. "ANOTHER genuine offspring of self-knowledge is moderation."
This, indeed, can hardly be conceived to be
separate from that meekness and charity before
mentioned; but I choose to give it a distinct
mention, because I consider it under a different
view and operation, namely, as that which guards
and influences our spirits in all matters of debate and controversy.
Moderation is a great aend important Chris



1 74,sELF-KNOL  EDGfL.
tian virtue, very different from that bad quality
of the mind under which it is often misrepresented and disguised, namely, lukewarmness
and indifference about the truth. The former is
very consistent with a regular and well-corrected zeal; the latter consists in the total want of
it: the former is sensible of, and endeavours,
with peace and prudence, to maintain the dignity and importance of divine doctrines; the
latter hath no manner of concern about them:'
the one feels the secret influences of them; the
other is quite a stranger to their power and efficacy: the one laments, in secret, the sad decay
of vital religion; the other is an instance of it.
In short, the one proceeds froml true knowledge,
the other from great ignorance; the one is a
good mark of sincerity, the other a certain sign
of hypocrisy. And to confound two things together which are so essentially different, can
be the effect of nothing but great ignorance, or
inconsideration, or an over-heated, injudicious
zeal.
A self-knowing man can easily distinguish
between these two.  And the knowledge which
he has of human nature in general, friom a
thorough contemplation of his own in particular, shows him  the necessity of preserving a
medium (as in every thing else, so especially)




SELF-KNOWLEDCGE.          175
between the two extremes of a bigoted zeal on
the one hand, and an indolent lukewarmness
on the other.  As he will not look upon every
thing to be worth contending for, so he will
look upon nothing worth losing his temper for
in the contention; because, though the truth be
of ever so great importance, nothing can be
of a greater disservice to it, or make a man
more incapable of defending it, than intemperate heat and passion, whereby he injures and
betrays the cause he is over anxious to maintain. "The wrath of man worketh not the
righteousness of God," James i, 20.
Self-knowledge heals our animosities, and
greatly cools our debates about matters of dark
and doubtful speculation.  One who knows
himself sets too great a value upon his time
and temper, to plunge rashly into those vain
and fruitless controversies, in which one of
them is sure to be lost, and the other in great
danger of being so, especially when a man of
bad temper and bad principles is the opponent;
who aims rather to silence his adversary
with overbearing confidence, dark unmeaning
language, authoritative airs, and hard words,
than convince him with solid argument; and
who plainly contends, not for truth, but for victory. Little good can be done to the best cause




176          SE'LF-KNOWLE DGE.
in such a circumstance. And a wise and moderate man, who knows human nature, and
knows himself, will rather give his antagonist
the pleasure of an imaginary triumph, than engage in so unequal a combat.
An eagerness and zeal for dispute on every
subject, and with every one, shows great selfsufficiency, that never-failing sign of great selfignorance. And true moderation, which consists in an indifference about little things, and
in a prudent and well-proportioned zeal about
things of importance, can proceed from nothing
but true knowledge, which has its foundation
in self-acquaintance.
CHAPTER VI.
Self-knowledge improves the judgment.
VI. "ANOTHER great advantage of being
well acquainted with ourselves is, that it helps
us to form a better judgment of other things."
Self-knowledge, indeed, does not enlarge or
increase our natural capacities, but it guides
and regulates them; leads us to the right use
and application of them; and removes a great
many things which obstruct the due exercise




SELF;-ILNSO NrE D; I..    177
of them, as pride, prejudice, and passion, &c.,
which oftentimes so miserably pervert the rational powers.
He that hath taken a just measure of himself, is thereby better able to judge of other
things.
(1.) He knows how to judge of' men and hut
man nature better. For human nature, setting
aside the difference of natural genius, and the
improvements of education  and religion, is
pretty much the same in all.'There are the
same passions and appetites, the same natural
infirmities and inclinations in all, though some
are more predominant and distinguishable in
some than they are in others. So that, if a man
be but well acquainted with his own, this, together with a very little observation on the
ways of men, will soon discover to him those
of others, and show him very impartially the
particular failings and excellences of men,
and help him to form a much truer sentiment
of them, than if he were to judge only by their
exterior, the appearance they make in the eye
of the world, (than which sometimes nothing
shows them  in a falser light,) or by popular
opinions and prejudices.
(2.) Self-knowledge will teach us to judge
rightly of facts as well as men. It will exhibit
12




17g8         S3YLI; F -l(tOW LLE D G E,
things to the mind in their proper light and true
colours, without those false glasses and appearances which fancy throws upon them, or in
which the imagination often paints them. It
will teach us to judge, not with the imagination,
but with the understanding; and will set a
guard upon the former, which so often represents things in wrong views, and gives the
mind false impressions of them.  See part i,
chapter iv.
(3.) It helps us to estimate the true value of
all worldly good things. It rectifies our notions
of them, and lessens that enormous esteem we
are apt to have for them.  For when a man
knows himself, and his true interests, he will
see how far, and in what degree, these things
are suitable to him, and subservient to his good;
and how far they are unsuitable, ensnaring, and
pernicious. This, and not the common opinion
of the world, will be his rule of judging concerning them. By this he will see quite through
theim; see what they really are at bottom, and
how far a wise man ought to desire them. The
reason why men value them so extravagantly
is, because they take a superficial view of them,
and only look upon their outside, where they
are most showy and inviting.  Were they to
look within them, consider their intrinsic worth,




SELF-KINOWLE DGE.              179
their ordinary effects, their tendency, and their
end, they would not be so apt to overvalue them.
And a man that has learned to see through himself can easily see through these.*
CHAPTER VII.
Self-knowledge directs to the proper exercise of self-denial.
VII. "A MAN that knows himself, best knows
how, and wherein, he ought to deny himself."
The great duty of self-denial, which our Saviour so expressly requires of all his followers,
(plain and necessary as it is,) has been much
mistaken and abused, and that not only by the
Church of Rome, in their doctrines of penance,
fasts, and pilgrimages, but by some Protestant
Christians, in the instances of voluntary abstinence, and unnecessary austerities; whence
they are sometimes apt to be too censorious
* "Riches, honours, powers, and the like, which owe all
their worth to our false opinion of them, are too apt to draw
the heart from virtue. We know not how to prize them;
they are not to be judged of by the common report, but by their
own nature. They have nothing to attract our esteem, but
that we are used to admire them; they are not praised because they are things that oulght to be desired, but they are
desired because they are generally praised."-Sieecra.




180          SELFI-KNOWLEDGE
against those who indulge themselves in the use
of those indifferent things, which they make it a
point of conscience to abstain from. Whereas,
would they confine their exercise of self-denial
to the plain and important points of Christian
practice, devoutly performing the necessary
duties they are most averse to, and resolutely
avoiding the known sins they are most inclined
to, under the direction of' Scripture, they would
soon become more solid, judicious, and exemplary Christians: and did they know  themselves, they would easily see, that herein there
is occasion and scope enough for self-denial,
and that to a degree of greater severity and
difficulty than there is in those little corporeal
abstinences and mortifications they enjoin themselves.
(1.) Self-knowledge will direct us to the necessary exercises of self-denial, with regard to
the duties our tempers are most averse to.
There is no one, but, at some times, finds a
great backwardness and indisposition to some
duties, which he knows to be seasonable and
necessary. This, then, is a proper occasion
for self-discipline. For, to indulge this indisposition is very dangerous, and leads to an habitual neglect of known duty; and to resist and
oppose it, and prepare for a diligent and faith



SELF4cNO0wLEDCG,:.         S 1
ful discharge of the duty, notwithstanding the
many pleas and excuses that carnal disposition
may urge for the neglect of it, this requires no
small pains and self-denial, and yet is very
necessary to the peace of conscience.
And, for our encouragement to this piece of
self-denial, we need only remember, that the
difficulty of the duty, or our unfitness for it,
will, upon the trial, be found to be much less
than we apprehended; and the pleasure of reflecting, that we have discharged our consciences, and given a fresh testimony of our
uprightness, will more than compensate the
pains and difficulty we found therein. And the
oftener these criminal propensions to the wilful
neglect of duty are opposed and overcome, the
seldomer will they return, or the weaker will
they grow, till at last, by divine grace, they will
be wholly vanquished, and, in the room of them,
will succeed an habitual "readiness to every
good work," (Titus iii, 1,) and a very sensible
delight therein; a much happier effect than
can be expected from the severest exercises of
self-denial in the instances before mentioned.
(2.) A man that knows himself, will see an
equal necessity for self-denial, in order to check
and control his inclinations to sinful actions;
to subdue the rebel within; to resist the solici



1 8^t'~'      SEi;.X 0  LE  iO;.
tations of sense and appetite; to suimmon all
his wisdom to avoid the occasions and temptations to sin, and all his strength to oppose it.
All this (especially if it be a favourite or a
constitutional inquiry) will cost a man pains and
mortification enough; for instance, the subduing a violent passion, or taming a sensual inclination, or forgiving an apparent injury and
affront. It is evident such a self-conquest can
never be attained without much self-knowledge
and self-denial.
And that self-denial that is exercised this
way, as it will be a better evidence of our sincerity, so it will be more helpful and ornamental to the interests of religion, than the greatest
zeal in those particular duties which are more
suitable to our natural tempers, or than the
greatest austerities in some particular instances
of mortification, which are not so necessary,
and perhaps not so difficult or disagreeable to
us as this.
To what amazing heights of piety may some
be thought to mount, (raised on the wings of a
flaming zeal, and distinguished by uncommon
preciseness and severity about little things,)
who all the while, perhaps, cannot govern one
passion, and appear yet ignorant of, and slaves
to, their darling iniquity!  Through an igno



SELF-KN OWLED DE.          183
rance of themselves, they misapply their zeal,
and misplace their self-denial, and, by that
means, blemish their characters with a visible
inconsistency.
CHAPTER VIII.
Self-knowledge promotes our usefulness in the world.
VIII. "'THE more we know of ourselves,
the more useful we are like to be in those stations of life in which Providence hath fixed
US."
When we know our proper talents and capacities, we know in what manner we are capable of being useful; and the consideration of
our characters and relations in life will direct
us to the proper application of those talents;
show us to what ends they were given us, and
to what purposes they ought to be cultivated
and improved.
It is a sad thing to observe, how miserably
some men debase and prostitute their capacities. Those gifts and indulgences of nature
by which they outshine many others, and by
which they are capable of doing real service
to the cause of virtue and religion, and of being




18~4         SE L,'-  LL - i;KN   Or): ( E.; i.
eminently useful to mankind, they either entirely neglect, or shamefully abuse, to the dishonour of God, and the prejudice of their felb
low-creatures, by encouraging and imboldening
thGem in the ways of vice and vanity.  For the
false glare of a profane wit will sometimes
make such strong impressions on a weak, unsettled mind, as to overbear the principles of
reason and wisdom, and give it too favourable
sentiments of what it before abhorred; whereas
the same force and sprightliness of genius
would have been very happily and usefully
employed in putting sin out of countenance,
and in rallying the follies, and exposing the
inconsistencies, of a vicious and profligate character -
When a man once knows where his strength
lies, wherein he excels, or is capable of excelling, how far his influence extends, and in what
station of life Providence hath fixed him, and
the duties of that station, he then knows what
talents he ought to cultivate, in what manner,
and to what objects they are to be particularly
directed and applied, in order to shine in that
station, and be useful in it.  This will keep
him even and steady in his pursuits and views,
consistent with himself, uniform in his conduct,
and useful to mankind; and will prevent his




S E 1 F-KNO WLiO(l.;:. K N
shooting at a wrong mark, or missing the right
mark he aims at, as thousands do for want of
this necessary branch of self-knowledge.-Seen
part i, chap. v.
CHAPTER IX.
Self-knowledge leads to a decorum and consistency of character.
IX. "A MAN that knows himself, knows how
to act with discretion and dignity in every station and character."
Almost all the ridicule we see in the world
takes its rise from self-ignorance; and to this,
mankind, by common assent, ascribe it, when
they say of a person that acts out of character,
he does not know himself. Affectation is the
spring of all ridicule, and self-ignorance the true
source of affectation.  A man that does not
know his proper character, nor what becomes
it, cannot act suitably to it. He will often affect
a character which does not belong to him; and
will either act above or beneath himself, which
will make him equally contemptible in the eyes
of them that know him.
A man of superior rank and character, that
knows himself, knows that he is but a man;




186          S ELv-KRNOIVL E., DG E.
subject to the same sicknesses, frailties, disappointments, pains, passions, and sorrows, as
other men; that true honour lies in those things
in which it is possible for the meanest peasant
to exceed him, and therefore he will not be
vainly arrogant. He knows that they are only
transitory and accidental things that set him
above the rest of mankind; that he will soon
be upon a level with them; and therefore learns
to condescend: and there is a dignity in this
condescension; it does not sink, but exalts his
reputation and character.
A man of inferior rank that knows himself,
knows how to be content, quiet, and thankful
in his lower sphere. As he has not an extravagant veneration and esteem for those external
things which raise one man's circumstances so
much above another's, so he does not look upon
himself as the worse or less valuable man for
not having them; much less does he envy
them that have them. As he has not their advantages, so neither has he their temptations;
he is in that state of life which the great Arbiter
and Disposer of all things hath allotted him,
and he is satisfied: but as a deference is owing
to external superiority, he knows how to pay a
proper respect to those that are above him,
without that abject and servile cringing which




SELt-KICNOWLEDGE.          187
discovers an inordinate esteem for their condition.  As he does not over-esteem them for
those little accidental advantages in which they
excel him, so neither does he over-value himself for those things in which he excels others.
Were hearers to know themselves, they
would not take upon them to dictate to their
preachers, or teach their ministers how to teach
them; (which, as St. Austin observes, is the
same thing as if a patient, when he sends for a
physician, should prescribe to him what he
would have him prescribe;) but if they happen
to hear something not quite agreeable to their
former sentiments, would betake themselves
more diligently to the study of their Bibles, to
know  "whether those things were so," Acts
xvii, 11.
And were ministers to know-themselves, they
would know the nature and duty of their office,
and the wants and infirmities of their hearers,
better than to domineer over their faith, or
shoot over their heads, and seek their own popularity rather than their benefit; they would
be more solicitous for their edification than
their approbation; and, like a faithful physician,
would earnestly intend and endeavour their
good, though it be in a way they may not like;
and rather risk their own characters with weak




l 8          $ELF-KN OW ILEDGE.
and captious men, than "withhold any thing
that is needful for them," or be unfaithful to
God and their own consciences.  The most
palatable food is not always the most wholesome.  Patients must not expect to be always
pleased, nor physicians to be always applauded.
CHAPTER X.
Piety the effect of self-knowledge.
X. "SELF-KNOWLEDGE tends greatly to cultivate a spirit of true piety."
Ignorance is so far from being the mother of
devotion, that nothing is more destructive of it;
and of all ignorance none is a greater bane to it
than self-ignorance. This, indeed, is very consistent with superstition, bigotry, and enthusiasm, those common counterfeits of piety, which,
by weak and credulous minds, are often mistaken for it. But true piety and real devotion
can only spring from a just knowledge of God
and ourselves; and the relation we stand in to
him, and the dependance we have upon him.
For when we consider ourselves as the creatures of God, whom he made for his honour;
and as creatures incapable of any happiness
but what results from his favour; and as en



SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           189
tirely and continually dependant upon him for
every thing we have and hope for; and while
we bear this thought in our minds, what can
induce or prompt us more to love, and to fear,
and trust him, as our God, our Father, and allsufficient Friend and Helper?
CHAPTER XI,
Self-knowledge teaches us rightly to perform the duties of
religion.
XI. " SELF-KNOWLEDGE will be a good help
and direction to us in many of our religious duties and Christian exercises." Particularly,
(1.) In the duty of prayer, both as to the
matter and the mode.  He that rightly knows
himself will be very sensible of his spiritual
wants, and he that is well acquainted with his
spiritual wants will not be at a loss what to
pray for. " Our hearts would be the best prayerbooks, if we were skilful in reading them.
Why do men pray, and call for prayers, when
they come to die, but that they begin a little
better to know themselves? And were they now
but to hear the voice of God and conscience,
they would not remain speechless.  But they
that are born deaf are always dumb. "-Baxter.




190          S ELF-KNOWLEDGE.
Again, self-knowledge will teach us to pray,
not only with fluency, but fervency; will help
us to keep the heart, as well as order our speech,
before God; and so promote the grace as well
as gift of prayer. Did we but seriously consider
what we are, and what we are about; whom
we pray to, and what we pray for; it is impossible we should be so dead, spiritless, and formal in this duty as we too often are. The very
thought would inspire us with life, and faith,
and fervour.
(2.) Self-knowledge will be very helpful to
us in the duty of thanksgiving: as it makes us
mindful of the mercies we receive; the suitableness and the seasonableness of them.  A
self-knowing man considers what he hath, as
well as what he wants; is at once sensible,
both of the value of his mercies, and his unworthiness of them: and this is what makes
him thankful. For this reason it is, that one
Christian's heart even melts with gratitude for
those very mercies which others disesteem and
depreciate, and perhaps despise, because they
have not what they think greater.  But a man
that knows himself, knows that he deserves
nothing, and therefore is thankful for every
thing.  For thankfulness as necessarily flows




SELF-KNOWLEIDGE.          191
from humility, as humility does froln self-acquaintance.
(3.) In the duties of reading and hearing the
word of God, self-knowledge is of excellent
use, to enable us to understand and apply that
which we read or hear. Did we understand
our hearts better, we should understand the
word of God better, for that speaks.to the heart.
A man that is acquainted with his heart, easily
sees how it penetrates and explores, searches
and lays open its most inward parts. He feels
what he reads; and finds that a quickening
spirit, which, to a self-ignorant man, is but a
dead letter.
Moreover, this self-acquaintance teaches a
man to apply what he reads and hears of the
word of God; he sees the pertinence, congruity,
and suitableness of it to his own case; and lays
it up faithfully in the store-room of his mind, to
be digested and improved by his after thoughts.
And it is by this art of aptly applying Scripture,
and urging the most suitable instructions and
admonitions of it home upon our consciences,
that we receive the greatest benefit by it.
(4.) Nothing is of more eminent service in
the great duty of meditation, especially in that
part of it which consists in heart converse. A.




192         SELF-KNO\OWLLEDGE.
man who is unacquainted with himself, is as
unfit to converse with his heart as he is with a
stranger he never saw, and whose taste and
temper he is altogether unacquainted with: he
knows not how to get his thoughts about him;
and when he has, he knows not how to range
and fix them, and hath no more the command
of them, than a general has of a wild, undisciplined army, that has never been exercised,
or accustomed to obedience and order. But
one, who hath made it the study of his life to
be acquainted with himself, is soon disposed to
enter into a free and familiar converse with his
own heart; and in such a self-conference iml
proves more in true wisdom, and acquires more
useful and substantial knowledge, than he could
do from the most polite and refined conversation in the world. Of such excellent use is
self-knowledge in all the duties of piety and
devotion.




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.               193
CHAPTER XII.
Self-knowledge the best preparation for death.
XII. " SELF-KNOWLEDGE will be an habitual
preparation for death, and a constant guard
against the surprise of it," because it fixes and
settles our hopes of future happiness.   That
which makes the thoughts of death so terrifying
to the soul, is its utter uncertainty what will
become of it after death.  Were this uncertainty but removed, a thousand things would reconcile us to the thoughts of dying.*'" Distrust and darkness of a future state
Is that which makes mankind to dread their fate:
Dying is nothing; but'tis this we fear,
To be we know not what, we know not where."
Now, self-knowledge, in a good degree,
removes this uncertainty: for, as the word of
God hath revealed the certainty of a future
state of happiness, which good men shall enter
upon after death, and plainly described the
requisite qualifications for it; when a good man,
* It is this makes us averse from death, that it translates
us to things we are unacquainted with, and we tremble at the
thought of those things that are unknown to us.  WVe are naturally afraid of being in the dark; and death is a leap in the'37




194           SE.LEF-KNoWL EDE.
by a long and laborious self-acquaintance, comes
distinctly to discern those qualifications in himself, his hopes of heaven soon raise him above
the fears of death; and though he may not be
able to form any clear or distinct conception of
the nature of that happiness, yet, in general, he
is assured, that it will be a most exquisite and
satisfying one, and will contain in it every thing
necessary to make it complete, because it will
come immediately from God himself.  Whereas, they who are ignorant what they are, must
necessarily be ignorant what they shall be. A
man that is all darkness within, can have but
a dark prospect forward."'
O! what would we not give for solid hope
in death! Reader. wouldst thou have it, know
God, and know thyself.
* Who exposed to others eyes
Into his own heart never pries,
Death's to him a strange surprise.




A TREATISE
ON
SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
PART III.
Showing how self-knowledge is to be attained.
FROM what hath been said under the two former parts of the subject, self-knowledge appears
to be in itself so excellent, and its effects so
extensively useful and conducive to the happiness of human kind, that nothing need further
be added by way of motive or inducement to
excite us to make it the great object of our study
and pursuit.  If we regard our present peace,
satisfaction, and usefulness, or our future and
everlasting interests, we shall certainly value
and prosecute this knowledge above all others,
as what will be most ornamental to our characters, and beneficial to our interest, in every
state of life, and abundaltly recompense all our
labour.




196          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
Were there need of any further motives to
excite us to this, I might lay open the many
dreadful effects of self-ignorance, and show how
plainly it appears to be the original spring of all
the follies and incongruities we see in the characters of men, and of most of the mortifications
and miseries they meet with here. This would
soon appear, by only mentioning the reverse of
those advantages before specified, which naturally attend self-knowledge: for what is it but
a want of self-knowledge and self-government
that makes us so unsettled and volatile in our
dispositions? so subject to transport and excess
of passions in the varying scenes of life? so
rash and unguarded in our conduct? so vain and
self-sufficient? so censorious and malignant?
so eager and confident? so little useful in the
world to what we might be? so inconsistent
with ourselves? so mistaken in our notions of
true religionS so generally indisposed to, or
unengaged in, the holy exercises of it? and,
finally, so unfit for death, and so afraid of dying?
I say, to what is all this owing, but self-ignorance? the first and fruitful source of all this
long train of evils.  And, indeed, there is
scarce any but what may be traced up to it. In
short, it brutifies man to be ignorant of himself.
" Man that is in honour, and understandeth not,




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.              197
(himself especially,) is as the beasts that perish," Psalm xlix, 20.
" Come home, then, 0 my wandering, selfneglecting soul! lose not thyself in a wilderness or tumult of impertinent, vain, distracting
things.  Thy work is nearer thee: the country
thou shouldst first survey and travel is within
thee; from which thou must pass to that above
thee; when, by losing thyself in this without
thee, thou wilt find thyself, before thou art
aware, in that below thee. Let the eyes of
fools be in the corners of the earth; leave it to
men beside themselves to live as without themselves; do thou keep at home, and mind thine
own business; survey thyself, thine own make
and nature, and thou wilt find full employ for
all thy most active thoughts. But, dost thou
delight in the mysteries of nature? consider
well the mystery of thy own. The compendium of all thou studiest is near thee, even
within thee; thyself being the epitome of the
world.* If either necessity or duty, nature or
grace, reason or faith, internal inducements,
external impulses, or eternal motives, might
* Who can sufficiently admire the noble nature of that creature man, who hath in him the mortal and the immortal, the
rational and the irrational natures united, and so carries about
with him the image of the whole creation? whence he is called microcosm, or the little world.




198           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
determine the subject of thy study and c,
plation, thou wouldst call home thy distracted
thoughts, and employ them more on thyself and
thy God."-BBaxter's Mischief of Self-ignorance.
Now, then, let us resolve, that henceforth the
study of ourselves shall be the business of our
lives; that, by the blessing of God, we may arrive at such a degree of self-knowledge as may
secure to us the excellent benefits before mentioned: to which end we would do well to
attend diligently to the rules laid down in the
following chapters.
CHAPTER I.
Self-examination necessary to self-knowledge.
I. "'rrHE first thing necessary to self-knowledge is self-inspection."
We must often look into our hearts, if we
would know them. They are very deceitful;
more so than any man can think, till he has
searched, and tried, and watched them. We
may meet with frauds and faithless dealings
from men; but, after all, our own hearts are
the greatest cheats, and there are none we are
in greater danger from than ourselves.  We




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.               199
must first suspect ourselves, then examine ourselves, then watch ourselves, if we expect ever
to know ourselves.  How is it possible there
should be any self-acquaintance without selfconverse?
Were a man to accustom  himself to such
self-employment, he need not live "till thirty,
before he suspects himself a fool, or till forty,
before he knows it."* —Night Thoughts, part i.
Men could never be so bad as they are if
they did but take a proper care and scope in
this business of self-examination; if they did
but look backward to what they were, inward
to what they are, and forward to what they
shall be.
And as this is the first and most necessary
step to self-acquaintance, it may not be amiss
to be a little more particular in it.  Therefore,
(1.) This business of self-scrutiny must be
performed with great care and diligence, otherwise our hearts will deceive us even while we
are examining them. " When we set ourselves' "At thirty man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same."
Night Thoughts.




200          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
to think, some trifle or other presently interrupts and draws us off from any profitable recollection. Nay, we ourselves fly out, and are
glad to be diverted from a severe examination
into our own state; which is sure, if diligently
pursued, to present us with objects of shame
and sorrow, which will wound our sight, and
soon make us weary of this necessary work."Stanhope's Thomas'a Kempis, p. 166.
Do not let us flatter ourselves, then, that this
is a mighty easy business: much pains and
care are necessary sometimes to keep the mind
intent, and more to keep it impartial; and the
difficulty of it is the reason that so many are
averse to it, and care not to descend into themselves.
Reader, try the experiment; retire now into
thyself, and see if thou canst not strike out some
light within, by closely urging such questions
as these:-" What am I? for what was I made?
and to what ends have I been preserved so
long by the favour of my Maker? Do I remember, or forget those ends? Have I answered, or perverted them?  What have I been
doing since I came into the world?  What is
the world or myself the better for my living so
many years in it? What is my allowed course
of actions? Am I sure it will bear the future




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.          201
test? Am I now in that state I shall wish to
die in? And, O my soul, think, and think again,
what it is to die! Do not put that most awful
event far from thee; nor pass it by with a superficial thought. Canst thou be too well fortified against the terrors of that day? and art
thou sure that the props which support thee
now will not fail thee then? What hopes hast
thou for eternity? Hast thou, indeed, that holy,
godlike temper, which alone can fit thee for the
enjoyment of God?  Which world art thou
most concerned for? What things do most
deeply affect thee? 0 my soul, remember thy
dignity; think how soon the scene will shift.
Why shouldest thou forget thou art immortal?"
(2.) This self-excitation and scrutiny must
be very frequently made. They who have a
great deal of important business on their hands
should be often looking over their accounts, and
frequently adjustiny them, lest they should be
going backward, and not know it; and custom
will soon take off the difficulty of this duty, and
turn it into delight.
In our morning retreat, it will be proper to
remember that we cannot preserve throughout
the day that'calm and even temper we may then
be in; that we shall very probably meet with
some things to ruffle us, some attack on our




202(3        SELF-KNOXWLEDGE.
weak side. Place a guard there now. Or, however, if no incidents happen to discompose us,
our tempers -will vary; our thoughts will flow
pretty much with our blood; and the dispositions of the mind be a good deal governed by
the motions of the animal spirits; our souls will
be serene or cloudy, our tempers volatile or
phlegmatic, and our inclinations sober or irregular, according to the briskness or sluggishness of the circulation of the animal fluids,
whatever may be the cause or immediate occasion of that, and therefore we must resolve to
avoid all occasions that may raise any dangerous ferments there, which, when once raised,
will excite in us very different thoughts and
dispositions from those we now have; which,
together with the force of a fair opportunity and
urgent temptation, may overset our reason and
resolution, and betray us into those sinful indulgences which will wound the conscience,
stain the soul, and create bitter remorse in our
cooler reflections. Pious thoughts and purposes,
in the morning, will set a guard upon the soul,
and fortify it under all the temptations of the day.
But such self-inspection, however, should
never fail to make part of our evening devotions,
when we should review and examine the several actions of the day, the various tempers and




SE LF-KNOWLEDGE.              203
dispositions we have been in, and the occasions that excited them. It is an advice worthy
of a Christian, though it first dropped from a
heathen pen, that, before we betake ourselves
to rest, we review and examine all the passages
of the day, that we may have the comfort of
what we have done aright, and may redress
what we find to have been amiss; and make
the shipwrecks of one day be as marks to direct our course on another; a practice that hath
been recommended by many of the heathen
moralists of the greatest name, as Plutarch,
Epictetus, Marcus Antoninus; and particularly Pythagoras, in the verses that go under his
name, and are called his golden verses;*
wherein he advises his scholars every night to
recollect the passages of the day, and ask themselves these questions: "Wherein have I trans* " Let not the stealing god of sleep surprise
Nor creep in slumbers on thy weary eyes,
Ere ev'ry action of the former day
Strictly thou dost, and righteously survey.
With rev'rence at thy own tribunal stand,
And answer justly to thy own demand.
Where have I been? In what have I transgress'd?
What good or ill has this day's life express'd?
Where have I fail'd in what I ought to do?
In what to God, to man, or to myself, I owe?
Inquire severe whate'er from first to last,
From morning's dawn'till evening's gloom has past,




204           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
gressed this day? what have I done? what
duty have I omitted?" &c.  Seneca recommends the same practice.  "Sectius," saith
he, " did this: at the close of the day, before
he betook himself to rest, he addressed his soul
in the following manner,-What evil of thine
hast thou cured this day? what vice withstood?
in what respect art thou better? Passion will
cease, or become more cool, when it knows it
is every day to be thus called to account.
What can be more advantageous than this constant custom of searching through the day?And the same course," saith Seneca, "I take
myself; and every day sit in judgment on myself. And at even, when all is hush and still,
I make a scrutiny into the day; look over my
words and actions, and hide nothing from myself; conceal none of my mistakes through
fear. For why should I, when I have it in my
power to say thus?-This once I forgive thee,
but see thou do so no more. In such a dispute I was too keen: do not, for the future,
contend with ignorant men; they will not be
If evil were thy deeds, repenting mourn,
And let thy soul with strong remorse be torn.
If good, the good with peace of mind repay,  )
And to thy secret self with pleasure say,
Rejoice, my heart, for all went well to-day."




SELF-IKNOWLEDGE4          205
convinced, because they are unwilling to show
their ignorance. Such a one I reproved with too
much freedom, whereby I have not reformed,
but exasperated him: remember hereafter to be
more mild in your censures; and consider not
only whether what you say be true, but whether
the person you say it to can bear to hear the
truth."-Seneca, de Ira., lib. iii, cap. 36. Thus
far that excellent moralist.
Let us take a few other specimens of a more
pious and Christian turn, from a judicious and
devout writer.
"This morning when I arose, instead of applying myself to God in prayer, (which I generally find it best to do immediately after a few
serious reflections,) I gave way to idle musing,
to the great disorder of my heart and frame.
How often have I suffered for want of more
watchfulness:on this occasion! When shall I
be wise? I have this day shamefully trifled
almost through the whole of it; was in my bed
when I should have been upon my knees; prayed but coolly in the morning; was strangely
off my guard in the business and conversation
I was concerned with in the day, particularly
at -; I indulged to very foolish, sinful, vile
thoughts, &c. I fell in with a strain of conversation too common among all sorts, namely, speak



206          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
ing evil of others; taking up a reproach against
my neighbour.  I have often resolved against
this sin, and yet run into it again. How treacherous this wicked heart of mine! I have lost
several hours this day in mere sauntering and
idleness.  This day I had an instance of mine
own infirmity, that I was a little surprised at,
and I am sure I ought to be humbled for. The
behaviour of —, from whom I can expect
nothing but humour, indiscretion, and folly,
strangely ruffled me; and that after I have had
warning over and over again. What a poor,
impotent, contemptible creature am I! This
day I have been kept, in a great measure, from
my too frequent failings. I had this day very
comfortable assistances from God, upon an occasion not a littly trying-what shall I render?"
-Bennet's Christ. Orat.
(3.) See that the mind be in the most composed and disengaged frame it can, when you
enter upon this business of self-judgment.
Choose a time when it is most free from passion, and most at leisure from the cares and
affairs of life. A judge is not like to bring a
cause to a good issue, that is either intoxicated
with liquor on the bench, or has his mind distracted with other cares, when he should be intent on the trial. Remember you sit in judg



sEL;F-KoINWLED E.         207
merit upon yourself, and have nothing to do at
present but to sift the evidence which conscience may bring in either for or against you,
in order to pronounce a just sentence, which is
of much greater concernment to you at present
than any thing else can be; and therefore it
should be transacted with the utmost care, composure, and attention.
(4.) Beware of partiality, and the influence
of self-love, in this weighty business; which,
if you do not guard against it, will soon lead
you into self-delusion, the consequences of
which may be fatal to you. Labour to see yourself as you are; and view things in the light in
which they are, and not in that in which you
would have them be. Remember, that the mind
is always apt to believe those things true, which
it would have be so; and backward to believe
those things true, which it wishes were not so;
and this is an influence you will certainly lie
under in this affair of self-judgment.
You need not be much afraid of being too
severe upon yourself; your great danger will
generally be, passing a too favourable judgment.
A judge ought not, indeed, to be a party concerned, and should have no interest in the person he sits in judgment upon. But this cannot
be the case here, as you yourself are both judge




208         SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
and criminal, which shows the danger of pronouncing a too favourable sentence. But remember your business is only with the evidence
and the rule of judgment; and that, however
you come off now, there will be a rehearing in
another court, where judgment will be according to truth.
" However, look not unequally, either at the
good or evil that is in you, but view them as
they are. If you observe only the good that is
in you, and overlook the bad, or search only
after your faults, and overlook your graces,
neither of these will bring you to a true acquaintance with yourself."-Baxter's Director.
And to induce you to this impartiality, remember that this business (though it may be
hid from the world) is not done in secret. God
sees how you manage it, before whose tribunal
you must expect a righteous judgment. "We
should order our thoughts so," saith Seneca,
"as if we had a window in our breasts, through
which any one might see what passes there.
And indeed there is one that does; for what
does it signify that our thoughts are hid from
men?  From  God nothing is hid."-Seneca's
Epist. 84.
(5.) Beware of false rules of judgment. This
is a sure and common way to self-deception.




s  L F  -IN O W LE  L)w.  20 9
For example: Some judge themselves by what
they have been. But it does not follow, if men
are not so bad as they have been, that therefore
they are as good as they should be. It is wrong
to make our past conduct implicitly the measure
of our present; or our present the rule of our
future; when our past, present, and future conduct must all be brought to another rule.  And
they who thus " measure themselves by themselves, and compare themselves with themselves, are not wise," 2 Cor. x, 12. Again,
others are apt to judge of themselves by the
opinions of men, which is the most uncertain
rule that can be; for in that very opinion of
theirs you may be deceived. How do you
know they have really so good an opinion of
you as they profess? but if they have, have not
others as bad? and why should not the opinion
of these be your rule as well as the opinion of
those? Appeal to self-flattery for an answer.
However, neither one nor the other of them,
perhaps, appear to know themselves, and how
should they know you? How is it possible they
should have opportunities of knowing you better than you know yourself? A man can never
gain a right knowledge of himself from the
opinion of others, which is so various, and
generally so ill-founded; for men commonly
14




210          8ELbF-ICNOWLEDGE,
judge by outward appearances, or inward prejudice, and therefore, for the most part, think
and speak of us very much at random. Again,
others are for judging of themselves by the
conduct of their superiors, who have opportunities and advantages of knowing, acting, and
being better; and yet, without vanity be it
spoken, say they, we are not behindhand with
them. But what then? Neither they nor you,
perhaps, are what the obligations of your character indispensably require you to be, and what
you must be, ere you can be happy. But consider how easily this argument may be turned
upon you: you are better than some, you say,
who have greater opportunities and advantages
of being good than you have, and therefore your
state is safe; but you yourself have greater
opportunities and advantages of being good than
some others have, who are, nevertheless, better
than you; and therefore, by the same rule, your
state cannot be safe. Again, others judge of
themselves by the common maxims of the vulgar
world concerning honour and honesty, virtue
and interest, which maxims, though generally
very corrupt, and very contrary to those of
reason, conscience, and Scripture, men will
follow as a rule, for the sake of the latitude it
allows them; and fondly think, that, if they




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.          211
stand right in the opinion of the lowest kind of
men, they have no reason to be severe upon
themselves. Others,whose sentiments are more
delicate and refined, they imagine, may be mistaken, or may overstrain the matter. In which
persuasion they are confirmed, by observing
how seldom the consciences of the generality
of men smite them for those things which these
nice judges condemn as heinous crimes. I need
not say how false and pernicious a rule this
is. Again, others may judge of themselves and
their state by sudden impressions they have
had, or strong impulses upon their spirits, which
they attribute to the finger of God; and by
which they have been so exceedingly affected,
as to make no doubt but that it was the instant
of their conversion: but whether it was or not,
can never be known but by the conduct of their
after lives. In like manner, others judge of
their good state by their good frames, though
very rare it may be, and very transient, soon
passing off "like a morning cloud, or as the
early dew."  "But we should not judge of
ourselves by that which is unusual or extraordinary with us, but by the ordinary tenor and
drift of our lives. A bad man may seem good
in some good mood, and a good man may seem
bad in some extraordinary falls. To judge of




212          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
a bad man by his best hours, and a good man
by his worst, is the way to be deceived in them
both."-Baxter's Director.
And the same way may you be deceived in
yourself. Pharaoh, Ahab, Herod, and Felix,
had all of them their softenings, their transitory
fits of goodness  but yet they remain upon record under the blackest characters.
These, then, are all the wrong rules of judgment; and to trust to them, or try ourselves by
them, leads to fatal self-deception.  Again,
(6.) In the business of self-examination, you
must not only take care you do not judge by
wrong rules, but that you do not judge wrong by
right rules. You must endeavour, then, to be
well acquainted with them. The office of a judge
is not only to collect the evidence and the
circumstances of facts, but to be well skilled
in the laws by which those facts are to be
examined.
Now, the only right rules by which we are
to examine, in order to know ourselves, are
reason and Scripture.  Some are for setting
aside these rules, as too severe for them, too
stiff to bend to their perverseness, too straight
-to measure their crooked ways; are against
reason, when reason is against them; decrying
it as carnal reason; and, for the same cause,




SE LF-KNO W LE DGE.        213
are against Scripture too, depreciating it as a
dead letter. And thus, rather than be convinced they are wrong, they despise the only
means that can set them right.
And as some are for setting aside each part
of their rules, so others are for setting them one
against the other; reason against Scripture, and
Scripture against reason; when they are both
given us by the God of our natures, not only as
perfectly consistent, but as proper to explain
and illustrate each other, and prevent our mistakino- either; and to be, when taken together,
(as they always should,) the most complete and
only rule by which to judge both of ourselves,
and every thing belonging to our salvation, as
reasonable and fallen creatures.
(1.) Then, one part of that rule, which God
hath given us to judge of ourselves by, is right
reason: by which I do not mean the reasoning
of any particular man, which may be very different from the reasoning of another particular
man, and both, it may be, very different from
right reason; because both may be influenced,
not so much by the reason and nature of things,
as by partial prepossessions and the power of
passions: but, by right reason I mean those
common principles which are readily allowed
by all who are capable of understanding them,




214           SEL1F-KNOMWLE D('E.
and not notoriously perverted by the power of
prejudice, and which are confirmed by the common consent of all the sober and thinking part
of mankind, and may be easily learned by the
light of nature.  Therefore, if any doctrine or
practice, though supposed to be founded in, or
countenanced by, revelation, be nevertheless
apparently repugnant to these dictates of right
reason, or evidently contradict our natural notions of the divine attributes, or weaken our
obligations to universal virtue, that, we may be
sure, is no part of revelation, because then one
part of our rule would clash with, and be opposite to, the other. And thus reason was designed to be our guard against a wild and extraragant construction of Scripture.
(2.) The other part of our rule is the sacred
Scriptures, which we are to use as our guard
against the licentious excursions of fancy,
which is often imposing itself upon us for
right reason. Let any religious scheme or notion, then, appear ever so pleasing or plausible,
if it be not established on the plain principles
of Scripture, it is forthwith to be discarded;
and that sense of Scripture that is violently
forced to bend toward it, is very much to be
suspected.
It must be very surprising to one who reads




El'-L'KNO WLEDGE.         215
and studies the sacred Scriptures with a free
unbiased mind, to see what elaborate, fine-spun,
and flimsy glosses men will invent and put upon some texts as the true and genuine sense
of them, for no other reason, but because it is
most agreeable to the opinion of their party,
from which, as the standard of their orthodoxy,
they durst never depart; who, if they were to
write a critique, in the same manner, on any
Greek or Latin author, would make themselves
extremely ridiculous in the eyes of the learned
world. But, if we would not pervert our rule,
we must learn to think as Scripture speaks, and
not compel that to speak as we think.  Would
we know ourselves, then, we must often view
ourselves in the glass of God's word; and
when we have taken a full survey of ourselves
from thence, let us not soon forget " what manner of persons we are," James i, 23, 24. If
our own image do not please us, let us not.
quarrel with our mirror, but set about mending
ourselves.
The eye of the mind, indeed, is not like that
of the body, which can see every thing else
but itself; for the eye of the mind can turn itself inward, and survey itself.  However, it
must be owned, it can see itself much better
when its own image is reflected upon it from




21i6         S ELFI'.-KN OW ltD GE._
this mirror.  And it is by this only that we can
come at the bottom of our hearts, and discover
those secret prejudices and carnal prepossessions which self-love would hide from us.
This, then, is the first thing we must do in
order to self-knowledge. We must examine,
scrutinize, and judge ourselves diligently, leisurely, frequently, and impartially; and that not
by the false maxims of the world, but by the
rules which God hath given us, reason and
Scripture; and take care to understand those
rules, and not set them at variance. The next
important step to self-knowledge is the subject
of the following chapter.
(CHAPTER II.
Constant watchfulness necessary to self-knowledge.
II. "WOULD we know ourselves, we must
be very watchful over our hearts and lives."
(1.) We must keep a vigilant eye upon our
hearts, that is, our tempers, inclinations, and
passions. A more necessary piece of advice
we cannot practise, in order to self-acquaintance, than that which Solonmon gives us, Prov.
iv, 23, ", Keep your heart with all diligence," or,




SELF-KNOWL EDGE.            217
as it is in the original, "above all keeping."
As if it were said, Whatever you neglect or
overlook, be sure you mind your heart.*  Narrowly observe all its inclinations and aversions,
all its motions and affections, together with the
several objects and occasions which excite
them. And this precept is enforced with two
very urgent reasons in Scripture. The first is,
because " out of it are the issues of life." That
is, as our heart is, so will the tenor of our life
and conduct be.  As is the fountain, so are the
streams; as is the root, so is the fruit. Matt.
vii, 18.  And the other is, because "it is deceitful above all things," Jer. xvii, 9. And,
therefore, without a constant guard upon it, we
shall insensibly run into many hurtful self-deceptions. To which I may add, that, without
this careful keeping of the heart, we shall never
be able to acquire any considerable degree of
self-acquaintance or self-government.
(2.) To know ourselves, we must watch our
life and conduct, as well as our hearts: and,
by this, the heart will be better known; as the
root is best known by the fruit.  We must attend to the nature and consequences of every
action we are disposed or solicited to, before
* Parallel to this advice of the royal preacher is that of M.
Aurelius: "Look within; for within is the fountain of good."




4 18        SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
we comply; and consider how it will appear in
an impartial review. We are apt enough to
observe and watch the conduct of others; a
wise man will be as critical and as severe upon
his own: for indeed we have a great deal more
to do with our own conduct than other men's;
as we are to answer for our own, but not for
theirs. By observing the conduct of other men,
we know them; by carefully observing our own,
we must know ourselves.
CHAPTER III.
We should have some regard to the opinions of others con.
cerning us, particularly of our enemies.
III. " WOULD we know ourselves, we should
not altogether neglect the opinion which others
have of us, or the things they may say of us."
Not that we need be very solicitous about
the censure or applause of the world, which is
generally very rash and wrong, according to the
particular humours and prepossessions of men;
and a man that knows himself will soon know
how to despise them both.  "The judgment
which the world makes of us, is generally of
no manner of use to us; it adds nothing to our
souls or bodies, nor lessens any of our miseries.




SELF-KNOWLEDOE.          219
Let us constantly follow reason," says Montaigne, "and let the public approbation follow us
the same way if it pleases."
But still, I say, a total indifference in this
matter is unwise.  We ought not to be entirely
insensible to the reports of others; no, not to
the railings of an enemy; for an enemy may
say something out of ill-will to us, which it
may concern us to thinlk of coolly when we are
by ourselves; to examine whether the accusation be just, and what there is in our conduct
and- temper which may make it appear so.
And by this means our enemy may do us more
good than he intended, and be an occasion of
discovering something of our hearts to us, which
we did not know before. A man that hath no
enemies, ought to have very faithful friends; and
one who hath no such friends, ought to think
it no calamity that he hath enemies to be his
effectual monitors. " Our friends," says Mr.
Addison, " very often flatter us as much as our
own hearts. They either do not see our faults,
or conceal them from us; or soften them by
their representations, after such a manner, that
we think them too trivial to be taken notice of.
An adversary, on the contrary, makes a stricter
search into us, discovers every flaw and imperfection in our tempers; and, though his malice




220          SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
may set them in too strong a light, it has generally some ground for what it advances. A
friend exaggerates a man's virtues; an enemy
inflames his crimes. A wise man should give
a just attention to both of them, so far as it may
tend to the improvement of the one, and the
diminution of the other. Plutarch has written
an essay on the benefits which a man may receive from his enemies; and among the good
fruits of enmity, mentions this in particular,
that, by the reproaches it casts upon us, we see
the worst side of ourselves, and open our eyes
to several blemishes and defects in our lives
and conversations, which we should not have
observed without the help of such ill-natured
monitors.
" In order, likewise, to come at a true knowledge of ourselves, we should consider, on the
other hand, how far we may deserve the praises
and approbation which the world bestow upon
us; whether the actions they celebrate proceed
from laudable and worthy motives, and how far
we are really possessed of the virtues which
gain us applause among those with whom we
converse.  Such a reflection is absolutely necessary, if we consider how apt we are either
to value or condemn ourselves by the opinions
of others, and to sacrifice the report of our




SElLF-KNOWLEDG E.                221
own hearts to the judgment-of the world."* —
Spectator, vol. vi, No. 399.
- In that treatise of Plutarch, here referred to, there are a
great many excellent things pertinent to this subject; and
therefore I thought it not improper to throw a few extracts out
of it into the margin.
" The foolish and inconsiderate spoil the very friendships
they are engaged in; but the wise and prudent make good use
of the hatred and enmity of men against them.
" Why should we not take an enemy for our tutor, who will
instruct us gratis in those things we knew not before? For
an enemy sees and understands more in matters relating to
us than our friends do. Because love is blind; but spite, malice, ill-will, wrath, and contempt talk muLch, are very inquisitive and quick-sighted.
"Our enemy, to gratify his ill-will toward us, acquaints
himself with the infirmities both of our bodies and minds;
sticks to our faults, and makes his invidious remarlks upon
them, and spreads them abroad by his uncharitable and ill-natured reports. Hence we are taught this useful lesson for the
direction and management of our conversation in the world,
namely, that we be circumspect and wary in every thing we
speak or do, as if our enemy always stood at our elbow, and
overlooked our actions.
I Those persons whom that wisdom hath brought to live soberly, which the fear and awe of enemies hath infused, are by
degrees drawn into a habit of living so, and are composed and
fixed in their obedience to virtue by custom and use.
" When Diogenes was asked how he might be avenged of
his enemies, he replied, To be yourself a good and honest man.
"Antisthenes spake incomparably well;'that if a man
would live a safe and unblameable life, it was necessary that
he should have very ingenuous and faithful friends, or very
bad enemies; because the first by their kind admonitions
would keep him from sinning, the latter by their invectives.'




222             SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
It is the character of a very dissolute mind,
to be entirely insensible to all that the world
says of us; and shows such a confidence of
"He that hath no friend to give him advice or reprove him
when he does amiss, must bear patiently the rebukes of his
enemies, and thereby learn to mend the errors of his ways;
and consider seriously the object which these severe censures
aim at, and not what he is who makes them. For he who
designed the death of Promotheus the Thessalian, instead of
giving him a fatal blow, only opened a swelling which he had,
which did really save his life. Just so may the harsh reprehensions of enemies cure some distempers of the mind, which
were before either not known or neglected; though their angry
speeches do originally proceed from malice or ill-will.
" If any man with opprobrious language objects to you crimes
you know nothing of, you ought to inquire into the causes or
reasons of such false accusations; whereby you may learn to
take heed for the future, lest you should unwarily commit
those offences which are unjustly imputed to you.
"Whenever any thing is spoken against you that is not
true, do not pass it by, nor despise it because it is false; but
forthwith examine yourself, and consider what you have said
or done that may administer a just occasion of reproof.
" Nothing can be a greater instance of wisdom and humanity, than for a man to bear silently and quietly the follies and
revilings of an enemy; taking as much care not to provoke
him, as he would to sail safely by a dangerous rock.
" It is an eminent piece of humanity, and a manifest token
of a nature generally generous, to put up with the affionts of
an enemy at a time when you have a fair opportunity to revenge them.
"Let us carefully observe those good qualities wherein
our enemies excel us; and endeavour to excel them, by
avoiding what is faulty, ar' imitating what is excellent in
them."




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           223
self-knowledge, as is usually a sure sign of selfignorance. The most knowing minds are ever
least presumptuous. And true self-knowledge is
a science of so much depth and difficulty, that a
wise man would not choose to be over confident
that all his notions of himself are right, in opposition to the judgment of all mankind; some of
whom, perhaps, have better opportunities and
advantages of knowing him (at some seasons
especially) than he has of knowing himself;
because they never look through the same false
medium of self-flattery.
CHAPTER IV.
Frequent converse with superiors a help to self-knowledge.
IV. "' ANOTHER proper means of self-knowledge is to converse as much as you can with
those who are your superiors in real excellence."
" He that walketh with wise men, shall be
wise," Prov. xiii, 20. Their example will not
only be your motive to laudable pursuits, but a
mirror to your mind, by which you may possibly discern some failings, or deficiencies, or
neglects, in yourself, which before escaped you.




224         8 ELLF-KNOWLEDG E,.
You will see the unreasonableness of your
-vanity and self-sufficiency, when you observe
how much you are surpassed by others in
knowledge and goodness. Their proficiency
will make your defects the more obvious to
you. And, by the lustre of their virtues, you
will better see the deformity of your vices;
your negligence by their diligence; your pride
by their humility; your passion by their meekness; and your folly by their wisdom.
Examples not only move, but teach and direct much more effectually than precepts; and
show us, not. only that such virtues may be
practised, but how; -and- how lovely they appear when they are. And, therefore, if we
cannot have them always before our eyes, we
should endeavour to have them always in our
mind; and especially that of our great Head
and Pattern, who hath set us a lovely example
of the most innocent conduct, under the worst
and most disadvantageous circumstances of
human life.




SELF-KN'OWLE DGOE.        225
CHAPTER  V.
Of cultivating such a temper as will be the best disposition to
self-knowledge.
V.' "Ir a man would know himself, he must,
with great care, cultivate that temper which
will best dispose him to receive this knowledge."
Now, act there are no greater hinderances to
self-knowledge than pride and obstinacy, so
there is nothing more helpful to it than humility and an openness to conviction.
(1.) One who is in quest of self-knowledge,
must, above all things, seek humility. And how
near an affinity there is between these two, appears from hence, that they are both acquired
the same way. The very means of attaining
humility are the properest means for attaining
self-knowledge.  By keeping an eye every day
upon our faults and wants, we become more humble; and, by the same means, we become more
self-knowing.  By considering how far we fall
short of our rule and our duty, and how vastly
others exceed us, and especially by a daily
and diligent study of the word of God, we come
to have meaner thoughts of ourselves; and, by
15




2216        sEZ LF- KNOWIE DGE.
the very same means, Awe come to have a better
acquaintance with ourselves.
A proud man cannot know himself. Pride
is that beam in the eye of his mind which renders him quite blind to any blemishes there.
Hence, nothing is a surer sign of self-ignorance
than vanity and ostentation.
Indeed, true self-knowledge and humility are
so necessarily connected, that they depend
upon, and mutually beget, each other. A'man
that knows himself, knows the worst of himself, and therefore cannot but be humble; and
an humble: mind is frequently contemplating its
own faults and weaknesses, which greatly improves it in self-knowledge. So that self-acquaintance makes a man humble; and humility
gives him still a better acquaintance with himself.
(2.) An openness to conviction is no less
necessary to self-knowledge than humility.
As nothing is a greater bar to true knowledge
than an obstinate stiffness in opinion, and a fear
to depart from old notions, which (before we
were capable of judging perhaps) we had long
taken up for the truth, so nothing is a greater
bar to self-knowledge than a strong aversion to
part with those sentiments of ourselves which
we have been blindly accustomed to, and to
think worse of ourselves than we are used.




SILF-KINOWLE DGE.            7
And such an1 unwiillingness to retract our sentiments, in both cases, proceeds from the same
cause, namely, a reluctance to self-condenmnation.  For he that takes up a new way of thinking, contrary to that which he hath long received, therein condemns himself of having
lived in an error; and he that begins to see
faults in himself he never saw before, condemns himself of having lived in ignorance and
sin.  Now this is an ungrateful business, and
what self-flattery gives us a strong aversion to.
But such an inflexibility of judgment, and
hatred of conviction, is a very unhappy and
hurtful turn of mind; and a mnan that is resolved never to be in the wrong, is in a fair
way never to be in the right.
As infallibility is no privilege of the human
nature, it is no diminution to a man's good
sense or judgment to be found in an error, provided he is willing to retract it.  He acts with
the same freedom and liberty as before; whoever be his monitor, it is his own good sense
and judgment that still guide him; which
shine to great advantage in thus directing him
against the bias of vanity and self-opinion. And
in thus changing his sentiments, he only acknowledges that he is not, what no man ever
was, ineapahle of heino mistakl.en.  Tn short, it




228           aSELF-KNO WLEDGE.
is more merit, and an argument of a more excellent mind, for a man freely to retract when
he is in the wrong, than to be overbearing and
positive when he is in the right?*
A man, then, must be willing to know himself, before he can know  himself.  He must
open his eyes, if he desires to see-; yield to
evidence and conviction, though it be at the
expense of his judgment, and to the mortification of his vanity.
CHAPTER VI.
To be sensible of our false knowledge, a good step to selfknowledge.
VI. " WOULD you know yourself, take heed
and guard against false knowledge."
See that the " light that is within you be not
darkness;" that your favourite and leading
principles be right. Search your furniture, and
see what you have to unlearn. For oftentimes
there is as much wisdom in casting off some
knowledge which we have, as in acquiring that
* "If any one can convince me that I am wrong in any
point of sentiment or practice, I will alter it with all my heart.
For it is truth I seek; and that can hurt nobody. It is only
persisting in error or ignorance that can hurt us."-Ml. Abtrelihes




8EL,'-KNOWLE D C~,.       2, 29,)
which we have not; which, perhaps, was what
made Themistocles reply, when one offered to
teach him the art of memory, that "' he had
much rather he would teach him the art of forgetfulness."
A scholar, that hath been all his life collecting of books, will find in his library, at last, a
great deal of rubbish; and, as his taste alters,
and his judgment improves, he will throw out a
great many as trash and lumber, which, it may
be, he once valued and paid dear for, and replace
them with such as are more solid and useful.
Just so should we deal with our understandings; look over the furniture of the mindc; separate the chaff from the wheat, which are
generally received into it together; and take as
much pains to forget what we ought not to have
learned, as to retain what we ought not to forget. To read froth and trifles all our life, is
the way always to retain a flashy and juvenile
turn; and only to contemplate our first (which
is generally our worst) knowledge, cramps the
progress of the understanding, and is a great
hinderance to a true self-knowledge. In short,
would we improve the understanding to the
valuable purposes of self-knowledge, we must
take as much care what books we read, as what
company we keep.




92S3        58EL F-KN'  \ 1, E D'CI,
"T'he pains we take in books or arts, which
treat of things remote from the use of life, is a
busy idleness. If I study," says Montaigne,'? it
is for no other science than what treats of
the knowledge of myself, and instructs me how
to live and die wxellp"- Rule of Life.
It is a comfortless speculation, and a plain
proof of the imperfection of the human understanding, that, upon a narrow scrutiny into our
furniture, we observe a great many things which
we think we know, but do not; and a great
many things which we do know, but ought not;
that of the knowledge which we have been all
our lives collecting, a good deal of it is mere
ignorance, and a good deal of it worse than
ignorance; to be sensible of which, is a very
necessary step to self-acquaintance. See part i,
chapter xiii.
CHAPTER VII.
Self-inspection peculiarly necessary upon some particular
occasions.
VII. "WOULD yOU know yourself, you must
very carefully attend to the frame and emotions
of your mind under some particular incidents
and occasions."




SELF-KNOWLEDGE.           231
Some sudden accidents which befall you
when the mind is most off its guard, will better
discover its secret turn and prevailing disposition, than much greater events you are prepared for.  For example,(1.) Consider how you behave under any
sudden affronts or provocations from men.'! A
fool's wrath is presently known," (Prov. xii,
16,) that is, a fool is presently known by his
wrath.
If your anger be soon kindled, it is a sign
that secret pride lies lurking in the heart, which,
like gunpowder, takes fire at every spark of
provocation that lights upon it. For whatever
may be owing to a natural temper, it is certain
that pride is the chief cause of frequent and
wrathful resentments: for pride and anger are
as nearly allied as humility and meekness.
"' Only by pride cometh contention," Prov. xiii,
10. And a man would not know what mud lay
at the bottom of his heart, if provocation did not
stir it up.
Athenodorus, the philosopher, by reason of
his old age, begged leave to retire from the
court of Augustus, which the emperor- granted
him; and as Athenodorus was taking his leave
of him, " Remember," said he, " Cesar, whenever you are angry, you say or do nothing be



23;2         S:EL'F- K(NO WLEDGE'l.
fore you have repeated the four-and-twenty letters of the alphabet to yourself."  Whereupon
Cesar, catching him by the hand, "I have need,"
says he, s" of your presence still;" and kept
him a year longer. This is celebrated by the
ancients as a rule of excellent wisdom. But a
Christian may prescribe to himself a much
wiser, namely, " When you are angry, answer
not till you have repeated the fifth petition of
the Lord's prayer,'Forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive them that trespass against us;'
and our Saviour's comment upon it,' For if ye
forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly
Father will also forgive you: but if ye forgive
1not men their trespasses, neither will your
Father forgive your trespasses.'" Matthew vi,
14, 15.
It is a just and seasonable thought of Marcus Antoninus, upon such occasions: "' A man
misbehaves himself toward me-what is that
to me? The action is his; and the will that
sets him upon it is his; and therefore let him
look to it.  The fault and injury is his, not
mine. As for me, I am in the condition Providence would have me, and am doing what becomes me."-Meditations, book v, ~ 25.
But still this amounts only to a philosophical
contempt of injuries, and falls much beneath a




SELFT-KNOWiLEDGE.        233
Christian forgiveness of them; which, as Christians, we are bound to, and which, if we know
ourselves, we shall be disposed to. And therefore, in order to a true self-knowledge, we
must always take care to examine and observe
in what manner we are affected in such circumstances.
(2.) How do you behave under a severe and
unexpected affliction from the hand of Providence? which is another circumstance, which,
when rightly improved, will help us very much
to know ourselves.
If there be any habitual discontent or impatience lurking within us, this will draw it forth,
especially if the affliction be attended with any
of those aggravating circumstances with which
Job's was.
Afflictions are often sent with this intent, to
teach us to know ourselves; and, therefore,
ought to be carefully improved to this purpose.
And much of the wisdom and goodness of
our heavenly Father is seen by a serious and
attentive mind, not only in proportioning the
degrees of his corrections to his children's
strength, but in adapting the kinds of them to
their tempers; afflicting one in one way, another
in another, according as he knows they are




234          SELF-KNOWLEDG)E.
most easily wrought upon, and as will be most
for their advantage: by which means a slight
affliction of one kind may as deeply affect us,
and procure as great an advantage to us, as a
much greater of another kind.
It is a trite but true observation, that a wise
man receives more benefit from his enemies
than from his friends, from his afflictions than
from his mercies; by which means he makes
his enemies in effect his best friends, and his
afflictions his greatest mercies. Certain it is,
that a man never has an opportunity of taking
a more fair and undisguised view of himself
than in these circumstances; and therefore, by
diligently observing in what manner he is
affected at such times, he may make an improvement in the true knowledge of himself,
very much to his future advantage, though perhaps not a little to his present mortification;
for a sudden provocation from man, or severe
affliction from God, may detect something
which lay latent and undiscovered so long at
the bottom of his heart, that he never once
suspected it to have had any place there. Thus
the one excited wrath in the meekest man,
(Psa. cvi, 33,) and the other passion in the most
patient. Job iii, 3.
By considering, then, in what manner we bear




S,EL F'- K NOw  VLED GE.  2 3
the particular afflictions God is pleased to allot
us, and what benefit we receive from them, we
may come to a very considerable acquaintance
with ourselves.
(3.) In a time of peace, prosperity, and pleasure, when the soul is generally most unguarded,
what is its temper and disposition then?
This is the warm season that nourishes and
impregnates the seeds of vanity, self-confidence,
and a supercilious contempt of others. If there
be such a root of bitterness in the heart, it will
be very apt to shoot forth in the sunshine of
uninterrupted prosperity, even after the frost of
adversity had nipped it, and, as we thought,
killed it.
Prosperity is a trial as well as adversity,
and is commonly attended with more dangerous
temptations. And were the mind but as seriously disposed to self-reflection, it would have
a greater advantage of attaining a true knowledge of itself under the former than under the
latter. But the unhappiness of it is, the mind
is seldom rightly turned for such an employment under those circumstances. It has something else to do; has the concerns of the world
to mind; and is too much engaged by the things
without it, to advert to those within it; and is
nmore disposed to enjoy than examine itself.




236          SELF-IKNOWLEDGE.
However, it is a very necessary season for selfexamination, and a very proper time to acquire
a good degree of self-knowledge, if rightly improved.
(Lastly.) How do we behave in bad coinpany?
And that is to be reckoned bad company, in
which there is no probability of our doing or
getting any good, but apparent danger of our
doing or getting much harm; I mean, our giving
offence to others by an indiscreet zeal, or incurring guilt to ourselves by a criminal compliance.
Are we carried down by the torrent of vanity
and vice? Will a flash of wit, or a brilliant
fancy, make us excuse a profane expression?
If so, we shall soon come to relish it, when
thus seasoned, and use it ourselves. This is a
time when our zeal and wisdom, our fortitude
and firmness, are generally put to the most
delicate proof, and when we may too often take
notice of the unsuspected escapes of folly, fickleness, and indiscretion.
At such seasons as these, then, we may often
discern what lies at the bottom of our hearts,
better than we can in the more even and customary scenes of life, when the passions are all
calm and still; and therefore, would we know




SELF-IKNOWLEDGE.          237
ourselves, we should be very attentive to our
framne, temper, disposition, and conduct, upon
such occasions.
CHAPTER VIII.
To know ourselves we must wholly abstract from external
appearances.
VIII. " WOULD you know yourself, you must,
as far as possible, get above the influence of
external appearances and circumstances."
A man is what his heart is. The knowledge
of himself is the knowledge of his heart, which
is entirely an inward thing; to the knowledge
of which, then, outward things (such as a man's
condition and circumstances in the world) can
contribute nothing; but, on the other hand, if
taken into any consideration, will be a great
bar and hinderance to him in his pursuit of selfknowledge.
(1.) Are your circumstances in the world
easy and prosperous, take care you do not judge
of yourself too favourably on that account.
These things are without you, and therefore
can never be the measure of what is within
you; and however the world may respect you
for them, they do not in the least make yoll
either a wiser or more valluable man.




238,81':,ELFI-KNOWLED. )G E.
In forming a true judgment of yourself, then,
you must entirely set aside the consideration
of your estate and family, your wit, beauty,
genius, health, &c., which are all but the appendages or trappings of a man, or a smooth
and shining varnish, which may lacker over
the basest metal.
A man may be a good and happy man without these things, and a bad -and wretched one
with them. Nay, he may have all these, and
be the worse for them. They are so far from
being good and excellent in themselves, that
we often see Providence bestows them upon the
vilest of men, and, in kindness, denies them to
some of the best. They often are the greatest
temptations that can put a man's faith and firmness to the proof. Or,
(2.) Is your condition in life mean and afflicted? Do not judge the worse of yourself
for not having those external advantages which
others have.
None will think the worse of you for not
having them, but those who think the better of
themselves for having them: in both which
they show a very depraved and perverted judgment. These are (-rna 8s 8E' jLutv) things entirely without us, and out of our power; for
which a man is neither the better nor the worse,




SE, LF-XNOWrLE DGCJ.        239
but according as he uses them; and therefore
you ought to be as indifferent to them  as they
are to you. A good man shines amiably through
all the obscurity of his low fortune, and a wicked man is a poor little wretch in the midst of
all his grandeur.'
Were we to follow the judgment of the world,
we should think otherwise of these things, and
by that mistake be led into a mistaken notion
of ourselves.  But we have a better rule to follow, to which if we adhere, the consideration
of our external condition in life, be it what it
will, will have no undue influence on the mind
in its search after self-knowledge.
CHAPTER IX.
The practice of self-knowledge a great means to promote it.
IX. "LET all your self-knowledge be reduced
into practice."
The right improvement of that knowledge
we have, is the best way to attain more.
The great end of self-knowledge is selfgovernment, without which it is but a useless
* " Pigmies are pigmies still, though placed in Alps:
And pyramids are pyramids in vales."
Night Thotnhtfs.




240          S J;I-I.KNO WL EDE.
speculation. And, as all knowledge is valuable
in proportion to its end, so this is the most excellent kind of knowledge, only because the
practice of it is of such extensive use, as hath
been already shown.
"Above all other subjects," says an ancient
pious writer, 1" study thine own self. For no
knowledge that terminates in curiosity or speculation is comparable to that which is of use;
and of all useful knowledge, that is most so
which consists in the due care and just notions
of ourselves. This study is a debt which every
one owes himself. Let us not, then, be so
lavish, so unjust, as not to pay this-debt, by
spending some part, at least, if we cannot all,
or most, of our time and care upon that which
has the most indefeasible claim to it.  Govern
your passions; manage your actions with prudence; and where false steps have been made,
correct them  for the future.  Let nothing be
allowed to grow headstrong and disorderly; but
bring all under discipline. Set all your faults
before your eyes; and pass sentence upon
yourself with the same severity as you would
do upon another, for whom no partiality hath
biased your judgment.".-St. Bernard's Meditations, chap. v.
What will our most exact and dilioent self



SELF-KNOWLEDGE.''-1
researches avail us, if, after all, we sink into
indolence and sloth? Or what will it signify to
be convinced, that there is a great deal amiss
in our deportment and dispositions, if we sit
still contentedly under that conviction, without
taking one step toward a reformation? It will,
indeed, render us but the more guilty in the
sight of God. And how sad a thing will it be
to have our self-knowledge hereafter rise up in
judgment against us!
" Examination is in order to correction and
amendment.  We abuse it and ourselves, if we
rest in the duty without looking further. We
are to review our daily walk, that we may reform it; and, consequently, a daily review will
point out to us the subject and matter of our
future daily care.  This day (saith the Christian, upon his review of things at night) I lost
so much time, particularly at. I took too
great a liberty, particularlyin -..  I omitted
such an opportunity, that might have been
improved to better purpose.  I mismanaged
such a duty.  I find such a corruption often
working; my old infirmity still cleaves to me;
how easily doth this sin beset me! O! may I
be more attentive for the time to come; more
watchful over my heart; take more heed to
my ways! May I do so the next day!
16




242          SELF-K NOW(LEDGE.
"The knowledge of a distemper is a good step
to a cure: at least, it directs to proper methods
and applications in order to it.  Self-acquaintance leads to self-reformation. He that, at the
close of each day, calls over what is past, inspects himself, his behaviour and manners, will
not fall into that security, and those uncensured
follies that are so common and so dangerous."
-Bennet's Chr]ist. Orat.
And it may not be improper, in order to make
us sensible of, and attentive to, some of the
more secret faults and foibles of our tempers,
to pen them down at night, according as they
appeared during the transactions of the day;
by which means we shall not only have a more
distinct view of that part of our character, to
which we are generally most blind, but shall
be able to discover some defects and blemishes
in it, which, perhaps, we never apprehended
before.  For the wiles and doublings of the
heart are sometimes so hidden and intricate,
that it requires the nicest care and most steady
attention to detect and unfold them.
For instance: 6" This day I read an author
whose sentiments were very different from
mine, and who expressed himself with much
warmth and confidence. It excited my spleen,
I own, and I immediately passed a severe cen




SELl"'-K~NOWLE:I)DGEh   243
sure upon him; so that, had he been present,
and talked in the same strain, my ruffled temper would have prompted me to use harsh and
ungrateful language, which might have occasioned a very unchristian contention. But I
now recollect, that, though the author might be
mistaken in those sentiments, (as I still believe
he was,) yet, by his particular circumstances
in life, and the method of his education, he
hath been strongly led into that way of thinking; so that his prejudice is pardonable; but
my uncharitableness is not, especially considering, that, in many respects, he has the ascendant of me. This proceeded, then, from
uncharitableness, which is one fault of my
temper I have to watch against; and which I
never was before so sensible of as I am now,
upon this recollection. Learn more moderation, and make more allowances for the mistaken opinions of others for the future.  Be as
charitable to others, who differ from  yolu, as
you desire they should be to you, who differ
as much from them; for it may be, you cannot
be more assured of being in the right than they
are.
" Again: this day I have found myself
strongly inclined to put in something by way
of' abatement to an excellent character given of




244          SELI'F-~KNOW\LEDGE.
an absent person by one of his great admirers.
It is true I had the command of myself to hold
my tongue, and it is well I had: for the ardour
of his zeal would not have admitted the exception, (though I still think that, in some degree,
it was just,) which might have raised a wrangling debate about his character, perhaps at the
expense of my own; or, however, occasioned
much animosity and contention.  But I have
since examined the secret spring of that impulse, and find it to be envy, which I was not
then sensible of; but my antagonist had certainly imputed it to this: and had he taken the
liberty to have told me so, I much question
whether I should have had the temper of the
philosopher, who, when he was really injured,
being asked whether he was angry or no, replied,' No; but I am considering with myself
whether I ought not to be so.' I doubt I should
not have had so much composure, but should
have immediately resented it as a false and
malicious aspersion. But it was certainly envy,
and nothing else; for the person who was the
object of the encomium was much my superior
in many respects.  And the exception that
arose to my mind was the only flaw in his character, which nothing but a quick-sighted envy




SE!LF-C-KNOWLEDGE.       245
could descry. Take heed, then, of that vice for
the future.
"Again, this day I was much surprised to
observe in myself the symptoms of a vice,
which, of all others, I ever thought myself most
clear of, and have always expressed the greatest detestation of in others; and that is covetousness.  For what else could it be that
prompted me to withhold my charity from my
fellow-creature in distress, on pretence that he
was not, in every respect, a proper object; or,
to dispense it so sparingly to another, who I
knew was so, on pretence of having lately been
at a considerable expense upon another occasion? This could proceed from nothing else
but a latent principle of covetousness; which,
-though I never before observed in myself, yet
it is likely others have. O how inscrutable
are the depths and deceits of the human heart!
Had my enemy brought against me a charge
of indolence, self-indulgence, or pride, and impatience, or a too quick resentment of affronts
and injuries, my own heart must have confirmed the accusation, and forced me to plead
guilty. Had he charged me with bigotry, selfopinion, and censoriousness, I should have
thought it proceeded from the same temper in




24:t6        SE 1LF -X KNOWLEDGE.
himself, having rarely observed any thing like
it in my own.  But had he charged me with
covetousness, I should have taken it for downright calumny, and despised the censure with
indignation and triumph. And yet, after all, I
find it had been but too true a charge. 0!
how hard a thing is it to know myself! This,
like all other knowledge, the more I have of it,
the more sensible I am of my want of it."
The difficulty of self-government and selfpossession  arises  from  the difficulty of a
thorough self-acquaintance, which is necessary
to it; I say, a thorough self-acquaintance, such
as has been already set forth in its several
branches, part i. For, as self-government is
simply impossible (I mean- considered as a
virtue) where self-ignorance prevails, so the
difficulty of it will decrease in proportion to the
degree in which self-acquaintance increases.
Many, perhaps, may be ready to think this
is a paradox, and imagine that they know their
predominant passions and foibles very well, but
still find it extremely difficult to correct them.
But let them examine this point again, and perhaps they may find that that difficulty arises,
either from their defect of self-knowledge, (for
it is in this, as in other kinds of knowledge,
wherein some are very ready to think them



s  I.r-I X O T I;E DG:.  247
selves much greater proficients than they are,)
or else from their neglect to put in practice that
degree of self-knowledge they have.  They
know  their particular failings, yet will not
guard against the immediate temptations to
them. And they are often betrayed into the
immediate temptations which overcome them,
because they are ignorant of, or do not guard
against, the more remote temptations, which
lead them into those which are more immediate
and dangerous, which may not improperly be
called the temptations to temptations; in observing and guarding against which consists a
very necessary part of self-knowledge, and the
great art of keeping clear of danger, which, in
our present state of frailty, is the best means
of keeping clear of sin.
To correct what is amiss, and to improve
what is good in us, is supposed to be our hearty
desire, and the great end of all our self-research.
But if we do not endeavour after this, all our
labour after self-knowledge will be in vain;
nay, if we do not endeavour it, we cannot be
said heartily to desire it:'"For there is most
of the heart where there is most of the will;
and there is most of the will where there is
most endeavour; and where there is most endeavour there is generallv most. success.  So




248           SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
that endeavour must prove the truth of our desire, and success will generally prove the sincerity of our endeavour." —Baxter.
This, I think, we may safely say, without
attributing too much to the power of the human
will, considering that we are rational and free
agents, and considering what effectual assistance is offered to them who seek it, to render
heir endeavours successful, if they are sincere;
which introduces the subject of the following
chapter.
CHAPTER X.
Frequent and fervent prayer, the most effectual means for
attaining true self-knowledge.
" ILASTLY. The last means to self-knowledge
which I shall mention is, frequent and devout
applications to the fountain of light, and the
Father of our spirits, to assist us in this important study, and give us the true knowledge of
ourselves."
This I mention last, not as the least, but, on
the contrary, as the greatest and best means of
all, to attain a right and thorough knowledge
of ourselves, and the way to render all the rest
effectual. And, therefore, though it be the last




S ELF-N 0 WLED G'E.        249
means mentioned, it is the first that should be
used.
Would we know ourelrtes, we must often
converse, not only with ourselves in meditation,
but with God in prayer. In the lowliest prostration of soul, beseeching the Father of our
spirits to discover them to us; "in whose light
we may see light," where, before, there was
nothing but darkness, to make known to us the
depth and devices of our heart. For, without
the grace and influence of his divine illuminations and instructions, our hearts will, after all
our care and pains to know them, most certainly deceive us. And self-love will so prejudice
the understanding, as to keep us still in selfignorance.
The first thing we are to do, in order to selfknowledge, is, to assure ourselves, that our
hearts "are deceitful above all things."  And
the next is, to remember, that "the Lord searcheth the heart, and trieth the reins," (Jer. xvii, 9,)
that is, that he, the (KapdLoyvwa~rqyg) " Searcher of all hearts," (1 Chron. xxviii, 9,) hath a
perfect knowledge of them, deceitful as they
are. Which consideration, as it suggesteth to
is the strongest motive to induce us to labour
after a true knowledge of them ourselves, so it
directs us, at the same time, how we may at



250          TSELF-KNOWLEDGE.
tain this knowledge, namely, by an humble and
importunate application to him, to whom alone
they are known, to make them known to us.
And this, by the free and near access which his
Holy Spirit hath to our spirits, he can effectually
do various ways; namely, by fixing our attentions; by quickening our apprehensions; removing our prejudices; (which, like a false
medium before the eye of the mind, prevent its
seeing things in a just and proper light;) by
mortifying our pride; strengthening the intelleciive and reflecting faculties; and enforcing
upon the mind a lively sense and knowledge of
its greatest happiness and duty; and so awakening the soul from that carnal security and indifference about its best interests, which a too
serious attention to the world is apt to betray
it into.
Besides, prayer is a very proper expedient
for attaining self-knowledge, as the actual engagement of the mind in this devotional exercise is, in itself, a great help to it. For the
mind is never in a better frame than when it
is intently and devoutly engaged in this duty.
It has then the best apprehensions of God, the
truest notions of itself, and the justest sentiments of earthly things; the clearest conceptions of its own weakness, and the deepest




SELF-KNO'WLEDGE.          251
sense of its own vileness; and consequently is
ill the best disposition that can be, to receive a
true and right knowledge of itself.
And, O! could we but always think of ourselves in such a manner, or could we but always be in a disposition to think of ourselves
in such a manner, as we sometimes do in the
fervour of our humiliations before the throne of
grace, how great a progress should we soon
make in this important science? Which evidently shows the necessity of such devout and
humble engagements of the soul, and how happy
a means they are to attain a just self-acquaintance.
And now, reader, whoever thou art, that hast
taken the pains to peruse these sheets, whatever be thy circumstances or condition in the
world, whatever thy capacity or understanding,
whatever thy occupations and engagements,
whatever thy favourite sentiments and principles, or whatever religious sect or party thou
espousest, know for certain that thou hast been
deeply interested in what thou hast been reading; whether thou hast attended to it or no.
For it is of no less concern to thee than the
security of thy peace and usefulness in this
world, and thy happiness in another; and re



2512        SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
lates to all thy interests, both as a man and a
Christian. Perhaps thou hast seen something
of thine own image in the glass that has now
been held up to thee; and wilt thou go away,
and soon " forget what manner of person thou
art?" Peihaps thou hast met with some things
thou dost not well understand or approve; but
shall that take off thine attention from those
things thou dost understand and approve, and
are convinced of the necessity of? If thou hast
received no improvement, no benefit from what
thou hast been readingi read it over again. The
same thought, you know, often impresses one
more at one time than another; and we sometimes receive more knowledge and profit by the
second perusal of a book than by the first. And
I would fain hope, that thou wilt find something
in this that may set thy thoughts on work, and
which, by the blessing of God, may make thee
more observant of thy heart and conduct; and,
in consequence of that, a more solid, serious,
wise, established Christian.
But will you, after all, deal by this book you
have now read, as you have dealt by many sermons you have heard? pass your judgment upon
it according to your received and established set
of notions; tand condemn or applaud it only as
it is agreeable or disagreeable to them; and




$ELF-KNOWLEDGE.            253
conmmend or censure it, only as it suits or does
not suit your particular taste; without attending
to the real weight, importance, and necessity of
the subject, abstracted fromn those views? Or,
will you be barely content with the entertainment and satisfaction, which some parts of it
may possibly have given you; to assent to the
importance of the subject, and justness of the
sentiment, or the propriety of some of the observations you have been reading, and so dismiss all without any further concern about the
matter? Believe it, 0 Christian reader, if this
be all the advantage you gain by it, it were
scarce worth while to have confined yourself
so long to the perusal of it. It has aimed, it
has sincerely aimed, to do you a much greater
benefit; to bring you to a better acquaintance
with one you express a particular regard for,
and who is capable of being the best friend, or
the worst enemy, you have in the world; and
that is yourself. It was designed to convince
you, that, would you live and act consistently,
either as a man or a Christian, you must know
yourself; and to persuade you, under the influence of the foregoing motives, and by the
help of the fore-mentioned directions, to make
self-knowledge the great study, and self-government the great business of your life.  In which




254          SELF-KNOWLEDGE~
resolution may Almighty God confirm you; and
in which great business may his grace assist
you, against all future discouragements and distractions! With him I leave the success of
the whole; to whom be glory and praise for
ever!
THE END.




BOOKS PUBLISHED FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION
OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH.
Price eight cents each, bound and lettered.
REUBEN RAMISAY;
OR, THE BOY THAT NOBODY WANTED.
BY MRS. MAXWELL.
ARLETTA A. TURNER,
THE GOOD SUNDAY-SCHOOL GIRL.
BY REV. N. CULVER.
THE HARD WAY;
OR, THE END OF DISOBEDIENCE.
FATHER AUSTIN AND HIS SCHOOL.
TARSHISH;
OR, THE DANGERS OF DISOBEDIENCE.
Illustrated in the story of Jonah fleeing from the Lord.
LIFE OF JOHN NEWTON.
Written for Young Children.
LUCY STONE,
A SABBATH-SCHOOL SCHOLAR.
BY REV. C. S. MACREADING.
L_   -_- _         _          _____



BOOKS PUBLISHED FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION
OF TIlE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH,
Price eight cents each, bound and lettered.
THE CRACKED PITCHER;
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