YALE
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

DISCOURSES

VARIOUS SUBJECTS AND OCCASIONS,

ROBERT SOUTH, D. D.

SELECTED

FROM THE COMPLETE ENGLISH EDITION.

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER.

BOSTON :
PUBLISHED BY BOWLES AND DEARBORN,
Noi 72 Washington Street.
1827.

CONTENTS.

Page
Biographical Sketch of Dr. South - - - vii
DISCOURSE I.
The Creation of Man in God's Image. — Gen. i. 27. - 1
[Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, November 9, 1662.]
DISCOURSE II.
The Pleasures of Religious Wisdom. — Prov. iii. 17. - 20
[Preached at Court.]
DISCOURSE III.
False Foundations Removed. — Matt. vii. 26, 27. - 41
|Preached at St. Mary's Church, Oxford, before the University, July 29, 1661.]
DISCOURSE IV.
Religion, the Best Reason of State. — 1 Kings xiii. 33, 34. 61
[Preached before the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn.]
DISCOURSE V.
The Scribe Instructed. — Matt. xiii. 52. - - - 87
rPreached at St. Mary's Church, Oxford, before the University, July 29,
1660, on the Visitation of the King's Commissioners for rectifying abuses.]
DISCOURSES VI. VII.
Of Extempore-Prayer. — Eccles. v. 2. - 120,139

IV CONTENTS. Page
DISCOURSE VIII.
The Virtuous Education of Youth. — Prov . xxii. 6. - 163
[Prepared to be preached at Westminster-Abbey before the Sons of West
minster-School, 1684 — 5.]
DISCOURSE IX.
The Mystery of the Blessed Trinity. — Col. ii. 2. - 193
DISCOURSE X.
Pretence of Conscience, no Excuse for Rebellion. — Judges
xix. 30. -  217
[Preached before King Charles II. at Whitehall, January 30, 1663, being the
Anniversary of the Martyrdom of King Charles I.]
DISCOURSE XI.
The Disguises of Satan. — 1 Cor. xi. 14. - - - 246
DISCOURSE XII.
Self-interest Deposed. — Matt. x. 33. - 277
[Preached at St. Mary's Church, Oxford, during the Assizes, July, 1659.]
DISCOURSE XIII.
Of Loving our Enemies. — Matt. v. 44. - 298
[Preached at Westminster-Abbey, May 29, 1670, being the Anniversary
of the Restoration of Charles II.]
DISCOURSE XIV.
The Evils of Knowledge. — Eccles. i. 18. - . 317
DISCOURSE XV.
Of Complaints of the Times. — Eccles. vii. 1Q. - - 331

CONTENTS. V
Page
SELECTIONS FROM VARIOUS DISCOURSES.
DISCOURSE I.
All Contingencies directed by God's Providence. — Prov. xvi.
23.  347
[Preached at Westminster-Abbey, February 22, 1684.]
DISCOURSE II.
Of the Light within us. — Luke xi. 35. - 352
[Preached at Christ Church, Oxford, before the University, October, 1693.]
DISCOURSE III.
The Wisdom of God in the Gospel Mystery. — 1 Cor. ii. 7. 857
[Preached at Westminster-Abbey, April 29, 1694.]
DISCOURSE IV.
Prosperity fatal to Virtue. — Frov. i. 32. - - - 364
DISCOURSE V.
The Vanity of good Intentions merely. — 1 Cor. viii. 12. 368
[Preached at Christ Church, Oxford, before the University, May 3, 1686.]
DISCOURSE VI.
The Protection of Kings, the peculiar care of Providence. — Ps.
cxliv. 10.  371
[Preached at Westminster Abbey, November 5, 1675.]
DISCOURSE VII.
False Methods of Governing the Church of England exploded. —
Gal. ii. 5.  377
DISCOURSE VIII.
The Christian Pentecost. — 1 Cor. xii. 4. 384
[Preached at Westminster-Abbey, 1692.]
DISCOURSE IX.
Concealment of Sin, no Security. — Numb, xxxii. 23. - 392

vi CONTENTS. Page
DISCOURSE X.
Of Delight in other Men's Sins. — Rom. i. 32. - - 399
DISCOURSE XL
Shameless Sin, the sure Precursor of Ruin. — Jer. vi. 15. 405
DISCOURSE XII.
Of Covetousness. — Luke xii. 15. ... - 409
DISCOURSE XIII.
Of Falsehood and Lying. — Prov. xii. 22. - - 417
[Preached at Christ Church, before the University, October 14, 1685.]
DISCOURSE XIV,
Of Envy. — James iii. 26. ----- 421
DISCOURSE XV.
Of Flattery.— Prov. xxix. 5. ... 426
DISCOURSE XVI.
Of Ingratitude. — Judges viii. 34. 35. - 430
[Preached at Christ Church, Oxford, before the University, October 17, 1675.]
DISCOURSE XVII.
Christ's Promise, the Support of his Ministers. — Luke xxi.
15.  434
DISCOURSE XVIII.
The Fatal Perversion of Words and Names. — Isaiah v. 20. 439

Animadversions on Grotius's Exposition of the Fifty-
Third Chapter of Isaiah. - - 445
From the Animadversions on Sherlock's Vindication of
the Trinity. -----._ 449

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

OF

DR. SOUTH.

Robert South, one of the most distinguished divines of the
English church for talents, eloquence, and learning, and who, es
pecially, enjoys a proverbial celebrity for wit, was the son of William
South, an eminent merchant in London. He was born at the
neighbouring village of Hackney, in the year 1633, and early dis
covering an extraordinary genius for letters, was sent to Westmin
ster school ; entering there, as king's scholar, in 1647. Here,
under the care of the famous Dr. Busby, he acquired an unusual
measure of grammatical and philological learning ; praise, which
Anthony Wood, while he allows, materially qualifies, by ad
ding, " but more of impudence and sauciness." On the year after
his entrance, he made himself conspicuous by reading the Latin
prayers on the day of King Charles's death, and praying for his
Majesty by name. This expression of perilous loyalty, (for such
it would appear evidently to have been,) he afterwards recollected
with much complacency.* From Westminster, he was elected
student of Christ church, Oxford, in 1651, " where, having the
advantage of a handsome allowance from his mother, and the coun
tenance of his relation, Dr. John South, of New college, Regius Pro
fessor of the Greek tongue, he made those advances in literature
that gave him the admiration and esteem of the whole University
and drew upon him the eyes of the best masters of humanity and
other studies."-)- Of his proficiency here, indeed, his sermons have.
* See the Eighth Discourse, towards the close.
t Biog. Brit.

Viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
been justly called " a noble and lasting memorial." Of his classi
cal attainments, one of the first fruits was an elegant Latin poem,
addressed to Oliver Cromwell on the close of the Dutch war. In
1653, he wrote another Latin poem, much celebrated at the time,
entitled, " Musica Incantans : sive poema exprimens musicae vires,
juvenem in insaniam adigentis et musici inde periculum." The
beauty of its diction was then so highly estimated as to occasion
its separate publication, at the interval of several years after ; but
this, South himself is said to have regretted to the latest period of
life, thinking of it only as a very juvenile production.
He commenced Master of Arts on the 12th of June, 1657, after
performing all the preparatory exercises for it with the highest
applause, in which his peculiar cast of wit and humour began to
unfold itself.
This advancement, however, he did not obtain without some
resistance from Dr. Owen, the Dean of his house, who, having
found that he frequented the meetings of those royalists, among
whom was Dr. John Fell, where divine service was performed ac
cording to the Liturgy of the Church of England, expostulated with
him severely, and even threatened to expel him if he continued in
that practice. South was not of a spirit likely to bear rebuke
very meekly, however deserved. His reply, which was sufficiently
ironical and tart, showed that he was quite ready to contemn, and
even defy his principal, who at length plainly told him, he was one
that sat in the seat of the scornful.* This rupture was said to have
happened nearly at the very juncture of tbe Protector's death,
when the Presbyterians getting the mastery of the Independents,
the opportunity thus presented, was too tempting for South to re.
sist, of casting in his lot with the ascendant party.
In 1658, he was ordained by one of the deprived bishops, accord
ing to the rites of the church of England ; though so far as credit can
be given to Wood, he had already preached for some time without
orders ; " always appearing the great champion for Calvinism
against Arminianism and Socinianism." Being chosen to preach
the Assize Sermont at Oxford, in July, 1659, he endeared himself
greatly to his new patrons, at the expense of the Independents, on
whom his sarcastic talent was exerted to its full extent ; and he
received warm present encomiums, as the earnest of more sub
stantial rewards, soon to follow. So rapid, however, was the succes-
* Wood. t Twelfth Discourse of this Selection.

OF DR. SOUTH. IX"
sion of public events, as not to permit the fulfilment of these hopes ;
they were destined to be realized in a different, but more ac
ceptable form.
The glimpses of his majesty's restoration, which began to appear
at the close of the year 1659, could not escape the quicksightedness
of South. For awhile, " he was something at a stand," as Wood
thinks ; but as his powerful invective was soon aimed against all
the sectarians, without distinction, he was not, probably, long per
plexed as to the signs of the times. " But as it fell out," says his
bigoted biographer, already quoted, " he missed his ends, (that is,
the applause and its consequences, of the prelatical party,) for by
his too much eagerness to trample upon the others, the graver sort
of the said party would put their hats before their eyes, or turn
aside, as being much ashamed at what the young man did utter."
Zeal, however, does not often, under such circumstances, become
offensive from its excess merely, and especially where the ability to
serve is commensurate with the will. This was evinced in the
sequel. South was chosen public orator of the University,* August 10,
1660, having preached, a month before, " a most excellent discourse"t
before the king's commissioners. About the same time, according
to Wood, " he tugged hard, such was his high conceit of his
worth, to be canon of Christ church, as belonging to the preceding
office, but was kept back by the endeavours of the dean." His
competitors, for the most part, as he tells us, had been suffering by
their steadfast loyalty, some of them being reduced " to a bit of
bread ;" sacrifices, which South knew how to evade.
Whatever disappointment this might be to him, the " discontent
and clamour," which it was said to have called forth, did not proba
bly continue long. In 1661 he became domestic chaplain to Lord
Clarendon, whose good graces he had secured by the complimen-
* Among the other duties, appertaining to this office, to which we have
nothing similar in our literary institutions, it appears, from an incident re
lated of South, was that of presentation for degrees. A distinguished military
officer, who was to receive this honour, was ushered forward with much pa
rade by him, while he repeated the words, Presento tibi hunc virum bellicosissi-
rnum. — At this point of the ceremony, the officer, as the story relates, averted
his person, disconcerted, as was thought by some, at the very complimentary
strain of the speaker. He, however, lost not his presence of mind, but pro
ceeded with perfect readiness, — Qui nunquam antea tergiversatus eat. See
Nichols's Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth century.
f See the Fifth of this Selection.
B

X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
tary manner with which he discharged his official duty, at the in
vestiture of his Lordship as Chancellor of the University. In
March, 1663, he was installed prebendary of Westminster. A few
months later, he was admitted to the degree of doctor in divinity ; on
the authority of the Oxford historian, not without much excitement.
Similar objections to those urged upon a former occasion, we are
told, were now renewed, confirmed by the additional circumstance
of his comparative juniority, as a master of arts of but six years'
standing. This last " made bachelors of divinity and masters of
arts amazed at his claim ;" but the letters of recommendation from
his patron prevailed, though amid great confusion, if we are to
credit all that is written.
While South continued in the service of Clarendon, an incident
is related by Wood, which, as it rests on no other authority, has too
questionable a title to appear in the text as a part of authentic
biography. But for the ludicrousness of the relation itself, and as a
specimen, — the last I shall give, — of this writer's extreme preju*
dice, it ought perhaps not to be lost ; and may be seen below.* It
*" Clarendon, being much delighted with a sermon that he had preached
before him, made way for him to preach the same again before his majesty ;
and having first passed the scrutiny of so great and famous a counsellor, every
one's expectation was heightened, and happy was he or she among the
greatest wits in town, that could accommodate their humour in getting
convenient room in the chapel at Whitehall, to hang upon the lips of this so
great an oracle. The day appointed being come for acting this scene over
again, (April 13, 1662,) our author ascends the pulpit, and the eyes of all
were immediately fastened upon him. After he had performed his obeisance
to his majesty, he named his text. (Eccles. vii. 10.) Say not then what is the
cause &lc. Then after a witty preamble he proceeded to the division of the
words. The prohibition in the text he laboured to enforce by an induction
of particulars : first, the Pagan times were not better than these ; then, the
Popish times were not, Sic. But the last insisted on, was the times of the
late rebellion ; and while he was endeavouring to evince that which was the
main thing he intended to handle, it pleased God that he was suddenly taken
with a qualm, drops of sweat standing in his face as big as peas, and imme
diately he lost the use of his speech, only uttering some few words to this
effect, Oh Lord! we are all in thy hands, be merciful unto us ; and then came
down. The expectations of all being thus sadly disappointed, they were
contented with the divertisement of an anthem, and so the service of that
day ended. In the mean time, great care was taken of Mr. South, and by
the use of cordials, and other means proper for one in that condition, he
quickly recovered his spirits, and was every way as well again as before."—
History of Oxford, vol. II. p. 1044.

OF DR. SOUTH. XI
need only be mentioned here, that the text given corresponds to
that of the fifteenth discourse of this Selection, but that the
parallel, recited by Wood, has, as the reader will perceive, wholly
vanished.* Upon the retirement of Clarendon into France in 1667, Dr.
South became chaplain to James, duke of York. In 1670, he was
made canon of Christ church, Oxford. In 1676, he attended, as
chaplain, Lawrence Hyde, Esq., ambassador to the king of Po
land, of which he gave an account in a letter to Dr. Edward Po-
cock, then Regius Professor of Hebrew, with whom he held a most
intimate friendship, and which is preserved in the volume of his
posthumous writings.
On Dr. South's return to England, he was presented to the rec
tory of Islip in Oxfordshire ; and during the remainder of Charles's
reign, he continued a strenuous asserter of the royal prerogative.
About this period he is said to have refused more than one offer of
a bishopric, as likewise that of an Irish archbishopric, made him
in the reign of James, by his patron, Lawrence Hyde, earl of Ro
chester, who had been appointed lord-lieutenant of that kingdom.
This is supposed by Tooke to have been mere rumour ; and that,
" violent, domineering, and intractable as was South's temper," it is
more than probable, that his patrons might think it inexpedient, to
put into his power by such an elevation, " more power than he was
likely to use with discretion." An anecdote which is related
of him at this period of his life, he considers as giving weight to
such an opinion. The earl of Rochester, being solicited by his
brother-in-law, James II. to renounce his religion, consented to
abide the result of a conference between two divines of each party.
The champions of Protestantism, being nominated by himself of
course, were Dr. Jane and Dr. South ; the latter of whom was ob
jected to by his majesty, on the ground, " that instead of arguments,
he would bring railing accusations, and had not temper of mind
enough to go through a dispute that required the greatest calmness
and attention." Dr. Patrick, then dean of Peterborough, was
chosen in his place, who yet sought the assistance of Dr. South at
a consultation the night before the conference was to commence.
* Of the deep-rooted antipathy of Wood to the author of these sermons,
by which Tooke appears to have been too much biassed, an explanation,
plausible enough, is given by Warton, as quoted in Malone's " Historical View
of the English Stage."

XU BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
The arguments drawn up by hiin were so irrefragable, as se.
cured a decisive triumph to the cause he was not allowed openly to
sustain ; and that too, to the satisfaction of the king himself, who
dismissed his own champions with the rebuke, " that he could say
more in behalf of his religion than they could ; and that he never
heard a good cause managed so ill, nor a bad one so well."*
During the reign of this gloomy and bigotted prince, Dr. South re
mained inactive, " prayers and tears being the only means which
his political principles would allow him to use," for averting the
impending evil. He would neither join in the invitation to the
Prince of Orange to come over to the rescue of the nation ; nor,
after his arrival, subscribe to the association for his support, which
was signed by the vice-chancellor and several heads of colleges in
Oxford. When the new government, however, was firmly estab
lished, he took the oath of allegiance to it, without scruple. His
political principles and conduct, however, did not, at least in this
case, change with the times. He was still a determined enemy to
toleration of all sorts ; and the scheme for a comprehension of the
dissenters within the church establishment, which was started soon
after King William's accession, and which Tillotson and Burnet
had so much at heart, gave no less disquiet to him. Of this he dis
burdened his mind, in some degree probably, in the discourse
from which some fragments are given in this volume, making the
seventh of the "Selections."
The year 1693 is a memorable point in the life of Dr. South.
Dr. William Sherlock, the father of the celebrated bishop, having
published a " Vindication of the Trinity," by which, in his
view, that leading doctrine of his church was rendered wholly
indefensible, he could not resist the temptation to reply ; which he
did, to use the language of Burnet, " with an abundance of learning
and orthodox zeal, but without any measure of christian charity,
or any regards to the dignity of the subject or the decencies of his
profession." His " Animadversions" are dedicated " to his adversa
ry's admirers, and to himself, the chief of them." For the information
of some readers, it may here be observed of this dispute, that Sher
lock's distinction of persons in the Godhead has been commonly
thought to run into tritheism ; while his adversary, with whom
this triple division is resolved into mere modes of subsistence or
* English Editors of Bayle's Dictionary.

OF DR. SOUTH. Xlll
operation, as evidently verged to the heresy of Sabellius. This
dispute, " long, loud, and furious,'' gradually enlisted, in its pro
gress, most of the theologians of the kingdom, on one side or
the other. What must have been a matter of peculiar triumph
to South, the hostile opinion having been maintained by Mr. Bing
ham of University college, in a public sermon, was censured there
in convocation, as " false, impious, heretical, and contrary to the
doctrine of the church of England." The difference was rather
inflamed than healed, however, by the decree ; till the king was
at last obliged to interpose his authority, forbidding the clergy to
preach on the controverted question. Both parties engaged in it
were soon after ridiculed in a well known ballad, entitled " The
Battle Royal," which may be seen at length in Burnet's (Geo.)
" Specimens of English Prose Writers." Some extracts from Dr.
South's principal piece in this discussion are subjoined at the close
of the volume ; since they were thought to contribute not a little to
the full-length portrait of this singular man. It is well also, that
large class of readers, who have such a morbid horror of all con
troversy, should know something of its spirit in other days ; that in
question being, in this respect, by no means singular. They may
learn to look upon the courteous warfare, of which the instances
surely are not rare within our own observation or memory, as no
very intolerable evil. If the reader of the extracts above-mention
ed, is inclined to sympathize with the object of such a shower of
virulent sarcasm, he may be apprized, that if it was not equally
sustained on the part of Sherlock, it can hardly be ascribed to his
superior mildness and forbearance. In other words, in a contest
like this, his adversary was in his element ; and might have felt sure
of triumph over most opponents of his time.
During the greater part of Queen Anne's reign, Dr. South re
mained in a state of inaction ; and the infirmities of old age grew
fast upon him. Yet none were more alive to any alarm which
concerned the church. He caught the ferment in which the public
mind was long kept by Sacheverill, " that ignorant, impudent in
cendiary," as he was contemptuously styled by the Duchess of
Marlborough; and strenuously exerted himself to procure for him
a lenient sentence from his judges. When his political friends
came into power towards the close of that reign, he was "solicited
and courted" to accept of some higher dignities in the church,

XIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
and particularly to succeed Dr. Sprat as bishop of Rochester
and dean of Westminster, in 1713 ; but he replied, that such a
chair " would be too uneasy for an old, infirm man to sit in." The
death of the queen was regarded by him as an indication of the
approach of his own ; as he told one of his most familiar friends
and visitors, " that it was time for him to prepare for his journey
to a blessed immortality ; since all that was good and gracious, and
the very breath of his nostrils, had taken its departure to the regions
of bliss." One of the last acts of his life demonstrated the con
stancy of his attachments. The duke of Ormond had, by a bill of
attainder in parliament, forfeited his title, and with it his place of
high-steward of Westminster. Dr. South felt much regard for this
family ; and the earl of Arran, only brother of the late duke, being
one of the two candidates to succeed him, he caused himself, though
in a manner bed-ridden, to be brought in a chair to the new
election. He made the voice of the prebendaries equal, by saying
very briskly, when asked for whom he would vote, " Heart and
hand for my Lord Arran." The choice was determined in his
lordship's favour by the dean, who had the casting vote. This
was the last time he went abroad ; and exhausted, no doubt, by
the interest he had shown, he made quick advances towards his dis
solution ; closing a long and laborious life, 8th of July, 1716.
He was buried, with many attendant circumstances of pomp
and respect, in Westminster Abbey, near the tomb of Busby. The
funeral service, at his own request, was read by Atterbury, for
whom he had a great regard, and on whom the dignities had been
conferred which himself had declined. His eloge is contained in
the Latin epitaph written by Dr. Friend, then head-master of West
minster school, and inscribed on the sumptuous marble monument
erected to his memory. This, which will be regarded by most as
sufficiently complimentary, but which surely is less disproportioned
to its subject than many, describes him " as uniting at once all those
extraordinary talents that were divided among the greatest masters
of antiquity ; the sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of
Aristotle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and embellishments
of Cicero. One knows not which most to admire in his writings
the strength of reason, force of style, or brightness of imagination."
And further, " that while he was possessed of Tertullian's oratory
and force of persuasion, he was clothed with St. Cyprian's devotion

OF DR. SOUTH. XV
and humility." It is not easy to suppress a smile at the last grace
with which the writer has endowed him ; but in which he mani
fests, at least, the warmth and partiality of his friendship.
The praise, however liberal, which, in strict justice, is due to
the intellect and the writings of South, will indeed very possibly
be thought by some, outweighed by the faults of his character. He
has laid this open, without disguise, in his sermons ; and the pic
ture, which some of his biographers have drawn of it, is little else
than one of unmingled shade. The epithets of " sour," " mo
rose," " peevish," " unamiable," " intolerant," and " unforgiv
ing," make up most of the delineation of Rees and Tooke ; while
that of Antony Wood is written in gall. This estimate, unreason
ably severe, will be softened, as it ought, by reference to other
sources. South's was, what is called, a strongly marked character ;
and none who came often in contact with him, could view such a
man with indifference. His prejudices, extreme in all points, acting
upon an ardent, ingenuous, and frequently indiscreet temper, would
naturally create enemies enough to blacken his name and memo
ry ; while, in the same cast of mind, as often is seen in other
instances, many of his best qualities had their rise. Of his generous
friendship, one or two examples have appeared in the sketch of his
life ; his charities to the poor were said to have been both liberal and
secret ; while for his curates he made as large provision as is often
shown towards that unfortunate portion of the church. But having
no anxiety to magnify his personal character, it is readily allowed,,
that these laudable traits might consist with the constitutional want
of any very winning qualities ; and, according to a generally ad
mitted maxim, he was too witty a man to be much loved.
The reproach of being a time-server, is that which is most fre
quently cast upon his memory ; by some, no doubt, who have heard
nothing of his history beside. The versatility of his early life speaks
too plausibly indeed to this charge. Nor is it meant to palliate
it in saying, that the consciousness of such powers, fed by the most
lavish encomiums, must at that season of life have worked strongly
on an ambition, not naturally very torpid ; till it was quite carried
away by the prospects of distinction, which those times of confusion
encouraged. These circumstances of his life too, it must not be
forgotten, belong to a period which did not, either within the church
or among his seniors, super-abound in examples of inflexible prin-

XVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
ciple. Dr. South lived long enough to see the political faith which
he cherished, again subverted ; yet he did not dishonour his mature
judgment by deserting it. This, it rests with those who impeach
his integrity, to explain. If his steadfastness at the revolution of 1688
be weighed in the balance with his youthful levity during the in
terregnum, he will not perhaps be found wanting.
His adulation towards those who held the high places of church
and state, it must be frankly owned, is inexcusably gross, in an
age when adulation made near approaches to idolatry. Here, if
he yields to any one the first place, it can only be to the dedica
tions of Dryden. While lavishing his panegyric on the memory of
the first, or the person of the second Charles, he seems to labour
with the greatness of his theme ; nor did the profligate character
of the latter, for aught that appears, create any conscientious
scruples to check the freedom of his pen. But devoted as he was
to royalty, in whomsoever it might chance to reside ; it is grateful to
see that he was not wholly blind to the gross licentiousness of
his times. As evidence of this, it is enough to refer to the last
paragraphs of the tenth discourse of this Selection. This discourse,
of which the general spirit is more bitter, perhaps, than that of any
other from his pen, at once passes at its close into a strain of
melancholy reflection, such as the moral aspect of society prompted,
the more impressive and striking from the contrast. Another pa
ragraph of the same tenor is found in one of his posthumous dis
courses, from which nothing has been taken in the body of this
volume ; and rather than lose a passage at once so eloquent, and
so redeeming to the character of the subject of this notice, it is
subjoined below.*
*" God neither dried up the sea, to bring the Israelites into a land flowing
with milk and honey, that they might debauch, revel, and surfeit upon that
mercy ; nor did he, by a miracle as great, reinstate a company of poor, dis
tressed exiles in the possession of their native country, that they should live
at that rate of vanity and superfluity, that the world now-a-days cries out
upon them for. God did not work wonders, to clothe and feed a few worth.
less parasites with the riches of a kingdom, to fill their cups with the blood
of orphans, and the tears of widows. God did not intend that so uni
versal a blessing, big enough for us all, should be diverted under-ground into
the obscure, narrow channel of a few private purses ; leaving so many
loyal, suffering, undone persons, to sigh and mourn over their destitute con
dition, in the day of a public joy. God did not restore us to scoff at religion,
and to malign his church, as if the nation and the government might stand

•OF DR. SOUTH. XYD.
It is certainly much to the honour of South, that he has borne
this decided testimony, — in language not less explicit, so far as my
knowledge extends, than any contemporary preacher, certainly any
court chaplain, — to the prevailing licentiousness of manners. Still,
one could have wished that he had not been so strangely blind to its
true source ; or, to come perhaps nearer the truth, that he had been
less fearful of even hinting at it, however indirectly. But of the
character of his royal master, South was not tender only : he
might, from some parts of this volume, be thought almost enamour
ed of it ; and he who should first become acquainted with Charles
through these sermons, might well need a guide to recognise him
again in history. We cannot therefore, in this particular, render
the same tribute to South as to Evelyn ; one, whose loyalty was
no way inferior to his own!
The intolerant spirit, which was continually venting itself in
such asperity of lariguage, as shocks the gentleness and refinement
of modern times, is no slight blemish in the character of South.
Of this temper, it is mortifying to say, that there are few sermons
that do not afford more or less evidence. It breaks forth when
the Socinians or Papists, but much oftener, when the Puritans are
his theme ; and though it takes sometimes the form of sportive hu
mour and wit, yet more frequently still, that of bitter and envenomed
satire. " His humour indeed, in too many instances, borders on
grossness and indelicacy, and his wit betrayed him into ex
pressions certainly improper, if not profane." Both the above
faults, the violation of good temper and the offence against decorum
in language, have sometimes occasioned concern and hesitancy in
the editor of this volume. But to omit such passages has not always
been easy without injury to the sermon, and in his view any at
tempt to soften them, would be an unwarrantable liberty. They
have therefore been suffered to pass, in the hope, so far as they
admit of apology, that the reader would remember when they were
written ; an allowance, which South needs much more for the tem
per of his productions, than for their style and taste.
It is one of the least favourable circumstances in the character
of this remarkable man, that there seemed to be so little cordial
well enough without a church, but not without plays. No ; surely, this was
not the intent of this miraculous deliverance, whatsoever has been made the
event of it." C

XVlll BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
regard between him and his eminent contemporaries. The sar
casms in one of the last discourses in this volume (seventeenth
of the " Selections," p. 438.) are very obviously levelled at Jeremy
Taylor ; on which an English journal has pronounced so accurate
& judgment, that its language may be adopted without varia
tion. " The criticism of this passage is perfectly sound ; and
is a just exposure of Taylor's defects ; but it is neither a fair nor an
honourable representation of his general manner. It is not charac"
ter, but caricature ; the expressions themselves are singled out in
malice, without any regard to the redeeming beauties of Taylor's
language and conception. There can be no question that these
fantastic phrases and ' starched similitudes' were really offensive
to the sound taste and finer ear of South ; but we are persuaded
that the real gravamen was to be found in the greater reputation
of his illustrious rival."* What rendered this reflection the more
unkind, is, that after being kept back during the life of Taylor, it
Was spoken on the very year succeeding his decease. Nor does
he appear to have been on a more friendly footing with Tillotson.
The liberal encomium which the latter bestowed on the Socinians
of his time, in his sermons " on the Divinity of our Blessed Lord,"
was wholly unpalatable to South, and he has given vent to his spleen
on this account, probably, in one discourse, (third of the " Se
lections,") and still more undisguisedly in the close of his " Ani
madversions on Sherlock's Vindication." It has been said, that he
was curious to know the archbishop's opinion of the execution of his
part of that controversy, and the rather, on account of this oblique
thrust at himself. This he contrived to obtain through a common
friend, to whom his Grace said, that the Doctor wrote like a man, but
bit like a dog ; to which the repartee of South was, that he had rather
bite like a dog than fawn like one ; and the archbishop rejoined, that
for his own part, he should choose to be a spaniel rather than a cur.i
?Eclectic Rev. for Feb. 1818.
t This keen encounter of wits rests wholly on the authority of Birch,
who, in his Life of Tillotson, produces it in order to show that his hero was
not deficient in this particular faculty. He bears little good will to South,
whom he represents " as among Protestants, one of the most forward and
petulant assailants of his Grace's writings ; whose learning and genius were
accompanied with an unrestrained acrimony of temper, and a boundless
severity of language, mixed with the lowest and falsest, as well as truest
wit, both in his conversations and writings."

OF DR. SOUTH. xix
He has also thrown out a challenge to StilUngfleet ; who published
another " Vindication of the Trinity," not far from the close of the
century, and had therein severely censured " broils and opprobri
ous language among the learned." South considered this as es
pecially meant for himself, and could not refrain from directing the
shafts of his wit, both at his old antagonist and his champion together.*
Of the inuendo mode of attack, to which South was so much
addicted, it is not out of place to say, that if Jortin be correct, it
was not disdained by Tillotson, as may be seen in the extract from
one of his sermons, subjoined below.t
With many of the learned of his time, and very consistently in
deed with his general dislike to innovation of all kinds, South
cherished strong prejudices against the Royal Society. That il
lustrious body, it is well known, did not begin its career under the
happiest auspices. Charles II. dined with the members on the
day of its creation, and then made it the whetstone of his wit ; as
appears in the familiar anecdote preserved by D'Israeli. Some
individuals also among them exercised their acuteness in very
petty, or very visionary pursuits and questions ; and South had
probably the first of these in view, in that sneering remark on the
new sages, " Mirantur nihil nisi pulices, pediculos et seipsos."
But while the personal defects of the man, so far as they enter
into his sermons, detract from their praise ; they may bear large
deductions on this score, and yet enough will remain to place them
in the highest order of this class of compositions. " No age or
?Preface to the third volume of his sermons.
t " We must be serious in our instructions — to which nothing can be more
contrary than to trifle with the word of God, and to speak of the weightiest
matters in the world, the great and everlasting concernments of the souls
of men, in so slight and indecent a manner, as is not only beneath the gravity
of the pulpit, but even of a well-regulated stage. Can any thing be more
unsuitable, than to hear a minister of God from this solemn place break
jests upon sin, and to quibble with the vices of the age ? This is to shoot
without a bullet, as if we had no mind to do execution, but only to make
men smile at the mention of their faults : this is so nauseous a folly, and of so
pernicious consequence to religion, that hardly any thing too severe can be
said of it."
1 This was undoubtedly designed as a censure upon South, for saying, that
there is no fluxing a soul out of its immortality, and a hundred things of the
same kind.' — Jortin's Miscellaneous Tracts, Vol. I.
Tillotson may, therefore, not unfitly be considered, in this passage, as
requiting on South, his castigation of Taylor.

XX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
country," it was well said, " can boast of greater names than then
(reign of Charles II.) adorned the English church ; it suffices to
name Barrow, and Taylor, and South, the most eloquent, the most
cogent, the most powerful of our divines."* His relative place in
this distinguished triumvirate has been, in my judgment, most truly
assigned by another critical work, at once of the highest respectabil
ity, and of all journals the most unlikely to cherish any prepossessions
in his favour. " As a preacher, we do not hesitate to express our
opinion, that with the obvious deductions arising from the defects
already adverted to," (similar to what I have already noticed,) " South
is second to none who have adorned the English pulpit. He has
neither the intellectual fertility of Barrow, nor the richness of
Taylor ; but he has more feeling than the first, and more discretion
and compactness than the last. Excepting in his propensity to
jesting and abuse, his taste was exquisite ; and in his happier com
positions, the structure and cadence of his periods is equal to any
thing of which the English language can boast."t That I may not
encumber the page with tributes, like these, to many readers, it is
hoped, unnecessary, let me only borrow from one source further.
" As a good judge of men and manners, and a careful observer
of human life, South deserves the highest praise. His sermons
contain innumerable thoughts which are true and striking, though
not always the most obvious to a common thinker ; and this is an
unequivocal mark of a good writer. It may perhaps be objected to
some of them, that they contain too many divisions and subdivi
sions, and that order leads to confusion ; but all the heads of his
discourse are fully examined and discussed ; and the infinite va
riety and fulness of the man's understanding and imagination led
him often to crowd into one short sermon what a modern book
maker would have diffused over a folio. ***** Satire, invec
tive, and ridicule, he poured forth in a copious and continuous
stream ; but he was often carried away by the violence of the
torrent, which he could neither direct nor restrain. Words were
the only weapons his profession allowed him to use, but he wielded
* Lond. Quarterly Rev. No. 57. Again, No. 69. " They who had been trained
in the old ways of sound and orthodox learning, — like Clarendon, and
Barrow, and South,— preserved for us a style of English undented, not less ex
cellent in manner than in argument."
t Eclectic Rev. for Feb. 1818.

OF DR. SOUTH. XXI
them with a terrible vigour and effect.* *#*#**#** t0
be properly appreciated, his sermons ought to be carefully studied ;
and we may venture to say, that the labour will not be unprofitable ;
they have the unequivocal stamp, which a peculiar turn of mind
and a great genius cannot fail to impress."!
The measure of praise, here collected, is too large and liberal to
be capable of increase ; yet there are points of excellence in
these volumes which might be brought more distinctly to view.
It is a characteristic of South's sermons, beyond those of any other
preacher, Latimer not excepted, that they reflect the very image
of the times ; and its manners, opinions, and feelings, are brought
as vividly before us, as in reading the histories of Clarendon and
Burnet. There is, further, next to nothing of quaintness or an
tiquity about their style and language ; which are much less
removed, it is safe to say, from the taste of the present age,
than from that which prevailed in his own. This volume, in fine,
will satisfy all readers, it is believed, that there could be no greater
mistake, than to suppose that wit was South's chief or only ex
cellence as a writer. But as this was not, even in his day, a very
common quality in sermons, nor his own, a common measure of that
faculty ; it is not, perhaps, strange, whatever were his other endow
ments, that this should have given him a distinctive mark, by which
his name has been transmitted. Hence, the longer he has been
known by common fame, rather than by nearer acquaintance, (a
period which may be remotely dated,) the more general, of course,
has the error become.
It remains to speak of the editorial execution of this volume.
The selection, in both parts of it, has been solely guided by the prin
ciple of regard to what were thought the most characteristic, or the
most able discourses. The admission of entire sermons only, would,
with the present limits of the volume, have excluded several of the
select portions, too remarkable to be lost. Those passages which, in
some discourses of the first part, have been omitted, as the asterisks
denote, are generally short, and very slightly connected with the
main discourse. The excluded portions of any greater length, are
*The writer adds, "Doubtless he would have fought with the same spirit
that he wrote ; for during Monmouth's rebellion, he declared be was ready, if
there should be occasion, to change his black gown for a buff coat." — See
Biog. Brit.
t Retrospective Rev. Vol. IX.

XXII BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
mostly specimens of that scholastic metaphysics so much in vogue in
his day, and for which his partiality was so great.* No change
of the writer's phraseology, even in the most exceptionable in
stances, has been thought of or made, as already stated. The
only further discretionary power exercised, has been in the occasional
suppression of pleonasms, in which South abounds, so far as was
requisite to bring these discourses, sometimes greatly extended by
digressive speculations, within any tolerable limits.
Dr. South gave successively to the public, six volumes of his
sermons during his life ; five others, much inferior in interest, and
in their general character, afterwards appeared. The sixth com
plete edition was published in 1744 ; nor is any subsequent to that
date known to me. It is certainly remarkable, that while two
distinct volumes of his contemporary Barrow, after the present plan,
have issued from the Clarendon press within this century ; the same
office has not till now been performed for South. What renders
the solution of this the more difficult is, that by the manner in which
he is to this day referred to and quoted, on questions of doctrine, in
the principal journal of the English church, his name would seem to
have lost little of its weight and influence with the lapse of years.
The local topics of many of these sermons, can explain this neglect,
only in part ; for this circumstance has its share also in giving
them something of their interest and value. As little can it be
thought chargeable, in any great measure at least, on the unami-
able features which his pages too often present. In that case
surely, the author would have most rigorously expiated the faults
of the man. Various causes, probably, have conspired to re-
remove these sermons so far from the public notice ; and it affords
some complacency to the editor, as well as some recompense to his
labour, to have been in any degree the means of their revival.
J. P. D.
Cambridge, April 26, 1827.
* " Between Dr. South's extravagant and most ungovernable wit, and his
hatred for Puritans and Socinians, added to the still lingering scholastic or
thodoxy, the armour he always buckles on for conflict, he must be allowed
to exhibit a most grotesque appearance ; semi-Calvinist and semi-Arminian,
semi-boxer and semi-buffoon, but always eloquent, profound, moral, and
hold for God and for truth."— Chr. Observer for 1823.

DISCOURSES.

DISCOURSE I.*
THE CREATION OF MAN IN GOD'S IMAGE.

GENESIS i. 27.
So God created man in his own image ; in the image
of God created he him.
How hard it is for natural reason to discover a
creation before revealed, or being revealed, to believe
it, the strange opinions of the old philosophers and the
infidelity of modern atheists, is too sad a demonstra
tion. To run the world back to its first original and
infancy, and, as it were, to view nature in its cradle,
and trace the out-goings of the Ancient of Days, in the
first instance and specimen of his creative power, is a
research too great for any mortal inquiry ; and we
might continue our scrutiny to the end of the world,
before natural reason would be able to find out when
it began.
[* " This," says the Eclectic Review, " is one of the purest of South's
productions ; and he has here traced the character of man in his first es
tate, — in his understanding — will — affections — with so admirable a skill,
with discrimination so exquisite, and in language so rich, yet so beauti
fully simple, as to excite the highest admiration of the author's powers,
and the deepest regret at their frequent misapplication " — The Epistle
Dedicatory contains a very singular notice : " The ensuing discourse
(lest I chance to be traduced for a plagiary by him who has played the
thief), I think fit to tell the world by the way, was one of those that by
a worthy hand were stolen from me in the King's Chapel, and are still
detained." — Editok.] 1

,JS THE CREATION OF MAN [DlSC. I.
Epicurus' -s discourse concerning the original of the
world is so fabulous and ridiculously merry, that we
may well judge the design of his philosophy to have
been pleasure, and not instruction.
* Aristotle held, that it streamed by connatural result
and emanation from God, the infinite and eternal
Mind, as the light issues from the sun ; so that there
was no instant of duration assignable of God's eternal
existence, in which the world did not also co-exist.
Others held a fortuitous concourse of atoms ; but
all seem jointly to explode a creation ; still beating
upon this ground, that the producing something out of
nothing is impossible and incomprehensible ; incom
prehensible indeed, I grant, but not therefore impos
sible. There is not the least transaction of sense and
motion in the whole man, but philosophers are at a
loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain it.
Wherefore it is not always rational to measure the
truth of an assertion by the standard of our apprehen
sion. But to bring things even to the bare perceptions of
reason, I appeal to any one, who shall impartially re
flect upon the ideas and conceptions of his own mind,
whether he doth not find it as easy and suitable to his
natural notions, to conceive that an infinite, almighty
Power might produca a thing out of nothing, and
make that to exist de novo, which did not exist before,
as to conceive the world to have had no beginning,
but to have existed from eternity ; which, were it so
proper for this place and exercise, I could easily de
monstrate to be attended with no small train of ab
surdities. But then, besides that the acknowledging
of a creation is safe, and the denial of it dangerous
and irreligious, and yet not more, perhaps much less,
demonstrable, than the affirmative ; so, over and above,
it gives me this advantage, that, let it seem never so
strange, uncouth, and incomprehensible, the nonplus of
my reason will yield a fairer opportunity to my faith.

Disc. /.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 3
In this chapter, we have God surveying the works
of the creation, and leaving this general impress or
character upon them, that they ivere exceeding good.
What an Omnipotence wrought, we have an Om
niscience to approve. But as it is reasonable to imag-
ine that there is more of design, and consequently
more of perfection, in the last work, we have God
here giving his last stroke, and summing up all into
man, the whole into a part, the universe into an indi
vidual ; so that, whereas in other creatures we have
but the trace of his footsteps, in man we have the
draught of his hand. In him were united all the
scattered perfections of the creature, all the graces
and ornaments ; all the airs and features of being were
abridged into this small, yet full system of nature and
divinity ; as we might well imagine that the great Ar
tificer would be more than ordinarily exact in drawing
his own picture.
The work that I shall undertake from these words,
shall be to show what this image of God in man is,
and wherein it doth consist ; which I shall do these
two ways : 1 . Negatively, by showing wherein it doth
not consist ; 2. Positively, by showing wherein it does.
For the first of these, we are to remove the errone
ous opinion of the Socinians. They deny that the
image of God consisted in any habitual perfections
that adorned the soul of Adam ; but as to his under
standing bring him in void of all notion, a rude un
written blank ; making- him to be created as much an
infant as others are born ; sent into the world only to
read and to spell out a God in the works of creation,
to learn by degrees, till at length his understanding
grew up to the stature of his body ; also without any
inherent habits of virtue in his will ; thus divesting
him of all, and stripping him to his bare essence ; so
that all the perfection they allowed his understanding
was aptness and docility ; and all that they attributed
to his will was a possibility to be virtuous.

4 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
But wherein then, according to their opinion, did
this image of God consist ? Why, in that power and
dominion that God gave Adam over the creatures ; in
that he was vouched his immediate deputy upon earth,
the viceroy of the creation, and lord-lieutenant of the
world. But that this power and dominion is not ade
quately and formally the image of God, but only a
part of it, is clear from hence ; because then he that
had most of this, would have most of God's image ;
and consequently Nimrod had more of it than Noah,
Saul than Samuel, the persecutors than the martyrs,
and Caesar than Christ himself, which to assert is a
blasphemous paradox. And if the image of God is
only grandeur, power, and sovereignty, certainly we
have been hitherto much mistaken in our duty, and
hereafter are by all means to beware of making our
selves unlike God, by too much self-denial and hu
mility. I am not ignorant that some may distinguish
between il-ovoia and Svvafiig, between a lawful au
thority and actual poiver, and affirm, that God's image
consists only in the former, which wicked princes,
such as Saul and Nimrod, have not, though they pos
sess the latter. But to this I answer,
1. That the Scripture neither makes nor owns such
a distinction ; nor any where asserts, that when princes
begin to be wicked, they cease of right to be gov
ernors. Add to this, that when God renewed this
charter of man's sovereignty over the creatures to
Noah and his family, we find no exception at all, but
that Cham stood as fully invested with this right as
any of his brethren.
2. But secondly ; this savours of something rank
er than Socinianism, even the tenets of the fifth mon
archy, and of sovereignty founded only upon saint-
ship ; and therefore fitter to be answered by the judge,
than b/ the divine ; and to receive its confutation at
the bar of justice, than from the pulpit.
Having now made our way through this false opin-

Disc. /.] in god's IMAGE. '5
ion, we are in the next place to lay down positively
what this image of God in man is. It is, in short,
that universal rectitude of all the faculties of the
soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to their
respective offices and operations ; which will be more
fully set forth, by taking a distinct survey of it, in
the several faculties belonging to the soul.
I. In the understanding.
II. In the will.
III. In the passions or affections.
I. And first for its noblest faculty, the understand
ing. It was then sublime, clear, and aspiring, and,
as it were, the soul's upper region, lofty and serene,
free from the vapours and disturbances of the infe
rior affections. It was the leading, controlling facul
ty ; all the passions wore the colours of reason ; it
was not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then
almost as quick as intuition ; it was nimble in pro
posing, firm in concluding ; it could sooner determine
than now it can dispute. Like the sun, it had both
light and agility ; it knew no rest, but in motion ;
no quiet, but in activity. It did not so properly ap
prehend, as irradiate the object ; not so much find,
as make things intelligible. It did arbitrate upon
the several reports of sense, and all the varieties of
imagination ; not like a drowsy judge, only hearing,
but also directing their verdict. In sum, it was ve-
gete, quick, and lively ; open as the day, untainted
as the morning, full of the innocence and spriteli-
ness of youth ; it gave the soul a bright and a full
view into all things ; and was not only a window,
but itself the prospect. Briefly, there is as much dif
ference between the clear representations of the un
derstanding then, and the obscure discoveries that it
makes now, as there is between the prospect of a
casement, and of a key-hole.
Now,. as there are two great functions of the soul,
contemplation and practice, according to that general

6 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
division of objects, some of which only entertain our
speculation, others also employ our actions ; so the
understanding with relation to these, not because of
any distinction in the faculty itself, is accordingly di
vided into speculative and practick ; in both of which
the image of God was then apparent.
1. For the understanding speculative. There are
some general maxims and notions in the mind of man,
which are the rules of discourse, and the basis of all
philosophy ; as that the same thing cannot at the same
time be, and not be ; that the whole is bigger than
a part ; that two dimensions severally equal to a third,
must also be equal to one another. Aristotle, indeed,
affirms the mind to be at first a mere rasa tabula;
and that these notions are not ingenite, and imprint
ed by the finger of nature, but by the latter and
more languid impressions of sense ; being only the
reports of observation, and the result of so many re
peated experiments.
But to this I answer two things.
(1.) That these notions are universal ; and what is
universal must needs proceed from some universal,
constant principle, the same in all particulars, which
here can be nothing else but human nature.
(2.) These cannot be infused by observation, be
cause they are the rules by which men take their
first apprehensions and observations of things, and
therefore in order of nature must needs precede them;
as the being of the rule must be before its application
to the thing directed by it. From whence it follows,
that these were notions not descending from us, but
born with us ; not our offspring, but our brethren ;
and (as I may so say) such as we were taught without
the help of a teacher.
Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of inno-
eence to have these clear and unsullied. He came in
to the world a philosopher, which sufficiently appeared
by his writing the nature of things upon their names ;

DISC. /.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 7
he could view essences in themselves, and read forms
without the comment of their respective properties ;
he could see consequents yet dormant in their princi
ples, and effects yet unborn and in the womb of their
causes ; his understanding could almost pierce into fu
ture contingents ; his conjectures improving even to
prophecy, or the certainties of prediction ; till his fall
he was ignorant of nothing but of sin ; or at least it
rented in the notion, without the smart of the experi
ment. Q Could any difficulty have been proposed, the
resolution would have been as early as the proposal ;
it could not have had time to settle into doubt. Like
a better Archimedes, the issue of all his inquiries was
an svgrjxa, an svg^xa, the offspring of his brain with
out the sweat of his brow. Study was not then a
duty, night-watchings were needless ; the light of rea
son wanted not the assistance of a candle. This is
the doom of fallen man, to labour in the fire, to seek
truth in profundo, to exhaust his time and impair his
health, and perhaps to spin out his days and himself
into one pitiful, controverted conclusion. There was
then no poring, no struggling with memory, no strain
ing for invention ; his faculties were quick and expe
dite ; they answered without knocking ; they were
ready upon the first summons; there was freedom and
firmness in all their operations^) I confess, it is as dif
ficult for us, who date our ignorance from our first
being, and were still bred up with the same infirmities
about us, with which we were born, to raise our
thoughts and imaginations to those intellectual perfec
tions that attended our nature in the time of innocence,
as it is for a peasant bred up in the obscurities of a
cottage, to fancy in his mind the unseen splendours of
a court. But by rating positives by their privatives,
and other arts of reason, by which discourse supplies
the want of the reports of sense, we may collect the
excellency of the understanding then, by the glorious
remainders of it now, and guess at the stateliness of

8 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
the building, by the magnificence of its ruins. All
those arts, rarities, and inventions, which vulgar minds
gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire, are but
the reliques of an intellect defaced with sin and time.
We admire it now, only as antiquaries do a piece of
old coin, for the stamp it once bore, and not for those
vanishing lineaments and disappearing draughts that
remain upon it at present. And certainly, that must
needs have been very glorious, the decays of which
are so admirable. He that is comely when old and de
crepit, surely was very beautiful when he was young.
An Aristotle was but the rubbish of. an Adam, and
Athens but the rudiments of Paradise.
2. The image of God was no less resplendent in
that, which we call man's practical understanding ;
namely, that store-house of the soul, in which are
treasured up the rules of action, and the seeds of mo
rality ; where, we must observe, that many who deny
all connate notions in the speculative intellect, do yet
admit them in this. Now of this sort are these max
ims : that God is to be worshipped ; that parents are
to be honoured ; that a man's word is to be kept, and
the like ; which, being of universal influence, as to
the regulation of the behaviour and converse of man
kind, are the ground of all virtue and civility, and the
foundation of religion.
It was the privilege of Adam innocent, to have these
notions also firm and untainted, to carry his monitor
in his bosom, his law in his heart, and to have such a
conscience as might be its own casuist ; and certainly
those actions must needs be regular, where there is an
identity between the rule and the faculty. His own
mind taught him a due dependence upon God,, and
chalked out to him the just proportions and measures
of behaviour to his fellow-creatures. (He had no cate
chism but the creation, needed no study but reflection,
read no book but the volume of the world, and that
too, not for rules to work by, but for the objects to

Disc. /.] IN GOD's IMAGE. 9
work upon. Reason was his tutor, and first principles
his magna moralia. The decalogue of Moses was but
a transcript, not an original. All the laws of nations,
and wise decrees of states, the statutes of Solon, and
the twelve tables, were but a paraphrase upon this
standing rectitude of nature, this fruitful principle of
justice, that was ready to run out, and enlarge itself
into suitable determinations, upon all emergent objects
and occasions.^ Justice then was neither blind to dis
cern, nor lame to execute. It was not subject to be
imposed upon by a deluded fancy, nor yet to be bribed
by a glozing appetite, for an utile or jucundum to turn
the balance to a false or dishonest sentence. In all its
directions of the inferior faculties, it conveyed its sug
gestions with clearness, and enjoined them with power;
it had the passions in perfect subjection ; and, though
its command over them was but suasive and political,
yet it had the force of absolute and despotical. It
was not then, as it is now, where the conscience has
only power to disapprove and to protest against the
exorbitances of the passions, and rather to wish, than
make them otherwise. The voice of conscience now
is low and weak, chastising the passions, as old Eli
did his lustful, domineering sons : — Not so, my sons,
not so. Then it spoke like a legislator ; the thing
spoke was a law ; and the manner of speaking it a new
obligation. In short, there was as great a disparity
between the practical dictates of the understanding
then, and now, as there is between empire and advice,
counsel and command, between a companion and a
governor. And thus much for the image of God as it shone in
man's understanding.
II. Let us in the next place take a view of it, as it
was stamped upon the will. It is much disputed by
divines concerning the power of man's will to good
and evil in the state of innocence ; and upon very nice
and dangerous precipices stand their determinations on
2

10 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
either side. Some hold that God invested him with a
power to stand, so that in the strength of that power
received, he might without the auxiliaries of any fur
ther influence have determined his will to a full choice
of good. Others hold, that notwithstanding this pow
er, yet it was impossible for him to exert it in any
good action, without a superadded assistance of grace
actually determining that power to the certain pro
duction of such an act ; so that, whereas some dis
tinguish between sufficient and effectual grace, they
order the matter so, as to acknowledge none sufficient,
but what is indeed effectual, and actually productive
of a good action.
I shall not presume to interpose dogmatically in a
controversy, which I look never to see decided. Doubt
less the will of man in the state of innocence, had an
entire freedom, a perfect equipendency to either part
of the contradiction, to stand, or not to stand ; to ac
cept, or not accept the temptation. I will grant the
will of man now to be as much a slave as any one will
have it, and to be only free to sin; that is, instead of
a liberty, to have only a licentiousness ; yet certainly
this is not nature, but chance. We were not born
( crooked ; we learnt these windings and turnings of
the serpent ; and therefore it cannot but be a blasphe
mous piece of ingratitude to ascribe them to God, and
to make the plague of our nature, the condition of our
creation. The will was then ductile, and pliant to all the mo
tions of right reason ; it met the dictates of a clarified
understanding half way. And the active informations
of the intellect, filling the passive reception of the will,
like form closing with matter, grew actuate into a third
and distinct perfection of practice. The understand
ing and will never disagreed ; for the proposals of the
one never thwarted the inclinations of the other. Yet
neither did the will servilely attend upon the under
standing, but as a favourite does upon his prince, where

Disc. I.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 1J
the service is privilege and preferment ; or as Solomon's
servants waited upon him, it admired its wisdom, and
heard its prudent dictates and counsels, both the direc
tion and the reward of its obedience. It is indeed the
nature of this faculty to follow a superior guide, to be
drawn by the intellect; but then it was drawn, as a
triumphant chariot, which at the same time both fol
lows and triumphs ; while it obeyed this, it command
ed the other faculties. It was subordinate, not en
slaved to the understanding ; not as a servant to a
master, but as a queen to her king, who both acknow
ledges a subjection, and yet retains a majesty.
Pass we downward from man's intellect and will,
111. To the passions, which have their residence
and situation chiefly in the sensitive appetite. For
we must know, that inasmuch as man is a compound
and mixture of flesh as well as spirit, the soul, during
its abode in the body, does all things by the mediation
of these passions and inferior affections. And here the
opinion of the Stoics Avas famous and singular, who
looked upon all these as sinful defects and irregulari
ties, as so many deviations from right reason, making
passion to be only another word for perturbation.
Sorrow in their esteem was a sin scarce to be expiated
by another ; to pity, was a fault ; to rejoice, an ex
travagance ; and the apostle's advice, to be angry and
sin not, was a contradiction in their philosophy. But
in this they were constantly outvoted by other sects of
philosophers, neither for fame nor number less than
themselves ; so that all arguments brought against them
from divinity, would come in by way of overplus to their
confutation. To us let this be sufficient, that our Sa
viour Christ, who took upon him all our natural infir
mities, but none of our sinful, has been seen to weep,
to be sorrowful, to pity, and to be angry ; which shows
that there might be gall in a dove, passion without
sin, fire without smoke, and motion without distur
bance. For it is not bare agitation, but the sediment

12 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
at the bottom, that troubles and defiles the water ;
and when we see it windy and dusty, ihe wind does
not (as we use to say) make, but only raise a dust.
Now, though the schools reduce all the passions to
these two heads, the concupiscible, and the irascible
appetite ; yet I shall not tie myself to an exact prose
cution of them under this division, but at this time,
leaving both, their terms and their method to them
selves, consider only the principal and most noted pas
sions, from whence we may take an estimate of the
rest. And first, for the grand leading affection of all,
which is Love. This is the great instrument and en
gine of nature, the bond and cement of society, the
spring and spirit of the universe. Love is such an af
fection, as cannot so properly be said to be in the soul,
as the soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapt
up into one desire ; all the powers, vigour, and facul
ties of the soul abridged into one inclination. And it
is of that active, restless nature, that it must of neces
sity exert itself; and like the^re, to which it is so often
compared, it is not a free agent, to choose whether it
will heat or no, but it streams forth by natural results
and unavoidable emanations ; so that it will fasten up
on an inferior, unsuitable object, rather than none at
all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist, than to
love; and, like the vine, it withers and dies, if it has
nothing to embrace. Now this affection in the state
of innocence was happily pitched upon its right object;
it flamed up in direct fervors of devotion to God, and
in collateral emissions of charity to its neighbour. It
was not then only another and more cleanly name for
lust. It had none of those impure heats, that both
represent and deserve hell. It was a vestal and a vir
gin fire, and differed as much from that, which usually
passes by this name now-a-days, as the vital heat from
the burning of a fever.
Then, for the contrary passion of Hatred. This, we

Disc. /.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 13
know, is the passion of defiance, and there is a kind
of aversation and hostility included in its very essence
and being. But then (if there could have been ha
tred in the world, when there was scarce any thing-
odious) it would have acted within the compass of its
proper object ; like aloes, bitter indeed, but whole
some. There would have been no rancour, no ha
tred of our brother ; an innocent nature could hate
nothing that was innocent. In a word, so great is the
commutation, that the soul then hated only that, which
now only it loves, that is, sin.
And if we may bring Anger under this head, as be
ing, according to some, a transient hatred, or at least
very like it ; this also, as unruly as now it is, yet then
it vented itself by the measures of reason. There was
no such thing as the transports of malice, or the vio
lences of revenge ; no rendering evil for evil, when
evil was truly a nonentity, and no where to be found.
Anger was then like the sword of justice, keen, but inno
cent and righteous ; it did not act like fury, then call it
self zeal. It always espoused God's honour, and
never kindled upon any thing but in order to a sacri
fice. It sparkled like the coal upon the altar, with
the fervours of piety, the heats of devotion, the sallies
and vibrations of an harmless activity.
( Next, for the lightsome passion of Joy. It was not
that, which now often usurps this name ; that trivial,
vanishing, superficial thing, that only gilds the appre
hension, and plays upon the surface of the soul. It
was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze
of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy, or a
pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and a
severe thing ; the recreation of the judgment, the ju
bilee of reason. It was the result of a real good, suit
ably applied. It commenced upon the solidities of
truth, and the substance of fruition. It did not run
out in voice, or undecent eruptions, but filled the soul,
as God- does the universe, silently and without noise.

14 THE CREATION OF MAN [Disc. I.
It was refreshing, but composed ; like the pleasantness
of youth tempered with the gravity of age ; or the
mirth of a festival managed with the silence of con
templation.,} And, on the other side, for Sorrow. Had any loss
or disaster made but room for grief, it would have
moved according to the severe allowances of prudence,
and the proportions of the provocation. It would not
have sallied out into complaint or loudness, nor spread
itself upon the face, and writ sad stories upon the fore
head. No wringing of the hands, knocking the breast,
or wishing one's self unborn ; all which are but the
ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentation of an
effeminate grief; which speak not so much the great
ness of the misery, as the smallness of the mind.
Tears may spoil the eyes, but not wash away the
affliction. Sighs may exhaust the man, but not eject
the burthen. Sorrow then would have been as silent
as thought, as severe as philosophy. It would have
rested in inward senses, tacit dislikes ; and the whole
scene of it been transacted in sad and silent reflections.
Then again for Hope. Though indeed the fulness
and affluence of man's enjoyments in the state of in
nocence, might seem to leave no place for hope, in
respect of any farther addition, but only of the proro
gation of what already he possessed. Yet doubtless,
God, who made no faculty, but also provided it with a
proper object, upon which it might lay out itself, even
in its greatest innocence, did then exercise man's
hopes with the expectations of a better paradise, or a
more intimate admission to himself. For it is not
imaginable, that Adam could fix upon such poor, thin
enjoyments, as riches, pleasure, and the gayeties of an
animal life. Hope indeed was always the anchor of
the soul, yet certainly it was not to catch or fasten
upon such mud. And if, as the apostle says, no man
hopes for that which he sees, much less could Adam
then hope for such things as he saw through.

Disc. /.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 15
And lastly, for the affection of Fear. It was then
the instrument of caution, not of anxiety ; a guard,
and not a torment to the breast that had it. It is now
indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the soul ; it flies
from a shadow, and makes more dangers than it avoids;
it weakens the judgment, and betrays the succours of
reason ; so hard is it to tremble, and not to err, and to
hit the mark with a shaking hand. Then it fixed
upon him who is only to be feared, God ; and yet
with a filial fear, which at the same time both fears
and loves. It was awe without amazement, dread
without distraction. There was then a beauty even
in this very paleness. It was the colour of devotion,
giving a lustre to reverence, and a gloss to humility.
Thus did the passions then act without any of their
present jars, combats, or repugnances ; all moving
with the beauty of uniformity, and the stillness of
composure. Like a well-governed army, not for fight
ing, but for rank and order. I confess the scripture
does not expressly attribute these several endowments
to Adam in his first estate. But all that I have said,
and much more, may be drawn out of that short apho
rism, God made man upright. Eccl. vii. 29. And since
the opposite weaknesses now infest the nature of man
fallen, if we will be true to the rule of contraries, we
must conclude that those perfections were the lot of
man innocent.
Now from this so exact and regular composure of
the faculties, all moving in their due place, each striking
in its proper time, there arose, by natural consequence,
the crowning perfection of all, a good conscience. For,
as in the body, when the principal parts, as the heart
and liver, do their offices, and all the inferior, smaller
vessels act orderly and duly, there arises a sweet en
joyment upon the whole, which we call health ; so in
the soul, when the supreme faculties of the will and
understanding move regularly, the inferior passions
and affections following, there arises a serenity and

16 THE CREATION OF MAN [DlSC. I.
complacency upon the whole soul, infinitely beyond
the greatest bodily pleasures, the highest quintessence
and elixir of worldly delights. There is in this case a
kind of fragrancy and spiritual perfume upon the con
science ; much like what Isaac spoke of his son's
garments ; that the scent of them was like the smell
of a field which the Lord had blessed. Such a fresh
ness and flavour is there upon the soul, when daily
watered with the actions of a virtuous life. What
soever is pure, is also pleasant.
Having thus surveyed the image of God in the
soul of man, we are not to omit now those charac
ters of majesty that God imprinted upon the body.
He drew some traces of his image upon this also;
as much as a spiritual substance could be pictured
upon a corporeal. As for the sect of the Anthropo-
morphiies, who from hence ascribe to God the figure
of a man, eyes, hands, feel, and the like, they are
too ridiculous to deserve a confutation. They would
seem to draw this impiety from the letter of the scrip
ture sometimes speaking of God in this manner. Ab
surdly ! as if the mercy of scripture expressions ought
to warrant the blasphemy of our opinions ; and not
rather show us, that God condescends to us, only to
draw us to himself, and clothes himself in our like-
igss, only to win us to his own. The practice of the
papists is much of the same nature, in their absurd and
impious picturing of God Almighty. But the wonder
in them is the less, since the image of a Deity may be
a proper object for that, which is but the image of a
religion. But to the purpose : Adam was then no less
glorious in his externals ; he had a beautiful body, as
well as an immortal soul. The whole compound was
like a well-built temple, stately without, and sacred
within. The elements were at perfect union and
agreement in his body ; and their contrary qualities
served not for the dissolution of the compound, but the
variety of the composure. 'Galen, who had no more

Disc. L] in god's IMAGE. 17
divinity than what his physic taught him, barely upon
the consideration of this so exact frame of the body,
challenges any one, upon an hundred years' study, to
find how any the least fibre, or most minute particle,
might be more commodiously placed, either for the ad
vantage of use or comeliness. His stature erect, and
tending upwards to his center ; his countenance ma
jestic and comely, with the lustre of a native beauty,
that scorned the poor assistance of art, or the attempts of
imitation ; his body of so much quickness and agility,
that it did not only contain, but also represent the
soul ; for we might well suppose, that where God did
deposit so rich a jewel, he would suitably adorn the
case. It was a fit work- house for spritely, vivid facul
ties to exercise and exert themselves in ; a fit taber
nacle for an immortal soul, not only to dwell in, but to
contemplate upon, where it might see the world with
out travel, it being a lesser scheme of the creation,
nature contracted, a little cosmography or map of the
universe.,) Neither was the body then subject to dis
tempers, to die by piece-meal, and languish under
coughs, catarrhs, or consumptions. Adam knew no
disease, so long as temperance from the forbidden
fruit secured him. Nature was his physician ; and in
nocence and abstinence would have kept him health
ful to immortality.
Now the use of this point might be various, but at
present it shall be only this ; to remind us of the irre
parable loss that we sustained in our first parents, to
show us of how fair a portion Adam disinherited his
whole posterity by one single prevarication. Take the
picture of a man in the greenness and vivacity of his
youth, and in the latter date and declensions of his
drooping iyears, and you will scarce know it to belong-
to the same person ; there would be more art to dis
cern, than at first to draw it. The same and greater
is the difference between man innocent and fallen.
He is, as it were, a new kind or species ; the plague
3

18 THE CREATION OF MAN [DlSC I
of sin has even altered his nature, and eaten into his
very essentials. The image of God is wiped out, the
creatures have shook off his yoke, renounced his sove
reignty, and revolted from his dominion. Distempers
and diseases have shattered the excellent frame of his
body ; and, by a new dispensation, imrrtortality is
swallowed up of mortality. The same disaster and
decay also has invaded his spirituals ; the passions re
bel, every faculty would usurp and rule ; and there
are so many governors, that there can be no govern
ment. The light within us is become darkness ; and
the understanding, that should be eyes to the blind
faculty of the will, is blind itself, and so brings all the
inconveniences that attend a blind follower under the
conduct of a blind guide. He that would have a clear,
occular demonstration of this, let him reflect upon that
numerous litter of strange, senseless, absurd opinions,
that crawl about the world, to the disgrace of reason,
and the unanswerable reproach of a broken intellect.
The two great perfections, that both adorn and ex
ercise man's understanding, are philosophy and reli
gion : For the first of these ; take it even amongst the
professors of it, where it most flourished, and we shall
find the very first notions of common sense debauched
by them ; for there have been such as have asserted,
that there is no such thing in the world as motion ;
tfiat contradictions may be true. There has not been
wanting one, that has denied snow to be white. Such
a stupidity or wantonness had seized upon the most
raised wits, that it might be doubted, whether the
philosophers or the owls of Athens were the quicker
sighted. But then for religion ; what prodigious,
monstrous, misshapen births has the reason of fallen
man produced ! It is how almost six thousand years,
that far the greatest part of the world has had no
other religion but idolatry ; and idolatry certainly
is the first born of folly, the great and leading paradox ;
nay, the very abridgment and sum total of all absurdi-

Disc. /.] IN GOD'S IMAGE. 19
ties, vj'or is it not strange, that a rational man should
worship an ox, nay, the image of an ox ? That he
should fawn upon his dog ? Bow himself before a cat ?
Adore leeks and garlic, and shed penitential tears at
s the smell of a deified onion ? Yet so did the Egyp-
\ tians, once the famed masters of all arts and learning.
And to go a little farther ; we have yet a stranger in
stance in Isa. xliv. A man hews him down a tree in
the wood, and part of it he burns ; with the residue
thereof he maketh a God. With one part he furnishes
his chimney, with the other his chapel. A strange
thing that the fire must first consume this part, and
then burn incense to that ; as if there was more divin
ity in one end of the stick, than in the other ; or, as if
it could be graved and painted Omnipotent, or the
nails and hammer could give it an apotheosis.) Briefly,
so great is the change, so deplorable the degradation
of our nature, that, whereas before we bore the image
of God, we now retain only the image of men.
In the last place, we learn from hence the excellen
cy of the christian religion, in that it is the great and
only means that God has sanctified and designed to
repair the breaches of humanity, to set fallen man up
on his legs again, to clarify his reason, to rectify his
will, and to compose and regulate his affections. The
whole business of our redemption is, in short, only to
rub over the defaced copy of the creation, to reprint
God's image upon the soul, and, as it were, to set
forth nature in a second and fairer edition.
The recovery of which lost image, as it is God's
pleasure to command, and our duty to endeavour, so
it is in his power only to effect.

DISCOURSE II.*

THE PLEASURES OF RELIGIOUS WISDOM.

PROV. iii. 17.
Her ways are ivays of pleasantness.
The thing, of which these words are affirmed, is
wisdom ; a name by which the Spirit of God was here
pleased to express to us religion, and thereby to tell
the world, what before it was not aware of, and per
haps will not yet believe, that those two great things
that so engross the desires and designs of both the no
bler and ignobler sort of mankind, are to be found in
religion; namely, wisdom and pleasure; and that the
former is the direct way to the latter, as religion is to
both. That pleasure is man's chiefest good (because in
deed it is the perception of good that is properly plea
sure) is an assertion most certainly true, though, under
the common acceptance of it, not only false, but odious ;
for, according to this, pleasure and sensuality pass for
terms equivalent ; and therefore, he that takes it in
this sense alters the subject of the discourse. Sensu
ality is indeed a part, or rather one kind of plea
sure, such an one as it is ; for pleasure, in general,
is the consequent apprehension of a suitable object,
[* " This charming discourse has in it whatever wit and wisdom can
l_ring together."— Tatler, No. 205  Ed.]

Disc. II.'] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 21
suitably applied to a rightly disposed faculty, and so
must be conversant both about the faculties of the
body and of the soul respectively, as being the re
sult of the fruitions belonging to both.
Now amongst those many arguments, used to press
upon men the exercise of religion, I know none that
are like to be so successful, as those that answer and
remove the prejudices that generally possess and bar
up the hearts of men against it ; amongst which there
is none so prevalent in truth, though so little own
ed in pretence, as that it is an enemy to men's plea
sures, that it bereaves them of all the sweets of con
verse, dooms them to an absurd and perpetual mel
ancholy, designing to make the world nothing else
but a great monastery ; with which notion of religion,
nature and reason seem to have great cause to be
dissatisfied. For since God never created any facul
ty, but withal prepared for it a suitable object, and
that in order to its gratification, can we think that
religion was designed only for a contradiction to na
ture ? And with the most irrational tyranny in the
world, to tantalize and tie men up from enjoyment,
in the midst of all the opportunities of enjoyment?
To place men with the furious affections of hunger
and thirst in the very bosom of plenty, and then to
tell them, that the envy of Providence has sealed up
every thing that is suitable, under the character of
unlawful? For certainly, first to frame appetites fit
to receive pleasure, and then to interdict them with
a touch not, taste not, can be nothing else, than only
to give them occasion to prey upon themselves, and
so to keep men under the perpetual torment of an un
satisfied desire ; a thing hugely contnry to the natural
felicity of the creature, and consequently to the wis
dom and goodness of the great Creator.
He therefore that would persuade men to religion,
both with art and efficacy, must found the persuasion
of it upon this, that it interferes not with any rational

22 THE pleasures of [Disc. II.
pleasure, that it bids no body quit the enjoyment of
any one thing that his reason can prove to him ought
to be enjoyed. It is confessed, when through the
cross circumstances of a man's temper or condition,
the enjoyment of a pleasure would certainly expose
him to a greater inconvenience, then religion bids him
to quit it ; that is, it bids him prefer the endurance of
a lesser evil before a greater, and nature itself does no
less. Religion therefore intrenches upon none of our
privileges, invades none of our pleasures ; it may in
deed sometimes command us to change, but never
totally to abjure them.
But it is easily foreseen, that this discourse will in
the very beginning of it be encountered by an argu
ment from experience, and therefore not more obvious
than strong ; namely, that it cannot but be the great
est trouble in the world for a man thus, as it were,
even to shake off himself, and to defy his nature, by a
perpetual thwarting of his innate appetites and desires,
which yet is absolutely necessary to a severe and im
partial prosecution of a course of piety ; nay, and we
have this asserted also by the verdict of Christ him-'
self, who still makes the disciplines of self-denial and
the cross, those terrible blows to flesh and blood, the
indispensable requisites to the being of his disciples ;
all which being so, would not he that should be so
hardy as to attempt to persuade men to piety from
the pleasures of it, be liable to that invective taunt
from all mankind, that the Israelites gave to Moses :
Wilt thou put out the eyes of this people ? Wilt thou
persuade us out of our first notions ? Wilt thou de
monstrate, that there is any delight in a cross, any
comfort in violent abridgments, and, which is the great
est paradox of all, that the highest pleasure is to ab
stain from it ?
It must be confessed, that all arguments whatso
ever against experience are fallacious ; and therefore,
in order to the clearing of the assertion laid down,
I shall premise these two considerations.

Disc. II.~\ RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 23
1. That pleasure is in the nature of it a relative
thing, and so imports a peculiar correspondence to
the state and condition of the person to whom it is
a pleasure. For as those who discourse of atoms,
affirm, that there are atoms of all forms, some round,
some triangular, some square, and the like ; all which
are continually in motion and never settle till they
fall into a fit circumscription or place of the same
figure ; so there are the like great diversities of minds
and objects. Whence it is, that this object striking
upon a mind thus or thus disposed, flies off, and re
bounds without making any impression ; but the same
luckily happening upon another of a disposition, as it
were, framed for it, is presently catched at, and gree
dily clasped into the nearest unions and embraces.
2. The other thing to be considered is this : That
the estate of all men by nature is more or less dif
ferent from that estate, into which the same persons
do, or may pass, by the exercise of that which the
philosophers called Virtue, and into which men are
much more effectually and sublimely translated by
that which we call Grace ; that is, by the overpower
ing operation of God's Spirit ; the difference of which
two estates consists in this ; that in the former, the
sensitive appetites domineer ; in the latter, the supreme
faculty of the soul, called Reason, sways the sceptre,
and acts the whole man above the irregular demands
of appetite and affection.
That the distinction between these two is not a mere
figment, framed only to serve an hypothesis in divinity ;
and that there is no man but is really under one, before
he is under the other, I shall prove, by showing a rea
son why it is so, or rather indeed why it cannot but
be so. And it is this ; because every man in the be
ginning of his life, for several years, is capable only of
exercising his sensitive faculties and desires, the use
of reason not showing itself till about the seventh year
of his age ; and then at length but, as it were, dawn-

24 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
ing iii very imperfect essays and discoveries. Now it
being most evident, that every power grows stronger
and stronger by exercise, is it any wonder at all, when
a man for the space of his first six years, and those the
years of ductility and impression, has been wholly
ruled by the propensions of sense, at that age very ea
ger and impetuous, that then, after all, his reason, be
ginning to exert itself, finds the man prepossessed and
under another power ? So that it has much ado, by
many little steps and gradual conquests, to recover its
prerogative and so to subject the whole man to its dic
tates ; the difficulty of which is not conquered by some
men all their days. And this is one true ground of the
difference between a state of nature and a state of
grace, which some are pleased to scoff at in divinity,
who think that they confute all that they laugh at, not
knowing that it may be solidly evinced by mere reason
and philosophy.
These two considerations being premised, all that
objection levelled against the foregoing assertion is
very easily resolvable.
For there is no doubt, but a man, while he resigns
himself up to the brutish guidance of sense and appe
tite, has no relish at all for the spiritual, refined de
lights of a soul clarified by grace and virtue. The
pleasures of an angel can never be the pleasures of a
hog. But this is the thing that we contend for ; that
a man having once advanced himself to a state of su
periority over the control of his inferior appetites,
finds an infinitely more solid and sublime pleasure in
the delights proper to his reason, than the same person
had ever conveyed to him by the bare ministry of his
senses. His taste is absolutely changed, and therefore
that which pleased him formerly becomes flat and in
sipid to his appetite, now grown more masculine and
severe. For as age and maturity passes a real and a
marvellous change upon the diet and recreations of the
same person, so that no man, at the years and vigour

DlSC. II.~\ RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 25
of thirty, is either fond of sugar-plumbs or' rattles '; in
like manner, when reason, by the assistance of grace,
has prevailed over and out-grown the encroachments
of sense, the delights of sensuality are to 'such an one
but as an hobby-horse would be to a counsellor of state;
or as tasteless as a bundle of hay to a hungry lion.
Every alteration of a man's condition infallibly infers
an alteration of his pleasures.
The Athenians laughed the physiognomist to scorn,
who, pretending to read men's minds in their foreheads,
described Socrates for a crabbed, lustful, proud, ill-na-'
tured person ; they knowing how directly contrary he-
was to that dirty character. But Socrates bid them
forbear laughing at the man, for that he had given
them a most exact account of his nature ;'" but whati
they saw in him so contrary at the present, was from
the conquest that he had got over his natural disposi
tion by philosophy. And now let any one consider,
whether that anger, revenge, wantonness, and ambition,
that were the proper pleasures of Socrates, under his
natural temper, could have at all affected or enamour
ed the mind of the same Socrates, made gentle; chaste, '
and humble, by philosophy.
Aristotle says, that were it possible to put a young
man's eye into an old man's head, he would see as
plainly and clearly as the other ; so could we infuse
the inclinations and principles of a virtuous person in
to him that prosecutes his debauches with the great
est keenness of desire and sense of delight, he would
loath and reject them as heartily, as he now pursues
them. Diogenes, being asked at a feast, why he did
not continue eating as the rest did, answered him that
asked him with another question, Pray why do you
eat? Why, says he, for my pleasure ; why, so, says
Diogenes, do I abstain for my pleasure. And there
fore the vain, the vicious, and luxurious person argues
at an high rate of inconsequence, when he makes his
particular desires^the general measure of other men's
4*

26 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
delights.. But the case is so plain, that I shall not up
braid, any man's understanding, by endeavouring to
give it any farther illustration.
But still, after-. all, I must not deny that the passage
from , a state of nature to a state of virtue is laborious,
and consequently irksome and unpleasant ; and to this
it is, that all the forementioned expressions of our
Saviour do allude. But surely the baseness of one
condition, and the generous excellency of the other, is
a sufficient argument to induce any one to a change.
For as no man would think it a desirable thing to
preserve the itch upon himself, only for the pleasure
of scratching, that attends that loathsome distemper ;
so neither can any man, that would be faithful to his
reason, yield his ear to be bored through by his domi
neering appetites, and so choose to serve them for ever,
only for those poor, thin gratifications of sensuality
that they are able to reward him with. The ascent
up the hill is hard and tedious, but the serenity and
fair prospect at the top is sufficient to incite the la
bour of undertaking it, and to reward it being under
took. But the difference of these two conditions of
men, as the foundation of their different pleasures,
being thus made out, to press men with arguments to
pass from one to the other, is not directly in the way
of this discourse.
Yet before I come to declare positively the pleasures
that are to be found in the ways of religion, one of the
grand duties of which is stated upon repentance ; a
thing expressed to us by the grim names of mortifica
tion, crucifixion, and the like ; and that I may not pro
ceed only upon absolute negations, without some con
cessions, we will see, whether this so harsh, dismal,
and affrighting duty of repentance is so entirely gall,
as to admit of no allay of sweetness, to reconcile it to
the apprehensions of reason and nature.
Now repentance consists properly of two things :
1. Sorrow for sin. 2. Change of life.

DISC. II. J RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 27
1. And first, of sorrow for sin : Usually, the sting
of sorrow is this, that it neither removes nor alters the
thing we sorrow for ; and so is but a kind of reproach
to our reason, which will be sure to accost us with this
dilemma. Either the thing we sorrow for is to be
remedied, or it is not ; if it is, why then do we spend
the time in mourning, which should be spent in an ac
tive applying of remedies ? But if it is not ; then is
our sorrow vain, as tending to no real effect. For no
man can weep his father, or his friend, out of the grave,
or mourn himself out of a bankrupt condition. But
this spiritual sorrow is effectual to one of the greatest
and highest purposes that mankind can be concerned
in. It is a means to avert an impendent wrath, to dis
arm an offended Omnipotence ; and even to fetch a
soul out of the very jaws of hell ; so that the end and
consequence of this sorrow sweetens the sorrow itself ;
and, as Solomon says, in the midst of laughter, the
heart is sorrowful; so in the midst of sorrow here, the
heart may rejoice ; for while it mourns, it reads, that
those that mourn shall be comforted ; and so while the
penitent weeps with one eye, he views his deliverance
with the other. But then for the external expressions
and vent of sorrow ; we know that there is a certain
pleasure in weeping ; it is the discharge of a big and a
swelling grief; of a full and a strangling discontent ;
and therefore he that never had such a burthen upon
his heart, as to give him opportunity thus to ease it,
has one pleasure in this world yet to come.
2. As for the other part of repentance, which is
change of life, this indeed may be troublesome in the
entrance ; yet it is but the first bold onset, the first
resolute violence and invasion upon a vicious habit,
that is so sharp and afflicting. Every impression of
the lancet cuts, but it is the first only that smarts.
Besides, it is an argument hugely unreasonable, to plead
the pain of -passing from a vicious estate, unless it were
proved, that there was none in the continuance un-

28 THE PLEASURES OF [DlSC II.
der it. But surely, when we read of the bondage
and captivity of sinners, we are not entertained only
with the air of words and metaphors ; and instead
of truth, put off with similitudes. Let him that says
it is a trouble to refrain from a debauch, convince us,
that it is not a greater to undergo one ; and that the
confessor did not impose a shrewd penance upon the
drunken man, by bidding him go and be drunk again ;
and that lisping, raging, redness of eyes, and what
is not fit to be named in such an audience, is not
more toilsome, than to be clean, and quiet, and dis
creet, and respected for being so. All the trouble
that is in it, is the trouble of being sound, being
cured, and being recovered. But if there be great
arguments for health, then certainly there are the same
for the obtaining of it ; and so keeping a due pro
portion between spirituals and temporals, we neither
have nor pretend to greater arguments for repentance.
Having thus now cleared off all, that by way of
objection can lie against the truth asserted, by showing
the proper qualification of the subject, to whom only
the tvays of wisdom can be ways of pleasantness ; for
the farther prosecution of the matter in hand, I shall
show what are those properties that so peculiarly set
off and enhance the excellency of this pleasure.
I. The first is, that it is the proper pleasure of that
part of man, which is the largest and most comprehen
sive of pleasure, and that is, his mind ; a substance of
a boundless comprehension. The mind of man is an
image, not only of God's spirituality, but of his infini
ty. It is not like any of the senses, limited to this
or that kind of object ; as the sight intermeddles not
with that which affects the smell ; but with an universal
superintendence it arbitrates upon and takes them in
all. It is (as I may so say) an ocean, into which all
the little rivulets of sensation, both external and internal,
discharge themselves. It is framed by God to receive
all, and more than nature can afford it ; and so to be

Disc. //.] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 29
its own motive to seek for something above nature.
Now this is that part of man, to which the pleasures
of religion properly belong ; and that in a double
respect. 1. In reference to speculation, as it sustains the
name of Understanding. 2. In reference to practice,
as it sustains the name of Conscience.
1. And first for speculation ; the pleasures of which
have been sometimes so great, so intense, so ingross-
ing of all the powers of the soul, that there has been
no room left for any other pleasure. It has so called
together all the spirits to that one work, that there has
been no supply to carry on the inferior operations of
nature. Contemplation feels no hunger, nor is sensible
of any thirst, but of that after knowledge. How fre
quent and exalted a pleasure did David find from his
meditation in the divine law ! All the clay long it
was the theme of his thoughts. The affairs of state
might indeed employ, but it was this only that refresh
ed his mind.
How short of this are the delights of the epicure !
How vastly disproportioned are the pleasures of the
eating, and of the thinking man ! Indeed as different
as the silence of an Archimedes in the study of a prob
lem, and the stillness of a sow at her wash. Nothing
is comparable to the pleasure of an active, and a pre
vailing thought ; a thought prevailing over the difficulty
and obscurity of the object, and refreshing the soul
with new discoveries and images of things ; and there
by extending the bounds of apprehension, and, as it
were, the territories of reason.
Now this pleasure of the speculation of divine things
is advanced upon a double account.
(1.) The greatness. (2.) The newness of the
object. (1.) And first for the greatness of it. It is no less
than the great God himself, and that both in his nature
and his works. For the eye of reason, like that of the

30 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
eagle, directs itself chiefly to the sun, to a glory that
neither admits of a superior nor an equal. Religion
carries the soul to the study of every divine attribute.
It poses it with the amazing thoughts of Omnipo
tence, of a Power able to fetch up such a glorious
fabric, as this of the world, out of the abyss of nothing,
and able to throw it back into the same original nothing
again. It drowns us in the speculation of the divine
Omniscience, that can maintain a steady infallible com
prehension of all events in themselves contingent and
accidental, and certainly know that which does not
certainly exist. It confounds the greatest subtleties of
speculation with the riddles of God's Omnipresence,
that can spread a single individual substance through
all spaces, and yet without any commensuration of
parts to any, or circumscription within any, though to
tally in every one. And then for his Eternity ; which
nonplusses the strongest and clearest conception, to
comprehend how one single act of duration should
measure all periods and portions of time, without any
of the distinguishing parts of succession. Likewise
for his Justice ; which shall prey upon the sinner for
ever, satisfying itself by a perpetual miracle, rendering
the creature immortal in the midst of the flames, al
ways consuming, but never consumed. With the like
wonders we may entertain our speculations from his
Mercy, his beloved, his triumphant attribute ; an attri
bute, if it were possible, something more than infinite;
for even his justice is so, and his mercy transcends that.
Lastly, we may contemplate upon his supernatural,
astonishing works, particularly in the reparation of the
same numerical body, by a re-union of all the scattered
parts, to be at length disposed of into an estate of eter
nal wo or bliss ; as also the greatness and strangeness
of the beatific vision, how a created eye should be so
fortified, as to bear all those glories that stream from
the fountain of uncreated light, the meanest expression
©f whicJa light is, that it is unexpressible. Now what

Disc. II.~] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 31
great and high objects are these, for a rational contem
plation to busy itself upon ! Heights that scorn the
reach of our prospect, and depths in which the tallest
reason will never touch the bottom ; yet surely the
pleasure arising from thence is great and noble ; foras
much as they afford perpetual employment to the in-
quisitiveness of human reason, and so are large enough
for it to take its full range in ; which, when it has
sucked and drained the utmost of an object, naturally
lays it aside, and neglects it as a dry and empty thing.
(2.) As the things belonging to religion entertain
our speculation with great objects, so they entertain it
also with new ; and novelty, we know, is the great
parent of pleasure ; upon which account it is that men
are so much pleased with variety, and variety is noth
ing else but a continued novelty. The Athenians,
who were the most diligent improvers of their reason,
made it their whole business to hear or to tell some
new thing ; for the truth is, newness, especially in great
matters, was a worthy entertainment for a searching
mind ; it was (as I may so say) an high taste, fit for
the relish of an Athenian reason. And thereupon the
mere unheard-of strangeness of Jesus and the resurrec
tion made them desirous to hear it discoursed of to
them again. But how would it have employed their
searching faculties, had the mystery of the Trinity and
the incarnation, and the whole economy of man's re
demption, been explained to them ? For how could
it ever enter into the thoughts of reason, that a satis
faction could be paid to an infinite Justice ; or, that
two natures, so inconceivably different as the human
and divine, could unite into one person ? The know
ledge of these things could derive from nothing else
but pure revelation, and consequently must be purely
new to the highest discourses of mere nature. Now
that the newness of an object so exceedingly strikes
the mind, appears from one consideration, that every
thing pleases more in expectation than fruition ; and

32 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
expectation supposes a thing as yet new, the hoped-
for discovery of which is the pleasure that entertains
the inquiring mind ; whereas actual discovery, as it
were, rifles and deflowers the freshness of the object,
and so for the most part makes it cheap and contempt
ible. 2. In the next place, religion is a pleasure to the
mind, as it respects practice, and so sustains the name
of conscience. And conscience undoubtedly is the
great magazine of all those pleasures that can afford
any solid refreshment to the soul. For when this is
serene and absolving, then properly a man enjoys all
things, and what is more, himself; for that he must
do, before he can enjoy any thing else. But it is only
a pious life, led exactly by the rules of a severe reli
gion, that can authorize a man's conscience to speak
comfortably to him ; it is this that must word the sen
tence, before the conscience can pronounce it, and
then it will do it with majesty and authority ; it will
not whisper, but. proclaim, a jubilee to the mind ; it
will not drop, but pour in oil upon the wounded heart.
And is there any pleasure comparable to that which
springs from hence ? Not only greater than all other
pleasures, but may also serve instead of them ; for they
only affect the mind -in transitu, in the pitiful narrow
compass of actual fruition ; whereas that of conscience
feeds it a long time after with durable, lasting re
flections. And thus much for the first ennobling property of the
pleasure belonging to religion ; that it is the pleasure
of the mind ; and that, both as it relates to specula
tion, and is called the understanding, and as it relates
to practice, and is called the conscience.
II. The second ennobling property of it is, that it
is such a pleasure as never satiates ; for it properly
affects the spirit, and a spirit feels no weariness, as
being privileged from the causes of it. But can the
epicure say so of any of the pleasures that he so much

Disc. //.] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 33
dotes upon ? Do they not expire, while they satisfy ;
and, after a few minutes' refreshment, determine in
loathing and unquietness ? How short is the interval
between a pleasure and a burden ! How undiscernible
the transition from one to the other ! Pleasure dwells
no longer upon the appetite, than the necessities of
nature, which are quickly and easily provided for ; and
then all that follows is a load and an oppression. Every
morsel to a satisfied hunger is only a new labour to a
tired digestion. Every draught to him that has quench
ed his thirst is but a farther quenching of nature ; a
provision for rheum and diseases, a drowning of the
quickness and activity of the spirits.
He that prolongs his meals, and sacrifices his time,
as well as his other conveniences, to his luxury, how
quickly does he out-sit his pleasure ! And then, how
is all the following time bestowed upon ceremony and
surfeit ; till at length, after a long fatigue of eating,
and drinking, and babbling, he concludes the great work
of dining genteelly, and so makes a shift to rise from
table, that he may lie down upon his bed ; where, af
ter he has slept himself into some use of himself, by
much ado he staggers to his table again, and there
acts over the same brutish scene ; so that he passes
his whole life in a dozed condition between sleeping
and waking, with a kind of drowsiness upon his senses ;
which, what pleasure it can be, is hard to conceive ;
all that is of it, dwells upon the tip of his tongue,
and within the compass of his palate : a worthy prize
for a man to purchase with the loss of his time, his
reason, and himself.
Nor is that man less deceived, that thinks to main
tain a constant tenure of pleasure, by a continual pursuit
of sports and recreations ; for it is most certainly true
of all these things, that as they refresh a man when he
is weary, so they weary him when he is refreshed;
which is an evident demonstration that God never de
signed the use of them to be continual, by putting such
5

34 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
an emptiness in them as should so quickly fail and lurch
the expectation.
The most voluptuous person breathing, were he but
tied to follow his hawks, and his hounds, his dice and
his courtships, every dav, would find it the greatest
torment that could befall him ; he would fly to the mines
and the gallies for his recreation, and to the spade and
the mattock for a diversion from the misery of a con
tinual unintermitted pleasure.
But, on the contrary, the Providence of God has so
ordered the course of things, that there is no action,
the usefulness of which has made it the matter of duty
and of a profession, but a man may bear the continual
pursuit of it without loathing or satiety. The same shop
and trade, that employs a man in his youth, employs
him also in his age. Every morning he rises fresh to
his hammer and his anvil ; he passes the day singing ;
custom has naturalized his labour to him ; his shop is
his element, and he cannot with any enjoyment of
himself live out of it. Whereas no custom can make
the painfulness of a debauch easy or pleasing, since
nothing can be pleasant that is unnatural. But now,
if God has interwoven such a pleasure with the works
of our ordinary calling, how much superior and more
refined must that be, that arises from the survey of a
well governed life ? Surely, as much as Christianity is
nobler than a trade.
And then, for the constant freshness of it ; it is such
a pleasure as can never cloy or overwork the mind ;
for surely no man was ever weary of thinking, much
less of thinking that he had done well or virtuously,
that he had conquered such and such a temptation, or
offered violence to any of his exorbitant desires. This
is a delight that grows and improves under thought
and reflection, and while it exercises, does also endear
itself to the mind, at the same time employing and in
flaming the meditations. All pleasures that affect the
body must needs weary, because they transport ; and

Disc. //.] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 35
all transportation is a violence, and no violence can
be lasting, but determines upon the falling of the spi
rits, which are not able to keep up that height of mo
tion that the pleasure of the senses raises them to ;
and therefore how inevitably does an immoderate laugh
ter end in a sigh ; which is only nature's recovering
itself after a force done to it. But the religious plea
sure of a well disposed mind, moves gently, and there
fore constantly. It does not affect by rapture and
ecstacy, but is like the pleasure of health, which is still
and sober, yet greater and stronger than those that call
up the senses and grosser and more affecting impres
sions. God has given no man a body as strong as his
appetites ; but has corrected the boundlessness of his
voluptuous desires, by stinting his strength, and con
tracting his capacities.
But to look upon those pleasures also, that have an
higher object than the body ; as those that spring from
honour and grandeur of condition ; yet we shall find,
that even these are not so fresh and constant, but the
mind can nauseate them, and quickly feel the thinness
of a popular breath. Those that are so fond of ap
plause while they pursue it, how little do they taste
it when they have it ? Like lightning, it only flashes
upon the face, and is gone, and it is well if it does not
hurt the man. But for greatness of place, though it is
fit and necessary that some persons in the world should
be in love with a splendid servitude ; yet certainly they
must be much beholden to their own fancy, that they
can be pleased at it. For he that rises up early, and
goes to bed late, only to receive addresses, to read and
answer petitions, is really as much tied in his freedom,
as he that waits all that time to present one. And
what pleasure can it be to be incumbered with depen
dencies, thronged with petitioners ; and those perhaps
sometimes all suitors for the same thing ; whereupon
all but one will be sure to depart grumbling, because
they miss of what they think their due ; and even that

36 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
one scarce thankful, because he thinks he has no more
than his due. In a word, if it is a pleasure to be en
vied and shot at, to be maligned standing, and to be
despised falling, to endeavour that which is impossible,
Avhich is to please all, and to suffer for not doing it ;
then is it a pleasure to be great, and to be able to dis
pose of men's fortunes and preferments.
But farther, to proceed from hence to yet an higher
degree of pleasure, indeed the highest on this side that
of religion, the pleasure of friendship and conversation.
Friendship must confessedly be allowed the flower and
crown of all temporal enjoyments. Yet has not this
also its flaws and its dark side ? For is not my friend
a man ; and is not friendship subject to the same mor
tality that men are ? And in case a man loves, and is
not loved again, does he not think that he has cause to
hate as heartily, and ten times more eagerly, than ever
he loved ? And then to be an enemy, and once to
have been a friend, does it not imbitter the rupture,
and aggravate the calamity ? But admitting that my
friend continues so to the end ; yet in the mean time,
is he all perfection ? Has he not humours to be en
dured, as well as kindnesses to be enjoyed ? And
am I sure to smell the rose, without sometimes feel
ing the thorn ?
And then lastly for company ; though it may re
prieve a man from his melancholy, yet it cannot se
cure him from his conscience, nor from sometimes
being alone. And what is all that a man enjoys,
from a week's, month's, or year's converse, compa
rable to what he feels for one hour, when his con
science shall take him aside, and rate him by himself?
In short, run over the whole circle of all earthly
pleasures, and I dare affirm, that had not God se
cured a man a solid pleasure from his own actions,
after he had rolled from one to another, and enjoyed
them all, he would be forced to complain, that either
they were not pleasures, or that pleasure was not
satisfaction.

Disc. //.] RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 37
III. The third ennobling property of the pleasure
that accrues to a man from religion, is, that it is such
as is in no body's power, but only in his that has
it ; so that he who has the property may be also sure
of the perpetuity ; and tell me so of any outward
enjoyment ? We are generally at the mercy of men's
rapine, avarice, and violence, whether we shall be
happy or no. For if I build my felicity upon my
estate or reputation, I am happy as long as the ty
rant or the railer will give me leave to be so. But
when my concernment takes up no more room or
compass than myself; then so long as I know where
to breathe, and to exist, I know also where to be hap
py ; for I know I may be so in my own breast, in the
court of my own conscience ; where, if I can but pre
vail with myself to be innocent, I need bribe neither
judge nor officer to be pronounced so. The pleasure
of the religious man, is such an one as he carries about
in his bosom, without alarming either the eye or envy
of the world. A man putting all his pleasures into
this One, is like a traveller's putting all his goods into
one jewel; the value is the same, and the convenience
greater. There is nothing that can raise a man to that gene
rous absoluteness of condition, as neither to cringe,
to fawn, or to depend meanly, but that which gives
him that happiness within himself, for which men
depend upon others. For surely I need salute no
great man's threshold, sneak to none of his friends
or servants, to speak a good word for me to my con
science. It is a noble and a sure defiance of a great
malice, backed with a great interest, which yet can
have no advantage of a man, but from his own ex
pectations of something that is without himself. But
if I can make my duty my delight ; if 1 can feast and
caress my mind with worthy speculations or virtuous
practices ; let greatness and malice vex and abridge
me if they can ; my pleasures are as free as my will ;

38 THE PLEASURES OF [Disc. II.
no more to be controlled than the unlimited range of
my thoughts and desires.
Nor is this kind of pleasure only out of the reach
of any outward violence, but even those things also
that make a much closer impression upon us, which
are the irresistible decays of nature, have yet no influ
ence at all upon this. For when age itself, which, of
all things in the world, will not be baffled, shall begin
to remind us of our mortality, by aches, deadness of
limbs, and dulness of senses; yet then the pleasure of
the mind shall be in its full youth and freshness. A
palsie may as well shake an oak, or a fever dry up a
fountain, as either of them dry up or impair the delight
of conscience. For it lies within, it grows into the
very substance of the soul, so that it accompanies a
man to his grave ; he never outlives it, because he can
not outlive himself.
And thus I have endeavoured to describe the excel
lency of that pleasure that is to be found in the ways
of a Religious Wisdom, by those excellent properties
that do attend it; which, whether they reach the de
scription that has been given them, or no, every man
may convince himself, by the best of demonstrations,
which is his own trial.
Now, from all this discourse, this I am sure is a
most natural and direct consequence, that if the ways
of Religion are ways of pleasantness, that such as are
not so, are not truly and properly ways of Religion.
Upon which ground it is easy to see what judgment is
to be passed upon all those affected, uncommanded, ab
surd austerities, so much prized and exercised by some
of the Romish profession. Pilgrimages, going barefoot,
hair-shirts, and whips, with other such Gospel artillery,
are their only helps to devotion ; things never enjoined,
either by the prophets under the Jewish, or by the apos
tles under the christian economy, who yet surely un
derstood the proper and the most efficacious instru
ments of piety, as well as any confessor or friar of all
the order of St. Francis, or any casuist whatsoever.

Disc. II.~\ RELIGIOUS WISDOM. 39
It seems, that with them a man sometimes cannot
be a penitent, unless he also turns a vagabond, and
foots it to Jerusalem, or wanders over this or that part
of the world to visit the shrine of such or such a pre
tended saint, though perhaps, in his life, ten times
more ridiculous than themselves. Thus, that which was
Cain's curse, is become their Religion. He that thinks
to expiate a sin by going barefoot, only makes one
folly the atonement for another. Paul indeed was
scourged and beaten by the Jews, but we never read
that he beat or scourged himself ; and if they think
that his keeping under of his body imports so much,
they must first prove, that the body cannot be kept
under by a virtuous mind, and that tbe mind cannot be
made virtuous but by a scourge, and consequently, that
thongs and whipcord are means of grace, and things
necessary to salvation. The truth is, if men's religion
lies no deeper than their skin, it is possible that they
may scourge themselves into very great improvements.
But they will find that bodily exercise touches not
the soul ; and that neither pride, lust, nor covetousness,
nor any other vice, was ever mortified by corporeal
disciplines. 'Tis not the back, but the heart, that must
bleed for sin ; and consequently, that in this whole
course they are like men out of their way ; let them
lash on never so fast, they are not at all the nearer to
their journey's end ; and howsoever they deceive them
selves and others, they may as well expect to bring a
cart, as a soul to heaven by such means. What ar
guments they have to beguile poor, simple, unstable
souls with, I know not ; but surely the practical, casu
istical, that is, the vital part of their religion, savours
very little of spirituality.
And now upon the result of all, I suppose, that to
exhort men to be religious, is only, in other worJs, to
exhort them to take their pleasure ; a pleasure high,
rational, and angelical ; embased with no appe. dy-.t
sting, no consequent loathing, no remorses, or bitter

40 RELIGIOUS WISDOM. [Disc. tl.
farewells : but such an one, as being honey in the
mouth, never turns to gall or gravel in the belly ; a
pleasure made for the soul, and the soul for that ; suit
able to its spirituality, and equal to all its capacities.
Such an one as grows fresher upon enjoyment, and
though continually fed upon, yet is never devoured ;
a pleasure that a man may call as properly his own, as
his soul and his conscience ; neither liable to accident,
nor exposed to injury. It is the foretaste of heaven,
and the earnest of eternity. In a word, it is such an
one, as being begun in grace, passes into glory, bless
edness, and immortality, and those pleasures thaf nei
ther eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into
the heart of man to conceive.

DISCOURSE III.

FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED.

MATTH. vii. 26, 27.
_*
And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and
doth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man,
which built his house upon the sand ; and the rain
descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew,
and beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was
the fall of it.
It seems to have been all along the prime art of the
great enemy of souls, not being able to root the sense
of religion out of men's hearts, yet by his delusions to
defeat the design of it upon their lives, and, either by
empty notions or false persuasions, to take them off
from the main business of religion, which is duty and
obedience, by bribing the conscience to rest satisfied
with something less ; a project extremely suitable to
the corrupt nature of man, whose chief, or rather sole
quarrel to religion is the severity of its precepts, and
the difficulty of their practice ; so that, although it is
as natural for him to desire to be happy as to breathe,
yet he had rather miss of happiness than seek it in the
way of holiness. Upon which account, nothing speaks
so home to the very inmost desires of his soul, as those
opinions, which would persuade him that it may be
well with him hereafter, without any necessity of his
6

42 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [DlSC. III.
living well here ; which great mystery of iniquity being
managed by the utmost skill of the tempter, and gree
dily embraced by a man's own treacherous affections,
lies at the bottom of all false religions, and eats out
the very heart and vitals of the true. For in the strength
of this, some hope to be saved by believing well ; some
by meaning well ; some by paying well; and some by
shedding a few insipid tears, and uttering a few hard
words against those sins which they have no other
controversy with, but that they were so unkind as to
leave the sinner before he was willing to leave them.
For all this men can well enough submit to, as not
forcing them to abandon any one of their beloved lusts.
And therefore they will not think themselves hardly
dealt with, though you require faith of them, if you
will but dispense with good works. They will abound
and even overflow with good intentions, if you will
allow them in quite contrary actions. And you shall
not want for sacrifice, if that may compound for obe
dience ; nor lastly, will they grudge to find money, if
some body else will find merit. But to live well, and
to do well, are things of too hard a digestion.
Accordingly, our Saviour, who well knew all these
false hopes and fallacious reasonings of the heart of
man, which is never so subtle as when it would de
ceive itself, tells his hearers, that all these little, tri
fling inventions will avail them nothing ; and that in
the great concern of souls, all that is short of a good
life is nothing but trick and evasion, froth and folly ;
and consequently that if they build upon such deceitful
grounds, and with such slight materials, they can ex
pect no other, than, after all their cost and pains, to
have their house fall upon their heads, and so perish
in the ruin. And with this terrible application he
concludes his divine discourse from the mount.
The words of the text being too plain to need any
nice explication, I shall manage the discussion of them
in these four particulars ; in showing,

DlSC. III.'] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 43
First, The reasons upon which I conclude practice,
in the great business of a man's eternal happiness, to
be the surest foundation to build upon.
Secondly, The false foundations upon which many
build, and accordingly, in time of trial, miscarry.
Thirdly, The causes why such miscarry, and fall
away in time of trial or temptation.
Fourthly, Wherein the fatal greatness of their fall
consists. And to show the reasons why practice is the surest
foundation, (still supposing it bottomed upon the merits
of Christ) for a man to build his hopes of salvation
upon ; I shall mention three.
First, Because, according to the ordinary economy
of God's working upon the hearts of men, nothing but
practice can change our corrupt nature ; and practice
continued, and persevered in, by the grace of God, will.
We all acknowledge, (that is, all who are not wise
above the articles of our church,) that there is an uni
versal stain upon man's nature, that does incapacitate
him for the fruition and pure converse of God ; the
removal of which cannot be effected, but by introducing
the contrary habit of holiness, which shall by degrees
purge out the other. And the only way to produce a
habit is by the frequent repetition of congenial actions.
Every pious action leaves a certain tincture, or dispo
sition upon the soul, which being seconded by actions
of the same nature, grows at length into an habit, or
quality, of the force of a second nature.
I confess the habit of holiness, finding no principle
of production in a nature wholly corrupt, must needs
be produced by supernatural infusion, and consequent
ly proceed, not from acquisition, but gift. It must be
brought into the soul, it cannot grow out of it. But
then we must remember that excellent rule of the
schools, that habitus infusi obtinentur per modum ac-
quisitorum. It is indeed a supernatural effect, but (as
I may so speak) wrought in a natural way. The Spirit

44 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
of God, imitating the course of nature, even then, when
it works something above it.
A person in the state of unregeneracy cannot, by the
sole strength of his most improved performances, ac
quire an habit of true grace or holiness. But, as in
the rain, it is not the bare water that fructifies, but a
secret spirit, or nitre, descending with it, that has this
virtue ; so in the duties of a meer natural man, there
is sometimes a hidden, divine influence, that keeps
pace with those actions, and together with each per
formance, imprints a holy disposition upon the soul,
which, after a long series of the like actions, influenced
by the same divine principle, comes at length to be of
that force and firmness as to out-grow the contrary
qualities of inherent corruption.
We have an illustration of this, though not a parallel
instance, in natural actions, which by frequency imprint
a permanent facility of acting upon the agent. God
liness is in some sense an art or mystery, and we all
know that it is practice chiefly, that makes tbe artist.
Secondly, Action is the highest perfection, and draw
ing forth the utmost vigor and activity of man's nature.
God is pleased to vouchsafe the best that he can give,
only to the best that we can do. And action is un
doubtedly our best, because the most difficult ; for, in
such cases, worth and difficulty are inseparable com
panions. The properest and most raised conception
that we have of God, is, that he is a pure Act, a per
petual Motion. And next to him, in the rank of beings,
are the angels, as approaching nearest to him in this
perfection, being all flame and agility, ministering spi
rits, always busy and upon the wing, for the execution
of his great commands. And indeed doing is nothing
else but the noblest improvement of being. It is not
(as some nice speculators make it) an airy, diminutive
entity, or accident, distinct from the substance of the
soul ; but to define it more suitably to itself, and to the
soul too, action is properly the soul in its best posture.

Disc. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 45
Thirdly, The main drift and design of religion is
the active part of it. Profession is only the badge of a
Christian, belief the beginning, but practice is the na
ture, and custom the perfection. For it is this, which
translates Christianity from a bare notion into a real
business ; from useless speculations into substantial du
ties ; and from an idea in the brain into an existence
in the life. An upright conversation is the bringing of
the general theorems of religion into the particular in
stances of solid experience ; and if it were not for this,
religion would exist no where but in the Bible. The
grand deciding question, at the last day, will be, not
What have you said ? or believed ? but What have you
done more than others ?
But that the very life of religion consists in practice,
will appear yet further from those subordinate ends to
which it is designed in this world, and which are as
really, though not as principally, the purpose of it, as
the utmost attainment of the beatific vision ; and these
are two.
I. The honouring of God before the world. God
will not have his worship, like his nature, invisible.
Next to authority itself, is the manifestation of it ; and
to be acknowledged is something more than to be obey
ed. For what is sovereignty unknown, or majesty un
observed ? What glory were it for the sun to direct
the affairs, if he did not also attract the eyes of the
world? It is his open and universal light, more than
his occult influence, that we admire him for. Religion,
if confined to the heart, is not so much entertained,
as imprisoned ; that indeed is to be its fountain, but
not its channel. The water arises in one place, but
it streams in another ; and fountains would not be
so much valued if they did not produce rivers.
One great end of religion is to publish God's sove
reignty, and there is no such way to cause men to
glorify our heavenly Father, as by causing our light
to shine before them ; which, 1 am sure, it cannot do,

46 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
but as it beams through our good works. When a
man leads a pious life, every hour he lives is virtu
ally an act of worship. But if inward grace is not
drawn forth into outward practice, men have no in
spection into our hearts to discern it there. And let
this be fixed upon as a standing principle, that it is
not possible for us to honour God before men, but
only by those acts of worship that are observable by
men. It is our faith indeed that recognises him for
our God, but it is our obedience only, that declares
him to be our Lord.
II. The other end of religion in this world is the
mutual advantage of mankind in the way of society.
And herein did the admirable wisdom and goodness
of God appear, that he was pleased to contrive such
an instrument to govern, as might also benefit, the
world. God planted religion amongst men as a tree
of life ; which, though it was to spring upwards di
rectly to himself, yet it was to spread its branches to
the benefit of all below.
There is hardly any necessity or convenience of man
kind, but what is in a large measure served and pro
vided for by this great blessing (as well as business)
of the world, Religion. And he who is a Christian, is
not only a better man, but also a better neighbour, a
better subject, and a truer friend, than he that is not
so. For was ever any thing more for the good of man
kind, than to forgive injuries, to love and caress our
mortal adversaries, and instead of our enemy, to hate
only our revenge ?
Of such a double, yet benign aspect, is Christianity,
both to God and man ; like incense, while it ascends
to heaven, it perfumes all about it ; at the same time
both instrumental to God's worship, and the worship
per's refreshment : as it holds up one hand in supplica
tion, so it reaches forth the other in benefaction.
But now, if it be one great end of religion thus to
contribute to the benefit of society, surely it must needs

Disc. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 47
consist in the active piety of our lives, not in empty
thoughts and fruitless persuasions. For what can one
man be the better for what another thinks or believes ?
When a poor man begs an alms of me, can / believe
my bread into his mouth, or my money into his hand ?
Believing, without doing, is a very cheap, and easy,
but withal a very worthless way of being religious.
I now proceed to show those false and sandy foun
dations which many venture to build upon, and are
accordingly deceived by ; which, though they are ex
ceedingly various, and, according to the multiplicity of
men's tempers, businesses, and occasions, almost in
finite, and like the sand mentioned in my text, not
only infirm, but numberless also ; yet according to the
best of my poor judgment, I shall reduce them to
these three heads.
The First of which is a naked, unoperative faith.
Ask some upon what grounds they look to be saved,
and they will answer, because they firmly believe, that
through the merits of Christ their sins are forgiven
them. But since it is hard for a man in his right wits
to be confident of a thing which he does not at all
know, such as are more cautious will tell you further,
that to desire to believe is to believe, and to desire to
repent is to repent. ******
But because the poison of this opinion does so easily
enter, and so strangely intoxicate, I shall presume to
give an andidote against it in this one observation,
namely, that all along the scripture, where justification
is ascribed to faith alone, there the word faith is still
used by a metonymy of the antecedent for the conse
quent, and does not signify abstractedly a meer per
suasion, but the obedience of a holy life performed in
the strength of such a persuasion. Not that this justi
fies meritoriously by any inherent worth in itself, but
instrumentally as a condition appointed by God, upon
the performance of which he freely imputes to us
Christ's righteousness, which is the sole, proper, and
formal cause of our justification.

48 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [DlSC. III.
******* * * *
The Second false ground, which some build upon, is
a fond reliance upon the goodness of their heart, and
the honesty of their intention ; a profitable and there
fore a very prevailing fallacy, and such a one as the
devil seldom uses but with success ; it being one of his
old and long experimented fetches, by the pretences of
a good heart, to supplant the necessity of a good life.
But to allege the honesty of the mind against the
charge of an evil course, is a protestation against the
fact, which does not excuse, but enhance its guilt. As
it would look like a very strange and odd commenda
tion of a tree to apologize for the sourness of its fruit,
by pleading that all its goodness lay in the root.
But in the discourses of reason, such is the shortness
of its reach, that it seldom suggests arguments a priori
for any thing, but by an humble gradation creeps from
the effects up to the cause, because these first strike
the senses ; and therefore St. James speaks as good
philosophy as divinity when he says, Show me thy
faith by thy works. Every action being the most live
ly portraiture of its efficient principle, as the. com
plexion is the best comment upon the constitution ; for
in natural productions there is no hypocrisy.
Only we must observe here, that good and evil ac
tions bear a very different relation to their respective
principles. As it is between truth and falsehood in
argumentation, so it is between good and evil in mat
ters of practice. For though from an artificial contri
vance of false premises may emerge a true conclusion,
yet from true premises cannot ensue a false ; so, though
an evil heart may frame itself to the doing of an action
in its kind good, yet a renewed,' sanctified principle
cannot of itself design actions really vicious. The
reason of which is, because the former, in such a case,
acts upon a principle of dissimulation ; and no man by
dissembling affects to appear worse than he is, but bet
ter. But all this while, I speak not of a single action,

DISC III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 49
but of a course of acting ; for a pious man may do an
evil action upon temptation or surprize, but not by the
tenour of his standing principles. But when a man's
sin is his business and the formed purpose of his life;
and his piety shrinks only into meaning and intention ;
when he tells me his heart is right with God, while his
hand is in my pocket, he upbraids my reason, and
outfaces the common principles of natural discourse
with an impudence equal to the absurdity.
This therefore, I affirm, that he who places his re
ligion in his meaning, has fairly secured himself against
a discovery in case he should have none, but yet, for
all that, shall at the last find his portion with those
who indeed have none. And the truth is, those who
are thus intentionally pious, do in a very ill and un
toward sense verify that philosophical maxim, that
what they so much pretend to be first in their inten
tion, is always last (if at all) in the execution.
The Third and last false ground I shall mention,
upon which some men build to their confusion, is
party and singularity. If an implicit faith be (as
some say) the property of a Roman catholic, then, I
am sure, popery may be found, where the name of
papist is abhorred. For what account can some give
of their religion, or of that assurance of their salva
tion (which they so much boast of) but that they
have wholly resigned themselves up to the guidance
of those who have the front and boldness to usurp
the title of the godly. To be of such a party, of
such a name, nay, of such a sneaking look, is to
some the very spirit and characteristic mark of Chris
tianity. See what St. Paul himself built upon before his
conversion to Christ: / was after the strictest sect of
our religion a Pharisee. So that it was the reputa
tion of the sect, upon which St. Paul then embark
ed his salvation. Now the nature of this fraternity
we may learn from the origination of their name
7

50 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [DlSC. 111.
Pharisee ; it being derived from _£>1_D parasch, separa-
vit, discrevit, whence in Greek they were called
'^dqxogiOfisvoi, separati. So that the words amount to
this, that St. Paul, before he was a Christian, was
a rigid separatist.
But singularity is not sincerity, though too often
and mischievously mistaken for it ; and as an house
built upon the sand is likely to be ruined by storms, so
aa house built out of the road is exposed to the invasion
of robbers, and wants both the convenience and assis
tance of society. Christ is not therefore called the
corner stone in the spiritual building, as if he intended
that his church should consist only of corners, or be
driven into them. There is a by-path as well as a
broad way to destruction. And it both argues the na
ture, and portends the doom of chaff, upon agitation, to
separate and divide from the wheat. But to such as
venture their eternal interest upon such a bottom, I shall
only suggest these two words.
1. That admitting, but not granting, that the party
which they adhere to, may be truly pious ; yet the pie
ty of the party cannot sanctify its proselytes. A church
may be properly called holy, when yet that holiness
does not diffuse itself to each member ; the reason of
which is, because the whole may receive denomination
from a quality inherent only in some of its parts. Com
pany may occasion, but it cannot transfuse holiness.
No man's righteousness, but Christ's alone, can be
imputed to another. To rate a man by the nature of
his companions, is a rule, frequent indeed, but not in
fallible. Judas was as much a wretch amongst the
apostles, as amongst the priests ; and therefore it is but
a poor argument for a man to derive his saintship from
the virtues of the society he belongs to, and to conclude
himself no weed, only because he grows amongst the
corn. 2. Such an adhesion to a party carries in it a strong
tang of the rankest of all ill qualities, spiritual pride.
There are two things natural almost to all men.

Disc. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 51
First. A desire of pre-eminence in any perfection,
but especially religious. Secondly. A spirit of opposi
tion or contradiction to such as are not of their own
mind or way. Now both these are eminently gratified
by a man's listing himself of a party in religion. And
I doubt not but some are more really proud of the af
fected sordidness of a pretended mortification, than
others of the greatest affluence and splendor of life ;
and that many, who call the^execution of law^ersecw-
tion, do yet suffer it with an higher relish of pride, than
others can inflict it. For it is not true zeal rising from an
hearty concernment for religion, but an ill, restless, cross
humour, which is provoked with smart, and quickened
with opposition. The godly party is little better than
a contradiction in the adjunct ; for he who is truly god
ly, is humble and peaceable, and will neither make, nor
be of a party, according to the common sense of that
word. Let such pretenders therefore suspect the sand-
iness and hollowness of their foundation, and know,
that such imitators of Corah, Dathan, and Abiram,
build upon the same ground upon which they stood,
and into which they sunk. And certainly that man's
condition is very unsafe, who accounts his sin his per
fection, and so makes the object of his repentance the
ground of his salvation.
And thus I have discovered some of those false
grounds, upon which many think themselves in the di
rect way to life and happiness, while God knows they
are in the high and broad road to perdition.
Pass we now to show whence it is that such ill
founded structures are, upon tryal, sure to fall. For
the demonstration of which we must observe, that to
the violent dissolution of any thing two things concur.
First, an assault from without. Secondly, an inherent
weakness within. One is the active, the other the
passive principle of every change.
As for the first of these, the opposition from without.
It Gomes from the 6 novngos, the true common enemy, the

52 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
implacable, insatiable devourer of souls, the devil ; who
will be sure to plant his engines of battery against every
spiritual building which does but look towards heaven.
The opposition he makes, our Saviour here emphatically
describes by the winds blowing, the rain descending,
and the floods coming, which is not an insignificant
rhetorication of the same thing by several expressions,
(like some pulpit bombast made only to measure an
hour-glass,) but an exact, description of those three
methods, by which this assault of the devil prevails
and becomes victorious.
First. It is sudden and unexpected. The devil usual
ly comes upon the soul as he fell from heaven, like
lightning. And he shows no small policy by his so
doing ; for quickness prevents preparation, and so ener
vates opposition. It is observed of Ccesar, that he did
plurima & maxima bella sold celeritate conficere : so
that almost in all his expeditions he seldom came to
any place, but his coming was before the report of it.
And we shall find, that the Roman eagles owed most
of their great conquests as much to their swiftness as
to their force. And the same is here the devil's method
in his warfare against souls. Upon which account
also the same character that Tully gave the foremen-
tioned Ccesar in his epistles to Atticus, may much more
fitly agree to him, that he is monstrum horribile celeri-
tatis #• vigilantice. He flies to his prey, he fetches his
blow quick and sure. He can shoot a temptation in a
glance, and convey the poison of his suggestions quick
er than the agitation of thought, or the strictures of
fancy. It is the sudden trip in wrestling that fetches
a man to the ground.
Thus St. Peter, that giant in faith, was shamefully
foiled by a sudden, though weak assault. While he
sits in the high priest's hall warming himself and think
ing nothing, one confounds him with this quick unex
pected charge, Thou also ivast with Jesus of Galilee.
The surprize of the onset prevented his deliberating

DiSC. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 53
powers from rallying together those succours of habit
ual grace, which, being alarmed by a more gradual ap
proach of the temptation, would have easily repulsed
it. But the devil will never caution the soul into a
posture of defence, by presenting the temptation at a
distance. He bites and shows his teeth at the same
instant, and so prevents the foresight of the eye, by
exceeding it in quickness.
Secondly. His assaults are furious. Temptations
come very often, as the devil himself is said to do, in a
storm. And a gust of wind, as it rises on a sudden, so
it rushes with vehemence. And if the similitude does
not yet speak high enough, to the violence of the storm
the text adds the prevailing rage of a flood. And we
know the tyranny of this element when it once em
bodies into a torrent, and runs with the united force
of many waters ; it scorns all confinement, and tears
down the proudest opposition, as Virgil fully describes
it: "  Rapidus montano flumine tor r ens
" Sternit agros, sternit sata Iceta, boumq ; labor es,
" Prtecipitesq ; trahit sylvas 
With a parallel encounter does the devil draw
upon the poor fortifications of outward civility, good
desires, imperfect resolutions, and the like, which are
no more able to abide the shock of such batteries, than
a morning dew is able to bear the scorching sun ; or
than such little banks as children use to raise in sport,
are able to stem the outrageous breaking in of the sea.
Every temptation has this property of water, either to
insinuate, or to force its way.
Thirdly. The devil in his assaults is restless and im
portunate. The wind is here said not only to blow,
but emphatically to beat upon the house. And, as in
a tempest the blasts are both sudden and violent in
their onset, so they are frequent in their returns. Im
portunity is the only coaction that the will knows.
Where the devil cannot persuade, he will, if he can,

54 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
even weary into a consent. It is often charging that
wins the field. The tempter, if repulsed in a battle,
will lengthen his assault into a siege. For the mind
may have often a sudden heat of valour to repel the
one, and yet not constancy to endure the other. A re
jected proposal shall be reinforced with fresh supplies
of more urgent and repeated persuasions.
See him thrice renewing the combat with our Sa
viour ; and indeed after he has had the impudence to
begin a temptation, it is always his prudence to pursue
it. Otherwise, opposition only attempted, serves not
for conquest, but admonition. His assaults are here
said to come like the rain, and the rain never falls in
one single drop ; and yet if it did, even a drop would
hollow and dig its way by frequency and assiduity.
It is observed by the learned Verulam, what advan
tage importunate men have over others, nay, even so
as to prevail upon men of wisdom and resolution, be
cause, as he excellently notes, the wisest men have
their weak times. And then I infer, that he who is
importunate at all times, must needs catch them at
those. So when the tempter continues his siege about a soul,
he has all these advantages over it ; as, to view its
strong holds, and to spy where they are least fortified ;
to observe the cessations of duty ; when devotion
ebbs, and the spiritual guards draw off; when the af
fections revel, and slide into a posture of security ; and
then to renew the assault afresh, and so to force a vic
torious entrance for his temptations.
It is here, as with the Greeks before Troy ; it was
not their armies, nor their Achilles, but their ten years'
siege, that got the conquest. What a violent flame
cannot presently melt down, a constant, though a gen
tle heat, will at length exhale. It is our known duty
to resist the devil ; and we shall find that scarce any
temptation ever encounters the soul without its second.
So then, you see here the first cause of this great

Disc. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 55
overthrow, namely, the assault from without by the
tempter ; which, in the next place, is rendered effectual
by the non-resistance of the soul, that is so opposed ;
which peculiarly answers his threefold opposition with
three contrary qualifications.
As, First, That it is frequently unprepared. The
soul (God knows) is but seldom upon the watch ; its
spiritual armour is seldom buckled on. The business,
the cares, and the pleasures of the world, draw it off
from its own defence ; business employs, care distracts,
and pleasure lulls it asleep. And is this a posture to
receive an enemy in ? An enemy cunning, watchful,
and malicious ! An enemy who never sleeps, nor loiters,
nor overlooks an advantage !
Secondly. As it is unprepared, so it is also weak and
feeble. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
And such is the condition of man in this world, that
much more of flesh than spirit goes to his constitution.
Nay, is not grace itself described under the weakness
of smoking flax, or a bruised reed ? Of which how
quickly is one extinguished, and how easily is the other
broke !
Thirdly. As it is both unprepared and weak, so is it
also inconstant. Peter will die for his Master at one
time, and not many hours after deny and forswear him.
Steadfastness is the result of strength, and how then
can constancy dwell with weakness ? The greatest
strength of the mind is in its resolutions, and yet how
often do they change ! Even in the weightiest con
cerns, men too frequently put them on and off with
their clothes. They deceive, when they are most trust
ed ; suddenly starting, and flying in pieces like a broken
bow ; and like a bow again, even when strongest, they
can hardly be kept always bent. We see what fair
and promising beginnings some made : They heard the
word, they received it with joy, but having no root,
believed only for a while, and so in time of temptation
fell away.

56 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
Constancy is the crowning virtue. He who endureth
to the end shall be saved. But then constancy and
perseverance are the gift of God, and above the pro
duction of mere nature ; it being no small paradox to
imagine that where the stock itself is infirm, any thing
which grows out of it should be strong.
And thus, having shown the threefold impotence of
the soul, answerable to the threefold opposition made
against it, what can we conclude ? But that where
unpreparedness is encountered with unexpected force,
weakness with violence, inconstancy with importunity,
there destruction must needs be, not the effect of
chance, but nature, and, by the closest connexion of
causes, unavoidable.
It now remains that we show, wherein the greatness
of this fall consists. The house fell, and great xvas the
fall thereof. In short, it may appear upon these two
accounts. First. That it is scandalous, and diffuses a contagion
to others, and a blot upon religion. A falling house is
a bad neighbour. It is the property of evil as well as
good to be communicative. We still suppose the build
ing here mentioned in the text to have had all the ad
vantages of visible representment, all the pomp and
flourish of external ornament, a stately superstructure,
and a beautiful appearance ; and therefore such an one
must needs perish as remarkably as it stood. That
which is seen afar off, while it stands, is heard of much
further when it falls.
An eminent professor is the concern of a whole pro
fession. As to nonplus an Aristotle would look, not
only like a slur to a particular philosopher, but like a
baffle to philosophy itself.
The devil will let a man build high, that he may at
length fetch him down with the greater shame, and so
make even a Christian an argument against Christian
ity. The subduing of any soul is a conquest, but of
such an one a triumph. A signal professor cannot per-

Disc. Ill] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 57
ish without a train, and in his very destruction his ex
ample is authentic.
Secondly. The greatness of the fall, here spoken of,
appears also in this, that such an one is hardly and very
rarely recovered. He, whose house falls, has not
usually either riches or heart to build another. It is
the business of a life once to build.
God indeed can cement the ruins, and heal the
breaches of an apostate soul ; but usually a ship
wrecked faith and a deflowered conscience admit of no
repair ; like the present time, which, when once gone,
never returns.
What may be within the secret of a decree, or the
compass of extraordinary grace, is not here disputed.
But as it would be arrogance for us men to define the
power of grace, so is it the height of spiritual prudence
to observe its methods. And upon such observation
we shall find, that the recovery of such apostates is not
the custom, but the prerogative of mercy.
A man is ruined but once. A miscarriage in the
new birth is dangerous ; and very fatal it generally
proves to pass the critical seasons of a defeated con
version. And thus I have at length despatched, what I at first
proposed. Now the words themselves, being Christ's
application of his own sermon, cannot be improved into
a better, and consequently need not into another, ex
cept what their own natural consequence does suggest,
and that is, that he who is about to build, would first
sit down and consider what it is like to cost him. For
building is chargeable, especially if a man lays out his
money like a fool. Would a man build for eternity, \
that is, would he be saved ? Let him consider with
himself, what charges he is willing to be at, that he
may be so. Nothing under an universal, sincere obe
dience to all the precepts of the gospel, can entitle
him to the benefits of it ; and thus far and deep he
must go, if he 'will lay his foundation true. It is an
8

58 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
hard and a rocky work, I confess, but the difficulty of
laying it will be abundantly recompensed by the firm
ness of it when it is laid.
But it is a sad and mortifying consideration to think
upon what whirlpools and quicksands many venture to
build. Some you shall have amusing their consciences
with a set of fantastical new-coined phrases, such as
laying hold on Christ, getting into Christ, and rolling
themselves upon Christ, and the like ; by which, if they
mean any thing else but obeying the precepts of Christ,
and a rational hope of salvation thereupon, which, it is
certain, that generally they do not mean, it is all but
a jargon of empty, senseless metaphors ; and though
many venture their souls upon them, despising strict
living as mere morality, and perhaps as popery, yet
being thoroughly looked into and examined, after all
their noise, they are really nothing but words and wind.
Another flatters himself that he has lived in full as
surance of his salvation for ten, or twenty, or perhaps
thirty years ; that is, in other words, the man has been
ignorant and confident very long.
Ay, but says another, I am a great hearer and lover
of sermons, especially of lectures. And it is this which
is the very delight of my righteous soul, and the main
business of my life ; and though indeed, according to
the good old pujitan custom, I use to walk and talk
out the prayers before the church-door, or without the
choir, yet I am sure to be always in at sermon. Nay,
I have so entirely devoted my whole time to the hear
ing of sermons, that, I must confess, I have hardly any
left to practise them. And will not all this set me
right for heaven ? Yes, no doubt, if a man were to be
pulled up to heaven by the ears; or the gospel would
but reverse its rule, and declare, that not the doers
of the word, but the hearers only, should be justified.
But then in comes a fourth, and tells us, that he
is a saint of yet a higher class, as having got far
above all their mean, beggarly, steeple-house dispen-

Disc. III.] FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. 59
sations, by an happy exchange of them for the purer
and more refined ordinances of the conventicle, where
he is sure to meet with powerful teaching indeed,
and to hear will luorship and superstition run down,
and the priests of Baal paid off, and the follies and
fopperies of their great idol, the Common Prayer, laid
open with a witness, (not without some edifying flings
at the king and court too, sometimes,) by all which
his faith is now grown so strong, that he can no
more doubt of his going to heaven, than that there
is such a place as heaven to go to.
So that if the conscience of such an one should
at any time offer to grumble at him, he would present
ly stop its mouth with this, that he is of such an
one's congregation ; .and then, conscience, say thy worst;
or if the guilt of some old peijuries or extortions
should begin to look stern upon him, why, then all
those old scores shall be cleared off with a comfortable
persuasion, that such as he cannot fall from grace,
though it is shrewdly to be feared, that his only way
of proving this must be, that there can be no losing
that which a man never had.
But ah ! thou poor, blind, self-deluding and de
luded soul! Are these the best evidences thou hast
for heaven ? These the grounds upon which thou
hopest for salvation ? Assure thyself that God will
deal with thee upon very different terms.
For he absolutely enjoins thee to do whatsoever
Christ has commanded, and to avoid whatsoever he
has forbidden. And Christ has commanded thee to
be poor in spirit, and pure in heart. To subdue thy
unruly appetites, to curb thy lust, and to suppress
thy revenge. And if any thing proves an hindrance
to thee in thy duty, though it be as dear as thy right
eye, to pluck it out ; and as useful as thy right hand,
to cut it off and cast it from thee ; he will have thee
ready to endure persecutions and slanders, not only
patiently, but also cheerfully, for the truth's sake.

60 FALSE FOUNDATIONS REMOVED. [Disc. III.
He calls upon thee to love thine enemies, and to do
good for evil; in all things, strictly to do as thou
wouldst be done by ; and not to cheat, lie, or over
reach thy neighbour ; and then call it a fetching over
the wicked, the better to enable thee to relieve the god
ly. He will not allow thee to resist evil, and much
less to resist thy governor. He commands thee to be
charitable without vain-glory, and devout without os
tentation ; to be meek and lowly, chaste and tempe
rate, just and merciful ; and, in a word, (so far as the
poor measures of humanity will reach,) perfect, as thy
heavenly Father is perfect.
This is the sum of those divine sayings of our Sa
viour, which he himself refers to in my text, and which
if a man hears and does, all the powers of hell shall
never shake him. And nothing but a constant, impar
tial, universal practice of these will speak peace to thy
conscience here, and stand between thee and the wrath
of God hereafter. As for all other pretences, they
are nothing but death and damnation dressed up in fair
words and false shows ; nothing but gins and trapans
for souls ; contrived by the devil, and managed by such
as the devil sets on work.
But I have done, and the result of all that I have
said, or can say, is, that every spiritual builder would
be persuaded to translate his foundation from the sand
to the rock ; and not presume upon Christ as his Sa
viour, till by a full obedience to his laws, he has own
ed him for his Sovereign. And this is properly to be
lieve in him : this is truly to build upon a Rock ; even
that Rock of Ages, upon which, every one that wears
the name of Christ, must by an inevitable dilemma
either build or split.

DISCOURSE IV.

RELIGION THE BEST REASON OF STATE.*

1 KINGS, xiii. 33, 34.
After this thing Jeroboam returned not from his evil
way, but made again of the lowest of the people
priests of the high places. Whosoever would, he
consecrated him, and he became one of the priests
of the high places. And this thing became sin unto
the house of Jeroboam, even to cut it off, and to
destroy it from off the face of the earth.
Jeroboam (from the name of a person become the
character of impiety) is reported to posterity eminent,
or rather infamous, for two things ; usurpation of gov
ernment, and innovation of religion. 'Tis confessed,
the former is expressly said to> have been from God ;
but since God may order what he does not approve,
and use the wickedness of men while he forbids it,
the design of the first cause does not excuse the malig
nity of the second ; and therefore the advancement of
Jeroboam was in that sense only the work of God, in
which it is said, Amos iii. That there is no evil in the
city which the Lord hath not done. But from his at
tempts upon the civil power, he proceeds to innovate
God's worship; and from the subjection of men's bodies
and estates, to enslave their consciences, as knowing
that true religion is no friend to an unjust title. Such
[ * The title applied to this discourse by its author, it was thought
best to retain, though from its quaintness and brevity, somewhat obscure.
Modern preachers would perhaps have styled it, — The public Mainte
nance of Religion, the truest Policy of the State. — Ed.]

62 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
was afterwards the way of Mahomet, to the tyrant to
join the imposter, and what he had got by the sword
to confirm by the Alcoran ; raising his empire upon two
pillars, conquest and inspiration. Jeroboam being thus
advanced, and thinking policy the best piety, though
indeed in nothing ever more befooled ; the nature of
sin being not only to defile, but to infatuate. In the
xith chapter he thus argues : If this people go up
to do sacrifice in the house of the Lord at Jerusalem,
then shall the heart of this people turn again unto
their lord, even unto Rehoboam, king of Judah, and
they shall kill me, and go again unto Rehoboam, king
of Judah. As if he should have said ; The true wor
ship of God, and the converse of those that use it, dis
pose men to a considerate lawful subjection. And
therefore I must take another course ; my practice must
not be better than my title ; what was won by force,
must be continued by delusion. Thus sin is usually
seconded with sin ; and a man seldom commits one sin
to please, but he commits another to defend himself.
Whereupon the king took counsel, and made two calves
of gold, and said unto them, It is too much for you
to go up to Jerusalem ; behold thy gods, 0 Israel !
As if he had made such an edict : / Jeroboam, by
the advice of my council, considering the great dis
tance of the temple, and the great charges that poor
people are put to in going thither ; as also the intol
erable burthen of paying the first fruits and tythes
to the priest, have considered of a way that may be
more easy to the people, as also more comfortable to
the priests themselves, and therefore strictly enjoin,
that none henceforth presume to repair to Jerusalem,
especially since God is not tied to any place or form
of worship ; as also because the devotion of men is
apt to be clogged by such ceremonies ; therefore, both
for the ease of the people, as well as for the ad
vancement of religion, we command, that all hence
forth forbear going up to Jerusalem. Questionless

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 63
these and such other reasons, the impostor used, to in
sinuate his devout idolatry. And thus the calves were
set up, to which oxen must be sacrificed ; the god and
the sacrifice out of the same herd. And because Israel
was not to return to Egypt, Egypt was brought back
to them ; that is, the Egyptian way of worship, the
Apis or Sernpis, which was nothing but the image of a
calf or ox, as is clear from most historians. Thus Je
roboam having procured his people gods, the next thing
was to provide priests. Hereupon to the calves he
adds a commission for the approving, trying, and ad
mitting the rascality and lowest of the people to min
ister in that service ; such as kept cattle, with a little
change of their office, were admitted to make oblations
to them. And doubtless, besides the approbation of
these, there was a commission also to eject such of the
priests and levites of God, as being too ceremoniously
addicted to the temple, would not serve Jeroboam,
before God, nor worship his calves for their gold,
nor approve those two glittering sins for any reason
of state whatsoever. Having now perfected divine
worship, and prepared both gods and priests ; in the
next place, that he might the better teach his false
priests the way of their new worship, he begins the
service himself, and so countenances, by his example,
what he had enjoined by his command. And Jero
boam stood by the altar to burn incense. Burning
of incense was then the ministerial office amongst
them, as preaching is now amongst us. So that to
represent to you the nature of Jeroboam's action, it
was, as if in a Christian nation the chief governor
should encourage all the scum of the people to preach*,
and call them to the ministry by using to preach,*
and invade the ministerial function himself. But Je
roboam rested not here, but while he was busy in
his work, and a prophet immediately sent by God
declares against his idolatry, he held forth his hand
* Cromwell (a lively copy of Jeroboam) did so.

64 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
from the altar, and said, Lay hold of him. Thus we
have him completing his sin, and by a strange im
position of hands persecuting the true prophets, as
well as ordaining false. But it was a natural tran
sition, and no ways wonderful, to see him, who stood
affronting God with false incense in the right hand,
persecuting with the left, and abetting the idolatry
of one arm with the violence of the other. Now if
we lay all these things together, and consider the parts,
rise, and degrees of his sin, we shall find, that it was not
for nothing, that the Spirit of God so frequently and
bitterly in scripture stigmatises this person ; for it
represents him, first incroaching upon the civil gov
ernment, thence changing that of the church, debas
ing the office that God had made sacred ; introducing
a false way of worship, and destroying the true. And
in this we have a full and fair description of a foul thing,
that is, of an usurper and an impostor.
From the story and practice of Jeroboam, we might
gather these observations.
1 . That God sometimes punishes a notorious sin, by
suffering the sinner to fall into a worse. 2. There is
nothing so absurd, but may be obtruded upon the vulgar
under pretence of religion. 3. Sin, especicdly that of
perverting God's worship, as it leaves a guilt upon the
soul, so it perpetuates a blot upon the name.
********
But I shall insist only upon the words of the text,
and what shall be drawn from thence. There are two
things in the words that may seem to require explica
tion. Y
1 . What is meant by the high places.
2. What by the consecration of the priests.
1. Concerning the high places. The use of these
in the divine worship was general and ancient ; and as
Dionysius Vossius observes in his notes upon Moses
Maimonides, the first way that was used, long before
temples were either built, or thought lawful. The

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 65
reason of this seems to be, because those places could
not be thought to shut up or confine the immensity of
God, as they supposed an house did, and withal gave
his worshippers a nearer approach to heaven by their
height. Hence we read that the Samaritans worship
ped upon mount Gerizim. And Samuel went up to the
high place to sacrifice. And Solomon sacrificed at the
high place in Gibeon. Yea, the temple itself was at
length built upon a mount or high place. You will
say then, why are these places condemned ? I answer,
that the use of them was not condemned as absolutely
unlawful in itself, but only after the temple was built,
and that God had professed to put his name in that
place and no other. Therefore, what was lawful in
the practice of Samuel and Solomon, before the temple
was in being, was now detestable in Jeroboam, since
that was constituted by God the only place for his wor
ship. To bring this consideration to the times of Chris
tianity : Because the primitive Christians preached in
houses, and had only private meetings in regard they
were under persecution, this cannot warrant the prac
tice of those now-a-days, nor a toleration of them, that
prefer houses before churches, and a conventicle before
the congregation.
2. For the consecration of the priests ; it seems to
have been correspondent to ordination in the Christian
Church. Idolaters themselves were not so far gone,
as to venture upon the priesthood without consecration
and a call. To show all the solemnities of this, would
be tedious, and here unnecessary. The Hebrew word,
which we render to consecrate, signifies to fill the hand,
which indeed imports the manner of consecration, which
was done by filling the hand : for the priest cut a piece
of the sacrifice, and put it into the hands of him that
was to be consecrated ; by which ceremony he received
right to sacrifice, and so became a priest. As our or
dination in the Christian Church is said to have been
heretofore transacted by the bishop's delivering of the
9

66 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
bible into the hands of him that was to be ordained,
whereby he received power ministerially to dispense
the mysteries contained in it, and so was made a pres
byter. Thus much briefly concerning consecration.
There remains nothing else to be explained in the
words. I shall therefore now draw forth the sense of
them into these two propositions.
I. The surest means to strengthen, or the readiest to
ruin the civil power, is either to establish or destroy the
worship of God in the right exercise of religion.
II. The next and most effectual way to destroy re
ligion is to embase the dispensers of it.
I. For the prosecution of the former we are to show,
First. The Truth. Second. The Reason, of the assertion.
1. For the truth of it: It is abundantly evinced
from all the records both of divine and prophane. histo
ry, in which he that runs, may read the ruin of the state
in the destruction of the church ; and that not only
portended by it, as its sign, but also inferred from it,
as its cause.
2. For the reason of the point ; it may be drawn,
(1.) From the judicial proceeding of God, the great
King of kings, who for his commands is indeed careful,
but for his worship jealous; and therefore, in states
notoriously irreligious, by a secret and irresistible pow
er, countermands their deepest project, splits their
counsels, and smites their most refined policies with
frustration and a curse ; being resolved that the king
doms of the world shall fall down before him, either in
his adoration, or their own confusion.
(2.) The reason of the doctrine may be drawn
from the necessary dependance of the very principles
of government upon religion. And this I shall pursue
more fully. The great business of government is to
procure obedience, and keep off disobedience : the
great springs upon which those two move, are rewards
and punishments, answering the two ruling affections
of man's mind, hope and fear. For since there is a

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 67
natural opposition between the judgment and the ap
petite, the former respecting what is honest, the latter
what is pleasing ; which two qualifications seldom con
cur in the same thing, and since withal, man's design
in every action is delight, therefore to render things
honest also practicable, they must be first represented
desirable, which cannot be but by proposing honesty
clothed with pleasure ; and since it presents no plea
sure to the sense, it must be fetcht from the apprehen
sion of a future reward : for questionless duty moves
not so much upon command as promise. Now there
fore, that which proposes the greatest and most suitable
rewards to obedience, and the greatest terrors and pun
ishments to disobedience, doubtless is the most likely
to enforce one and prevent the other. But it is re
ligion that does this, which to happiness and misery
joins eternity. And these, supposing the immortality
of the soul, which philosophy indeed conjectures, but
only religion proves, or, which is as good, persuades :
I say these two things, eternal happiness and eternal
misery, meeting with a persuasion that the soul is im
mortal, are, without controversy, of all others, the first
the most desirable, and the latter the most horrible to
humane apprehension. Were it not for these, civil
government were not able to stand before the prevail
ing swing of corrupt nature, which would know no
honesty but advantage, no duty but in pleasure, nor
any law but its own will. Were not these frequently
thundered into the understandings of men, the magis
trate might enact, order, and proclaim ; proclamations
might be hung upon walls and posts, and there they
might hang, seen and despised, more like malefactors,
than laws. But when religion binds them upon the
conscience,conscience will either persuade or terrify
men into fneir practice. For put the case, a man
knew, and that upon sure grounds, tha he might do an
advantageous murder or robbery, and not be discovered ;
what humane laws could hinder him, which, he knows,

68 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
cannot inflict any penalty where he can make no dis
covery ? But religion assures him, that no sin, though
concealed from humane eyes, can either escape God's
sight in this world, or his vengeance in the other. Put
the case also, that men looked upon death without fear,
in which sense it is nothing, or at most very little ;
ceasing while it is endured, and probably without pain,
for it seizes upon the vitals, and benumbs the senses,
and where there is no sense there can be no pain. I
say, if while a man is acting his will towards sin, he
should also thus act his reason to despise death, where
would be the terror of the magistrate, who can neither
threaten or inflict more ? Hence an old malefactor in
his execution, at the gallows made no other confession
but this, that he had very jocundly passed over his life
in such courses, and he that would not for fifty years'
pleasure endure half an hour's pain, deserved to die a
worse death than himself. Questionless this man was
not ignorant before, that there were such things as
laws, assizes, and gallows ; but had he considered the
terrors of another world, he might probably have found
a fairer passage out of this. If there was not a minis
ter in every parish, you would quickly find cause to
increase the number of constables ; and if the churches
were not employed to be places to hear God's law,
there would be need of them to be prisons for the
breakers of the laws of men. Hence 'tis observable,
that the tribe of Levi had not one place or portion to
gether like the rest of the tribes. But because it was
their office to dispense religion, they were diffused over
all the tribes, that they might be continually preaching
to the rest their duty to God, which is the most effec
tual way to dispose them to obedience to man ; for he
that truly fears God, cannot despise the magistrate.
Yea, so near is the connexion between the civil state
and religious, that heretofore, if you look upon well
regulated, civilized heathen nations, you will find the
government and the priesthood united in the same per-

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 69
son : Anius, rex idem hominum, Phcebique sacerdos.
Ailn. III. If, under the true worship of God, Melchise-
dech, king of Salem, and priest of the most high God,
Hebr. vii. And afterwards Moses, (whom as we ac
knowledge a pious, so atheists themselves will confess
to have been a wise prince,) he, when he took the
kingly government upon himself, by his own choice,
seconded by divine institution, vested the priesthood
in his brother Aaron, both whose concernments were
so coupled, that if nature had not, yet their religions,
nay, their civil interests would have made them broth
ers. And it was once the design of the emperor of
Germany, Maximilian the First, to have joined the
popedom and the empire together, and to have got
himself chosen pope, and by that means derived
the papacy to succeeding emperors. Had he effected
it, doubtless there would not have been such scuffles
between them and the bishop of Rome. And to see,
even amongst us, how these two are united ; the mag
istrate sometimes cannot do his own office dexterously,
but by acting the minister. Hence it is, that judges
of assizes find it necessary in their charges to use pa-
thetical discourses of conscience ; and if it were not
for the sway of this, they would often lose the best evi
dence in the world against malefactors, which is con
fession ; for no man would confess and be hanged here,
but to avoid being damned hereafter. Thus I have in
general shown the utter inability of the magistrate to
attain the ends of government, without the aid of re
ligion. But it may be here replied, that many are not
at all moved with arguments drawn from the happy or
miserable state of the soul after death ; and therefore
this avails little to procure obedience, and consequent
ly to advance government. I answer by concession,
that this is true of epicures, atheists, and some pretend
ed philosophers, who have stifled the notions of Deity,
and the soul's immortality ; but the unprepossessed on
the one hand, and the well disposed on the other, who

70 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
together make much the major part of the world, are
affected with a due fear of these things. * * * * And
whatsoever conscience makes the generality obey, to
that prudence will make the rest conform.
Wherefore, having proved the dependence of govern
ment upon religion, I shall now demonstrate, that the
safety of government depends upon the truth of religion.
False religion is, in its nature, the greatest bane to gov
ernment in the world ; because whatsoever is false, is
also weak. And so much as any religion has of falsity,
it loses of strength and existence. And what preju
dice this would be to the civil government, is apparent,
if men should be awed into obedience, and affrighted
from sin by rewards and punishments, proposed to them
in such a religion, which afterwards should be detect
ed, and found a mere cheat. And men will then not
only cast off obedience to the civil magistrate, but they
will do it with disdain and rage, that they have been
deceived so long ; for though men are often willingly
deceived, yet still it must be under an opinion of being
instructed ; though they love the deception, yet they
mortally hate it under that appearance. Therefore it
is no ways safe for a magistrate, who is to build his do
minion upon the fears of men, to build those fears upon
a false religion. 'Tis not to be doubted, but the ab
surdity of Jeroboam's calves made many Israelites turn
subjects to Rehoboam' s government, that they might
be proselytes to his religion. Herein the weakness of
the Turkish religion appears, that it urges obedience
upon the promise of such absurd rewards, as, that after
death they should have palaces, gardens, beautiful wo
men, with all the luxury that could be : as if those
things, that were the occasions and incentives of sin in
this world, could be the rewards of holiness in the
other ; besides many other inventions, that are like so
many chinks and holes to discover the rottenness of
the whole fabrick, when God shall be pleased to give
light to open their reasons to discern them. But you

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 71
will say, What government more sure and absolute than
the Turkish, and yet what religion more false ? There
fore, certainly government may stand sure and strong,
be the religion professed never so absurd. I answer,
that it may do so indeed by accident, through the
strange peculiar temper and gross ignorance of a peo
ple ; as we see it happens in the Turks, the best part
of whose policy, supposing the absurdity of their re
ligion, is this, that they prohibit schools of learning.
But suppose we, that the learning of these western na
tions were as great there as here, and the Alcoran as
common to them as the Bible co us, that they might
have free recourse to examine the flaws and follies of
it ; and withal, that they were of as inquisitive a tem
per as wre ; and who knows, but as there are vicissi
tudes in the government, so there may happen the same
also in the temper of a nation ? If this should come to
pass, where would be their religion ? And then let
every one judge whether the arcana imperii and re-
ligionis would not fall together. They have begun to
totter already ; for Mahomet having promised to come
and visit his followers, and translate them to paradise
after a thousand years, this being expired, many of the
Persians began to doubt and smell the cheat, till the
mufti, or chief priest, told them that it was a mistake
in the figure, and assured them, that upon more diligent
survey of the records, he found it two thousand instead
of one. When this is expired, perhaps they will not
be able to renew the fallacy. 1 say therefore, that
though this government continues firm in the exercise
of a false religion, yet this is through the present ge
nius of the people, which may change ; but this does
not prove, but that the nature of such a religion, (of
which we only now speak) tends to subvert the civil
power. Hence Machiavel himself, in his animadver
sions upon Livy, makes it appear, that the weakness
of Italy, wrhich was once so strong, was caused by the
corrupt practices of the papacy, in depraving religion

72 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
to that purpose, which he, though himself a papist,
says, could not have happened, had the Christian re
ligion been kept in its native simplicity.
The inferences from hence are two.
1. If government depends upon religion, then this
shows the pestilential design of those that attempt to
disjoin the civil and ecclesiastical interest, setting the
latter wholly out of the tuition of the former. But 'tis
clear that the fanatics know no other step to the magis
tracy, but through the ruin of the ministry. There is
a great analogy between the body natural and politick ;
in which the ecclesiastical part justly supplies the part
of the soul, and the violent separation of this from the
other does as certainly infer death, as the disjunction
of body and soul in the natural : for when this once de
parts, it leaves the body of the commonwealth a car
cass, noisome, and exposed to be devoured by birds of
prey. The ministry will be one day found, according
to Christ's word, the salt of the earth, the only thing
that keeps societies of men from stench and corruption.
These two interests are of that nature, that 'tis to be
feared they cannot be divided, but they will also prove
opposite ; and not resting in a bare diversity, quickly
rise into a contrariety. These two are to the state,
what the elements of fire and water are to the body,
which united, compose ; separated, destroy it. I am not
of the papist's opinion, who would make the spiritual
above the civil state in power as well as dignity,
but rather subject it to the civil ; yet thus much I dare
affirm, that the civil, which is superior, is upheld and
kept in being by the ecclesiastical and inferior ; as it
is in a building where the upper part is supported by
the lower ; the church resembling the foundation,
which indeed is the lowest part, but the most con
siderable. The magistracy cannot so much protect
the ministry, but the ministers may do more in serv
ing the magistrate. A taste of which truth you
may take from the holy war, to which how fast did

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 73
men go, when the priest persuaded them, that who
soever died in that expedition was a martyr ? Those
that will not be convinced what a help this is to the
magistracy, would find how considerable it is, if they
should chance to clash; this would certainly eat out
the other. For the magistrate cannot urge obedience
upon such potent grounds, as the minister, if so dis
posed, can urge disobedience. As for instance, if
my governor should command me to do a thing, or
I must die, or forfeit my estate ; and the minister
steps in, and tells me, that I ruin my soul if I obey,
it's easy to see a greater force in this persuasion from
the advantage of its ground. And if divines once
begin to curse Meroz, we shall see that Levi can use
the sword as well as Simeon ; and although ministers
do not handle, yet they can employ it. This shows
the danger of the civil magistrate's exasperating those
that can fire men's consciences against him, and arm
his enemies with religion. For I have read hereto
fore of some, that having conceived an irreconcilable
hatred of the civil magistrate', prevailed with men so
far, that they went to resist him even out of con
science, and a full persuasion that, not to do it, were •
to desert God and to incur damnation. Now when
men's rage is both heightened and sanctified by con
science, the war will be fierce. And then Campa
nula's speech to the king of Spain will be found
true, religio semper vicit, prcesertim armata. Which
sentence deserves seriously to be considered by all
governors, and timely to be understood lest it comes
to be felt.
2. If the safety. of government is founded upon the
truth of religion, then this shows the danger of any
thing that may make even the true religion suspect
ed to be false. To be false, and to be thought false,
is all one in respect of men, who act not according
to truth, but apprehension. As on the contrary, a false
religion, while apprehended true, has the force of
10

74 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
truth. Now there is nothing more apt to induce men
to a suspicion of any religion, than frequent change :
For since the object of religion, God ; the subject of
it, the soul of man ; and the business of it, truth, is
always one and the same ; variety and novelty is a just
presumption of falsity. It argues distemper in the
mind, as well as in the body, when a man is continually
tossing from one side to the other. The wise Romans
ever dreaded the least innovation in religion. Hence
we find the advice of Meccenas to Augustus Ccesar, in
Dion Cassius, where he counsels him to persecute all
innovators of divine worship, not only as contemners of
the gods, but as the most pernicious disturbers of the
state. For when men venture to make changes in things
sacred, it argues great boldness with God, and this
naturally imports little belief of him ; which, if the peo
ple once perceive, they will take their creed also, not
from the magistrate's laws, but his example. Hence
in England, where religion has been still purifying,
and hereupon almost always in the fire and the fur
nace, irreligious persons have took no small advantage
from our changes. For in king Edward the sixth's
time, the divine worship was twice altered in two new
liturgies. In the first of queen Mary, the protestant
religion was persecuted with fire and faggot, by law
and public counsel of the same persons, who had so
lately established it. Upon the coming in of queen
Elizabeth, religion was changed again, and within a
few days the public council of the nation made it death
for a priest to convert any to that religion, which be
fore with so much zeal had been restored. So that it
is observed, that in the space of twelve years there
were four changes about religion made in England, and
that by the public council of the realm, which were
more than were made by any Christian state through
out the world, so soon one after another, in the space
of fifteen hundred years before. Hence it is, that the
enemies of God take occasion to blaspheme, and call

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 75
our religion statism. And now adding to the former,
those many changes that have happened since, I am
afraid we shall not so easily claw off that name ; nor,
though we may satisfy our own consciences in what
we profess, be able to repel the objections of the ra
tional world about us, which not being interested in our
changes, will not judge of them as we judge, but de
bate them by reason, by the nature of the thing, the.
practice of the church ; against which, new lights, sud
den impulses of the spirit, extraordinary calls, will be
but weak arguments to prove any thing but the mad
ness of those that use them, and that the church must
needs wither, being blasted with such inspirations. And
indeed when changes are so frequent, it is not properly
religion, but fashion.
II. The next and most effectual way io destroy re
ligion, is to embase the dispensers of it. In the han
dling of this I shall show,
First, How the dispensers of religion are embased.
Second, How the embasing them is a means to destroy
Teligion. 1. For the first of these, the dispensers of the word
are rendered base two ways :
(1.) By divesting them of all temporal advantages,
as inconsistent with their calling. It is strange, since
the priest's office heretofore was always splendid, and
almost regal, that it is now looked upon as a piece
of religion to make it low and sordid. So that the
use of the word minister is brought down to the lite
ral signification of it, a servant. But in the Old Tes
tament, the same word signifies a priest, and a prince,
or chief ruler. Gen. xii. 45. Exod. iii. 1. Isa. xxiv. 2.
Junius and Tremellius render all these places, not by
sacerdos, priest, but by prases, that is, a prince, or
at least a minister of state. And it is strange, that
the name should be the same, when the nature of the
thing is so exceeding different. The like also may
be observed in other languages, that the most illus-

76 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
trious titles are derived from things sacred. JJsSas'os
was the title of the Christian Ccesars, correspondent to
the Latin Augustus, and it is derived from asBaaixa,
cultus, res sacra. And it is usual in our language to
make sacred an epithet to majesty; there was a cer
tain royalty in things sacred. Hence the apostle, who,
I think, was no enemy to the simplicity of the gospel,
speaks of a royal priesthood. In old time, before the
placing this office only in the line of Aaron, the head
of the family, and the first born offered sacrifice for
the rest ; that is, was their priest. And we know,
that such rule and dignity belonged at first to the
masters of families, that they had jus vitce. #• necis,
power of life and death in their own family ; and
hence was derived the beginning of kingly govern
ment; a king being only a civil head of a politick
family, the whole people ; so that we see the same
was the foundation of the royal and sacerdotal dig
nity. As for the dignity of this office among the
Jews, it is so pregnantiv set forth in holy writ, that
it is unquestionable. Kings aud priests are still men
tioned together, Lam. ii. 6. The Lord hath despised,
in the indignation of his anger, the king and the priest,
Hos. v. 2. Hear, O priests, and give ear, O house of
the king. Hence Paul, together with a blow, received
this reprehension, Revilest thou God's high priest ?
And Paul, in the next verse, does not defend himself,
by pleading an extraordinary motion of the JSpirit, or
that he was sent to reform the church, and might there
fore lawfully vilify the priesthood ; but he makes an ex
cuse, and that from ignorance, the only thing that could
take away the fault, and subjoins a reason which far
ther advances the truth here defended : For it is writ
ten, thou shalt not speak evil of the ruler of thy people.
To holy writ we might add the testimony of Josephus,
of next authority to it in things concerning the Jews,
who in sundry places of his history sets forth the dig
nity of the priests. * * * * To the Jews we may

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 77
join the Egyptians, the first masters of learning and
philosophy. * * * * Next, we may take a view of
the practice of the Romans : Numa Pompilius, who
civilized the fierce Romans, is reported in Livy, some
times to have performed the priest's office himself.
Turn sacerdolibus creandis animum adjecit, quanquam
ipse plurima sacra obibat ; but when he made priests,
he gave them a dignity almost the same with himself.
And this honour continued logether with the valour
and prudence of that nation : For the success of the
Romans did not extirpate their religion ; the college of
the priests being in many things exempted even from
the jurisdiction of the senate. Hence Juvenal men
tions the priesthood of Mars, as one of the most honor
able places in Rome. And Jul. Ccesar, who was chosen
priest in his private condition, thought it not below
him to continue the same office when he was created
absolute governor of Rome, under the name of perpet
ual dictator. Add to these the practice of the Gauls
mentioned by Cmsar, (de Bello Gallico,) where he
says of the Druides, who were their priests, that they
did judge de omnibus fere controversiis publicis priva-
tisque. See also Homer in the Iliad representing
Chryses, priest of Apollo, with his golden sceptre, as
well as his golden censer. But why have I produced
all these examples of the heathens ? Is it to make these
a ground of our imitation ? No, but to show that the
giving honour to the priesthood was a custom universal
amongst all civilized nations. And whatsoever is uni
versal, is also natural, as not founded upon compact, or
the humours of men, but the native results of reason ;
and that which is natural neither does nor can oppose
religion. But you will say, this concerns not us, who
have an express rule revealed. Christ was himself
poor and despised, and withal has instituted such a
ministry. To the first part of this plea I answer, that
Christ came to suffer, yet the sufferings of Christ do
not oblige all Christians to undertake the like. For

78 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
the second, that the ministry of Christ was low, by his
institution, I utterly deny. It was so, indeed, by the
persecution of the heathen princes, but what does this
argue for a low, dejected ministry in a flourishing state,
which professes to encourage Christianity ? But to
dash this cavil, read but the practice of Christian em
perors down from the time of Constantine, in what re
spect and splendor they treated the ministers ; and
then let our adversaries produce their puny, pitiful ar
guments for the contrary, against the general, clear,
current of all antiquity. As for two or three little
countries about us, the learned and impartial will not
value their practice ; in one of which places the min
ister has been seen, for mere want, to mend shoes on
the Saturday, and been heard to preach on the Sunday.
In the other place, stating the several orders of the
citizens, they place their ministers after their apothe
caries ; that is, the physician of the soul after the
drugster of the body ; a fit practice for those who, if
they were to rank things as well as persons, would
place their religion after their trade.
And thus much concerning the first way of embasing
the ministers and ministry.
(2.) By admitting sordid, illiterate persons to this
function. This is to give the royal stamp to a piece
of lead. I confess, God has no need of any man's
parts or learning ; but certainly then, he has much less
need of his ignorance and ill behaviour. It is a sad
thing, when all other employments shall empty them
selves into the ministry ; when men Shall repair to it,
not for preferment, but refuge ; like malefactors flying
to the altar, only to save their lives ; or like those of
Eli's race, that should come crouching, and seek to
be put in the priest's office that they might eat a piece
of bread. Heretofore there was required splendor of
parentage to recommend any one to the priesthood, as
Josephus witnesses in a treatise which he wrote of his
own life ; where he says, to have right to deal in

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 79
things sacred, was, amongst them, accounted an argu
ment of a noble descent. God would not accept the
offals of other professions. Doubtless many rejected
Christ upon this thought, that he was the carpenter's
son, who would have embraced him, had they known
him to have been the Son of David. The preferring
undeserving persons to this great service, was eminent
ly Jeroboam's sin, and how Jeroboam's practice and
offence has been continued amongst us in another guise,
is not unknown ; for has not learning unqualified men
for approbation to the ministry ? Have not parts and
abilities been reputed enemies to grace, and qualities
no ways ministerial ? While friends, faction, well-
meaning and little understanding, have been accom
plishments beyond study and the university ; and to
falsify a story of conversion, beyond pertinent answers
and clear resolutions to the hardest questions. So that
matters have been brought to this pass, that if a man
amongst his sons had any blind, or disfigured, he laid
him aside for the ministry ; and such an one was pre
sently approved, as having a mortified countenance. In
short, it was a fiery furnace, which often approved
dross, and rejected gold. But thanks be to God, those
spiritual wickednesses are now discharged from their
high places. Hence it was, that many rushed into the
ministry, as being the only calling, that they could pro
fess without serving an apprenticeship. Hence also
we had those that could preach sermons, but not de
fend them. The reason of which is clear, because
the works of learned men might be borrowed, but not
the abilities. Had indeed the old levitical hierarchy
still continued ; in which it was part of the ministerial
office to flay the sacrifices, to cleanse the vessels, to
scour the flesh-forks, to sweep the temple, and carry
the filth and rubbish to the brook Kidron, no persons
living had been fitter for the ministry, and to serve in
this nature at the altar. But since it is made a labour
of the mind ; as to inform men's judgments, and move

80 RELIGION THE BEST [DlSC. IV.
their affections, to resolve difficult places of scripture,
to clear off controversies ; I cannot see how to be a
butcher, scavenger, or any other such trade, does at all
prepare men for this work. But as unfit as they were,
yet to clear a way for such into the ministry, we have
had almost all sermons full of gibes at human learning.
Away with vain philosophy, the disputer of this world,
the enticing words of man's wisdom, and set up the
foolishness of preaching, the simplicity of the gospel.
Thus divinity has been brought in upon the ruins of
humanity ; by forcing the words of the scripture from
the sense, and then haling them to the worst of drudge
ries, to set a jus divinum upon ignorance, and recom
mend natural weakness for supernatural grace. Here
upon the ignorant have took heart to venture upon
this great calling, and instead of cutting their way to
it, according to the usual course, through the know
ledge of the tongues, the study of philosophy, school
divinity, the fathers and councils, they have taken a
shorter cut, and having read perhaps a Treatise or two
upon the Heart, the Bruised Reed, the Crumbs of Com
fort, Wollebius in English, and some other little authors,
the usual furniture of old women's closets, they have
set forth as accomplished divines, and forthwith they
present themselves to the service ; and there have not
been wanting Jeroboams as willing to receive them, as
they to offer themselves.
And this may suffice concerning the second way of
embasing God's ministers ; so that what Solomon speaks
of a proverb in the mouth of a fool, may be said of the
ministry vested in them, that it is like a pearl in a
swine's snout.
2. I proceed now to show, how the embasing of the
ministers tends to the destruction of religion. This is
two ways.
(1.) Because it brings them under exceeding con
tempt ; and then, let none think religion itself secure :
For the vulgar have not such logical heads, as to be

Disc. IF.] REASON OF STATE. 81
able to abstract the man from the minister, or to con
sider the same person under a double capacity, and so
honour him as a divine, while they despise him as poor.
But suppose they could, yet every act of contempt
strikes at both, and unavoidably wounds the ministry
through the sides of the minister. ***** Mean
ness of condition exposes the wisest to scorn, it being
natural for men to place their esteem rather upon things
great than good ; and the poet observes, that this in-
felix paupertas has nothing in it more intolerable than
this, that it renders men ridiculous. And then, how easy
it is for contempt to pass from the person to the office,
experience proves ; counsel being seldom valued so
much for the truth of the thing, as the credit of him
that gives it. Observe an excellent passage to this
purpose, in Eccles. ix. We have an account of a little
city, with few men in it, besieged by a great king, and
we read, that there was found in it a poor wise man,
and he by his wisdom delivered the city ; a worthy ser
vice indeed, and certainly we may expect that some
honourable recompense should follow it ; a deliverer of
his country, and that in such distress, could not but be
advanced. But we find a contrary event in the next
words; yet none remembered that same poor man. Why,
what should be the reason ? Was he not a man of
parts and wisdom, and is not wisdom honourable ? Yes,
but he was poor. But was he not also successful, as
well as wise ? True ; but still he was poor. And
once grant this, and you cannot keep off that unavoid
able sequel, The poor man's wisdom is despised, and
his words are not heard. We may believe it upon
Solomon's word, who was rich, as well as wise, and
therefore knew the force of both : and probably had it
not been for his riches, the queen of Sheba would nev
er have come so far only to have heard his wisdom.
Observe her behaviour when she came. Though upon
the hearing of Solomon's wisdom, and the resolution of
her hard questions, she expressed a just admiration ;•
11

82 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
yet when Solomon afterwards showed her his palace,
his treasures, and the temple which he had built, it is
said, there was no more spirit in her. What was the
cause of this ? Certainly, the magnificence and splen
dor of such a structure. It struck her into an ecstacy
beyond his wise answers. She esteemed this as much
above his wisdom, as astonishment is beyond bare ad
miration. Site admired his wisdom, but she adored
his magnificence. So apt is the mind, even of wise
persons, to be surprized with the superficies of things,
and value or undervalue spirituals, according to their
external appearance. When circumstances fail, the
subsfince seldom long survives ; clothes are no part of
the body, yet take away clothes, and the body will die.
Livy observes of Romulus, that being to give laws to
his new Romans, he found no better way to procure
reverence to them, than by first procuring it to himself
by splendor of habit and retinue, and other signs of
royalty. And the wise Numa, his successor, took the
same course to enforce his religious laws, namely, by
giving the same pomp to the priest, who was to dis
pense them. Sacerdotem creavit, insignique eum veste
cy curuli regia sella adornavit. And in onr judicatures,
take away the trumpet, the scarlet, the attendance,
and the lordship, which would be to make justice naked,
as well as blind ; and the law would lose much o! its
terror, and consequently of its authority. Let the min
ister be abject, the word will suffer for his sake : The
message will still find reception according to the dig
nity of the messenger. Imagine an ambassador pre
senting himself in a poor frize jerkin and tattered
clothes, certainly he would have but small audience.
* * * * It will fare alike with the ambassadors of
Christ, the people will give them audience according
to their presence. A notable example of which we
have in the behaviour of some to Paul himself, 2 Cor.
x. 10. Hence in the Jewish church it was cautiously
provided, that none that was blind or lame, or had any

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 83
remarkable defect in his body, was capable of the
priestly office ; because these things naturally make a
person contemned, and this presently reflects upon the
function. This therefore is the first way by which
the low condition of the ministers tends to the destruc
tion of the ministry.
(2.) Because it discourages men of fit parts from
undertaking it. And certain it is, that as the calling
dignifies the man, so the man much more advances his
calling. And how often a good cause may miscarry
without a wise manager, and the faith for want of a
defender, is, or at least may be known. 'Tis not the
truth of an assertion, but the skill of the disputant, that
keeps off a baffle ; not the justness of a cause, but the
valour of the soldiers that must win the field. When
a learned Paul was converted, and undertook the min
istry, it stopped the mouths of those that said, none but
poor, weak fishermen preached Christianity ; and so
his learning silenced the scandal, as well as strength
ened the church. Religion, placed in a soul of ex
quisite abilities, as in a castle, finds not only habitation,
but defence. And what a learned* foreign divine said
of the English preaching, may be said of all, plus est
in artifice, quam in arte. So much of moment is there
in the professors of any thing, to depress or raise the
profession. What is it that kept the church of Rome
strong and flourishing for so many centuries, but the
happy succession of the choicest wits engaged to her
service by suitable preferments ? And what strength,
do we think, would that give to the true religion,
that is able thus to establish a false ? Religion in a
great measure stands or falls according to the abilities
of those that assert it. And if, as some observe, men's
desires are usually as large as their abilities, what
course have we took to allure the former, that we
might engage the latter to our assistance ? But
we have took all ways to affright scholars from look-
* Gaspar Streso.

1.4 RELIGION THE BEST [Disc. IV.
ing towards this sacred calling. For will men lay
out their -wit and judgment upon that employment,
for the undertaking of which, both will be question
ed ? Would men, not long since, have spent toilsome
days and watchful nights, in the quest of knoivledge
preparative to this work, at length to come and dance
attendance for approbation, upon a junto of petty ty
rants, who denied fitness from learning, and grace
from morality ? Will a man exhaust his livelihood
upon books, and his health, the best part of his life,
upon study, to be at length thrust into a poor village,
where he shall have his due precariously, and intreat
for his own ; and when he has it, live poorly and con
temptibly upon it, while the same or less labour, be
stowed upon any other calling, would bring not only
maintenance but abundance ? 'Tis, I confess, the du
ty of ministers to endure this condition ; but neither
religion nor reason does oblige either them to ap
prove, or others to choose it. Doubtless, parents will
not throw away the towardness of a child, and the
expense of education, upon a profession, the labour
of which is increased, and the rewards of which are
vanished. To condemn promising, lively parts to con
tempt and penury in a despised calling, what is it
else but the casting of a Moses into the mud, or of
fering a son upon the altar; and instead of a priest
to make him a sacrifice ? Neither let any here re
ply, that it becomes not a ministerial spirit to un
dertake such a calling for reward ; for they must
know that it is one thing to undertake it for a reward,
and not to be willing to undertake it without one.
* * * * gut besides, suppose it were the duty of
scholars to choose this calling in the midst of all dis
couragements ; yet a prudent governor, who knows it
to be his wisdom as well as his duty, to take the best
course to advance religion, will not consider men's
duty, but their practice ; not what they ought to do,
but what they use to do ; and therefore draw over the

Disc. IV.] REASON OF STATE. 85
best qualified to his service, by such ways as are most
apt to persuade and induce men. Solomon built his
temple with the tallest cedars ; and surely, when God
refused the defective and the maimed for sacrifice, we
cannot think that he requires them for the priesthood.
When learning, abilities, and what is excellent in the
world, forsake the church, we may easily foretell its
ruin, without the gift of prophecy. And when igno
rance succeeds, we may be sure, heresy and confusion
will quickly come in the room of religion. For un
doubtedly there is no way so effectual to betray the
truth, as to procure it a weak defender.
Well now, let us make a brief recapitulation of the
whole. Government, we see, depends upon religion,
and religion upon the encouragement of those that
are to dispense and assert it. For the farther evidence
of which truths, we need not travel beyond our own
borders ; but leave it to every one impartially to judge,
whether from the very first day that our religion was
unsettled, and church government flung out of doors,
the civil government has ever been able to fix upon a
sure foundation. We have been changing even to a
proverb. The indignation of heaven has been rolling
and turning us from one form to another, till at length
such a giddiness seized upon the government, that it
fell into the very dregs of sectaries, who threatened an
equal ruin both to minister and magistrate ; and how
the state has sympathized with the church, is apparent.
For have not our princes, as well as our priests, been
of the lowest of the people ? Have not coblers, dray
men, mechanics, governed, as well as preached ? Nay,
have not they by preaching come to govern ? Was
ever that of Solomon more verified, that servants have
rid, while princes and nobles have gone on foot ? But
God has been pleased, by a miracle of mercy, to dis
sipate this chaos, and to give us some dawnings of
liberty and settlement. But now, let not those who
are to rebuild our Jerusalem, think that the temple

86 RELIGION THE BEST &C [Disc. IV.
must be built last. For if there be such a thing as
a God, and religion, as whether men believe it or no,
they will one day find and feel, assuredly he will stop
our liberty, till we restore him his worship. Besides,
it is a senseless thing in reason, to think that one of
these interests can stand without the other, when in
the very order of natural causes, government is pre
served by religion.
But to return to Jeroboam with whom we first be
gan. He laid the foundation of his government in
destroying, though doubtless he coloured it with the
name of reforming God's worship ; but see the issue.
Consider him cursed by God, maintaining his usurped
title, by continual vexatious wars against the kings of
Judah; smote in his posterity, which was made like
the dung upon the face of the earth, as low and vile
as those priests whom he had employed : consider him
branded to all after ages ; and now, when his kingdom
and glory was at an end, and he and his posterity rot
ting under ground, and his name stinking above it,
judge what a worthy prize he made in getting of a
kingdom, by destroying the church. Wherefore the
sum of all is this ; to advise those whom it may con
cern, to consider Jeroboam's punishment, and then they
will have little heart to Jeroboam's sin.

DISCOURSE V.*

THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED.

MATTH. xiii. 52.
Then said he unto them, therefore every scribe which
is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven, is like
unto a man that is an householder, which bringeth
forth out of his treasure things new and old.
In this chapter we have a large discourse from the
great Preacher of righteousness ; a discourse fraught
with all the commending excellencies of speech ; de
lightful for its variety, admirable for its convincing
quickness, and argumentative closeness, and (which is
seldom an excellency in other sermons) excellent for
its length.
For that, which is carried on with a continued un
flagging vigour of expression, can never be thought
tedious, nor long. And Christ, who was not only the
Preacher, but himself also the Word, was furnished
with a strain of. heavenly oratory far above the heights
of all human rhetoric whatsoever; his sermons being
of that grace, that (as the world generally goes) they
[ * One of the earliest public sermons we have of South," says the
Retrospective Review, " is, ' The Scribe Instructed,' and ought to be
read by every scribe ' which is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven.'
He was then a young man, but possessed all the wisdom and excellent
good sense which mature age and experience can give. He had
already amassed a treasure of rich and useful knowledge, which he
produced at once to instruct, astonish, and confound." — Ed.]

88 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
might have prevailed even without truth, and yet preg
nant with such irresistible truth, that the ornaments
might have been spared ; and indeed it still seems to
have been used, rather to gratify, than persuade the
hearer. So that we may (with a reverential acknowl
edgment both of the difference of the persons and the
subject) give that testimony of Christ's sermons, which
Cicero, (the great master of the Roman eloquence) did
of Demosthenes' orations, who, being asked which of
them was the best, answered the longest.
Our Saviour having finished his foregoing discourse,
he now closes up all with the character of a preacher
or evangelist ; still addressing himself to his disciples,
as to a designed seminary of preachers ; or rather in
deed, as to a kind of little itinerant academy (if I may
so call it) of such as were to take his heavenly doc
trines for the rule of their practice ; and his excellent
way of preaching, for the pattern of their imitation ;
thus lying at the feet of their blessed Lord, with the
humblest attention of scholars, and the lowest prostra
tion of subjects. The very name and notion of a dis
ciple implying, and the nature of the thing itself re
quiring, both these qualifications.
Now the discussion of the words before us shall lie
in these following particulars : in showing what is
meant, 1st, By the Scribe. 2dly, By being instructed
unto the Kingdom of Heaven. 3dly, By bringing out
of his treasure things new and old ; and how upon
this account he stands compared to an householder.
And 1. concerning the word Scribe. It was a name,
which amongst the Jews was applied to two sorts of
officers. (1.) To a civil; and so it signifies a notary, or in a
large sense, any one employed to draw up deeds or
writings. Whether in an higher station, as we read in
the 2 Kings, xxii. that Shaphan was the king's scribe
or secretary ; or, as in a lower sense, we find this ap
pellation given to that officer, who appeared in quelling

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 89
the uproar at Ephesus, as we read in Acts xix. 35.
where he is called ygafifiaxtv?, which we may fitly
render, (as our English text does) the town-cleifc. To
this sort also some would refer those mentioned in
Matth. ii. who are there called the scribes of the people.
********
(2.) This name scribe signifies a church officer, one
skilful in the law to interpret and explain it. For still
we find the scribes reckoned with the great doctors of
the Jewish church, and for the most part with the Pha
risees in the evangelists, and by St. Paul with the dis-
puter of this world, 1 Cor. i. 20. and sometimes called
also vofjuxol, lawyers, (Luke vii. 30. Luke xi. 52.)
that is, expert in the Mosaic law. Not that these
scribes were really any part of the Pharisees, (as some
have thought,) for Pharisee was the name of a sect,
scribe of an office. By scribe therefore must be here
meant an expounder of the law to the people ; such an
one as Ezra, that excellent person, so renowned amongst
the Jews, who is said to have been a ready scribe in
the law of Moses. For though, indeed, the word
scribe in the English and Latin imports barely a writer,
and the Greek, by its derivation from yqdcpa, strictly
signifies no more ; yet by its nearer derivation from
ygd^ifia. which signifies a letter, it seems to represent
to us, that these scribes were men of the bare letter or
text, whose business it was to give the literal sense and
meaning of the law. And therefore, that the men here
spoken of, whom the Jews accounted of such eminent
skill in it, should by their office be only transcribers of
it, can with no more reason, I think, be affirmed, than
if we should allow him to be a skilful divine, who
should transcribe other men's works, and, which is
more, preach them when he had done. But,
2. As for being instructed unto the kingdom of
heaven. By the kingdom of heaven is here signified to
us, only the preaching of the gospel, or the str>te of the
ehurch, under the gospel ; as, repent, for the kingdom
12

90 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [DlSC. V.
of heaven is at hand, that is, the gospel is shortly to be
preached. Now Ave are to take notice, that it was the
Avay of Christ in his preaching to the Jews, to express
the offices and things belonging to his church under
the gospel, by alluding to those of the Jewish under
the law, as being familiar to them. Hence he calls a
preacher of the gospel, a scribe ; and this from the
a.ialogy of Avhat the scribe did in the explication of the
law, with what the gospel minister was to do, in preach
ing and pressing home the doctrines of Christianity
upon the heart and conscience ; much the harder work
(God knows) of the two.
Noav the word, which we here render instructed, in
the Greek is fiadnxzvOds, one who was schooled or dis
ciplined to the work by long exercise and study. He
was not to be inspired or blown into the ministry. He
was to fetch his preparations from industry, not infu
sion. And forasmuch as Christ's design was to ex
press evangelical officers by legal, this resemblance
was to hold, at least, in the qualification of the persons,
viz. that as the scribe of the law did with much labour
stock himself with all variety of learning requisite to
find out the sense of the same, so the evangelical scribe
should bring as much learning, and bestow as much
labour in his employment, as the other did in his ; es
pecially since it required as much, and deserved a great
deal more.
3. And so pass we to show the bringing out of his
treasure, things new and old. By treasure is here sig
nified that, which in Latin is called penus, a store
house, or repository; and the bringing out thence things
neAV and old was (as some are of opinion) a kind of
proverb amongst the Hebrews, expressing a man's giv
ing a liberal entertainment to his friends. And accord
ingly, as here borrowed from the householder, and ap
plied to the gospel scribe in the text, it makes the drift
of the whole parable to amount to this : that as the
former, if a man of substance, of a large stock, and as

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 91
large a mind, will entertain his friends and guests with
plenty and variety of provision, ansAverable to the dif
ference of men's palates, as well as the difference of
the season ; not confining them to the same standing
common fare, but, as occasion requires, adding some
thing of more cost and rarity besides ; so our gospel
scribe, in the entertainment of his spiritual guests, is
not always to set before them, only the main substan-
tials of religion, whether for belief, or practice, but as
the matter shall require, to add also illustration to the
one, and enforcement to the other, sometimes persuad
ing, sometimes terrifying, and accordingly addressing
himself to the afflicted with gospel lenitives, and to the
obstinate with legal corrosives ; and since the relish of
all is not the same, he is to apply to the vulgar with
plain familiar similitudes, and to the learned Avith great
er choiceness of language, and closeness of argument ;
and moreover, since every age of the church more pe
culiarly needs the clearer discussion of some truth or
other, then more particularly opposed ; therefore to the
inculcating the acknowledged points of Christianity, he
is to add something of the controversies, opinions, and
vices of the times ; otherwise he cannot reach men's
minds and inclinations, which are apt to be argued this
way or that, according to different times and occasions ;
and consequently he falls so far short of a good orator,
and much more of an accurate preacher.
This, I conceive, is the full sense of the words, and
which I shall yet farther strengthen with this observa
tion : " That we shall find that Christ's design all along
the evangelists was to place the economy of the church
under the gospel, above that of the Jewish under the
laWj as more excellent in every particular." Now it
was the way of the scribes then, to dwell wholly upon
the letter of the law, and what Moses said ; showing
the construction, the coherence, and force of his words,
only sometimes sprinkling them a little with tradition,
and the pompous allegation of their ancient rabbies,

92 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
igfrfdn tot? dg%aiois. But Christ, who, we read,
taught with authority, as one not only expounding, but
commanding the words, took a freedom of expression,
in showing, not the sense of Moses only, but the farther
intent of God himself speaking to Moses ; and then
clothing this sense in parables, similitudes, and other
advantages of rhetoric, so as to give it an easier en
trance into the mind and affections ; and what he
did himself, he recommended to his disciples. So that,
I think, we may not unfitly account for the mean
ing of our Saviour thus : You see how the scribes of
the latv with much niceness confine themselves to the
letter of Moses, but the scribe who is instructed unto the
kingdom of heaven, must not dwell only upon the let
ter and shell of things, but often enlarge upon the sub
ject, adapting his discourse to the various circumstances,
tempers, and apprehensions of his hearers ; and so let
ting it rise or fall in the degrees of its plainness or
quickness, according to his hearers' dulness or docility.
Thus, I hope, I have made out the full import of the
words, and the design of our Saviour in them, which I
shall noAV more thoroughly prosecute in this proposi
tion, naturally resulting from them so explained, viz.
That the greatest advantages, both as to natural and
acquired abilities, are not only consistent with, but re
quired to the. due performance of the work of a preacher
of the gospel.
Not that I affirm, that every one, who has not such
a furniture of parts and knoAvledge, is therefore wholly
unfit to be a preacher ; for then most of us might for
ever sit down and adore, but not venture upon this
work. But in giving a rule for any thing or action,
we must assign the utmost perfection, which either of
them is capable of, and to which men ought to aspire ;
not to which thev of necessity must or can attain.
We know the copy always falls short of the original,
and the performance of the precept. But still the rule
must be absolute ; otherwise we should never look

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 93
upon our improvement as our duty, or our imperfections,
as our dejects.
In the handling of the proposition drawn forth, I
shall show,
I. What qualifications are required to a minister
of the word, from the force of the comparison between
him and the scribe.
II. The reasons to evince their necessity.
III. I shall draw some inferences from the whole.
I. Concerning the qualifications required, &.c. I shall
bring them under these two.
First, An ability of the powers and faculties of the
mind. And Second, An habitual preparation of the
same, by exercise and improvement.
Which two, I conceive, contain all that both nature
and art can do in this matter. And
First, A natural ability of the powers and faculties
of the mind. And what these are is apparent, viz.
judgment, memory, and invention.
*********
1st, For that great leading one, the Judgment;
without which, how can any controversy in philoso
phy or divinity be duly stated or determined ? How
can that which is ambiguous be cleared, that which
is fallacious be detected, or even truth itself be de
fended ? How, where the words of scripture may
bear several senses, some proper, and some figurative,
can we be assured, which the speaker of them intend
ed ? How also, without this, when a scripture has
been corrupted, partly by filching some words out of
it, and partly by a supposititious foisting of some in,
shall the whole be rescued from the imposture pass
ed upon it, and so restored ? And lastly, how shall
many seeming clashings, and dark passages in sacred
history and chronology be placed in such a light, as
may throughly satisfy, or at least silence the doubt
ful and exceptious ? All which particulars (with many
more of the like nature) being confessedly knotty,

94 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
can never be accorded, but by a competent stock of
critical learning; and can any one (even according to
the very signification of the word) be said to be a
critic, and yet not judicious ? And then,
2d, For Memory. This may be reckoned two
fold. 1. That which serves to treasure up our read
ing or observations. And 2. That which serves to
suggest to us, in our reciting of any thing, which we
had endeavoured to commit to our memory before.
I distinguish them, because one may be, and often is
excellent, where the other is deficient. But now, were
this never so large, yet theology is of that vast compass,
as to employ and exhaust it. For what volumes are
there of antiquity, church history, &c. which well de
serve reading ; and to what purpose do we read, ifwe
cannot remember ? But then also, for the reciting part
of memory, that is so necessary, that Cicero himself
observes of oratory,* (which indeed, upon a sacred sub
ject, is preaching) that upon the want of memory alone,
omnia, etiamsi prceclarissima fuerint, in oratore peri-
tura. And Ave know that to a popular auditory it is
upon the matter, all. There being, in the esteem of
many, but little difference between sermons read, and
homilies, only that homilies are much better. And then,
3d, For Invention. A faculty acting chiefly in the
strength of what is offered it by the imagination. This
is so far from being admitted by many as necessary,
that it is decried by them as utterly unlawful ; such
grand exemplars, I mean, as make their own abilities
the sole measure of what is fit or unfit, so that what
they themselves cannot reach, others, forsooth, ought
not to attempt. But I see not why divinity should
suffer for their narrowness, and be deprived of the ser
vice of a most excellent endowment of the mind, and
which gives a shine to all the rest. For I reckon up
on this as a great truth, that there can be no endowment
in the soul of man, but may even in its choicest operations
* Primo Libro de Oratore.

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 95
be sanctified and employed in the work of the ministry.
And there is also another principle, Avhich I account
altogether as true as the former ; namely, that piety
engages no man to be dull ; though lately, I confess, it
passed with some for a mark of regeneration. And
Avhen I shall see these principles disproved, I shall be
ready to grant all exercise of the fancy or invention, in
the handling things sacred, to be unlawful. As fancy,
indeed, is often taken in the worst sense for a conceit
ed, whimsical brain, which is apt to please itself in
odd and ungrounded notions ; so I confess, that noth
ing is more destructive of true divinity ; but then I
must add withal, that if fancy be taken in this sense,
those who damn it in its other sober acceptation, have
much the greatest share of it themselves. But if, on the
other hand, we take fancy for that power of the mind,
which suggests opposite and pertinent expressions, and
handsome ways of setting off those truths, which the
judgment has rationally pitched upon, it will be found
full as useful as any of all the three mentioned by us,
in the work of preaching, and consequently slighted by
none but such as envy that in others, which they are
never like to be envied for the want of in themselves.
He therefore, who thinks to be a scribe instructed &c.
without a competency of judgment, memory, and in
vention, attempts a great superstructure, where there
is no foundation ; and this, surely, is a very preposte
rous way to edify either himself or others.
And thus much for the first of the two qualifications
of our evangelical scribe. I proceed now to the
Second, Which was an habitual preparation by ex
ercise and due improvement of the same. Powers act
but weakly and irregularly, till they are heightened
and perfected by their habits. A well radicated habit,
in a lively, vegete faculty, is like an apple of gold in a
picture of silver ; 'tis perfection upon perfection, 'tis a
coat of mail upon our armour, and, in a word, it is the
raising of the soul, at least, one story higher. Now it

96 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
is not enough to have books, or for a man to have his
divinity in his pocket, or upon the shelf; but he must
have mastered his notions, till they incorporate into
his mind, so as to be able to produce and wield them
upon all occasions ; and not Avhen a difficulty is pro
posed, to say, that he will consult such and such au
thors : For this is not to be a divine, who is rather to
be a walking library, than a walking index. As, to
go no farther than the similitude in the text, we should
not account him a good or generous housekeeper, Avho
should not have ahvays something of standing provision
by him, so as never to be surprised, but that he should
still be found able to treat his friend at least, though
perhaps not always presently to feast him : So the
scribe here spoken of should have an inward sufficiency
to support and bear him up ; especially where present
performance urges, and actual preparation can be but
short. Thus, it is not the oil in the wick, but in the
vessel, which must feed the lamp. The former in
deed may cause a present blaze, but it is the latter
which must give it a lasting light. It is not the spend
ing money a man has in his pocket, but his hoards in
the chest, or in the bank, which must make him rich.
A dying man has his breath in his nostrils, but to have
it in the lungs is that which must preserve life. Nor
will it suffice to have raked up a few notions here and
there, or to rally up all one's little utmost into one dis
course, which can constitute a divine, or give a man
stock enough to set up with, any more than a soldier
who had filled his snapsack should thereupon set up for
keeping house. No ; a man would then quickly be
drained, his short stock would serve but for one meet
ing in ordinary converse, and he would be in danger of
meeting with the same company twice. And there
fore there must be store, plenty, and a treasure, lest he
turn broker in divinity, and having run the rounds of a
beaten exhausted common place, be forced to stand
still, or go the same round over again ; pretending to

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 97
his auditors, that it is profitable for them to hear the
same truths often inculcated to them ; though, i hum
bly conceive, that to inculcate the same truths, is not
of necessity to repeat the same words. And therefore
to avoid such beggarly pretences, there must be an
habitual preparation as to the work we are now speak
ing of. And that in two respects.
1. In respect of the generality of knoivledge re
quired to it. The truth is, if we consider that great
multitude of things to be known, and the labour and
time required to the knoAvledge of each particular, it is
enough to discourage all attempt, and cause a careless
despair. What Hippocrates said of the cure of the
body, is much truer of the cure of the soul, that life is
short, and art long. And I might add also, that the
mind is weak and narrow, and the business difficult
and large. And should I say, that preaching was the
least part of a divine, it would, I believe, be thought a
bold word, and look like a paradox, (as the world goes)
but perhaps, for all that, never the farther from being
a great truth. For is it not a greater thing, to untie
the knots of many intricate controversies ? To stop the
mouths of gainsayers, whereas some of them are so
opposite amongst themselves, that you can hardly con
fute one, but with arguments taken from the other,
though both of them equally erroneous ? In which and
the like cases, to carry an argument for the defence of
truth so warily, that an adversary shall not sometimes
be able to pervert it to the support of an error, since,
though the argument may be materially the same, yet
the different management of it may produce quite
different inferences from it ; this, no doubt, is a
matter of great difficulty, and no less dexterity. And
the like also may be said of casuistical divinity for
resolving cases of conscience ; especially where seve
ral obligations seem to interfere and jostle one anoth
er, so that it seems impossible to the conscience to
turn either way without sin. To clear a way out of
13

98 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V-
which, being a work certainly depending upon much
knowledge of the canon and civil laws, as well as of
the principles of divinity, it must needs require much
labour for the casuist to provide himself Avith mate
rials for this purpose, and then no less art and skill
to apply them to the conscience. And as it is high
ly requisite, that this should in some measure be found
in every divine, and in its perfection in some, which,
since it cannot well be, but by the whole employ
ment of a man's time, not diverted by other minis
terial business, it so far shows the happy constitution
of such churches as afford place of suitable scholastic
maintenance (without the trouble of a pastoral charge)
for such, whose abilities carry them to the study of the
controversial or critical part of theology, rather than
any other belonging to the ministry. But on the con
trary, where there is no such proper maintenance allot
ted for a divine, but by preaching only, let us suppose
that which in such a case we easily may : That one
had a peculiar inclination to controversy, or to dive in
to antiquity, or to search critically into the original
letter of the scriptures, and withal had little inclination,
and perhaps less ability, to preach, but yet knew no
other way to live as a divine, but by preaching. Do
we not here lose an excellent casuist, an accurate
critic, or profound school divine, only to make a very
mean preacher ? Who, had he had the forementioned en
couragement, might have been eminently serviceable
to the church in any of those other ways, while he
only serves the necessities of life in this. And this
has been observed by a learned knight,* to have been
an inconvenience even in those days when the revenues
of the church were not wholly reformed from it ; that
for our not then setting aside whole societies for the
managing of controversies and nothing else, as the
church of Rome finds it necessary to do, divines for the
most part handle controversies only as a diversion in the
* Sir Edwyn Sandys in his Europse Speculum.

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 99
midst of their pastoral labours, and many of them have
performed it accordingly. For as a man's faculties
will not suffice him for all arts and sciences, so nei
ther will they sometimes reach all the parts and dif
ficulties of any of them. But the late times made the
matter yet ten times worse with us, when the rooters
and through-reformers made clean work with the church,
and so by stripping the clergy of their rights and prefer
ments, left us in a fair posture (you may be sure) both
offensive and defensive, to encounter our acute and
learned adversaries the Jesuits. For then the polemics
of the field had quite silenced those of the schools. All
being busied, some in pulpits, and some in tubs, in the
grand work of holding forth, and of edification, (as the
word then went,) so that they seemed like an army of
men armed only with trowels, and perhaps amongst
thousands only a Saul and a Jonathan with swords in
their hands, only one or two with scholastic artillery
for controversy.* But this by the way, and as a sad
instance to show how fatal it is, that when divinity
takes in so large a compass of learning, and that for so
many uses, the church should be robbed of the proper
and most effectual means of stocking herself with it.
But some perhaps will reply ; what needs all this?
we are resolved to preach only, and for this much read
ing cannot be requisite, except only for the delivery of
our sermons : for we will preach our own experiences.
To which I answer, that be this as it may ; but yet if
these men preach their own experiences (as they call
them) without some other sort of knoAvledge, both their
hearers and themselves too, will quickly have more
[* " Wollebius in English" occurs among the works sneeringly de
tailed by South, while touching on the same topic in the preceding
sermon (p. 80), as making the theological preparation of many in his
time; puritan preachers, of course, we aie to understand. It may not
be out of place here to mention, that this despised and now utterly for
gotten author, in the original Latin however, was, less than fifty years
ago, the theological text-book in our own University. When it is borne
in mind, how deeply, in earlier times, its English friends gave the tone
and character to that institution, it strikingly illustrates and confirms
the sarcasm of South.— Ed.]

100 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
than sufficient experience of their confidence and ridicu
lous impertinence. But as there are certain mounte
banks in physic, so there are much the same also in
divinity, such as have only two or three little experi
ments and popular harangues to amuse the vulgar
with ; but being wholly unacquainted with the solid
grounds and rules of science, from whence alone come
true sufficiency and skill, they are pitifully ignorant
and useless as to any great and worthy purposes, and
fit for little else but to show the world how easily
fools may be imposed upon by knaves. Besides which,
there is required also,
2d, The like preparation as to significant speech
and expression. For as I show, that by knowledge a
man informs himself, so by expression he conveys that
knowledge to others ; and as bare words convey, so
the propriety and elegancy of them gives force and fa
cility to the conveyance. But because this is like to
have more opposers, especially such as call a speaking
coherently upon any sacred subject, a blending of
man's wisdom ivilh the word, an offering of strange
fire ; and account the being pertinent, even the next
door to the being profane, 1 say, for their sakes, I shall
prove a thing clear in itself by scripture, and that not
by arguments, or consequences drawn from thence, but
by doAvnright instances occurring in it, and those so
very plain, that eAren such as themselves cannot be ig
norant of them. For in God's Avord we have not only
a body of religion, but also a system of the best rheto
ric. And as the highest things require the highest ex
pressions, so shall we find nothing in scripture so sub
lime in itself, but it is reached, and sometimes over
topped by the sublimity of the expression. And first,
where did majesty ever ride, in more splendor, than in
those descriptions of the divine power in Job xxxviii.
xxxix. and xl. ? And Avhat triumph was ever celebrated
with livelier and more exalted poetry, than in the song
of Moses, Deut. xxxii. ? And then for the passions of

DISC. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 101
the soul ; which being things of the most wonderful
and various operation in human nature, are therefore
the proper object of rhetoric : Let us take a view how
the scripture expresses the most noted and powerful of
them. And here what poetry ever paralleled Solomon
in his description of love, as to all the ways, effects,
and extasies, and little tyrannies of that command
ing passion ? See Ovid with his omnia vincit amor, &c.
And Virgil with his vulnus alit venis cy cceco carpitur
igne, &c. Hoav jejune and thin are they to the po
etry of Solomon, Canticles viii. 6. Love is strong as
death, and jealousy cruel as the grave ? And as for
beauty, he describes that so, that he even transcribes
it into his expressions. And where do we read such
strange risings and fallings, now the faintings and
languishings, now the terrors and astonishments of des
pair venting themselves in such high amazing strains,
as in Psalm lxxvii ? Or where did we ever find sor
row flowing forth in such a natural prevailing pathos,
as in the Lamentations of Jeremy ? One would think,
that every letter was wrote with a tear, every word
was the noise of a breaking heart ; that the author
was a man compacted of sorrows ; disciplined to grief
from his infancy ; one who never breathed but in sighs,
nor spoke but in a groan. So that he,* who said he
would not read the scripture for fear of spoiling his
style, showed himself as much a blockhead as an athe
ist, and to have as small a gust of the elegancies of
expression, as of the sacredness of the matter. And
shall we now think that the scripture forbids all orna
ment of speech, and engages men to be dull, flat, and
slovenly in their discourses ? But let us look a little
further, and see whether the New Testament abro
gates what we see so frequently used in the Old ? And
for this, what mean all the parables used by our Sa
viour, the known and greatest elegancies of speech ?
So that, if this way was unlawful before, Christ by his
* Politian.

102 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
example has authorized it since, and, if good and law
ful, has confirmed it. But as for the men whom we
contend with ; I see not why they should exterminate
all rhetoric, who still treat of things figuratively, and
by the worst of figures too, their whole discourse be
ing one continued Meiosis to lessen and debase the
great things of the gospel below themselves. Besides
that I need not go beyond the very w7ords of the text
for an impregnable proof of this : For Christ says, that
a scribe instructed &c. ought to bring out of his trea
sure things new and old. Noav I demand, what are
the things here to be understood ? For as to the mat
ter he is to treat of, the articles of the Christian re
ligion are and still must be the same, and therefore
there can be no such variety as new and old in them.
Wherefore it can be only in the Avay of expressing those
things. Besides that our Saviour, in these words, par
ticularly relates to the manner of his own preaching,
upon occasion of the very sermon, which we find all
along this chapter delivered in parables ; so that by
new and old may be meant nothing else, but a fluent
dexterity of the most suitable words and pregnant ar
guments, to set off gospel truths. For questionless,
when Christ says, that a scribe must be stocked with
things new and old, We must not think that he meant,
that he should have a hoard of old sermons, (who
soever made them) with a bundle of new opinions; for
this certainly would have furnished out such entertain
ment to his spiritual guests, as no rightly-disposed
palate could ever relish, or stomach bear. And there
fore the thing which Christ here drives at, must needs
be copiousness of sacred eloquence.
II. And thus much for the first of the three general
heads proposed by us ; which was to show the qualifi
cations necessary for a gospel scribe instructed &c. I
proceed noAV to the second, to assign the reasons of
this their necessity ; and these shall be three.
1. Because the preacher works upon men's minds

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 103
only as a moral agent, and as one who can do no more
than persuade, and not by any physical efficiency. And
herein I do not say, that conversion is caused only by
moral suasion : For if we consider the strength of our
corruption, and how it has seized upon those powers
which are but little under the command of the intellec
tual part, I think it cannot be subdued by meer suasion,
which in its utmost reaches only to the convincing of
that : But the heart must be changed by a much higher
power, even by an immediate work of God's Spirit infus
ing a quality into the soul, not there before, which by de
grees shall Aveaken, and work out our inherent corrup
tion ; and this being a creating work, is done solely
and immediately by God himself, forasmuch as being
an effect of that infinite power, which cannot be con
veyed to an instrumental agent.
But you will say then, if conversion be the sole work
of God, what need is there of a preacher ? And how
can he be said to be God's instrument in the work of
a man's conversion ; to which I answer, 1st, That God's
institution of preaching is a sufficient reason for it,
though we knew7 no other. 2d, That when the preach
er is said to be an instrument in the conversion of a
sinner, it is not meant, that he is such by a properly
physical efficiency, but only morally, and by persuasion.
1 explain my meaning thus. A physical instrument is
that, which, partaking of the force and casuality of the
principal agent from thence derived to it, produces a
suitable effect. As when I divide a thing, the force of
my hand is conveyed to the knife, by virtue of which
the knife cuts or divides. And thus, I say, the preach
er cannot be the instrument of conversion, because that
infinite Power, which does convert, cannot be conveyed
to any finite being whatsoever. But a moral instru
ment is quite of another nature ; and is that, (as I may
so express it,) Non quo producente, sed quo interveni-
ente sequitur effectus. Not that which conversion is
effected by, but that without which (ordinarily at least)

104 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
it is not. So that while the minister is preaching and
persuading, God puts forth another secret influence,
quite different from that of the preacher, though still
going along with it ; and it is this, by which God im
mediately touches the sinner's heart, and converts him.
Howbeit, the preacher is still said to be instrumental
in this great work, God not being pleased to exert his
action, but in concurrence with the preacher exerting
his. And thus having given God his prerogative, and
the preacher his due, I infer the necessity of those
forementioned abilities and preparations for preach
ing, as being the most proper means of persuasion.
See this exemplified in St. Paul himself; when he
deals with the Jews, how he endeavours to insinuate
what he says, by pleading his own kindred with them,
speaking honourably of Abraham and of the law, and
calling the gospel the law of faith; and affirming, that
it did establish the law. All which was the true art
of natural rhetoric, thus to convey his sense under
those names and notions, which he knew were highly
pleasing to them. But then, when he would win
over the Gentiles; forasmuch as there was a stand
ing feud between them and the Jews, (the Jews, like
the men here of late, for ever unsainting all the world
besides themselves,) observe how he deals with them.
He tells them of the rejection of the Jews, and the
Gentiles being ingrafted in their room ; and that Abra
ham believed unto justification before he was circum
cised, and therefore was no less the father of the un-
circumcised believers, than of the circumcised. He
takes occasion also to undervalue circumcision and
the ceremonial law, as abused by the Jews, and in
themselves things most hateful to other nations. Now
all this was hugely pleasing to the Gentiles, and there
fore very apt to persuade. But had not St. Paul been
a man of learning and skill in the art of rhetoric, he
could not have suited such opposite exhortations to
such different sorts of men with so much dexterity.

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 105
And the same course, in dealing with men's minds, is a
minister of the word to take now. * * * And now what
can this be grounded upon, but upon natural philoso
phy, and a knowledge of men's passions and interests,
the great springs of all their actions ? And upon the
like ground it is, that for a preacher in his discourses
to the people to insist only upon universals, is but a
cold, languid way of persuading or dissuading ; as to
tell men in general, that they are sinners, and that go
ing on in sin without repentance, they are under the
wrath of God ; all which they think they knew before,
and accordingly receive it as a word of course. But
conviction, the usual forerunner of conversion, is from
particulars, as if the preacher should tell his hearers,
that he who continues to cheat, cozen, and equivocate ;
that he who drinks, and swears, and whores, is the
person to whom the curse directly belongs. This se
riously urged, and discreetly applied, will, if any thing,
carry it home to the conscience. And now is not the
reason of this method also to be fetched from philoso
phy, as well as from religion ? For we know, that
men naturally have only a confused knowledge of uni
versals, but a lively idea of particulars. And that
which gives a clear representation of a thing to the
apprehension, makes a suitable impression of it upon
the will and affections. Whosoever therefore pretends
to be a preacher, must know, that his main business is
to persuade, and that without the helps of human learn
ing, this can hardly be done to any purpose. So that
if he finds himself wholly destitute • of these, and has
nothing else to trust to, but some groundless, windy,
and phantastic notions about the Spirit, (the common
sanctuary of fanatics and enthusiasts,) he would do
well to look back, and taking his hand off from this
plough, to put it to another, much fitter for him. But
in the mean time, as for ourselves, who pretend not to
a pitch above other mortals, we must rest content to
revere the wisdom, and follow the examples of those
14

106 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. X .,
who went before us, and enjoined us the study of the
arts and sciences, as the surest and most tried way to
that of divinity.
2. The necessity of these preparations shall be taken
from this consideration : That at the first promulgation
of the gospel, God was pleased to furnish the preach
ers of it with abilities proper for that great work, after
a miraculous way. For still we find, that the scripture
represents the apostles as illiterate men, and that the
chief priests and elders of the Jews took particular no
tice of them as such, Acts iv. 13. They were
dvdganoi dygdfifiaxoi xai ISiaxai, that is to say, ac
cording to the strict signification of the word, men un
learned, and of a mean and plebeian condition. Nev
ertheless, since they were appointed by God to preach
the gospel to several nations ; a work requiring a con
siderable knowledge of the languages of those nations,
and impossible to be performed without it ; and yet no
less impossible for the apostles, having neither time
nor opportunity to acquire that knowledge in the ordi
nary course of study ; God himself supplies this defect,
and endues them with all necessary qualifications by-
immediate and divine infusion. So that being filled
with the Holy Ghost, they forthwith spoke with other
tongues ; and that so clearly and intelligibly, as both
to convince and astonish all who heard them, even
those of the most different nations and languages, as
well as their own countrymen the Jews themselves.
From whence I thus argue : That if the forementioned
helps were not always of most singular use, and some
times of indispensable necessity to the calling of a di
vine, certainly the most wise God would never have
been at the expense of a miracle, to endow men with
them. For he, who observes that order in all his
works, as never to overdo any thing, nor carry on the
business of his ordinary Providence by extraordinary
ways, would doubtless (in the eye of the world at
least) seem to make cheap those noblest instances of

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 107
his power, should he ever exert them but where he
saw it of the highest concern to his own honour and
man's happiness, that something should be done for
both, which bare nature, left to itself, could never
do. 3. The last reason for the necessity of such prepa
rations for the ministry, shall be drawn from the dig
nity of the subject of it, which is divinity. And what
is divinity, but a doctrine treating of the nature, attri
butes, and works of the great God, as he stands re
lated to rational creatures ? And the way how rational
creatures may serve and enjoy him ? And if so, is. not
the subject matter of it the greatest, and the design of
it the noblest in the world, as being no less than to di
rect an immortal soul to its endless felicity ? It has
been disputed, to which of the intellectual habits, men
tioned by Aristotle, it most properly belongs ; some
referring it to wisdom, some to science, some to pru
dence, and some compounding it of several of them to
gether. But those seem to speak most to the purpose,
who will not have it formally any one of them, but
virtually, and in an eminent transcendant manner, all.
And now can we think, that a doctrine of that depth,
that height, and that vast compass, grasping within
it all the dimensions of human science, does not wor
thily claim all the preparations, whereby the wit and
industry of man can fit him for it ? All other sci
ences are accounted but handmaids to divinity ; and
shall the handmaid be richer adorned and better set
off, than her lady ? In other things, the art usually
excels the matter, and the ornament we bestow, is
better than the subject we bestow it upon. But here
we are sure, that we have such a subject before us,
as not only calls for, but commands and deserves our
utmost application to it ; a subject of that inherent
worth, that it is not capable of any addition from us,
but shines through all the artificial lustre we can put up
on it. The study of divinity is indeed difficult, and

108 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [DlSC. V.
we are to labour hard, and dig deep for it ; but then
we dig in a golden mine, which equally invites and re
wards our labour.
III. And so we pass at length to show, what useful
inferences may be drawn from the foregoing particulars.
And the first shall be a just and severe reproof to two
sorts of men.
1 . To such as detract from the grandeur of the gos
pel, by a puerile and indecent levity in their discourses
of it to the people.
2. To such as depreciate, and (as much as in them
lies) debase the same, by a coarse, careless, rude, and
insipid way of handling the great and invaluable truths
of it ; both of them certainly objects of the most de
served reproof.
1. For those who disparage the gospel, by a puerile
and indecent sort of levity in their discourses upon it,
so extremely below the subject discoursed of. All
vain, luxuriant allegories, rhyming cadences of similary
words, are such pitiful embellishments of speech, as
serve for nothing, but to embase divinity ; and the use
of them, but like the plaistering of marble, or the paint
ing of gold, the glory of which is to be seen, and to
shine by no other lustre but their own. What Quin-
tilian most discreetly says of Seneca's handling philoso
phy, that he did rerum pondera minutissimis sententiis
frangere, break, and, as it were, emasculate the weight
of his subject by little affected sentences, the same
may with much more reason be applied to those, who
detract from the excellency of things sacred by a comi
cal lightness of expression ; as when their prayers shall
be set out in such a dress, as if they did not supplicate,
but compliment Almighty God ; and their sermons so
garnished with quibbles, as if they played with truth
and immortality ; and neither believed these things
themselves, nor were willing that others should. For
is it possible, that a man in his senses should be merry
and jocose with eternal life and death, if he really de-

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 109
signed to strike the awful impression of either into the
consciences of men ? No, no ; this is no less a contra
diction to common sense and reason, than to the strict
est notions of religion. And as this can by no means
be accounted divinity, so neither indeed can it pass for
wit ; which yet such chiefly seem to affect in such
performances. For these are as much the stains of
true humane eloquence, as they are the blots of divini
ty, and might be as well confuted out of Quintilian's
institutions, as St. Paul's epistles. Such are Avholly
mistaken in the nature of wit : for true wit is a severe
and manly thing. Wit in divinity is nothing else but
sacred truths suitably expressed. 'Tis not shreds of
Latin or Greek, nor a Deus dixit, and a Deus benedixit,
nor those little quirks or divisions into the oxi, the 816x1,
and the xa&oxt, or the egress, regress, and progress,
and other such stuff (much like the style of a lease)
that can properly be called wit. For that is not wit,
which consists not with wisdom. For can you think
that it had not been an easy matter for any one, in the
text here pitched upon by me, to have run out into a
long, fulsome allegory, comparing the scribe and the
householder together, and now and then to have cast
in a rhyme, with a quid, a quo, and a quomodo, and
the like ? But certainly it would then have been much
more difficult for the judicious to hear such things, than
for any, if so inclined, to have composed them. The
practice therefore of such is upon no terms to be en
dured. Nor, v
2. Is the contrary to be at all more endured in those,
who cry up their mean, heavy, careless, and insipid
way of handling things sacred, as the only evangelical
way of preaching, while they charge all their crude in
coherences, sawcy familiarities with God, and nause
ous tautologies, upon the Spirit prompting such things
to them, and that as the most elevated and seraphic
heights of religion. Both these sorts are absolutely to
be exploded ; and it is hard to judge, which of them

110 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [DlSC. V.
deserves it most. 'Tis indeed no ways decent for a
grave matron to be attired in the gaudy, flaunting dress
of youth ; but it is not at all uncomely for such an one
to be clothed in the richest and most costly silk, if
black or grave. For it is not the richness of the
piece, but the gaudiness of the colour, which exposes
to censure. And therefore, as I shew before, that the
6'ti's, and the Sioti's, &c. could not be accounted wit ;
so neither can the whimsical cant of issues, products,
tendencies, breathings, indwellings, rollings, recumben
cies* and scriptures misapplied, be accounted divinity.
In a word, let but these new lights, (so apt to teach
their betters,) instead of this and the like jargon, bring
us, in their discourses, strength of argument, clearness
of consequence, exactness of method, and propriety of
speech, and then let prejudice and party deride them, if
they can. But persons of light, undistinguishing heads,
not able to carry themselves clear between extremes,
think that they must either flutter, as it were, in the
air, by a kind of vain, empty lightness, or lie groveling
upon the ground, by a dead and contemptible flatness ;
both the one and the other, no doubt, equally ridicu
lous. But after all, I cannot but believe, that it is the
bewitching easiness of the latter way of the two, which
chiefly endears it to the practice of these men ; and I
hope it will not prove offensive to the auditory, if, to
release it (could I be so happy) from suffering by such
stuff for the future, I venture upon some short descrip
tion of it ; and it is briefly thus. First of all they seize
upon some text, from whence they draw something,
(which they call a doctrine) and well may it be said to
be drawn from the words ; forasmuch as it seldom na
turally flows from them. In the next place, they branch
it into several heads ; perhaps twenty, or thirty, or up
wards. Whereupon, for the prosecution of these, they
repair to some trusty Concordance, which never fails
* Terms often and much used by one /. O. a great leader and oracle
in those times. [The celebrated John Owen, the father of the Indepen
dents, is doubtless here meant. — Ed.]

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. Ill
them, and by the help of that, they range six or seven
scriptures under each head ; which scriptures they pro
secute one by one, enlarging upon one, for some con
siderable time, till they have spoiled it ; and then that
being done, they pass to another, which in its turn
suffers accordingly. And these impertinent and unpre
meditated enlargements they look upon as the motions
and breathings of the Spirit, and therefore much be
yond those carnal ordinances of sense and reason, sup
ported by industry and study ; and this they call a
saving way of preaching, as it must be confessed to be
a way to save much labour, and nothing else that I
know of. But how men should thus come to make
the salvation of an immortal soul, such a slight extem
pore business, I must profess, I cannot understand ;
and would gladly understand upon whose example they
ground this way of preaching ; not upon that of the
apostles, I am sure. For it is said of St. Paul, in his
sermon before Felix, that he reasoned of righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come. Acts xxiv. 25. The
words SiaXsyofiivov Si avxov, according to the natural
import of them, signifying, that he reasoned dialecti-
cally, following one conclusion with another, and with
the most close and pressing arguments from the most
persuasive topics of reason and divinity. Whereupon
we quickly find the prevalence of his preaching in a
suitable effect, that Felix trembled. Whereas had
Paul only cast about his arms, spoke himself hoarse,
and cried, You are damned, though Felix (as guilty as
he was) might have given him the hearing, yet possi
bly he might also have looked upon him as one whose
passion had, at that time, got the start of his judgment,
and accordingly have given him the same coarse salute,
which the same Paul afterwards so undeservedly met
with from Festus ; but his zeal was too much under
the conduct of his reason, to fly out at such a rate.
But to pass from these indecencies to others, as
little to be allowed in this sort of men, can any toler-

112 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
able reason be given for those strange, new postures
used by some in the delivery of the word ? Such as
shutting the eyes, distorting the face, and speaking
through the nose, which, I think, cannot so properly
be called preaching, as toning of a sermon. Nor do
I see, why the word may not be altogether as effec
tual for the conversion of souls, delivered by one who
has the manners to look his auditory in the face, using
his own countenance, and his own native voice, with
out straining it to a lamentable and doleful whine,
(never serving to any purpose, but where some religious
cheat is to be carried on.) That ancient, though seem
ingly odd saying, Loquere ut te videam, in my poor
judgment, carries in it a very notable instruction, and
peculiarly applicable to the persons and matter here
pointed out. For, supposing one to be a very able and
excellent speaker, yet under the forementioned circum
stances, he must, however, needs be a very ill sight ;
and the case of his poor suffering hearers very severe
upon them, while both the matter uttered by him, shall
grate hard upon the ear, and the person uttering it, at
the same time equally offend the eye. It is clear there
fore, that the men of this method have sullied the no
ble science of divinity, and can never warrant their
practice, either from religion or reason, or the rules of
decent behaviour, nor yet from the example of the
apostles, and least of all from that of our Saviour him
self. For none surely will imagine, that these men's
speaking as never man spoke before, can pass -for any
imitation of him. And here, I humbly conceive, that
it may not be amiss to take occasion to utter a great
truth, as both worthy to be now considered, and never
to be forgot ; that if we reflect upon the late times of
confusion, which passed upon the ministry, we shall
find, that the grand design of the fanatic crew was to
persuade the world, that a standing, settled ministry,
was wholly useless. This, I say, was the main point
which they then drove at. And the great engine to

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 113
effect this was, by engaging men of several callings
(and those the meaner still the better) to hold forth,
and harangue the multitude, sometimes in streets, some
times in churches, sometimes in barns, and sometimes
from pulpits, and sometimes from tubs ; and in a
word, wheresoever and howsoever they could clock the
senseless, unthinking rabble about them. And with
this practice well followed, they (and their friends the
Jesuits) concluded, that in some time it would be no
hard matter to persuade the people, that if men of
other professions were able to preach the word, then to
what purpose should there be a company of men
brought up to it, and maintained in it, at the charge of
a public allowance ? Especially, when at the same
time, the truly godlu so greedily gaped and grasped
at it for their self-denying selves. So that preach
ing, we see, was their prime engine. But now what
was it, which encouraged these men to set up for a
work, which (if duly managed) was so difficult in it
self, and which they Avere never bred to ? Why, no
doubt, it was that cheap, illiterate way, then com
monly cried up for the only gospel, soul-searching
way, (as the word then went,) and which the craftier
sort of them saw wrell enough, that with a little ex
ercise and much confidence, they might in a short time
come to equal, if not exceed ; as it cannot be de
nied, but that some few of them (with the help of a few
friends in masquerade) accordingly did. But on the
contrary, had preaching been reckoned a matter of
solid and true learning, theological knowledge, and
long and severe study, assuredly, no preaching cob-
ler amongst them all would have ventured so far be
yond his last, as to undertake it. And consequently
this their most poAverful engine, for supplanting the
church and clergy, had never been attempted, not per
haps so much as thought on ; and therefore of most
singular benefit, no question, would it be to the pub
lic, if those, who have authority to second their ad-
lb

114 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
vice, would counsel the ignorant and the forward, to
consider what divinity is, and what they themselves
are, and to put up their preaching tools, their me
dulla's, note-books, their mellificiums, concordances, and
all, and betake themselves to some useful trade, which
nature had most particularly fitted them for. This is
what I thought fit to offer and recommend ; and that
not out of any humour of opposition to this or that
sort of men, (for, whatsoever they may deserve, I
think them below it, but out of a dutiful zeal for the
advancement of what most of us profess, divinity ;
as likewise for the honour of that place, which we
belong to, the university ; and Avhich of late years I
have, with no small sorrow, heard often reflected up
on, for the meanness of many performances in it, no
ways answerable to the ancient reputation of so no
ble a seat of knowledge. For let the enemies of that
and us say what they will, no man's dulness is or
can be his duty, and much less his perfection.
And thus having considered the two contrary ways
of handling the word, I shall now briefly give the
reasons of our rejection of them both ; and these shall
be two.
First, Because both, to wit, the light and comical, and
the dull and heavy, extremely discredit the ordinance
of preaching. Second, Because they no less disgrace
the church itself.
And, First, we shall find how much both of them
expose the ordinance of preaching, which was original
ly designed for the two greatest things in the world ;
ihe honour of God, and the conversion of souls. For
if to convert a soul, even by the word itself, and the
strongest arguments which the reason of man can bring,
(as being no more than instruments in the case,) if,
I say, this be reckoned a work above nature, (as really
it is,) then surely to convert one by a jest would be a
reach beyond a miracle. In short, it is this unhalloAV-
ed way of preaching, which turns the pulpit into a

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 115
stage, and the most sovereign remedy against sin into
the sacrifice of jools; making it a matter of sport to
the light and vain, of pity to the devout, and of scorn
and loathing to all ; and, I believe, never yet drew a
tear or a sigh from any well disposed auditor, unless
perhaps for the sin and vanity of the speaker : So sad
a thing it is, when sermons shall be such, that the
most serious hearer of them shall not be able to com
mand his attention and his countenance too* For can it
be imagined excusable, or indeed tolerable, for one,
who owns himself for God's ambassador to the people,
to speak those things, as by his authority, of Avhich it
is hard to judge whether they detract from the honour
or honesty of an ambassador most ? But in a word,
when the professed dispensers of the weighty matters
of religion shall treat them in a way so utterly unsuit
able to the grandeur of them, do they not come too
near the infamous example of Eli's two sons, tvho
managed their priestly office (as sacred as it was) in
so wretched a manner, that it is said, that the people
abhorred the offering of the Lord ; and if so, we may
be sure, abhorred the offerers much more ?
Second, As the two forementioned ways mightily dis
credit the great ordinance of preaching, so they equally
discredit the church itself. It is the unhappy fate of
the clergy above all men, that their defects never ter
minate in their own persons, but still rebound upon
their function; a manifest injustice certainly ; where
one is the criminal, and another must be the sufferer :
But yet as bad as it is, from the practice of some per
sons, to take occasion to reproach the church ; so on
the other side, to give occasion, is undoubtedly much
worse. And therefore, whatsoever relation to, or
whatsoever interest in the church, such may pretend
to, they are really greater enemies, and fouler blots to
[ * By a large proportion of readers, the writer is in some danger, with
all his merits, of being thought the most signal example of the foible
he condemns ; and such must wonder or smile at the seeming un
consciousness which pervades this stricture. — Ed.]

116 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
her excellent constitution, than the most avowed ma-
ligners of it, and consequently would have disobliged
her infinitely less, had they fallen in with the schis
matics and fanatics in their bitterest invectives against
her ; and that even to the renouncing her orders (as
some of them have done) and an entire quitting of her
communion. For better it is, to be hissed at by a
snake out of the hedge or the dunghill, than to be hiss
ed at, and bitten too, by one in one's own bosom. But
I trust, that when men shall seriously consider, how
and from whence the church's enemies have took ad
vantage against her, there will be found those whose
preaching shall both answer and adorn her constitution,
and withal make her excellent instructions from the
pulpit so to suit, as well as second her incomparable
devotions from the desk, that they shall neither fly out
into those levities and indecencies (so justly before
condemned) on the one hand ; nor yet sink into that
sordid, supine dulness on the other, (which our men
of the Spirit so much affect, and which we by no
means desire to vie with them in.) In sum, we hope,
that all our church performances shall be such, that
she shall as much outshine all those about her, in the
soundness and sobriety of her doctrines, as in the prim
itive excellency of her discipline.
2. I shall now pass to the concluding inference from
this whole discourse ; and that shall be, to exhort
those who have already heard what preparations are
required to a gospel scribe &c. and who withal design
themselves for the same employment, with the utmost
seriousness to consider the reasonableness, or rather
necessity of bestowing a competent and sufficient time
in the universities for that purpose. And to dissuade
such from a hasty relinquishment of them, (besides
arguments, more than enough, drawn from the great
inconveniences of so doing, and the implicit prohibition
of St. Paul himself, that he who undertakes a pastoral
charge, must not be a novice,) there is still a more co-

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 117
gent reason for the same, and that from the very na
ture of the thing itself : For how, naturally speaking,
can there be a fitness for any great work, without
preparation ? And how can there be preparation, with
out due time and opportunity ? It is observed of the
Levites, though much of their ministry was only shoul
der ivork, that they had yet a very considerable time
for preparation. They were consecrated to it, by the
imposition of hands, at the age of five and twenty ; af
ter which they employed five years in learning their
office, and then at the thirtieth year they began their
Levitical ministration ; at which time also our blessed
Saviour began his ministry. But now, under the gos
pel, when our work is ten times greater, (as well as
twice ten times more spiritual than theirs was,) do we
think to furnish ourselves in half the space ? There
was lately a company of men called tryers, commis
sioned by Cromwell, to judge of the abilities of such
as were to be admitted into the ministry ; who (for
sooth) if any of that Levitical age presented himself
to them for their approbation, they commonly rejected
him with disdain ; telling him, that if he had not been
lukewarm, and good for nothing, he would have been
disposed of in the ministry long before ; and they
would tell him also, that he was not only of a legal
age, but of a legal spirit too; and as for things legal,
(by which Ave poor mortals, and men of the letter, un
derstand things done according to law,) this they re
nounced, and pretended to be many degrees aboVe it ;
for otherwise we may be sure, that their great master
of misrule Oliver, would never have commissioned
them to serve him in that post. And now what a
kind of ministry (may we imagine) such would have
stocked this poor nation with, in the space of ten years
more ? But the truth is, for those, whose divinity was
novelty, it ought to be no wonder, if their divines were
to be novices too ; and since they intended to make
their preaching and praying an extemporary ivork, no

118 THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. [Disc. V.
wonder if they were contented also with an extem
porary preparation, and after two or three years spent
in the university, ran abroad, under a pretence of serv
ing God in their generation ; (a term in mighty re
quest with them) and that for reasons ('tis supposed)
best known to themselves. But as for such mush
room divines, who start up so of a sudden, we do
not usually find their success so good as to recom
mend their practice. Hasty births are seldom long-
lived, but never strong : And therefore, I hope, that
those who love the church so tvell, as not to be willing
that she should suffer by any failure of theirs, will
make it their business so to stock themselves here,
as to carry from hence both learning and experience
to that arduous and great work, which so eminently
requires both. And the more inexcusable will an
over hasty leaving this noble place of improvement
be, by how much the greater encouragement we now
have to make a longer stay in it, than we had some
years since ; Providence having broken the rod of (I
believe) as great spiritual oppression, as was ever be
fore exercised upon any company or corporation of
men whatsoever. When some spiritual tyrants, then
at the top of it, not being able to fasten any accu
sation upon men's lives, mortally maligned by them,
would presently arraign and pass sentence upon their
hearts, and deny them the proper encouragement of
scholars, because, forsooth, they Avere not, in their re
fined sense, godly and regenerate ; because they would
not espouse a faction, by resorting to their congrega
tional, house-warming meetings, where the brother
hood, or sisterhood rather, used to be so very kind to
their friends and brethren in the Lord. Besides the.
barbarous, raving insolence, which those spiritual dons
from the pulpit were wont to show to all sorts and
degrees of men, high and low ; representing every
casual mishap, as a judgment from God upon such
and such persons, who being implacably hated by the

Disc. V.] THE SCRIBE INSTRUCTED. 119
party, could not, it seems, be otherwise by God him
self. For* mark the men, said holderforth, (as I my
self with several others frequently heard him.) And
then having thus fixed his mark, and taken aim, he
would shoot through and through it with a vengeance.
But, I hope, things are already come to that pass, that
we shall never again hear any, especially of our own
body, in the very face of loyally and learning, dare in
this place (so renowned for both) either rail at ma
jesty, or decry a standing ministry, and in a most un
natural and preposterous manner plant their batteries
in the pulpit for the beating down of the church.
In fine, therefore, both to relieve your patience, and
close up this whole discourse, since Providence, by a
wonder of mercy, has now opened a way for the re
turn of our laws and our religion, it will concern us all
seriously to consider, that as the work before us is the
most important, both with reference to this world, and
the next, so likewise to lay to heart, that this is the
place of preparation, and now the time of it; and con
sequently, that the more time and care shall be taken
by us, to go from hence prepared, the better, no doubt,
will be our work, and the larger our reward.
* Dr. H. W. violently thrust in, canon of Christ church, Oxon, by the
parliament visitors, in the year 1647.

DISCOURSE VI.

OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER.

ECCLES. v. 2.
Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart
be hasty to utter any thing before God ; for God
is in heaven, and thou upon earth ; therefore let
thy words be few.
We have here the wisest of men instructing us how
to behave ourselves before God in his own house ;
and particularly when we address him in the most
important of all duties, prayer. Solomon had the hon
our to be spoken to by God himself, and therefore,
in all likelihood, none more fit to teach us how to
speak to God : — a great privilege, certainly, for dust
and ashes to be admitted to ; and therefore it will con
cern us to manage it so, that in these our approaches
to the King of heaven, his goodness may not cause us
to forget his greatness, nor (as it is but too usual for
subjects to use privilege against prerogative) his honour
suffer by his condescension.
In the words we have these three things observable.
1. That whosoever appears in the house of God, par
ticularly in the way of prayer, ought to reckon himself,
in a more especial manner, placed in the presence of
God. 2. That the infinite distance between God and
him, ought to create in him all imaginable awe, in such

DISC. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 121
his addresses to God. 3. That this reverence required
of him is to consist in a serious preparation of his
thoughts, and a sober government of his expressions :
Neither is his mouth to be rash, nor his heart to be
hasty, in uttering any thing before God.
These things are evidently contained in the words,
and do as evidently contain the whole sense of them.
But I shall gather them all into this one proposition;
namely, that Premeditation of Thought and Brevity of
Expression, are the great ingredients of that reverence
that is required to an acceptable and devout prayer.
For the better handling of which, we will, in the
first place, consider how it is, that Prayer prevails with
God, for the obtaining of the things we pray for.
Concerning which, I shall lay down this general rule,
that the way, by which prayer prevails with God, is
wholly different from that, by which it prevails with
men. And to give you this more particularly,
First of all, it prevails not with God by way of
information. With men indeed, this is the common,
and with wise men the chief, and should be the only
way of obtaining what we ask of them. We lay be
fore them our wants and the misery of our condition ;
which being made known to them, the quality and con
dition of the thing asked for, and of the persons Avho
ask it, induces them to do that for us which Ave peti
tion for. But it is not so in our addresses to God ; for he
knows our wants and our conditions better than we our
selves : He is beforehand with all our prayers. Your
Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye
ask him. Thou understandest my thoughts afar off.
And how then can he, who is but of yesterday, sug
gest any thing new to that eternal Mind ! How can
ignorance inform Omniscience !
Secondly, Neither does prayer prevail with God by
way of persuasion, or working upon the affections. This
indeed is the most usual and most effectual way to pre
vail with men ; who, for the generality, are one part
16

122 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI.
reason, and nine parts affection. So that one of a vol
uble tongue and a dextrous insinuation may do what
he will Avith vulgar minds, and with wise men too, at
their weak times. But God, who is as void of passion
or affection, as he is of corporeity, is not to be dealt
with this way. He values not our rhetoric, nor our
pathetical harangues. He Avho applies to God, applies
to an infinite, almighty Reason, the first Mover, and
therefore not to be moved, or wrought upon himself.
In all passion the mind suffers, (as the very signifi
cation of the word imports,) but absolute, entire per
fection cannot suffer ; it is and must be immoveable,
and by consequence impassible.
And therefore in the Third place, much less is God
to be prevailed upon by importunity, and, as it were,
wearying him into a concession of what we beg of him.
Though with men, we know, this also is not unusual.
A notable instance of which we have in Luke xviii.
where the unjust judge, being with a restless vehe
mence sued to for justice, says thus within himself:
Though I fear not God, nor regard man, yet because
this widow troubleth me I will avenge her, lest by her
continual coming she weary me.
In like manner, how often are beggars relieved only
for their rude importunity, and not that the person who
relieves them is thereby informed or satisfied of their
real want, nor yet moved to pity them by all their cry
and cant, but to rid himself from their vexatious din ;
so that to purchase his quiet by a little alms, he grati
fies the beggar, but indeed relieves himself. But now,
this way is farther from prevailing with God, than
either of the former. For as Omniscience is not to be
informed, so neither is Omnipotence to be wearied.
We may much more easily think to clamour the sun
and stars out of their courses, than to word the great
Creator of them out of the steady purposes of his own
will, by all the vehemence and loudness of our peti
tions. Men may tire themselves with their own pray-

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 123
ers, but God is not to be tired. The rapid motion
and whirl of things here below, interrupts not the in
violable rest and calmness of the noble beings above.
While the winds roar and bluster here in the first and
second regions of the air, there is a perfect serenity in
the third. Men's desires cannot control God's de
crees. And thus I have shown, that the three ways by
which men prevail with men, in their applications to
them, have no place at all, in giving any efficacy to
their addresses to God.
But you will ask then, upon what account is it, that
prayer becomes prevalent with God, so as to procure us
the good things we pray for? I answer upon this ; that it
is the fulfilling of that, condition, upon which God has
freely promised to convey his blessings to men. God, of
his own good will and pleasure, has thought fit to fix up
on this, as the means by which he will answer the wants
of mankind. As, suppose a prince should declare to
any one of his subjects, that if he shall appear before
him every morning in his bed-chamber, he shall receive
of him a thousand talents. We must not here imag
ine, that the subject, by making this appearance, does
either move or persuade his prince to give him such a
sum of money ; no, he only performs the condition of
the promise, and thereby acquires a right to the thing
promised. He does indeed hereby engage his prince
to give him this sum, though he does by no means per
suade him ; or rather, to speak more strictly, the
prince's own veracity is an engagement upon the prince
himself, to make good his promise to him who fulfils
the conditions of it.
********
And thus having shown how prayer operates to
wards the obtaining of the divine blessings ; namely,
as a condition appointed by God for that purpose, and
no otherwise ; we shall now infer also, upon what ac
count the highest reverence of God is so indispensably

124 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI.
required of us in prayer, and all sort of irreverence so
diametrically opposite to the very nature of it. And it
will appear to be upon this, that in what degree any
one lays aside his reverence of God, in the same he
also quits his dependence upon him : Forasmuch as in
every irreverent act, a man treats God as if he had in
deed no need of him, and behaves himself as if he stood
upon his own bottom, absolute and self-sufficient.
This is the natural language, the true signification of
all irreverence.
Noav in all addresses, either to God or man, by
speech, our reverence to them must consist of, and
show itself in, these two things.
First, A careful regulation of our thoughts, that are
to dictate and to govern our words ; which is done by
Premeditation : And, Secondly, a due ordering of our
words, that are to proceed from and to express our
thoughts ; which is done by Pertinence and Brevity
of expression.
David, directing his prayer to God, joins these two
together, as the two great, integral parts of it, in Psalm
xix. Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations
of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord. So
that, it seems, his prayer adequately and entirely con"
sisted of those two things, meditation and expression,
as it were, the matter and form of that noble compo
sure. There being no mention at all of distortion of
face, sanctified grimace, solemn wink, or foaming at
the mouth, and the like ; all which are circumstances
of prayer of a later date, and brought into request by
those fantastic zealots, who had a way of praying, as
astonishing to the eyes as to the ears of those that
heard them.
I. Well then, the first ingredient of a pious and
reverential prayer is a previous Regulation of the
Thoughts, as the text expresses it most emphatically ;
Let not thy heart be hasty to utter any thing before
God ; that is, in other words, let it not venture to

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 125
throw its crude, extemporary, misshapen conceptions in
the face of infinite perfection. Let not the heart con
ceive and bring forth together. This is monstrous and
unnatural. All abortion is from infirmity and defect.
And time is required to form the issue of the mind, as
well as that of the body. The fitness or unfitness of
the first thoughts cannot be judged of, but by reflexion
of the second : And be the invention never so fruitful,
yet in the mind, as in the earth, that which is cast into
it must lie hid and covered for awhile, before it can be
fit to shoot forth. These are the methods of nature,
and it is seldom but the acts of religion conform to
them. He who is to pray, would he seriously judge of the
work that is before him, has more to consider of, than
either his heart can hold, or his head well turn itself
to. Prayer is one of the greatest and the hardest
works that a man has to do in this world ; and was ever
any thing difficult or glorious achieved by a sudden
cast of a thought ; a flying stricture of the imagina
tion ? Presence of mind is indeed good, but haste is;
not so. And therefore, let this be concluded upon, j
that, in the business of prayer, to pretend to reverence,,1
when there is no premeditation, is both impudence and]
contradiction. Now this premeditation ought to respect these three
things: 1. The Person whom we pray to. 2. The
Matter of our prayers. And, 3. The Order and Dispo
sition of them. And
1. For the Person whom we pray to. The same
is to employ, who must needs also nonplus and as
tonish thy meditations, and be made the object of thy
thoughts, who infinitely transcends them. For all the
knowing and reasoning faculties of the soul are utterly
baffled, when they offer at any idea of the great God.
Nevertheless, since it is hard, if not impossible, to im
print an awe upon the affections, without suitable no
tions first formed in the apprehensions, we must in our

126 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI.
prayers endeavour, at least, to bring these as near to
God as we can, by considering such of his divine per
fections as have, by their effects, in a great measure,
manifested themselves to our senses, and, in a much
greater, to the discourses of our reason.
As first, consider with thyself, how great and glori
ous a Being that must needs be, that raised so vast
and beautiful a fabrick as this of the world out of
nothing, with the breath of his mouth, and can, with
the same, reduce it to nothing again ; and then con
sider, that this is that high, incomprehensible Being,
whom thou addressest thy pitiful self to in prayer.
Consider next, his all-searching knowledge, which
looks through and through the most secret of our
thoughts, ransacks every corner of the heart, ponders
the most inward designs of the soul in all man's ac
tions ; and then consider, that this is the God whom
thou hast to deal with in prayer ; the God who ob
serves the postures and motion of thy mind, in all
thy approaches to him ; and whose piercing eye it is
impossible to escape, by all the tricks of the subtil-
lest and most refined hypocrisy. And lastly, consider
the fiery and implacable jealousy that he has for his
honour ; and that he has no other use of the whole
creation but to serve the ends of it ; and above all,
that he will, in a most peculiar manner, be honoured
of those who draw near to him, and will by no means
suffer himself to be mocked and affronted, under a
pretence of being worshipped, nor endure, that a con
temptible, sinful creature, who is but a piece of liv
ing dirt at best, should at the same time bend the
knee to him, and spit in his face. And now consid
er, that this is the God whom thou prayest to, arid
whom thou usest with such intolerable indignity, in
every unworthy prayer, every saucy and familiar word,
that (upon confidence of being one of God's elect)
thou presumest to debase so great a Majesty with :
And, for an instance of the dreadful curse that attends

Disc. VI.] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 127
such a daring irreverence, consider how God used
Nadab and Abihu for venturing to offer strange fire
before him ; and then know, that every unhallowed, un
fitting prayer is a strange fire ; a fire that will be sure
to destroy the offering, though mercy should spare the
offerer. Consider these things deeply, till the consid
eration of them affects thy heart and humbles thy
spirit, with such awful apprehensions of thy Maker,
and such abject reflections upon thyself, as may lay
thee in the dust before him ; and know, that the low
er thou fallest, the higher will thy prayer rebound ;
and that thou art never so fit to pray to God, as
when a sense of thy own unworthiness makes thee
ashamed even to speak to him.
2. The second object of premeditation is the matter of
our prayers. For, as we are to consider, whom we
are to pray to, so are we to consider also, what we are
to pray for ; and this requires no ordinary application
of thought, to distinguish, or judge of. Men's prayers
are generally dictated by their desires, and their de
sires are the issues of their affections ; and their affec
tions are for the most part influenced by their corrup
tions. The first constituent principle of a well-con
ceived prayer, is to know, what not to pray for ; which
the scripture assures us, that some do not, while they
pray for what they may spend upon their lusts ; asking
such things as it is a contumely to God to hear, and
damnation to themselves to receive. No man is to pray
for any thing sinful, or directly tending to sin. No man
is to pray for a temptation, and much less to desire God
to be his tempter, which he would certainly be, should he,
at the instance of any man's prayer, administer fuel to
his sinful or absurd appetites. Nor is any one to ask
of God fhings mean and trivial, and beneath the Majes
ty of heaven to be concerned about, or solemnly ad
dressed to for. Nor, lastly, is any one to admit into
his petitions things superfluous or extravagant, such as
wealth, greatness, and honour ; which we are so far

128 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER- [Disc. XI.
from being warranted to beg of God, that we are to
beg his grace to despise and undervalue them ; and it
were much, if the same things should be the proper
objects both of our self-denial and of our prayers too ;
and that we should be allowed to solicit the satisfac
tion, and enjoined to endeavour the mortification of the
same desires.
The things that we are to pray for, are either, (1.)
Things of absolute necessity; or, (2.) Things of un
questionable charity. Of the first sort, are all spiritual
graces required in us, as the indispensable conditions
of our salvation ; such as are repentance, faith, hope,
charity, temperance, and all other virtues, that are
either the parts or principles of a pious life. These
are to be the prime subject-matter of our prayers ; and
we shall find, that nothing comes this way so easily
from heaven, as those things that will assuredly bring
us to it. The Spirit dictates all such petitions, and
God himself is first the Author, and then the Fulfiller
of them ; owning and accepting them, both as our duty,
and his own production. The other sort of things,
that may allowably be prayed for, are things of mani
fest, unquestionable charity ; such as are a competent
measure of the innocent comforts of life, as health,
peace, maintenance, and a success of our honest la
bours ; and yet, even these but conditionally, and with
perfect resignation to the will and wisdom of the Sove
reign Disposer of all that belongs to us ; who, (if he
finds it more for his honour to have us serve him with
sick, crazy, languishing bodies, with poverty, and last
ly, with our country all in a flame about our ears) ought
in all this, and much more, to over-rule our desires
into an absolute acquiescence in his all-wise disposal
of things; and to convince us, that our prayers are some
times best answered, when our desires are most opposed.
In fine, to state the whole matter of our prayers in
one Avord ; nothing can be fit for us to pray for, but
Avhat is fit and honourable for our great Master of re-

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 129
quests, Jesus Christ himself, to intercede for. This is
to be the unchangeable rule and measure of all our pe
titions. And then, if Christ is to convey these our pe
titions to his Father, can any one dare to make him,
who was purity itself, an Advocate for his lusts ? Him
who was nothing but meekness and humility, his pro-
viditore for such things as can only feed his pride, and
flush his ambition ? No, certainly ; when we come as
suppliants to the throne of grace, where Christ sits as
Intercessor at God's right hand, nothing can be fit to
proceed out of our mouth, but what is fit to pass
through his.
3. The last thing, that calls for a previous medita
tion to our prayers, is the disposition of them. For
though God does not command us to set off our pray
ers with dress and artifice, to flourish it in trope and
metaphor, to beg our daily bread in blank verse, or to
show any thing of the poet in our devotions, but indi
gence and want ; I say, though God is far from re
quiring such things in our prayers, yet he requires that
we should manage them with sense and reason. Fine
ness is not expected, but decency is ; and though we
cannot declaim, as orators, yet he will have us speak
like men, and tender him the results of that under
standing and judgment that essentially constitute a ra
tional nature.
But I shall briefly cast what I have to say upon this
particular, into these following assertions.
(1.) That nothing can express our reverence to God
in prayer, that would pass for irreverence towards a
great man. Let any subject tender his prince a peti
tion, fraught with nonsense and incoherence, confusion
and impertinence ; and can he expect that majesty
should answer it with any thing but a deaf ear, a frown
ing eye, or, at best, vouchsafe it any other reward, but
by a gracious oblivion to forgive the person, and for
get the petition ?
(2.) Nothing absurd, and such as a wise man would
17

130 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI r
despise, can be acceptable to God in prayer. Solomon
expressly tells us in Ecclesiastes v. that God has no
pleasure in fools; nor is it possible that an infinite
Wisdom should. The scripture all along expresses sin
and wickedness by the name of folly ; and therefore,
certainly folly is too near a kin to it, to find any appro
bation from God in so great a duty : It is the sim
plicity of the heart, and not of the head, that is the
best inditer of our petitions. That which proceeds
from the latter, is undoubtedly the sacrifice of fools ;
and God is never more weary of sacrifice, than when
a fool is the priest, and folly the oblation. And
(3.) Nothing rude, slight, and careless ; or, indeed,
less than the very best that a man can offer, can be ac
ceptable or pleasing to God in prayer. If ye offer the
blind for sacrifice, is it not evil ? If ye offer the
lame and the sick, is it not evil ? Offer it now to
thy governor, and see whether he will he pleased with
thee, or accept thy person, saith the Lord of Hosts f
Mai. i. God rigidly expects a return of his own gifts ;
and where he has given ability, will be served by acts
proportionable to it. And he who has parts to raise
and propagate his own honour by, but none to employ
in the worship of him that gave them, does (as I may
so express it) refuse to wear God's livery in his own
service, adds sacrilege to prophaneness, strips and
starves his devotions, and, in a word, falls directly un
der the dint of that curse, denounced in the first of
Malachi ; Cursed be the deceiver, that hath in his flock
a male, and voweth, and sacrificeth to the Lord a cor
rupt thing. The same is here, both the deceiver and
the deceived too ; for God very well knows what he
gives men, and why; and where he has bestowed judg
ment, learning, and utterance, will not endure that
men should be accurate in their discourse, and loose in
their devotions ; or think, that the great Author of eve
ry perfect gift will be put off with confused talk, bab
ble, and tautology.

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 131
And thus much for the disposition of our prayers,
Wrhich certainly requires precedent thought, and medi
tation. God has declared himself the God of order in
all things, and will have it observed, in what he com
mands others, as well as in what he does himself. Or
der is the great rule, by which God made the world,
and by which he still governs it : Nay, the world it
self is nothing else ; and all this glorious system of
things is but the chaos put into order : And how then
can God, who has so eminently owned himself con
cerned for this excellent thing, brook such confusion,
as the slovenly and profane negligence some treat him
with, in their most solemn addresses to him ? All which
is the unavoidable consequent of unpreparedness and
wain of premeditation, without which, whosoever pre
sumes to pray, cannot be so properly said to approach
to, as to break in upon God. And surely, he who is
so hardy, has no reason in the earth to expect that the
success, which follows his prayers, should be greater
than the preparation that goes before them.
Noav from what has been hitherto discoursed of
this first grand qualification of a devout prayer, to
wit, premeditation of thought, what can be so natu
rally and so usefully inferred, as the high expediency,
or rather the absolute necessity of a set form of prayer,
to guide our devotions by ? We have lived in an age
that has despised and counteracted all the principles
and practices of the primitive Christians, in taking the
measures of their duty both to God and man, and of
their behaviour both in matters civil and religious ; but
in nothing more scandalously, than in their vile abuse
of the great duty of prayer ; concerning which, though
it may with the clearest truth be affirmed, that there
has been no church yet, of any account in the Christian
world, but what has governed its public worship of
God by a liturgy, yet these enthusiastic innovators, the
bold and blind reformers of all antiquity, and wiser
than the whole catholic church besides, introduced into

132 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI.
the room of it, a sawcy, senseless, extemporary way
of speaking to God, affirming that this Avas a praying
by the Spirit, and that the use of all set forms was
stinting of the Spirit; a pretence, 1 confess, popular
and plausible enough with such idiots as take the sound
of words for the sense of them. But, for the full con
futation of it, (which, I hope, shall be done both easily
and briefly too,) I shall advance this one assertion in
direct contradiction to that; namely,
That the praying by a set form is not a stinting of
the Spirit ; and the praying extempore truly and pro
perly is so.
For the proving and making out of which, we will
first consider, what it is to pray by the Spirit ; a thing
much talked of, but not so convenient for the talkers
of it, and pretenders to it, to haA^e it rightly stated. In
short, it includes in it these two things :
First, A praying with the heart, which is sometimes
called the spirit or inward man; and so it is properly
opposed to hypocritical lip-deA^otions, in which the
heart or spirit does not go along Avith a man's words.
Second, It includes in it also a praying according to
the rules prescribed by God's Holy Spirit, and held
forth to us in his word, which was both dictated and
confirmed by this Spirit ; and so it is opposed to the
praying unlawfully or unwarrantably ; and that, either
in respect of the matter or manner of our prayers : As,
when we desire of God such things, or in such a way,
as the Spirit of God, speaking in his holy Avord, does
by no means warrant. So that to pray by the Spirit,
signifies neither more nor less, but to pray knoAvingly,
heartily, and affectionately, for such things, and in such
a manner, as the Holy Ghost, in scripture, either com
mands or allows of. As for any other kind of praying
by the Spirit, upon the best enquiry that I can make
into these matters, I can find none. And if some say,
(as I know they both impudently and blasphemously
do), that to pray by the Spirifis to have the Spirit im-

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 133
mediately inspiring them, and so dictating their pray
ers to them, let them either produce plain scripture, or
do a miracle to prove this by. But till then, he who
shall consider what kind of prayers these pretenders to
the Spirit have been notable for, will find, that they
have as little cause to father their prayers, as their
practices, upon the Spirit of God.
These two things are certain, and I do particularly
recommend them to your observation : One, that this
way of praying by the Spirit (as they call it) was be
gun, and first brought into use here in England,
in queen Elizabeth's days, by a popish priest and Do
minican fryar, one Faithful Commin by name, who,
counterfeiting himself a protestant, and a zealot of the
highest form, set up this neAV spiritual way of praying,
with a design to bring the people first to a contempt,
and from thence to an utter disuse of our Common-
Prayer, which he still reviled as only a translation of
the Mass ; thereby to distract men's minds, and to di
vide our church. And this he did with such success,
that we have lived to see the effects of his labours in
the utter subversion of church and state. Which hel
lish negociation, when this malicious hypocrite came to
Rome to give the pope an account of, he received of
him (as so notable a service well deserved) besides a
thousand thanks, two thousand ducats for his pains.
So that now you see here the original of this extem
pore-way of praying by the Spirit. The other thing
that I would observe to you, is, that in the neighbour
nation of Scotland, one of the greatest* monsters of
men, that, I believe, ever lived, and actually in league
with the devil, was yet, by the confession of all that
heard him, the most excellent at this extempore-way
of praying by the Spirit, of any man in his time ; none
Avas able to come near him, or to compare with him.
But surely now, he who shall venture to ascribe the
prayers of such a wretch, made up of adulteries, incest,
* Major John Weyer. See Ravillac Rediviv.

134 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI
witchcraft, and other villanies, not to be named, to the
Spirit of God, may as well strike in with the Pharisees,
and ascribe the miracles of Christ to the devil. And
thus having shown, both what ought to be meant by
praying by the Spirit, and what ought not, cannot be
meant by it ; let us now see whether a set form, or
this extemporary way, be the greater hinderer and
stinter of it : In order to which I shall lay down these
three assertions.
1. That the mind of man is but of a limited nature
in all its Avorkings, and consequently cannot supply
two distinct faculties at the same time, to the same
height of operation. 2. That the finding expressions
for prayer is the proper business of the brain and the
invention ; and that the finding devotion and affection
to accompany those expressions is properly the busi
ness of the heart. 3. That this devotion and affection
is indispensably required in Prayer, as the principal
part of it, and that in which the spirituality of it does
most properly consist.
Now from these three things put together, this must
naturally and necessarily follow ; that as spiritual pray
er or praying by the Spirit, taken in the right sense of
the word, consists properly in that affection and devo
tion that the heart exercises and employs in the work
of prayer ; so, whatsoever gives the soul scope and
liberty to exercise this affection and devotion, that does
most effectually help and enlarge the spirit of prayer;
and whatsoever diverts the soul from employing such
affection and devotion, that does most directly stint it.
Accordingly, let this now be our rule, whereby to judge
of the efficacy of a set form, and of the extempore-
way, in the present business. As for a set form, in
which the Avords are prepared to our hands, the soul
has nothing to do but to attend to the work of raising
the affections and devotions to go along with those
words : So that all the powers of the soul are took
up in applying the heart to this great duty ; and it is

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 135
the exercise of the heart that is truly a praying by the
Spirit. On the contrary, in all extempore-prayer, the
faculties of the soul are called off from dealing with
the heart and the affections ; and that both in the
speaker and in the hearer.
And first for the minister, who utters such extem
pore-prayers. He is wholly employing his invention,
both to conceive matter and find words to clothe it in.
This is certainly the work which takes up his mind in
this exercise : And since the nature of man's mind is
such, that it cannot with the same vigour, at the same
time, attend to the work of invention, and that of raising
the affections also ; nor measure out the same supply
of spirits and intention for the carrying on the opera
tions of the head and of the heart too ; it is certain,
that while the head is so much employed, the heart
must be very little, and perhaps not at all ; and conse
quently, if to pray by the Spirit be to pray with the
heart and the affections, it is also as certain, that while
a man prays extempore, he does not pray by the Spirit :
Nay, the very truth of it is, that while he is so doing,
he is not praying at all, but he is studying, he is beat
ing his brain, while he should be drawing out his affec
tions. And then for the people that are to join with him in
such prayers ; it is manifest, that they, not knowing
beforehand what the minister will say, must presently
busy and bestir their minds, both to apprehend and un
derstand the meaning of what they hear, and withal to
judge whether it be of such a nature as to be fit for
them to concur with him in. So that the people also,
are, by this course, put to study and to employ their
apprehending and judging faculties, while they should
be exerting their affections and devotions ; and conse
quently, by this means the spirit of prayer is stinted,
as well in the congregation that follows, as in the min
ister who first conceives a prayer, after their extem
pore-way ; which is a truth so self-evident, that it is

136 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI
impossible that it should need any further arguments
to make it out.
The sum of all is this ; that since a set form of
prayer leaves the soul wholly free to employ its affec
tions and devotions in which the spirit of prayer does
most properly consists, it follows, that the spirit of
prayer is thereby, in a singular manner, promoted and
enlarged : And since, on the other hand, the extem
pore-way takes off the soul from employing its affec
tions, and engages it chiefly, if not wholly, about the
use of its invention, it as plainly follows, that the spirit
of prayer is, by this means, unavoidably cramped, and
(to use their own word) stinted; Avhich was the propo
sition that I undertook to prove. But there are two
things, I confess, that are extremely stinted by a set
form of prayer, and equally furthered and enlarged by
the extempore way, which, without all doubt, is the
true cause Avhy the former is so much decried, and the
latter so much extolled, by the men whom we are now
pleading with. The first of which is pride and osten
tation ; the other faction and sedition.
1. And first for pride. I do not in the least ques
tion, but the chief design of such as use the extempore-
way, is to amuse the unthinking rabble with an admi
ration of their gifts ; their whole devotion proceeding
from no other principle, but only a love to hear them
selves talk. And, I believe, it would put Lucifer him
self hard to it, to out-vie the pride of one of those fel
lows, pouring out his extempore-stuff amongst his ig
norant, whining, factious followers, listening to and
applauding his copious flow and cant, with the ridicu
lous accents of their impertinent groans. And, the
truth is, extempore-prayer, even when best and most
dexterously performed, is nothing else but a business of
invention and wit, (such as it is,) and requires no more
to it, but a teeming imagination, a bold front, and a
ready expression, and deserves much the same com
mendation, (were it not in a matter too serious, to be

Disc. VI] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 137
sudden upon,) which is due to extempore-verses ; only
with this difference, that there is necessary to these
latter, a competent measure of wit and learning ;
whereas the former may be done with very little wit,
and no learning at all.
And now, can any sober person think it reasonable,
that the devotions of a whole congregation should be
under the conduct, and at the mercy of a pert, empty,
conceited holder-forth, whose chief, if not sole, intent
is to vaunt his spiritual clack, and (as I may so speak)
to pray prizes ; whereas prayer is a duty that recom
mends itself to the acceptance of Almighty God, by no
other qualification so much, as by the profoundest hu
mility that a man can possibly have of himself?
Certainly the extemporizing faculty is never more
out of its element, than in the pulpit ; though even
here, it is much more excusable in a sermon, than in a
prayer ; forasmuch as in that a man addresses himself
but to men, men like himself, whom he may therefore
make bold with, as, no doubt, for so doing they -will
also make bold with him. Besides, the peculiar ad
vantage attending all such sudden conceptions, that as
they are quickly born, so they quickly die ; it being
seldom known, where the speaker has so very fluent
an invention, but the hearer also has the gift of as flu
ent a memory.
2. The other thing that has been hitherto so little
befriended by a set form of prayer, and so very much
by the extempore- way, is faction and sedition. It has
been always found an excellent way of girning at the
government in scripture phrase. And we all know the
common dialect, in which the great masters of this
art used to pray for the king, and which may justly
pass for only a cleanlier and more refined kind of li
belling him in the Lord ; as that God will turn his
heart and open his eyes ; as if he were a pagan, yet
to be converted to Christianity ; with many other sly,
virulent, and malicious insinuations, Avhich we may
18

138 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VI.
every day hear of from (those mints of treason and re
bellion) their conventicles ; and for which, and a great
deal less, some princes and governments would make
them not only eat their words, but the tongue that
spoke them too. In fine, let all their extempore-har
angues be duly weighed, and you shill find a spirit of
pride, faction, and sedition, predominant in them all ;
the only spirit, which those impostors do really and
indeed pray by.
I have been so much the longer and the earnester
against this intoxicating, bewitching cheat of extem
pore-prayer, being fully satisfied in my conscience,
that it has been all along the devil's master-piece and
prime engine to overthrow our church by. For I look
upon this as a most unanswerable truth, that whoso
ever renders the public worship of God contemptible
amongst us, must in the same degree discredit our
whole religion. And, I hope, I have also proved it to
be a truth altogether as clear, that this extempore-way
naturally brings all the contempt upon the worship of
God, that both the folly and faction of men can possi
bly expose it to ; and therefore, as a thing neither sub
servient to the true purposes of religion, nor grounded
upon principles of reason, nor lastly, suitable to the
practice of antiquity, ought by all means to be cast out
of every sober and well ordered church ; or that will
be sure to throw the church itself out of doors.
And thus I have at length finished what I had to say
of the first ingredient of a pious and reverential prayer,
which was Premeditation of Thought, prescribed to
us in these words, Let not thy mouth be rash, nor thy
heart be hasty to utter any thing before God ; which
excellent words and most wise advice of Solomon,
whosoever can reconcile to the expediency, decency,
or usefulness of extempore-prayer, I shall acknoAvledge
him a man of greater parts, than Solomon „ himself.

DISCOURSE VII.

OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER.

ECCLES. v. 2.
God is in heaven, and thou upon earth ; therefore let
thy words be few.
The other ingredient of a reverential and duly qual
ified prayer, is a pertinent Brevity of Expression, men
tioned and recommended in that part of the text ;
Therefore let thy words be few.
II. Concerning which, we shall observe, first in
general, that to be able to express our minds briefly,
and fully too, is absolutely the greatest commendation
that speech is capable of; such a mutual communica
tion of our thoughts being (as I may so speak) the next
approach to intuition, and the nearest imitation of the
converse of blessed spirits made perfect, that our con
dition in this world can possibly raise us too. Cer
tainly the greatest conceptions that ever issued from
the mind of men, have been couched under a few,
close, home, and significant words.
But to derive the credit of this way of speaking
from an example infinitely greater than the greatest
human wisdom, was it not authorized and ennobled by
God himself in his making of the world ?'Was not the
work of all the six days transacted in- so many words ?
There was no circumlocution, or amplification, in the
case ; which makes the rhetorician Longinus, in his

140 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
book of the Loftiness of Speech, so much admire the
grandeur of Moses's style in his first chapter of Genesis,
cO xav 'IsSaiav &sd^od,ixrjs ov% 6 xv%av dvrjg, ijtsiSrf
Ttfv xov 0£ov Svvafiiv xaxd xr^v d^iav iyvagiat %af<.-
(pnvw. The lawgiver of the Jews was no ordinary man ;
because he set forth the divine Power suitably to the
majesty and greatness of it. , But how did he this?
Why, for that (says he) in the very entrance of his
laws, he gives us this short and present account of
the whole creation : God said, Let there be light, and
there was light; let there be an earth, a sea, and a
firmament, and there was so. So that all this high
eulogy given by this heathen of Moses, sprang only
from the majestic brevity of this one expression ; an
expression so suited to the greatness of a Creator,
and so expressive of his creative power, as a power
infinitely above all control, or possibility of finding
the least obstacle or delay in achieving its most stu
pendous works. Heaven, and earth, and all the host
of both, as it were, dropt from his mouth ; and na
ture itself was but the product of a Avord ; a word
not designed to express, but to constitute and give
a being. This was God's way of speaking in his first form
ing of the universe : And was it not so, in the next
grand instance of his power, his governing of it too ?
For are not the great instruments of government, his
laws, drawn up and digested into a few sentences ?
The whole body of them containing but ten command
ments, and some of those commandments not so many
words ? Nay, and have we not these also brought
into yet a narrower compass by him who best un
derstood them ? Thou shalt love the Lord thy God
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and thy
neighbour as thyself. Precepts, nothing like the te
dious, endless, confused trash of human laws ; laws
so numerous, that they not only exceed men's prac
tice, but also their arithmetic ; and so voluminous,

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 141
that no mortal head, nor shoulders neither, must ever
pretend themselves able to bear them. In God's
laws the words are few, the sense vast and infinite.
In human laws, you shall be sure to have words
enough ; but, for the most part, to discern the sense
and reason of them, you had need read them with
a microscope. And thus having shown hoAV the Almighty utters
himself, when he speaks, and that upon the greatest
occasions ; let us now descend from heaven to earth,
from God to man, and show, that it is no presumption
for us to conform our words, as well as our actions, to
the supreme pattern, and according to our poor mea
sure, to imitate the wisdom that we adore. And for
this, has it not been noted by the best observers
and the ablest judges, that the wisdom of any peo
ple has been most seen in the proverbs and short
sayings commonly received amongst them ? And what
is a proverb, but the experience and observation of
several ages, gathered up into one expression ? The
scripture vouches Solomon for the wisest of men, and
they are his proverbs that prove him so. The seven
wise men of Greece, so famous all the world over,
acquired all that fame, each of them by a single sen
tence, consisting of two or three words. And yvadi
osavxov still lives and flourishes in the mouths of all,
while many vast volumes are sunk into dust and utter
oblivion. And then for books, we shall generally find,
that the most excellent, in any art or science, have
been still the smallest and most compendious : And
this not without ground ; for it is an argument that
the author was a master of what he wrote, and had a
clear notion and a full comprehension of the subject
before him. For the reason of things lies in a little
compass, if the mind could at any time be so happy as
to light upon it. Most of the writings in the world
are but illustration and rhetoric, which signifies as much
as nothing to a mind eager in pursuit after the causes

142 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
and philosophical truth of things. It is the work of
fancy to enlarge, but of judgment to contract ; and
therefore this must needs be as far above the other, as
judgment is a nobler faculty than fancy or imagina
tion. All philosophy is reduced to a few principles,
and those principles comprized in a few propositions.
And as the whole structure of speculation rests upon
three or four axioms or maxims, so that of practice
also bears upon a very small number of rules. And
surely there was never yet any rule or maxim that
filled a volume, or took up a week's time to be got by
heart. No ; these are the apices rerum, the very spi
rit and life of things extracted and abridged ; just as
all the lines, drawn from the vastest circumference, do
at length meet in the smallest of things, a point ; and
it is but a very little piece of wood, with which a
true artist will measure all the timber in the world.
The truth is, there could be no such thing as art or
science, could not the mind of man gather the gene
ral natures of things out of the numberless heap of
particulars, and then bind them up into such short
aphorisms, that so they may be made portable to the
memory, and thereby become ready for the judgment
to make use of, as there shall be occasion.
In fine, brevity and succinctness of speech is that
which, in philosophy, we call maxim and first princi
ple ; in the counsels and resolves of practical wisdom
and the deep mysteries of religion, oracle ; and last
ly, in matters of wit and the finenesses of imagina
tion, epigram. All of them severally, and in their
kinds the greatest and the noblest things that the mind
of man can show the force and dexterity of its facul
ties in.
And now, if this be the perfection of speech in
all other things, can we assign any true, solid rea
son, why it should not be so likewise in prayer ?
Nay, is there not rather the clearest reason imagin
able, why it should be much more so ? Since most.

DlSC VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 143
of the forementioned things are but addresses to a
human understanding, which may need as many words
as may fill a volume, to make it understand the truth
of one line. Whereas pra)er is an address to that
eternal Mind, which (as we have shown before) such
as rationally invocate, pretend not to inform. Nev
ertheless, since the nature of man is such, that Avhile
we are yet in the body, our reverence of God must
of necessity proceed in some analogy to the reverence
that we show to the grandees of this world, we will
here see what the judgment of all wise men is, con
cerning fewness of words, when we appear as sup
pliants before our earthly superiors ; and we shall find,
that they generally allow it to import these three
things: 1. Modesty. 2. Discretion. And 3. Height
of Respect to the person addressed.
1. And first, for Modesty. Modesty is a kind of
shame or bashfulness, proceeding from the sense a
man has of his own defects, compared with the per
fections of him whom he comes before. And that
which is modesty towards men, is devotion towards
God. It is a virtue that makes a man unwilling to
be seen, and fearful to be heard ; and yet for that
very cause, never fails to make him, both seen with
favour, and heard with attention. It loves not many
words, nor indeed needs them. For modesty address
ing to any one of a generous worth and honour, is sure
to have that man's honour for its advocate, and his
generosity for its intercessor. And how then is it pos
sible for such a virtue to run out into words ? Lo
quacity storms the ear, but modesty takes the heart ;
that is troublesome, this gentle, but irresistible. Much
speaking is always the effect of confidence ; and con
fidence still presupposes, and springs from the persua
sion that a man has of his own worth : Both of them,
certainly, very unfit qualifications for a petitioner.
2. The second thing that naturally shows itself in
paucity of words, is Discretion ; and particularly, that

144 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
prime and eminent part of it that consists in a care of
offending ; which Solomon assures us, that in much
speaking, it is hardly possible for us to avoid : Prov. x.
19. In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin. It
requiring no ordinary skill for a man to make his tongue
run by rule, and, at the same time, to give it both its
lesson and its liberty too. For seldom or never is
there much spoke, but something or other had better
been not spoke ; there being nothing that the mind of
man is so apt to kindle, and take distaste at, as at
words : And therefore, whensoever any one comes to
prefer a suit to another, no doubt, the fewer of them
the better ; since, where so very little is said, it is
sure to be either candidly accepted, or, which is next,
easily excused : But, at the same time, to petition,
and to provoke too, is certainly very preposterous.
3. The third thing, that Brevity of Speech com
mends itself by, in all petitionary addresses, is a pecu
liar Respect to the person addressed: For, whosoever
petitions his superior, in such a manner, does, by his
very so doing, confess him better able to understand,
than he himself can be to express his own case. He
owns him, as a patron, of a preventing judgment and
goodness, and, upon that account, able, not only to
answer, but also to anticipate his requests. For, ac
cording to the most natural interpretation of things,
this is to ascribe to him a sagacity so piercing, that it
were presumption to inform ; and a benignity so great,
that it were needless to importune him. And can
there be a more winning deference to a superior, than
to treat him under such a character ? Or can any thing
be imagined so naturally fit and efficacious, both to en
force the petition and to endear the petitioner ? A
short petition to a great man is not only a suit to him
for his favour, but also a panegyric upon his parts.
And thus I have given you the three commendatory
qualifications of brevity of speech, in our applications
to the great ones of the world. Concerning which, as

DISC. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 145
I showed before, that it was impossible for us to form
our addresses, even to God himself, but with some pro
portion to those that we make to our fellow mortals
in a condition much above us ; so it is certain, that
whatsoever the general judgment and consent of man
kind allows to be declarative of our honour to those,
must (only with due allowance of the difference of the
object) as really and properly signify that honour and
adoration due from us to the great God ; and, conse
quently, what we have said for brevity of speech, with
respect to the former, ought equally to conclude for it,
with relation to him too.
But to argue more immediately to the point before
us : I shall noAV produce five arguments, enforcing
brevity, and cashiering all prolixity of speech, with pe
culiar reference to our addresses to God.
And the First argument shall be taken from this
consideration : That there is no reason allegible for
prolixity of speech, that is at all applicable to prayer.
For whosoever uses multiplicity of words must of ne
cessity do it for one of these three purposes ; either to
inform or persuade, or lastly, to weary and overcome
the person whom he directs his discourse to. But the
very foundation of what I had to say upon this subject,
was laid by me, in demonstrating that prayer could not
possibly prevail with God any of these ways : For as
much as being omniscient, he could not be informed ;
and, being void of passion or affections, he could not
be persuaded ; and, lastly, being infinitely great, he
could not, by any importunity, be overcome ; and if
so, what use then can there be of rhetoric, harangue,
or multitude of words in prayer ? For, if designed for
information, must it not be infinitely sottish and un
reasonable, to go about to inform him, Avho can be ig
norant of nothing ? Or to persuade him, whose un
changeable nature makes it impossible for him to be
wrought upon ? Or, lastly, by long and much speaking,
to think to weary him out, whose infinite power, all
19

146 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
the strength of men and angels is not able to encoun
ter or stand before ? So tbat the truth is, by loquacity
and prolixity a man does indeed (whether he thinks
so or no) rob God of the honour of those three great
attributes. For, on the other side, all the usefulness
of long speech in human converse is founded only upon
the imperfections of human nature. For he whose
knowledge is at best but limited, and whose intellect,
both in apprehending and judging, proceeds by a small
diminutive light, cannot but receive an additional light,
by the conceptions of another clearly expressed, and
by such expression conveyed to his apprehension. And
he again, whose nature subjects him to want and weak
ness, and consequently to hopes and fears, cannot but
be moved this way, or that way, according as objects
suitable to those passions shall be dexterously repre
sented, and set before his imagination, by the arts of
speaking ; which is that we call persuasion. And,
lastly, he whose soul and body receive their activity
from, and perform all their functions by, the mediation
of the spirits, which ebb and flow, consume, and are
renewed again, cannot but find himself very uneasy
upon any tedious, verbose application made to him ;
and that sometimes to such a degree, that through mere
fatigue, and even against judgment and interest both,
a man shall surrender himself as conquered, to the over
bearing vehemence of such solicitations : For when
they ply him so fast, and pour in upon him so thick,
they cannot but wear and waste the spirits, as unequal
to so pertinacious a charge ; and this is properly to
weary a man. But now all weariness, we know, pre
supposes weakness ; and consequently every long, im
portunate petition is truly and properly a force upon
him that is pursued Avith it ; it is a following blow af
ter blow upon the mind and affections, and may, for
the time, pass for real, though short persecution.
This is the condition of human nature ; and prolix
ity of speech is still the great engine to attack it by,.

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 147
either in its blind or weak side ; and, I think, I may
venture to affirm, that it is seldom that any man is
prevailed upon by words, but upon a true and philo
sophical estimate of the whole matter, he is either de
ceived or wearied, before he is so, and parts with the
thing desired upon the very same terms, that either a
child parts with a jewel for an apple, or a man parts
with his sword when it is forcibly wrested from him ;
and that he who obtains what he has been rhe
torically or importunately begging for, goes away really
a conqueror, and triumphantly carrying off the spoils
of his neighbour's understanding, or his will ; baffling
the former, or wearying the latter into a grant of his
restless petitions.
And now, if this be the case, when any one comes
with a tedious, long-winded harange to God, may not
God properly answer him with those words : Surely
thou thinkest I am altogether such an one as thyself?
And perhaps, upon a due and rational examination of
all the follies and indecencies that men are apt to be
guilty of in prayer, they will all be found resolvable
into this one thing, namely, that men, when they pray,
take God to be such an one as themselves, and so treat
him accordingly : The malignity and mischief of which
gross mistake may reach farther than possibly at first
they can well be aware of. For if it be idolatry to
pray to God the Father, represented under the shape
of a man, can it be at all better to pray to him as re
presented under the weakness of a man ? Nay, if the
misrepresentation of the object makes the idolatry, cer
tainly by how much the worse and more scandalous
the misrepresentation is, by so much the grosser must
be the idolatry. To confirm which, we may add this
consideration, that Christ himself, even now in his
glorified estate, wears the body and consequently the
shape of a man, though he is far from any of his infir
mities ; and therefore, no doubt, to represent God to
ourselves under these latter, must needs be more ab-

148 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII
surd and irreligious, than to represent him under the
former. But to one particular of the preceding dis
course some may object ; that if God's omniscience,
by rendering it impossible for him to be informed, be a
sufficient reason against prolixity of prayer, it will fol
low, that is equally a reason against the using any
words at all in prayer, since the proper use of words is
to inform the person whom we speak to ; and, conse
quently, where information is impossible, words must
needs be superfluous.
To which I answer, first by concession, that if the
sole use of words were to inform the Person whom we
speak to, the consequence would be good, and equally
conclude against the use of any words at all in prayer.
But therefore, in the second place, I deny information
to be the sole and adequate use of speech, or indeed
any use of them, Avhen either the person spoken to
needs not be informed, and withal is known not to
need it, as sometimes it falls out with men ; or, when
he is incapable of being informed, as it is always with
God. But the proper use of words, whensoever we
speak to God in prayer, is thereby to pay him honour
and obedience ; God having, by an express precept,
enjoined us the use of words in prayer, commanding
us in Ps. 1. 15. and many other scriptures, to call up
on him ; and in Luke xl. When we pray, to say, Our
Father, &c. But no where has he commanded us to
do this with multiplicity of words ; and though it must
be confessed, that we may sometimes answer this com
mand by mental or inward prayer, yet since these
words, in their most proper signification, import a vo*
cal address, there is no doubt, but the direct design of
the command is to enjoin this also, wheresoever there
is ability to perform it. So that we see here the ne
cessity of vocal prayer, founded upon the authority of
a divine precept ; whereas, for long prolix prayer, no
such precept can be produced ; and consequently the
divine omniscience may be a sufficient reason against

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 149
multiplicity of words in prayer, and yet conclude noth
ing absolutely against the bare use of them. Never
theless, that we may not seem to allege bare command,
unseconded by reason, (which yet, in the divine com
mands, it is impossible to do,) there is this great rea
son for the use of words in prayer, without the least
pretence of informing the person whom we pray to ;
and that is, to acknowledge those wants before God,
that we supplicate for a relief of ; it being very proper
and rational to own a thing even to him who knew it
before : Forasmuch as this is so far from offering to
communicate to him the thing so acknowledged, that
it rather presupposes in him an antecedent knowledge
of it, and comes in only as a subscription to the reality
and truth of such a knowledge. For to acknowledge
a thing, in the first sense of the word, does by no means
signify a design of notifying that to another, but is
truly a man's passing sentence upon himself and his
own condition ; there being no reason in the world for
a man to expect that God should relieve those Avants
that he himself will not own or take notice of, any
more than for a man to hope for a pardon of those sins
that he cannot find in his heart to confess. And yet,
I suppose, no man in his right senses does or can imag
ine, that God is brought to the knowledge of those
sins by any such confession.
And so much for the clearing of this objection ; and,
in the whole, for the first argument produced by us
for Brevity ; namely, that all the reasons that can be
assigned for prolixity of speech, in our converse with
men, cease, and become no reasons for it at all, when
we are to pray to God.
The Second argument for paucity of words in prayer
shall be taken from the paucity of those things necessa
ry to be prayed for. And surely, where few things
are necessary, few words should be sufficient. For
where the matter is not commensurate to the words,
all speaking is but tautology ; that being really tautol-

150 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
ogy, where the same thing is repeated, though under
never so much variety of expression : as it is but the
same man still, though he appears every day, or every
hour, in a new and different suit of clothes.
The adequate subject of our prayers (I showed at
first) comprehended in it things of necessity and of cha
rity. As to the first, I know nothing absolutely ne
cessary, but grace here, and glory hereafter ; and for
the other, we know what the apostle says : Having
food and raiment, let us be therewith content. Na
ture is satisfied with a little, and grace with less.
And now, if the matter of our prayers lies within so
narrow a compass, why should the dress and out
side of them diffuse itself into so disproportioned a
largeness ? By reason of which our words will be
forced to hang loose and light, without any matter
to support' them ; much after the same rate that it
is said to be in transubstantiation ; where accidents
are left in the lurch by their proper subject, that
gives them the slip, and so leaves those poor slender
beings to uphold and shift for themselves.
In brevity of speech, a man does not so much speak
words as things ; things in their naked truth, and strip
ped of their rhetorical mask and fallacious gloss ; and
therefore, in Athens, they circumscribed the pleadings
of their orators by a strict law, cutting off prologues
and epilogues, and commanding them to an immediate
representation of the case, by a succinct declara
tion of mere matter of fact ; and this was indeed to
speak things fit for a judge to hear, because it argued
the pleader also a judge of what was fit for him to
speak. And now, why should not this be both decency and
devotion too, when we come to plead for our poor souls
before the great tribunal of heaven ? It was the say
ing of Solomon, A word to the wise ; and if so, there
can be no necessity of many words to him, who is
Wisdom itself. For can any man think, that God de-

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 151
lights to hear him make speeches, and to show his
parts, (as the word is,) or to jumble a multitude of
misapplied scripture sentences together, interlarded
with a frequent, nauseous repetition of Ah Lord ! which
some call exercising their gifts, but with a greater ex
ercise of their hearers' patience ? Nay, does not he
present his Maker, not only with a more decent, but
also a more liberal oblation, who tenders him much in
a little, and brings him his whole heart wrapt up in
three or four words, than he who with full mouth and
loud lungs, sends up whole vollies of articulate breath
to the throne of grace ? For neither in the esteem of
God or man, ought multitude of words to pass for any
more : In the present case, no doubt, God accepts of
the former, as infinitely a more valuable offering than
the latter. As that subject pays his prince a much no
bler tribute, who tenders him a purse of gold, than he
who brings him a whole cart-load of farthings, in which
there is weight without worth, and number without
account. The Third argument for brevity of speech in prayer,
shall be taken from the very nature and condition of
ihe person who prays, which makes it impossible for
him to keep up the same fervour and attention in a
long prayer, that he may in a short. For as I first ob
served that the mind of man cannot, with the same
vigour, attend two several objects at the same time,
so neither can it, with the same earnestness, exert it
self upon one and the same object for any long time ;
great intention of mind spending the spirits too fast to
continue its first freshness and agility long. For while
the soul is a retainer to the elements, and a sojourner
in the body, it must be content to submit its own quick
ness and spirituality to the dulness of its vehicle, and
to comply with the pace of its inferior companion ; just ¦
like a man shut up in a coach, Avho, while he is so,
must be willing to go no faster than the motion of the
coach will carry him. He who does all by the help of

152 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [DlSC. VII.
those subtle, refined parts of matter called spirits, must
not think to persevere at the same pitch of acting,
while those principles of activity flag. No man begins
and ends a long journey with the same pace.
But now, when prayer has lost its due fervour and
attention, (which indeed are the very vitals of it,) it
is but the carcass of a prayer, and, consequently, must
needs be loathsome to God : Nay, though the great
est part of it should be carried on with an actual atten
tion, yet if that attention fails to enliven any one part
of it, the whole is but a joining of the living and the
dead together ; for which conjunction the dead is not
at all the better, but the living very much the worse.
It is not length, nor copiousness of language, that is
devotion, any more than bulk and bigness is valour, or
flesh the measure of the spirit. A short sentence may
be oftentimes a large and a mighty prayer. Devotion
so managed, being like water in a well, where you
have fulness in a little compass ; which surely is much
nobler than the same carried out into many petit,
creeping rivulets, with length and shallowness to
gether. Let him who prays, bestow all that strength,
fervour, and attention, upon shortness and significance,
that Avould otherwise run out, and lose itself in luxu-
riancy of speech to no purpose. Let not his tongue
outstrip his heart, nor presume to carry a message to
the throne of grace, while that stays behind. Let him
not think to support so weighty a duty with a languish
ing, and be-jaded devotion ; to avoid which, let a
man contract his expression, where he cannot enlarge
his affection, still remembering, that nothing can be
more absurd in itself, nor more unacceptable to God,
than for one engaged in the great work of prayer, to
hold on speaking, after he has left off praying ; and to
keep the lips at work, when the spirit can do no
more. The Fourth argument for conciseness of speech in
prayer, shall be drawn from this, that it is the most

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 153
natural and lively way of expressing the utmost ago
nies and outcries of the soul to God upon a quick,
pungent sense, either of a pressing necessity, or an
approaching calamity, which, we know, are general
ly the chief occasions of prayer, and the most effec
tual motives to bring men upon their knees, in a
vigorous application of themselves to this great duty.
A person ready to sink under his wants, has neither
time, nor heart, to rhetoricate, or make flourishes.
No man begins a long grace, when he is ready to
starve : Such an one's prayers are like the relief he
needs, quick and sudden : He is like a man in tor
ture upon the rack, whose pains are too acute to let
his words be many, and whose desires of deliverance
too impatient to delay the things he begs for, by the
manner of begging it.
It is a common saying ; If a man does not know
how to pray, let him go to sea, and that will teach
him. And we have a notable instance of what kind
of prayers men are taught in that school, even in the
disciples themselves, when a storm arose, and the sea
raged, and the ship was ready to be cast away, Matt.
A'iii. In which case, we do not find that they fell
presently to harangue it about seas and winds, and
that dismal face of things that must needs appear all
over the devouring element at such a time ; all which,
and the like, might, no doubt, have been very plen
tiful topics of eloquence to a man who should have
looked upon these things from the shore, or discoursed
of Avrecks and tempests safe and warm in his parlour.
But these poor wretches, who were now entering,
as they thought, into the very jaws of death, struggling
with the last efforts of nature, upon the sense of a de
parting life, and consequently could neither speak nor
think any thing low or ordinary in such a condition,
presently rallied up and discharged the whole concern
of their desponding souls in that short prayer, of but
three words, though much fuller, and more forcible,
20

154 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
than one of three thousand, v. 25. Save us, Lord, or
ive perish. Death makes short work when it comes,
and will teach him, who would prevent it, to make
shorter. For surely no man who thinks himself a per
ishing, can be at leisure to be eloquent, or judge it
either sense or devotion, to begin a long prayer, when,
in all likelihood, he shall conclude his life before it.
The Fifth argument that I shall produce for Brevity
of Speech in prayer, shall be taken from the examples
which we find in scripture, of such as have been re
markable for brevity, and of such as have been noted
for prolixity of speech, in the discharge of this duty.
And first, for brevity. To omit all those notable ex
amples, which the Old Testament affords us of it ; and
to confine ourselves to the New, in which we are un
doubtedly most concerned. Was not this way of pray
ing not only warranted, but sanctified, by that infinitely
exact form of prayer, prescribed by the greatest, the
holiest, and the wisest man that ever lived, even Christ
himself, the Saviour of the world ? Was it not an in
stance both of the truest devotion, and the most com
prehensive reason, that ever proceeded from the mouth
of man ? And yet withal the most succinct model that
ever grasped all the needs and occasions of mankind,
both spiritual and temporal, into so small a compass ?
Doubtless, had our Saviour thought fit to amplify, he,
in whom were hid all the treasures of wisdom, could
not want matter, nor he who was himself the Word,
want variety of the fittest to have expressed his mind
by. But he chose rather to contract the whole con
cern of both worlds into a few lines, and to unite both
heaven and earth in his prayer, as he had done before
in his person. And indeed one was a kind of copy or
representation of the other.
So then, we see here brevity in the pattern, let us
see it next in the practice, and after that, in the success
of prayer. And first ; we have the practice, as well
as the pattern of it, in our Saviour himself ; and that,

DISC. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 155
in the most signal passage of his whole life, even his
preparation for his approaching death. In which dolo
rous scene, when his whole soul was nothing but sor
row, (that great moving spring of invention and elocu
tion,) and when nature was put to its last and utmost
stretch, and so had no refuge but in prayer, yet even
then all his agony and distress of spirit delivers itself
but in two very short sentences, in Matth. xxvi. O my
Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ;
nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt. And
again the second time, with the like brevity ; and last
ly, the third time also, he used the same short form
again ; and yet, in all this, he was, (as we may say
without a metaphor,) even praying for life, so far as
the great business he was then about, to wit, the re
demption of the world, would suffer him to pray for it.
All which prayers of our Saviour, and others of like
brevity, are properly such as we call ejaculations ; an
elegant similitude from a dart or arrow, shot or thrown
out : and such an one, we know, of a yard long, will fly
farther, and strike deeper, than one of twenty.
And then, in the last place, for the success of such
brief prayers ; I shall give you but three instances of
this ; but they shall be of persons praying under the
pressure of as great miseries as human nature could
well be afflicted with. And the first shall be of the
leper, Matth. viii. 2. or, as St. Luke describes him, a
man full of leprosy, who came to our Saviour, and
worshipped him ; and, as St. Luke again has it more
particularly, fell on his face before him, (which is the
lowest and most devout of all postures of Avorship,)
saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
This was all his prayer ; and the answer to it was,
that he was immediately cleansed. The next instance
shall be of the poor blind man, in Luke xviii. follow
ing our Saviour with this earnest prayer : Jesus, thou
Son of David, have mercy upon me. His whole pray
er was no more : For it is said that he went on, re-

156 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
peating it again and again : Jesus, thou Son of Da
vid, have mercy upon me. And the answer he re
ceived was, that his eyes were opened, and his sight
restored. The last instance shall be of the Publican, Luke
xviii. praying under a lively sense of as great a leprosy
and blindness of soul, as the other two could have of
body, v. 13. He smote upon his breast, saying, God,
be merciful to me, a sinner. He spoke no more, though
he went solemnly and purposely up to the temple to
pray : The issue of which prayer was, that he went
home justified, before one of those whom all the Jewish
church revered as absolutely the highest and most he
roic examples of piety, and most beloved favourites of
heaven, in the whole world. And now, if the force
and virtue of these short prayers could rise so high as
to cleanse a leper, to give sight to the blind, and to jus
tify a Publican ; and, if the worth of a prayer may at
all be measured by the success of it, I suppose no
prayers whatsoever can do more ; and, I never yet
heard or read of any long prayer that did so much.
Which brings on the other part of our fifth argument,
which was to be drawn from the examples of such as
have been noted in scripture for prolixity of prayer.
And of this, there are only two mentioned ; the Hea
thens and the Pharisees. The first, the grand instance
of idolatry ; the other, of hypocrisy : But Christ forbids
us the imitation of both. When ye pray, says our Sa
viour, Be ye not like the heathens, Matth. vi. But in
what ? Why, in this, that they think they shall be
heard for their much speaking. It is not the multitude
that prevails in armies, and much less in words. And
then for the Pharisees, whom our Saviour represents
as the very vilest of men and the greatest of cheats ;
we have them amusing the world with pretences of a
more refined devotion, while their heart was all that
time in their neighbour's coffers. For does not our Sa
viour expressly tells us, (Luke xx.) that the great hooks

Disc. VII.] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 157
or engines, by which they compassed their worst, their
wickedest, and most rapacious designs, were long
prayers ? Prayers made only for a show or colour ;
and that, to the basest and most degenerous sort of
villany, even the robbing the spittal, and devouring
the houses of poor, helpless, forlorn widows. Their
devotion served all along but as an instrument to their
avarice, as a factor or under agent to their extortion ;
a practice, which duly seen into, and stript of its hy
pocritical blinds, could not but look very ill-favoured ly ;
and therefore, in come their long robes, and their long
prayers together, and cover all. And the truth is,
neither the length of one, nor of the other, is ever
found so useful, as when there is something more than
ordinary that wrould not be seen. This was the gain
ful godliness of the Pharisees ; and, I believe, upon
good observation, you will hardly find any like the
Pharisees for their long prayers, who are not also ex
tremely like them for something else. And thus hav
ing given you five arguments for brevity, and against
prolixity of prayer, let us now make this our other
great rule, whereby to judge of the prayers of our
church, and the prayers of those who dissent and divide
from it. And first,
For that excellent body of prayers contained in
our Liturgy, and both compiled and enjoined by public
authority. Have we not here a great instance of
brevity and fulness together, cast into several short,
significant collects, each containing a distinct, entire,
and well managed petition ? The whole set of them
being like a string of pearls, exceeding rich in conjunc
tion, and therefore of no small price, even single and
by themselves. Nothing could have been composed
with greater judgment ; every prayer being so short,
that it is impossible it should weary ; and withal so
pertinent, that it is impossible it should cloy the devo
tion ; and indeed so admirably fitted to the common
concerns of a Christian society, that wrhen the rubrick

158 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
enjoins but the use of some of them, our worship is
not imperfect ; and when we use them all, there is
none of them superfluous.
And the reason assigned by some learned men for
the preference of many short prayers, before a continu
ed long one, is unanswerable ; namely, that by the
former there is a more frequent mention made of the
name, and some great attribute of God as the encou
raging ground of our praying to him, and withal of the
merits and mediation of Christ, as the only thing that
can promise us success in what we pray for : Every
distinct petition beginning with the former, and end
ing with the latter : by which we do manifestly con
fess that we cannot expect to obtain any one thing at
the hands of God, but with a particular renewed re
spect to the merits of a Mediator, and withal remind
the congregation of the same, by making it their part
to reneAV a distinct amen to every distinct petition.
Add to this, the excellent contrivance of a great part
of our Liturgy into alternate responses ; by which means
the people are put to bear a considerable share in the
whole service, which makes it almost impossible for
them to be only idle hearers, or, which is worse, mere
lookers on; as they are very often, and maybe always,
(if they can but keep their eyes open,) at the long, te
dious prayers of the Nonconformists. And this indeed
is that which makes our Liturgy truly a book of Common-
Prayer. For, I think I may truly avouch, (how strange
soever it may seem at first,) that there is no such
thing as common or joint-prayer any where amongst
the principal dissenters from the church of England :
For, in the Romish communion, the priest says over
the appointed prayers only to himself, and the rest of
the people, not hearing a word of what he says, repeat
also their own particular prayers to themselves ; and
when they have done, go their way ; not all at once,
. as neither do they come at once, but scatteringly, ac
cording as they have finished their devotions. And

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 159
then for the Nonconformists ; their prayers being all
extempore, it is (as we have shown before) hardly pos
sible for any, and utterly impossible for all to join in
them. For, surely, people cannot join in a prayer be
fore they understand it ; nor can it be imagined, that
all capacities should presently and immediately under
stand what they hear, when possibly, the holder-forth
himself understands not what he says. From all which
we may venture to conclude, that that excellent thing
Common prayer, which is the joint address of a whole
congregation, with united voice as well as heart, send
ing up their devotions to Almighty God, is no where to
be found in these kingdoms, but in that nearest copy
of primitive worship, the divine service, as performed
according to the orders of our church.
As for those long prayers, so frequently used by
some before their sermons, the constitution and canons
of our church are not at all responsible for them ; hav
ing provided us better things, and with great Avisdom
appointed a form of prayer, to be used by all before
their sermons. But as for this way of praying, noAV
generally in use, as it was first took up upon an hu
mour of novelty, and by the same carried on, till it
had passed into a custom, and so put the rule of the
church first out of use, and then out of countenance
also ; so, if it be rightly considered, it will, in the very
nature of the thing itself, be found a very senseless
practice. For, can there be any propriety in beginning
a new, tedious prayer in the pulpit, just after the
church has, for near an hour together, with great va
riety of offices, suitable to all the needs of the congre
gation, been praying for all, that can possibly be fit for
Christians to pray for ? Nothing certainly can be more
irrational. For which cause, amongst many more, that
old sober form of bidding prayer, which, both against
law and reason, has been justled out of the church by
this upstart, puritanical encroachment, ought, with
great reason, to be restored by authority ; and both the

160 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
use and users of it, by a strict and solemn reinforce
ment of the canon upon all, be rescued from that unjust
scorn of the factitious and ignorant, which the tyranny
of the contrary, usurping custom, will otherwise expose
them to. For surely, it can neither be decency nor
order for our clergy to conform to the fanatics, as many
in their prayers before sermon now-a-days do.
And thus having accounted for the prayers of our
church, according to the great rule in the text, Let thy
words be few; let us, according to the same, consider
the way of praying, so much applauded by such as
have renounced the communion and liturgy of our
church ; it is but reason, that they should bring us
something bettej in the room of Avhat they have so dis
dainfully cast off. But, on the contrary, are not all
their prayers exactly after the heathenish and phari-
saical copy ; always notable for those two things,
length and tautology ? Two whole hours for one
prayer, at a fast, used to be reckoned but a moderate
dose ; and that, for the most part, fraught with such
blasphemous expressions, that, to repeat them would
profane the place I am speaking in ; and indeed they
seldom carried on the work of such a day, (as their
phrase was,) but they left the church in need of a new
consecration. Add to this, the incoherence and con
fusion, the endless repetitions, and the insufferable non
sense, that never failed to hold out, even with their
utmost prolixity ; so that in all their long fasts, from
first to last, from seven in the morning, to seven in the
evening, (which was their measure,) the pulpit was
always the emptiest thing in the church ; and I never
knew such a fast kept by them, but their hearers had
cause to begin a thanksgiving, as soon as they had
done. And the truth is, when I consider the matter
of their prayers, so full of ramble and inconsequence,
and in every respect so very like the language of a
dream, and compare it with their carriage of them
selves in prayer, Avith their eyes for the most part shut,

Disc. VII] OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. 161
and their arms stretched out in a yawning posture, a
man that should hear any of them pray, might, by a
very pardonable error, be induced to think, that he
was all the time hearing one talking in his sleep ; be
sides the strange virtue which their prayers had to pro
cure sleep in others too. So that he who should be
present at all their long cant, would show a greater
ability in watching, than ever they could pretend to in
praying, if he could forbear sleeping, having so strong
a provocation to it, and so fair an excuse for it. In a
word, such were their prayers, both for matter and ex
pression, that could any one exactly write them out, it
would be the shrewdest and most effectual way of
writing against them, that could possibly be thought of.
I should not have thus troubled either you or my
self, by raking into the dirt and dunghill of these men's
devotions, upon the account of any thing either done
or said by them in the late times of confusion ; for as
they have the kingh, so I wish them God's pardon also,
whom, I am sure, they have offended much more than
they have both kings put together. But that which
has provoked me thus to rip up to you their nauseous
and ridiculous way of addressing to God, even upon
the most solemn occasions, is that intolerably rude and
unprovoked insolence and scurrility, with which they
are every day scoffing at our Liturgy and the users of
it, and thereby alienating th&~minds of people from it,
to such a degree that many thousands are drawn by
them into a fatal schism ; a schism that, unrepented
of, will as infallibly ruin their souls, as theft, whore
dom, murther, or any other of the most crying, damn
ing sins whatsoever. But leaving this to the justice
of the government, to which it belongs to protect us in
our spiritual as well as in our temporal concerns, I shall
only say this, that nothing can be more for the honour
of our Liturgy, than to find it despised only by those
who have made themselves remarkable for despising
the Lord's Prayer as much.
21

162 OF EXTEMPORE-PRAYER. [Disc. VII.
In the mean time, for ourselves of the church of
England, who, without pretending to any new lights,
think it equally a duty and commendation to be wise,
and to be devout only to sobriety, and who judge it no
dishonour to God himself, to be worshipped according
to law and rule. If the directions of Solomon, the
precept and example of our Saviour, and lastly, the pi
ety and experience of those excellent men and martyrs,
who first composed, and afterwards owned our Liturgy
with their dearest blood, may be looked upon as suffi
cient guides to us in our public worship of God ; then,
upon the joint authority of all these, we may pronounce
our Liturgy the greatest treasure of rational devotion in
the Christian world. And I know no prayer necessary,
that is not in the Liturgy, but one, which is this ; that
God would vouchsafe to continue the Liturgy itself in
use, honour, and veneration, in this church forever.
And I doubt not, but all wise, sober, and good Chris
tians will, with equal judgment and affection, give it
their amen.

DISCOURSE VIII.*

THE VIRTUOUS EDUCATION OF YOUTH.

PROV. xxii. 6.
Train up a child in ihe way he should go, and when
he is old, he will not depart from it.
When I look back upon the old infamous rebellion
and civil war, which like an irresistible torrent broke
down the whole frame of our government, both in
church and state, together with the principal concerns
of private families, and the personal interests of par
ticular men, (as it is not imaginable, that where a
deluge overtops the mountains, it should spare the
valleys) ; and when I consider also, how fresh all this
[ * The following " Advertisement to the Reader,'' prefixed to this
discourse, gives a diverting picture of the author's chagrin, seeking to
relieve itself in affected irony. The cause of his disappointment it
might be curious to know, though at this day it will be vain to seek.
South's temper, in this notice, rather awkwardly blends with his habitual
homage to high birth and station ; and that too, in the present instance,
in the person of one of the most notorious and detested characters in
English history. — Ed.]
Whosoever shall judge it worth his time to peruse the following dis
course, (if it meets with any such,) he is desired to take notice, that it
was penned, and prepared to have been preached at Westminster-Ab
bey, at a solemn meeting of such as had been bred at Westminster
school. But the death of King Charles II. happening in the mean
time, the design of this solemnity fell to the ground, together with him,
and was never resumed since ; though what the reason of this might be,
I neither know, nor ever thought it worth while to inquire. It being
abundantly enough for me, that I can with great truth affirm, that I
never offered myself to this service, nor so much as thought of appear
ing in a post so manifestly above me ; but that a very great person, (the

164 virtuous education [Disc. VIII.
is in the remembrance of many, and how frequent in
the discourse of most, and in both carrying the same
face of horror (as inseparable from such reflections) ;
I have wondered with myself, and that even to as
tonishment, how it should be possible, that in the
turn of so few years, there should be so numerous a
party in these kingdoms, Avho (as if the remembrance
of all those dismal days, between forty and sixty,
were utterly erased out of the minds of men, and of
the annals of time) are still ready, nay, eager, and
impetuously bent to act over the same tragical scene
again. Witness, first of all, the many virulent and
base libels spread over the whole nation against the
king and his government; and next, the design of
seizing his royal person, while the parliament was
held in Oxford in the year 1682 ; and likewise the
ifye-conspiracy, intended for the assassination of the
king, and of the duke his brother, in the year 1683 ;
and lastly, though antecedent in time, the two famous
*city cavalcades of clubmen in the years of 1679 and
1680, countenanced under that silly pretence of burn-
Lord Jefferys,) whose word was then law, as well as his profession, was
pleased mero motu (to speak in the prerogative style, as best suiting so
commanding a genius) to put this task upon me, as well as, afterwards,
to supersede the performance of it: The much kinder act this of the
two, I must confess, and that in more respects than one, as saving me
the trouble of delivering, and at the same time blushing at so mean a
discourse, and the congregation also, the greater, of hearing it. But
what farther cause there was, or might be, of so much uncertainty in
this whole proceeding, I cannot tell; unless possibly, that what his
lordship as chief justice had determined, he thought Jit as chancellor to
reverse. Nevertheless, out of an earnest (and I hope very justifiable) desire,
partly to pass a due encomium (or such at least as I am able) upon so
noble a seat of the Muses, as this renowned school has been always
accounted ; and partly to own the debt lying upon me to the place of
my education, I have at length presumed to publish it. So that, al
though neither at the time appointed, nor ever since, have I had any
opportunity given me to preach this sermon myself; yet now that it is
printed, possibly some other may condescend to do it, as before in several
such cases the like has been too well known to have been done.
* R. C. said he had tossed up the ball, and his successor, P. W. said
lie would keep it up. This is to say, extortion began the dance, and per
jury would carry it on.

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 165
ing the pope, but carried on with so much insolence
and such an open, barefaced contempt of all authority,
as if the rabble had in plain terms bid the govern
ment do its worst, and touch or meddle with them,
if it durst. So hard has the experience of the world
found it, - for the. pardon of a guilt (too big for the
common measures of pardon) to produce any thing
better than the same practices, which had been par
doned before.
But since nothing can happen without some cause
or other, I have been farther considering with my
self what the cause of this terrible evil, which still
looks so grim upon the government, should be ; and
to me it seems to be this : That as the foremen
tioned rebellion and civil war brought upon the na
tion a general dissolution of order, and debauchment
of men's manners, so, the greatest part of the nation
by much, now alive, has been bom, or at least bred
since. For surely those who are now about or un
der fifty years of age, make a much greater number
in the kingdom, than those who are above it ; es
pecially so. much above it, as to have passed their
youth before the time of the late confusions, which
have since so perfectly new modelled, or rather ex
tinguished the morality, nay, the very natural tem
per of the English nation.
For this is certain, that thinking men observe with
sorrow, that the change is so very great, that there
is no relation in society, or common life, but has been
the worse for it. For look into families, and you will
find parents complaining, that their children pay them
not that duty and reverence, which they have heard
and read, that children used to show heretofore. Mas
ters also complain, that servants are neither so obedi
ent, nor so trusty as in former times. And lastly, for
the conjugal relation, (a thing of the greatest and, most
direct influence upon the weal or wo of societies,) it is
but too frequent a complaint, that neither are men so

166 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
good husbands, nor women so good wives, as they
were, before that accursed rebellion had made that
fatal leading breach in the conjugal tie between the
best of kings and the happiest of people. But now,
how comes all this to pass ? Why, from the exorbi
tant license of men's education. They were bred in
lawless, ungoverned times, and conventicle fanatic
academies, in defiance of the universities, and when all
things were turned topsy-turvy, and the bonds of gov
ernment quite loosed, or broken asunder. So that as
soon as they were able to observe any thing, the first
thing which they actually did observe, were inferiors
trampling upon their superiors : servants called by vote
of parliament out of their master's service to fight
against their prince, and so to complete one rebellion
with another ; and women running in whole shoals to
conventicles, to seek Christ (forsooth) but to find some
body else. By which liberties, having once leaped
over the severity of former customs, they found it an
easy matter, with debauched morals and deflowered
consciences, to launch out into a much greater. So
that no wonder now, if in an age of a more improved
debauchery, you see men spending their whole time in
taverns and their lives in duels, inflaming themselves
with wine, till they come to pay their reckoning with
blood ; and women spending both time and fortune,
and perhaps their honour too, at balls, plays, and treats.
The reason of all which is, that they are not now bred
as they were heretofore : For that which was former
ly their diversion only, is now their chief, if not sole
business ; and in case you would see or speak with
them, you must not look for them at their own houses,
but at the play-house, if you would find them at home.
They have quite cashiered the commandment, which
enjoins them six days doing what they have to do, and
substituted to themselves a very different one in the
room of it ; according to which they are for six days
to go to plays and to make visits, setting apart a seventh

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 167
to go to church to see and to be seen ; a blessed im
provement, doubtless, and such as the fops our ances
tors (as some use to call them) were never acquainted
with. And thus I have in some measure shown you
the true grievance, which this poor and distracted king
dom groans under ; a grievance, (without the help of
a vote,) properly so called ; a grievance springing from
a boundless, immense, and absurd liberty. For though
the zealous outcry and republican cant still used to
join those two tinkling words, liberty and property, to
gether, (in a very different sense from what belonged
to them,) to make a rattle for the people ; yet I am
sure the intolerable excess of liberty has been the chief
thing which has so much contributed to the curtailing
their properties ; the true, if not only cause, which, of
late years, has made such numbers so troublesome to
the government, as they have been.
Well, but if it be our unhappiness, that the mischief
has become almost general, let us at least prevent the
next degree of it, and keep it from being perpetual.
And this is not to be done, but by a remedy which
shall reach as far and deep as the distemper ; for that
began early, and therefore the cure must do so too,
even from the childhood of the patient, and the infancy
of the disease. There must be one instauratio magna
of the methods and principles of education, and the
youth of the nation, as it were, new cast into another
and a better mould.
And for this, we have the counsel and conduct of
the wisest of men, Solomon himself, who knew no
other course to ensure a flourishing practice of virtue,
in a man's mature or declining age, but by planting it
in his youth"; as he that would have his grounds load
ed with fruit in autumn, must manure and dress them
in the spring. Train up a • child in the way that he
should go ; the way, non qua itur, sed qua eundum est.
Man is of an active nature, and must have a way tp
walk in, as necessarily as a place to breathe in. And

168 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
several ways will be sure to offer themselves to his
choice ; and he will be as sure to choose one of them.
His great concern is, that it be a safe one ; since, as
the variety of them makes the choice difficult, so the
illness of some of them must make it dangerous. For
(as the same Solomon tells us) there is a way which
seems right in a man's own eyes, when yet the ten
dency of it is fatal ; an easy, pleasant, and a broad
way, a way always thronged with passengers, but
such, that a man is never the safer for travelling in
company. But this is not the way here chalked out
to us. But rather a rugged and narrow way; and
upon that account, the lesser, and consequently the
younger any one is, the easier may he get into it, and
pass through it. In a word, it is the high road to
heaven, the via ad bonos mores ; the entrance into
which, some say, is never too late, and, I am sure, can
never be too soon. For it is certainly long and labori
ous ; and therefore, whosoever hopes to reach the end
of it, it will concern him to set out betimes ; and his
great encouragement so to do, is, that this is the like
liest means to give him constancy in it. He will not
forsake it when he is old ; and such is the length of the
stage, that it will be sure to hold him in his course,
and to keep him going on, till he is grown so.
It is, in my opinion, very remarkable, that notwith
standing all the rewards which confessedly belong to
virtue in both worlds, yet Solomon alleges no other
argument for the course here recommended to us, but
the end of it ; nor enjoins us the pursuit of virtue in
our youth, upon any other reason mentioned in the
words, but that we may practise it in our age. And
no doubt it is an excellent one, and will have many
others fall in with it, for the enforcement of the duty
here prescribed to us.
For can any thing in nature be more odious and
despicable, than a wicked old man ? A man who, af
ter three or four score years spent in the world, after

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 169
so many sacraments, sermons, and other means of
grace, taken in, digested and defeated, shall continue
as errant an hypocrite and masquerader in religion as
ever, still dodging and doubling with God and man,
and never speaking his mind, nor so much as opening
his mouth in earnest, but when he eats or breathes.
Again, can any thing be so vile and forlorn, as an
old, broken, and decrepid sensualist, creeping, as it
were, to the devil upon all Jour ? Can there be a
greater indecency, than an old drunkard ? or any thing
more noisome and unnatural, than an aged, silver-haired
wanton, with frost in his bones, and snoiv upon his
head, following his lewd, senseless amours ? a wretch
so scorned and so abandoned by all, that his very vices
forsake him.
And yet, as youth leaves a man, so age generally
finds him : If he passes his youth, juggling, shuffling,
and dissembling, it is odds but you will have him at
the same leger-demain, and showing tricks in his age
also. And if he spends his young days whoring and
drinking, it is ten to one but age wi\\ find him in the
same filthy drudgery still, or at least wishing himself
so. And lastly, if death (which cannot be far off from
age) finds him so too, his game is then certainly at the
best, and his condition (which is the sting of all) nev
er possible to be better.
And therefore, whosoever thou art, who hast en
slaved thyself to the paltry, bewitching pleasures of
youth, and lookest with a wry face and a sour eye,
upon the rough severities of virtue, consider with thy
self that the pleasures of youth will not, cannot be the
pleasures of old age, though the guilt of it will. And
consider also, what a dismal, intolerable thing it must
needs be, for a man to feel a total declension in his
strength, his morals, and his esteem together ; and re
member, that for all the disciplines of temperance, the
hardships of labour, and the abridgments of thy swell
ing appetites, it will be a sufficient and more than

170 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [DlSC. VIII.
equivalent recompense, to be healthful, chearful, and
honourable, and (which is more than all) to be virtuous,
when thou art old.
The proposition then before us is this ; that a strict
and virtuous education of youth is absolutely necessary
to a man's attainment of that unspeakable felicity of
being serviceable to his God, easy to himself, and use
ful to others, in the whole course of his following life.
In order to the proof of which, I shall lay down these
six propositions.
The First, That in the present state of nature, there
is in every man a certain corrupt principle, more or less
disposing him to evil. Which principle, sometimes
called the flesh, sometimes concupiscence, and some
times sensuality, makes one part of that which we call
original sin ; a principle which, though it both proceeds
from, and disposes to sin, yet till it comes to act, the
doctors of the Romish church deny to be in itself sin
ful. And the Pelagians deny that there is any such
thing at all ; especially our modern, orthodox, and
more authentic Pelagians. For though our church in
deed, in her ninth article, positively and expressly as
serts both, yet there having been given us, not very
long since, a new and more correct draught of disci
pline, to reconcile us to the schismatics, it is not im
possible but that in time Ave may have a new draught
ol doctrine also, to reconcile us to the Socinians.
The Second is this, that the forementioned propen
sity of the sensual principle, to vice, being left to
itself, will certainly proceed to work, and to exert it
self in action, and, if not counteracted, will continue
so to do, till practice passes into habit, and so by use
and frequency comes to acquire a domineering strength
in a man's conversation.
The Third, That all the disorders of the world, and
the confusions that disturb persons, families, and whole
corporations, proceed from this natural propensity to
vice in particular persons, which, being thus heightened

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 171
by habitual practice, runs forth into those several sorts
of vice, which corrupt and spoil the manners of men.
Whence come wars and fightings f says the apostle ;
Come they not hence, even from your lusts that war in
your members ? And indeed, it is hard to assign any
mischief befalling mankind, but what proceeds from
some extravagance, either of passion or desire ; from
lust or anger, covetousness or ambition.
The Fourth is, that when the corruption of men's
manners, by the habitual improvement of this vicious
principle, comes from personal to be general, so as to
diffuse itself over a whole community, it naturally and
directly tends to the subversion of the government
where it so prevails ; so that Machiavel himself, (a per
son never likely to die for love of virtue or religion,)
affirms over and over in his Political discourses upon
Livy, That where the mariners of a people are generally
corrupted, there the government cannot long subsist.
I say, he affirms it, as a stated, allowed principle ; and
I doubt not, but the destruction of governments may
be deduced from the general corruption of the subjects'
manners, as a direct and natural cause thereof, by a
demonstration as certain as any in the mathematics,
though not so evident ; for that, I confess, the nature
of the thing may not allow.
The Fifth is, that this ill principle, which, being
thus habitually improved, and from personal corruptions
spreading into general and national, is the cause of all
the mischiefs, public and private, which infest the
world, is to be corrected only by discipline, and the
infusion of such principles into the rational and spirit
ual part of man, as may powerfully sway his will and
affections, by convincing his understanding, that the
practice of virtue is preferable to that of vice, and that
there is a real happiness as well as honesty in the one,
and a real misery as well as a turpitude in the other ;
there being no mending or working upon the sensual
part, but by well principling the intellectual.

172 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
The Sixth is, that this discipline and infusion of good
principles into the mind, which only can and must
work this great and happy change upon a man's mo
rals, by counterworking that other sensual and vicious
principle which Avould .corrupt them, can never operate
so kindly, so efficaciously, as when applied to him in
his minority, while his mind is ductile and tender, and
so ready for any good impression. For when he comes
once to be in years, and his mind having been prepos
sessed with ill principles, and afterwards hardened
with ill practices, grows callous and scarce penetrable,
his case will be then very different, and the success of
such applications very doubtful, if not desperate.
Now the sum of these six propositions in short is
this ; that there is in every man naturally (as nature
now stands) a sensual principle disposing him to evil ;
that this principle will be sure, more or less, to pass
into action, and, if not hindered, to produce vicious
habits and customs ; that these vicious habits are the
direct causes of all the miseries and calamities that dis
turb mankind ; that when they come to spread so far,
as from personal to groAv national, they will Aveaken,
and at length destroy governments ; that this ill prin
ciple is controllable and conquerable only by discipline,
and the infusion of good and contrary principles into
the mind ; and lastly, that this discipline or infusion of
good principles, is never like to have its full force, ef
ficacy, and success, upon the minds of men, but during
their youth.
Which whole chain of propositions proceeding upon
so firm and natural, and withal so clear and evident a
connexion of each proposition with the other, I suppose
there can need no farther demonstration to prove it as
absolutely necessary, as the peace of mankind, public
and private, can be, that the minds of youth should be
formed and seasoned with a strict and virtuous, an ear
ly and preventing education.
Let us now see who they are, whose province it is.

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 173
to be so great a blessing to society, as to be the mana
gers of this important trust. And we shill find that it
rests upon three sorts of men, viz. I. Parents. II. School
masters. And III. The Clergy ; such especially as
have cure of souls.
I. And first for Parents. Let them endeavour to
deserve that honour which God has commanded their
children to pay them ; and believe it, that must be by
greater and better offices, than barely bringing them
into this world ; Avhich of itself puts them only in dan
ger of passing into a much worse. And as the good
old sentence tells us, that it is better a great deal to be
unborn, than either unbred, or bred amiss ; so it cannot
but be matter of very sad reflexion to any parent, to
think with himself that he should be instrumental to
give his child a body only to damn his soul. And
therefore let parents remember, that as the paternal is
the most honourable relation, so it is also the greatest
trust in the world, and that God will be a certain and
severe exacter of it ; and the more so, because they
have such mighty opportunities to discharge it, and that
with almost infallible success. Forasmuch as a parent
receives his child, from the hand of God and nature, a
perfect blank, a mere rasa tabula, as to any guilt ac
tually contracted by him, and consequently may write
upon him what he pleases, having the unvaluable ad
vantage of making the first impressions, which are of
so strong and so prevailing an influence to determine
the practice either to vice or virtue, that Buxtorf, in
his Synagoga Judaica tells us, that the Jewish fathers
professedly take upon themselves the guilt of all their
children's sins till they come to be thirteen years old ;
at which age the youth is called filius prcecepti, as be
ing then reckoned under the obligation of the law, and
so by a solemn discharge left to sin for himself.
Now these and the like considerations, One would
think, should remind parents, what a dreadful account
lies upon them for their children ; and that, as their

174 VIRTUOUS education [Disc. VIII.
children, by the laws of God and man, owe them the
greatest reverence, so there is a sort of reverence also,
that they, as much, owe their children ; a reverence,
that should make them not dare to speak a filthy word,
or to do a base or an undecent action before them.
What says our Saviour to this point ? Whosoever shall
offend one of these little ones, it were better for h im
thai a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and he
were drowned in the depth of the sea. And surely he,
who teaches these little ones to offend God, offends
them with a witness ; indeed so unmercifully, that it
would be much the less cruelty of the two, if the
wretch, their father, should stab or stifle those poor
innocents in their nurses' arms. For then he might
damn himself alone, and not his children also ; and
himself for his own sins only, and not for theirs too.
And therefore, with all imaginable concern of con
science, let parents make it their business to infuse into
their children's hearts early and good principles of mo
rality. Let them teach them from their very cradle to
think and speak awfully of the great God, reverently
of religion, and respectfully of the dispensers of it ; it
being no part of religion any where, but within the
four seas, to despise and scoff at the ministers of it.
But above all, next to their duty to God himself, let
them be carefully taught their duty to their king; and
not so much as pretend to the fear of the one, without
the honour of the other ; let them be taught a full and
absolute (so far as legal) obedience and subjection to
him (in ail things lawful,) the true and glorious charac
teristic of the church of England; for I know no
church else, Avhere you will be sure to find it. And to
this end, let parents be continually instilling into their
children's minds a mortal and implacable hatred of
those twin plagues of Christendom, fanaticism and re
bellion, which cannot be more compendiously and with
al more effectually done, than by displaying to them
the late unparalleled rebellion, in its flaming and true
colours.

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 175
For this was the method which God himself pre
scribed to his own people, to perpetuate the remem
brance of anv great and notable providence towards
them ; and particularly in the instance of the prime
institution of their religion, the passover, Exod. xii. 26,
27. And it shall come to pass, when your children
shall say unto you, What mean you by this service ?
That you shall say, It is the Lord's passover, &c. So
say I to all true English parents. When your children
shall ask you, Why do we keep the thirtieth of Janu
ary as a fast ? and the twenty-ninth of May as a festi
val ? What mean you by this service ? Then is the
time to rip up, and lay before them the tragical histo
ry of the late rebellion and unnatural civil Avar ; a war
commenced without the least shadow or pretence of
right, as being notoriously against all law ; a war be
gun without any provocation, as being against the just-
est, the mildest, and most pious prince, that had ever
reigned ; a war raised upon clamours of grievances,
while the subject swam in greater plenty than had
ever been knoAvn in these islands before ; and no
grievances to be found in the three kingdoms, besides
the persons who cried out of them. Next to this, let
them tell their children over and over, of the villanous
imprisonments, contumelious trial, and barbarous mur
der, of that blessed and royal martyr, by a company of
coblers, taylors, draymen, drunkards, ivhoremongers,
and broken tradesmen, though since, I confess, dignifi
ed with the title of the sober part of the nation. These,
I say, were the illustrious judges of that great monarch.
Whereas the whole people of England, nobles and
commons together, neither in parliament, nor out of
parliament, (as that great judge* in the trial of the re
gicides affirmed,) had power by law to touch one hair
of his head, or judicially to call him to account for any
of his actions. And then, in the last place, they are
to tell their children also of the base and brutish cruel-
* Sir Orlando Bridgman, Lord Chief Baron.

176 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Di.SC. VIII.
ties practised by those blood-hounds in the plunders,
sequestrations, decimations, and murder s of their poor
fellow subjects ; likewise of their horrid oaths, cove
nants, and perjuries, and of their shameless, insatiable,
and sacrilegious avarice, in destroying the purest church
in the world, and seizing its revenues ; and all this un
der the highest pretences of zeal for religion, and with
the most solemn appeals to the great God, while they
were actually spitting in his face.
These things, I say, and a thousand more, they are
to be perpetually inculcating into the minds of their
children, according to that strict injunction of God
himself to the Israelites, Deut. vi. These words shall
be in thine heart, and thou shall diligently teach them
ihy children, &c. Such discourses should open their
eyes in the morning, and close them in the evening.
And I dare undertake, that if this one thing had been
faithfully practised, even but since the late restoration,
(which came upon these poor kingdoms like life from
the dead,) the fanatics had never been so considerable
as to cause those terrible convulsions in church and
state, and those misunderstandings between king and
people, which we have seen and trembled at, and must
expect to see, as long as the same spirit, which govern
ed in forty-one, continues still so powerful, as it does,
amongst us. For, I am sure, no king and that can
ever reign quietly together.
But some, perhaps, may here very sagely object;
Is not this the way to sour the minds of children, by
keeping the remembrance of tbe late rebellion always
fresh upon them ? I answer, No ; no more than to
warn them against poisons, pits, and precipices, is like
ly to endanger their lives ; or to tell them by what ill
courses men come to the gallows, is the ready way to
bring them thither. No ; nothing can be too much
hated by children, which cannot be too much avoided
by men. And since vice never loses its hold, where it
keeps its reputation, the minds of youth can never be

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 177
sufficiently fortified against base actions, but by a deep
and early abhorrence, caused by a faithful representa
tion of them. So preposterous a method will it be
found to bring a crime out of fashion, by making pane
gyrics upon the criminal.
In short, let parents prevent the very first notions
and affections of their children, by engaging them, from
the very first, in a hatred of rebellion ; and that, if
possible, as strong as nature, as irreconcilable as an
tipathy ; and so early, that they themselves may not
remember when it began, but that, for aught they
know, it was even born with them. Let them, I say,
be made almost from their very cradle to hate it, name
and thing ; so that their blood may rise, and their heart
may swell, at the very mention of it. In a word, let
them by a kind of preventing instinct abhor it, even in
their minority, and they will be sure to find sufficient
reason for that abhorrence, Avhen they shall come to
maturity. And so much for parents.
II. The Second sort of persons thus entrusted, are
Schoolmasters. I know not how it comes to pass, that
this honourable employment should find so little respect
(as experience shows it does) from too many in the
world. For there is no profession which has or can
have a greater influence upon the public. Schoolmas
ters have a negative upon the welfare of the kingdom.
They are indeed the great trustees of the peace of it ;
as having the growing hopes and fears of the nation in
their hands ; for, generally, subjects are and will be
such as they breed them. So that I look upon an able,
well-principled schoolmaster, as one of the most meri
torious subjects in any prince's dominions that can be ;
and every such school, under such a master, as a semi
nary of loyalty, and a nursery of allegiance.
Nay, I take schoolmasters to have a more poAverful
influence upon the spirits of men, than preachers them
selves ; forasmuch as they have to deal Avith younger
and tenderer minds, and consequently have the advau-
23

178 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII-
tage of making the deepest impressions upon them ; it
being seldom found, that the pulpit mends what the
school has marred, any more than a fault in the first
concoction, is ever corrected by the second.
But now, if their influence is so strong, surely it con
cerns them to use it to the utmost, for the benefit of
their country. And for this purpose, let them fix this
as an eternal rule in the instruction of youth, that care is
to be had of their manners in the first place, and of their
learning in the next. And here, as the ground-work
of all morality, let youth be taught betimes to obey,
and to knoAV, that the very relation between teacher
and learner, imports superiority and subjection. And
therefore, let masters be sure to inure young minds to
an early reverence of government, by making the first
instance of it in themselves, and maintaining the au
thority of a master over them inviolable, still remem
bering that none is or can be fit to be a teacher, who
understands not how to be a master. For every de
gree of obstinacy in youth is one step to rebellion.
And the very same restive humour, which makes a
young man slight his master in the school, and despise
his tutor in the university, (a thing lately much in
fashion,) will make him fly in his prince's face in the
parliament-house ; of which, not many years since, we
have had some scurvy experiments.
There is a principle of pride universally wrapt up in
the corrupt nature of man ; and pride is naturally im
patient of rule ; and (which is most material to our
present case) it is a vice which puts forth betimes,
and must be encountered so too, or it will quickly car
ry too high a head, or too stiff a neck, to be controlled.
It is the certain companion of folly ; and both of them
the proper qualifications of youth ; it being the insepa
rable property of that age to be proud and ignorant,
and to despise instruction, the more it needs it. But
both of them are nuisances, which education must re
move, or the person is lost.

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 179
And it were to be wished, I confess, that the consti
tution of man's nature were such, that this might be
done only by the mild addresses of reason, and the
gentle arts of persuasion ; and that the studies of hu
manity might be carried on only by the ways of hu
manity ; but unless youth were all made up of goodness
and ingenuity, this is a felicity not to be hoped for.
And therefore it is certain, that in some cases, and
with some natures, austerity must be used ; there be
ing too frequently such a mixture in the composition
of youth, that while the man is to be instructed,, there
is something of the brute also to be chastised.
But how to do this discreetly, and to the benefit of
him who is so unhappy as to need it, requires, in my
poor opinion, a greater skill, judgment, and experience,
than the world generally imagines, and than, I am sure,
most masters of schools can truly pretend to be mas
ters of. I mean those plagosi Orbilii, those execution
ers, rather than instructors of youth ; persons fitter to
lay about them in a coach or cart, or to discipline boys
before a Spartan altar, or rather upon it, than to have
any thing to do in a christian school. I would give
those pedagogical Jehu's, those furious school-drivers,
the same advice which, the poet says, Phcebus gave
his son Phaeton (just such another driver as them
selves,) — parcere stimulis (the stimulus in driving be
ing of the same use formerly that the lash is now.)
Stripes and blows are the last remedy, and scarce ever
fit to be used, but upon such as carry their brains in
their backs, and have souls so dull as to serve for little
else but to keep their bodies from putrefaction.
Nevertheless, since (as I have shown) there are some
tempers, which make these boisterous applications
necessary, give me leave, for once, to step out of my
profession so far (though still keeping strictly within
my subject) as to lay before the educators of youth,
these few following considerations ; for I shall not, in
modesty, call them instructions.

180 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
1. Let them remember that excellent and never to
be forgotten advice, that boys will be men ; and that
the memory of all base usage will sink so deep into
them, that it will not be so much as in their own pow
er ever to forget it. For though indeed schoolmasters
are a sort of kings, yet they cannot always pass such
acts of oblivion, as shall operate upon their scholars,
or perhaps, in all things, indemnify themselves.
2. Where they find a youth of spirit, let them en
deavour to govern that spirit, without extinguishing it ;
to bend it, without breaking it ; for when it comes
once to be extinguished and lost, it is not in the poAver
or art of man to recover it ; and then (believe it) no
knowledge of nouns and pronouns, syntaxis and pro-
sodia, can ever make amends for such a loss. The
French, they say, are extremely happy at this, who
will instruct a youth of spirit to a decent boldness, tem
pered with a due modesty ; which two qualities in
conjunction, do, above all others, fit a man both for
business and address. But for want of this art, some
schools have ruined more good wits than they have
improved ; and even those which they have sent away
with some tolerable improvement, like men escaped
from a shipwreck, carry off only the remainder of those
natural advantages, which in much greater plenty they
first brought with them.
3. Let not the chastisement of the body be managed
so, as to make a wound which shall rankle and fester
in the very soul. That is, let not children, whom na
ture itself would bear up by an innate, generous prin
ciple of emulation, be cowed and depressed with scoffs
and contumelies, (founded perhaps upon the master's
own guilt,) to the contempt of their equals and emu
lators. For this is, instead of rods, to chastise them
with scorpions, and is the most direct way to stu-
pify and besot, and make them utterly regardless of
themselves and of all that is praise-worthy ; besides
that it will be sure to leave in their minds such in-

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 181
ward regrets, as are never to be qualified or worn
off. It is very undecent for a master to jest or play
with his scholars ; but not only undecent, but very
dangerous too, in such a way to play upon them.
4. And lastly, let it appear in all acts of penal
animadversion, that the person is loved while his fault
is punished ; nay, that one is punished only out of
love to the other. And (believe it) there is hard
ly any one so much a child, but has sagacity enough
to perceive this. Let not melancholy fumes and
spights, and secret animosities pass for discipline. Let
the master be as angry for the boy's fault as reason
will allow him ; but let not the boy be in fault, only
because the master has a mind to be angry. In a
word, let not the master have the spleen, and the
scholars be troubled Avith it. But above all, let not
the sins or wants of the parents be punished upon
the children ; for that is a prerogative which God has
reserved to himself.
These things I thought fit to remark, about the
education and educators of youth in general, not that
I have any thoughts of invading their province ; but
possibly a stander-by may sometimes look as far into
the game, as he who plays it, and perhaps with no
less judgment, because with much less concern.
III. The last sort of persons concerned in this great
charge, are the Clergy. For as parents deliver their
children to the schoolmaster, so the schoolmaster de
livers them to the minister. And for my own part,
I never thought a pulpit, a cushion, and an hour
glass, such necessary means of salvation, but that
much of the time and labour which is spent about
them, might be much more profitably bestowed, in
catechising youth from the desk ; preaching being a
kind of spiritual diet, upon which people are always
feeding, but never full ; and many poor souls, (God
knows,) too like Pharaoh's lean kine, much the leaner
for their full feed.

182 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION \_DisC. VIII.
And how, for God's sake, should it be otherwise !
For to preach to people without principles, is to build
where there is no foundation, or rather where there
is not so much as ground to build upon. But peo
ple are not to be harangued, but catechised into
principles ; and this is not the proper work of the
pulpit, any more than threshing can pass for sowing.
Young minds are to be leisurely formed and fashioned
with the first plain, simple, and substantial rudiments
of religion. And to expect that this should be done
by preaching, or force of lungs, is just as if a smith or
artist, who works in metal, should think to frame and
shape out his work only with his belloivs.
It is Avant of catechising, which has been the true
cause of those numerous sects, schisms, and wild opin
ions, which have so disturbed the peace, and bid fair
to destroy the religion of the nation. For the con
sciences of men have been filled with wind and noise,
empty notions and pulpit-tattle. So that amongst the
most seraphical illuminati, and the highest puritan per
fectionists, you shall find people of fifty years old, not
able to give that account of their faith, which you
might have had heretofore from a boy of nine or ten.
Thus far had the pulpit (by accident) disordered the
church, and the desk must restore it. For you know
the main business of the pulpit, in the late times, was
to pamper a proud, senseless humour, or rather a kind
of spiritual itch, which had then seized the greatest
part of the nation, and worked chiefly about their ears ;
and none were so over-run with it, as the holy sister
hood, the daughters of Sion, and the matrons of the
New Jerusalem (as they called themselves.) These
brought with them ignorance and itching ears in abun
dance ; and holder-forth equalled them in one, and grati
fied them in the other. So that whatsoever the doctrine
was, the application still ran on the surest side ; for to
give those doctrine and use men, those pulpit-engineers,
their due, they understood how to plant their batteries,

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 183
and to make their attacks, perfectly well, and knew that
by pleasing the wife, they should not fail to preach the
husband in their pocket. And therefore, to prevent
the success of such pious frauds for the future, let
children be well-principled, and in order to that, let
them be carefully catechized.
Well ; but when they are thus catechized, what is
to be done next ? Why then, let them be brought to
the bishop of the diocese to be confirmed by him, since
none else, no not all the presbyters of a diocese, (nor
presbyterians neither,) can perform this apostolical act
upon them. For though indeed a bishop may be in
stalled, and visit, and receive his revenues too, by
proxy, yet I am sure he can no more confirm than or
dain by proxy ; these being acts incommunicably epis
copal. The church of Rome makes confirmation a sacra
ment ; and though the church of England does not
affirm it to be such, yet it owns it of divine and apos
tolical institution. And as to the necessity of it, I
look upon it as no less than a completion of baptism in
such as outlive their childhood, and for that cause
called by the ancients xsXsicoais. It is indeed a man's
owning that debt in person, which passed upon him in
his baptism by representation.
It is also expressly instituted for the collation of
those peculiar gifts of the Spirit, by the imposition of
episcopal hands, which the rubric represents as requi
site, to bear him through his Christian course and con
flict. For till a person be confirmed, he cannot regu
larly partake of that high and soul-supporting ordi
nance, the sacrament of the Lord's supper. And these
are the considerations which render the confirmation
of children necessary, and the neglect of it scandalous
and utterly unjustifiable. For is there so much as the
least shadow of excuse allegible for parents not bring
ing their children to the bishop to be confirmed by
him ? or for the bishop not to confirm them when duly

184 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
brought ? The general failure in this duty is no doubt
chargeable upon the former; the grand rebellion of
Forty-one, and the dissolution of all church order there
upon, absolutely unhinging the minds of most of the
nation, as to all concern about religion ; nevertheless,
if on the other side also, both the high importance of
the ordinance itself, and the vast numbers of the per
sons whom it ought to pass upon, be duly pondered,
it will be found next to a necessity, (if at all short of
it,) that there should be episcopal visitations more than
once in three years, if it were only for the sake of con
firmations; especially since the judges of the land think
it not too much for them to go two circuits yearly.
And some are apt to think that no less care ought to
be employed in carrying on the discipline of the gospel,
than in dispensing the benefits of the law. For cer
tainly the importance of the former, with those who
think men's souls ought to be regarded in the first
place, is no ways inferior to that of the latter ; at least,
many wise and good men of the clergy, as well as
others, (who hope they may lawfully wish, what they
pretend not to prescribe,) have thought the proposal
not unreasonable. For confirmation being the only
regular inlet, or rather authentic ticket of admission to
the Lord's supper, and yet withal the sole act of the
bishop ; if people, who desire to obtain it, should find
that they cannot, would they not be apt to think them
selves hardly dealt with, that when Christ has frankly
invited them to his table, they should, for want of con
firmation, find the door shut against them, when they
come ?
Besides that nothing can be imagined more for the
episcopal dignity, than that after Christ has thus pre
pared this heavenly feast for us, he yet leaves it to his
bishops, (by lodging this confirming power in their
hands,) to put us into a regular capacity of appearing
at that divine banquet, and of being welcome, when we
are there. And therefore, in short, since the power of

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 185
confirming, no less than that of ordaining itself, is, as
we have shown, so peculiar to the episcopal character,
as to be also personal and incommunicable ; all well-
wishers to the happy estate of the church, must needs
wish, that, as the laws of it have put a considerable
restraint upon unlimited ordinations, so they would
equally enforce the frequency of confirmations ; since
a desuetude of these latter must no less starve the
altar, than a superfluity of the former overstock the
church ; both of them, I am sure, likely to prove fatal
to it.
But to proceed ; as the minister, having sufficiently-
catechised the youth of his parish, ought to tender
them to the bishop to be confirmed by him ; and the
bishop, for his part, to give his clergy as frequent op
portunities of doing so as possibly he can ; so after they
are thus confirmed, he is to take them into the farther
instructions of his ministry, and acquaint them with
what they have been confirmed in. And here, the
better to acquit himself in this important trust, let him
take a measure of what good the pulpit may do, by the
mischief which it has already done. For in the late
times of confusion, it was the pulpit, which supplied
the field with swordmen, and the parliament-house with
incendiaries. And let every churchman consider, that
it is one of the principal duties of the clergy to make
the king's government easy to him, and lo prepare him
a willing and obedient people. For which purpose,
the canons of our church enjoin every minister of it to
preach obedience and subjection to the government,
four times a year at least. And this, I am sure, can
not be more effectually done, than by representing the
faction, which troubles and undermines it, as odious,
ridiculous, and unexcusable, as with truth, he can ;
and by exposing those villanous tricks and intrigues,
by which they overturned the monarchy under King
Charles I. and would have done the same again under
King Charles II. though he had obliged them by a
24

186 VIRTUOUS education [Disc. VIII.
mercy not to be paralleled, and an oblivion never to be
forgot. Let every faithful minister, therefore, of the church
of England, in a conscientious observance of the laws
laid upon him by the said church, make it his business
to disabuse the people committed to his charge, by
giving them to understand, that most of that noise,
which they have so often heard ringing in their ears,
about grievances, arbitrary power, popery and tyranny,
oppression of tender consciences, court-pensioners, and
the like, has been generally nothing else, but mere flam
and romance, and that there is no government in Chris
tendom less chargeable with any of these odious things,
than the English government under his present majesty;
and consequently, that all these clamours are only the
artifices of some malcontents and ambitious dema
gogues, to fright their prince to compound with them,
by taking them off (as the word is) with great and
gainful places ; and therefore, that they bark so loud,
and open their mouths so wide, for no other cause than
that some preferment may stop them ; the common
method, I own, by which weak governments use to
deal with such as oppose them ; till in the issue, by
strengthening their enemies, they come to ruin them
selves, and to be laughed at for their pains. For that
governor, whosoever he is, who prefers his enemy,
makes him thereby not at all the less an enemy, but
much more formidably so, than he was before.
And whereas yet farther, there have been such ve
hement invectives against court-pensioners, let the peo
ple, who have been so warmly plied with this stuff, be
carefully informed, that those very men, who spread
these invectives, do not indeed (as they pretend) hate
pensioners so much, but that they love pensions more,
and have no other quarrel to them, but that any should
be thought worthy to receive them but themselves.
And then, as for the next clamour about oppression
of tender consciences ; let every conscientious preacher

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 187
throughly instruct his congregation, that there is no
such thing ; that from the very restoration of the king,
they have been all along allowed (by a law made for
that purpose) to worship God after their own way in
their own families with five more persons besides ; so
that all the persecution of these men amounts but to
this, that the government will not suffer them to meet
in troops and brigades, and so, under colour of worship
ping God, to muster their forces, and show the govern
ment how ready they are, when occasion serves, for a
battle ; so that in truth it is not so much liberty of con
science, as liberty from conscience, which these men
contend for. Likewise let the faithful minister teach
his people, that, as the main body of the nation hates
popery with the utmost aversion, so that stale pretence
of the danger of its being every day ready to return,
while this general aversion to it continues, and the
laws against it stand in full force (as at present they
certainly do) is all of it from top to bottom nothing
else but an arrant trick and term of art, and a republi
can engine to rob the church, and run down the clergy
(the surest bulwark against popery) ; as the very same
plea had effectually served them for the same purpose
once before. And lastly, let the youth of the nation
be made to know, that all the stir raised by schismat
ics and dissenters, against the rites of the church of
England, (which after so much noise are but three in
number, and those not only very innocent, but very ra
tional too,) has been intended only for a blind and a
cheat upon those lamentable tools, the unthinking rab
ble, whom these leading impostors are still managing
and despising at the same time. For can any man of
sense imagine, that those, Avhose conscience could
serve them to murder their king, (and him the most
innocent and pious of kings,) do, or can really scruple
the use of ihe surplice, the cross in baptism, or kneel
ing at the sacrament ? Alas ! they have a cormorant
in their conscience, which can swallow all this, and a

188 VIRTUOUS EDUCATION [Disc. VIII.
great deal more. But the thing they drive at by this
noisy, restless cant, is to get the power and revenues
of the church into their comprehensive clutches ; and,
according to a neighbouring pattern, having first pos
sessed themselves of the church, to make their next
inroads upon the state. I say, it is power and wealth,
and nothing else, which these pretenders design, and
push so hard for ; and when they have once compass
ed it, you shall quickly see, how effectually these men
of mortification will mortify all who differ from them ;
and how little favour and indulgence they Avill show
those who had showed them so much before. Such
is the cruelty and ingratitude of the party.
All which and the like important heads of discourse,
so nearly affecting not only the common interest, but
the very vitals of the government, had the parochial
clergy frequently and warmly insisted upon to their re
spective congregations, and to the younger part of them
especially ; such a course could not, but in a short
time, have unpoisoned their perverted minds, and rec
tified their false notions, to such a degree as Avould in
all likelihood have prevented those high animosities,
those divisions and discontents, which have given such
terrible shocks both to church and state, since the late
happy, but never yet duly improved, restoration.
And now I must draw towards a close, though I have
not despatched the tenth part of what I had to say up
on this useful, copious, and indeed inexhaustible sub
ject. I have only two things more to add, and by way
of request to you, great men ; you who are persons of
honour, power, and interest -in the government ; and,
I hope, will show to what great and good purposes you
are so.
1. And the first is; that you would employ the ut
most of this your power and interest, both with the
king and parliament, to suppress, utterly to suppress
and extinguish those private, blind, conventicling acad
emies of grammar and philosophy, set up and taught

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 189
secretly by fanatics, all the kingdom over ; a practice
which, I will undertake to prove, looks with a more
threatening aspect upon the government, than any one
fanatical or republican encroachment made upon it be
sides. For this is the direct and certain way to bring up
and perpetuate a race of mortal enemies both to church
and state. To derive, propagate, and immortalize the
principles and practices of Forty-one to posterity, is
schism and sedition for ever, faction and rebellion in
scecula sceculorum ; which, I am sure, no honest Eng
lish heart will ever say amen to. We have, I own,
laws against conventicles ; but, believe it, it would be
but labour in vain to go about to suppress them, while
these nurseries of disobedience are suffered to continue.
For those early aversions to the government, which
these shall infuse into the minds of children, will be too
strong for the clearest after-convictions, when they are
men. So that what these under-ground workers have
once planted a brier, let no governor think, that by all
the arts of clemency and condescension, or any other
cultivation, he shall be able to change into a rose. Our
ancestors, to their great honour, rid the nation of
wolves, and it were well, if (notwithstanding their
sheep's clothing) the church could be rid of them too ;
but that neither will, nor can ever be, so long as they
shall be suffered to breed up their litters amongst us.
Good God ! can all history show us any church or
state since the creation, that has been able to settle or
support itself by such methods ? I can, I thank God,
(looking both him and my conscience in the face,)
solemnly affirm, that I abhor every thing like cruelty to
men's persons, as much as any man breathing ; but for
all that, the government must not be ruined, nor pri
vate interests served to the detriment of the public,
though upon the most plausible pretences whatsoever.
And therefore it will certainly concern the whole no
bility, gentry, and all the sober commonalty of the na
tion, for the sake of God, their prince, their country,

190 VIRTUOUS education [Disc. VIII.
and their own dear posterity, to lay this important
matter to heart. For unless these lurking, subterra
neous nests of disloyalty and schism* be utterly disman
tled, all that the power and wit of man can do to se
cure the government against that faction, which once
destroyed it, will signify just nothing. It will be but
as the pumping of a leaky vessel, which will be sure to
sink for all that, when the deA'ouring element is still
soaking and working in an hundred undiscerned holes,
while it is cast out only at one.
2. My other request to you, great men, is ; that you
would, in your respective stations, countenance all le
gal, allowed, free grammar-schools, by causing (as
much as in you lies) the youth of the nation to be bred
up there, and no where else ; there being sometimes,
and in some respects, as much reason why parents
should not breed, as why they should not baptize their
children at home.
But chiefly, let your kind and generous influences
upon all occasions, descend upon this royal and illus
trious school, the happy place of your education ; a
school, which neither disposes men to division in
church, nor sedition in state ; though too often found
the readiest way (for churchmen especially) to thrive
by ; but trains up her sons to an invincible loyalty to
their prince, and a strict, impartial conformity to the
church ; a school so untaintedly loyal, that I can truly
and knowingly aver, that in the very worst of times,
(in which it was my lot to be a member of it,) we
really were king's scholars, as well as called so. Nay,
upon that very day, that black and eternally infamous
day of the king's murder, I myself heard, and am now
a witness, that the king was publicly prayed for in this
* The reader is desired to cast his eye upon a printed piece, entitled
A Letter from a country divine to his friend in London, concerning the
education of the dissenters, in their private academies, in several parts
of this nation ; humbly offered to the consideration of the grand com
mittee of parliament for religion, now sitting. Printed at London for
Robert Clavell in St. Paul's church-yard, 1703.

Disc. VIII] OF YOUTH. 191
school, but an hour, or two, at most, before his sacred
head was struck off. And this loyal genius always
continued and grew up with us ; which made that
noted Corypheus* of the Independent faction, (and
some time after, viz. 1651, promoted by Cromwell's
interest to the deanery of Christ-Church in Oxford,)
often say, that it would never be well with the nation,
till this school was suppressed ; for that it naturally
bred men up to an opposition to the government. And
so far indeed he was in the right ; for it did breed up
people to an opposition to that government, which had
opposed and destroyed all governments besides itself;
nay, and even itself too at last ; which was the only
good thing it ever did. But if in those days, some
four or five bred up in this school, (though not un
der this master,) did unworthily turn aside to other
by-ways and principles, we can however truly say this
of them, that though they went out from us, yet they
were never of us. For still the school itself made
good its claim to that glorious motto of its royal
foundress, semper eadem ; the temper and genius of it,
being neither to be corrupted with promises, nor con
trolled with threats.
For though, indeed, we had some of those fellows
for our governors, (as they called themselves,) yet
thanks be to God, they were never our teachers ; no,
not so much as when they would have perverted us,
from the pulpit. I myself, while a scholar here, have
heard a prime preacherf of those times, thus address
ing himself from this very pulpit, to the leading gran
dees of the faction in the pew under it ; You stood
up for your liberties, and you did well. And what
he meant by their liberties, and what by their stand
ing up for them, I suppose, needs no explication.
But though our ears Avere still encountered with such
doctrines in the church, it was our happiness to be
taught other doctrine in the school; and what we
* Dr. John Owen. f Mr. William Strong.

192 virtuous education of youth. [Disc. VIII.
drank in there, proved an effectual antidote against
the poison prepared for us here*
And therefore, as Alexander the Great admonished
one of his soldiers (of the same name with himself)
still to remember that his name was Alexander, and
to behave himself accordingly ; so, I hope, our school
has all along behaved itself suitably to the royal name
which it bears ; and that it will make the same au
gust name the standing rule of all its proceedings for
ever ; still remembering with itself, that it is called the
king's school, and therefore let nothing arbitrary or ty
rannical be practised in it, whatsoever has been prac
tised against it. Again, it is the king's school, and
therefore let nothing but what is loyal come out of it,
or be found in it : let it not be so much as tinctured
with any thing which is either republican ox fanatical :
that so the whole nation may have cause to wish,
that the king may never want such a school, nor the
nation may ever want such a king; a prince, great in
every thing which deserves to be accounted great ; a
prince, who has some of all the christian royal blood
in Europe, running in his veins ; so that to be a prince,
is only another word for being of kin to him ; who,
though he. is the princely center of so many royal lines,
meeting in his illustrious person, is yet greater for his
qualifications, than for his extraction ; and upon both
accounts much likelier to be envied, than equalled by
any, or all the princes about him. In a word, and to
conclude all ; a prince so deservedly dear to such as
truly love their country and the prosperity of it, that,
could it be warrantable to pray for the perpetuity of
his life amongst us, and reign over us, we could not do
it in words more proper and significant for that pur
pose, than that God would vouchsafe to preserve the
one, and continue the other, till we should desire to
see a change of either.
* Viz. Westminster-Abbey, where this sermon was appointed to have
been preached.

DISCOURSE IX.
the mystery of the blessed trinity.

COL. ii. 2.
— To the acknowledgment of the mystery of God,
and of the Father, and of Christ.
In the handling of the doctrine of the Trinity, I do
not remember any place so often urged, and insisted
upon by divines, as that in 1 John v. 7. There are
three who bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word,
and the Holy Ghost ; and these three are one : a text
fully containing in it the doctrine of three distinct di
vine persons, in one and the same blessed and eternal
Godhead ; a doctrine unanimously received by the
catholic christian church, and warranted by the testi
mony of the most ancient, genuine, and unexception
able copies of the New Testament, as well as of the
most noted fathers concerning it ; and that not only
as of a single article, but rather as the sum total of our
christian faith, a full, but short compendium of our re
ligion. And yet under these high advantages of credi
bility, we see what opposition it met with, both from
ancients and moderns ; of the first sort of which, we
have Arius, with his infamous crew, leading the van,
by questioning the text itself, as if not originally ex
tant in some two or three ancient copies of this epistle ;
and, of the latter sort, are those innumerable sects
sprung up since ; some of them openly denying, and
25

194 the mystery of the [Disc. IX.
some of them (whose learning one would have thought
might have been better employed) slyly undermining
this grand fundamental ; and while they seemingly ac
knowledge the truth, as it lies in the bare words of the
text, treacherously giving it up in the explication.
As for the Socinians, who hold with the Arians, so
far as they oppose us, they have a double refuge. And
first, with them pretending the doubtfulness of the text,
they would farther evade it by a new interpretation of
its sense, affirming, that this expression [these three
are one] does not of necessity import an unity of na
ture, but only of consent : The Father, the Word, and
the Holy Ghost, being therefore said to be one, be
cause they jointly and indivisibly carry on one and the
same design.
Thus say they ; but if no more than matter of con
sent were here intended, where then (in God's name)
would be the mystery, which the universal christian
church have all along acknowledged to be contained in
these words ? For that the Father, the Word, and the
Holy Spirit, should thus jointly carry on the grand
business of saving mankind, is a doctrine expressing in
it nothing mysterious, or surpassing man's understand
ing at all.
But farther, if unity of consent only were intended,
why in all reason was it expressed by k'v slat, that is,
they are one thing, being, or nature, and not rather by
sis x6 Sv slat, they agree in one ? as in the very next
verse, such an unity of concurrence in the spirit, the
water, and the blood, is expressed by the same words,
manifestly importing no unity of nature or being, but
only of agreement in some certain respect or other ;
and doubtless, in so very near a conjunction of words,
had the sense been perfectly the same, there can be no
imaginable reason given, why the apostle should in the
very same case thus have varied the expression.
But, for yet a farther assertion of the great truth
now insisted upon, this text out of the epistle to the

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 195
Colossians will as effectually evince the same, as the
place before mentioned ; though perhaps not quite so
plainly, nor wholly in the same way ; that is to say, it
will do it by solid inference and just consequence from
the words, though not expressly in the words them
selves. And accordingly we may consider those words,
Els STtiyvcadiv xov fxvdxtfgiov xov 0sov, xut Ilaxgos,
xai xov Xgufxov, two different ways, viz.
1. As the term xov 0sov may be taken personally,
as in scripture sometimes it is, and then it will here
signify the Holy Ghost, the third person of the blessed
Trinity, though not indeed mentioned in this place in
the same order in which the three persons commonly
use to be ; but the order, I conceive, may sometimes
be less observed, without any detriment to the article
itself. And so this text will point out to us the doc
trine of the ever blessed Trinity, as well as that fore-
alleged place out of St. John. But,
2. If the word xov 0sov be here taken essentially,
and for the divine nature only, then the particle xal
will import here properly a distribution of xov 0bov
(the divine nature) as a term common to those two,
tov Ilaxgos, xal xov Xgiaxov, as to two particular per
sons, distinguished by their respective properties. And
so taken, it must be confessed, that the term xov 0sov
here will not signify the person of the Holy Ghost.
But granting all this ; are there not, however, two
other persons in the divine nature manifestly signified
thereby ? Forasmuch as the Godhead, here imported
by xov Osov, is expressly applied both to the Father
and the Son, in those words xov (ivoxrigiov xov 0sov,
xal Ilaxgos, xal xov Xgidxov. And that, I am sure,
(should it reach no farther,) is a full and irrefragable
confutation of the Socinians, the grand opposers of the
doctrine now insisted upon. For these men deny not
a plurality of persons in the Godhead from any pre
tence of some peculiar repugnancy of the number of
three to the same, more than of any other number ; but

196 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
that there can be any more persons in the Godhead,
than only one ; and consequently, that a binary num
ber of persons in it would, in a Socinian's account,
pass for no less an absurdity, than even a trinity itself;
the grand article controverted between us and them.
The Avords therefore being thus examined and ex
plained, I shall draw forth the sense of them into this
one proposition : That a plurality of persons, or per
sonal subsistences in the divine nature, is a great mys
tery, and so to be acknowledged by all who really are,
and profess themselves Christians. The discussion of
which shall lie in these two things ; in showing,
I. What conditions are required to denominate a
thing properly a mystery. And II. That all these con
ditions meet in the article of the blessed Trinity.
I. And first for the first of these. The conditions
required to constitute and denominate a thing properly
a mystery, are these three. 1. That the thing so de
nominated, be in itself really true, and not contrary to
reason. 2. That it be a thing above the reach of
mere reason to find it out, before it be revealed.
3. That being revealed, it be yet very difficult for, if
not above finite reason fully to comprehend it. And
here, 1 . A mystery must be a thing really true, and by no
means contrary to reason. Where let me lay down
this maxim, as the ground- work of all that is to follow,
to wit, that as nothing can be an article of faith, that
is not true, so neither can any thing be true, that is
irrational. Some indeed lay this as their foundation,
that men in matters of religion are to deny and re
nounce their reason ; but if so, then let any one de
clare, why I am bound to embrace the christian reli
gion, rather than that of Mahomet ; and, I suppose,
you will tell me, because the christian religion was re
vealed and attested by God. To which I answer, first,
that this very thing, that it was thus attested by God,
is the greatest reason for our believing it true in the

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 197
world ; as convincing as any demonstration in the
mathematics; it being founded upon the essential, un
failing veracity of God. But, then farther, I ask, how
I shall know, that this is revealed by God ? Now
here, if you will prove this to me, (it being matter of
fact,) you must have recourse to all those grounds, up
on which reason uses to believe matters of fact, when
past ; and accordingly show me, how that all these are
to be found for the christian religion, and not of any
other pretending to contradict it. And this, I am sure,
is solid arguing in the case before us ; and being so,
what can it amount to less, than a just demonstration
of the thing here intended to be proved ? I say, a
demonstration proceeding upon principles of moral cer
tainty; a certainty such, as being denied, must infalli
bly draw after it as great an absurdity in reference to
practice, as the denial of any first principle can do in
point of speculation. As for instance, I look upon the
unanimous testimony of a competent number of sincere,
disinterested eye or ear-witnesses ; and, which is more,
(in the present case inspired too,) all affirming the same
thing, to be a ground morally certain, why we should
believe that thing ; forasmuch as the denial of its cer
tainty would, amongst many other absurdities, run us
upon this great one, that we can have no certain know
ledge of any thing, but what we ourselves have person
ally observed with our own senses ; which assertion,
if stuck to, would be as absurd and inconvenient in the
transactions of common life, as to deny, that two and
two make four in arithmetic. And in good earnest it
will be very hard (if possible) to assign any other suf
ficient reason, why our Saviour, Mark xvi. 14. upbraid
ed some with their unbelief as unexcusable, only for
not believing those who had seen him after he was risen.
In short, the ultimate object of faith is divine reve
lation ; that is, I believe such a thing true, because re
vealed by God ; but then my reason must prove to me,
that it is revealed ; so that, this way, reason is that,
into which all religion is at last resolved.

198 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
And let me add, that no one truth can possibly con
tradict another truth ; for then two contradictions might
be true. And therefore, if it be true in the christian re
ligion, that one nature may subsist in three persons,
the same cannot be false in reason. Thus much, I
confess, that, take the thing abstract from divine reve
lation, there is nothing in reason able to prove that
there is such a thing ; but then, this also is as true,
that there is nothing in reason able to disprove it, and
to evince it to be impossible.
But you will say, that for the same thing to be three,
and one, is a contradiction, and therefore reason can
not but conclude it impossible. I answer, that for a
thing to be one, in that very respect in which it is
three, is a contradiction ; but to assert, that that which
is one in this respect, may be three in another, is no
contradiction. But you will reply, that the single nature of any
person is uncommunicable to another, as the essence of
Peter is circumscribed within the person of Peter, and
so cannot be communicated to Paul.
In answer to this, let it be here observed, that this
is the constant fallacy that runs through all the argu
ments of the Socinians in this dispute ; and all that
they urge against a triple subsistence is still from in
stances taken from created natures, and applied to the
divine ; and because they see this impossible, or, at
least, never exemplified in them, they conclude hence,
that it must be so also in this.
But this is a gross and apparent error in argumenta
tion ; it being a mere transition a, genere ad genus,
which is to conclude the same thing of different kinds ;
and because this holds true in things of this nature, to
conclude the same true also in things that are of a clean
different nature, is a manifest paralogism.
To all these arguments therefore, I oppose this one,
I think, not irrational consideration : That it is a thing
very agreeable even to the notions of bare reason to

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 199
imagine, that the divine nature has a way of subsisting
very different from the subsistence of any created being.
For inasmuch as nature and subsistence go to the mak
ing up of a person, why may not the way of their sub
sistence be quite as different as their natures are con
fessed to be ? And therefore, though it be necessary
in things created (as no one instance appears to the
contrary) for one single essence to subsist in one single
person and no more, does this at all prove, that the
same must be also necessary in God, whose nature is
wholly different from theirs, and consequently may dif
fer as much in the manner of subsistence, and so may
have one and the same nature diffused into three dis
tinct persons ? This one consideration, I say, well
Weighed, will retund the edge and dint of all the So-
cinian assaults against this great article ; whom I have
still observed to assert boldly, when they conclude
weakly ; and in all their arguments to prove nothing
more than this, that the greatest pretenders to, are not
always the greatest masters of reason.
But before I dismiss this particular, I observe this,
that for a man to prove a thing clearly, is to bring it
by apparent consequence, from some principle in itself
evident, and granted by all : otherwise it would not
be a demonstration, but an infinite progress.
This being supposed ; in case any one shall so dis
prove the Trinity, as to show, that it really contradicts
some such principle of reason evident in itself, and
universally granted by the unprejudiced apprehensions
of mankind, I should not be afraid to expunge this ar
ticle out of my creed, and to discharge any man living
from a necessity of believing it. For God cannot en
join any thing absurd or impossible : But for any man
to assent to two contradictory propositions, as true,
while he perceives them contradictory, is the first-born
of impossibilities.
Reason therefore is undeservedly traduced, when it
is set up and shot at, as the irreconcilable enemy of

200 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
religion. It is indeed the very crown and privilege of
our nature ; a ray of divinity sent into a mortal body ;
the star that guides all wise men to Christ ; the Ian-
thorn that leads the eye of faith, and is no more an
enemy to it, than an obedient handmaid to a discreet
mistress. Those indeed,, whose tenets will not bear
the test of it, and whose ware goes off best in the dark
rooms of ignorance and credulity, and whose faith has
as much cause to dread a discovery as their works;
these, I say, may decry reason ; and that indeed not
without reason.
For ask. such, upon what grounds they believe the
truth of christian religion, whereas others so much op
pose it ; and here, instead of rational inducements and
solid arguments, we shall have long harangues of the
kingdom of Jesus Christ, of rolling upon the promises,
of the spirit of assurance, and the preciousness of gos
pel dispensations, with many other such-like words, as
show that they have followed their own advice to oth
ers, and wholly renounced their reason themselves.
But I cannot think or persuade myself, that God
gave us eyes, only that we may pluck them out, and
brought us into the world with reason, that, being born
men, we might afterwards grow up and improve into
brutes, and become elaborately irrational. No, surely,
reason is both the gift and image of God, and every
degre -f its improvement is a farther degree of likeli-
ness to him. And though I cannot judge it a fit
saying, for a dying Christian to make that wish of
Averroes, Sit anima mea cum philosophis ; yet while
he lives, I think no Christian ought to be ashamed to
wish, Sit anima mea cum philosophid. And for all
these boastings of new lights, inbeamings, and inspira
tions, that man that follows his reason, both in the
choice and defence of his religion, will find himself bet
ter led and directed by this one guide, than by an
hundred directories. And thus much for the first con
dition.

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 201
2. The second condition required to denominate a
thing properly a mystery, is, that it be above the reach
of reason to find it out, and that it be first knowable
only by revelation. This, I suppose, I shall not be
called upon to prove, it being a thing clear in itself.
But we have been told by some, that there are some
hints and traces of the article of the Trinity to be
found in some heathen writers, as Trismegistus and
Plato. To which I answer, first, that if there do oc
cur such hints of a Trinity in such writers, yet it fol
lows not hence, that they owed them to the invention
of their own reason, but received them from others by
tradition, who themselves first had them from revelation.
But, secondly, to the case in hand ; I answer mor^
fully, that it cannot be denied, but that some Chris
tians have endeavoured to defend the truth imprudently
and unwarrantably, by bad arts, and falsifying of an
cient writers ; and that such places as speak of the
Trinity are spurious, or at least suspicious ; as the
whole book that now goes under the name of Trisme
gistus, called his Pcemander, may justly be supposed
to be.
But that we may a little aid our apprehensions in
conceiving of this great mystery, let us endeavour to
see, whether upon the notions of reason, we can frame
to ourselves any thing that may carry in it some resem
blance at least of one single, undivided nature's cast
ing itself into three subsistences, without receding from
its own unity. And for this purpose, we may repre
sent to ourselves an infinite, rational Mind, which, con
sidered under the first, original perfection of being,
may be called the Father ; inasmuch as the perfection
of existence is the first, and productive of all others.
Secondly, in the same infinite Mind may be consider
ed the perfection of understanding, as being the first
great perfection that issues from the perfection of ex
istence, and so may be called the Son, who also is
called 6 Avyos, the Word, as being the first emanation
26

202 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
of that infinite Mind. And then, thirdly, when that
infinite Mind, by its understanding, reflects upon its
own essential perfections, there cannot but ensue an
act of volition and complacency in those perfections,
which may be called the Holy Ghost, who therefore is
said to proceed both from the Father and the Son, be
cause there must be not only existence, but also un
derstanding, before there can be love and volition.
Here then, we see, that one and the same Mind is
both being, understanding, and willing ; and yet we
can neither say that being is understanding, nor that
understanding is willing ; nor, on the contrary, that
understanding is merely being, nor that Avilling is un
derstanding. Forasmuch as the proper, natural con
ception of one is not the conception of the other, nor
yet commensurate to it. And this I propose, neither
as a full explication, nor, much less, as a just repre
sentation of this great mystery ; but only (as I inti
mated before) as some remote and faint adumbration
thereof. For still this is, and must be acknowledged
unconceivably above the reach and ken of any human
intellect ; and as a depth, in which the tallest reason
may swim, and, if it ventures too far, may chance to
be swallowed up too.
Nay, I think, that it was a thing not only locked up
from the researches of reason, amongst those that were
led only by reason, I mean the Gentiles ; but that it
was also concealed from, or at best but obscurely
known by the Jewish church. And Peter Galatine
assigns a reason, why God was not pleased to give the
Jews any express revelation of this mystery ; namely,
that people's great stupidity and grossness of appre
hension, together with their exceeding proneness to
idolatry ; by reason of the former of which, they would
have been apt to entertain very uncouth conceptions
of the Godhead and the three persons, as if they had
been three distinct gods ; and thereupon to have been
easily induced to an idolatrous opinion of them ; and

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 203
therefore, that the unfolding of this mystery was re
served till the days of the Messias, by which time the
world should, by a long increase of knowledge, grow
more and more refined and prepared for the reception
of this so sublime and mysterious an article.
This was his reason for God's concealing it from the
Jews ; for that God did so, the Old Testament, which
is the great ark and repository of the Jewish religion,
seems sufficiently to declare ; there being no text in it,
that expressly holds forth a Trinity of Persons in the
Godhead. Several texts are indeed urged for that
purpose, though (whatever they may allude to) they
seem not yet to be of that force, as to infer what some
undertake to prove by them. Such as are,
(1.) Those words in the first of Genesis, Bara
Elohim; where Elohim, signifying God, and being of
the plural number, is joined with bara, creavit a verb
of the singular. Whence some collect, that the for
mer word imports a plurality of persons, and the latter
an unity of essence. But others deny that any such
peculiar meaning ought or can be gathered from that,
which is indeed no more than an idiom of the Hebrew
language. For that Elohim, applied to others besides
God, is often joined with a singular number.
(2.) Another place alleged for the same purpose, is
that in Gen. i. 26. Let us make man, in our own image,
where they say that there is a consultation amongst
many persons in the Godhead. But to this also it is
answered, that the term, Let us make, does not of ne
cessity imply any plurality, but import only the majes
ty of the speaker ; princes being accustomed to speak
of themselves in the plural number ; as we will, and
require you, and it is our royal will and pleasure.
This is the common dialect of kings, and yet it infers
in the speaker no plurality ; for then surely a king
would speak very unlike a monarch.
(3.) There is a third place also, in Isa. vi. 3. where
the threefold repetition of holy, holy, holy, applied to

204 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
God, is urged by some to relate distinctly to the three
hypostases of the Godhead. But this is thought by
others to have so little of an argument in it, as scarce
to merit any answer ; it being so usual with all nations
and languages to express any thing vehement or extra
ordinary, by thrice repeating the word used by them ;
suitable to Avhich are those expressions that occur in
classic authors, as ter geminis tollit honoribus, and 0
ter felices, and Mi robur <y ces triplex circa pectus
erat, with infinite the like instances ; in all which, the
manner of speaking serves only to express the great
ness of the thing spoke of. So that these, and such
like places of scripture, carry not in them any such
evident proof of the Trinity, as to persuade us, that
the Jewish church could from hence arrive to any clear
knowledge of this article. The forementioned Gala-
tine indeed affirms the Talmudists to speak several
things concerning it very plainly ; and from hence con
cludes, that in regard the Talmud is a collection of the
several writings of the old Jewish doctors upon the
Old Testament, it must import, that since they wrote
of the Trinity, and the Messias, there was then a
knoAvledge of these things in the Jewish church. But
I fear the authority of these Talmudical writings will
Weigh so little in this case, that if the letter of the
scripture will not otherwise speak a Trinity, but as it
is helped out by the Talmud, few sober persons will
seek for it there. The only solid proof, that makes
towards the eviction of a Trinity from thence, I con
ceive to lie in those texts that prove the divine nature
of the Messias, Whose coming was then expected by
all the Jews. Otherwise, surely, the knowledge of this
article could but very obscurely be gathered from ,the
bare writings of Moses and tbe prophets, and conse
quently was by no means received with that explicit-
ness in the ancient Jewish church, that it is now in the
christian. As for the opinion of the modern Jews touching this

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 205
matter, we shall find, that these acknowledge no such
thing as a Trinity, but utterly explode it. And as for
the Mahometan religion, (which being a gallimaufry
made up of many, partakes much of the Jewish,) that
also wholly denies it ; and the professors of it, in all
their public performances of religious worship, with
much zeal and earnestness frequently reiterate this ar
ticle ; There is but one God, there is but one God ;
not so much out of zeal to assert the unity of the God
head, as to exclude the Trinity of Persons maintained
by Christians.
I conclude therefore, that it is very probable, that
the discovery of this mystery was a privilege reserved
to bless the times of Christianity withal, and that the
Jews had either none, or but a very confused knowledge
of it. It was the great arcanum for the receiving of
which the world was to be many ages in preparing. As
long as the veil of the temple remained, it was a secret
not to be looked into ; an holy of holies, into which
even the high priest himself did not enter. And thus
much for the second condition required to make or
constitute a mystery.
3. The last condition is this : That after it is re
vealed, it be yet difficult to be understood. And he
who thinks the contrary, let him make trial. For al
though there is nothing in reason to contradict, yet nei
ther is there any thing to comprehend it. We may as
well shut a mountain within a mole-hill, or take up the
ocean in a cockle-shell, as reach the stupendous, sacred
intricacies of the divine subsistence, by the feeble no
tions of a created apprehension.
Reason indeed proves the revelation of it by God ;
but here it stops, and pretends not to understand and
fathom the nature of the thing revealed.
If any one should plead a parity of the case, as to
this article of the Trinity, and that about transubstan
tiation, and allege, that since we deny not a Trinity,
though we understand it not, but account it a mystery,

206 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
why may we not take transubstantiation also in the
number of mysteries, and believe it, though it be im
possible to be understood ?
To this I answer, (1.) in general, that no man dis
coursing rationally upon this subject, refuses to believe
transubstantiation merely that it is impossible to be un
derstood. (2.) I affirm, that the ease between tran
substantiation and the Trinity is very different ; the
former being contradicted by the judgment of that
faculty of which it is properly the object ; the latter
being not at all contradicted, but only not comprehend
ed by the faculty, to which the cognizance of it does be
long. To make which clear, we must observe, that
both the bread and the body of Christ, about which
transubstantiation is said to be effected, being endued
with quantity, colour, and the like, are the proper ob
jects of sense, and so fall under the cognizance of the
sight and touch ; which senses being entire, they both
can and do certainly judge of their proper objects, and
upon such judgment find it to be a contradiction for a
small body retaining its own proper dimensions, at the
same time to have the dimensions of a body forty times
greater. For one body to be circumscribed, and so
compassed in one place, and at the same time to fill a
thousand more, 1 say it is a contradiction ; for it makes
the same thing in the very same respect to be circum
scribed, and not to be circumscribed; circumscribed,
because encompassed in such a place ; and yet not cir
cumscribed, because extending itself beyond that place
to many others.
II. But now, on the other side, the divine nature and
the Trinity are not the objects of sense, and conse
quently sense passes no judgment upon them. But
they are the objects of (and so only try able by) the
understanding, taking in these things from the reports
not of sense, but revelation. Which supreme faculty
being thus informed by revelation tendering these re
ports to its apprehension, and withal finding that none

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 207
of those rules by which it judges of the truth or falsity
of what it apprehends, do at all contradict what reve
lation thus reports of the divine nature and the Trini
ty ; it rationally judges, that they may, and ought to
be assented to.
For the stress of the point lies here, and let all the
reason of mankind prove, if it can, that wheresoever the
denomination of three is ascribed to any nature, it must
of necessity multiply the nature itself, and not its re
lations only. Which being so ; those that make the
article of the Trinity parallel to that of transubstantia
tion, in point of its contrariety to reason, if they will
speak to the purpose, must undertake to prove, that
for one infinite being to be in any respect whatsoever,
three, without a triplication of that nature, and so a
loss of its unity, is as repugnant to some known prin
ciple of reason discoursing upon the reports of revela
tion, as for that thing, which all my senses tell me to
be a little piece of bread, to be yet both for figure and
dimension really a man's body, is contradictory to all
those principles, by which sense judges of those things
that properly fall under the judgment of sense.
Let this, I say, be clearly and conclusively made
out, and the business is done. But till then, they must
give us leave to judge, that there is as much differ
ence between the article of the Trinity as stated by
us, and that of transubstantiation as stated by them,
as there is between difficulty and contradiction.
And now, if there be any, whose reason is so un
ruly and o\rer-curious, as to be still unsatisfied, such
must remember, that when we have made the ut
most explications of this article, we pretend not there
by to have altered the nature of the subject we have
been treating of, which, after all, is still a mystery ;
and they must know, moreover, that when the sa
cred mysteries of religion are discoursed of, the busi
ness of a Christian is sobriety and submission, and
his duty to be satisfied, even though he were not con-

208 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
vinced. The Trinity is a fundamental article of the
christian religion ; and as he that denies it, may lose
his soul, so he that too much strives to understand
it, may lose his wits. Knowledge is nice, intricate,
and tedious ; but faith is easy ; and what is more, it
is safe. And why should I then unhinge my brains,
and pursue distraction in the disquisition of that which
a little study would sufficiently convince me to be
unintelligible ? Or why should I by chewing a pill
make it useless, Avhich swallowed whole might be
curing and restorative ? A Christian, in these matters,
has nothing to do but to believe ; and since I cannot
scientifically comprehend this mystery, I shall worship
it with the religion of submission and wonder, and cast
ing down my reason before it, receive it with the de
votions of silence, and the humble distances of ado
ration. But here, having drawn the business so far, I can
not but take notice of some of those blasphemous ex
pressions which the Socinians use, concerning the sa
cred mystery of the Trinity ; their terms (as I have
collected some out of many) are such as these : " Deus
Tripersonatus. Idolum Portentosum. Figmentum Sa-
tance. Antichrisli Cerberus. Triceps Geryon. Idolum
trifons. Monstrum triforme. Deus incognitus, adeoque
procul rejiciendus, #• Satance conditori suo restituendus.
Now, that the authors of these ugly appellations show
themselves not only bold and impious, but also (what
by no means they would be thought) very unreasonable,
will, I think, appear from these two considerations :
First, That the doctrine so broadly decried by them,
is at least very difficult, and hardly comprehensible ;
and therefore, though it could not be proved true, yet,
upon the same score, it can as hardly be proved false.
But now these expressions ought to proceed not only
upon the supposition of its bare falsity, but also upon
the undeniable clearness of its falsity ; or they must
needs be impudent and intolerable.

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 209
He who says, that it is clear, that there can be no
such thing as the quadrature of the circle, makes an
impudent assertion ; for, though possibly there can be
really no such thing, yet since there have been such
considerable reasons for it as to engage the greatest
wits in the search after it, no man can rationally say,
that it is clear and manifest, that there is no such thing.
But besides, in this case, they deal very irrationally in
rejecting the doctrine of the Trinity, because it is not
intelligible ; when not only in divinity, but also in phi
losophy, (Avhere yet, not faith, but strict ratiocination
should take place,) they acknowledge many things,
which the best reason will scarce be able to frame an
explicit notion and apprehension of. Such as are the
composition and division of continued quantities, and
the like, which these men, I believe, will not deny,
though it would set them hard to give a clear account
of them.
Secondly, The same charge of absurdity lies against
these men upon this account, that they prefer their
particular reason before the united reason of a much
greater number than themselves; every one of which
were of as great industry to search, and of as great
abilities to understand the mysteries of divinity, as
these men can be presumed to be.
Now, as this is much beside good manners, so in
deed it is no less short of good reason ; which will
prove thus much at least ; that when a few learned
persons deny a proposition, and others forty times more
numerous, and altogether as learned, do unanimously
affirm it, it is very probable that the truth stands rather
with the majority.
For if I should demand of these men, how they come
to judge the doctrine of the Trinity to be false ? they
must tell me, that they have studied the point, consid
ered the text, examined it by the principles of reason,
and that by the use of these means they come at length
to make this conclusion. 27

210 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
But to this I answer, that others, who have studied
the point as much, considered the text as exactly, and
examined it by as strong principles of reason, and so
standing upon equal ground with them in point of abil
ities, have much the advantage of them in point of
number. But must I therefore conclude, that what is affirm
ed by such a majority of persons so qualified, is cer
tainly true ? I answer, No ; but this I assert, that it is
great reason, though their assertion appear never so
strange to me, that I should yet suspend my judgment,
and not peremptorily conclude it false ; since there is
hardly any way of ratiocination, used by one to prove
it a falsity, but by the very same way others persuade
themselves, that they as strongly prove it a truth.
And thus I think, that these men's exceptions against
this great article are, to such as understand reason,
sufficiently proved irrational. But since these men re
ject the doctrine of the Trinity upon pretence both of
its impiety and absurdity, it is but requisite, that they
should acquit themselves, in all their doctrine, from
any thing either impious or absurd. But yet, that they
cannot do so, these following positions, maintained by"
them, will, I believe, demonstrate.
1. To assert, as Volkelius, (de Vera Religione,) not
obscurely does, the matter of the universe to be a pas
sive principle eternally co-existing with God the active,
is impious, and not consistent with God's infinite pow
er ; for if matter has its being from itself, it will follow,
that it can preserve itself in being against all opposition,
which makes God not omnipotent.
2. To alloAV God's power to be infinite, and yet his
substance to be finite, is monstrously absurd ; but to
assert, as Crellius, in his book de Attributis Dei, does,
that his substance is circumscribed within the compass
of the highest heaven, is clearly to make it finite.
3. To allow all God's prophecies and predictions re
corded in scripture, of future contingent passages, de-

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 211
pending upon the free choice of man's will, to have
been certain and infallible, and yet his prescience of
the same contingent things not to be certain, but only
conjectural, as Socinus, in his prelections, does affirm,
is out of measure absurd and ridiculous.
4. To affirm Christ to be a mere creature, and yet
to contend, that he is to be invoked and worshipped, is
contrary to all the discourses of right reason, and withal
as offensive and scandalous to Jews and Turks, and
such-like, as the bare affirmation of his divine nature
can be pretended to be. But Socinus, though he de
nies this, yet is so earnest for the divine adoration and
invocation of Christ, that he affirms, that of the two, it
is better to be a Trinitarian, than not to ascribe this
to him.
5. To assert, that the people of God, under the
Jewish economy, lay under the obligation of no pre
cept to pray to God, as Volkelius, in his de Vera Re-
ligione, positively affirms, is an assertion highly impious,
and to all pious minds abominable.
6. To assert, that it is lawful for a man to tell a lie,
to secure himself from some great inconvenience, as
the same Volkelius does, not only consists not with
piety and sincerity, but tends to drive even common
honesty out of the world.
7. To assert, that it is unlawful for Christians in
any case to wage war, as Socinus himself does, in his
2d epistle to Christophorus Morstinus, a Polonian com
mander, in which he allows him to bring his army into
the field in terrorem hostium, provided that he neither
strikes a stroke, nor draws blood, nor cuts off a limb :
this, I say, is grossly absurd, unnatural, and contrary
to the eternal principle of self-preservation ; as en
gaging men, even for conscience' sake, to surrender
their lives and fortunes to any that shall think fit to
require them. Neither can Socinus, in reason, so urge
those words of our Saviour, of not resisting evil, in
this case, if he will be but true to his own principle.

212 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
For in his 3d book, de Christo Servatore, disputing
against Christ's satisfaction, he pleads, that in regard
it is contrary to reason, though the scripture should
never so often affirm it, yet it ought not to be admitted.
Now, if this be his rule, I demand of him, whether,
for a man to preserve himself, and that even with the
destruction of the person assailing him, supposing that
he cannot do it otherwise, be not as undeniable a dic
tate of natural reason, as any that he can pretend to
be contradicted by Christ's satisfaction. And there
fore, if he can lay aside Christ's satisfaction, though
the scripture were never so express for it, in regard of
the contrariety he pretends in it to reason ; why may
not we upon the same grounds assert the necessity of
self-preservation in the instance of war, though the
scripture expressly forbids it.
But wre need not recur to this, for the warranting
men under the gospel to defend their lives, though
with the destruction of those that would take them
away. Only this I allege as an argument ad hominem,
which sufficiently shows, how slight and desultorious
this man is in his principles and way of arguing, while
at one time he frames to himself a principle for his
present turn, and at another makes assertions, and
raises discourses, which that principle most directly
overthrows. Now all the fore-mentioned absurdities
(with many more that might be reckoned) are the
tenets of those who deny the article of the Trinity,
because (forsooth) it is impious and absurd ; that is,
who strain at one gnat, having already swallowed so
many vast camels. And yet these are the persons,
who in all their writings have the face to own them
selves to the world for those heroes, whom God, by
his special providence, has raised up to explain the
christian religion, and to reform the doctrine of the
church. I suppose, just in the same sense, that the
school of Calvin was to reform her discipline.
And now in the last place; because this article

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 213
Stands, as it were, in the very front of our religion, so
that it is of very high concernment to all to be sound
and thorough-paced in the belief of it ; I shall show,
1. What have been the causes that have first unset
tled, and at the last destroyed the belief of it in some.
And, 2. What may be the best means to settle and
preserve the belief of it in ourselves and others.
1. There are three things, which, I think, have been
the great causes that have took some off from the be
lief of this article. As,
(1.) That bold, profane, and absurd custom of some
persons, in attempting to paint and represent it in
figure. He who paints God, does a contradiction ; for
he attempts to make that visible, which he professes
to be invisible. The ministers of Transylvania and
Sarmatia, rank asserters of the Socinian heresy, in a
certain book,* (wherein they make confession of their
faith as to these articles,) insist upon nothing so much,
nor indeed so plausibly, for their rejection of the article
of the Trinity, as those several strange pictures and
images of the Trinity, which some persons had set up
in several of their churches ; sometimes describing it
by one head carved into three faces, to which, so set
up in a certain church, they subjoin this distich ;
Mense trifrons isto Janum pater urbe bifrontem
Expulit, ut solus regnet in orbe trifrons ;
That is to say, that the God having three faces, had
driven, or (if you will) outfaced poor Janus out of the
world, who had but two. And likewise elsewhere
such another ;
Jane biceps, anni tacite labentis origo ;
Trifrontem pellas, ni miser esse velis.
Sometimes also they represent it by a ring set with
diamonds, in three equi-distant places of it ; and some
times by the picture of three men of an equal pitch
sitting together at one table, and upon one seat ; and
* See a Latin book in 4to, entitled, Prcemonitiones Christi, 8f Aposto-
lorum, per ministros quosdam in Sarmatia if Transyhanid, &tc.

214 THE MYSTERY OF THE [Disc. IX.
sometimes the same is expressed by the image of an
old man, a child, and a dove ; signifying the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost : All which things being
so contrary to the very natural notions which reason
has of God, have brought many sober parts of the
world to nauseate our whole religion, as only a new
scheme of the old Gentile idolatry, and withal have
warranted the fore-mentioned heretics to think they
had cause for all those vile and wretched appellations,
with which we show how they bespattered this divine
mystery ; which blasphemies will, no doubt, be one
day laid at the door, not of those only who denied, but
of those also who painted the Trinity, and, by so do
ing, made others to deny it. And indeed, so far has
the common sort of mankind took offence at these
things, that if the belief of a God were not very deep
ly imprinted in man's nature, such men's cursed irra
tional boldness would go very near to bring all those
about them, by degrees, to question the very Deity
itself. (2.) The equally bold and insignificant terms which
some of the schoolmen have expressed this great article
by, who, pursuing their own phcenomena as undoubted
truths, speak as peremptorily of this profound mystery,
as if it were a thing obvious to the first apprehensions
of sense. It was a pious saying of an ancient writer,
Periculosum est de Deo etiam vera dicere. No won
der therefore, if these men, discoursing of the nature
of God, in a language neither warrantable nor appre
hensible, have by their modalities, suppositalities, cir-
cumincessions, and twenty such other chimeras, so mis
represented this adorable article to men's reason, as to
bring them first to loath and at length to deny it.
(3.) The imprudent building it upon some text of
scripture, which indeed will evince no such thing.
Such as those places Avhich I mentioned out of the Old
Testament ; and such, as one of the ancients once
brought for a proof of the eternal generation and Deity

Disc. IX.] BLESSED TRINITY. 215
of the Word, from that expression of David, in Psal.
xliv. Quisquamme dubitat de Divinitate Filii, cum
legerit illud Psalmistce, Cor meum eructavit verbum
bonumf Concerning which, and the like allegations,
I shall only make one very obvious, but as true, and
perhaps too true, a remark, that whatsoever is pro
duced and insisted upon in behalf of any great point of
religion, if it comes not close and home to the same, it
is always found much more effectual to expose the truth
it is brought for, than to support it, and to confirm the
heretic it is brought against, than to convince him.
2. And thus having shown some of the causes that
undermine men's belief of the article of the Trinity ;
I shall now assign some means also, to fix and continue
it in such minds as do already embrace it. And these
shall be briefly two.
(1.) To acquiesce in the bare revelation of the thing
itself, and in those expressions under which it is re
vealed. As for the thing itself, God has expressly said,
that there are three above the rank of created beings,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. And as for
the words in which he has conveyed this to us, they
are few and intelligible, and to be conveyed just as
they are proposed ; that is, simply, and in general, and
without entering too far into particulars.
(2.) To suppress all nice and over-curious inquiries
into the peculiar nature, reason, and manner of this
mystery. For God having not thought fit to reveal
this to us any farther than he has yet actually done,
sufficiently declares it to have been his intent, that it
should indeed be no farther known, nor indeed search
ed into by us ; and perhaps so far as it is yet unknown,
it may, to a created reason, be also unknowable. For
when we are once assured, that the thing itself is, to
amuse ourselves and others, with bold, perplexing ques
tions, (as they can be no better,) how and which way
it comes to be so, especially in matters relating to Al
mighty God, must needs be equally irreverent and im-

216 THE MYSTERY OF THE &C. [Disc. IX.
pertinent. Those words of an ancient commentator
upon St. John contain in them an excellent rule, and
always to be attended to, Firmam fidem mysterio ad-
hibentes, nunquam, in tam sublimibus, illud quomodo
aut cogitemus, aut proferamus. Which rule, had it
been well observed, both in this and some other arti
cles of our religion, not only the peace of particular
churches and consciences, but also the general peace
of Christendom, might in great measure have been hap
pily preserved by it.
Let this therefore be fixed upon, that there is no
obedience comparable to that of the understanding ; no
temperance, which so much commends the soul to
God, as that which shows itself in the restraint of our
curiosity. Besides which two important considera
tions, let us consider also, that an over-anxious scrutiny
into such mysteries is utterly useless, as to all purposes
of a rational inquiry. It wearies the mind, but not
informs the judgment. It makes us conceited and
fantastical in our notions, instead of being sober and
wise to salvation. It may provoke God also, by our
pressing too much into the secrets of heaven and the
concealed glories of his nature, to desert and give us
over to strange delusions. For they are only things
revealed, which belong to ihe sons of men to understand
and look into : But as for such high mysteries as the
Trinity, as the subsistence of one nature in three per
sons, and of three persons in one and the same indi
vidual nature, these are to be reckoned in the number
of such sacred and secret things, as belong to God
alone perfectly to know, but to such poor mortals as
we are, humbly to fall down before, and adore.

DISCOURSE X.*
PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION.

JUDGES xix. 30.
And it was so, that all that saw it, said, there was no
such deed done or seen, from the day that the Chil
dren of Israel came up out of the land of Egypt,
unto this day: consider of it, take advice, and
speak your minds.
The occasion of these words was a foul and detest
able fact, which had happened in one of the tribes of
Israel ; and the occasion of that fact was (as the text
not obscurely intimates) the want of kingly government
at that time. It being noted as a thing of particular re
mark, (Judges xxi. 25.) that this villany was committed,
when there was no king in Israel, and when, as a natu
ral consequent thereof, men resolved to live at large ;
every one, without check, doing what was right in his
own eyes, or (according to the more sanctified language
of our late times) as the Spirit moved him. Such a
liberty of conscience, it seems, had they then got, for
serving the devil after his and their own way.
As for the infamous actors in this tragical scene, we
have them boldly owning their shameless fact in open
f* Originally dedicated "To the illustrious, blessed, and never-dying
memory of Charles I., king of Great-Britain, &c. causelessly rebelled
against, unhumanly imprisoned, and at length barbarously murdered
before the gates of his own palace, by the worst of men, and the mosl
obliged of subjects."— Ed.]
28

218 pretence of conscience, [Disc. X.
field, avowing it with sword in hand, and for some
time defending the same with success against their
brethren, then the peculiar people of God, twice rout
ed and slaughtered before them in a righteous cause ;
a cause managed by all the rest of the tribes engaged
in it, and that not more with the proper arms of war
in one hand, than with a commission from God him
self in the other. In which, and the like respects, so
great a resemblance must needs be acknowledged be
tween this and the late civil war amongst ourselves,
that the proceedings of Forty-one, and the following
years, may well pass for the devil's works in a second
edition, or a foul and odious copy, much exceeding
the foulness of the original.
I profess not myself either skilled or delighted in
mystical interpretations of scripture ; nor am I for
forcing or wiredrawing the sense of the text, so as
to make it designedly foretell the king's death and
murder ; nor to make England, Scotland, and Ireland,
(as some enthusiasts have done,) the adequate scene
for the prophetic Spirit to declare future events upon ;
as if (forsooth) there could not be so much as a few
houses fired, a few ships taken, or any other calami
tous accident befall this little comer of the world, but
that some apocalyptic ignoramus or other must pre
sently find and pick it out of some abused, martyred
prophecy of Ezekiel, Daniel, or the Revelation. No,
I pretend not to any such illuminations. I am neither
prophet nor prophetic prelate, but account it enough
for my purpose, if I can bring my present business
and the text together, not by design, but accommo
dation ; and as the words themselves are very appo
site, so I doubt not but to find such a parallel in the
things expressed by them, that it may be a question,
whether the subject of the text, or of this mournful
day, may have a better claim to the expression.
The crime here set off with such high aggravations,
was an injury done to one single Levite, in the vii-

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 219
lanous rape of his concubine ; a surprising passage, I
confess, to us, who have lived in times enlightening
men to the utmost contempt of the ministry, as a
principal part (or rather, whole) of their religion :
Nevertheless we see how, even in those dark times
of the law, (as our late saints used to call them,) the
resentment of the wrong done to this poor Levite rose
so high, that it was looked upon as a sufficient ground
for a civil war, and accordingly made the concern of
all Israel, to revenge this quarrel upon the whole
tribe of Benjamin, for abetting the villany. This was
the unanimous judgment of the eleven tribes, and a
war was hereupon declared, in which the conduct was
by divine designation appointed to the royal tribe of
Judah ; the sceptre being judged by God himself most
concerned to assert the privileges of, and revenge the
injuries done, the crosier; the crown to support the
mitre ; and in a word, the sovereign authority to vindi
cate and abet the sacerdotal, as well as to be blessed
by it.
But now, to come to the counterpart of the story.
He who dates the murder of King Charles the First
from the fatal blow given upon the scaffold, judges
like him who thinks that it is only the last stroke
which fells the tree. No, the killing of his person
was but the consummation of the murder first begun
in his prerogative. And Pym, and some like him, did
as really give a stroke towards the cutting down this
royal oak, as Ireton or Cromwell himself. Few, I be
lieve, but have heard of that superfine, applauded
invention of theirs, of a double capacity in the king,
personal and politic. And, I suppose, the two noted
factions, which then carried all before them, distin
guished in him these two, that so to keep pace with
one another, each of them might destroy him under one.
For as for those,* whose post-dated loyalty now
consists only in decrying that action, which had been
* The Presbyterian faction.

220 pretence of conscience, [Disc. X.
taken out of their hands, by others more cunning,
though no less wicked than themselves, who, hav
ing laid the premises, afterwards ridiculously protest
against the conclusion, they do but cover their preva
rication with a fig-leaf, there being no more difference
between both parties, but only this, that the former
used all their art and industry, to give these infamous
contrivers of this murder the best colour and disguise
they could ; whereas their younger brother, the Inde
pendent, thought it the safest and surest way, to dis
guise only the executioner.
Well then, when a long sunshine of mercy had ri
pened the sins of the nation, so that it was now ready
for the shakings of divine vengeance, the seeds of fac
tion and rebellion having for a long time been studious
ly sowed by seditious libels, and well watered with
schismatical lectures ; the first assault was made against
the clergy, by a pack of inveterate enemies to the
church, the fury of whose lust and ambition nothing
could allay, but a full power and liberty (which they
quickly got) to seize her privileges, prostitute her hon
ours, and ravish her revenues ; till at length, being
thus mangled and broke in pieces, (as the Levite's con
cubine was before her,) she became a ghastly spectacle
to all beholders, to all the Israel of God.
Such therefore was then the woful condition of our
church and clergy, upon the Puritans' invasion of their
rights, at the breaking out of the late civil war. In
which (as we hinted before in the Levite's case) so
amongst ourselves also, the cause of our oppressed
church was owned, and sheltered by the royal stan
dard, and the defence of the ministry > (as most properly
it should be) managed by the defender of the faith.
But, alas ! the same angry providence still pursuing
the best of kings and causes with defeat after defeat,
the lion falling before the wolf, as Judah (the royal
tribe) sometimes did before Benjamin, the king him
self came to be in effect first unkinged, and all his roy-

Disc. X] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 221
alties tome from him, before the year 1645; and then
at last, to complete the whole tragedy in his person,
as well as office, Charles was murdered in 1648.
And this is the black subject and occasion of this
day's solemnity. In my reflections upon which, if a
just indignation, or indeed even a due apprehension of
the blackest fact which the sun ever saw, since he hid
his face upon the crucifixion of our Saviour, chance to
give an edge to some of my expressions, let all such
know, the guilt of whose actions has made the very
strictest truths look like satyrs, and bare descriptions
sharper than invectives ; I say, let such censurers
(Avhose innocence lies only in their indemnity) know,
that to drop the blackest ink and the bitterest gall up
on this fact, is not satyr, but propriety.
And noAV, since the text here represents the whole
matter set forth in it, in these most remarkable words ;
That there was no such deed done or seen, for many
ages before ; and with which words I shall clothe the
sad subject before us ; I conceive the most proper pro
secution thereof, as applied to this occasion, will be to
show wherein the unparalleled strangeness of this deed
consists. And for this, since the nature is not to be
accounted for, but from a due consideration of the
agent, the object, and all that retinue of circumstances,
which do attend, and specify it under a certain denom
ination, I shall accordingly distribute my discourse into
these materials. I shall consider,
I. The person that suffered. II. The preparation
and introduction to his suffering. III. The quality of
the agents who acted in it. IV. The circumstances
and manner of the fact. And V. The dismal and de
structive consequences of it. Of all which in their
order ; and
I. For the first of them ; the person suffering. He
was a king ; and what is more, such a king, not chosen,
but born to be so ; that is, not owing his kingdom to
the vogue of the populace, but to the suffrage of na-

222 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
ture. He was a David, a saint, a king, but never a
shepherd. Some of all the royal blood in Christendom
ran in his veins ; that is to say, many kings went to the
making of this one.
And his improvements and education fell no ways
below his extraction. He was accurate in all the re
commending excellencies of human accomplishments,
able to deserve, had he not inherited a kingdom ; of so
controlling a genius, that in every science he attempt
ed, he did not so much study, as reign, and appeared
not only a proficient, but a prince. And to go no
farther for a testimony ; let his own writings witness
so much, which speak him no less an author than a
monarch ; composed with such an unfailing accuracy,
such a commanding, majestic pathos, as if they had
been writ not with a pen, but with a sceptre. And
for those, whose virulent and ridiculous calumnies as
cribe that incomparable piece* to others, I say, it is
a sufficient argument that those did not write it, be
cause they could not write it. It is hard to coun
terfeit the spirit of majesty, and the unimitable pe
culiarities of an incommunicable genius and condition.
At the council-board he had the ability still to give
himself the best council, but the unhappy modesty to
diffide in it ; indeed his only fault ; for modesty is a
paradox in majesty, and humility a solecism in su
premacy. Look we next upon his piety and unparalleled vir
tues ; though without an absurdity, I may affirm, that
his very endowments of nature were supernatural. So
pious was he, that had others measured their obedi
ence to him by his obedience to God, he had been the
[ * The spuriousness of the Eikon Basilike, or, in other words, the
claim of Bishop Gauden to the composition of that work, seems now to
be allowed and put at rest ; so far, at least, as it is reasonable ever to ex
pect, on a point of literary history so remote. A condensed view of the
evidence on either side, may be seen in recent numbers of the Edin
burgh and London Quarterly Reviews. According to Rees, seventeen
editions of the Eikon Basilike were sold within a few months after its
appearance. — Ed.]

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 223
most absolute monarch in the world ; as eminent for
frequenting the temple, as Solomon for building one.
No occasions ever interfered with his devotions, nor
business of state ate out his times of attendance in the
church. So firm to the protestant cause, though he
conversed in the midst of temptation, in the very bosom
of Spain, and though France lay in his* yet nothing
could alter him, but that he espoused the cause of re
ligion, even more than his beloved queen.
He every way filled the title, under which we pray
ed for him. He could defend his religion as a king,
dispute for it as a divine, and die for it as a martyr.
I think I shall speak a great truth, if I say, that the
only thing that makes protestantism considerable in
Christendom, is the church of England ; and the great
thing that does now cement the church of England, is
the blood of this blessed saint.
He was so skilled in all controversies, that we may
well style him in all causes ecclesiastical, not only su
preme governor, but moderator, nor more fit to fill the
throne than the chair ; and withal so exact an observer,
and royal rewarder of all such performances, that it
was an encouragement to a man to be a divine under
such a prince.
Which eminent piety of his, was set off with the
whole train of moral virtues. His temperance was so
impregnable, amidst all those allurements with which
the courts of kings are apt to melt even the most sto
ical minds, that he did at the same time both teach
and upbraid the court ; so that it was not so much
their own vice, as his example, that rendered their de
bauchery unexcusable. Look over the whole list of our
kings, and take in the kings of Israel to boot, and who
ever kept the bond of conjugal affection so inviolate?
David was chiefly eminent for repenting in this matter ;
[*This alludes to the clandestine visit of Charles (then Prince) to
Spain, attended only by Buckingham, with the view of espousing the
Infanta of that kingdom ; and to his union, — that project being defeated —
with Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry the Fourth, of France. — Ed.]

224 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
Charles for not needing repentance. None ever of
greater fortitude of mind, which was more resplendent
in the conquest of himself, and in those miraculous in
stances of passive valour, than if he had strewed the
field with all the rebel armies, and to the justness of
his own cause joined the success of theirs ; and yet
withal so meek, so gentle, so merciful, and that even
to a cruelty to himself, that if ever the lion and the
lamb dwelt together, if ever courage and meekness
united, it was in the breast of this royal person.
And, which makes the rebellion more ugly and in
tolerable, there was scarce any person of note amongst
his enemies, who, even fighting against him, did not
wear his colours, (i. e.) carry some pecular mark of his
former favours and obligations. Some were his own
menial servants, and ate bread at his table, before they
lifted up their heel against him. Some received from
him honours, some offices and employments. I could
mention particulars of each kind, did I think their
names fit to be heard in a church, or from a pulpit. In
short, he so behaved himself towards them, that their
rebellion might be malice indeed, but it could not be
revenge. And these his personal virtues shed a suitable influ
ence upon his government. For the space of seven
teen years, the peace, plenty, and honour of the Eng
lish, spread itself even to the envy of all neighbour
nations. And when that plenty had pampered them
into such an unruliness, and rebellion as soon followed
it, yet still the justness of his government left them at a
loss for an occasion ; till at length ship-money was
pitched upon, as fit to be reformed into excise and tax
es, and the burden of the subject to be took off by
plunders and sequestrations.
The king, now, to scatter that cloud, which began
to gather and look black, both upon church and state,
made those condescensions to their impudent petitions,
that they had scarce any thing to make war for, but

Disc X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 225
what was granted them already ; and having thus
stript himself of his prerogative, he made it clear to
the world, that there was nothing left them to fight for,
but only his life. Afterwards, in the prosecution of
this unnatural war, what overtures did he make for
peace ? Nay, when he had his sword in his hand, his
armies about him, and a cause to justify him before
God and man, how did he choose to compound him
self into nothing, to depose and unking himself, by
their unconscionable, unhuman conditions ? But all
was nothing ; he might as well compliment a mastiff,
or court a tyger, as think to win those, who were now
hardened in blood, and thorough-paced in rebellion.
The truth is, his conscience uncrowned him, as having
a mind too pure and defecate, to admit of those max
ims of state, that usually make princes great and suc
cessful. Having thus with a new, unheard-of sort of loyalty
fought against and conquered him, they commit him to
prison ; and then the king himself notes, that it has
been always observed, that there is but little distance
from the prisons of kings to their graves. To which I
farther subjoin, that where the observation is constant,
there must needs be some certain standing cause of
the connexion of the things observed. And indeed, it
is a direct transition from the prison to the grave, a
carceribus ad metam, the difference between them be
ing only this ; that he who is buried, is imprisoned un
der ground, and he who is imprisoned, is buried above
it. And I could wish, that as they thus slew and
buried his body, so we had not also buried his fune
ral. But to finish this poor, imperfect description, though
it is of a person so renowned, that he neither needs the
best, nor can be injured by the worst; yet, in short,
he was a prince, whose virtues were as prodigious as
his sufferings, a true pater patrice, a father of his country,
29

226 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
if but for this only, that he was the father of such a
son* And yet this, the most innocent of men and the best
of kings, so pious, learned, and judicious, so merciful
and obliging, was rebelled against, driven out of his
own house, pursued like a partridge upon the moun
tains, and like an exile in his own dominions, unhu-
manly imprisoned, and at length for a catastrophe of
all, barbarously murdered ; though in this, his murder
was the less of the two, in that his death released him
from his prison.
II. Having thus seen the quality and condition of
the person who suffered ; let us, in the next place, see
the engines and preparations, by which they gradually
ascended to the perpetration of this bloody fact. And
indeed, it would be but a poor, preposterous discourse,
to insist only upon the consequent, without taking no
tice of the antecedent.
It were too long to dig to the spring of this. rebellion,
and to lead you to the secrecies of its first contrivance.
But as David's phrase is upon another occasion, it was
framed and fashioned in the lowest parts of the earth,
and there it was fearfully and wonderfully made a
work of darkness and retirement, removed from the
eye of all witnesses, even that of conscience also ; for
conscience was not admitted to their councils.
But the first design was to procure a Levite to con
secrate their idol, that is to say, a factious ministry, to
christen it the cause of God. They still owned their
party for God's true Israel ; and being so, it must needs
be their duty to come out of Egypt, though they pro
vided themselves a Red Sea for their passage.
And then for their assistance they repair to the
[* If, for such adulation as this — of which there are even grosser
specimens — offered in the very presence of such a sovereign, the reader
is at a loss to find any apology, the writer himself may possibly furnish
it. He was under the influence of what he supposes a part of the royal
prerogative, and which he has elsewhere described. See some para
graphs from a sermon on " the Protection of Kings, the peculiar care of
Providence," (Selections, the latter part of this volume.) — Ed.]

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 227
Northern Steele ;* and bring in an unnatural, mercenary
army, which like a shoal of locusts covered the land ;
such, as inherited the character of those, whom God
brought as scourges upon his people the Jews. For
still we shall read that God punished his people with
an army from the North. Jer. 1. 3. Out of the North
there cometh up a nation which shall make her land
desolate. Jer. iv. 6. / will bring evil from the North,
and a great destruction.
Now, to endear and unite these into one interest,
they invented a covenant, much like those who are
said to have made a covenant with hell, and an agree
ment with death. It was the most solemn piece of
perjury, the most fatal engine against the church, and
bane of monarchy, the greatest snare of souls and mys
tery of iniquity, that ever was hammered by the wit
and wickedness of man. I shall not, as they do, abuse
scripture language, and call it the blood of the covenant,
but give it its proper title ; it was the covenant of blood.
Such an one as the brethren, Simeon and Levi, made,
when they were going about the like design. Their
very posture of taking it was an ominous mark of its
intent, and their holding up their hands was a sign that
ihey were ready to strike.
It was such an oglio of treason and tyranny, that
onef of their assembly, of their own prophets, gives
this testimony of it, in his narrative upon it, and his
testimony is true ; that it was such a covenant, whether
you respect the subject matter, or occasion of it, or the
persons that engaged in it, or lastly, the manner of im
posing it, that was never read, nor heard of, nor the
world ever saw the like. The truth is, it bears no other
likeness to ancient covenants, but that as at the making
of them they slew beasts and divided them ; so this
* This is no reflexion upon the Scotch nation, nor intended for such,
there having been persons as eminent for their loyalty, piety, and virtue,
of that country, as of any other : But it reflects upon that Scotch faction,
which invaded England with an army in assistance of the rebels, and
together with them made a shift to destroy the monarchy and the church
in both kingdoms.
t Mr. Philip Nye.

228 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
also was solemnized with blood, slaughter, and divi
sion. But that I may not accuse in general, without a par
ticular charge, read it over as it stands before their
synod's works, I mean their catechism ; to which it is
prefixed, as if, without it, their system of divinity were
not complete, nor their children like to be well in
structed, unless they were schooled to treason, and
catechised to rebellion. I say, in the covenant, as it
stands there, in the third article of it. After they had
first promised to defend the privileges of parliament,
and the liberties of the kingdoms, at length they pro
mise also a defence of the king ; but only thus, that
they will defend his person, in the preservation of the
true religion and liberties of the kingdoms. In which
it is evident, that their promise of loyalty to him is
but conditional ; bound hand and foot with this limita
tion, so far as he preserved the true religion and
liberties of the kingdoms.
. From which I observe these two things.
1. That those who promise obedience to their king,
only so far as he preserves the true religion and the
kingdom's liberties ; withal reserving to themselves
the judgment of what religion is true, what false, and
when these liberties are invaded, when not ; do by this
put it within their power, to judge religion false, and
liberty invaded, as they think convenient, and then,
upon such judgment, to absolve themselves from their
allegiance. 2. That those very persons, who thus covenant, had
already, from pulpit and press, declared the religion
and worship established in the church of England, and
then maintained by the king, to be popish and idola
trous ; and withal that the king had actually invaded
their liberties. Now, for men to suspend their obedi
ence upon a certain condition, which condition at the
same time they declared not performed, was not to
profess obedience, but to remonstrate the reasons of
their intended disobedience.

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 229
And for a farther demonstration of what has been
said, read the speech of that worthy knight,* at his
execution upon Tower-Hill, on the 14th of June last ;
where he says, that what the House of Commons did
in their acting singly, and by themselves, (which was
no less than trying and murdering the king, proscribing
his son, and voting down monarchy, with much more,
which he there says, lay yet in the breast of the House,)
was but" a more refined pursuit of the designs of ihe
covenant. For the testimony of which person, in this
matter, I have thus much to say ; that he who, having
been sent commissioner from hence into Scotland, was
the first contriver of the covenant there, was surely of
all others the most likely to know the true meaning of
it ; and being ready to die, was most likely then, if
ever, to speak sincerely what he knew.
We see here the doctrine of the covenant ; see the
use of this doctrine, as it was charged home with a
suitable application in a war raised against the king, in
the cruel usage and imprisonment, killing, sequestering,
undoing all who adhered to him, voting no addresses
to himselj; all which horrid proceedings, though his ma
jesty now stupendously forgives, yet the world will not,
cannot ever forget ; for his indemnity is not our oblivion.
And therefore for those persons, who noAV clamour,
that they are persecuted, because they are no longer
permitted to persecute ; and who choose rather to quit
their ministry than to disown the obligation of the cov
enant ; I leave it to all impartial minds to judge, whe
ther they do not by this declare to the world, that they
hold themselves obliged by oath, as they shall be able,
to act over again all that has been hitherto acted by vir
tue of that covenant ; and consequently, that they re
linquish their places, not for being non-conformists to
the church, but for being virtually rebels to the crown.
Which makes them just as worthy to be indulged, as
for a man to indulge a dropsy or a malignant ftver,
which is exasperated by mitigations, and inflamed by
every cooling infusion.
* Sir Henry Vane.

230 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
But to draw the premises closer to the purpose.
Thus I argue. That which was the proper means,
that enabled the king's mortal enemies to make a war
against him, and upon that war to conquer, and upon
that conquest to imprison him, and lastly, upon that im
prisonment inevitably put the power into the hands of
those, who by that power in the end murdered him ;
that according to the genuine consequences of reason,
was the natural cause of his murder. This is the propo
sition that I assert, and I shall not trouble myself to
make the assumption.
And indeed, those who wipe their mouths and lick
themselves innocent, by clapping this act upon the
army, make just the same plea that Pilate did for his
innocence in the death of Christ, because he left the
execution to the soldiers ; or that the soldiers them
selves may make, for clearing themselves of all the
blood that they have spilt, by charging it upon their
swords. I conclude, therefore, that this was the gradual pro
cess to this horrid fact ; this the train laid, to blow up
monarchy ; this the step by which the king ascended
the scaffold.
III. Come we now to show, who were the actors in
this tragical scene : When through the anger of Provi
dence, a thriving army of rebels had worsted justice,
cleared the field, subdued all opposition and risings,
even to the very insurrections of conscience itself; so
that impunity grew at length into the reputation of pi
ety, and success gave rebellion the varnish of religion ;
that they might consummate their villany, the gown
was called in to complete the execution of the sword ;
and to make Westminster- Hall a place for taking away
lives, as well as estates, a new court was set up, and
judges packed, who had nothing to do with justice, but
so far as they were fit to be the objects of it. In which,
they first of all begin with a confutation of the civil
ian's notion of justice and jurisdiction, it being with

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 231
them no longer an act of the supreme power, as it was
ever before defined to be. Such an inferior crew, such
a mechanic rabble were they, having not so much as
any arms to show the world, but what they used in
the rebellion ; that when I survey the list of the king's
judges, and the witnesses against him, I seem to have
before me a catalogue of all trades, and such as might
better have filled the shops in Westminster- Hall, than
sat upon the benches. Some of which came to be pos
sessors of the king's houses, who before had no certain
dwelling but the king's highway. And some might
have continued tradesmen still, had not want, and ina
bility to trade, sent them to a quicker and surer way of
traffic, the wars.
Now, that a king, that such a king, should be mur
dered by such, the basest of his subjects ; and not like
a Nimrod, (as some sanctified railing preachers have
called him,) but like an Actceon, be torn by a pack of
blood-hounds ; that the steam of a dunghill should thus
obscure the sun ; this so much enhances the calamity
of this royal person, and makes his death as different
from his, who is slain by another king, as it is between
being torn by a lion, and being eaten up with vermin.
An expression too proper, (I am sure,) as coarse as it
is ; for where we are speaking of beggars, nothing can
be more natural than to think of vermin too.
For, that the feet should trample upon, nay kick off
the head, who would not look upon it as a monster ?
But indeed of all others, these were the fittest instru
ments for such a work ; for base descent, and poor edu
cation, disposes the mind to imperiousness and cruelty ;
as the most savage beasts are bred in dens, and have
their extraction from under ground. These therefore
were the worthy judges of a great king, even the refuse
of the people, and the very scum of the nation ; that
is, at that time both the uppermost, and the basest
part of it.
IV. Pass we now to the circumstances of proce-

232 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
dure, in the management of this ugly fact. And cir
cumstances, we know, have the greatest cast in de
termining the nature of all actions, (as we commonly
judge of any man's port and quality, by the nature
of his attendants.)
First of all then ; it was not done, like other works
of darkness, in secret, nor (as they used to preach)
in a corner, but publicly, coloured Avith the face of
justice, managed Avith openness and solemnity, as
solemn as the league and covenant itself. History
indeed affords us many examples of princes, who have
been clandestinely murdered, which, though it be vil-
lanous, yet is in itself more excusable ; for he who
does such a thing in secret, by the very manner of
his doing it, confesses himself ashamed of the thing
he does : But he who acts it in the face of the sun,
vouches his action for laudable and heroic.
Having thus brought him to their high court of jus
tice ; so called, I conceive, because justice was there
arraigned and condemned ; or perhaps, therefore call
ed a court of justice, because it never showed any
mercy, whether the cause needed it or no. There,
by a way of trial as unheard-of as their court, they
permit him not so much as to speak in his own de
fence, but with the innocence and silence of a lamb,
condemn him to the slaughter. And it had been well
for them, if they could as easily have imposed silence
upon his blood as upon himself.
Being condemned, they spit in his face, and de
liver him to the affronts of soldiers. So that I won
der where the blasphemy lies, which some charge
upon those, who make the king's sufferings something
to resemble our Saviour's. But, is it blasphemy to
compare the king to Christ in that respect, in which
Christ himself was made like him ? Or can he be
like us in all things, and we not like him ? Certainly
there was something in that Providence, which so
long ago appointed the chapter of our Saviour's pas-

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 233
sion, to be read on the day of the king's. And, I am
sure, the resemblance is so near, that had he lived be
fore him, he might have been a type of him. I con
fess there is some disparity in the case ; for they shew
themselves worse than Jews. But however,, since they
make this their objection, that we make the king like
Christ, I am willing it should be the greatest of their
commendation, to be accounted as unlike Christ, as
they meritoriously are.
Let us now follow him from their mock tribunal, to
the place of his residence till execution. Nothing re
mains to a person condemned, and presently to leave
the world, but these two things. 1. To take leave
of his friends, a thing not denied to the vilest malefac
tors ; which sufficiently appears, in that it has not been
denied to themselves. Yet no intreaties from him, or
his royal consort, could prevail with the murderers, to
let her take the last farewell and commands of a dying
husband ; he was permitted to make no farewell, but to
the world. Thus was he treated, and stript of all,
even from the prerogative of a prince, to the privilege
of a malefactor. 2. The next thing desired by all
dying persons, is freedom to converse with God, and to
prepare themselves to meet him at his great tribunal.
But with an Italian cruelty to the soul, as well as the
body, they debar him of this freedom also ; and even
solitude, his former punishment, is now too great an
enjoyment. But that they might show themselves no
less enemies to private, than they had been to public
prayer, they disturb his retirements, and with scoffs
upbraid those devotions, which were then even inter
ceding for them. And, I question not, but fanatic fury
was then at that height, that they would have even
laughed at Christ himself in his devotions, had he but
used his own prayer.
With these preludiums is he brought to the last
scene of mockery and cruelty, to a stage erected before
his own palace ; and for the greater affront of majesty,
30

234 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
before that part of it in which he was wont to display
his royalty, and to give audience to embassadors, where
now he could not obtain audience himself, in his last
addresses to his abused subjects. There he receives
the fatal blow ; there he dies, conquering and pardoning
his enemies ; and at length finds that faithfully per
formed upon the scaffold, which was at first so fre
quently and solemnly promised him in the parliament,
and perhaps in the same sense, that he should be made
a glorious king.
But even this death was the mercy of murderers,
considering what kinds of death several proposed, when
they sat in consultation about the manner of it. Even
no less than the gibbet and the halter, no less than to
execute him in his robes, and afterwards drive a stake
through his head and body, to stand as a monument
upon his grave. In short, all those kinds of death were
proposed, which either their malice could suggest, or
their own guilt deserve.
And could these men now find in their hearts, or
have the face, to desire to live f and to plead a pardon
from the son, who had thus murdered the father ? I
speak not only of those wretches, who openly imbrued
their hands in the bloody sentence, but of those more
considerable traitors, who had the villany to manage
the contrivance, and yet the cunning to disappear in
the execution, and perhaps the good luck to be prefer
red after it, and (for aught I know) for it too. And
as for those who now survive, by a mercy as incredible
as their crime, which has left them to the soft expia
tions of solitude and repentance (with plenty too at
tending both) ; though usually all the professions such
make of repentance, are nothing else but the faint re
sentments of a guilty horror, ihe last breathings of a
gasping conscience ; and as the mercy by which they
live is made a visible defiance to government, and a
standing encouragement to these daily alarms of plots
and conspiracies, so I beseech God, that even their

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 235
supposed repentance be not such, that both themselves
and the kingdom may hereafter have bitter cause too
late to repent of it. But if they should indeed prove
such as have no conscience but horror ; who by the
same crimes Avill be made irreconcilable, for which
they deserved to be impardonable ; who would resume
those repentings upon opportunity, which they made
on extremity, and being saved from the gallows, make
the usual requital, which is made for that kind of de
liverance ; 1 say, if such persons should be only for a
time chained up, like so many lions or wolves in the
tower, that they may gather more fierceness, to run
out at length upon majesty, religion, laws, churches,
and the universities ; whether God intends by this a
repetition of our former confusions, or a general mas
sacre of our persons (which is the most likely) ; the
Lord in mercy fit us to endure the smart of a misim-
proved Providence, and the infatuate frustration of
such a miraculous deliverance.
But to return to this sacred martyr. We have seen
him murdered. And is there now any other scene for
cruelty to act ? Is not death the end of the murder
er's malice, as well as of the life of him who is mur
dered f No ; there is another and a viler instance of
their sordid, implacable cruelty.
In the very embalming his body, and taking out
those bowels, (which, had they not relented to his ene
mies, had not been so handled,) they gave order to
those, to whom that work was committed, diligently
to search and see, (I speak it with horror and indigna
tion) whether his body were not infected with some
loathsome disease* I suppose they meant that, which
some of his judges were so much troubled with, and
stuck so close to them.
Now every one must easily see, that for them to in
timate the inquiry, was in effect to enjoin the report.
And here, let any one judge, whether the remorseless
* Gregory Clement knew what the disease was.

236 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
malice of imbittered rebels ever rose to such a height
of tyranny, that the very embalming of his body must
needs be a means to corrupt his name ; as if his mur
der was not complete, unless, together with his life,
they did also assassinate his fame.
But the body of that prince, innocent and virtuous
to a miracle, had none of the ruins and gentile rotten
ness of our modern debauchery. It was firm and clear
like his conscience ; he fell like a cedar, no less fra
grant, than tall and stately. Rottenness of heart and
of bones are the badges of some of his murderers,* the
noisomeness of ivhose carcasses, caused by the noisome-
ness of their lives, might even retaliate their suffer
ings, and while they are under execution, poison the
executioner. But the last grand, comprehensive circumstance of this
fact, which is, as it were, the very form and spirit which
did run through all the rest, is, that it was done with the
Pretences of Conscience, and the protestations of re
ligion ; with eyes lift up to heaven, and expostulations
with God, pleas of Providence, and inward instiga
tions ; till at length with much labour and many, groans,
they were delivered of their conceived mischief.
And certainly we have cause to deplore this murder
with fasting, if it were but for this reason, that it was
contrived and committed with fasting. Every fast por
tended some villany, as still a famine ushers in a
plague. But as hunger serves only for appetite, so
they never ordained an humiliation, but for the doing
of something, which being done, might dine them at a
thanksgiving. And such a fury did absurd piety in
spire into this church-militant upon these exercises,
that we might as well meet an hungry bear, as a
preaching colonel after a fast ; whose murderous hu
miliations strangely verified that apposite prophecy,
(Isaiah viii. 21.) When they shall be hungry, ihey shall
curse their king, and their God, and look upwards :
* Clement, Peters, &c.

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 237
that is, they should rebel and blaspheme devoutly.
Though by the way, he who is always looking up
wards, can little regard how he walks below.
But was there, any thing in the whole book of God
to warrant this rebellion ? Any thing which, instead
of obedience, taught them to sacrifice him, whom they
were to obey ? Why, yes : Daniel dreamed a dream,
and there is also something in the Revelation, concern
ing a beast, a little horn, and the fifth vial, and there
fore the king undoubtedly ought to die. But if neither
you nor I can gather so much, or any thing like it,
from these places, they will tell us, it is because we
are not inwardly enlightened.
But others more knowing, though not less wicked,
insist not so much upon the warrant of scripture, but
plead providential dispensations : And then God's
works, it seems, must be regarded before his words.
And the Latin advocate,* who, like a blind adder, has
spit so much poison upon the king's person and cause,
speaks to the matter roundly. Deum sicuti ducem, #•
impressa passim divina vestigia venerantes, viam haud
obscuram, sed illustrem, #• illius auspiciis commonstra-
tam, #• patefactam ingressi sumus. But must we read
God's mind in his footsteps, or in his word? This is,
as if, when we have a man's hand-writing, we should
endeavour to take his meaning by the measure of his
foot. But still, Conscience, Conscience is pleaded as a
covering for all enormities, an answer to all questions
and accusations. Ask, what made them fight against,
imprison, and murder, their lawful sovereign ? Why,
Conscience. What made them extirpate the govern
ment, and pocket the revenue of the church ? Con
science. What made them perjure themselves with
contrary oaths ? what makes swearing a sin, and yet
forswearing to be none ? what made them lay hold on
* Mr. John Milton ; In Prsefat, ad Defensionem pro populo Anglicano,
{as his Latin is.)

238 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [DlSC X.
God's promises, and break their own ? Conscience.
What made them sequester, persecute, and undo their
brethren, rape their estates, ruin their families, get in
to their places ; and then say, they only robbed the
Egyptians? Why, still this large capacious thing,
their Conscience ; which is always of a much larger
compass than their understanding. In a word, we
have lived under such a model of religion, as has count
ed nothing impious but loyalty, nothing absurd but
restitution. But, O blessed God, to what an height can prosper-
o"s, audacious impiety arise ! Was it not enough, that
men once crucified Christ; but that there should be a
generation of men Avho should also crucify Christianity
itself? Must he, who taught no defence but patience,
alloAved no armour but submission, and never warrant
ed any man to shed any other blood but his own, be
now again mocked Avith soldiers, and vouched the
patron of all those hideous murders and rebellions, which
an ordinary impiety would stand amazed at the hear
ing of ? and which in this world he has so plainly con
demned by his word, and will' hereafter as severely
sentence in his own person ? Certainly, these mon
sters are not only the spots of Christianity, but so
many standing exceptions from humanity and nature :
And since most of them are Anabaptists, it is pity
that in repeating their baptism, they did not baptize
themselves into another religion.
V. For the last place, let us view the horridness of
the fact in the fatal consequences which did attend it.
Every great villany is like a great absurdity, drawing
after it a numerous train of homogenous consequences ;
and none ever spread itself into more than this. But I
shall endeavour to reduce them all to these two sorts.
First, Such as were of a civil. Second, Such as
were of a religious concern.
And First, for the civil, political consequences of it.
There immediately followed a change of govern-

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 239
ment, of a government, whose praise had been pro
claimed for many centuries, and enrolled in the large,
fair characters of the subjects' enjoyment and experi
ence. It was now shred into a democracy ; and the
stream of government being cut into many channels,
ran thin and shallow : Whereupon the subject having
many masters, every servant had so many distinct ser
vitudes. But the wheel of Providence, which only they look
ed upon, and that even to a giddiness, did not stop
here ; but by a fatal, ridiculous vicissitude, both the
power and wickedness of those many, was again re
volved and compacted into one : From that one* again
it returned to many, with several attending variations,
till at length we pitched upon one again ;\ one beyond
whom they could not go, the ne plus ultra of all regal
excellency, as all change tends to, and at last ceases
upon its acquired perfection.
Nor was the government only, but also the glory of
the English nation changed ; distinction of orders con
founded, the gentry out-braved, and the nobility, who
voted the bishops out of their dignities in parliament,
by the just judgment of God, thrust out themselves,
and brought under the scorn and imperious lash of a
beggar on horseback ; learning discountenanced, and the
universities threatened, their revenues to be sold, their
colleges to be demolished ; the law to be reformed after
the same model ; the records of the nation to be burnt. \
Such an inundation of ruin, reformation, and confusion,
had spread itself upon the whole land, that it seemed a
kind of resemblance of Noah's deluge, in which only
a few men survived amongst many.beasts.
Second, The other sort of consequences were of a
religious concernment. I speak not of the contempt,
rebuke, and discouragement, lying upon the divines, or
rather the preachers^ of those days ; for they brought
* Cromwell. f King Charles II.
\ All this was sir Henry Vane's villanous and monstrous advice.
§ Presbyterians and Independents,

240 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
these miseries upon themselves, and had more cause a
great deal to curse their own seditious sermons, than
to curse Meroz. They sounded the first trumpet to
rebellion, and like true saints had the grace to perse
vere in what they first began ; courting and recogniz
ing an usurper, calling themselves his loyal and obedi
ent subjects* never enduring so much as to think of
their lawful sovereign, till at length the danger of
tythes, their unum necessarium, scared them back to
their allegiance.
I speak not therefore of these. But the great de
structive consequence of this fact was, that it has left
a lasting slur upon the protestant religion. Tell it
not in Gath, publish it not in Askelon, lest the daugh
ters of the Philistines triumph, lest the papacy laugh
us to scorn ; as, if they had no other sort of protestants
to deal with, I am sure they well might.
I confess, the seditious writings of some, who called
themselves protestants, have sufficiently bespattered
their religion. See Calvin warranting the three estates
to oppose their prince, 4 Instit. ch. 20. sec. 31. See
Master Knox's Appeal, and in that his arguments for
resisting the civil magistrate. Read Mr. Buchanan's
Discourse de jure Regni apud Scotus. Read the Vin-
dicice contra Tyrannos, under the name of Junius Bru
tus, writ by Ottoman the Civilian. See Parens upon
the thirteenth chapter of the epistle to the Romans,
where he states atrocem aliquam injuriam, a large
term, and of very easy application, to be a sufficient
reason for subjects to take up arms against their king ;
a book, instead of the author, most deservedly burnt by
the hangman. But shall we call this a comment upon
the chapter ? It is rather a comment upon the cove
nant. Both of Avhich, as they teach the same doctrine,
so they deserved, and justly had, the same confutation^
* Baxter in his book dedicated to Richard Cromwell did so.
f Burnt by the common hangman in Oxon, by command of King
James the First.

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 241
But these principles, like sleeping lions, lay still a
great while, and were never completely actuate, nor
appeared in the field, till the French holy league, and
the English rebellion.
Let the powder-plot be as bad as it will or can, yet
still there is as much difference between the king's mur
der and that, as there is between an action and an at
tempt. What the papal bulls and anathemas could not do,
factious sermons have brought about. What was then
contrived against the parliament-house, has been since
done by it. What the papists' powder intended, the sol
diers' match has effected. I say, let the powder-treason
be looked upon (as indeed it is) as the product of hell, as
black as the souls and principles that hatched it ; yet still
this reformation-murder will preponderate ; and Janua
ry, in villany, always have the precedency of November.
And thus, I have traced this accursed fact, through
all the parts and ingredients of it. And now, if we
reflect upon the quality of the person upon whom it
Avas done, the condition of the persons who did it, the
means, circumstances, and manner of its transaction ;
I suppose it will fill the measure, and reach the height
of the words of the text : That there was no such deed
done, nor seen, since the day that the Children of Israel
came up out of the land of Egypt, to this day.
For my oAvn part, my apprehension of it over-bears
my expression, and how to set it off, I know not ; for
black receives no other colour. But, when I call to
gether all the ideas of horror, rake all the records of
the Roman, Grecian, and barbarian wonders, together
with new-fancied instances, and unheard-of possibili
ties, yet I find no parallel ; and therefore have this
only to say of the king's murder, that it is a thing,
than which nothing can be imagined more strange,
amazing, and astonishing, except its pardon*
* This was far from being intended as a reflexion upon the act of
indemnity itself, and much less upon the royal author of it, but only as a
rhetorical attempt, for expressing the transcendent height of one thing,
by an equally transcendent height of another ; viz. by that of the mercy
pardoning, and by that of the crime pardoned; both of them in their
several kinds superlative. 31

242 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
And now, having done with the first part of the
text, does it not naturally engage me in the duty of the
second ? Must such a deed, as was neither seen
nor heard of, be also neither spoken of ? Or must it be
stroked with smooth, mollifying expressions ? Is this
the way to cure the wound, by pouring oil upon those
that made it ? And must Absalom be therefore dealt
with gently, because he was an unnatural and a sturdy
rebel ?
If, as the text bids, we consider of the fact, and take
advice, (that is, advise with reason and conscience,)
we cannot but obey it in the following words, and
speak our minds. For could Croesus's dumb son speak
at the very attempt of a murder upon his prince and
father ? and shall a preacher be dumb, when such a
murder is actually committed ?
Or do we think it enough to make doleful harangues
against murder and cruelty, and concerning the pre
rogative of kings, Avithout ripping up the particular,
mysterious, diabolical arts of its first contrivance. Can
things unheard-of be treated with the toothless gene
ralities of a common-place ?
I will not be so uncharitable, as to charge a consent
in this particular, wheresoever I find a silence : I will
only conclude such to be wiser than others, and to
wait for another turn ; and from their behaviour ra
tionally collect their expectation. But whosoever is so
sage, so prudential, or (to speak more significantly) so
much a polilicus, as to fit himself for every change, he
will find, that if ever another turn befalls the nation,
it will be the wrong side outwards, the lowest upper
most. And therefore, for these silent candidates of
future preferment, I wish them no other punishment
for the treason of their desire, than to be preferred
under another change.
But I have not yet finished my text, nor according
to the command of it, spoke all my mind. I have one
thing more to propose, and with that to conclude.
Would you be willing to see this scene acted over

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 243
again ? to see that restless, plotting humour, which
now ferments in many traitorous breasts, once more
display itself, in the dismal effects of war and desola
tion ? Would you see the rascality of the nation, in
troops and tumults beleager the royal palace ? Would
you hear ministers absolving their congregations from
their sacred oaths of allegiance, and sending them into
the field to lose their lives and their souls, in a pro
fessed rebellion against their sovereign ? Would you
see an insolent over-turning army, in the heart and
bowels of the kingdom, moving to and fro, to the ter
ror of every thing which is noble, generous, or re
ligious ? Would you see the loyal gentry harassed,
starved, and undone, by the oppression of base, in
sulting, grinding committees ? Would you see the cler
gy torn in pieces, and sacrificed by the inquisition
of synods, tryers, and commissioners ?
And to mention the greatest, last ; would you have
the king, with his father's kingdoms, inherit also his
fortune ? Would you see the crown trampled upon,
majesty haled from prison to prison ; and at length
with the vilest circumstances of spite and cruelty,
bleeding at the feet of bloody, unhuman miscreants ?
Would you, now Providence has cast out the destruc
tive interest from the Parliament, and the House is
pretty well swept and cleansed, have the old unclean
spirit return, and take to itself seven spirits, seven
other interests worse than itself, and dwell there, and
so make our latter end worse than our beginning ?
We hpar of plots and combinations, parties joining
and agreeing ; and let us not trust too much in their
opposition amongst themselves. The elements can
fight, and yet unite into one body. Ephraim against
Manasseh, and Manasseh agrinst Ephraim ; but both
equally against the royal tribe of Judah. Now if we
dread these furies again being let loose upon us, oh !
let us fear the return of our former^ provocations. If
we would keep off the axe from our princes and no
bles, let us lay it to our sins. If we would preserve

244 PRETENCE OF CONSCIENCE, [Disc. X.
their lives, let us amend our own. We have com
plained of armies, committees, sequestrators, tryers,
and decimators. But our sins, our sins, are those that
have sucked the blood of this nation ; these have
purpled the scaffold with the royal gore ; these have
plowed up so many noble families, made so many
widows, and snatched the bread out of the mouths
of so many poor orphans. It is our not fearing God,
that has made others not to honour the king; our
not benefitting by the ordinances of the church, that
has enriched others Avith her spoils.
And now, since I have slid into a mention of the
church of England, which at this time is so much
struck at, and in danger (like its first Head) to be
crucified between two thieves; I shall say thus much
of it ; that it is the only church in Christendom we
read of, whose avowed principles and practices dis
own all resistance of the civil power ; and which the
saddest experience, and the truest policy and reason
will evince to be the only one, that is durably con
sistent with the English monarchy. Let men look
both into its doctrine and into its history, and they
will find neither the Calvins, the Knoxes, the Junius
Brutuses, the synods, nor the holy commonwealths of
the one side, nor yet the Bellarmines, the Escobars,
nor the Marianas of the other. It has no fault but
its revenues ; and those too but the remainders of a
potent, surfeited sacrilege. And therefore, if God in
his anger to this kingdom should suffer it to be run
down, either by the impious nonsense and idolatry of
one party, or the sordid tyranny and fanaticism of the
other ; yet we will acquiesce in this, that if ever our
church falls, it falls neither tainted with the infamy
of popish plots, nor of reforming rebellions; and that
it was neither her pretended corruption or supersti
tion, but her own lands, and the kingdom's sins, that
destroyed her.
For when I hear of seditious designs, covenants,
and plots, they do not much move or affright me. But

Disc. X.] NO EXCUSE FOR REBELLION. 245
when I see the same covetousness, the same drunk
enness and profaneness, that was first punished in our
selves, and then in our sanctified enemies; when I see
joy turned into a revel, and debauchery proclaim itself
louder than it can be proclaimed against ; these, I
must confess, stagger and astonish me ; and I cannot
persuade myself, that we were delivered to do all these
abominations. But if we have not the grace of Christians, have we
not the hearts of men ? Have we no bowels, no re-
lentings ? If the blood and banishment of our kings
cannot move us, if the miseries of our common mother,
the church, ready to fall back into the jaws of pur
chasers and reformers, cannot work upon us, yet shall
we not at least pity our posterity? Shall we commit
sins, and breed up children to inherit the curse ? Shall
the infants now unborn have cause to say hereafter in
the bitterness of their souls, Our fathers have eaten
the sour grapes of disobedience, and our teeth are set on
edge by rebellions and confusions ?
How does any man know, but the very oath he is
SAvearing, the lewdness he is committing, may be
scored up by God as one item for a new rebellion ?
We may be rebels, and yet neither vote in parliaments,
sit in committees, or fight in armies. Every sin is vir
tually a treason ; and we may be guilty of murder by
breaking other commandments besides the sixth.
But at present we are made whole : God has by a
miracle healed the breaches, cured the maladies, and
bound up the wounds of a bleeding nation : What re
mains now, but that we take the counsel, that seconded
a like miraculous cure : Go, sin no more, lest a worse
evil come unto thee ? But since our evil has been so
superlative as not to acknowledge a worse ; since our
calamities having reached the highest, give us rather
cause to fear a repetition, than any possibility of grada
tion ; I shall dismiss you with the like, though something
altered advice, Go, sin no more, lest the same evil befall
you.

DISCOURSE XL

THE DISGUISES OF SATAN.

2 COR. xi. 14.
And no marvel ; for Satan himself is transformed into
an angel of light.
He who has arrived to that pitch of infidelity, as to
deny that there is a devil, gives a shrewd proof, that
he is deluded by him ; and so by this very denial does
unawares infer the thing, he would deny. There have
indeed been some in all ages and religions, who have
promoted the devil's interests, by arguing against his
being. For that, which men generally most desire, is
to go on in sin without control ; and it cannot be more
their desire, than the devil accounts it his interest, that
they should do so. But when they are told withal,
that he who tempts to sin now, is to execute God's
wrath for our sin hereafter ; the belief of a spirit, ap
pointed to so terrible an office, standing so directly
between them and their sins, they can never proceed
smoothly in them, till such a belief be first taken out
of the way ; and therefore, no wonder if men argue
against the thing they hate ; and for the freer enjoy
ment of their lusts, do all they can to throw off a per
suasion, which does but torment them before their time :
This undoubtedly being the true, if not only ground of
all the disputes men raise against demons, or evil spi
rits ; that their guilt has made it their concern, that
there should be none.

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 247
Nevertheless, on the other side, it must be consider
ed, that the proving of spirits and immaterial sub
stances, from the common discourses of the world upon
this subject, has not hitherto proved so successful as
might be wished. For that there are such finite, in
corporeal beings, as we call spirits, I take to be a point
of that moment, that the belief of it ought to be estab
lished upon much surer proofs, than such as are com
monly taken from visions and apparitions, and the
reports which use to go of them ; it having never hi
therto been held for solid reasoning, to argue from what
seems, to what exists ; or, in other words, from appear
ances to things ; especially since it has been found so
frequent, for the working of a strong fancy and a weak
judgment, to pass with many for apparitions. Nor yet
can I think the same sufficiently proved, from several
strange effects, which, (as historians tell us,) having
sometimes happened in the world, and carrying in them
the marks of a rational efficiency, (but manifestly
above all human power,) have therefore by some been
ascribed to spirits, as the proper, immediate causes
thereof. For such a conclusion, I conceive, cannot be
certainly drawn from thence, unless we were able to
comprehend the full activity of all corporeal substances,
especially the celestial ; so as to assign the utmost
term which their activity can reach to ; which, I sup
pose, no sober reasoner, or true philosopher, will pre
tend to.
And therefore, in the present case, allowing the fore-
mentioned common arguments all the advantage of
probability they can justly lay claim to ; yet if we
would have a certain proof of the existence of finite
spirits, good or bad, we ought, no doubt, to fetch it
from the infallible Avord of revelation ; and so employ
faith to piece up the defects of science ; which, as
nothing but faith can do, so that man must by no
means pretend to faith, who will not sell his assent
under a demonstration ; nor indeed to so much as pru-

248 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI
dence, who will be convinced by nothing but experi
ence, when perhaps the experiment may prove his de
struction. He who believes that there is a devil, puts
himself into the ready way to escape him. But as for
those modern Sadducees, who will believe neither an
gel nor spirit, because they cannot see them, and with
whom invisible and incredible pass for terms equipol
lent ; they would do wisely to consider, that as the
fowler would certainly spoil his own game, should he
not, as much as possible, keep out of sight ; so the
devil never plants his snares so skilfully and success
fully, as Avhen he conceals his person ; nor tempts so
dangerously, as when he can persuade men that there
is no tempter.
But I fear I have argued too far upon this point al
ready ; since it may seem something inartificial for the
sermon to prove, what the text had supposed. But
since the infidelity of the present age has made the
proof of that necessary, which former ages took for
granted ; I hope the usefulness of the subject will atone
for what may seem less regular in the prosecution. It
must therefore be allowed, (and that not only from the
foregoing probable arguments, but much more from an
infallible and divine testimony,) that there is a devil, a
Satan, and a tempter. And we have him here pre
sented to us, under such a strange kind of mask or
vizard, that we cannot see him for light; and then
surely he must needs walk undiscovered, who can make
that, which discovers all things else, his disguise. But
the wonder ought to abate, if we consider, that there is
a light, which dazzles and deludes, as well as one which
informs and directs ; and that it is the former of these,
which Satan clothes himself with, as with a garment. A
light so far resembling that of the stars, that it still rules
by night, and has always darkness both for its occasion
and companion. The badge of truth is unity, and the
property of falsehood, variety ; and accordingly the de
vil appears all things, as he has occasion ; the priest,

Disc. XL] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 249
the casuist, the reformer, the reconciler, and, in a word,
any thing but himself. He can change his voice, his
dress, and the whole scene of his fallacies ; and by a
dexterous management of the fraud, present you with
an Esau under the form of a Jacob ; for the old ser
pent can shift his skin, as often as he has a turn to
serve by his doing so. For it is a short and easy tran
sition from darkness to light ; even as near as the con
fines of night and day. So that this active spirit can
quickly pass from one to the other, and equally carry
on a work of darkness in both. We read of a demo-
nium meridianum, though the sun, we know, is then
highest, and the light greatest. The Psalmist tells us,
not only of a pestilence which walks in darkness, but
also of a destruction which wasteth at noon-day ; and
consequently that he who is the great manager both of
the one and the other, is as much a devil, when he
shines as Lucifer, as when he destroys as Satan.
Now the devil, I conceive, is represented to us thus
transformed in the text ; not so much in respect of
what he is in his person, as in his practice upon men ;
for none ever conceals himself, but he has a design up
on another. And therefore to prosecute the sense of
the- words, by as full a representation of his frauds, as
I am able to give, I shall discourse of him in this me
thod. I shall endeavour to show,
I. The way of his operation upon the soul, in con
veying his fallacies into the minds of men. II. The
grand instances in which he has played an angel of
light, in the several ages of the church successively.
III. And give caution against some principles, by which
he is like to repeat the same cheat upon the world, if
not prevented in time to come.
I. And first, for the influence he has upon the soul.
To lay open here all the ways whereby this spiritual
engineer works upon us, to trace the serpent in all his
windings, is a thing, I believe, as much above a mere
human understanding, as that is below an angelical ;
32

250 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
but so far as the duct ure of common reason, scripture,
and experience, will direct our inquiries, we shall find
that there are three ways, by which he poAverfully
reaches, and operates upon the minds of men. As,
1. By moving, stirring, and sometimes altering the
humours and dispositions of the body. That the soul
in all its operations is strangely affected by, and held
down to the particular crasis and constitution of the
corporeal part, is indubitable. And that the devil can
model and frame the temperament of it to his own pur
pose, the woman Avhom Satan is said to have bound
for so many years, is a convincing instance. Now this
expert anatomist, who has examined and looked into
all the secret recesses, caverns, and little fibres both
of body and soul, (as I may so express the matter,)
knows that there is no grace, but has its counterfeit
in some passion ; and no passion of the mind, but
moves upon the wheel of some humour of the body.
So that it is easy for him to refine, and, as it were,
sanctify the fire and fury of a choleric humour into
zeal, and raise the operations of melancholy to the
semblance of a mortified demureness and humiliation.
On which case of supposed sorrow for sin, but real
disturbance from some other cause, it is not to be
questioned, but many repair to the divine, whose best
casuist were an apothecary ; and endeavour to cure and
carry off their despair, with a promise, or perhaps a
prophecy, which might be better done with a purge.
Poor self-deluding souls ! often misapplying the blood
of Christ under these circumstances, in which a little
effusion of their own would more effectually work the
cure ; and Luke as physician, give them a much spee
dier relief, than Luke as an evangelist.
2. The devil can act upon the soul, by suggesting
the ideas, and spiritual pictures of things (as they may
be not unfitly called) to the imagination. For this is
the grand repository of all the ideas and representations
which the mind of man can work either upon or by.

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 251
So that Satan, our skilful artist, can as easily slide his
injections into the fancy, as present a deluding image
to the eye. From whence it is, that poor deluded
women (followers of conventicles, or rather of such as
meet them there) talk much of sudden joys and rap
tures, and secret whispers of the Spirit, with a great
deal more of such cant ; in all which this grand impos
tor is still at his old work, and whether he speaks in
the gentle, charming voice of a comforter, or roars in
the terrible thunders of damnation, is, and ever was,- a
liar from the beginning, and will be so to the end.
Again, some perhaps have had a text, of something a
peculiar significancy, cast into their fancy ; as for in
stance (in Jerem.) Cursed be he that keepeth back his
sword from shedding blood ; whereupon they present
ly thought themselves commissioned, by an extraor
dinary call from heaven, to cut and slay all such as
fought for the crown and the church, in the late in
famous rebellion. Likewise it is very credible, that
the same spirit can in discourse suggest smart sen
tences and strictures of wit, far surpassing the inven
tion of the speaker ; for otherwise, whence can it be
that persons known to be deplorably dull in other
things, can yet be witty upon a subject obscene, or
profane ? And no doubt, what the papists ridiculously
said of Luther, may with great truth be said of many
leading heretics, that the devil furnished them with
arguments. For where the cause is his, he will never
be wanting to give it an helping hand, but will be still
with the heretic in his study, guiding his pen, and as
sisting his invention with many a lucky turn of thought,
and sophistical reasoning. So that upon the whole
matter, the devil himself may, perhaps, more properly
pass for the heretic ; and Arius or Socinus only for the
amanuensis. For he is able to present images of
words and sentences to the imagination, in as clear
and perspicuous an order, as the most faithful and me
thodical memory. And why should the common word

252 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI.
be, that the devil stands at the lyar's elbow, if he were
not to be his prompter ? But
3. The devil can work upon the soul, by an actual
ingress into, and personal possession of the man, so as
to move and act him ; and like a kind of vicarious soul,
use his body, and the several faculties and members
thereof, as instruments of the several operations which
he exerts by them. Upon which account, persons so
possessed were heretofore called nvsv(iaxo(p6goi, and
ivegyovfiivoi. And if any one here should doubt, that
a spirit can impel a body, since without quantity and
dimensions on both sides there can be no contact ; and
since without contact some think all impulsions impos
sible, this maxim, if too far insisted upon, would bear
as hard upon the soul itself, as to its moving the body,
(allowing it to be a spiritual, immaterial substance,
which, I hope, in a christian auditory, needs not to be
proved.) And now, the premises thus supposed, how
easy must it be for this spirit to cast any person pos
sessed by him into a kind of prophetic ecstacy, and,
with other amazing extravagancies, to utter through
him certain sentences and opinions, and in the utter
ance thereof, to intermix some things good, to take off
the suspicion, and qualify the poison of the bad ? For
so the sibyls used to wait, till at a certain time the
demons entered into them, and gave answers by them,
suspending the natural actings of their souls, and using
their bodily organs of speech, with strange, prodigious
convulsions, and certain circumstances of raving and
unseemly horror attending them ; as Virgil elegantly
describes the Cumcean sibyl, in his 6th A^neid.
— Subitb non vultus, non color unus,
Non comptce mansere comce, sed pectus anhelum,
Et rabie fera cor da lument ; majbrq ; videri,
Nee mortale sonans, &c.
Of Avhich words, the Quakers amongst us (as little
as they deal in Latin) have yet been the best and ful
lest interpreters, by being the liveliest instances of the

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 253
thing described in them, of any that I know. And so
likewise in the case of the'person possessed, (Acts xix.
16.) Certainly he could never have prevailed over so
many men, had he not had something in him, stronger
than man. But what needs there any farther arguing,
or how is it possible for that man to question, whether
the devil can enter into, and take possession of men,
who shall read how often our Saviour cast him out ?
These, I say, are the physical ways of operation,
which the devil can employ so, as to insinuate thereby
his impostures, in a clever, unsuspected manner ; which
three general ways doubtless may be improved, by so
experienced a craftsmen, into myriads of particulars.
But I shall confine myself to his dealings with the
church, and that only within the times of Christianity ;
and so pass
II. To show the grand instances, in which the devil,
under this mask of light, has imposed upon the chris
tian world. And here we must premise this general
observation, as the basis of all the ensuing particulars ;
viz. that it has been the devil's constant method to ac
commodate his impostures to the most received and
prevailing notions, and the peculiar proper improve
ments of each particular age. And accordingly, let us
take a survey of the several periods of them. As,
1. The grand ruling principle of the first ages of the
church, then chiefly consisting of the gentile converts,
was an extraordinary zeal and concern for the worship
of one only God, having been so newly converted from
the worship of many. Which great truth, since the
devil could neither seasonably nor successfully oppose
then, he saw it his interest to swim with the stream,
which he could not stem, and by a dexterous turn of
hand, to make use of one truth to supplant another.
Accordingly, having met with a fit instrument for his
purpose, he sets up in Arianism, and with a bold stroke
strikes at no lower an article than the Godhead of the
Son of God ; and so manages this universal hatred of

254 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
polytheism to the rejection of a trinity of divine co
equal persons, as no ways consistent with the unity of
the divine essence. The blasphemy of which opinion
needed, no doubt, a more than ordinary artist, to give
it the best gloss he could, and therefore was not to be
ushered into the world, but by very plausible and seem
ingly pious pleas.
As for, instance ; that the ascribing of a divine na
ture to Christ, was not so much a removal of polythe
ism, as a change. That for Christ to decry the pagan
gods, and yet assume the Godhead to himself, was,
instead of being their reformer, to be their rival; and
that by thus transferring divine worship to his own
person, he did not so much destroy idolatry, as monopo
lize it. Moreover, that Christ himself professes his
Father to be greater than he ; and therefore, that either
he himself is not God, or if so, that the Deity then in
cludes not the highest degree of perfection. And if it
should be here replied, that the Father is greater in
respect of a personal excellency, but not of a natural;
such as reply so, should do well to consider, how it
can be, that where essence includes all perfection,
personality can add any farther. Besides, that the
granting Christ to be the Son of God will not therefore
infer him to be God. For the son of a king is but his
father's subject ; and consequently, to assert any more
concerning Christ, seems to be only paganism refined,
and idolatry in a better dress.
These, I say, were the Arian objections against the
Deity of our Saviour ; all of them extremely sophisti
cal and slight, and such as the heathen philosophers
had urged all along against the christian religion, for
near three hundred years before Arius was born : And
we shall find them grounded only upon their not dis
tinguishing between perfection absolute and relative,
and their absurd arguing fxom finite and created beings
to a Being infinite and uncreate ; as might easily be
shown in each of the foregoing particulars, would the

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 255
time permit. So that it was a true remark ; that if
we take from heretics disputing against any article of
the christian faith, what is common to them with the
he aliens disputing against the whole body of Christian
ity, they will have little or nothing left them, which is
peculiarly their own. Nevertheless, such plausible
stuff, backed with power, and managed by the devil,
drew over most of the christian churches, for a consid
erable time, to Arianism; and so, by a very prepos
terous Avay of worship, made them sacrifice the Son to
the honour of the Father. But
2. As the Arian ages had chiefly set themselves to
run doAvn our Saviour's divinity; so the following ages,
by an dfisxgia xijs dvdokxrjs, a kind of contrary stretch,
were no less intent upon paying an exorbitant devotion
to every thing belonging to his humanity ; and in a ve
ry particular manner, to those who had eminently done
and suffered for his person and religion. And this was
the course all along taken by the papal heresy, from
the very first that it got footing in the church ; touch
ing which, let none think it strange, that I make an
immediate step from the times of Arianism to those of
Popery, (as if there ought to be a greater interval put
between them.) For though it must be confessed,
that Arianism received its mortal wound by the first
council of Nice, pretty early in the fourth century ; yet
these following heresies of Macedonianism, Nestorian-
ism, Eutychianism, Monotheletism, &c. (which, as dif
ferent as they were amongst themselves, were yet, in
truth, but so many shoots out of the old Arian stock,)
continued longer, and reached considerably beyond the
sixth century ; about the end whereof, Popery began
to show itself by degrees : (Gregory the Great, who
lived till the year of our Lord 604, being, not without
cause, reckoned the last of the good popes of Rome,
and theirs* of the bad;) so that in truth there was no
vacancy of time, between the Arian poison ceasing,
and the popish ferment beginning to infest the church.

256 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI.
Well then, the Deity of Christ having been thus irre-
fragably proved, and Arianism, with its appendent here
sies, at length drawing off the stage, and another pre
dominant principle coming on ; it was now time for
the grand deceiver to change his hand, being to Avork
upon quite different materials, as well as with quite
different instruments ; and so to turn that vast honour,
which the world bore to Christ's human nature, to the
depraving and undermining of Christianity itself. For
from hence men came to give that inordinate venera
tion to the sacrament of Christ's body and blood ; and
for the defence thereof invented that monster of ab
surdities, transubstantiation. After which, with great
industry, they got together and kept all reliques, which
any way represented his memory, as pieces of the
cross, and pictures of his body, till at length they even
adored them ; and, to justify their so doing, they cast
their practice into a doctrine, that the crucifix was to be
adored with relative divine worship ; more than which
(by the way) the heathens themselves never gave to
their idols ; but worshipped them only so far as they
were significations of those effects and benefits for
which they adored the Deity, the great original of
them. But this superstition stopped not here, but ex
tended itself likewise to Christ's friends and followers,
the saints ; those especially, who, as I noted before,
had sealed their profession with their blood. The
memory of whom they celebrated with solemn invoca
tions of them at their sepulchres, making offerings to
them, falling prostrate at the very mention of their
names ; till at length this reverential respect grew into
down-right adoration. And thus by degrees paganism
came to be christened into a new name, by their set
ting up their divi, or begodded tutelar saintSj and pro
secuting their apotheosis with divine worship. And
lest in this they might seem to entrench upon the
honour of Christ, by treating his saints and servants
upon equal terms with himself, they made their very

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. "257
zeal for his honour, a plea for their making these saints
their intercessors with him ; alleging (forsooth) their
own unworthiness to approach him by a direct address,
without such a mediation ; as subjects do then most
acceptably petition their earthly prince, when their
suits are handed to him by some beloved favourite : a
shrewd argument, no doubt, if God and man proceed
ed by the same methods. But to go on : Since religion
would be but a very lame institution, should not points
of faith be seconded with suitable rules of practice ;
hereupon mortification and austerity of life Avere (in
show at least) equally advanced, and Satan began to
play the white devil, by prohibiting, upon pretence of
higher sacerdotal purity, the marriage of the clergy,
(though at the same time reckoned by themselves a
sacrament,) forbidding also certain sorts of meat, and
enjoining others ; as likewise imposing hair-shirts,
whips, scourges, with many more such corporal severi
ties ; for the recommending of all which to men's use,
they taught them, that these practices were satisfactory
for sin, and meritorious of heaven. And lest this
might seem to derogate from Christ's satisfaction, (as
it certainly did,) they distinguished sins into mortal
and venial. And whereas they held, that these venial
sins could not deserve eternal death, and withal, that
many men die before they have completed their re
pentance ; for them they invented a certain place in
the other world, for the temporal, penal expiation of
such sins ; to wit, purgatory. And since the pains of
this were not to be eternal, but that a deliverance and
redemption of the souls held therein might be procured ;
and that by the merit of the good works of others, to
help out those who had none of their own ; they came
from hence to assert works of supererogation (as they
called them.) Which good works, and the merit of
them, not being always actually employed for the bene
fit of any, (and as if the world abounded more with
good works than bad,) they are said to be reserved in
33

258 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
the treasury of the church, to be disposed of (as there
should be occasion) to such as were able and willing
to ransom their suffering friends with silver and gold,
(the very best of metals, and always held by them a
valuable price for souls,) and this produced indulgences ;
the most useful part of the whole Romish religion.
By all which particulars put together, you may see
the curious concatenation of the several mysteries and
intrigues of popery ; and how artificially one is linked
to the other, in this chain of darkness made to hold
poor souls to the judgment of the great day ; and (if
God be not so merciful, as to save them in spite of
their religion) to condemn them in it too. And now
these tenets being advantaged by the suitableness of
them to man's natural disposition, (which in matters of
belief is too prone to credulity and superstition, and in
matters of practice, to an arrogant opinion of merit ;
every man being too apt to think that a good action
obliges God, and satisfies for an ill one :) these tenets,
I say, were upon these terms easily imbibed by the
vulgar, in those times of ignorance ; which ignorance
also was carefully kept up, by maintaining the suf
ficiency of an implicit faith, and securing the scrip
tures under the double lock, of an unknown language,
and a bad translation. Besides all which, that they
might not in the last place want a strong hold to de
fend them, in case this terrible book of the Scriptures
should come to be unsealed, and let loose upon them,
they had two other refuges to fly too ; to wit, that of un
written traditions, without which they held the scrip
tures imperfect ; and of an infallible judge, without
which they affirmed them to be obscure : two qualifi
cations which must unavoidably render the scriptures
an incompetent rule of faith. And thus the nail is
driven home, and riveted too ; and upon their being
hereby made judges in their own cause, they do, and
must stand incorrigible; forasmuch as all conviction
upon these terms is utterly impossible. And thus we

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 259
have seen what a lofty Babel has been raised by this
grand architect of mischief and confusion, the devil :
a Babel, with the top of it reaching to heaven, and the
foundation of it laid in hell. And we have seen like
wise the materials with which, and the arts by which,
this stupendous structure was reared : and since neither
old nor new Babel was built in a day ; we have given
some account also, how this master-builder has all
along suited his tools to the proper genius and condi
tion of each several age ; sometimes working in the
light, and sometimes in the dark ; sometimes above
ground, and sometimes under it ; but in all, like a
Romish priest, still under a disguise.
And here, I think, it may be farther worth our con
sidering, that since the aspects and influences in
heaven (which are some of the chief instruments,
whereby providence governs this lower world) must
needs work considerably upon the humours, and con
stitutions of men, under their several positions ; it can
not but follow, that the same must work very power
fully about the affairs of religion also, so far as the
tempers of men are apt to strike in with them. And
accordingly, as I have observed that Satan played his
papal game, chiefly in the times of ignorance, and
sowed his tares while the world was asleep; cum
Augustinus haberetur inexpugnabilis dialecticus,
quod legisset categorias Aristotelis. Cum qui
Greece sciret, suspectus ; qui autem Hebraice, plane
magicus putaretur. When the words Imreticum de-
vita, were looked upon as sufficient to warrant the
taking away the life of an heretic ; so on the other
side, when this mist of ignorance began to clear up,
and polite learning to get footing again in the world,
by the great abilities and industry. of Erasmus, Me-
lancthon, Politian, Budceus, Calvin, and several
others, men generally then began to smell out the
cheat ; and after a long growing suspicion of the im
posture they had been held under, came at length to a

260 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
resolution quite to throw it off. But then again, lest
so sudden and mighty a stream of light, breaking in
upon the prince of darkness, might wholly over-bear all
his projects, he also began wisely to light up his candle
too in the new society of Ignatius Loyola ; a sect
composed of the best wits and ablest heads, that could
be got, to list themselves to serve the pope under him.
And by this course he quickly brought his myrmidons,
to fight the Protestants at their own weapons, and for
parts and literature to vie with the reformation. For
he saw well enough, that it was learning, which must
do his business, when ignorance was grown out of
fashion ; and that, when such multitudes were re
solved to have their eyes open, it was time for him to
look about him too. Accordingly, Satan, who loves
to compass his ends, and amuse the world by contrary
methods, (like the evil spirit in the gospel, sometimes
casting the person possessed by him into the fire, and
sometimes into the water) having, as we have noted,
long imposed upon Christendom by Popery; and at
length finding a new light sprung in upon a great part
of it, and mightily chasing away that darkness before
it, he thought it his interest to trump up a new scene
of things, and so correspondently to the two main
parts of religion, speculative and practisal, he fell upon
two contrary but equally destructive extremes, Socin-
ianism and Enthusiasm : thus, like a subtle disputant,
casting his argument into such a dilemma, as should be
sure to gain him his point, and gall his enemy one way
or other.
And, 1. For the First extreme, Socinianism. Faus
tus Socinus seems to have been a person so qualified
by providence with a competent stock of parts and
measure of reason, (for the man was no miracle, either in
divinity or philosophy) to shew, how wofully such an one
(being left to himself) might blunder, and fall short of
the right notions of religion, even in the plainest and
most important points of it. He was indeed so bred,

DlSC. XL] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 261
and principled by his uncle Lelius, that Satan thought'
him a fit instrument, for the advancement of the light
of reason, above that of revelation, by making (as he
notoriously did) the former the sole judge of the latter.
Socinus' s main design (or pretence at least) was to
bring all the mysteries of Christianity to a full accom
modation with the notions of man's reason ; and so far
the design was, no doubt, laudible enough, had it kept
within the bounds of a sober prosecution. For that
which is contrary to reason, cannot be true in religion ;
nor can God contradict that in the book of his revealed
word, which he has writ before in the book of nature :
so much, I say, is certain, and cannot be denied.
Nevertheless, a little reason will prove also, that many
things may seem contrary to reason, which yet really
are not so ; and where this seeming contrariety is, the
question will be, whether revelation ought to controul
reason, or reason prescribe to revelation ; which in
deed is the very hinge upon which the whole Socinian
controversy turns.
But to proceed, and show, that even Socinianism
itself by a kind of Antiperistasis, took its rise from
Popery, as the accidental cause of it, it is to be ob
served, that those nice, bold, and unjustifiable notions,
which many of the schoolmen had advanced concern
ing the divine essence, (things which the mind of man
can form to itself no express idea, nor consequently
any clear knowledge of,) caused in Socinus such an high
loathing of that whole scheme of christian theology,
which then obtained in the world, that breaking through
all, he utterly denied the divine nature of the Son, and
of the Holy Ghost ; and so exploded the whole, doctrine
of the Trinity, as no part of the christian religion : fre
quently alleging also, that the urging the necessity of
believing notions so contrary (as he pretended) to the
maxims of natural reason, mightily scandalized and
kept off the Jews, Turks, and rational infidels, from
embracing Christianity. And this consideration he
laid no small stress upon.

262 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI
But in answer to it : By his favour, the contrariety
of the notions here excepted against to natural reason,
(as confidently as it has been all along supposed by
him,) was never yet proved ; and as for the offence
taken at it by Jews and Turks, he might have remem
bered, that the doctrines preached by St. Paul himself
found no better acceptance ; as being to the Jews a
stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness ; but
neither by him who preached it, nor by those who re
ceived it, at all the less valued for its being so. And
certainly the christian church would make but an ill
bargain, to barter away any one article of her faith, to
gain either Turk ox Jew : and I shrewdly guess, that
the Jews themselves understood bargaining too well,
to part with their Moses for a Socinian Christ. But
farther, as touching this heresy ; the time when it was
vented in the world, is no less observable than the
instruments by whom : Satan suiting the work he had
to do, to the peculiar qualification of the age, which
he was to do it in. For as the schoolmen, who were
the greatest promoters of the papal interest, sacrificing
both reason and religion to the support of it, were in
the highest vogue for some ages before ; so the age,
wherein it began to decline, had entertained a general
contempt of that sort of learning, as may appear out
of Sir Thomas More's defence of Erasmus, and other
criticks against Dorpius, a great patron and admirer of
school-divinity. And as for Socinus himself, the Po-
lonian, who wrote his life, testifies, ilium Scholasticam
Theologiam nunquam attigisse. Thus therefore was
he qualified (it seems) to baffle the learned part of the
world ; and having made his first adventure in denying
Christ's divinity, and bringing it much lower than ever
Arius did, the denial of his satisfaction unavoidably
followed ; no mere creature being able, in a strict
sense, to merit of God, and much less to satisfy for
sin. So that we see here, how Satan, under the
plausible plea of reason, introduced a doctrine into the

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 263
world, which has shook every article of our faith ; and
in the full compass of it, grasps in the most considera
ble heresies that ever were ; especially those two top
ping ones, of Photinianism and Pelagianism. And
whosoever shall, by impartial logick, spin it out to its
utmost consequences, shall find, that it tends to, and
inevitably ends in, the destruction of all religion ; and
that where Socinianism has laid the premises, atheism
cannot be kept out of the conclusion. But now, that
even reason itself is but pretended only, and not really
shown in the doctrines of Socinus, give me leave to
demonstrate in one or two instances, instead of many
more, that might be assigned.
(1.) That this doctrine asserts Christ to be a mere
creature, and yet ascribes to him divine worship, and
that both as to adoration and invocation ; and this up
on indispensable necessity* So that whereas Socinus
says, that the Jews and Turks axe so scandalized at
our asserting Christ's Deity, I am sure, that by a bet
ter grounded aversion, they are more scandalized at
idolatry. And if Socinus will advance this proposition,
that Jesus Christ is not by nature God, let Jews, Turks,
and all infidels of common sense alone to make the
assumption ; that then he is not to be worshipped with
divine worship. Christianus Francken shamefully baf
fled Socinus upon this head. And it is impossible for
him, or any of his tribe, to maintain it. But,
(2.) This doctrine asserts also, that God cannot cer
tainly foreknow future contingents ; as Socinus posi
tively concludes in the eleventh chapter of his Prelec
tions; where, in answering, or rather eluding such
scriptures, as declare the contrary, he all along with a
bold impiety degrades the divine knowledge into mere
* See Socinus in his catechism, discoursing of those, who allow not of
the adoration and invocation of Christ. Quid censes de iis, qui ista
Christo non tribuunt ? To which he answers : Censeo illos non esse
Christianos ; quippe qui revera Christum non habeant ; et Jesum esse
Christum licet fortasse aperti verbis non audeant, re tamen ipsa omnino
negent. And elsewhere ; Prcestat trinUarium esse, quam asserere Chris
tum non esse adorandum.

264 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
conjecture, and no more ; and so ranges the all-know
ing God with the heathen oracles, soothsayers, and
astrologers, not allowing him any pre-eminence above
them, but only a better faculty at guessing than they
had : Which, amongst all other wretched consequences,
must needs render God such a governor of the world,
as, in those many important affairs of it, depending up
on the free motions of man's will, shall not be able to
tell certainly, what shall come to pass in it, so much
as one day before it actually happens. He may in
deed (as I showed before) shrewdly guess at events,
(and so may a wise man too,) but farther than guess
ing he cannot go. All which are such monstrous asser
tions, and so scandalously contumelious to the divine
nature and attributes, and yet so inevitably resulting
from the position first laid down by him, that nothing
can equal the profaneness of them, but the absurdities.
As for several others of the Socinian errors ; to wit,
about the nature of the sacraments, the divine cove
nants, the ministry, and the church, with sundry other
parts of divinity, I purposely omit them ; and mention
only these two, as being in themselves not grosser er
rors in divinity, than inconsistencies in philosophy. So
that upon this turn at least, we may worthily use that
remark of Grotius, in his book concerning the satisfac
tion of Christ ; Mirum esse, toties a Socino ostentari
rectam rationem, ostendi nusquam.
********
And thus much for the first extreme hnentioned ; by
Avhich Satan has poisoned the principles and theoretic
part of religion ; though the poison will be found of
that spreading malignity, as to influence the practic
too. And so we come to
2. The Second extreme mentioned ; under which, as
an angel of light, he more directly strikes at the practice
of religion ; and that is Enthusiasm : a thing not more
detestable in its effects, than plausible in its occasion.
For men being enraged at the magisterial imposing

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 265
of traditions upon them, as a rule of faith equal to the
written word; and being commanded withal, to submit
their reason to the cheat of an infallible interpreter,
they too naturally struck off to his extreme, to slight
the judgment of all antiquity, and to adhere only to
the bare letter of the scripture ; and then both to se
cure and authorize their errors, they made their own
reason, or rather humour, (first surnaming it the Spirit,)
the infallible, unappealing judge of all that was deliver
ed in the written word. And now, upon these terms,
what could keep a man so disposed from coming over
to Socinianism ; since fhe prime engine made use of
by Socinus himself, for the venting of all his abomina
tions, was a professed defiance of the judgment of all
antiquity, in matters of religion ? And what likewise
could hinder a man (if his temper inclined that way)
from taking up in Anabaptism, when he could neither
find any clear precept for infant-baptism, nor express
instance of it in the scripture ; but only probable in
ferences from thence, and remote consequences ; all of
them perhaps too little, without the universal tradition
of the church, to found the necessity and perpetuity of
such a practice upon ? Especially having been encoun
tered by such specious objections, as have been too
often produced against it. And thus we see, how both
the two forementioned extremes commence upon one
and the same principle ; to wit, the laying aside ihe
judgment of antiquity, both in matters of faith, and in
all expositions of scripture ; but Socinianism being (as
was observed) an heresy much too fine for the gross
and thick genius of vulgar capacities, the devil found
it requisite sometimes to change his engine, and
amongst such as these, to set up his standard in Fa-
milism or Enthusiasm : a monster, from whose teem
ing womb have issued some of the vilest, the foulest,
and most absurd practices and opinions, that the na
ture of man (as corrupt as it is) was ever poisoned and
polluted with. For these enthusiasts, having first
34

266 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
brought all to the naked letter of scripture, and
then confined that letter wholly to the exposition of
the Spirit, (as they called it,) they proceed farther,
and advance this mystery of iniquity to its highest
dxfirj, by asserting the immediate indwelling of the
Spirit in their persons ; so that by his impulse they
may, like Abraham, Phinehas, or Ehud, be carri
ed out to actions in other men, indeed unlawful, but
in themselves sufficiently warranted by the Spirit's
dispensing with his own laws in their behalf, and much
more with the laws of men ; besides that, according
to the same doctrine, he only, who has this Spirit, can
be a competent judge of what is suggested to him by
it ; a principle of that diabolical malignity, that it sets
men beyond all reach of the magistrate, and frets asun
der the very nerves of all government and society. For
it owns an impulse lawful, and yet unaccountable ;
whereby they are empowered to shake off laws, invade
the rights and properties of all, and, if they please, to
judge, sentence, and put to death, kings; because the
spiritual man (forsooth) judgeth all things, but him
self is judged of none. And these were the persons
who would needs set up for the new lights of this last
age ; blazing comets always portending, or rather
causing wars and confusions both in church and state ;
first setting all on fire, and then shining by the flames
they raised. But light (as we have seen) being so of
ten made the devil's livery, no wonder if his servants
affect to be seen in it.
And now, after this short view of Popery and Enthu
siasm, I hope I shall not incur the suspicion of any
bias to the former, if (as bad as it is) I prefer it to the
latter, and allow it the poor commendation of being
the less evil of the two. I confess, that, under both,
the great enemy of truth strikes at our church and
state ; and that whether he acts by the fanatic illumi-
nati, ox by Vaux's lanthorn, the mischief projected by
him is the same ; there being in both a light (and

Disc. XL] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 267
something else) within, for the blowing up of churches.
and kingdoms too. Nevertheless, if we consider and
compare these two extremes together, we shall find
enthusiasm the more untractable and pernicious of the
two, and that in a double respect.
1. That the evils of Popery are really the same in
Enthusiasm. And 2. That the little good which is in
Popery, is not in this.
And 1. That the evils of both are equal, may appear
upon these two accounts.
(1.) That the enthusiasts challenge the same infalli
bility, which the papal church does, but are more in
tolerable in their claim ; for popery places it only in
one person, the pope ; but enthusiasm claims it, as
belonging to every Christian amongst them.
So that upon a full estimate of the matter, the pa
pacy is only enthusiasm contracted, and enthusiasm
the papacy diffused ; the evil is the same in both, with
the advantage of multiplication in the latter. But
(2.) Both of them equally take men off from the
scriptures, and supplant their authority. For as one
does it by traditions, making them equal to the written
word ; so the other does it by pretending the immedi
ate guidance of the Spirit, without the rule of the said
word. For see, Avith what contempt the father of the
Familists, Henry Nicholas, casts off the use and au
thority of it. See also the Quakers, (who may pass
for the very elixir, the ultimum quod sit, and hitherto
the highest form of enthusiasts amongst us.) See, I
say, how they recur only to the light within them ;
a broad hint to men of sense and experience, how
they intend to dispose of the scriptures, when the
angel of this light within them shall think fit to screw
them up to an higher dispensation ; for then, no doubt,
they will judge it convenient, to bury this dead letter
out of their sight. But
2. That the little good which is in Popery, is not in
Enthusiasm, will appear upon these grounds.

268 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
(1.) Upon a political account. The design of the
popish religion is, in the several parts and circum
stances of it, to reach and accommodate itself, as much
as possible, to all the humours of men : And I know
no argument, like this universal compliance, to prove
it catholic by. So that a learned person,* in his Eu
ropa Speculum, or View of the Religions of the
Western church, pronounces Popery, upon a strict
view of the artificial, wonderful composure of the
whole frame of it, the greatest piece of practical wit,
that was ever yet set on foot in the world. For to
show how in a depraved sense it becomes all things
to all men ; is any one of a pious and severely dis
posed mind ? There are those retirements and morti
fications in this religion, which will both employ and
gratify such a disposition. Or, is he, on the other
side, of a loose, jolly temper ? Why, there is that suf
ficiency placed in the opus operatum, and the external
acts of religion, pieced out with suitable supplies from
the bank of merit, which shall make the whole prac
tice of it easy and agreeable. And lastly, if a man
has lost his estate, broke his credit, missed of his pre
ferments, failed in his projects, or the like, he may
fairly and creditably take sanctuary in some monaste
ry, and so pretend piously to leave the world, as soon
as he finds that the world is leaving him.
And as for the doctrinal part of the christian religion,
Escobar, with his fellow casuists, has so pared off all
the roughness of that, and suited the strictest precepts
to the largest and loosest consciences, that it will be a
much harder matter to prove a man a sinner, than to
condemn him for his being so ; so carefully do these men
step in between sin and sorrow : So that, if conscience
should at any time become troublesome, and guilt be
gin to lift up its voice, it is but to go and disgorge all
in confession, and then absolution issuing of course,
eases the mind, and takes off all that anguish and de-
* Sir Edwyn Sandys.

Disc. XL] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 269
spair, which (should it lie pent up, without vent) might
ovenvhelm, or (as Ovid expresses it) even strangle a
man, and either send him to a halter, or prove itself
instead of one.
And thus these spiritual sinks receive and divert all
those ill humours of desperate, discontented persons,
(which the world will never want,) and which, in all
probability, would otherwise discharge themselves up
on the state. For he, who is malcontent and despe
rate, will assuredly either let fall his spirit, and con
sume himself, or keep it up, and so (as occasion serves)
wreak his spite upon the public : For spite »Avill be al
ways working, and either find, or make itself an object
to Avork upon. Cain Avas the only person I have read
of, who sought to divert his discontent by building
cities ; but the reason was, because then there were
none for him to pull doAvn. These, I say, are some
of the benefits, which the papal constitution bestows
upon the civil concerns of such, as fall within its com
munion. But on the contrary, where the quicksilver, or rather
gunpowder of enthusiasm, (for the fifth of November
must not claim it all,) has once insinuated itself into
the veins and bowels of a kingdom, it presently rallies
together all the distempers, all the humours, all the
popular heats and discontents, till it kicks doAvn croAvns
and sceptres, tramples upon thrones, much like those
boisterous vapours shut up within the caverns of the
earth, which no sooner inspire it into a quaking fit, (as
I may express it,) but it overturns houses and towns,
swallows up whole cities, and, in a Avord, writes its
history in ruins and desolations, or in something more
terrible than all, called a. farther reformation. But,
(2.) Popery is likeAvise preferable to Enthusiasm, in
respect of the nature, quality, and complexion of tbe
subjects in which it dwells.
The popish religion has not been of that poisonous
influence, but it has brought up men of accomplished

270 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL
learning and morals, of a sublime wit, and all other
excellent parts, which human nature can recommend
itself by ; whereas enthusiasm, on the contrary, seldom
falls upon such dispositions, but commonly takes up its
abode in the gloomy regions of melancholy, of an ill
habit of body, and a worse of mind ; so that the spirit
of darkness, brooding upon the ill humours of the one,
and the distractions of the other, commonly hatches
this monster. For, to look back upon some of the
most noted ringleaders of our late disorders in church
and state, were they not such as Avere first under some
disorder themselves ? Persons for the most part crack
ed either in fortune or in brain, acted by preternatural
heats ; and so mistaking that for devotion, which was
only distemper, and for a good conscience, which too
often proved little else but a bad constitution. And in
such cases certainly, we may well collect the malignity
of that principle, which never dwells but in such veno
mous tempers, and rationally conclude, that the leprosy
must needs have seized the inhabitants, where the in
fection sticks so close to the walls.
(3.) Popery is likewise much more tolerable than En
thusiasm, upon a religious account. The great basis
upon which the whole body of Christianity rests, is the
divinity of Christ's person, the history of his life and
death, his actions and sufferings, and his resurrection
and ascension concluding all. But though the popish
church has presumed to make several bold additions to,
and some detractions from, the old system of our faith,
yet it always held sacred the foregoing articles. Where
as, on the contrary, Familism and Quakerism, the two
grand and most thriving branches of enthusiasm, have
reduced the whole gospel to allegories and figures, and
turned the history of what Christ actually did and suf
fered, into mystical and moral significations of some
virtues to be wrought within us, or some actions to be
wrought by us. And this in truth does, and must di
rectly strike at the very vitals of our religion, and with-

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 271
out more ado, will (if not prevented) effectually send
Christianity packing out of the world. Popery indeed
has forced some bad consequences from good princi
ples, but this destroys the very principles themselves.
Add to this, that the corruptions in a church are not
so destructive as schisms and divisions from it, the con
stant effects of enthusiasm. It being much in the
body. spiritual as in the natural; where that which
severs the continuity of parts, tends more to the de
struction of the whole, than that which corrupts them.
STou may cure a throat when it is sore, but not when
it is cut.
And so I have done with this parallel ; after which,
give me leave to recapitulate to you, in short, some of
Satan's principal and most specious abuses of religion,
discoursed of by us. As first, how he made use of the
church's abhorrence of Polytheism, for the introduction
of Arianism, in the denial of our Saviour's divinity ;
and next, how upon the fall of that heresy, he took
occasion, from the zealous adoration of Christ's per
son, to bring in a superstitious worship of the virgin
Mary, his mother, and of his picture in crucifixes, and
the like ; and so at length appeared in popery a sort
of religion, making men in nothing more zealous, than
in worshipping such things. And lastly, how, when
this also was shaken off, with the tales and legends
that chiefly supported it, and the bare scripture, with
the guidance of the Spirit, made the sole rule of faith,
he then in the greater and more refined wits turned
Socinian, and in the vulgar played the enthusiast. And
thus, having pursued the impostor through all his laby
rinths, pulled off his vizard, and turned his inside out
wards ; that we may now, by reflecting upon what is
past, the better fence against his methods for the fu
ture, III. I shall here proceed to the last general head
proposed ; and under it very briefly set down some
principles, by which he is likely enough to play over

272 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI
his old game again, and, if not counterworked, to
trump up the same religious cheats upon the world
with more advantage than before. And these are emi
nently three.
1. The stating of the doctrine of faith and free
grace so, as to make them undermine the necessity of
a good life. God's mercy is indeed the crown of all
his attributes, and his grace the emanation of his mer
cy ; and whosoever goes about in the least to derogate
from it, may he (for me) find no share in it. But, af
ter all, has not the devil endeavoured to supplant the
gospel in a considerable part of it, by the very plea of
grace ? while some place an irreconcilable opposition,
between the efficacy of that, and all freedom of man's
will ; and thereby make those things inconsistent, which
the admirable wisdom of God had made so fairly sub
ordinate. But notwithstanding such fancies, we shall
find that religion, in the true nature of it, consists of
action, as well as notion; and that he believes to very
little purpose, whose life is not the better for his be
lief. # , * * * * * * * *
2. A second principle, by which in all likelihood the
devil may impose upon the church, is by opposing the
power of godliness irreconcileably to all forms. And
what is this, but in another instance to confront subor
dinates, and to destroy the body, because the soul can
subsist without it? But thus to sequester the divine
worship from all external assistances, that by this
means (forsooth) it may become all spirit, is no doubt,
a notable fetch of the devil, who, we know, is all
spirit himself, but never the less a devil for being so.
On the contrary; we have rather cause to fear, that in
the strength of this pretence, the worship of Christ
may be treated as Christ himself once was ; that is,
first be stripped, and then crucified. For would you
know what the devil drives at, in all this seemingly
seraphic plea ? Why, first he pleads, that a set service,

Disc. XL] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 273
or liturgy, for divine worship, is superstition and for
mality ; and then, that churches and a ministry are so
too. And lastly, that the very letter of the scripture
is but a mere form, (if so much,) and accordingly to
be laid aside, as in Familism and Quakerism, we have
shown, it actually is.
********
3. The last principle I shall mention, whereby Sa
tan has so much abused the world, and may (for aught
appears to the contrary) do so again, is the ascribing
such a kingdom to Christ, as shall interfere with the
governments of the world. * * * * And if this be the
grand charter of Christ's kingdom, and the execution
thereof be committed wholly to a sort of ecclesiastics,
(and those made such by none but themselves,) it will
in good earnest behove kings and princes to turn their
thrones into stools of repentance ; for, upon these terms,
I know not, where else they can expect to sit safe.
As for the late troubles caused in these poor king
doms by the same rebellious ferment, and carried on
much more by black-coats, than by red, we shall find,
that they all moved by the spring of a few, specious,
abused words ; such as the spirit, christian liberty,
the power of godliness, the sceptre and kingdom of
Jesus Christ, and the like- Touching which, it will
be found no such strange or new thing for Satan to
teach rebellion, as well as to manage a temptation,
iii scripture-phrase. He can trapan a Jeptha into a
vow and solemn oath, and then bind him, under fear
of perjury, to perform it by an horrid and inhuman
murder. And in a word, by a bold and shameless
pretence of God's cause, he can baffle and break
through any of his commands.
And thus, at length, I have upon the matter des
patched what I had to say upon this subject ; a sub
ject of such vast importance, that it would be but to
upbraid any hearer, to enforce it by any farther ar
gument than itself. For can we have an higher con-
S 35

274 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XL.
cern at stake, than our happiness in both worlds, or
a subtiler gamester to win it from us, than he who
understands his game so perfectly well, that though
he stakes nothing, yet never plays for less than all,
in any of his temptations ? which being our case,
should not he Avho is so wise, as to see the danger
he is in, be so wise also, as not to cast the least
pleasing glance upon any of his insidious offers ? espe
cially in their first addresses, when they paint and
flatter most ; considering that nothing ever flatters,
but what is false ; nor paints, but what, without it,
would appear exceedingly ugly. There cannot cer
tainly be a greater reproach to an intelligent being,
than to barter away glory and immortality for bau
bles, to lose paradise for an apple, to damn one's
soul to please one's palate ; and in a word, to be
tempted with such proposals, as the proposer himself
shall extremely scorn and laugh at us for accepting.
For what is all this, but the height of mockery, as
well as misery, the very sting of death, and like be
ing murdered (as the best of kings was) by a dis
guised executioner ? For such an one the tempter
ever was ; never accosting us with a smile, but he de
signs us a stab ; nor on the other hand ever frightening
those, whom he would destroy. Such a course, he well
knows, will not do his work ; but that, if he would
ruin a man effectually, silence and suddenness are his
surest ways ; and he must take heed of giving an
alarm, where he intends a surprize. No ; we may be
sure that he understands the arts of tempting too well,
not to know, that the less he appears, the more he is
like to do, and that the tempter himself is no tempta
tion. He is, indeed, an old, thorough-paced sophister,
and has ways to make the very natures and properties
of things equivocate. He can, if need be, shroud a
glutton in a fast, and a miser in a feast ; and though
the very nature of swine hurries them into the foulest
dirt and mire, yet to serve a turn, we read, he can
make them run as violently into the water.

Disc. XI] THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. 275
Still his way is to amuse the world with shows and
shadows, surface and outside ; and thereby to make
good that old maxim in philosophy, that in all that oc
curs to the eye, it is not substance, but. only colour and
figure, which we see. This has been his practice from
the very infancy and non-age of the world to this day ;
but whatsoever it was then in those early times, shall
we, whose lot has cast us upon these latter ages, and
thereby set us upon their shoulders, giving us all the
advantages of warning and observations made to our
hands, all the benefits of example, and of a long and
various experience ; shall we, I say, after all this, suf
fer ourselves to be fooled with the wretched, transpa
rent artifices of modern dissimulation? with eyes turned
up in prayer to God, but swelling with spite and envy
towards men ? with a purity above mortal pitch, pro
fessed (or rather proclaimed) in words, without so much
as common honesty seen in actions ? with reformation
so speciously pretended, but nothing but sacrilege and
rapine practised ?
This was the true character of the blessed times of
Forty-one ; and one would think it a great pity, that
the same cheat should pass upon the same nation twice.
For nothing but the utter subversion of church and
state was driven at, by Satan and his instruments, in
what was then done; and lies, oaths, and armies,
(raised in the strength of both,) were the means by
which they effected it. In short, the nation was to be
blindfolded, in order to its being buffetted ; and Samp
son to have his eyes put out, before he could be made
fool enough to kill himself for company.
It is no small degree of impudence (common as it
is) for men to dare, to own pretences, contrary to what
they visibly practise ; and yet to show, how much the
world is made for the bold (as the saying is) this has
been the constant course of it, with an unfailing suc
cess attending it. For as long as knaves will pretend,
and fools believe, (as it is seldom but they keep pace

276 THE DISGUISES OF SATAN. [Disc. XI.
with one another) the devil's interest is sure to be
served by both. And therefore, if after this long scene
of imposture (so infinitely dishonourable to our very na
ture) we would effectually obviate the same for the fu
ture ; let us, in God's name, resolve once with ourselves
to act as rational creatures ; that is to say, carry an open
and impartial eye upon what men do, in spite of any
thing they shall or can say. And next, let us, as
Christians, encounter our grand enemy, the tempter,
with these two best of weapons, put into our hands by
the great Captain of our salvation, watchfulness and
prayer; and if by these blessed means, God shall lay
open to us his delusions, we may thank ourselves, if
we fall by his temptations.

DISCOURSE XII.

SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED.

MATTH. x. 355.
But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I
deny before my Father which is in heaven.
As the great comprehensive gospel-duty is the de
nial of self, so the grand gospel sin that confronts it, is
the denial of Christ. These two are both the com
manding and the dividing principles of all our actions :
For whosoever acts in opposition to one, does it always
in behalf of the other. None ever opposed Christ, but
to gratify self : None ever renounced the interest of
self, but from a prevailing love to the interest of Christ.
The subject I have here pitched upon, may seem im
proper in these times, and in this place, where the
number of professors and of men is the same ; where the
cause and interest of Christ has been so cried up ; and
Christ's personal reign so called for and expected. But
since it has been still preached up, but acted down ;
and dealt with, as the eagle in the fable did with the
oyster, carrying it up on high, that by letting it fall he
might dash it in pieces: I say, since Christ must
reign, bnt his truths be made to serve, I suppose it is
but reason to distinguish between profession and pre
tence, and to conclude, that men's present crying,
Hail, king, and bending the knee to Christ, are only
in order to his future crucifixion.
For the discovery of the sense of the words, I shall
inquire into their occasion. From the very beginning

278 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
of the chapter we have Christ consulting the propaga
tion of the gospel ; and in order to it, (being the only
way that he knew to effect it,) sending forth a minis
try ; and giving them a commission, together with in
struction for the execution of it. He would have them
fully acquainted with the nature and extent of their
office ; and so he joins commission with instruction ;
by one he conveys power, by the other knowledge.
Supposing (I conceive) that upon such an undertaking,
the more learned his ministers were, they would prove
never the less faithful* And thus having fitted them,
and stript them of all manner of defence, he sends
them forth amongst wolves : a hard expedition, you
will say, to go amongst wolves ; but yet much harder
to convert them into sheep ; and no less hard even to
discern some of them, possibly being under sheep's
clothing ; and so by the advantage of that dress, soon
er felt than discovered : Probably also such as had both
the properties of wolves, that is, they could whine and
howl, as well as bite and devour. But, that they
might not go altogether naked among their enemies,
the only armour that Christ allows them, is prudence
and innocence ; Be ye wise as serpents, but harmless
as doves : weapons not at all offensive, yet most suit
able to their warfare, whose greatest encounters were
to be exhortations, and whose only conquest, escape.
Innocence is the best caution, and we may unite the
expression, to be wise as a serpent, is to be harmless
as a dove. Innocence is like polished armour ; it
adorns and it defends. In sum, he tell them, that the
opposition they should meet with, was the greatest
imaginable. But he promises them an equal propor
tion of assistance ; and, as if it were not of force
enough to out-weigh the forementioned discourage
ments, he casts into the balance the promise of a
reward to such as should execute, and of punishment
* In the parliament of 1653, it being put to the vote, whether they
should support and encourage a godly and learned ministry, the latter
word was rejected, and the vote passed for a godly and faithful ministry.

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 279
to such as should neglect their commission : The re
ward in the former verse, Whosoever shall confess
me before men, &c. the punishment in this, But who
soever shall deny, &c. As if by way of pre-occu-
pation, he should have said, Well, here you see
your commission ; this is your duty, these your dis
couragements : Never seek for shifts and evasions from
worldly afflictions ; this is your reward, if you perform
it ; this is your doom, if you decline it.
As for the explication of the words, they are clear
and easy ; and their originals in the Greek are of single
signification, without any ambiguity ; and therefore 1
shall not trouble you, by proposing how they run in
this or that edition ; or straining for an interpretation
where there is no difficulty, or distinction where there
is no difference.
******
From the words we may deduce these observations :
1. We shall find strong motives and temptations
from men, to draw us to a denial of Christ. 2. No
terrors, or solicitations from men, though never so
great, can warrant or excuse such a denial. 3. To
deny Christ's words, is to deny Christ.
But since these observations are rather implied,
than expressed in the words, I shall wave them, and
instead of deducing a doctrine distinct from the words,
prosecute the words themselves under this doctrinal
paraphrase : Whosoever shall deny, disown, or be
ashamed of either the person or truths of Jesus Christ,
for any fear or favour of man, shall with shame be
disowned, and eternally rejected by him at the dread
ful judgment of the great day.
The discussion of this shall lie in these things.
To show,
I. How many ways Christ and his truths may be
denied. II. What are the causes that induce men to
a denial of Christ and his truths. III. How far a
man may consult his safety in time of persecution,

280 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
without denying Christ. IV. What is imported in
Christ's denying us before his Father in heaven. V. To
apply all to the present occasion.
But before I enter upon these, I must briefly pre
mise this ; that though the text and the doctrine run
peremptory and absolute, Whosoever denies Christ,
shall assuredly be denied by him; yet still there is a
tacit condition in the words supposed, unless repent
ance intervene. God in mercy has so tempered his
word, that we have, for the most part, a reserve of
mercy wrapped up in a curse. And the very first judg
ment that was pronounced upon fallen man, was with
the allay of a promise. This premised, I come now
I. To the first thing, viz. How many ways Christ
and his truths may be denied, &c. Here first, in gene
ral, I assert, that we may deny him in all those acts
that are capable of being morally good or evil ; those
are the proper scene in which we act our confessions
or denials of him. Accordingly, therefore, all ways of
denying Christ, I shall comprise under these three.
1. We may deny him and his truths by an heretical
judgment. I know it is doubted whether a bare error
in judgment can condemn : but since truths, absolutely
necessary to salvation, are so clearly revealed that we
cannot err in them, unless notoriously wanting to our
selves ; herein the fault of the judgment is resolved
into a precedent default in the will,- and so the case
is put out of doubt. But here it may be replied, Are
not truths of fundamental necessity, very disputable ;
as the Deity of Christ, the trinity of persons ; if they
are not in themselves disputable, why are they so
much disputed ? Indeed, I believe, if we trace these
disputes to their original cause, we shall find, that
they never sprung from a reluctancy in reason to em
brace them. For this reason itself dictates, as most
rational, to assent to any thing, though seemingly con
trary to reason* if it is revealed by God, and we are
certain qf the revelation. These two supposed, these

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 281
disputes must needs arise only from curiosity and sin
gularity; and these are faults of a diseased will.
* * * * But yet more
fully to state the matter, how far a denial of Christ
in belief and judgment, is damnable : We will pro
pose the question, whether those who hold the fun
damentals of faith may deny Christ damnably, in re
spect of those superstructures, and consequences that
arise from them ? I answer in brief, by fundamental
truths are understood, (1.) Either such, without the
belief of which we cannot be saved : Or, (2.) Such,
the belief of which is sufficient to save : If the question
be proposed of fundamentals in this latter sense, it con
tains its own answer ; for where a man believes those
truths, the belief of which is sufficient to save, there
the disbelief or denial of their consequences cannot
condemn. But what, and how many these fundament
als are, it will then be agreed upon, when all sects,
opinions, and persuasions do unite and consent. If
we speak of fundamentals in the former sense, as they
are only truths, without which we cannot be saved, it
is manifest that we may believe them, and yet be damn
ed for denying their consequences : For that which
is only a condition, without which we cannot be saved,
is not therefore a cause sufficient to save : Much more
is required to the latter, than to the former. I con
clude therefore, that to deny Christ in our judgment,
will condemn, and this concerns the learned : Christ
demands the homage of your understanding : He will
have your reason bend to him ; you must put your heads
under his feet. And we know, that heretofore, he who
had the leprosy in this part, was to be pronounced
utterly unclean. A poisoned reason, an infected judg
ment is Christ's greatest enemy. And an error in the
judgment, is like an imposthume in the head, which is
always noisome, and frequently mortal.
2. We may deny Christ by oral expressions. Noav
our words are the interpreters of our hearts, the tran-
36

282 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [DiSC. XII.
script of the judgment, with some farther addition of
good or evil. He that interprets, usually enlarges.
What our judgment whispers in secret, these proclaim
upon the house top. To deny Christ in the former,
imports enmity ; but in these, open defiance. Christ's
passion is renewed in both : He that mis-judges of
him, condemns him ; but he that blasphemes him, spits
in his face. Thus the Jews and the Pharisees denied
Christ. We know that this man is a sinner, John ix,
24. And a deceiver, Matt, xxvii, 63. And he casts out
devils by the prince of devils, Matt, xii, 24. And thus
Christ is daily denied, in many blasphemies printed
and divulged, and many horrid opinions vented against
the truth. The schools dispute, whether in morals the
external action superadds any thing of good or evil to
the internal elicit act of the will : But certainly the
enmity of our judgments is wrought up to an high pitch,
before it rages in an open denial. And it is a sign
that it is grown too big for the heart, when it seeks
for vent in our words. Blasphemy uttered, is error
heightened with impudence : It is sin scorning a con
cealment, not only committed but defended. * * *
3. We may deny Christ in our actions and practice;
and these speak much louder than our tongues. To
have an orthodox belief, and a true profession, concur
ring with a bad life, is only to deny Christ with a
greater solemnity. Belief and profession will speak
thee a Christian but very faintly, when thy conversa
tion proclaims thee an infidel. Many, while they have
preached Christ in their sermons, have read a lecture
of atheism in their practice. We have many here
who speak of godliness, mortification, and self-denial ;
but if these are so, what means the bleating of the
sheep, and the lowing of the oxen, the- noise of their
ordinary sins, and the cry of their great ones ? If god
ly, why do they wallow in all the carnalities of the
world, under pretence of Christian liberty ? Why do
they make religion ridiculous by pretending to prophe-

Disc. XII.] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 283
cy, and when their prophecies prove delusions, why do
they blaspheme ?* If such are self-deniers, what
means the griping, the prejudice, the covetousness, and
the pluralities preached against, and retained, and the
arbitrary government of many ? When such men preach
of self-denial and humility, I cannot but think of Sen
eca, who praised poverty, and that very safely, in the
midst of his riches and gardens ; and even exhorted the
world to throw away their gold, perhaps (as one well
conjectures) that he might gather it up : So these de
sire men to be humble, that they may domineer with
out opposition. But it is an easy matter to commend
patience, when there is no danger of any trial, to extol
humility in the midst of honours, to begin a fast after
dinner.f But, O hoAV Christ will deal with such per
sons, when he shall draw forth all their actions bare
and stripped from this deceiving veil of their heavenly
speeches ! He will then say, It was not your sad coun
tenance, nor your hypocritical groaning, by which you
did either confess or honour me : but your worldliness,
your luxury, your sinister partial dealing : these have
denied me, these have wounded me, these have gone
to my heart ; these have caused the weak to stumble,
and the profane to blaspheme. You have indeed
spoke me fair, you have saluted me with your lips, but
even then you betrayed me. Depart from me therefore,
ye professors of holiness, but workers of iniquity.
* * * * * * * * *
Pass we now to shoAv,
II. What are the causes inducing men to deny
Christ in his truths. I shall propose three.
* A noted Independent divine, when Oliver Cromwell was sick, declar
ed that God had revealed to him that he should recover and live thirty
years longer, for that God had raised him up for a work which could not
be done in less time. But Oliver's death being published two days after,
the said divine public kly in prayer expostulated with God the defeat of
his prophecy, in these words: Lord, thou hast lied unto us ; yea, thou
hast lied unto us.
f Very credibly reported to have been done in an Independent congre
gation at Oxford.

284 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
1. The seeming supposed absurdity of many truths :
Upon this foundation heresy always builds. It is easy
to draw it forth and demonstrate, bow upon this score
the chief heresies, that now are said to trouble the
church, do oppose and deny the most important truths
in divinity. As first, hear the denier of the Deity, and
satisfaction of Christ. What (says he), can the same
person be God and man, the creature and the Cre
ator ? Can we ascribe such attributes to the same thing,
whereof one implies a negation ? And when we distin
guish between the person and the nature ; was not that
distinction an invention of the schools, savoring rather
of metaphysics, than divinity ? Then for his satisfac
tion, they will demand to whom this satisfaction is
paid ? If to God, then God pays a price to himself :
And what is it else to require and need no satisfaction,
than for one to satisfy himself? Next comes in the de
nier of the decrees and free grace of God. What (says
he), shall we exhort, admonish, and intreat the saints to
beware of the falling away finally, and at the same time
assert, that it is impossible for them so to fall ? Then for
justification. How are you justified by an imputed
righteousness ? Is it yours before it is imputed, or not ?
If not, (as we must say) is this to be justified, to have
that accounted yours, that is not yours ? But again,
did you ever hear of any man made rich or wise by
imputation? Why then, righteous or just? Now these
seeming paradoxes, attending gospel truths, cause men
of weak, prejudiced intellectuals to deny them, and in
them, Christ ; being ashamed to own faith so much
(as they think) to the disparagement of their rea
son. 2. The second thing causing men to deny the truths
of Christ, is their unprofitableness. And no wonder,
if here men forsake the truth, and assert interest. To
be pious is the way to be poor. Truth still gives its
followers its own badge and livery, a despised naked
ness. It is hard to maintain the truth, but much harder

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 285
to be maintained by it : Could it ever yet cloath, or de
fend its assertors ? Did ever any man quench his thirst,
or satisfy his hunger with a notion ? The testimony of"
Brutus concerning virtue, is the apprehension of most,
concerning truth : That it is a name, but lives and es
tates are things, and therefore not to be thrown away
upon words. That we are neither to worship or cringe
to any thing under the Deity, is a truth too strict for a
Naaman. He can be content to worship the true God,
but then it must be in the house of Rimmon. The
reason was implied in his condition, he was Captain of
the host, and therefore he thought it reason good to
bow to Rimmon, rather than endanger his place : Bet
ter boAV than break. Indeed sometimes Providence
casts things so, that truth and interest lie the same
way : And, when it is wrapt up in this covering, men
can be content to follow it, to press hard after it, but
it is, as we pursue some beasts, only for their skins :
Take off* the covering, and though men obtain the
truth, they would lament the loss of that : As Jacob
wept and mourned over the torn coat, when Joseph
was alive. It is incredible to consider how interest
out-weighs truth. If a thing in itself be doubtful, let
it make for interest, and it shall be raised at least into
probable ; and if a truth be certain, and thwart inter
est, it will quickly fetch it down to but a probability :
Nay, if it does not carry with it an impregnable evi
dence, it will go near to debase it to a downright fal
sity. How much interest casts the balance in cases
dubious, I could give sundry instances : Let one suf
fice : And that concerning the unlawfulness of usury.
Most of the learned men in the world successively,
both heathen and Christian, do assert the taking of
usury to be utterly unlawful ; yet the divines of the re
formed church beyond the seas, though most rigid in
other things, do generally affirm it to be lawful. That
the case may be disputed with plausible arguments on
either side, we may well grant : But what then is the

286 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
reason, that makes these divines so unanimously con
cur in this opinion ? Indeed I shall not affirm this to be
the reason, but it may seem so to many : That they
receive their salaries by way of pension, in present
ready money, and so have no other way to improve
them ; so that it may be suspected, that the change of
their salary, would be the strongest argument to
change their opinion. The truth is, interest is the
grand wheel and spring that moves the universe. Let
Christ and truth say what they will, if interest will
have it, gain must be godliness : If enthusiasm is in
request, learning must be inconsistent with grace. If
pay grows short, the university maintenance must be
too great. Rather than Pilate will be counted Ccesar's
enemy, he will pronounce Christ innocent one hour,
and condemn him the next. How Christ is made to
truckle under the world, and how his truths are shuffled
with for profit and pelf, the clearest proof would be by
induction and example. But as it is the most clear,
so here it would be the most unpleasing : Wherefore I
shall pass this over, since the world is now so peccant
upon this account, that I am afraid instances wrould be
mistaken for invectives.
3. The third cause inducing men to deny Christ in
his truths, is their apparent danger. To confess Christ,
is the ready way to be cast out of the synagogue. The
church is a place of graves, as well as of worship and
profession. To be resolute in a good cause, is to bring
upon ourselves the punishments due to a bad. Truth
indeed is a possession of the highest value, and there
fore it must needs expose the owner to much danger.
Christ is sometimes pleased to make the profession of
himself costly, and a man cannot buy the truth, but he
must pay down his life and his dearest blood for it.
Christianity marks a man out for destruction ; and
Christ sometimes chalks out such a way to salvation,
as shall verify his own saying, He that will save, his
life, shall lose it. The first ages of the church had a

Disc. XIL] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 287
more abundant experience of this : What Paul and.
the rest planted by their preaching, they watered with
their blood. We know their usage was such, as Christ
foretold ; he sent them to wolves, and the common
course then was Christianos ad leones. For a man
to give his name to Christianity in those days, was to
list himself a martyr, and to bid farewell not only to the
pleasures, but also to the hopes of this life. Neither
was it a single death only that then attended this pro
fession, but the terror and sharpness of it was redoub
led in the manner and circumstance. They had per
secutors, whose invention was as great as their cruelty.
Wit and malice conspired to find out such tortures,
such deaths, that only the manner of dying was the
punishment, death itself the deliverance. To be a mar
tyr, signifies only to witness the truth of Christ, but the
witnessing of the truth was then so generally attended
with this event, that martyrdom now signifies not only
to witness, but to witness by death ; the word, be
sides its own signification, importing their practice.
And since Christians have been freed from heathens,
Christians themselves have turned persecutors. Since
Rome from heathen was turned christian, it has im
proved its persecution into an inquisition. Now when
Christ and truth are upon these terms, that men cannot
confess him, but upon pain of death, the reason of their
apostacy is clear ; men will be wise, and leave truth
and misery to such as love it ; they are resolved to be
cunning, let others run the hazard of being sincere. If
they must be good at so high a rate, they know they
may be safe at a cheaper. Si negare sufficiut, quis
erit nocens ? If to deny Christ will save them, the
truth shall never make them guilty. Let Christ and
his flock lie open, and exposed to all weather of perse
cution, foxes will be sure to have holes. And if it
comes to this, that they must either renounce their re
ligion, or forfeit their lives to the fire or the sword, it is
but inverting Job's wife's advice, Curse God, and live.

288 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
III. We proceed now to show, how far a man may
consult his safety, &c.
This he may do two ways.
1. By withdrawing his person. Martyrdom is an
heroic act of faith. An achievement beyond an ordi
nary pitch of it ; to you, says the Spirit, it is given lo
suffer. It is a peculiar, additional gift. Let every
man thoroughly consult the temper of his faith, and
weigh his courage with his fears, and take the meas
ure of both ; and if his spirit faints, if his heart mis
gives and melts at the very thoughts of the fire, let
him fly and secure his own soul, and Christ's honour.
Non negat Christum fugiendo, qui ideo fugit ne ne-
get : He does not deny Christ by flying, who there
fore flies that he may not deny him. Nay, he does
not so much decline, as rather change his martyrdom :
He flies from the flame, but repairs to a desart ; to
poverty and hunger in a wilderness. Whereas, if he
would dispense with his conscience, and deny his
Lord, or swallow down two or three contradictory
oaths, he should neither fear the one, nor be forced to
the other.
2. By concealing his judgment. A man sometimes
is no more bound to speak, than to destroy himself;
and as nature abhors this, so religion does not command
that. In the times of the primitive church, when the
Christians dwelt amongst heathens, it is reported of a
certain maid, how she came from her father's house,
to one of the tribunals of the Gentiles, and declared
herself a Christian, spit in the Judge's face, and so
provoked him to cause her to be executed. But will
any say, that this was to confess Christ, or die a mar
tyr ? He that, uncalled for, uncompelled, comes and
proclaims a persecuted truth, for which he is surely to
die, only dies a confessor to his own folly, and a sacri
fice to his own rashness. Martyrdom is stampt such
only by God's command ; and he that ventures upon it
without a call, must endure it without a reward :

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 289
Christ will say, Who required this at your hands ?
His gospel does not dictate imprudence : No evangel
ical precept justles out that of a lawful self-preserva
tion. He therefore that thus throws himself upon the
sword, runs to heaven before he is sent for, where,
though perhaps Christ may in mercy receive the man,
yet he -will be sure to disown the martyr.
And thus much concerning those lawful ways of se
curing ourselves in time of persecution. Not, as if
these were always : For sometimes a man is bound to
confess Christ openly, though he dies for it ; and to
conceal a truth, is to deny it. But now, to show
when it is unlawful to take these courses, by some
general rule of a perpetual, never-failing truth, none
ever would yet presume. For, as Aristotle says, We
are not to expect demonstration in ethics or politics, nor
to build certain rules upon the contingency of human
actions. So, inasmuch as our flying from persecution,
our confessing or concealing persecuted truths, change
their very nature, according to different circumstances,
we cannot limit their directions within any one univer
sal precept : You will say then, How shall we know
when to confess, when to conceal a truth ? when to
Avait for, when to decline persecution ? Indeed, the
only way that, I think, can be prescribed in this case,
is to be earnest and importunate with God in prayer
for special direction : And it is not to be imagined,
that he, who is both faithful and merciful, will leave a
sincere soul in the dark upon such an occasion. But
this I shall add, that the ministers of God are not to
take refuge in any of these two forementioned ways.
They are public persons ; and good shepherds must
then chiefly stand close to the flock, when the wolf
comes. For them to be silent in the cause of Christ,
is to renounce it ; and to fly, is to desert it. As for
that place urged in favour of the contrary, in v. 23,
When they persecute you in this city, flee into another,
it proves nothing ; for the precept was particular, and
37

290 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
concerned only the apostles; and that, but for that
time in which they were then sent to the Jews, at
which time Christ kept them as a reserve for the fu
ture. For when after his death they were indifferently
sent both to Jews and Gentiles, we find not this clause
in their commission, but they were to sign the truths
they preached with their blood ; as we knoAV they ac
tually did. And moreover, when Christ bids them,
being persecuted in one city, fly into another, it was
not, (as Grotius acutely observes,) that they might lie
hid, or be secure in that city, but that there they
might preach the gospel : So that their flight here
was not to secure their persons, but to continue
their business. I conclude, therefore, that faithful
ministers are to stand and endure the brunt. A com
mon soldier may fly, Avhen it is the duty of him that
holds the standard to die upon the place. And we
have abundant encouragement so to do : Christ has
seconded and sweetened his command with his pro
mise : Yea, the thing itself is not only our duty, but
our glory. And he, who has done this work, has in the
very work partly received his wages. And, were it
put to my choice, I think I should choose rather, with
spitting and scorn, to be tumbled into the dust in blood,
bearing witness to any known truth of our dear Lord,
now opposed by the enthusiasts of the present age,
than by a denial of those truths, through blood and per
jury Avade to a scepter. And we need not doubt, but
truth, however oppressed, will have followers, and at
length prevail. A Christ, though crucified, will arise r
And, as it is in the Rev. xi. 3. The witnesses will pro
phecy, though it be in sackcloth.
IV. I proceed to show, what it is for Christ to de
ny us before his Father in heaven. Hitherto we have
treated of men's carriage to Christ in this world ; now
we will describe his carriage to them in the other.
These words clearly relate to the last judgment ; and
they are a summary description of his proceeding with
men at that day.

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 291
And here we will consider, 1. The action itself,
He will deny them. 2. The circumstance of the ac
tion, He will deny them before his Father and the holy
angels. 1. Christ's denying us is otherwise expressed (Luke
xiii. 27.) / know you not. To know, in scripture lan
guage, is to approve ; and so, not to know, is to re
ject and condemn. Now, who knows how many woes
are crowded into this one sentence, / will deny him ?
It is (to say no more) a compendious expression of
hell, an eternity of torments comprised in a word : It
is condemnation itself, and, what is most of all, con
demnation from the mouth of a Saviour. O ! the in
expressible horror that will seize upon a poor sinner,
when he stands arraigned at the bar of divine justice !
When he shall look about and see his accuser, his
Judge, the witnesses, all of them his remorseless ad
versaries ; the law impleading mercy, and the gospel
upbraiding him, the devil, his grand accuser, drawing
his indictment ; numbering his sins with the greatest
exactness, and aggravating them with the cruellest
bitterness ; and conscience, like a thousand witnesses,
attesting every article, flying in his face, and rending
his very heart : And then after all, Christ, from whom
only mercy could be expected, owning the accusation.
It will be hell enough to hear the sentence ; the very
promulgation of the punishment will be part of the
punishment, and anticipate the execution. If Peter
was so abashed when Christ gave him a look after
his denial ; if there was so much dread in his looks
when he stood as prisoner, how much greater will it
be when he sits as a judge ? If it was so fearful when
he looked his denier into repentance, what will it be
when he shall look him into destruction ? Believe it,
when we shall hear an accusation from an Advocate,
our eternal doom from our Intercessor, it will convince
us that a denial of Christ is something more than a few
transitory words: What trembling, what outcries,

'292 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [DisC. XII.
will there be upon the pronouncing this sentence !
Every word will come upon the sinner, like an arrow
striking through his reins ; like thunder, that is heard,
and consumes at the same instant. Yea, it will be a
denial with scorn, Avith taunting exprobrations ; and to
be miserable Avithout commiseration, is the height of
misery. He that falls below pity, can fall no lower.
Could I give you a lively representation of guilt and
horror on this hand, and decipher eternal vengeance
on the other, then might I show you the condition of
a sinner hearing himself denied by Christ : And for
those, whom Christ has denied, it will be in vain to
appeal to the Father, unless we can imagine that those,
whom mercy has condemned, justice will absolve.
2. For the circumstance : He will deny us before
his Father and the holy angels. As much as God is
more glorious than man, so much is it more glorious
to be confessed before him, than before men : And so
much glory as there is in being confessed, so much
dishonour there is in being" denied. If there could be
any room for comfort after the sentence of damnation,
it would be this, to be executed in secret, to perish un
observed. As it is some allay to the infamy of him
who died ignominiously, to be buried privately. But
when a man's folly must be spread open before the
angels, and all his baseness ript up before those pure
spirits, this will be a double hell : to be thrust into ut
ter darkness, only to be punished by it, without the
benefit of being concealed. When Christ shall com
pare himself, who was denied, and the thing for which
he was denied, together, and parallel his merits with
a lust, and lay eternity in the balance with a trifle,
then the folly of the sinner's choice shall be the great
est sting of his destruction. For a man shall not have
the advantage of his former ignorance and error, to ap
prove his sin. Things that appeared amiable by the
light of this world, will appear of a different odious
hue in the clear discoveries of the next : As that which

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 293
appears to be of this colour by a dim candle, will be
found to be of another, looked upon in the day. So
when Christ shall have cleared up men's apprehensions
about the value of things, he will propose that worthy
prize for which he was denied. He will hold it up to
open view, and call upon men and angels : Behold,
look, here's the thing, here's that piece of dirt, that
windy applause, that poor transitory pleasure, that con
temptible danger, for which I was dishonoured, my
truth disowned, and for which, life, eternity, and God
himself was scorned and trampled upon by this sinner :
Judge all the world, whether what he so despised in
the other life, he deserves to enjoy in this ? How will
the condemned sinner then crawl forth, and appear in
his filth and shame, before that undefiled tribunal, like
a toad or a snake in a king's presence chamber?
Nothing so irksome, as to have one's folly displayed
before the prudent ; one's impurity before the pure.
And all this, before that company surrounding him,
from which he is neither able to look off, nor yet to
look upon. A disgrace put upon a man in company is
unsupportable : It is heightened according to the great
ness, and multiplied according to the number of the
persons that hear it. And now, as this circumstance
[before his Father] fully speaks the shame, so likewise
it speaks the danger of Christ's then denying us. For
when the accusation is heard, and the person stands
convict, God is immediately lifting up his hand to in
flict the eternal blow ; and when Christ denies to ex
hibit a ransom to step between the stroke then coming
and the sinner, it must inevitably fall upon him, and sink
his guilty soul into that deep and bottomless gulph of
endless perdition. This therefore is the sum of Christ's
denying us before his Father, viz. unsupportable shame,
unavoidable destruction.
V. I proceed now to the uses which may be drawn
from the truths delivered. And,
1. (Right honourable) not only the present occasion,

294 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
but even the words themselves seem eminently to ad
dress an exhortation to your honours. As for others
not to deny Christ, is openly to profess him ; so for
you, Avho are invested with authority, not to deny him,
is to defend him. Know therefore, that Christ does
not only desire, but demand your defence, and that in
a double respect; (1.) In respect of his truth. (2.) Of
his members.
(1.) He requires, that you should defend and con
fess him in his truth. Heresy is a tare sometimes not
to be pulled up but by the civil magistrate. The word
liberty of conscience is much abused for the defence of
it, because not well understood. Every man may have
liberty of conscience to judge as he pleases, but not to
vent what he pleases. The reason is, because con
science bounding itself within the thoughts, is of pri
vate concernment, and the cognizance of these belongs
only to God : But when an opinion is published, it con
cerns all that hear it, and the public being endamaged
by it, it becomes punishable by the magistrate, to
whom the care of the public is intrusted. But there
is one truth that concerns both ministry and magistracy,
and all ; which is opposed by those who affirm, that
none ought to govern upon the earth, but Christ in per
son : Absurdly ! as if the powers that are, destroyed
his ; as if a deputy were not consistent with a king ;
as if there were any opposition in subordination. They
affirm also, that the wicked have no right to their
estates ; but only the faithful, that is, themselves, ought
to possess the earth. I shall not be so urgent, to press
you to confess Christ, by asserting and owning the
truth, contrary to this, since it does not only oppose
truth, but property ; and here to deny Christ, would
be to deny yourselves in a sense, which none is like
to do.
(2.) Christ requires you to own and defend him in
his members ; and amongst these, the chief of them,
and such as most fall in your way, the ministers ; I

Disc. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 295
say, that despised, abject, oppressed sort of men, the
ministers, whom the world Avould make anti-christian,
and so deprive them of heaven ; and also strip them of
that poor remainder of their maintenance, and so allow
them no portion upon the earth. You may now spare
that distinction of scandalous ministers, when it is even
made scandalous to be a minister. And as for their
discouragement in the courts of the law, I shall only
note this, that for these many years last past, it has
been the constant observation of all, that if a minister
had a cause depending in the court, it was ten to one
but it went against him. I cannot believe your law
justles out the gospel ; but if it be thus used to under
mine Christ in his servants, beware that such judg
ments passed upon them, do not fetch down God's
judgments upon the land ; and that for such abuse of
law, Christ does not in anger deprive both you and us
of its use. (My lords,) I make no doubt, but you will
meet with many suits in your course, in which the
persons we speak of are concerned, as it is easy to
prognosticate from those many worthy petitions pre
ferred against them, for which the well-affected peti
tioners* will one day receive but small thanks from the
court of heaven. But however their causes speed in
your tribunals, know that Christ himself will recognise
them at a greater. And then, what a different face
will be put upon things ! when the usurping, devouring
Nimrods of the world shall be cast with scorn on the
left hand ; and Christ himself in that great consistory
shall deign to step down from his throne, and single
out a poor despised minister, and openly thus confess
him before his Father : Father, here is a poor servant
of mine, who, for doing his duty, and testifying my
truths in an hypocritical, pretending age, was wronged,
trod upon, stript of all : I will, that there be now a
* Whensoever any petition was put up to the parliament in the year
1653, for the taking away of tythes, the thanks of the house were still
returned to them, and that by the name and elogy of the ieell-affected
petitioners.

296 SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. [Disc. XII.
distinction made, between such as have confessed me
with the loss of the world, and those that have denied,
persecuted, and insulted over me : It will be in vain
then to come and creep for mercy ; and say, Lord,
when did Ave insult over thee ? When did we see
thee in our courts, and despised or oppressed thee ?
Christ's reply will be then quick and sharp : Verily,
inasmuch as you did it to one of these little, poor, de
spised ones, ye did it unto me.
2. The second use is of information, to show us the
danger as well as the baseness of a dastardly spirit, in
asserting the interest and truth of Christ. Since Christ
has made a christian course a warfare, of all men liv
ing a coward is the most unfit to make a Christian ;
whose infamy is not so great, but it is sometimes less
than his peril. A coward does not always escape with
disgrace, but sometimes also he loses his life : Where
fore, let all such know, as can enlarge their consciences
like hell, and call any sinful compliance, submission,
and a cowardly silence in Christ's cause, discretion ;
I say, let them know, that Christ will one day scorn
them, and spit them, with their policy and prudence,
into hell ; and then let them consult, how politic they
were, for a temporal emolument, to throw away eter
nity. The things which generally cause men to deny
Christ, are, either the enjoyments, or the miseries of
this life : But, alas ! at the day of judgment all these
Avill expire ; and, as one well observes, what are we
the better for pleasure, or the wrorse for sorrow, when
it is past ? But then sin and guilt will be still fresh,
and heaven and hell will be then yet to begin. If ever
it was seasonable to preach courage in tbe despised,
abused cause of Christ, it is now ; when his truths are
reformed into nothing, when the hands and hearts of
his faithful ministers are weakened, and his worship
extirpated in a mockery, that his honour may be ad
vanced. Well, to establish our hearts in duty, let us
beforehand propose to ourselves the worst that can

DISC. XII] SELF-INTEREST DEPOSED. 297
happen. Should God in his judgment suffer England
to be transformed into a monster ; should the faithful
be every where massacred ; should the places of learn
ing be demolished, and our colleges reduced (not only
as one* in his zeal would have it) to three, but to none;
yet, assuredly, hell is worse than all this, and is the
portion of such as deny Christ : Wherefore, let our
discouragements be what they will, loss of places, of
estates, of life, and relations ; yet still this sentence
stands ratified in the decrees of heaven, Cursed be that
man, that for any of these shall desert the truth, and
deny his Lord.
*U. C. a colonel of the army, the perfidious cause of Penruddock's
death, and some time after high sheriff of Oxfordshire, openly and fre
quently affirmed the uselessness of the Universities, and that three col
leges were sufficient to answer the occasions of the nation, for the
breeding of men up to learning, so far as it was either necessary or
useful.

DISCOURSE XIII.

OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES.

MATTH. v. 44.
But I say unto you, Love your enemies.

I affirm that Christ does by no means here set him
self against the law of Moses as a law eithex faulty or
imperfect, and upon those accounts needing either cor
rection, or addition, but only opposes the corrupt com
ments of the Scribes and Pharisees upon the law, as
really contradictions to it rather than expositions of
it ; and that for these following reasons.
First, Because the words in this sermon mentioned
and opposed by Christ, are manifestly, for the most
part, not the words of the law itself, but of the Scribes
and Pharisees. As for instance, Whosoever shall
kill, shall be in danger of the judgment. And again
in the next verse, He shall be in danger of the coun
cil. They all refer to the Pharisees' way of express
ing themselves ; which manifestly shows, that it was
their doctrine and words which he was now disputing
against, and not the law itself; which this is by no
means the language of.
Secondly, That expression, that it was said by
those of old time, was not uttered by Christ in his own
person, but by way of prosopopceia, in the person of
the Scribes and Pharisees, whose custom it was to
preface and authorize their lectures and glosses to the
people, with the pompous plea of antiquity and tradi-

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 299
tion. As if Christ had bespoken them thus : You
have been accustomed indeed to hear the Scribes and
Pharisees tell you, that this and this was said by those
of old time, but notwithstanding all these pretences, I
tell you that the case is much otherwise, and that the
true account and sense of the law is thus and thus.
This, I say, is the natural purport, and meaning of our
Saviour's words throughout this chapter.
Thirdly, That passage, Ye have heard that it hath
been said, Ye shall love your neighbour and hate your
enemy, is so far from being words of the Mosaic law,
that Moses commands the clean contrary to the latter
clause ; Exod. xxiii, 24. If thou seest thine enemy's
ox going astray, thou shalt surely bring it back to him
again ; and the ass of him who haleth thee, lying un
der his burthen, thou shalt surely help him. And if
this was the voice of the law then, can we imagine
that it would make it a man's duty to relieve an ene
my's ox, or his ass, and at the same time allow him to
hate or malign his person ? This certainly is incred
ible. Fourthly, If Christ opposed his precepts to those of
the Mosaic law, then God speaking by Christ must
contradict himself as speaking by Moses. For what
soever Moses spoke, he spoke as the immediate dic
tates of God, from whom he received the law. But
this is absurd, and by no means consistent with the
divine holiness and veracity.
Fifthly, Christ in all this discourse never calls any
one of the doctrines opposed by him, the words of
Moses or of the law, but only the righteousness of the
the Scribes and Pharisees, which show that they, and
they only, were the persons with whom he managed
this whole contest.
Let this therefore rest with us as a firm conclusion ;
that Moses and Christ were at perfect agreement,
whatever the controversy was between him and the
Pharisees. And so from the context of the words, I

300 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
pass to the duty enjoined in them, which is to love our
enemies : The discussion of which I shall cast under
three general heads.
I. I shall show negatively what is not that love,
which we are here commanded to sIioav our enemies.
II. I shall show positively wherein it does con
sist. III. I shall produce arguments to enforce it. And,
I. What is not that love, which we must show our
enemies. This we shall find to exclude several things
which would fain wear this name.
1. As to treat an enemy with a fair deportment and
amicable language, is not the love here enjoined by
Christ. Love scorns to dwell any where but in the
heart. The tongue is a thing made for words, but
what reality is there in a voice, what substance in a
sound ? The kindness of the heart never kills, but
that of the tongue often does. And in an ill sense a
soft answer may sometimes break the bones. He who
speaks me well, proves himself a rhetorician or a cour
tier ; but that is not to be a friend.
Was ever the hungry fed, or the naked clothed with
good looks or fair speeches ? These are but thin gar
ments to keep out the cold, and but a slender repast
to conjure down the rage of a craving appetite. My
enemy perhaps is ready to starve through poverty, and
I tell him I am heartily glad to see him, and should be
very ready to serve him, but still my hand is close, and
my purse shut ; I neither bring him to my table, nor
lodge him under my roof; he asks for bread, and I
give a compliment, a thing indeed not so hard as a
stone, but altogether as dry. I treat him with art and
outside : And lastly at parting, with all the ceremor
nies of dearness, I shake him by the hand, but put
nothing into it. In a word, 1 play with his distress,
and dally with that which will not be dallied with,
want, misery, and a clamorous necessity.
For will fair words and a courtly behaviour discharge
scores ? If they could, there is a sort of men that

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 301
would not be so much in debt as they are. Can a
man look and speak himself out of his creditors' hands ?
Surely then, if my words cannot do this for myself,
neither can they do it for my enemy. And therefore,
this has nothing of the love spoken of in the text. It
is but a meer mockery, for the receiving that cannot
make my enemy at all the richer, the giving of which
makes me not one penny the poorer. It is indeed the
fashion of the world thus to amuse men Avith empty
caresses ; nay, it has this peculiar privilege above all
other fashions, that it never alters ; but certainly no
man ever yet quenched his thirst with looking upon
a golden cup, nor made a meal with the outside of a
lordly dish.
But fair speeches and looks are not only very insig
nificant as to the real effects of love, but are for the
most part the instruments of hatred in the execution
of the greatest mischiefs. FeAV men are to be ruin
ed till they are made confident of the contrary ; and
this cannot be done by threats, and oAvning the mis
chief that a man designs ; but the pit-fall must be
covered to invite the man to venture over it ; all
things must be sweetened with professions of love,
friendly looks, and embraces. For it is oil that whets
the razor, and the smoothest edge is still the sharp
est: they are the complacencies of an enemy that
kill, the closest hugs that stifle, and love must be pre
tended before malice can be effectually practised. In
a word, he must get into his heart with fair speeches
and promises, before he can come at it with his dag
ger. For surely no man fishes with a bare hook, or
thinks that the net itself can be any enticement to the
bird. But now, if these outward shows are short of the
love which we owe to our enemies, what can we say
of those, who have not arrived so far as these, and yet
pretend to be friends ? Disdain and distance, sour
looks and sharp words, are all the expressions of friend-

302 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [DlSC. XIII
ship that some natures can manifest. I confess, where
real kindnesses are done, these circumstantial garni
tures of love (as I may so call them) may be dispensed
with ; and it is better to have a rough friend than a
fawning enemy : But those who neither do good turns,
nor give good looks, nor speak good words, have a
love strangely subtil and metaphysical : For other poor
mortals of an ordinary capacity are forced to be igno
rant of that which they can neither see, hear, feel,
nor understand. And thus much for the first negative.
The love that we are to show to enemies, is not such
a thing as may be learnt in a dancing school, nor in
those shops of dissimulation, the courts and palaces of
great men, where men's thoughts and words stand at
an infinite distance, and their tongues and minds hold
no correspondence with one another.
2. Fair promises axe not the love that our Saviour
here commands us to show our enemies. And yet
these are one step above the former : For many fair
speeches may be given, many courteous harangues ut
tered, and yet no promise made. And it is worth ob
serving, how some great ones often delude, and simple
ones suffer themselves to be deluded, by general dis
courses of courtesy. " As, take you no care, I will
provide for you. Leave your business in my hands,
and I will manage it with as much or more concern
than you could yourself. What need you insist so
much upon this or that in particular. I design better
things for you." But all this while there is no deter
minate thing promised, so as to hold such an one by
any real engagement, (supposing that his promises Avere
such,) but perhaps when the next advantage comes in
the way, the man is forgot and balked : Yet still
those general speeches hold as true as ever, and so
will continue notwithstanding all particular defeats ; as
indeed being never calculated for any thing else but to
keep up the expectation of easy persons ; to feed them
for the present, and to fail them in the issue.

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. SOS
But now as these empty, glossing words are short of
promises, so promises are equally short of performances.
Concerning both which I shall say this, that there is
no wise man, but had rather have had one promise
than a thousand fair words, and one performance than
ten thousand promises. For what trouble is it to pro
mise, what charge is it for a man to give one his word,
who never intends to give him any thing else ? and
yet according to the measures of the world, this must
sometimes pass for an high piece of love ; and many
poor, unexperienced, believing souls, who have more
honesty than wit, think themselves wrapt up into the
third heaven, and actually possessed of some notable
preferment, when they can say, / have such a great
person's promise for such and such a thing. Have
they so ? Let them see if such a promise will pay rent,
buy land, and maintain them like gentlemen. It is at
the best but a future contingent ; for either the man
may die, or his interest may fail, or his mind may
change, or ten thousand accidents may intervene.
Promises are a diet none ever yet thrived by, and a
man may feed upon them heartily, and never break his
fast. In a word, I may say of human promises, what
expositors say of divine prophecies, that they are never
understood, till they come to be fulfilled.
But how speaks the scripture of these matters ?
Why, (Rom. xii. 20.) If thine enemy hunger, feed
him; if he thirst, give him drink. It is not, promise
him meat and drink a week hence, that is, perhaps, two
days after he is dead with thirst and hunger. He who
lives only upon reversions, and maintains himself with
hope, and has nothing td cover him but the clothes of
dead men, and the promises of the living, will find just
as much relief from them, as a man in the depth of
winter feels the heat of the following summer.
But bare promises are so far from answering Christ's
precept, that if they are not realized in deeds, they be
come a plague and a calamity. For they raise an ex-

304 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII
pectation, which, unsatisfied or defeated, is the great
est of torments ; they betray a man to a fallacious de
pendence, which bereaves him of the succours of his
other endeavours, and in the issue leaves him to in
herit the misery of disappointment, and unable to say
any thing else for himself, but that he was credulous,
and the promiser false.
3. But to advance a degree yet higher, to do one or
two kind offices for an enemy, is not to fulfil the pre
cept of loving him. He who clothes a naked man
with a pair of gloves, and administers to one perishing
with thirst a drop or two of water, reaches not the
measure' of his necessity ; but instead of relieving, only
upbraids his want, and passes a jest upon his condition.
It is like pardoning a man the debt of a penny, and in
the mean time suing him fiercely for a talent. Love
is then only of value, when it deals forth benefits in a
full proportion to one's needs ; and when it shows it
self both in universality and constancy. Otherwise it
is only a trick to serve a turn, and carry on a design.
For he who would take a cleanly, unsuspected way
to ruin his adversary, must pave the way to his de
struction with some courtesies of a lighter sort, the
sense of which shall take him off from his guard, and
so lay him open to such a blow as shall destroy him at
once. The skilful rider strokes and pleases the unruly
horse, only that he may come so near him, as to get
the bit into his mouth, and then he rides, and rules,
and domineers over him at his pleasure. So he who
hates his enemy with a cunning equal to his malice,
will not strain to do this or that good turn for him, so
long as it does not thwart, but' rather promote the main
design of this utter subversion. For all this is but like
the helping a man over the stile, who is going to be
hanged, which surely is no very great piece of civility.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, we read of one
whom the grandees of the court procured to be made
secretary of state, only to break his back in the busi-

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 305
ness of the queen of Scots, whose death they were
then projecting. Like true courtiers they first engage
him in that fatal scene, and then desert him in it, using
him only as a tool to do a present state-job, and then
to be reproached and ruined for what he had done.
And a little observation of the world may show us,
there is not only a course of beheading, or hanging,
but also of preferring men out of the way. But this
is not to love an enemy, but to hate him more artifi
cially. He is ruined more speciously indeed, but not
less efficaciously, than if he had been laid fast in a dun
geon, or banished his country, or by a packed jury
despatched into another world.
II. I come now to the second general thing propos
ed ; namely, to show positively what is included in the
duty of loving our enemies.
1. A discharging the mind of all rancour and viru
lence towards an adversary. The scripture most sig
nificantly calls it the leaven of malice, and we know,
that it is of a fermenting nature, and will in time dif
fuse a sourness upon a man's whole behaviour : But
we will suppose, (which is yet seldom found,) that a
man has such an absolute command over his heart, as
for ever to stifle his disgusts, and to manage his ac
tions in a constant contradiction to his affections ; yet
all this is but the mystery of dissimulation, and to act
a part, instead of acting a friend.
Besides the trouble to the very person who thus be
haves himself. For enmity is a restless thing, and not
to be dissembled without some torment to the mind
that entertains it. It is more easily removed than cov
ered. It is as if a man should endeavour to keep the
sparks from flying out of a furnace, or as if a birth
should be stopped when it is ripe and ready for delive
ry, which surely would be a pain greater than that of
bringing forth.
He who is resolved to hate his enemy, and yet not
to show it, has turned the edge of his hatred inwards,
39

306 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
and becomes a tyrant to himself; he could not wish
his mortal adversary a greater misery, than thus to
carry a mind always swelling, and ever ready to burst,
and yet never to give it vent.
But on the other side, it is no pain for a man to ap
pear what he is, and to declare a real principle of love
in sensible demonstrations : Does a man therefore
find that both his duty and his interest require, that he
should deport himself with all signs of love to his ene
mies ? Let him but take this easy course as to enter
tain the thing in his heart, which he would mani
fest in his converse, and then he will find that his
work is as natural and easy, as it is for fire to cast
abroad a flame. Art is difficult, but whatsoever is natu
ral is easy too.
2. To love an enemy is to do him all the real offices
of kindness, that opportunity shall lay in our way.
Love is of too substantial a nature to be made up of mere
negatives, and withal too operative to terminate in
bare desires. Does Providence cast any of my ene
mies' concernments under my power ; as his health, his
estate, preferment, &c. ? Why, in all this it gives me
an opportunity to manifest, whether or no I can reach
the sublimity of this precept of loving my enemies.
Is my enemy sick, and it is in my power to cure him
as easily, or to kill him as safely, as if I were his phy
sician ? Christianity here commands me to be concern
ed for his weakness, and to rescue him from the grave ;
and in a word, to preserve that life, which, perhaps,
would have once destroyed mine.
Do I see my enemy circumvented, and like to be
undone in his estate ? I must not sit still and see him
ruined, and tell him I wish him well ; which is a con
tradiction in practice, and an impudent, ill-natured sar
casm : But I must contribute my hearty assistance to
discover the fraud and to repel the force ; and as rea
dily keep him from being poor, as relieve him if he
were. I must be as forward in the pursuit of the

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 307
thief, who stole his goods who once plundered mine,
as if the injury had lit upon my kinsman or myself.
And lastly, does it lie in my way to put in a word to
dash or promote my enemy's business or interest ? To
give him a secret blow, such a one as shall strke his
interest to the ground for ever, and he never know the
hand from whence it came ? Can I by my power ob
struct his lawful advantage and preferments, and so
reap the diabolical satisfaction of a close revenge ?
Can I do him all the mischief imaginable, and that
easily, safely, and successfully ; and so applaud myself
in my power, my wit, and my subtle contrivances, for
which the world shall court me as formidable and con
siderable ? Yet all these wretched practices and ac
cursed methods of growing great, and rising by the fall
of an enemy, are to be detested as infinitely opposite
to that innocence and clearness of spirit, that openness
and freedom from design, that becomes a professor of
Christianity. On the contrary, amidst all these opportunities of
doing mischief, I must espouse my enemy's just cause,
as his advocate. I must help it forward by favourable
speeches of his person, acknowledgment of his worth,
by a fair construction of doubtful passages ; and all
this, if need be, in secret, where my enemy neither sees
nor hears me do him these services, and consequently
where I have all the temptations to do otherwise. In
short, the gospel enjoins a greater love to our enemies,
than men, for the most part, now-a-days, show their
friends. 3. The crowning instance of our love to our ene
mies, is to pray for them. For by this a man, as it
were, acknowledges himself unable to do enough for
his enemy ; and therefore he calls in the assistance of
heaven, and engages Omnipotence to complete the
kindness. He would fain out-do himself, and finding
his own stores short, he repairs to Infinity. Prayer
for a man's self is indeed a choice duty, yet it is but a

308 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
kind of lawful and pious selfishness. For who would
not be importunate for his own concerns ? But when
I pray as heartily for my enemy, as I do for my daily
bread; when I strive with prayers and tears to make
God his friend, who himself will not be mine ; when I
reckon his felicity amongst my own necessities ; surely
this is such a love as, in a literal sense, may be said to
reach up to heaven. For nobody judges that a trivial
thing, for which he dares to pray : No man comes into
the presence of a king to beg pins. And therefore if
a man did not look upon the good of his enemy, as a
thing that nearly affected himself, he could not own it
as a matter of a petition, and endeavour to concern
God about that, with which he will not concern him
self. And upon the same ground also is inferred the
necessity of man's personal endeavouring the good of
his enemy : For prayer without endeavour is but an
affront to the throne of grace, and a lazy throwing that,
which is our own duty, upon God. As if a man should
say, God forgive you, God relieve you, for / will not.
But if to pray for an enemy be a duty, surely the man
ner in which we do it, ought to be so too ; and not
such as shall turn a supplication for him into a satyr
against him, by representing him in our prayers under
the character of one void of all grace and goodness,
and consequently a much fitter object for God's ven
geance than his mercy. And yet there was a time in
which this way of praying was in no small vogue with
a certain sort of men, who would allow neither the
gift nor spirit of prayer to any but themselves. For if at
any time they prayed for those whom they accounted
their enemies, (and that only because they had done so
much to make them so,) it could not be properly called
an interceding with God for them, but a downright in
diting and arraigning them before God, as a pack of
graceless wretches and villains, and avowed enemies
to the power and purity of the gospel. This and the
like, I say, was the devout language of their prayers,

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 309
sometimes by intimation, and sometimes by direct ex
pression : And thus under the colour of some plausible,
artificial words, it was but for them to call those
whom they maligned Antichrist, and themselves the
kingdom of Christ, and then they might very laudably
pray for the pulling down of the one, and the set
ting up of the other, and thereby no doubt answer
all the measures of a sanctified, self-denying petition.
But as those days are at an end, so it were to be
wished that such kind of praying were so too ; espe
cially since our church, I am sure, has so much cha
rity as to teach all of her communion to pray for
those, who are not only enemies to our persons, but
also to our very prayers.
And thus I have endeavoured to show, what it is
to love our enemies; though I will not say that I
have recounted all the instances in which this duty-
may exert itself. For love is infinite, and the meth
ods of its acting, innumerable. But I suppose that
I have marked out those generals, which all particu
lars may be fairly reduced to.
And now, before I proceed to the motives and ar
guments to enforce the duty, I shall, to prevent some
abuses of this doctrine, show what is not inconsis
tent with this loving our enemies ; and that is to se
cure ourselves against them. I am to love my ene
my, but not so as to hate myself: If my love to
him be a copy, I am sure the love to myself ought to
be the original. Charity is to diffuse itself abroad,
but yet it may lawfully begin at home : For the pre
cept surely is not unnatural and irrational ; nor can
it state the duty of Christians in opposition to the
privileges of men, and command us tamely to sur
render up our lives and estates as often as the hands
of violence would wrest them from us. We may love
our enemies, but are not therefore to be fond of their
enmity. And though 1 am commanded when my
enemy thirsts to give Mm drink, yet it is not when

310 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
he thirsts for my blood. It is my duty to give him
an alms, but not to let him take my estate. Princes
and governors may very well secure themselves with
laws and arms against implacable enemies for all this
precept : They are not bound to leave the state de
fenceless, against the plots and insurrections of those,
who are pleased to think themselves persecuted, if
they are not permitted to reign. We may, with
a very fair comportment with this precept, love our
enemies' persons, while we hate their principles and
counterplot their designs.
III. I come now to the last thing, viz. to assign
motives and arguments to enforce this love to our
enemy; and they shall be taken, 1. From the con
dition of our enemy's person. 2. From the excel
lency of the duty. 3. From the great examples that
recommend it; and
1 . For the first of these, if we consider our enemy,
we shall find that he sustains several capacities, which
may give him a just claim to our charitable affection.
(1.) As first he is joined with us in the community of
the same nature. He is a man ; and so far bears the im
age and superscription of our heavenly Father. He may
cease to be our friend, but he cannot cease to be our
brother. For we all descended from the same loins,
and though Esau hates Jacob, and Jacob supplants
Esau, yet they once lay in the same womb ; and there
fore the saying of Moses may be extended to all men
at variance ; Why do ye wrong one another, for ye are
brethren ? If my enemy were a snake or a viper, I
could do no more than trample upon him : But shall
I hate the seed of the woman as much as I do that of
the serpent ? We hold that God loves the most sinful
of his creatures so far as they are his creatures ; and
the very devils could not sin themselves out of an ex
cellent nature, though out of an happy condition.
Even war, which is the rage of mankind, and ob
serves no laws but its own, yet offers quarter to an

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 311
enemy ; I suppose, because enmity does not obliterate
humanity, nor wholly cancel the sympathies of nature.
For every man does, or (I am sure) he may, see some
thing of himself in his enemy, and a transcript of those
perfections for which he values himself.
And therefore those inhuman butcheries which some
men have acted upon others, stand upon record, not
only as tlie crimes of persons, but also as the reproach
of our very nature, and excusable upon no account
whatsoever, but that the persons who acted such cru
elties upon other men, first ceased to be men them
selves, and were indeed to be reckoned as so many anom
alies and exceptions from mankind ; persons of another
make or mould from the rest of the sons of Adam, and
deriving their original not from the dust, but rather
from the stones of the earth.
(2.) An enemy, notwithstanding his enmity, may be
yet the proper object of our love, because it sometimes
so falls out, that he is of the same religion with us ;
and the very business of religion is to unite, and to put,
as it were, a spiritual cognation between souls. I am
sure, this is the great purpose of the christian religion,
which never joins men to Christ, but by first joining
them amongst themselves, and making them members
one of another, as well as knitting them all to the same
head. By how much the more intolerable were our
late zealots, in their pretences to a more refined strain
of purity and converse with God ; while in the mean
time their hearts could serve them to plunder, worry, and
undo their poor brethren, only for their loyal adherence
to their sovereign, sequestering and casting whole fami
lies out of their houses and livings to starve abroad in
the wide world, against all the laws of God and man,
and who, to this day, breathe the same rage towards all
dissenters from them, should they once more get the
reforming sword into their hands. What these men's
religion may teach them, I know not, but I am sure,
it is so far from teaching them to love their enemies,

312 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
that they found their bitterest, most inveterate hatreds
only upon religion ; which has taught them first to call
their malice zeal, and then to think it their duty to be
malicious and implacable.
(3.) An enemy may be the proper object of our love,
because, though perhaps he is not capable of being
changed and made a friend by it, (which, for any thing
I know, is next to impossible,) yet he is capable of
being ashamed and rendered inexcusable. And shame
may smooth over his behaviour, though no kindness
can change his disposition ; upon which account it is,
that so far as a man shames his enemy, so far he also
disarms him. For he leaves him stript of the assis
tance and good opinion of the world round about him,
without which it is impossible for any man living to be
considerable, either in his friendship or enmities.
Love is the fire that must both heap and kindle those
coals upon our enemies' head, that shall either melt or
consume. For that man I account as good as con
sumed, whom all people, even upon the common con
cern of mankind, abhor for his ingratitude, as a pest
and a public enemy. So that if my enemy is resolved
to treat me spitefully, notAvithstanding all my endea
vours to oblige him, and if he will still revile and
rail at me, after I have employed both tongue and
hand to serve him, surely I shall by this means at
least make his virulent words recoil upon his bold
face and his foul mouth ; and so turn that stream of pub
lic detestation justly upon himself, which he was en
deavouring to bring upon me. And if I do no more,
it is yet worth while, even upon a temporal account,
to obey this precept of Christ, of loving my enemy.
And thus much for the first general argument to en
force this duty, grounded upon the condition of my
enemy's person.
2. A second motive or argument to the same, shall
be taken from the excellency of the duty itself. It
is the highest perfection that human nature can reach

Disc. XIII] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 313
unto. It is an imitation of the divine goodness, which
shines upon the heads, and rains upon the fields of
the sinful and unjust, and heaps blessings upon those,
who are busy only to heap up wrath to themselves.
To love an enemy, is to stretch humanity as far as
it will go It is an heroic action, and such an one
as grows not upon any ordinary plebeian spirit.
The excellency of the duty is sufficiently proclaim
ed by the difficulty of its practice. For how hard
is it, when the passions are high, and the sense of
an injury quick, and power ready, for a man to deny
himself in that luscious morsel of revenge ! to do vio
lence to himself, instead of doing it to his enemy ! and
to command down the strongest principles, and the
greatest heats, that usually act the soul when it exerts
itself upon such objects.
And the difficulty of such a behaviour is no less de
clared by its being so rarely observed in men. For
whom almost can we see, who opens his arms to his
enemies, or puts any other bounds to his hatred of him
but satiety or disability ? Indeed, where such a pitch
of love is found, it appears glorious and glistering in
the eyes of all, and much admired and commended it
is, but yet for the most part no otherwise than as we
see men admiring and commending some rare piece of
art, which they never intend to imitate. Nothing cer
tainly but an excellent disposition, improved by a
mighty grace, can bear a man up to this perfection.
3. The third motive or argument shall be drawn
from the great examples which recommend this duty
to us ; and first of all, from that of our blessed Saviour,
whose footsteps in the paths of love we may trace out
and follow by his own blood. He gave his life for sin
ners ; that is, for enemies, yea, and enemies, with the
highest aggravation ; for nothing can make one man
so much an enemy to another, as sin makes him an
enemy to God.
I say unto you, love your enemies, (says Christ,)
40

314 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
that is, I emphatically, I, who say it by my example
as much as by my precept. For Christ went about do
ing good, (Acts x. 38.) Yea, and he did it still in a
miracle. Every Work that he did, was equally bene
ficial and miraculous. And the place where he did
such wonders of charity was Jerusalem, a city red with
the blood of God's messengers, and paved with the
sculls of prophets ; a city which, he knew, would
shortly complete all its cruelty and impiety in his own
murder, though he was the promised and long-expect
ed Messiah. And in the prologue to this murder, his
vibleht attachment, when one of his enemies was
wounded, he bestowed a miracle upon his cure ; so ten
der was he of his mortal enemies. Like a lamb that
affords wherewithal, both to feed and clothe its very
butcher, nay, while he was actually hanging upon the
cross, he uttered a passionate prayer for the forgiveness
of his murderers ; so desirous was he, that though they
had the sole acting, yet that he himself should have the
whole feeling of their sin. In fine, now that he sits
at the right hand of his Father triumphant, from
whence he could with much more ease confound his
most daring enemies, than the most potent grandee
can crush his meanest dependants ; yet he treats them
with all the methods of patience and arts of reconcile
ment, and in a word endures, with much long suffering,
those vessels of wrath, who seem even resolved to
perish. And now, though after such an example, this sort of
argument for the loving our enemies can be carried no
higher, yet, blessed be God, that is not so Avholly ex
hausted by any one example, but that it may be carried
further ; and that by several instances, which though
they do by no means come up to a just comparison with
it, yet ought to be owned for noble imitations of it.
And such an one this happy day affords us, a day con
secrated to the solemn commemoration of the nativity
and return of a prince, who, having been most barba-

Disc. XIIL] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 315
rously driven out of his kingdoms, and afterwards as
miraculously restored to them, brought with him the
brightest and most stupendous instance of this virtue,
that, next to Avhat has been observed of our Saviour
himself, was ever yet shown by man ; Providence seem
ing to have raised up this prince, as it had done his
father before him, to give the world a glorious demon
stration, that the most injured of men might be the
most merciful of men too. For after the highest of
wrongs that a sovereign could suffer from his subjects,
scorning all revenge as more heloAV him than the very
persons whom he might have been revenged upon, he
gloried in nothing so much as in giving mercy the up
per hand of majesty itself, making .amnesty his symbol,
and forgiveness the peculiar, signalizing character of
his reign ; herein resembling the Almighty himself, (as
jfar as mortality can,) who seems to claim a greater
glpry for sparing and redeeming man, than for creating
him. So that in a word, as our Saviour has made love
to our enemies one of the chiefest badges of our reli
gion, SQ our king has almost made it the very mark of
our allegiance.
Thus even to a prodigy merciful has he shown him
self ; merciful by inclination and by extraction ; mer
ciful in his example and in his laws, and thereby
expressing the utmost dutifulness of a son, as well as
the highest magnanimity and clemency of a prince ;
while he is still making that good upon the throne,
which the royal martyr, his father, had enjoined upon
the scaffold ; where he died pardoning and praying for
those, whose malice he was then falling a victim to ;
and this with a charity so unparalleled, and a devotion
so fervent, that the voice of his prayers, 'tis to be
hoped, drowned the very cry of his blood. But I love
not to dwell upon such tragedies, save only to illustrate
the height of one contrary by the height of another ;
and therefore as an humble follower of the princely
pattern here set before us, I shall draw a veil of silence
over all ; especially since it surpasses the poAver of

316 OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. [Disc. XIII.
words sufficiently to set forth, either the greatness of
the crimes forgiven, or of the mercy that forgave them.
But to draw to a close : We have here had the high
est and the hardest duty, perhaps, belonging to a Chris
tian, both recommended to our judgment by argument,
and to our practice by example ; what remains, but
that we submit our judgment to the one, and govern
our practice by the other ? and for that purpose, that
we beg of God an assistance equal to the difficulty of
the duty enjoined ; for certainly it is not an ordinary
measure of grace, that can conquer the opposition that
flesh and blood, and corrupt reason itself, after all its
convictions, will be sure to make to it. The greatest
miseries that befal us in this world are from enemies,
and so long as men naturally desire to be happy, it will
be naturally as hard to them to love those who, they
know, are the grand obstacles to their being so. The
light of nature will convince a man of many duties,
which it will never enable him to perform. And if we
should look no further than bare nature, this seems to
be one cut out rather for our admiration than our prac
tice ; it being not more difficult (where grace does not
interpose) to cut off a right hand, than to reach it
heartily to the relief of an inveterate, implacable ad
versary. And yet God expects this from us, and that
so peremptorily, that he has made the pardon of our
enemies the indispensable condition of our own. And
therefore that wretch (whosoever he was) who, being
pressed hard upon his death-bed to pardon a notable
enemy which he had, answered, that if he died indeed,
he pardoned him, but if he lived he would be revenged
on him ; that wretch, I say, and every other such image
of the devil, no doubt, went out of the world so, that
he had better never have come into it. In fine, after
we have said the utmost upon this subject that we can,
I believe we shall find this the result of all, that
he is an happy man who has no enemies, and he a much
happier, Avho has never so many, and can pardon them.

DISCOURSE XIV.

THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE.

ECCLBS. i. 18.
In much wisdom there is much grief: and he that
increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.
It is a saying usual, and of great reason, that we
are to believe the skilful in their own profession. And
therefore, if we would understand the nature, proper
ties, and effects of knowledge, none can be so fit to
inform us, as he, who by the very verdict of omnis
cience, was, of all men, the most knowing.
Nothing, indeed, is more common than for every
man almost to pass an universal censure upon all per
sons and things ; but none can despise a thing, ration
ally, but he who knows it thoroughly. Otherwise,
though a man should pass a right judgment upon a
thing, yet he does it only by accident ; and therefore,
though the thing spoke be truth and wisdom, yet the
speaker of it utters it like a fool. None but a scholar can
be a competent judge of knowledge; and therefore all
the encomiums of it, that now fly about the world, must
come and be tried according to the verdict of this rule.
First, therefore, we shall find those that are loud
est in their commendations, and highest in their ad
mirations of learning, are, for the most part, such as
were never bred to it themselves : Hence it is, that
such, of all others, are the most desirous to breed their
sons scholars ; so that if we take a list of the most re-

318 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV.
nowned philosophers in former ages, and the most emi
nent divines in the latter, we shall find that they were,
for the most part, of mean and plebeian parentage.
Upon this score also there came to be so many free
schools and endowed places for learning ; because those
are most apt to send their children to study, who, be
ing poor and low, are not able to maintain them in it,
and therefore need the benevolence of others, to bring
their imprudent designs to maturity. Let this there
fore be fixed upon, as one great reason that the praise
of knowledge is so great in the world, viz. that much
the major part of the world is ignorant ; and ignorant
men are indeed very fit to praise and admire, but very
unfit to judge.
1 am not insensible that many will here presently be
apt to stop me with those elogies that the most learn
ed bestow upon knowledge, still adorning it with such
panegyrics, such high words and expressions, as if
rhetoric was invented for nothing else but to describe
and set off her praise. But, in answer to this, though
I might note, that to be learned and to be wise are
things very different, yet I shall produce another rea
son of these commendations, which, in all probability,
is this ; that learned men would not seem and be
judged fools, for spending their time upon so empty a
thing ; and therefore, as those that have been deceived
into a ridiculous sight, do yet commend it, that they
may not be thought to have been deceived, but may
bring others into the same cheat with themselves.
So here, should philosophers confess, that all the
time they spent about materia prima, esse per se, and
esse per accidens, they were laboriously doing nothing,
the world would be apt to hiss and to explode them, and
others would be so wise, as seeing the example, to
forbear the imitation. But now, when a man finds
himself to be really deceived, the only relief that re
mains to him is to cover the report of it, and to get
companions in the deception.

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 319
If what has been hitherto said, does not satisfy,
I can only take sanctuary in this ; that the same was
Solomon's judgment ; and I desire to know, whether
those philosophers, who so profusely commend learn
ing, knew more than he, and saw that worth in know
ledge which he did ? As for Aristotle, who for these
many ages has carried the repute of philosophy from
all the rest, he certainly was not wiser than Solomon ;
for he is reported to have stolen most of his philosophy
out of Solomon's writings, and to have suppressed them
from the view of posterity.
I proceed therefore, and take up my assertion upon
the warrant of his judgment, whom God has hitherto
vouched the wisest of men ; and see no reason to alter
it, till I am convinced by a wiser.
But, before I make any further progress, I must pre
mise this ; any thing indeed said against knowledge, is
against that only, that is so much adored by the world,
and falsely called philosophy, and yet more significant
ly surnamed by the apostle vain philosophy ; and that
too, with no other intent than to dash the over-ween
ing pride of those that have it, and to divert the admi
ration of those that have it not, to some better and
more deserving object.
But as for those parts of knowledge, that are either
instrumental to our knowledge of the will of God, or
conduce to the good of society, in the state that man
kind now is, I must not be thought therefore to speak
against them, if from the text I impartially show those
miseries and sorrows, that through our sin and weak
ness they are attended with. It is the effect of sin,
that duty is accompanied with sorrow ; and that by
such an unfortunate necessity of grief, we cannot at
tain the happiness we design to ourselves in the end,
unless for a time we quit it in the use of the means.
Now, the design of this portion of scripture is to
rectify the absurd opinions of the world, concerning
the great idol of mankind, knowledge ; and to take

320 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV-
down their excessive estimation of it, by showing that
it is the cause, or at least the inseparable companion
of sorrow. And, in prosecution of the words, I shall
demonstrate it to be so in these three respects : I. Of
the nature and properties of the thing itself. II. Of
the laborious acquisition of it. III. Of its effects and
consequents. I. First of all then, knowledge is the parent of sor
row from its very nature, as being the instrument and
means by Avhich the afflicting quality of the object is
conveyed to the mind ; for as nothing delights, so
nothing troubles till it is known. The merchant is
not troubled as soon as his ship is cast away, but as
soon as he hears it is.
The affairs and objects that wre converse with, have
most of them a fitness to afflict and disturb the mind.
And as the colours lie dormant, and strike not the eye,
till the light actuates them into a visibility, so those
afflictive qualities never exert their sting till knowledge
displays them, and slides them into the apprehension.
Nihil scire, vita jucundissima est. It is the empty
vessel that makes the merry sound ; which is evident
from those whose intellectuals are ruined with phrensy
or madness ; who so merry, so free from the lash of
care ? their understanding is gone, and so is their
trouble. It is the philosopher that is pensive, that looks down
wards in the posture of the mourner. It is the open
eye that weeps.
Aristotle affirms, that there was never a great scholar
in the world, but had in his temper a dash and mixture
of melancholy ; and if melancholy be the temper of
knowledge, we know that it is also the complexion of
sorrow, the scene of mourning and affliction.
Solomon could not separate his wisdom from vexa
tion of spirit. We are first taught our knowledge with
the rod, and with the severities of discipline. We get
it with some smart, but improve it Avith more.

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 321
The world is full of objects of sorrow, and knoAV-
ledge enlarges our capacities to take them in. None
but the wise man can know himself to be miserable.
I- might now, from the nature of knowledge, pass to
the properties of it, and show its uncertainty, its poor
ness, and utter inability to contribute any thing to the
solid enjoyments of life. But before I enter upon this,
there may be a question started, whether or no there
be indeed any such thing as true knowledge in the
world ? for there want not reasons that seem to insin
uate that there is none.
As, 1st. Because knowledge, if true, is upon that
score certain and infallible ; but the certainty of the
knowledge cannot be greater than the certainty of the
faculty or medium by which it is acquired : Noav all
knowledge is conveyed through sense, and sense is
subject to err, and to be imposed upon. For how of
ten does our eye tell us that the trees and the banks
run, and that the ship or the coach stands still ? How
does it abridge the sun to the compass of a few spans,
to a small ignoble circumference ? It follows therefore,
that we cannot be assured of the truth of that know
ledge that commences upon the fallible report of sense,
indeed no more than we can be certain that a thing is
true, because a known liar has affirmed it.
2dly, Knowledge is properly the apprehension of a
thing by its cause ; but the causes of things are not
certainly known : this by most is confessed, but may
be proved without confession ; for since none ever as
signed a certain cause of any effect, but that others,
with the same probability, have assigned a clear differ
ent cause, it is most evident, that we do not certainly
know the causes of things, and consequently neither
the things themselves.
3dly, To know a thing is to apprehend it as really
it is, but we apprehend things only as they appear ; so
that all our knowledge may properly be defined, the
apprehension of appearances. But now it is undeni-
41

322 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV.
able, that things oftentimes appear otherwise than they
are ; and when they do appear as indeed they are, yet
there is no certain rule to discern that they do so.
Other arguments might be brought to show, that it
is not without cause that there is such a sect of men
as sceptics in the world. And though I will not say,
that these arguments prove that there is no such thing
as knowledge, yet thus much, at least, they seem to
prove, that we cannot be assured that there is any such
thing. -But you will reply, that this overthrows the hypothe
sis of the text, which takes it for granted that there is
such a thing as knowledge. I answer, it does not :
for the arguments proceed against knowledge, strictly
and accurately so taken ; but the text speaks of it in a
popular way, of that which the world commonly esteems
knowledge. And that this is but a poor, worthless thing, of no
efficacy to advance the real concerns of human happi
ness, might be made most evident.
For, first, it is certain that knowledge does not either
constitute or alter the condition of things, but only
transcribe the face of nature as it finds it ; and there
fore is but a low, ignoble thing, and differs as much
from nature itself, as he that only reports great things
from him that does them. If I should run through the
whole series of sciences, from top to bottom, I am sure
I could verify this assertion.
For what am I, or any one else, the better, whether
God foresees future contingents from the determina
tion and decree of his will, or from the infinite actuality
of his nature, by which his existence is before-hand
with all future duration ?
What am I concerned, whether he punishes sin by
the necessary egress of his vindictive justice, or by a
freedom of choice ?
Of what such great necessity is it to know, whether
Christ intended his death for all mankind, or only for

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 323
a select company ? when it is certain on both sides,
that the benefit of his death is offered conditionally to
all those, and only to those, who shall believe ; and
that upon either supposition, whosoever believes shall
be saved.
And to descend to things of an inferior nature. What
is it to me, whether the will has a power to determine
itself, or is determined by objects from without ? Avhen
it is certain, that those here that hold a different
opinion, yet continue in the same course of action.
Is any use of human life served by the knowledge
of this, whether the vegetative, sensitive, and rational
soul in man, be three distinct souls, or only three de
nominations, from three distinct operations issuing from
the same soul ?
Or am I any ways advantaged, whether the soul
wills, understands, and performs the rest of its actions
by faculties distinct from itself, or immediately by its
own substance ?
Is it of any moment, whether the soul of man comes
into the world with carnal notions, or whether it comes
bare, and receives all from the after-reports of sense ?
What am I benefitted, whether the sun moves about
the earth, or whether the sun is the center of the
world, and the earth is indeed a planet, and wheels
about that ? Whether it be one or the other, I see no
change in the course of nature. Day and night keep
the same order ; winter and summer observe the same
returns ; our fruit ripens as soon under one hypothesis
as under the other ; and the day begins no sooner, nor
stays any longer, with Ptolemy than with Copernicus.
Or what am I bettered, whether all motion is per
formed by faculties, powers, or inherent qualities ; or
in a mechanical way, by the impulse of one body upon
another, the greater overcoming and moving the less ?
Who in the world finds any change in his affairs,
whether there be little vacuities in the air, or whether
there is no space, but what is filled up with body ?

324 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Di.SC. XIV-
What am I altered, whether colour be a quality
emergent from the different contemperature of the ele
ments, or only the reflection of the light upon the dif
ferent situation of the parts of the body ?
I could reckon up an hundred more such problems
as these, about an inquiry into which men are so labo
rious, and in a supposed resolution of which they so
much boast ; which shows, that that which passes with
the Avorld for knowledge, is but a slight, trivial thing ;
and that men's being so eager in the quest of it, is like
sweeping the house, raising the dust, and keeping a
great ado only to find pins.
II. Pass we now to show, how that knowledge is
the cause of sorroAv, in respect of the troublesome ac
quisition of it. For is there any labour comparable to
that of the brain ? any toil like a continual digging in
the mines of knowledge ? any pursuit so dubious and
difficult as that of truth ? any attempt so sublime as to
give a reason of things ?
When a man must be led a long trace, from the ef
fect up to an hidden, remote cause, and then back
again, take a survey of the several virtues and active
qualities of that cause, in its numerous effects :
Will an ordinary industry be able to break open
those rarities that God and nature has locked up, and
set out of the reach of a vulgar endeavour ! how hard
is it to draw a principle into all its consequences,
and to unravel the mysterious fertility but of one
proposition !
A man must be always engaged in difficult specu
lation, and endure all the inconveniences that attend
it; which indeed are more and greater than attend
any other sort of life Avhatsoever.
The soldier, it is confessed, converses with dan
gers, and looks death in the face ; but then he bleeds
with honour, he grows pale gloriously, and dies with
the same heat and fervor that gives life to others.
But he does not, like the scholar, kill himself in

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 325
cold blood ; sit up and watch when there is no enemy ;
and, like a silly fly, buz about his own candle till he
has consumed himself.
Then again ; the husbandman who has the toil of
soAving and reaping, he has his reward in his very la
bour ; and the same corn that employs, also fills his
hand. He who labours in the field indeed wearies,
but then he also helps and preserves his body.
But study, it is a weariness without exercise, a la
borious sitting still, that wracks the inward, and de
stroys the outAvard man ; that sacrifices health to con
ceit, and clothes the soul with the spoils of the body ;
and, like a stronger blast of lightning, not only meets
the sword, but also consumes the scabbard.
Nature allows men a great freedom, and never gave
an appetite but to be an instrument of enjoyment ; nor
made a desire, but in order to the pleasure of its satis
faction. But he that will increase knowledge, must
be content not to enjoy; and not only to cut off the
extravagancies of luxury, but also to deny the lawful
demands of convenience, to forswear delight, and look
upon pleasure as his mortal enemy.
He must call that study, that is indeed confinement ;
he must converse with solitude, walk, eat, and sleep
thinking, read volumes, devour the choicest authors,
and (like Pharaoh's kine) after he has devoured all,
look lean and meagre. He must be willing to be
weak, sickly, and consumptive ; even to forget when
he is an hungry, and to digest nothing but what he
reads. He must read much, and perhaps meet with little ;
turn over much trash for one grain of truth ; study an
tiquity till he feels the effects of it ; and, like the cock
in the fable, seek pearls in a dunghill, and perhaps rise
to it as early. This is,
Esse quod Arcesilas cerumnosique Solones :
To be always wearing a meditating countenance, to ru
minate, mutter, and talk to a man's self, for want of bet-

326 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV.
ter company ; in short, to do all those things, which in
other men are counted madness, but in a scholar pass
for his profession.
We may take a view of all those callings, to which
learning is necessary, and we shall find that labour and
misery attend them all. And first, for the study of
physic : Do not many lose their own health, while
they are learning to restore it to others ? Do not many
shorten their days, and contract incurable diseases, in
the midst of Galen and Hippocrates ? get consump
tions amongst receipts and medicines, and die while
they are conversing with remedies ?
Then for the law : Are not many called to the grave,
while they are preparing for a call to the bar ? Do
they not grapple with knots and intricacies, perhaps
not so soon dissolved as themselves ? Do not their
bodies wither and decay, and, after a long study of the
law, look like an estate that has passed through a long
suit in law ?
But, above all, let the divine here challenge the
greatest share ; who, if he takes one in ten in the
profit, I am sure, may claim nine in ten in the labour.
'Tis one part of his business, indeed, to prepare others
for death ; but the toil of his function is like to make
the first experiment upon himself.
People are apt to think this an easy work, and that
to be a divine is nothing else but to wear black, to look
severely, and to speak confidently for an hour ; but
confidence and propriety is not all one ; and if we fix
but upon this one part of his employment, as easy as it
seems to be,
Expertus multum sudes, multumque labores.
But the divine's office spreads itself into infinite other
occasions of labour ; and, in those that reach the ut
most of so great a profession, it requires depth of
knowledge, as well as heights of eloquence.
To sit and hear is easy, and to censure what we
have heard, much easier. But whatsoever his perform-

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 327
ance is, it inevitably puts us upon an act of religion ;
if good, it invites us to a profitable hearing ; if other
wise, it inflicts a short penance, and gives an opportu
nity to the virtue of patience.
But, in sum, to demonstrate and set forth the divine's
labour, I shall but add this, that he is the only person
to whom the whole economy of Christianity gives no
cessation, nor allows him so much as the sabbath for a
day of rest.
III. Knowledge increases sorrow, in respect of its
effects and consequents ; in three of which I shall give
instance. 1. The first effect of the increase of knowledge, is
an increase of the desire of knowledge. It is the
covetousness of the understanding, the dropsy of the
soul, that drinks itself a-thirst, and grows hungry with
surfeit and satisfaction ; it is the only thing in which
reason itself is irrational.
Now, an endless desire does of necessity vex and
torment the person that has it. For misery and vexa
tion is properly nothing else but an eager appetite not
satisfied. He that is always a getting, is always looking upon
himself as in want. And he that is perpetually desir
ing to know, is perpetually thinking of himself as igno
rant ; namely, in respect of those things that he desires
to know.
In fine, happiness is fruition ; but there is no frui
tion where there is a constant desire. For enjoyment
swallows up desire, and that which fulfils the expecta
tion also ends it.
But while desire is active, and the mind is still a crav
ing and reaching at somewhat, it supposes our happiness
to be at a distance ; for no man reaches after what he
has already.
The bottomless appetite of knowledge will not be
satisfied, and then we know that sorrow is the certain
result, and inseparable companion of dissatisfaction.

328 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV.
2. The second unhappy effect of knowledge is, that
it rewards its followers with the miseries of poverty,
and clothes them with rags. Reading of books con
sumes the body, and buying of them, the estate.
The mind of man is a narrow thing, and cannot
master several employments ; it is wholly employed,
whether in the pursuit of riches, or in the quest of
learning, and no man grew either rich or learned mere
ly by the diversion of his spare hours.
He therefore that buries his strength, his thoughts,
his opportunities, in a book, can he possibly be rich,
unless Providence itself should trade for him, the Ex
change follow him, and the Indies travel to him ? but
certainly these would be vain expectations. The east
now-a-days affords no such wise men, that will take a
long journey only to make presents, and to give of
their gold and their treasures.
Hence it is that the philosopher, omnia sua secum
portat ; he numbers no flocks, tells no acres of ground,
has no change of raiment, and is not solicitous which,
but what he shall put on : He never aspires to any
purchase, unless perhaps of some dead man's study ;
at the same time buying the relics of another's death,
and the instruments of his own.
Hereupon he is put to the worst, and the most dis
couraging of all miseries, which is, to be beholden and
obliged. For what was Aristotle without his Alexan
der ? Virgil without Augustus? Horace without Me-
ccenas ? and other poets, like their own wreaths of
joy, they were always creeping about something for a
support. A scholar without a patron is insignificant.
He must have something to lean upon. He is like an
unhappy cause, always depending.
We read of the prophet's accommodation and furni
ture in the house of the Shunamite, (2 Kings iv. 10.)
A little chamber, a table, a stool, and a candlestick ;
and perhaps, if he had lived there for any consider
able time, he would have been reckoned not so much

Disc. XIV.] THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. 329
one of the inhabitants, as part of the furniture of the
house. These are the happy effects of study and knowledge ;
and as most kinds of study hinder men from getting
estates, so there are some that cannot be undertook
without an estate, nor long pursued without the loss of
it. As for instance ; he that follows chemistry, must
have riches to throw away upon the study of it ; what
ever he gets by it, those furnaces must be fed with
gold. In short, I will not say, that the study of know
ledge always finds men poor, but sure it is, that 'tis
seldom or never but it leaves them so.
3. The third fatal effect of knowledge is, that it
makes the person wrho has it the butt of envy, the
mark of obloquy and contention. Whoever sees anoth
er more knowing than himself, he presently thinks him
a reproach to his understanding : and although he him
self will not undergo the labour of knowledge, yet he
will not allow another the fame.
Hence come all the jars between learned men, the
invectives and bitter books, the wars of critics, and
the controversies of the schools, all managed with such
keenness and virulence, throwing dirt, and disgorging
daggers at one another's reputation ,-* for no other in
jury in the world, but because the adverse party is
thought to know more.
As Grotius, in one of his poems, speaking of know
ledge, and the invidiousness of it, not inelegantly ex
presses it,
Quam nil sit illud quod vocamus his scire,
Quo nos superbi tollimus caput ccelo.
Calcamus alios, invicemque calcamur.
To trample, and to be trampled upon ; to write, and
to be writ against, is the lot and effect of learning, as
it lies under the malign aspect of a constant emulation.
Now one would think that envy, which like fire as
pires as well as consumes, and always strikes high,
should not prey upon a poor threadbare philosopher.
42

330 THE EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE. [Disc. XIV.
Yet if a man ventures but out of the old road, and
attempts to enlarge the borders of philosophy, by the
introduction of some new method, or the discovery of
some new phenomena in nature, what a tragical outcry
is presently raised against him, all the world pecking
at him, and about his ears !
How are Galileo and Copernicus persecuted, and
Descartes worried by almost every pen ! Dreadful are
the censures thundered out against them, both from
the press and the pulpit, especially by those puny, sys
tematical theologues, whose philosophy never went
beyond Keckerman, nor their divinity beyond Wolle
bius, and who would have all things new in the church,
but nothing in the schools.
Thus must a man spend his fortune, consume his
time, and rack his brain, and all to produce some
birth that is like to be devoured as soon as born ; to
have his labours stifled or trod upon, his knowledge
railed down, and his person exposed to the violence of
those who are never witty but in their malice.
And iioav, if this be our lot, what remains for us to
determine upon ? Is there no way to get out of this
unhappy dilemma, but that we must needs either dash
upon the sorrows of knowledge, or the baseness of ig
norance ? Why, yes, there is a fair escape left us ;
for God has not placed mankind under a necessity
either of sin or misery. And therefore, as to the mat
ter in hand, it is only to continue our labour, but
to alter the scene of it ; and to make him, that is, the
great Author, also the subject of our knowledge. For
though there is a vanity and dissatisfaction in the
knowledge of created, inferior objects, yet we are as
sured that it is life eternal to know God, and whom he
has sent, his Son, Christ Jesus.

DISCOURSE XV.
OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES
ECCLES. vii. 10.

Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days
were better than tJiese ? for thou dost not enquire
wisely concerning this.
In the days of Solomon, when Jerusalem was the
glory of the whole earth ; when it flourished as the
metropolis not only of religion, but of the riches of the
world ; when gold was made as common as silver, and
silver as the stones of the street, (so that its inhabi
tants might even tread upon that, which so much com
manded the hearts of others ;) when their exchequer
was full, and their fleets at Ophir ; when religion was
established, and the changing ambulatory tabernacle
fixed into a standing temple; and all crowned with
peace after the afflictions and wars of David ; when
they flowed with plenty, and were governed with wis
dom : yet, after all, the text here gives us a clear inti
mation, that plenty passed into surfeit, fullness into
loathing, loathing into discontent, and that (as it al
ways happens) into Complaints of the Times, viz.
That former days were better than these.
When yet, upon a small reflection backward, we
have the calendar of the former times red, with the
bloody house of Saul, with the slaughter of the priests,
and with the rebellions of Shebah and Absalom ; noth
ing but tumults, and changes ; a,nd yet, jn the verdict

332 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XV,
of folly and faction, present enjoyments did so far en
dear fomer calamities, as to give them pre-eminence
in the comparison.
But we see, there may be folly even in Israel ; and
if they were all of this mind, Solomon may justly seem
to have monopolized all the wisdom to himself. We
have him here chastising the sottishness of this inqui
ry : indeed the fittest person to encounter this excep
tion, as being a king, and so able to control, being a
preacher and so able to confute it ; furnished with
power for the one, and with wisdom for the other.
This is therefore the design of the words, to silence
this malecontented inquiry ; and supposing it to carry
in it, its own confutation, he confutes it not by argu
ment but reproof ; not as a doubtful problem, but as a
foolish question ; and certainly the case must needs be
carried, where the fool makes the question, and the
wisest of men gives the answer.
The matter in controversy is, the pre-eminence of
the former times above the present ; when we must
observe, that though the words run in the form of a
question, yet they include a positive assertion, and a
downright censure.
The inquiry being determined before it was pro
posed, now the charge of folly here laid upon it, may
relate to the supposition upon Avhich it is founded in a
threefold respect, viz. I. Of a peremptory negation,
as a thing absolutely to be denied that former times
are better than the following. II. As- a case very dis
putable, whether they are so or no. III. As admitting
the supposition for true, that really they bear away the
pre-eminence. Yet in every one of these three most different re
spects, this inquiry ought to be exploded as absurd*
impertinent, and irrational.
I. And first, it is ridiculous to ask, why former times
are better than the present, if really they are not bet
ter, and so the very supposition itself proves false ; this

Disc. XV.] OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. 333
is too apparently manifest to be matter of dispute, and
if it is false, we shall endeavour to evince in the ensu
ing discourse ; but before I enter upon the proof, this
one observation must be premised.
That time is said to be good or bad, not from any
such quality inherent in itself, but by external denom
ination from the nature of those things, that do subsist
in such a space of time. Time is the great vehicle of
nature, not only for its swift passage and career, but
because it carries in it the system of the world, fiom
one stage of duration to another.
Now the world may be considered either in its nat
ural or moral perfections. Some hold that for the
former there is a continual diminution, an insensible
decay in nature, things growing less and less, the very
powers and faculties of them being weakened and
shrunk ; and the vital spirit, or humid um radicale that
God first infused into the great body of the universe
being much exausted, so that now, in every following
age, the lamps of heaven burn dimmer and dimmer, till,
at length, they dwindle into nothing, and so go out
of themselves.
But, that this cannot be so, is clear from these rea
sons. 1. Because the ancientest histories generally
describe things in the same posture heretofore that we
find them noAV. 2. That admitting the most undis-
cernable degree of diminution, even to but one remove
from none at all, the world, in the space of six thou
sand years, which date it almost now bears, by the
continuance but of that small proportion of change,
would have sunk even to nothing, or the smallness of
an atom. 3. This will make the final annihilation of
the world a mere effect of nature, and not of God's
supernatural' power, and so the consequent of it is ir
religious. Wherefore it being sure that the whole fabrick of
the world stands in the same vigour and perfection of
nature, which it had at first, we come next to that in

334 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XV.
which we are now most concerned, to see whether or
no it be impaired and sunk in its moral perfections,
and what is the consequent of that, in political.
We have here an aphorism of Horace much inculcat
ed. Terra malos homines nunc educat atque pusillos.
But poetry never yet went for argument : and, perhaps,
he might speak this, being conscious of his own man
ners, and reflecting upon his own stature. But that
in the descent of succeeding generations, the following
are not still the worse, I thus evince.
1. By Reason : because there were the same objects
to work upon men, and the same dispositions and in
clinations in men to be wrought upon before, that there
are now. " All the affairs of the world are the births,
and issues of men's actions ; and all actions come from
the meeting and collision of faculties with suitable ob
jects. There Avere then the same incentives of de
sire on the one side, the same attractiveness in riches,
the same relish in sovereignty, the same temptation in
beauty, the same delicacy in meats and tastes in wines ;
and, on the other side, there were the same appetites
ofcovetousness and ambition, the same fuel of lust and
intemperance. And these are the wheels upon which the whole vis
ible scene of affairs, ethic and politic, turns. The busi
ness of the world is imitation, and that which we call
novelty, is nothing but repetition. The figure and mo
tion of the world is circular, and experience no less than
mathematicks will evince, that as it turns round, the
same part must be often in the same place : one age
indeed goes before another : but precedency is not al
ways pre-eminence, and it is not unusual for a worse
to go before a better, and for the servant to ride before
and lead the way to his master.
2. But the same may be proved by History, and the
records of antiquity ; and he who would give it the ut
most proof that it is capable of from this topic, must
speak volumes, and preach libraries, bring' a century

Disc. XV.] OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. 335
within a line, and an age into every period. But what
need we go any further than the noblest and yet the
nearest piece of antiquity, the Book of Moses.
Is the wickedness of the old world forgot, that Ave
so aggravate the tempest of this ? Was it destroyed
with Avaters of oblivion ? and has the deluge clean over
whelmed itself ? In those days there were giants in sin,
as well as sinners of the largest size and proportion.
And to take the world in a lower epoch, what after
age could exceed the lust of the Sodomites, the idola
try and tyranny of the Egyptians, the fickle levity of
the Grecians ? and that monstrous mixture of all base
ness in the Roman Neros, Calligulas, and Domi-
tians, emperors of the world, and slaves to their
vice ?
And for the very state of Israel, in which this envi
ous inquiry was first commenced, was that worse in
Canaan, under the shadow and protection of a native
royalty, than under the old servitude of Egypt ? Was
their present condition so bad, that while Solomon
was courting Pharoah's daughter they should again
court his yoke ? woo their old slavery, and solicit a
match with their former bondage. Was it so delight
ful a condition, to feed Pharoah's cattle^ and to want
straw themselves? instead of one prince, toiiavemany
task- masters ? and to pay excise with their backs to
maintain the tyrant's janisaries, and to feed their tor
mentors ? But, it seems, being in a land flowing with
honey, they were cloyed Avith that, and so loathing the
honey, they grew in love with the sting.
But to bring the subject to our own doors ; ifwe would
be convinced that former ages are not always better than
the following, I suppose we need not much rack our
memories for a proof from experience.
I conceive the state of the Christian Church also
may come within the compass of our present discourse.
Take it in its infancy, and with the properties of infan
cy, it was weak and naked, vexed with poverty, torn

336 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XV.
wdth persecution, and infected Avith heresy. It began
the breach with Simon Magus, continued it with Arius,
Nestorius, Eutyches, some rending her doctrine, some
her discipline ; and, what are the heresies that now
trouble it, but new editions of the old with further
gloss and enlargement ? What is Socinus, but Photinus
and Pelagius blended and joined together, in a third
composition ? What are our separatists and purity-pre
tending schismaticks, but the tame brood and successors
of the Donatists ? only Avith this difference, that they
had their head-quarters in Meridie, in the southern
parts of the world, whereas ours seem to be derived
to us from the north. These, I thought, had put it
out of dispute, that no succeeding age of the church
could have been worse : and, I think, the assertion
might have stood firm, had not some late instances of
our own age made it disputable.
But as for those, who clamour of the corruptions of
our present church, and are so earnest to reduce us to
the primitive model ; if they mean the primitive truth,
and not rather the primitive nakedness of it only, we
know this, for doctrine and discipline, it is the very
transcript of antiquity. But if their design be to make
us like the primitive Christians, by driving us into
caves, and holes, and rocks ; to tear down temples and
to make the sanctuary itself fly for refuge ; to bring
beasts into churches, and to send churchmen into dens ;
at the same time to make men beggars and to take
away hospitals ; it is but reason to desire, that they
would first begin and exemplify this reformation in
themselves ; and, like the old Christians, with want
and poverty, wander about in sheep-skins and goat
skins ; though, if they should, that is not presently a
sheep that wears the skin, nor would the sheep's cloth
ing change the nature of the wolf.
I conclude therefore, that all these pompous decla
mations against the evil of the present times, set off
by odious comparisons with the former, are the voice

Disc. XV.] OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. 337
of error and envy, of the worst of judges, malice and
mistake : Though I cannot wonder if those assert af
fairs to be out of order, whose interest and desire it is
to be once more a reforming.
And thus much for the first consideration of the sup
positions, as a thing false and to be denied.
II. I shall now remit a little of this, and take it in
a lower respect ; as a case disputable, whether the
preceding or succeeding generations are to be prefer
red ; and here I shall dispute the matter on both sides.
And First, for antiquity we may plead thus. Cer
tainly every thing is purest in the fountain, and most
untainted in the original. The dregs are still the most
likely to settle in the bottom, and to sink into the last
ages. The world cannot but be the worse for wear
ing ; and it must needs have contracted much dross,
when at the last it cannot be purged but by an univer
sal fire.
Things are most fresh and fragrant in their begin
ning. The first-born is the most honourable, and it is
primogeniture that entitles to the inheritance : 'Tis not
present possessions, but an early pedigree, that gives
nobility. The older the world grows, the more decrepid it
must be ; for age bows the body and so causes an ob
liquity : Every course of time leaves its mark behind
it ; and every century adds a wrinkle to the face of
nature. As for knowledge, the former age still teaches the
latter ; and which is likely to be most knowing, he
that teaches or he that is taught ? The most compen
dious way of attaining wisdom is, the reading of histo
ries, but history speaks not of the present time but of
the former.
Besides, it was only the beginning of time that saw
men innocent. Sin, like other things, receives growth
by time, and improves by continuance ; and every suc
ceeding age has the bad example of one age more than
43

338 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XV.
the former. The same candle that refreshes when it
is first lit, smells and offends when it is going out.
In the alphabet of nature, it is only the first letter
that is flourished. In short, there is as much differ
ence between the present and former times, as there
is between a copy and an original ; that indeed may
be fair, but this only is authentic. And be a copy
never so exact, yet still it shines with a borrowed per
fection, and has but the low praise of an imitation :
And this may be said in behalf of the former times.
But Secondly, for the pre-eminence of the succeed
ing ages above the former, it may be diputed thus.
If the honour be due to antiquity, then certainly the
present age must claim it, for the world is now oldest,
and therefore upon the very right of seniority may
challenge precedency ; for certainly, the longer the
world lasts, the older it grows. And if wisdom ought
to be respected, we know that it is the offspring of ex
perience, and experience the child of age.
In every action, it is not the beginning, but the end
that is regarded : It is still the issue that crowns the
work, and the amen that seals the petition : The plau-
dite is given to the last act : And Christ reserved the
best wine to conclude the feast ; nay, a fair beginning
would be but the aggravation of a bad end.
And if we plead original, we know that sin is strong
est in its original ; and we are taught Avhence to date
that. The lightest things float at the top of time, but
if there be such a thing as a golden age, its mass must
needs sink it to the bottom and concluding ages of the
world. By having the histories of former ages, we have all
their advantages by way of overplus, besides the proper
advantages of our oAvn ; and so standing upon their
shoulders, or rather upon their heads, cannot but have
the further prospect.
Though the flourish begins the line, yet it is the pe
riod that makes the sins. As for the infirmities of age,

Disc. XV.] OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. 339
we confess that men grow decrepid by time, but man
kind does not. Policy, arts, and manufactures im
prove, and nature itself, as well as others, cannot be
an artist, till it has served its time.
And, in religious matters, for the church, we know
that it is Christ's body, and therefore its most natural,
commending property is growth ; and if it had had its
greatest perfection at the first, growth would have been
impossible. ' Besides, we confess, that prophecy was a thing ap
propriate to the first days of the church : but then it
is not prophecy spoken, but fulfilled ; not the promise
made but performed, which conveys the blessing ; and
though the giving of prophecies were the glory of the
first times, yet their completion is the privilege of the
latter. But, do we not see all this while, that by thus as
cribing the pre-eminence to former ages, we tacitly re
flect upon the great Maker and Governor of the uni
verse ? for can Omnipotence be at a stand ? is God
exhausted ? and is nature the only thing which makes
bo progress ? God has made all things in motion, and
the design of motion is a further perfection.
In sum, it was the fulness of time which brought
Christ into the world ; Christianity was a reserve for
the last : And it was the beginning of time which was
infamous for man's fall and ruin : So, in scripture,
they are called the last days and the ends of the world
which are ennobled with his redemption.
But, lastly, if the following ages were not the best,
whence is it, that the older men grow, the more still
they desire to live ? — Now such things as these may
be disputed in favour of the latter times beyond the
former. Having here brought the matter to this poise, to this
equilibrium, that reflexive inquiry in the text concern
ing the worth of former times above the present, is
eminently unreasonable in these two respects.

340 OF COMPLAINTS 0$ THE TIMES. [Disc. XV.
1. In respect of the nature of the thing itself; which
we have seen is equally propendent to both parts, and
not discernable which way the balance inclines ; and
nothing can be more irrational, than to be dogmatical
in things doubtful ; and to determine where wise men
only dispute.
2. In respect of the incompetence of any man living
to be judge in this controversy : And he that is unfit
to judge, I am sure, is unable to decide. Now that in
competence arises from this ; that no man can judge
rightly of two things, but by comparing them together,
and compare them he cannot unless he exactly knew
them both. But how can he know former ages, un
less, according to the opinion of Plato or Pythagoras,
he might exist so many centuries before he was born ?
But you will reply, that he may know them by the
histories of those that writ of their own times.
To this I answer, that history may be justly suspect
ed partial ; and that historians report the virtues of
their own age, selected and abstracted from the vices
and defects ; and if sometimes they mention the vices
also, (as they do,) yet they only report the smaller,
that they may with less suspicion conceal the greater.
Now it is an unequal comparison to compare the select
virtues of one age, with both the virtues and the vices
of another.
, History, stript of partiality, would be a poor, thin,
meagre thing, and the volume would shrink into the
index. / conclude therefore, that he who would de
cide this controversy, by the historians of those times,
first calls a man into question, and then makes him
judge in his own cause, and at the best sees only by
another's eyes.
III. Admitting this supposition as true, that the
former ages are really the best, and to be preferred :
Yet still this querulous reflection upon the evil of the
present times, stands obnoxious to the same charge
of folly ; and, if it be condemned also, upon this sup-

Disc. XV.] OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMESi^ 341
position, I see not where it can take sanctuary : Now
that it ought to be so, I demonstrate by these reasons.
1. Because such complaints have no efficacy to re
move the cause of them : Thoughts and words alter
not the state of things. The expostulations of dis
content are like a thunder without, a thunder-bolt, they
vanish into noise and nothing ; and, like a woman, are
only loud and weak.
States are not altered, nor governments changed,
because one is discontented, and tells us so in a ser
mon, or in a book, and so prints himself a fool. Sad,
undoubtedly, were our case, should God be angry with
a nation, as often as a preacher is pleased to be pas
sionate, and to call his distemper the word of God.
A quill is but a weak thing to contest with a scep
ter ; and a satirical remonstrance to stand before a
sword of justice. The laws will not be worded out of
their course. The wheel will go on, though the fly
sits, and flutters, and buzzes upon it.
It would be well, if such persons would take Lu
ther's advice to Melancthon, and be persuaded to
leave off to govern the world, and not to frame new
politic ideas; not to raise models of state, and holy
commonwealths, in their little discontented closets ;
nor to arraign a council before a conventicle ; and
being stript of their arms, to fly to revelation; and
when they cannot effect, at least prophecy a change.
Though there be a lion, a bull, a venomous ser
pent, and a fiery scorpion in the zodiac ; yet still
the sun holds on his way, goes through them all,
brings the year about, finishes his course, shines, and
is glorious in spite of such opposition. The maun-
derings of discontent are like the behaviour of a
swine, who when he feels it rain, runs grumbling
about, and, by that, indeed, discovers his nature, but
does not avoid the storm.
2. Such complaints of the times are irrational, be
cause they only quicken the smart and add to the

342 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XVI.
pressure. Such querulous invectives against a stand
ing government, are like a stone flung at a marble
pillar, which not only makes no impression upon that,
but rebounds and hits the flinger in the face. Dis
content burns only that breast in which it boils ; and
when it is not contented to be hot within, but must
boil over in unruly, unwarrantable expressions to
avoid the heat, it wisely takes refuge in the fire :
Hence, when the sea swells and rages, we say not
improperly, that the sea itself is troubled.
Submission is that which either removes or lightens
the burden. Giving way either avoids or eludes the
blow : And where an enemy, or an affliction, is too
strong, patience is the best defiance.
And herein does the admirable wisdom of God ap
pear, in modelling the great economy of the world, so
uniting public and private advantages, that those dis
positions of mind, that are most conducible to the safe
ty of government and society, are also most advan
tageous to every man in his own personal capacity :
For, does not an humble, compliant subjection at the
same time strengthen the hands of the magistrate,
and bless the person that has it with the privileges of
quiet and content. He who has content, has that for
which others would be great ; he both secures and en
joys himself: but, on the contrary, he that frets and
fumes, raises tumults abroad, and feels the same with
in ; as he that cries and roars, first hinders his own
sleep, before he breaks the rest of others : And it is
not unusual to see a fire sometimes stifled in its own
smoke. In short, discontent is as laborious as useless ; and
he who will rebel must reckon upon the cost and con
duct of an army, and endure the trouble of watching,
as well as use the dissimulation of praying.
3. These censorious complaints of the evil of the
times are irrational, because the just cause of them is
resolvable into ourselves. 'Tis not the times that de-

Disc. XV.~\ OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. 343
bauch men, but men that derive a contagion upon the
time : And it is still the liquor that first taints the
vessel. Time is harmless, it passes on, and meddles with
none ; the sun rises, the year proceeds, and the sea
sons return, according to the decrees of nature and the
inviolate constancy of a perpetual course. And is it
not irrational for a man to cast the errors of his choice
upon the necessity of fate ? or to complain that men
speak low, because his hearing is decayed ? and to ut
ter satires against those times which his own vice has
made mad ? and, like Amnon, defile his sister, and
then loath her for the wrong he did her.
Thus we use to say, it is the room that smokes,
when indeed it is the fire which is in the room : And
it is still the fault of the common banter or way of
speaking, to disjoin the accusation and the crime, and
to charge a land with the vices of its inhabitants.
But I should think, that it might not be so difficult
a thing to find out a way both to remedy the com
plaint, and to remove the cause of it. For, let but the
prodigal confine himself, and measure his expenses by
his own abilities and not by another's books : Let him
trust himself more, and others less : Let ministers
cease to call faction religion, to lift up their voice too
much like a trumpet, and in petitions for peace, declare
for war : And let not others think themselves wronged,
if they be not revenged : Let no man be forced to
buy what he has already earned ; to pay for his
wages, and to lay down new sums for the price of
his blood and the just merit of his service. And
then, certainly, there will be no cause to prefer
former ages before the present. But if men will ex
travagantly plunge themselves in debt, and then rail
of bad times, because they are arrested ; if the gal
lant will put all upon his back, and then exclaim
against the government because he has nothing for
his belly ; if men will think themselves bound to

344 OF COMPLAINTS OF THE TIMES. [Disc. XV.
preach the nation all on fire, and being stopped in
their attempt, cry out of persecution ; if the public
peace must be sacrificed to private revenge, certain
ly the complaint is impudent and brutish, and deserves
to be sent to the law for an answer, and to the goal
for satisfaction.
But it is a sure, though no new observation, that
the most obnoxious are still the most querulous ; that
discontent, and the cause of it, are generally from the
same person ; and that when once the remorses of
guilt improve into discontent, it is not less difficult to
make such persons contented than to make them inno
cent. Rigor and contempt are the best correctors of this
distemper. And he who thinks that such persons may
be pacified, may as well attempt to satisfy the bottom
less pit, the cravings of hell, or the appetites of the
grave, which may sooner be filled (as impossible as
that is) than be satisfied.
For where interests are contradictory, (as in all
companies of men some must needs be,) there an uni
versal satisfaction is just in the same measure possible,
in which contradictions are reconcilable. And doubt
less there have been those, who have heartily cursed
that rain or sunshine, for which others have as heartily
prayed. Even our blessed Saviour himself, we read, endured
the contradiction of sinners : And (be it spoke with
reverence) it would put Providence itself to a kind of
non-plus, to attemper any dispensation of it to an uni
versal acceptance ; any more than that glorious foun
tain of light, the sun, can shine upon all the corners of
the earth at once : Wherefore, since the distemper (we
speak of) is incorrigible, and the remedy deplorable,
let not bare power attempt to outdo Omnipotence ; nor
the gods of the earth (as they are called) think to do
that which the God of heaven has never yet thought
fit to effect.

SELECTIONS

VARIOUS DISCOURSES.

44

DISCOURSE I.

ALL CONTINGENCIES DIRECTED BY GOD'S PROVIDENCE.

Prov. xvi. 33.

Many passages happen in the world, much like that
little cloud (I Kings xviii.), that appeared at first to
Elijah's servant, no bigger than a man's hand, but
presently after grew and spread, and blackened the
face of the whole heaven, and then discharged itself in
thunder and rain, and a mighty tempest. So these
accidents, when they first happen, seem but small and
contemptible ; but by degrees they branch out into
such a numerous train of mischievous consequences,
one drawing after it another, by a continued depen
dence and multiplication, jhat the plague becomes uni
versal, and personal miscarriage determines in a na
tional calamity.
For who, that should view the despicable beginnings
of some things and persons at first, could imagine or
prognosticate those stupendous increases of fortune,
that have afterwards followed them ?
Who, that had looked upon Agathocles first handling
the clay, and making pots under his father, and after
wards turning robber, could have thought, that from
such a condition, he should come to be king of Sicily?
Who, that had seen Massanello, a poor fisherman,
with his red cap and his angle, could have reckoned it
possible to see such a pitiful thing, within a week
after, shining in his cloth of gold, and with a word, or

348 ALL CONTINGENCIES DIRECTED [Disc. I.
a nod, absolutely commanding the whole city of Na
ples ?
And who, that had beheld such a bankrupt, beggar
ly fellow as Cromwell, first entering the parliament-
house with a thread-bare, torn cloak and a greasy hat,
(and perhaps neither of them paid for,) could have sus
pected, that, in the space of so few years, he should,
by the murder of one king, and the banishment of
another, ascend the throne, be invested in the royal
robes, and want nothing of the state of a king, butthe
changing of his hat into a crown.*
** **** * * *
God has many ways to reap down the grandees of
the earth ; an arrow, a bullet, a tyle, a stone from an
house, is an enough to do it : And besides all these
ways, sometimes, when he intends to bereave the
world of a prince, or an illustrious person, he may cast
him upon a bold, self-opinioned physician, worse than
his distemper, who shall dose and bleed, and kill him,
secundum artem, and make a shift to cure him into his
grave.

*

Then also for men's reputation, and that either in
point of wisdom, or of wit ; there is hardly any thing
which (for the most part) falls under a greater chance.
If a man succeeds in any attempt, though undertook
with never so much folly and rashness, his success
shall vouch him a politician ; and good luck shall pass
for deep contrivance : For give any one fortune, and
he shall be thought a wise man, in spite of his heart,
nay, and of his head too. On the contrary, be a de
sign never so artificially laid, and spun in the finest
thread of policy, if it chances to be defeated by some
cross accident, the man is then run down by an uni
versal vogue.
[ *This sally of wit is reported to have caused such a fit of merriment
in Charles II. before whom the discourse was delivered, that, turning to
Lawrence Hyde, Earl of Rochester, he said, with his usual exclamation,
" Ods fish, Lory, your chaplain must be made a bishop ; so put me in
mind of him at the next death." — Ed.]

Disc. /.] by god's providence. S49
Ahithophel was as great an oracle, and gave as good
counsel to Absalom, as ever he had given to David ;
but not having the good luck to be believed, and there
upon losing his former repute, he thought it high time
to hang himself. And, on the other side, there have
been some, who for several years have been fools with
tolerable good reputation, and never discovered them
selves to be so, till at length they attempted to be
knaves also, but wanted art and dexterity.
And as the repute of wisdom, so that of wit also, is
very casual. Sometimes a lucky saying, or a perti
nent reply, has procured ari esteem of wit, to persons
no ways accustomed to utter such things by any stand
ing ability of mind ; so that if such an one should have
the ill hap at any time to strike a man dead with a
smart saying, it ought, in all reason, to be judged but
a chance-medley ; the poor man (God knows) being
no way guilty of any design of wit.
Nay, even where there is a real stock of wit, yet
the wittiest sayings and sentences will be found in a
great measure the issues of chance, and nothing else,
but so many lucky hits of a roving fancy.
For consult the acutest poets and speakers, and they
will confess that their quickest and most admired con
ceptions, were such as darted into their minds like
sudden flashes of lightning, they knew not how, nor
whence ; and not by any certain dependence of one
thought upon another, as in matters of ratiocination.
Moreover, sometimes a man's reputation rises or
falls, as his memory serves him in a performance ; and
yet there is nothing more slippery, and less under com
mand, than this faculty. So that many having used
their utmost diligence to secure a faithful retention of
the things or words committed to it, yet after all can
not certainly know where it will trip and fail them.
Any sudden diversion of the spirits, or the justling in
of a transient thought, is able to deface those little
images of things ; and so breaking the train that was

350 ALL CONTINGENCIES DIRECTED [Disc. I.
laid in the mind, to leave a man in the lurch. And
for the other part of memory, called reminiscence,
which is the retrieving of a thing, at present forgot,
or but confusedly remembered,' by setting the mind
to hunt over all its notions, and to ransack every little
cell of the brain. While it is thus busied, how acci
dentally oftentimes does the thing sought for, offer it
self to the mind ? And by what small, petit hints
does the mind catch hold of, and recover a vanishing
notion ?
In short, though wit and learning are certain and
habitual perfections of the mind, yet the declaration
of them (which alone brings the repute) is subject
to a thousand hazards. So that every wit runs
something the same risk with the astrologer, who, if
his predictions come to pass, is cried up to the stars,
from whence he pretends to draw them ; but if not,
the astrologer himself grows more out of date than
his almanack. #######
As for men's employments and preferments, every
man that sets forth into the world, comes into a great
lottery, and draws some one certain profession to act
and live by, but knows not the fortune that will attend
him in it.
One man perhaps proves miserable in the study of
the law, which might have flourished in that of physic
or divinity. Another runs his head against the pulpit,
who might have been very serviceable to his country
at the plough. And a third proves a very dull and
heavy philosopher, who possibly would have made a
good mechanic, and have done well enough at the use
ful philosophy of the spade, or the anvil.
Ccesar Borgia (base son to Pope Alexander VI.)
used to boast to his friend Machiavel, that he had con
trived his affairs and greatness into such a posture of
firmness, that whether his holy father lived or died,

Disc. L] by god's providence. 351
they could not but be secure. If he lived, there could be
no doubt of them ; and if he died, he laid his interest
so, as to over-rule the next election as he pleased.
But all this while, the politician never considered, that
he might in the mean time fall dangerously sick, and
that sickness necessitate his removal from the court,
and during that his absence, his father die, and so his
interest decay, and his mortal enemy be chosen to the
papacy, as indeed it fell out. So that for all his exact
plot, down was he cast from all his greatness, and
forced to end his days in a mean condition ; as it is
pity but all such politic opiniators should.
Upon much the like account, we find it once said of
an eminent cardinal, by reason of his great likelihood
to step into St. Peter's chair, that in two conclaves
he went in Pope, and came out again cardinal.
So much has chance the casting-voice in the dispo
sal of all the great things of the world. That which
men call merit, is a mere nothing. For even when
persons of the greatest worth and merit are preferred,
it is not their merit, but their fortune that prefers them.
And then, for that other so much admired thing called
policy, it is but little better. For when men have
busied themselves, and beat their brains never so much,
the whole result both of their counsels and their for
tunes, is still at the mercy of an accident. And there
fore, whosoever that man was, that said, that he had
rather have a grain of fortune, than a pound of wisdom,
as to the things of this life, spoke nothing but the
voice of wisdom and great experience.
* * 4. * * * *
The sun shines in his full brightness, but the very
moment before he passes under a cloud. Who knows
what a day, what an hour, nay, what a minute may
bring forth ! He who builds upon the present, builds
upon the narrow compass of a point ; and where the
foundation is so narrow, the superstructure cannot be
high, and strong too.

DISCOURSE II.
OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US.  Luke xi. 35.

And First, for Lust : Nothing does or can darken
the conscience of man more : nay, it has a peculiar ef
ficacy this way, and for that cause may justly be ranked
amongst the very powers of darkness : it being that
which, (as naturalists observe,) strikes at the proper
seat of the understanding, the brain. Something of
that blackness of darkness mentioned in St. Jude,
seeming to be of the very nature, as well as punish
ment of this vice.
Nor does only the reason of the thing itself, but also
the examples of such as have been possessed with it,
demonstrate as much.
For had not Sampson (think we) an intolerable
darkness and confusion upon his understanding, while
he ran roving after every strumpet in that brutish man
ner that he did ? Was it not the eye of his conscience
which his Delilah first put out, and so of a Judge of Is
rael, rendered himself really a judgment upon them ?
And when the two angels (Gen. xix.) struck those
monsters, the men of Sodom, with blindness, had not
their own detestable lust first stricken them with a
greater ? Or could Herod have ever thought himself
obliged by the religion of an oath, to have murdered
the Baptist, had not his lust, and his Herodias impris
oned and murdered his conscience first ? For, surely,

Disc. II] OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US. 353
the common light of nature, could not but teach him
that no vow whatsoever could warrant the greatest
prince upon earth to take away the life of an innocent
person. But it seems his besotted conscience having
broken through the seventh commandment, the sixth
stood too near it to be safe long : And therefore his
two great casuists, the Devil and his Herodias (the
worse devil of the two) having allowed him to wallow
in adultery so long, easily persuaded him that the same
salvo might be found out for murder also. So that it
was his lust obstinately continued in, which thus de
luded his conscience ; and the same will, no doubt,
darken, and delude, and, in the end, extinguish the
conscience of any man breathing, who shall surrender
himself up to it. The light within him shall grow eve
ry day less and less, and at length totally go out, and
that in a stink too. So utterly unfeasible is it for men
to.be zealous votaries of the blind god, without losing
their eyes in his service, and it is well if their noses do
not follow. From all which it appears, what a para
dox it is in morals, for any one under the dominion of
his lust, to think to have a right judgment in things re
lating to the state of his soul.
# - * * * * * * *
/ Gluttony and all excess, either in eating or drinking,
strangely clouds the intellectual powers ; and then, it
is not to be expected that the conscience should bear
up, when the understanding is drunk down. An epi
cure' s practice naturally disposes a man to an epicure's
principles ; that is, to an equal looseness in both :
/And he who makes his belly his business, will quickly
come to have a conscience of as large a swallow as his
throat; of which there want not several scandalous
and deplorable instances. Loads of meat and drink are
fit for none but a beast of burden to bear'; and he is
much the greater beast of the two, who carries his bur
den in his belly, than he who carries it upon his back./
On the contrary, nothing is so great a friend to the
45

354 OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US. [Disc. II.
mind of man as abstinence ; it strengthens the memo
ry, it clears the apprehension, and sharpens the judg
ment, and in a word, gives reason its full scope of act
ing ; and when reason has that, it is always a diligent
and faithful handmaid to conscience. * * * *
Who hath woe ? who hath contentions ? who hath
babbling? who hath wounds without cause ? who
hath redness of eyes ? says Solomon, (Prov. xxiii. 29.)
Which question he himself presently answers in the next
verse : They who tarry long at the wine, they who
seek after mixt wine. So say I, who has a stupid
intellect, a broken memory, and a blasted wit, and
(worse than all) a blind, benighted conscience, but the
intemperate and luxurious, the epicure and the smell-
feast? So impossible is it for a man to turn sot,
without making himself a blockhead too. I know,
this is not always the present effect of these courses,
but, at a long run, it will infallibly be so ; and time
and luxury together, will as certainly change the in
side, as it does the outside of the best heads whatso
ever ; and much more of such heads as are strong for
nothing but to bear drink : concerning which, (it ever
was, and is, and will be a sure observation, that such
as are ablest at the barrel, are generally weakest at
the book.) *'** * * * ** *
Of all the vices incident to human nature, none so
powerfully and peculiarly carries the soul downwards
as Covetousness does. It makes it all earth and dirt,
burying that noble thing which can never die.
How mightily this vice darkens and debases the mind,
scripture-instances do abundantly shew. When Moses
would assign the proper qualifications of a Judge,
which office certainly calls for the quickest apprehen
sion, and the solidest judgment that the mind of man
is well capable of, (Deut. xvi. 9.) Thou shalt not take
a gift, (says he.) But why ? He presently adds the
reason ; Because a gift blinds the eyes of the wise.

Disc. II] OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US. 355
And no wonder, for it perverts their will ; and then,
who so blind as the man who resolves not to see ? Gold,
it seems, being but a very bad help and cure of the
eyes in such cases. In like manner, when Samuel
would set the credit of his integrity clear above all the
aspersions of envy and calumny itself, (1 Sam. xii. 3.)
Of whose hands have I received a bribe lo blind my
eyes therewith ? (says he.) Implying thereby, that for
a man to be gripe-handed and clear-sighted too, Avas
impossible. For, the truth is, preach to the conscience of a cove
tous person (if he may be said to have any) with the
tongue of men and angels, and tell him of the vani
ty of the world, of treasure in heaven, and of the ne
cessity of being rich towards God, and liberal to his
poor brother ; and 'tis all but flat, insipid, and ridicu
lous stuff to him, who neither sees, nor feels, nor suf
fers any thing to pass into his heart, but through his
hands. You must preach to such an one of bargain
and sale, profits and perquisites, principal and interest,
use upon use ; and if you can persuade him that god
liness is gain in his own sense, perhaps you may do
something with him ; otherwise, though you edge eve
ry word you speak with reason and religion, evidence
and demonstration, you shall never affect, nor so much
as reach his conscience ; for it is kept sealed up in a
bag under lock and key, and and you cannot come
at it. ********
As covetousness dulls the mind by pressing it down
too much below itself, so Ambition dazzles it by lifting
it up as much above itself ; but both of them are sure
to darken the light of it. For if you either look too
intently down a deep precipice upon a thing at an ex
treme distance beloW you, or with the same earnest
ness fix your eye upon something at too great an
height above you ; in both cases you will find a vertigo
or giddiness. And where there is a giddiness in the

356 OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US. [Disc. II
head, there will be always a mist before the eyes. And
thus, no doubt, it was only an ambitious aspiring after
high things, which not long since caused such a woful,
scandalous giddiness in some men's consciences, and
made them turn round and round from this to that,
and from that to this, till at length they knew not what
bottom to fix upon.
Pride, we know, (which is always cousin-german to
ambition,) is commonly reckoned the fore-runner of a
fall. It was the devil's sin and the devil's ruin, and
has been ever since the devil's stratagem ; who, like
an expert wrestler, usually gives a man a lift before he
gives him a throw. But how does he do this ? Why,
by first blinding him with ambition ; and when a man
either cannot, or will not mind the ground he stands
upon, as a thing (forsooth) too much below him, he is
then easily justled down, and thrust headlong into the
next ditch. The truth is, in this case men seem to
ascend to an high station, just as they use to leap down
a very great steep : In both cases they shut their eyes
first, for in both the danger is very dreadful, and the
Avay to venture upon it is not to see it.
Yea, so fatally does this towering humour intoxicate
men's minds, that when the devil stands bobbing and
tantalizing their gaping hopes with some preferment
in church or state, they shall do the vilest and most
odious things imaginable ; and that not only in defiance
of conscience, but, Avhich is yet more impudent and
intolerable, shall even allege conscience itself as the
very reason for the doing them : So that such wretch
es shall, out of mere conscience, (forsooth,) betray the
country that bred, and the church that baptized them,
and having first practised a dispensing power upon all
law within them, shall help to let the same loose upon
all laAvs ivithout them too ; and when they have done,
shall wipe their mouths, and with as boon a grace and
as bold a front look the world in the face, as if they
expected thanks for such villanies, as a modest male
factor would scarce presume to expect a pardon for.

Disc. II] OF THE LIGHT WITHIN US. 357

There are many more irregular and corrupt affec
tions belonging to the mind of man, and all of them in
their degree apt to darken and obscure the light of
conscience. But the three forementioned are, doubt
less, the most potent in their influence, and most per
nicious in their effect ; as answering to those three
principal objects, which, of all others, do the most ab
solutely command and domineer over the desires of
men ; to wit, the pleasures of the world working upon
their sensuality ; the profits of the world, upon their
covetousness ; and lastly the honours of it, upon their
ambition. Which three powerful incentives, meeting
with these three violent affections, are, as it were, the
great trident in the tempter's hand, by which he strikes
through the very souls of men ; orasa mighty three
fold cord, by which he first hampers, and then draws
the whole after him, and that with such an irresistible
fascination upon the understandings, as well as appe
tites of men, that as God said heretofore, Let there be
light, and there was light ; so this proud rival of his
Creator is still saying in defiance of him, Let there be
darkness, and accordingly there is darkness ; darkness
upon the mind and reason; darkness upon the judg
ment and conscience of all mankind. So that hell
itself seems to be nothing else, but the devil's finish
ing this his great work, and the consummation of that
darkness in another world, Avhich he had so fatally
begun in this.

DISCOURSE III.
THE WISDOM OF GOD IN THE GOSPEL MYSTERY.
1 Cor. ii. 7.

The Socinians indeed, who would obtrude upon the
World a new Christianity of their own inventing, will
admit of nothing in this religion, which the natural
reason of man cannot have a clear, comprehensive per
ception of; and this not only in defiance of the ex
press words of scripture, but also of the constant sense
of all antiquity unanimously confessing an incompre
hensibility in many of the articles of the christian faith.
So that these bold persons stand alone by themselves,
upon a new bottom, and an upstart principle, not much
above an hundred years old, spitting upon all antiquity
before them ; and (as some, who have wrote against
them, have well observed of them) are the only sect
of men in the world, who ever pretended to set up or
oAvn a religion without either a mystery or a sacrifice be
longing to it. And now, are not these blessed new
lights (think we) fit to be encouraged, courted, and
have panegyrics made upon their wonderful abilities,
forsooth ? Whilst they, on the other side, are employ
ing the utmost of those abilities (such as they are) in
blaspheming our Saviour, and overturning our religion ?
But this is their hour, and the power of darkness. For
it is a truth too manifest to be denied, that there
have been more innovations upon, and blasphemies
against the chief articles of our faith, published in this
kingdom, and that after a more audacious and scanda
lous manner, within these several years last past, than

D'lSC Ill] IN THE GOSPEL MYSTERY. 359
have been known here for some centuries of years be
fore (even those times of confusion both in church and
state betwixt Forty-one and Sixty not excepted :) And
what this may end in, God only at present knoAvs, and
I wish the whole nation may not at length feel.
*********
To protect which [religion] from the sawcy en
croachments of bold minds, he has hedged it in with a
majestic obscurity, in some of the principal parts of it ;
which, that it is the most effectual way to secure a
reverence to it from such minds, is as certain as the
universal experience of mankind can make it ; it being
an observation too frequent to be at all doubted of,
that familiarity breeds contempt ; and it holds not
more in point of converse, than in point of knowledge.
Distance preserves respect, and we still imagine
some transcendant worth in things above our reach.
Moses Avas never more reverenced than when he wore
his veil. Nay, the very sanctum sanctorum would not
have had such a veneration from the Jews, had they
been permitted to enter into it, and to gaze and stare
upon it, as often as they did upon the other parts of
the temple. The high priest himself, who alone was
suffered to enter into it, yet was to do so but once et
year; lest the frequency of the sight might insensibly
lessen that adoration, which so sacred a thing was stilt
to maintain upon his thoughts.
Many men, who in their absence have been ad
mirable for their fame, find a diminution of that re
spect upon their personal presence : Even the great
apostle St. Paul himself found it so. And upon the
same account it is, that the kings of some nations,
to keep up a living and a constant awe of themselves
in the minds of their subjects, show themselves to them
but once a year : And even that perhaps may be some
thing with the oftenest, considering, that persons, whose
greatness generally consists rather in the height of
their condition, than in the depth of their understand-

360 THE AVISDOM OF GOD [Disc. III.
ing, seldom appear freely and openly, but they expose
themselves in more senses than one.
It is not the worth or excellency, but the strange
ness of a thing which draws the eyes and admiration
of men after it : For can any thing in nature be imag
ined more glorious than the sun shining in his full
might, and yet how many more spectators and wonder-
ers does the same sun find under an eclipse ?
But to pursue this notion yet further, it will not be
amiss to consider, how it has been the custom of all
the wise nations of the world still to reserve the great
rites of their religion in occulto : Thus, how studiously
did the Egyptians, those great masters of all learning,
lock up their sacred things from all access of the vul
gar ! Whereupon their gods were pictured Avith their
finger upon their mouth, thereby (as it were) enjoining
silence to their votaries, and forbidding all publication
of their mysteries. Nor was this all, but for the better
concealing of the sacra arcana of their religion, they
used also a peculiar character unknown to the common
people, and understood only by themselves ; and last
of all, the priesthood was made hereditary amongst
them, by which means they easily confined the know
ledge of their sacerdotal rites wholly within their oAvn
family. The like also is reported of the Phoenicians,
the Babylonians, and the Grecians, that they had their
sacred and peculiar way of writing, by which they
rescued the reverend mysteries of their religion from
the rude inspection of the rout. And lastly, that the
same course of secrecy was also followed by the Ro
mans, though in a different way, and not by the use of
such peculiar characters, is sufficiently evident, from
that known prologue to their sacred rites, Procul este
profani. *******
The pride and haughtiness of man's reason is a
quality so peculiarly odious to God, that it may be
said, not so much to imprint upon men the image, as

Disc. Ill] IN THE GOSPEL MYSTERY. 361
to communicate to them the very essence of Lucifer.
The Avay by which man first fell from his original in
tegrity and happiness was by pride, founded upon an
irregular desire of knowledge; and therefore it seems
to be a course most agreeable to the divine Avisdom to
contrive man's recovery by such a method as should
abase him in that very perfection, whereof the ambi
tious improvement first cast him down from that glori
ous condition. In short, man would be like God in
knowledge, and so he fell ; and now if he will be like
him in happiness too, God will effect it in such a way,
as shall convince him to his face that he knows nothing.
The whole course of his salvation shall be all riddle
and mystery to him ; he shall (as I may so express it)
be carried up to heaven in a cloud. Instead of evi
dence springing from things themselves, and clear know
ledge growing from such an evidence, his understanding
must now be contented with the poor, dim light of
faith, which (as I have shown) guides only in the
strength and light of another's knowledge, and is pro
perly a seeing with another's eyes.
We learn from what has been discoursed, the great
vanity and presumption of such as pretend to clear up
all mysteries, and determine all controversies in relig
ion. The attempts of which sort of men I can liken
to nothing so properly as to those pretences to infal
lible cures, which we daily see posted up in every cor
ner of the streets ; and I think it is great pity, but
that both these sort of pretences were posted up to
gether. For I know no universal, infallible remedy,
which certainly cures, or rather carries off all diseases,
and puts an end to all disputes, but death ; which yet,
for all that, is a remedy not much in request. Quacks
and mountebanks are, doubtless, a very dangerous sort
of men in physic, but much more so in divinity.
There is hardly a greater, and more undecidable
problem in natural theology, and which has not only
46

362 THE WISDOM OF GOD, &C. [Disc. III.
exercised, but even crucified the greatest wits of all
ages, than the reconciling of the immutable certainty
of God's foreknowledge with the freedom and contin
gency of all human acts. Both parts of which problem
are certainly true, but how to make out the accord be
tween them without overthrowing one of them, has
hitherto exceeded the force of man's reason. And
therefore Socinus very roundly, or rather indeed very
profanely, denies any such prescience of future contin
gents to be in God at all. But as profane as he was
in thus cutting asunder this knot, others have been as
ridiculous in pretending to untie it. For do not some,
in their discourses about the divine attributes and de
crees, promise the world such an open, explicit scheme
of those great things, as should make them evident
even to the meanest capacities ? And the truth is, if to
any capacities at all, it must be to the meanest ; for to
those of an higher pitch, and a larger compass, these
things neither are, nor will, nor ever can be made evi
dent. And if such persons could but obtain of heaven
a continuance of life, till they made good what they
so confidently undertake, they would be in a sure way
to out-live not only Methuselah, but even the world
itself. But then, in come some other undertakers,
and promise us the same or greater wonders in chris
tian theology, offering by some new whimsical explica
tions of their own to make the deepest mysteries ot
our christian faith as easy and intelligible (forsooth)
as that two and two make four ; that is, in other
words, they will render them such mysteries as shall
have nothing at all mystical in them.
And now is not this, think we, a most profound in
vention, and much like the discovery of some New
found land, some O Brazil in divinity ? with so much
absurd confidence do some discourse or rather ro
mance upon the most mysterious points of the chris
tian faith ; that any man of sense and sobriety would
be apt to think such persons not only beside their
subject, but beside themselves too.

DISCOURSE IV
PROSPERITY FATAL TO VIRTUE.  PrOV. i. 32.

Poverty and hardship has made the most famed com
manders, the fittest persons for business, the most ex
pert statesmen, and the greatest philosophers. But
would the young effeminate gallant, that never knew
what it was to want his will, that every day swims
in the delights of the world : would he, I say, choose
to rise out of his soft bed at midnight, to begin an hard
and a long march, to engage in a crabbed study, or to
follow some tedious perplexed business ? No, he will
have his servants, and the sun itself rise before him ;
when his breakfast is ready, he will make himself rea
dy too ; unless perhaps sometimes his hounds and his
huntsmen break his sleep, and so make him early in
order to his being idle.
Hence we observe so many great families to moul
der away through the sottishness of the heir : the rea
son of which is, that the possession of an estate does
not prompt men to those severe practices, by which it
was first acquired. The grand-child perhaps comes
and drinks, and whores himself out of those fair lands,
manors and mansions, which his glorious ancestors had
fought, or studied themselves into, which they had got
by preserving their country against an invasion, by fa
cing the enemy in the field, hungry and thirsty, early
and late, by preferring a brave action before a sound
sleep, though nature might never so much require it.
When the courage of the Romans had made them

364 PROSPERITY FATAL TO VIRTUE. [Disc. IV.
masters of the wealth and pleasures of all the conquer
ed nations round about them, we see how quickly the
edge of their valour was dulled, and the rigorous hon
esty of their morals melted away with those delights,
which too easily circumvent and overcome the hearts
of men. So that instead of the Camilli, the Fabricii,
the Scipios, and such like propagators of the growing
greatness of the Roman empire, who lived as high
things as they performed ; as soon as the bulk of it
grew vast and unlimited upon the reign of Augustus
Ccesar, we find a degenerous race of Caligulas, Neros
and Vitelliuses; and of other inferior sycophants, who
neither kneAV nor affected any way of making themselves
considerable, but by a servile adoring of the vices and
follies of great ones above them, and a base treacher
ous informing against virtuous and brave persons about
them. The whole business that was carried on with such
noise and eagerness in that great city, then the empress
of the western world, was nothing else but to build mag
nificently, to feed luxuriously, to frequent sports and
theatres, to run for the sportula, and in a word, to
flatter, and be flattered ; the effects of a too full and
unwieldy prosperity. But surely they could not have
had leisure to think upon their sumens, their mullets,
their Lucrinian oysters, their phamicopters, and the
like ; they could not have made a rendezvous of all
the elements at their table every day, in such a prodi
gious variety of meats and drinks ; they could not, I
say, have thus attended these things, had the Gauls been
besieging their capitol, or Hannibal at the head of
his Carthaginian army rapping at their doors : this
Avould quickly have turned their spits into swords ; and
whet their teeth too against their enemies. But when
peace, ease and plenty, took away these whetstones of
courage and emulation, they insensibly slid into the
Asiatic softness, and were intent upon nothing but
their cooks, and their ragouts, their fine attendants, and

Disc. IV.] PROSPERITY FATAL TO VIRTUE. 365
unusual habits ; so that the Roman genius was, (as the
English seems to be now) even stifled, and the conquer
ors themselves transformed into the guise and garb of
the conquered ; till by degrees the empire shrivelled
away ; and from such a surfeit of immoderate pros
perity, passed at length into a final consumption.
¦Tt 'TT TT W Tf Tt" TT
Those vices which more particularly receive im
provement by prosperity.
1. And the first is Pride. Who almost is there,
whose heart does not swell with his bag ? and whose
thoughts do not follow the proportions of his condition ?
What difference has been seen in the same man poor
and preferred ? His mind, like a mushroom, has shot
up in a night. His business is first to forget himself,
and then his friends. When the sun shines, then the
peacock displays his train.
We knoAv when Hezekiah's treasuries were full,
his armories replenished, and the pomp of his court
rich and splendid, how his heart was lifted up, and
what vaunts he made of all to the Babylonish ambas
sadors, (Isa. xxix. 2.) Though in the end, as most proud
fools do, he smarted for his ostentation. See Nebu
chadnezzar also strutting himself upon the survey of
that mass of riches, and settled grandeur, that Provi
dence had blessed his court with. It swelled his heart
till it broke out at his mouth in that rhodomontade,
Is not this great Babylon that I have built for the
house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and
for the glory of my majesty ? Now, that prosperity,
by fomenting a man's pride, lays a certain train for his
ruin, will easily be acknowledged by him, who either
from scripture or experience shall learn what a spite
Providence constantly owes the proud person. He is
the very eye-sore of heaven ; and God even looks up
on his own supremacy as concerned to abase him.
2. Another sin that is apt to receive increase and
growth from prosperity, is Luxury and uncleanness.

366 PROSPERITY FATAL TO VIRTUE. [Disc. IV.
Sodom was a place watered like the garden of God,
and what the sin of it was, and the dismal consequence
of that sin, is too well known. The Israelites com
mitting fornication with the daughters of Moab, which
reaped down so many thousands of them at once, was
introduced with feasting and dancing, and all the gaie
ties and festivities of a prosperous, triumphing people.
We read of nothing like adultery in a persecuted David
in the wilderness ; he fled here and there like a chast
roe upon the mountains, but when the delicacies of the
court softened and ungirt his spirit, when he drowzed
upon his couch, and sunned himself upon the leads of
his palace ; then it was that this great hero fell by a
glance, and buried his glories in his neighbour's bed ;
gaining to his name a lasting slur, and to his conscience
a fearful wound.
As Solomon says of a man surprized with surfeit
and intemperance, we may say of every foolish man
immersed in prosperity, that his eyes shall look upon
strange women, and his heart shall utter perverse
things. 'Tis a tempting thing for the fool to be gad
ding abroad in a fair day. But Dinah knows not, but
the snare may be laid for her, and she return with a
rape upon her honour, baffled and deflowered, and rob
bed of the crown of her virginity. Lot's daughters
revelled and banqueted their father into incest.
The unclean devil haunts the families of the rich,
the gallant, and the high livers ; and there is nothing
but the wisdom from above which descends upon strict,
humble, and praying persons, that can preserve the
soul pure in the killing neighbourhood of such a conta
gion. # * * # # * *
Prosperity, I shewed, was destructive to fools : and
therefore, the only way for a man not to find it de
structive, is for him not to be a fool; and this he may
avoid by a pious observance of these following rules. As
1. Let him seriously consider upon what weak hin-

Disc. IV.] PROSPERITY FATAL TO VIRTUE. 367
ges his prosperity and felicity hang. Perhaps the
cross falling of a little accident, the omission of a
ceremony, or the misplacing of a circumstance, may
determine all his fortunes for ever. Or perhaps his
whole interest, his possessions, and his hopes too, may
live by the breath of another, who may breathe his last
to-morrow. And shall a man forget God and eternity,
for that which cannot secure him the reversion of a
day's happiness ? Can any favourite bear himself high
and insolent upon the stock of the largest fortune im
aginable, who has read the story of Wolsey or Seja-
nus ? Not only the death, but the humour of his
prince or patron may divest him of all his glories, and
send him stripped and naked to his long rest. He that
well considers this, will account it a surer livelihood to
depend upon the sweat of his own brow, than the favour
of another man's.
2. Let a man consider, how little he is bettered by
prosperity as to those perfections which are chiefly va
luable. All the wealth of both the Indies cannot add
one cubit to the stature either of his body or his mind.
It can neither better his health, advance his intellectu
als, or refine his morals. We see those languish and
die, who command the physic and physicians of a whole
kingdom. And some are dunces in the midst of libra
ries, dull and sottish in the very bosom of Athens ; and
far from wisdom, though they lord it over the wise.

DISCOURSE V.
THE VANITY OF GOOD INTENTIONS MERELY
1 Cor. viii. 12.

I look upon the old church of England royalists
(which I take to be only another name for a man who
prefers his conscience before his interest) to be the best
Christians, and the most meritorious subjects in the
world ; as having passed all those terrible tests, which
domineering malice could put them to, and carried
their credit and their conscience clear and triumphant
through, constantly firm and immoveable, by all that
they felt either from their professed enemies, or their
false friends. *******
It is wonderful to consider, hoAv a command, or call
to be liberal, either upon a civil or religious account,
all of a sudden impoverishes the rich, breaks the
merchant, shuts up every private man's exchequer, and
makes those men in a minute have nothing at all to
give, who, at the very same instant, want nothing to
spend. So that instead of relieving the poor, such a
command strangely increases their number, and trans
forms rich men into beggars presently. For, let the
danger of their prince and country knock at their
purses, and call upon them to contribute against a
public enemy or calamity ; then immediately they
have nothing, and their riches, upon such occasions,
(as Solomon expresses it,) never fail to make them
selves ivings, and to fly aivay.

Disc. V.] VANITY OF GOOD INTENTIONS MERELY. 369
*******
Come to an old, rich, professing volpone, and tell
him, that there is a church to be built, beautified, or
endowed in such a place, and that he cannot lay out
his money more to God's honour, the public good, and
the comfort of his own conscience, than to bestow it
liberally upon such an occasion ; and in answer to this,
it is ten to one but you shall be told, " How much God
is for the inward, spiritual worship of the heart, and
that the Almighty neither dwells, nor delights in tem
ples made with hands ; but hears and accepts the
prayers of his people in dens and caves, barns and sta
bles ; and in the homeliest and meanest cottages, as
well as in the stateliest and most magnificent churches."
Thus, I say, you are like to be answered. In reply to
which, I would have all such sly, sanctified cheats
(who are so often harping upon this string) know
once for all, that that God who accepts the prayers of
his people in dens and caves, barns and stables, when,
by his afflicting Providence, he has driven them from
the appointed places of his solemn worship, so that
they cannot have the use of them, will not, for all this,
endure to be served, or prayed to by them in such
places, nor accept of their barn-worship ; no, nor yet
of their parlour, or their chamber worship, where he
has given them both wealth and power to build him
churches. For he that commands us to worship him
in the spirit, commands us also to honour him with our
substance. For, as in the heathen worship of God, a
sacrifice without an heart, was accounted ominious ; so
in the christian worship of him, an heart without a
sacrifice is worthless and impertinent.
*******
Come we now to this old, rich pretender to godli
ness, in another case, and tell him that there is such an
one, a man of a good family, good education, and who
has lost all his estate for the king, now ready to rot in
prison for debt ; come, what will you give towards his
47

370 VANITY OF GOOD INTENTIONS MERELY. [Disc. V.
release ? Why, then answers the will instead of the
deed, as much the readier speaker of the two, " The
truth is, I always had a respect for such men ; I love
them with all my heart ; and it is a thousand pities
that any that have served the king so faithfully, should
be in such want." So say I too, and the more shame
is it for the whole nation, that they should be so. But
still, what will you give ? Why, then answers the man
of mouth-charity again, and tells you, that " you could
not come in a worse time ; that money is now-a-days
very scarce with him, and that therefore he can give
nothing ; but he will be sure to pray for the poor gen
tleman." Ah thou hypocrite ! when thy brother has lost all
that ever he had, and lies languishing, and even gasp
ing under the utmost extremities of poverty and dis
tress, dost thou think thus to lick him whole again,
only with thy tongue ? Just like that old formal hocus,
who denied a beggar a farthing, and put him off with
his blessing.
The measures that God marks out to thy charity,
are these : Thy superfluities must give place to thy
neighbour's great convenience : Thy convenience must
vail to thy neighbour's necessity : And lastly, thy very
necessities must yield to thy neighbour's extremity.
This is the gradual process that must be thy rule ;
and he that pretends a disability to give, short of this,
prevaricates with his duty. God sometimes calls upon
thee to relieve the needs of thy poor brother, some
times of thy country, and sometimes of thy prince :
Now, before thou flyest to the old, stale, usual pretence,
that thou canst do none of all these things, consider
with thyself, that there is a God, who is not to be
flammed off with lies, who knows exactly what thou
canst do, and what thou canst not ; and consider in
the next place, that it is not the best husbandry in the
world, to be damned to save charges.

DISCOURSE VI.

THE PROTECTION OF KINGS, THE PECULIAR CARE OF
PROVIDENCE.  Ps. Cxliv. 10.

God does after an extraordinary manner deliver Prin
ces, by endowing them with a more than ordinary sa
gacity and quickness of understanding. Kings, they
say, have a long reach with their arm, but they have a
further with their mind. God is said (1 Kings iv.
29,) to have given Solomon largeness of heart, even
as the sand on the sea-shore. And (Prov. xxv. 5,)
The heart of Kings is said to be unsearchable. In
the former text the royal mind is compared to the sand
on the sea-shore for compass, and in this latter it may
seem to vie with the sea itself for depth. And does
not this day's solemnity give us an eminent proof of
this ? For when this horrid conspiracy, contrived in
hell and darkness, was conveyed to one of the confed
erates under the shelter of an equivocal writing, our
apprehensive and quick-scented king presently smok
ed the ambiguous paper, and sounding the depths of
the black intrigue, found that at the bottom of it, which
few mortals besides (though of the quickest faculties)
could have discovered from it ; who had not had their
conjectures alarmed by some glimmerings of light into
that dark project before. Such a piercing judgment
does God often give to these his deputies. A judgment
which looks into, or rather through and through all
others, but is looked into by none.
And there is nothing that both adorns and secures a
prince, comparably to this discerning faculty : for by
this, as by a great light kindling many others, he com-

372 THE PROTECTION OF KINGS, [Disc. VI.
mands the use of the best understandings and judg
ments throughout his dominions, calling them to his
council, and so seeing with their eyes, apprehending
and contriving with their heads ; all their knowledge
and experience, like rivers paying tribute to the ocean,
being conveyed into arid swallowed up in his royal
breast. It is both the safety and felicity of a prince
to have a wise council, but it must be his own ivisdom
which provides him one. Wisdom is a noble quality,
and not discernible but by itself. It is art that must
judge of art ; and he who discovers wisdom in another,
must do it by the idea he first had of it in his own
brain. Now as the first and chief external safeguard
of a prince is in his council ; and as it is his discerning
faculty which must furnish him with this, so his next
safety is in the choice of his friends ; and it is the
same discerning faculty which must secure him here too :
for it is this that must distinguish between friendship
and flattery, the most baneful mischief that can be prac
tised by one man upon another ; and shadows do not
more inseparably follow bodies, than flattery the per
sons of great men. Flatterers are the bosom enemies
of princes, laying trains for them, not at all less de
structive, than that which was discovered this day ;
contriving their ruin acceptably, pleasingly, and accord
ing to their own heart's desire. Poison has frequent
ly destroyed kings, but none has been so efficaciously
mortal as that drank in by the ear.
*******
God delivers Sovereign Princes, . by imprinting a
certain awe and dread of their persons and authority
upon the minds of their subjects. For the strength of
one man can do nothing against so many ; and his wis
dom and counsel but little more : and those who are
to obey him, know so much, and yet for all that they
yield him absolute subjection, dread his threatenings,
tremble at his frowns, and lay their necks . under his
feet. Now from whence can all this be, but from

Disc. VI] THE CARE OF PROVIDENCE. 373
a secret work of the divine power, investing sove
reign princes with certain marks and rays of that Di
vine image, which overawes, and controuls the spirits
of men, they know not how nor why ? But yet they
feel themselves actually wrought upon, and kept under
by them, and that very frequently against their will.
And this is that properly which in kings we call
majesty, and which no doubt is a kind of portraiture
of the divine authority drawn upon the looks and
persons of princes, which makes them commanders of
men's fears, and thereby capable of governing them in
all their concerns. Nonferofulgor oculorum tuorum,
is the language of every subject's heart, struck with
the awful aspect of a resolute and magnanimous prince.
There is a majesty in his countenance, that puts light
ning into his looks and thunder into his words.
******.#
The piety of a king diffuses a blessing, and a pro
tection upon the whole kingdom : for how often, up
on the provocations of Judah, did the memory of Da
vid's piety (as it were) disarm the divine vengeance ?
So that in the second book of Kings, it is said three
several times, upon three several remarkable occasions,
that God would not destroy Judah and Jerusalem for
his servant David's sake. And who knows, but the
piety, the virtues, and the' christian sufferings of the
late martyred king, may be one great preservative of the
present peace of this wretched and ungrateful nation ?
so that when God lately sent his destroying angel,
with his drawn sword, over Poland, Germany, Hol
land and other countries ; he has looked upon the
blood of that royal martyr shed for the rights and lib
erties of his kingdoms, and bid the destroying angel
pass over England and draw no more blood there,
where the memory of that sacred blood had made such
an expiation, and cried aloud for mercy upon all ; even
those that shed it, not excepted.

374 ' THE PROTECTION OF KINGS, [Disc. VI.
Religion is an immortal seed, and the church is proof
against the very gates of hell, as being founded upon
a promise, and so standing fast in the eternal strength
of God's veracity. Nevertheless, as to its outward
state and circumstances, it must clasp about the secu
lar power, and as that frowns or smiles upon it, so it
must droop or flourish. Accordingly God has declar
ed kigs to be nursing fathers of his church : and ev
ery prince by the essential inherent right of his crown
is, or should be, a defender of the faith. He holds it
by a charter from heaven ; long before the Pope's do
nation, who never gives any thing to princes, but what
was their own before.
We know how glorious a deliverance our church re
ceived this day ; and it was by the wisdom of that
head which wore the crown, that God vouchsafed it to
her. King and church then, (as 'tis seldom otherwise)
were both designed to the same fate. But God pre
served the king, and the king the church. And who
knows but for such a day as this, God paved his way
before him in such a peaceable entrance into the En
glish throne, so much above and against the expecta
tion of the world round about him, and of the court
of Rome especially ; which, it is well known, had other
designs upon the anvil at that time. And as he
then saved the church from perishing by one blow ; so
he afterwards supported it from dying gradually, either
by the encroachments of superstition, or the attempts
of innovation.
And it is observable, (which I speak not in flattery,
but in a profound sense of a blessing which the whole
kingdom can never be thankful enough for ;) that none
of the families that ever reigned over this nation, have
to their power been so careful and tender of the church,
kept their hands so clean from any thing that might
look like sacrilege, been so zealous of its privileges,
and so kind to its ministers, as the royal family that
now sways the sceptre in the succession of three seve-

Disc. VI.] THE CARE OF PROVIDENCE. 375
ral princes. And I doubt not but as sacrilege has
blasted the mightiest families with a curse, so the ab
horrence of it will and must perpetuate a blessing up
on this. -Jr *pr -Itr flr -Jr ^f -)r
We learn from the premises, the duty and behaviour
of subjects towards their princes. Does not God by
such a protecting providence over kings, point out to us
the sacredness of their persons ? and command a rev
erence, where he himself thinks fit to place an honour?
Does not every extraordinary deliverance of a prince,
carry this inscription upon it in the brightest charac
ters, Touch not mine anointed ? Whom God has plac
ed upon the throne, shall any human power presume
to drag to the bar ? or shall royal heads be crowned
and anointed, only to prepare them to be sacrificed up
on a scaffold ?
As for our parts, when we reflect upon our prince,
signalized by so many strange, unparalleled rescues,
ought they not both to endear him to our allegiance,
and in a manner consecrate him to our veneration ?
For is not this he, whom in the loins of his royal pro
genitor, God, by this day's mercy, (as I may so say)
delivered before he was born ? He, for whose sake
God has since wrought so many miracles ? covering
his head in the day of battle, and which is more, se
curing it after battle, when such a price was set upon
it ? Is not this he, whom the same Providence fol
lowed into banishment, and gave him safety and hon
our, where he had not so much as to lay his head, or
to set his foot upon, that he could call his own ? Is
not this he, whom God brought back again by a mira
cle as great as that by which he brought Israel out of
Egypt, not dividing, but (as it were) drying up a Red
Sea, before him ? Is not this he, whom neither the
plots of his enemies at home, nor the united strength
of those abroad have been able to shake or supplant ?
And lastly, is not this he, whom neither the barbarous

376 THE PROTECTION OF KINGS, &C. [Disc. VI.
injuries of his rebel subjects at home, nor the tempta
tions of foreign princes abroad, nor all the arts of Rome
besides, could, in his greatest extremity, bring over to
the Romish profession ;* but that after all, he return
ed, and since his return still continues in the same
communion, which he was in when he went from us,
Carolus a Carolo, firm and immoveable like the son
of a father, who could rather part with his crowns,
kingdoms, and his very life, than quit his honour or
give up his religion ?
[ * How sadly premature was this eulogium, the reader needs not to
be told. That Charles was attended in his last hours by Romish priests,
who administered to him the rites of that church, is now a matter of
certified history. Yet a more scrupulous panegyrist of royalty than South,
might have been excused for assuming a somewhat confident tone in re
gard to one, who himself could write to his brother the Duke of York
during their common exile, in language like this : "Letters from Paris say,
that it is the Queen's (Henrietta Maria, mother of Charles and James)
purpose to do all she can to change your religion, in the which if you
hearken to her or any one else, you must never think to see England
or my face more." — Ed.]

DISCOURSE VII.

FALSE METHODS OF GOVERNING THE CHURCH OF ENG
LAND exploded. — Gal. ii. 5.

The temper and disposition of those men, (the Dis
senters,) who press for such compliances with them,
certainly should be considered ; and if it ought to give
any force to their demands, it ought to be extremely
peaceable and impartial. But are there any qualities
incident to the nature of man, which these persons are
farther from? For do they treat the governors of the
church with any other appellation but that of Baal's
priests, formalists, dumb dogs, proud popish pf elates,
haters of God and good men, and the like ? I say, is
not this their usual dialect ? And can we imagine that
the spirit of Christianity can suggest such language ?
Is it possible, that where true religion governs in the
heart, it should thus utter itself at the mouth ? And to
show yet farther, that this temper can manifest itself
by actions as well as words ; did not those, who now
plead conscience against law, in the year Forty-one,
persecute, plunder, kill, and murder, those who plead
ed and followed conscience according to law ? And
can any one assure the government that they will not,
under the same circumstances, do the same things
again ?
And for their impartiality, did they ever grant tole
ration to any who were dissenters from them ? The
Presbyterian would grant none, and he has given the
world so much under his own hand, in those many ve
hement books wrote by him on this subject ; one of
48

378 false methods of governing [Disc. VII.
which, I well remember long since, was by a kind of
sanctified quibble entitled, Intolerable Toleration, a
pamphlet mean enough, and of little note in the world,
but as it served to show the temper of the Presbyte
rian, and how utterly averse he was to the indulging
of any of a different persuasion from himself. And
when his younger brother, the Independent, the abler
and more thriving sectarian of the two, had tripped up
his heels in the Lord, (a word then much in fashion,)
and so brought in his Independency, with a kind of
toleration along with it ; yet still prelacy, no less than
papacy itself, stood expressly excepted from any bene
fit, favour, or toleration, from the one party or the
other ; that is to say, both of them were ready to tole
rate Turks, Jews, Infidels, (and even all who will but
acknowledge one God,) rather than those of the com
munion of the .church of England.
*******
Let us here first of all suppose our dissenters to be
dealt Avith upon terms of comprehension, (as they call
it,) and took into the communion of the church, with
out submitting to the present conditions of its commu
nion, or any necessary obligation to obey tbe establish
ed rules of it, then these things must follow ; first,
that men shall come into the national ministry of the
church of England, full of the Scotch covenant, and all
those rebellious principles fresh and keen upon their
spirits, which raised and carried on the late fatal war.
Then will it also follow, that in the same diocese,
and sometimes in the very same town, some shall use
the surplice, and some shall not ; and each shall have
their parties prosecuting one another with the bitterest
hatreds and animosities. Some in the same church,
and at the same time, shall receive the sacrament
kneeling, some standing, and others possibly sitting ;
some shall use the cross in baptism, and others shall
not only not use it themselves, but shall also inveigh
and preach against those who do. Some shall read

Disc. VII] THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 379
this part of the Common-Prayer, some that, and some
perhaps none at all. And where (as in cathedrals)
they cannot avoid the having it read by others, they
shall come into the church when it is done, and step
ping up into the pulpit, (with great gravity no doubt,)
shall conceive a long, crude, extemporary prayer, in
reproach of all the prayers which the church, with such
admirable prudence and devotion, had been making
before. Nay, in the same cathedral you shall see one
prebendary in a surplice, another in a long cloak, anoth
er in a short coat, or jacket ; and in the performance
of the public service, some standing up at the creed,
the gloria patri, and the reading of the gospel ; and
others sitting, and perhaps laughing, and winking upon
their fellow schismatics, in scoff of those who practise
these decent orders of the church. And from hence the
mischief shall pass fxom priest to people, dividing them
also into irreconcilable parties and factions ; so that
some shall come to church when such an one preaches,
and absent themselves when another does. I will not
hear this formalist, says one ; and I will not hear that
schismatic, (with better reason,) says another. But in
the mean while, the church, by these horrible disorders,
is torn in pieces, and the common enemies of it, the
papists, and some (who hate it as much) gratified.
These, I say, are some of the certain, unavoidable ef
fects of comprehension ; nor indeed could any other,
or better, be expected by those, who kneAV, that their
surest way to ruin the church, would be to get into the
preferments of it. So that I dare avouch, that to
bring in comprehension, is nothing else but, in plain
terms, to establish a schism in the church by law, and
so bring a plague into the very bowels of it, which is
more than sufficiently endangered already, by having
one in its neighbourhood , a plague which shall eat
out the very heart and soul, and consume the vitals
and spirits of it, and this to such a degree, that in the
compass of a few years it shall scarce have any visible

S80 FALSE METHODS OF GOVERNING [Disc. VII.
being or subsistence, or so much as the face of a na
tional church to be known by.
**********
To return to the high and mighty piece of policy
sublimate, (as I may call it,) toleration. I am far from
grudging our dissenters the benefit of the law they
have obtained, (if it be such,) and farther from solicit
ing a repeal of it ; but being providentially engaged
in the subject I am now upon, I cannot but, as a di
vine, discharge my conscience both to God and the
world, by declaring what I judge according to the best
of my reason, unavoidably must be the consequences of
a thing, which this church and kingdom, ever since
they were a church and kingdom, have been wholly
strangers to. And because such consequences, if drawn
out to the utmost, would be innumerable ; I shall only
mention one, instead of all the rest, as being certain,
obvious, and undeniable ; and that is the vast increase
of sects and heresies amongst us, which, where, all re
straint is taken off, must of necessity grow to the high
est pitch, that the devil himself can raise such a babel
to ; so that there shall not be one bold, ringleading
knave or fool, who shall have the confidence to set up
a new sect, but shall find proselytes enough to wear
his name, and list themselves under his banner ; of
which the Quakers* axe a demonstration past all dis
pute. And then what a vast part of this poor, deluded
people must of necessity be drawn after these impos
tors ! So that as number and novelty generally run
down truth and paucity for a while ; the church, and
¦ orthodox part of the nation in communion with it, will
probably in a short space be overborn and swallowed
up by the spreading mischief.
****** * * *
Let all our separatists and dissenters know, that they
are the pope's journeymen to carry on his Avork, and
for aught I know, (were but king James amongst us,)
* George Fox, an illiterate cooler, first beginner and head of them.

Disc. VII] THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 381
might be treated, together with his nuncio, at Guild
hall. They are, I say, his tools, to do that for him,
which he cannot do for himself, (as a carpenter cannot
be an hatchet, how effectually soever he may use it.)
In a word, they are his harbingers and forerunners to
prepare and make plain a Avay for him to come amongst
us ; and consequently they, even they, who are the
loudest criers out against popery, are the surest and
most industrious factors for it. For it is evident to
the whole world, that it is their weakening the church
of England by their separation from it, and their un-
sufferable, virulent invectives against it, which makes
old reynard, the pope, with his wolves about him, pre
sume, that he may attack it now (being thus weaken
ed by our encouraged dissenters to his hands) with
victory and success. The thief first breaks the hedge
and mounds of the vineyard, to fetch away a few clus
ters ; but the wild boar enters by the same breach, and
makes havock of all. But let us, in the mean time,
with all christian submission, wait the good pleasure of
Almighty God and our governors, for one seven years,
and by that time I question not but we shall see what
this neAV project tends to, and is like to end in ; while,
at present, we have but too great reason to believe,
that the chief design of some of the busiest contrivers
and most indefatigable promoters of it, was, and is, by
such a promiscuous toleration of so many sects and he
resies amongt us, to bring the church of England at
length to need a toleration itself, and not to have it,
when it needs it.
As to which truly primitive church (whatsoever fate
may attend it) this may and must be said of it, that it
is a church which claims nothing of secular power to
itself, but like a poor orphan exposed naked and friend
less to the world, pretends to no other helps but. the
goodness of God, the piety of its principles, and the
justness of its own cause, to maintain it ; a church not
born into the Avorld with teeth and talons, like popery

382 FALSE METHODS OF GOVERNING [Disc. VII.
and presbytery, but like a lamb, innocent and defence
less, and silent, not only under the shearer, but under
the butcher too.
*********
And here let me utter a great, but sad truth ; a
truth not so fit to be spoke, as to be sighed out by every
true son and lover of the church, viz. that the wounds,
which the church of England now bleeds by, she re
ceived in the house of her friends, (if they may be
called so,) viz. hex treacherous, undermining friends,
and that most of the nonconformity to her, and sepa
ration from her, together with a contempt of her excel
lent constitutions, have proceeded from nothing more
than from the false, partial, half conformity of too
many of her ministers. The surplice sometime worn,
and oftener laid aside ; the liturgy so read, and man
gled in the reading, as if they were ashamed of it ; the
divine service so curtailed, as if the people were to
have the tenths of it from the priest, for the tenths he had
received from them ; the clerical habit neglected by
such in orders, as frequently travel the road clothed
like farmers or graziers, to the unspeakable shame and
scandal of their profession ; the holy sacrament slov
enly administered ; the furniture of the altar abused
and embezzled ; and the table of the Lord profaned.
These, and the like vile passages, have made some
schismatics, and confirmed others ; and, in a word,
have made so many nonconformists to the church, by
their conforming to their minister.
It was an observation of a judicious prelate, that of
all the sorts of enemies which our church had, there
was none so pernicious, and likely to prove so fatal to
it, as the conforming puritan. It was a great truth,
and not very many years after ratified by direful expe
rience. For if you would have the conforming puritan
described to you, as to what he is ;
He is one who lives by the altar, and turns his back
upon it ; one, who catches at the preferments of the

Disc. VII] THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 383
church, but hates the discipline and orders of it ; one,
who practises conformity, as papists take oaths and
tests, that is, with an inward abhorrence of what he
does for the present, and a resolution to act quite con
trary, when occasion serves ; one; who, during his con
formity, will be sure to be known by such a distinguish
ing badge, as shall point him out to, and secure his
credit with, .the dissenting brotherhood ; one, who still
declines reading the church service himself, leaving
that work to curates or readers, thereby to keep up a
profitable interest with thriving, seditious tradesmen,
and groaning, ignorant, but rich widows ; one, who,
in the midst of his conformity, thinks of a turn of state,
which may draw on one in the church too ; and ac
cordingly is very careful to behave himself so, as not
to overshoot his game, but to stand right and fair in case
a wish'd-for change should bring fanaticism again into
fashion ; which it is more than possible that he secret
ly desires, and does the utmost he can to promote and
bring about.

DISCOURSE VIII.
THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST.  1 Cor. xii. 4.

The Papists, who having swallowed and digested
the belief of so many, monstrous contradictions, would
do but very unwisely, if, for ever after, they should
stick at any advantageous absurdity ; these hold, that
the gift of miracles still continues ordinary in their
church : and that the christian religion has still the
same need of such miraculous confirmations, as it had
at first.
Where, if by the Christian. they mean their own
Popish religion, I am so fully of their mind, that I
think there is need, not only of daily, but even of hour
ly or rather continual miracles, to confirm it ; if it
were but in that one single article of transubstantia
tion. But then we know whose badge and character
the Scripture makes it, to come in lying wonders ;
and we know also, that lying wonders are true impos
tures : and theirs are of that nature, that the fallacy
is so gross, and the cheat so transparent in them, that,
as it hardens the Jews and Mahometans with a des
perate, invincible prejudice against Christianity, as a
thing as false as those miracles, which they see it re
commended by ; so, I am confident, that it causes ma
ny christians also to nauseate their own religion, and
to fall into secret atheism ; being apt to think (as even
these impostors also pretend) that the very miracles of
the apostles might be of the same nature, with those
which they see daily acted by these spiritual jugglers;
so that hereby the grand proof of Christianity falls to

Disc. VIII] THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. 385
the ground, and has no force or hold upon men's minds
at all. Whereas our Saviour himself laid the main
stress and credit of his gospel, and of his mission from
God, upon his miracles. The ivorks that I do (says
he) bear witness of me, (John x. 25.) And, Believe me
for my very works' sake, (John xiv. 11.) And, Had I
not done amongst them the works which no other man
did, they had not had sin, (John xv. 24.) So that we
see here, that the credit of all turned upon his mira
cles, his mighty and supernatural Avorks.
But as, Ave know, it often falls out, that, when a
man has once got the character of a liar, even truth
itself is suspected, if not absolutely disbelieved, when
it comes from the mouth of such an one : so these mi
racle-mongers have alarmed the world round about
them to a discernment of their tricks, Avhen they came
afterwards to preach Christianity, especially to infidels,
and to press it upon men's belief in the strength of
those miraculous works which were truly and really
done by Christ ; yet, since they pretend the same of
their own works too, (which all people see through,
and knoAV to be lies, and impostures) all, that they
preach of Christ, is presently looked upon as false, and
fictitious, and leaves the minds of men locked up under
a fixed, obstinate, and impregnable infidelity. Such
a fatal blow has the legerdemain of those wretches
given to the christian religion, and such jealousies have
they raised in some men's thoughts against it, by their
false miracles and fabulous stories of the romantic feats
of their pretended saints.
God has use of all the several tempers and constitu
tions of men, to serve the exigencies of his church by.
Amongst which some are of a sanguine, cheerful, and
debonair disposition, having their imaginations, for
the most part, filled and taken up with pleasing ideas,
and images of things ; seldom or never troubling their
49

386 THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. [Disc. VIII.
thoughts, either by looking too deep into them, or
dwelling too long upon them.
There are others of a melancholy, reserved, and se
vere temper, who think much and speak little ; and
these are the fittest to serve the church in the pen
sive, afflictive parts of religion; in the austerities of
mortification, in a retirement from the world, and a
settled composure of their thoughts to self-reflection
and meditation. And such also are the ablest to deal
with distressed consciences, to meet with their doubts,
and to answer their objections, and to ransack every
corner of their shifting, and fallacious hearts, &c. And
it is the same thoughtful temper of spirit, which must
enable others to serve the church in the hard and con
troversial parts of religion. Which sort of men (though
they should never rub men's itching ears from the
pulpit) the church can no more be without, than a gar
rison can be without soldiers, or a city without walls ;
or than a man can defend himself with his tongue,
when his enemy comes against him with his sword.
And therefore, great pity it is, that such as God has
peculiarly furnished, and (as it were) cut out for this
service, should be cast upon, and compelled to the
popular, speaking, noisy part of divinity ; it being all
one, as if, when a town is besieged, the governor of it
should call off a valiant and expert soldier from the
walls, to sing him a song or play him a lesson upon
the violin at a banquet, and then turn him out of town,
because he could not sing and play as well as he could
fight. And yet as ridiculous as this is, it is but too
like the humour of the present age ; which thinks all
sense and worth confined wholly to the pulpit. And
many excellent persons, because they cannot make a
noise with chapter and verse, and harangue it twice a
day to factious tradesmen, and ignorant old women,
are esteemed of as nothing, and scarce thought worthy
to eat the church's bread. But for all these false no
tions, and wrong measures of things and persons, so

Disc. VI1L] THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. 387
scandalously prevalent amongst us, wisdom (as our Sa
viour tells us) is and will be justified of her children.
But then again, there are others besides these, who
are of a more fervent spirit, having much of heat and
fire in their constitution : and God may and does serA'e
his church even by such kind of persons as these also,
as being particularly fitted to preach the terrifying
rigors and curses of the law 'to obstinate sinners ;
which is a work, of as high a consequence to the good
of souls, as it is, that men should be driven, if they
cannot be drawn of from their sins ; that they should
be cut and lanced, if they cannot otherwise be cured,
and that the terrible trump of the last judgment should
be always sounding in their ears, if nothing else can
awaken them. But then, while such persons are thus
busied in preaching of judgment, it is much to be
wished, that they would do it with judgment too; and
not preach hell and damnation to sinners so, as if they
were pleased with what they preached ; no, let them
rather take heed, that they mistake not their own fierce
temper for the mind of God ; for some I have known
to do so, and that at such a rate, that it was easy
enough to distinguish the humour of the speaker from
the nature of the thing he spoke. Let ministers"
threaten death and destruction even to the very worst
of men in such a manner, that it may appear to all
their sober hearers, that they do not desire, but fear
that tnese dreadful things should come to pass : let
them declare God's wrath against the impenitent, as I
have seen a Judge condemn a malefactor, with tears
in his eyes : for surely much more should a dispenser
of the word, while he is pronouncing the infinitely
more killing sentence of the divine law, grieve with
an inward-bleeding compassion for the misery of those
forlorn wretches, whom it is like to pass upon. But I
never knew any of the Geneva, ox Scotch model (which
sort of sanctified reprobationers we abound with)
either use, or like this way of preaching in my life ;

388 THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. [Di.SC. VIII.
but generally ivhips and scorpions, wrath and ven
geance, fire and brimstone, made both top and bottom,
front and rear, first and last of all their discourses.
But then, there are others again, of a gentler and
more tender genius, and these are full as serviceable
for the Avork of the ministry, as the former, though not
in the same AA'ay ; as being much fitter to represent
the meekness of Moses, than lo preach his law; to
bind up the broken-hearted, to speak comfort to the
weary, &c. Nature itself seems peculiarly to have
fitted such for the dispensations of grace. And Avhen
they are once put into the ministry, they are (as it
were) marked and singled out by Providence, to do those
benign offices to the souls of men, which persons of a
more vehement disposition are by no means so fit to do.
These are the men, Avhom God pitches upon for the
heralds of his mercy, with a peculiar emphasis and fe
licity of address, to issue out the pardons of the gos
pel, to close up the wounds which the legal preacher-
had made, to bathe and supple them with the oil of
gladness; and in a Avord, to crown the sorrows of re
pentance with the joys of assurance.
*******
God has made no man in opprobrium Natures, only
to overlook his fellow creatures, to upbraid them with
their defects, and to discourage them with the amazing
distance of the comparison : he has filled no man's in
tellectuals so full, but he has left some vacuities in
them, that may sometimes send him for supplies to
minds of a much lower pitch : he has stocked no land
with such universal plenty, without the mixture of
some wants, to be the ground and cause of commerce :
for mutual wants, and mutual perfections together, are
the bond and cement of conversation. The vast know
ledge and ruling abilities of Moses, might yet stand in
need of Aaron's elocution : and he who speaks with
the tongue of angels, and the greatest fluency of spi
ritual rhetoric, may yet be at a loss, when he comes

Disc. VIII.] THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. 389
to matters of controversy, and to assert the truth against
the sophistry of a subtle opponent.
* * * * * * * *
The foregoing doctrine affords us also a touchstone
for the trial of spirits : for, such as are the gifts, such
must be also the spirit from which they flow : and
since both of them have been so much pretended to,
it is well for the church, that it has the rule of judg
ment, and a note of discrimination. There is none,
who is not wilfully a stranger to the affairs of our Is
rael, but has had the noise and blusters of gifted bre
thren, and of persons pretending to the spirit, ring
ing in his ears. Concerning which plea of theirs, since
we all know, that there are spirits, both good and
bad, it cannot be denied, but that in some sense they
might have the spirit (such a spirit as it was) and that
in a very large measure : but as for their gifts, we
must examine them by the standard of those here men
tioned by the apostle.
And first, for that of prophecy : These men were
once full of a prophecy that the Avorld should be de
stroyed in the year 1656 ; because, forsooth, the flood
came upon the old world in that year reckoning from
the creation. And again, that the doAvnfal of pope
and antichrist, together with that of monarchy and
episcopacy, (which they always accounted as limbs of
antichrist) should be in the year 1666. And that be
cause some remarkable mention is made of the num
ber 666 in the Revelation ; with many other such like
predictions : the event of all which has shewn, that
those men were not of God's privy council ; but on
the contrary, that all their prophecies were like those
of almanacks, which warn every Avise body to prepare
against foul weather, by their foretelling/a/V.
And then for the gift of healing : let a bleeding
church and state shew, how notably they were gifted
that way. They played the chirurgeons indeed with
a witness, but we never yet heard that they acted the

390 THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. [Disc. VIII.
physician ; all their practice upon the body politic was
with powder and ball, sword and pistol. No saving
of life with those men, but by purging away the es
tate. And likewise for the gift of discerning of spirits :
they had their triers, that is, a court appointed for the
trial of ministers ; but most properly called Crom
well's inquisition ; in which they would pretend to
know men's hearts, and inward bent of their spirits
(as their word Avas) by their very looks. But the
truth is, as the chief pretence of those triers was to in
quire into men's gifts ; so if they found them but well
gifted in the hand, they never looked any further ; for
a full and free hand was with them an abundant
demonstration of a gracious heart ; a word in great
] request in those times.
And moreover, for the gifts of divers tongues : it is
certain, that they scarce spake the same thing for two
days together. Though otherwise it must be confess
ed, that they were none of the greatest linguists ; their
own mother tongue serving all their occasions, without
ever so much as looking into the fathers, who always
spoke the language of the beast to such as could not
f understand them. Latin was with them a mortal
' crime, and Greek, instead of being owned for the lan-
'guage of the Holy Ghost, (as in the New Testament
f it is,) was looked upon like the sin against it ; so that
j in a Avord, they had all the confusions of Babel among
them, without the diversity of tongues.
And lastly, for the gift of interpreting ; they
thought themselves no ordinary men at expounding a
chapter ; if the turning of a few rational significant
words and sentences into a loose, tedious harangue,
could be called an exposition. But above all, for their
interpreting gift, you must take them upon Ezekiel,
Daniel, and the Revelation ; and from thence (as it
were) out of a dark prophetical cloud, thundering
against the old cavaliers, and the church of England,

Disc. VIIL] THE CHRISTIAN PENTECOST. 391
and (as I may but too appositely express it) breaking
them upon the wheels in Ezekiel, casting them
to the beasts in Daniel, and pouring upon them
all the vials in the Revelation. After which let any
one deny it who durst, that the black decree was
absolutely passed upon those malignants, and that
they were all of them, to a man, sons of reprobation.
And thus, I think, I have reckoned up most of the
extraordinary gifts of the spirit, and compared them
with those of our late gifted brethren.
*******
This emanation of gifts from the spirit, assures
us that knowledge and learning are by no means op
posite to grace ; since we see gifts as well as graces
conferred by the same spirit. But amongst those of
the late reforming age, (whom we have been speak
ing of,) all learning was utterly cried down. So that
with them the best preachers were such as could not
read, and the ablest divines such as could not write.
In all their preachments, they so highly pretended to
the spirit, that they could hardly so much as spell the
letter. To be blind, was with them the proper quali
fication of a spiritual guide, and to be book-learned
(as they called it) and to be irreligious, were almost
terms convertible. None were thought fit for the
, ministry but tradesmen and mechanics, because none
else were alloAved to have the spirit. Those only
were accounted like St. Paul, who could work with
their hands, and in a literal sense, drive the nail home,
and be able to make a pulpit, before they preached
in it.

DISCOURSE IX.
CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. — Numb.XXXlU 23.

God has annexed two great evils to every sin, in
opposition to the pleasure and profit of it ; to wit,
shame and pain. He has by an eternal decree, made
these two, the inseparable effects and consequents of sin.
They are the ivages assigned it by the laws of heaven ;
so that whosoever commits it, ought to account shame
and punishment to belong to him, as his rightful inhe
ritance. For it is God Avho has joined them together
by an irreversible sentence; and it is not in the power
or art of man to put them asunder. And there is
nothing Avhich the nature of man does so peculiarly
dread as these ; they being indeed the most directly
destructiA^e of all its enjoyments : forasmuch as they
reach and confound it in the adequate subject of enjoy
ment, the soul and body ; shame being properly the
torment of the one, and pain of the other. For the
mind of man can have no taste of any pleasure in the
Avorld, Avhile it is actually overwhelmed with shame ;
nothing does so intolerably affect the soul, as infamy :
It drinks up, and consumes the quickness, the gaiety,
and activity of the spirits : It dejects the countenance,
made by God himself to look upwards ; so that this
noble creature, the master-piece of the creation, dares
not so much as lift up either his head or his thoughts,
but it is a vexation to him even to look upon others,
and yet a greater to be looked upon by them. And as
shame thus mortifies the soul, so pain or punishment

Disc. IX.] CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. 393
(the other twin-effect of sin) equally harasses the
body. ;
* * * * * , * * . . *
Men consider the success they have actually had iii
the commission of many sins ; and this proves an en-'
couraging argument to them to commit the same for
the future ; as naturally suggesting this to their
thoughts, that what they have done so often, without
either discovery ox punishment, may be so done by them
again. For nothing does so much confirm a man in
the continuance of any practice, as frequent experience
of success in Avhat he does ; the proper, genuine result
of this, being confidence. Some indeed stumble in
their very first entrance upon a sinful course ; and this
their disappointment frequently proves their cure, by
making them to retreat timely, disheartened with so
unfortunate a beginning. And it is (no doubt) the
singular mercy of God to such, thus to turn them out
of the paths of destruction ; which had they found
smooth, safe, and pleasurable, the corruption of their
hearts would have infallibly engaged them in them to
their lives' end. That traveller, surely, has but little
cause to complain, who, by breaking a leg or an arm,
at his first setting out upon an unfortunate journey,
prevents the losing of his head at his journey's end ; it
being but a very uncomfortable way of travelling, to
finish one's journey and one's life together. Great rea
son, therefore, have they to own themselves particularly
favoured by Providence, who have been in the very
first attempts of sin, snatched (as it were a brand) out
of the fire, or (which is yet better) have been kept
from ever falling into it : Their being scorched, has
prevented their being burnt ; while the fright, caused
by the danger they so narrowly escaped, has been al
ways fresh upon their memories : And such as come
to be thus happily frighted into their wits, are not so
easily fooled out of them again. In short, all frustra
tion in the first essavs of a vicious course, is a baalk to
50

394 CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. [DlSC. IX.
the; confidence of the bold undertaker. And therefore,
when God is pleased to leave a man under the full
sway of any vice, he does not concern his Provi
dence to lay any block in such an one's way, but suf
fers him to effect all his projects, and compass the full
satisfaction of his lewd desires. And this flushes him
up, and makes him hard and insensible ; and that makes
bim venturous and daring ; and so locks him fast in
the embraces of his sin, while he has not the least sur
mise of the sadness of the issue, and that the present
sweets of sin, will and must be bitterness in the end ;
but like a sot in a tavern, first drinks himself drunk,
and then forgets that there is a reckoning to be paid.
Such an one, the devil accounts he has fast enough^
and for that cause, none shall so studiously endeavour
to promote a man?s quiet and success in sin, as he who
at present tempts him to it, and will hereafter torment
him for it. For the devil desires not that the sinner
should feel any trouble for sin, till he comes to feel it
for good and all in that place, which is designed only
for payment, and not amendment; and where all that
he can do or suffer to eternal ages, can contribute
nothing to his release. Ana therefore that the sinner
may sleep on soundly in his sin, the devil will be
sure to make his bed soft enough. It is said of the
Spaniard, that there are two things much accounted
of, and desired by many in the world, which yet he
heartily wishes his enemy ; one is, that if he be a
gamester, he may win ; the other, that if he be a court-
er of women, he may obtain his desires ; for that he
knows well enough, that either of these courses will,
in all likelihood, prove his undoing at long run.
# * ¦ * * * * *
Could we hear the secret language of most men's
thoughts, we should hear them making such kind of
answers to the checks of conscience dissuading them
from sin, and laying the danger of it before them, as
these : Pray, what mischief befel such an oppressor,

Disc. IX.] CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. 3,95
such a tyrant, or such a rebel ? And Avho passed his
life with more affluence and jollity, than such an epi
cure, such a money-monger, such a talley-broker and
cheater of the public ? And have not some dexte
rous accomptants got estates, and made their fortunes,
by a clever stroke or two of their pen ? And by a
skilful mistake, wrote themselves forty or fifty thou
sand pounds richer than they were before, in a trice ?
And did not that discreet Roman Verres, lighting into
a wealthy province, carry off from thence enough to
serve himself, his friends, and his judges too ? And
why may not others, whose parts lie the same way,
follow such lucky examples ? And the thriving hyr
pocrites of the present age find as fair quarter from
God and man, as any of the former ? With such
considerations as these, (if they may be called so,) men
commonly arm themselves against all the threatenings
of the divine judgments; and think that, in the
strength of them, they can warrant the most reso
lute pursuit of their vices for safe and rational. They
see not the smoke of the bottomless pit, and so dread
not the fire.
Flourishing sinners are indeed plausible arguments
to induce men to sin : But, thanks be to God, that
for a sinner to spend and end his days flourishing,
is a privilege allowed by him to very few ; and those
only such, as are likely to be much lower in the
other world, than ever they were high in this.
*******
God sometimes makes one sin the means of discov
ering another; it often falling out with two vices, as
with two rogues ; of whom it is hard to say, which
is worse, and yet one of them may serve well enough
to betray the other. How many have by their drunk
enness disclosed their thefts, their lusts, and murders,
which might have been buried in perpetual silence,
had not the sottish committers of them buried their
reason in their cups? For the tongue is then got

3156 CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. [Disc. XL
loose from its obedience to reason, and commanded at
all adventures by the fumes of a distempered brain and
a roving imagination; and so presently pours forth
whatsover they shall suggest to it, sometimes casting
away life, fortune, reputation, and all in a breath.
And how does the confident sinner know, but the
grace of God, which he has so often affronted, may
some time or other desert, and give him up to the sor
did temptations of the jug, and the bottle, which shall
make the doors of his heart fly open ; and cause his
own tongue to give in evidence against him, for all the
villanies which had lain so long heaped up, and con
cealed in his guilty breast ? For let no man think, that
he has the secrets of his own mind in his own power,
while he has not himself so ; as it is most certain that
he has not, who is actually under a debauch : For this
turns all the faculties of the soul topsy-turvy ; like a
storm tossing and troubling the sea, till it makes all
the foul, black stuff, which lay at the bottom, to swim
upon the top.
In like manner, the drunken man's heart floats upon
his lips, and his inmost thoughts write themselves upon
his forehead; and therefore, as it is an usual, and in
deed a very rational saying, that a liar ought to have
a good memory ; so upon the like account, a person of
great guilt ought to be also a person of great sobriety ;
lest otherwise his very soul should, some time or other,
chance to be poured out with his liquor : For com
monly, the same hand which pierces the vessel, broach
es the heart also, and it is no strange, nor unusual
passage from the tavern to the jail.
God sometimes infatuates, and strikes the sinner
with frenzy and distraction, as causes him to reveal all
his hidden baseness ; and to blab out such truths, as
Avill be sure to be revenged upon him who speaks
them. In a word, God blasts his understanding, for
having used it so much to the dishonour of him who
gave it ; and delivers him over to a sort of madness,

Disc. IX.] CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. 397
too black and criminal to be allowed any refuge in bed
lam. And for this, there have been several fearful in
stances of such wretched contemners of heaven, as
having, for many years, outfaced all the world, both
about them, and above them too, with a solemn look
and a demure countenance, have yet, at length, had
their loathsome inside turned outwards, and been made
an abhorred spectacle to men and angels.
* * * * * * *
Some sorts of sin there are, which will lie burn
ing and boiling in the sinner's breast, like a kind
of Vesuvius, or fire pent up in the bowels of the
earth'; which yet must, and will (in spite of all ob
stacles) force its way out of it at length ; and thus,
in some cases of sin, the anguish of the mind grows
so fierce and intolerable, that it finds no rest within
itself, but it is even ready to burst, till it is deliver
ed of the swelling secret it labours with : Such kind
of guilt being to the conscience, like some offensive
meats to the stomach, which no sooner takes them
in, but it is in pain and travail, till it throws them
out again. *******
God sometimes takes the work of vengeance upon
himself, and immediately, with his own arm, repays
the sinner, by some notable judgment from heaven :
Sometimes, perhaps, he strikes him dead suddenly ;
and sometimes he smites him with some loathsome
disease, (which will hardly be thought the gout, what
soever it may be called,) and, sometimes again, he
strangely blasts him in his name, family, or estate, so
that all about him stand amazed at the blow ; but God
and the sinner himself know Avell enough the reason
and the meaning of it too.
Justice, we know, uses to be pictured blind, and
therefore it finds out the sinner, not with its eyes, but
with its hands ; not by seeing, but by striking : And
it is the honour of the great attribute of God's justice,

398 CONCEALMENT OF SIN, NO SECURITY. [Disc IX
which he thinks so much concerned, to give some
pledge of itself upon bold sinners in this world ; and so
to assure them of a full payment hereafter, by paying
them something in the way of earnest here.
*********
These are some of the chief ways by which God
finds out the sinner in this life. But what now, if
none of all these should reach his case, but that he
carries his crimes all his life closely, and ends that
quietly ; and perhaps in the eye of the world, honour
ably too ; and so has the good luck to have his shame
cast into the same ground with his carcass ? Why yet,
for all this, the man has not escaped ; but his guilt
still haunts, and follows him into the other world,
where there can be no longer a concealment of it, but
it must inevitably find him out. For, when the judg
ment shall be set, the books shall be also opened ; even
those doomsday books, (as I may so call them,) where
in God has kept a complete register of all the villanies
that were ever committed against him, which then
shall be read aloud in the audience of that terrible
court. The consideration of which, surely, may well
put those excellent words of the apostle, (Rom. vi. 21.)
with this little alteration of them, into our mouths.
What fruit can we [now] have of those things, where
of toe shall [then] be ashamed!

DISCOURSE X.
OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN'S SINS.  Rom. i. 32.

This is so great a master-piece in sin, that no man
begins with it : He must have passed his tyrocinium,
or noviciate, in sinning, before he can come to this, be
he never so quick a proficient. No man can mount so
fast, as to set his foot upon the highest step of the lad
der at first. Before a man can come to be pleased
with a sin, before he sees his neighbour commit it, he
must have had such a long acquaintance with it him
self, as to create a kind of intimacy betAveen him and
that ; and then, we know, a man is naturally glad to
see his old friend, not only at his own house, but
wheresoever he meets him. It is generally the proper
ty of an old sinner to find a delight in reviewing his
own villanies in the practice of other men ; to see his
sin, and himself (as it were) in reversion ; and to find
a greater satisfaction in beholding him, who succeeds
him in his vice, than him who is to succeed him in his
estate. In the matter of sin, age makes a greater
change upon the soul, than it does or can, upon the
body. And as, if we compare the picture of a man,
drawn at the years of seventeen or eighteen, with a
picture of the same at threescore and ten, hardly the
least trace of one face can be found in the other : so
for the soul, the difference of the qualities of the inner
man, will be found much greater. Compare the harmless-
ness, credulity, tenderness, modesty, and ingenious plia-
bleness to virtuous counsels, which is in youth, as it

400 OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN'S SINS. [Disc. X.
comes fresh and untainted out of the hands of nature,
with the mischievousness, craft, impudence, falsehood,
and confirmed obstinacy in most sorts of sin, that is
to be found in a long-practised sinner, and you will
confess the hue of his soul, to be altered more than
that of his face. Age has given him another body,
and custom another mind. All those seeds of virtue,
that Avere the natural endowments of our first years,
are lost for ever. And in respect of the native inno
cence of childhood, no man, through old age, becomes
tivice a child. The vices of old age have in them the
stiffness of it too. And as it is the unfittest time to learn
in, so the unfitness of it to unlearn, will be found much
greater. Which considerations, joined with that of its imbe
cility, make it the proper season for a superannuated
sinner to enjoy the delights of sin in the rebound ; and
to supply the impotence of practice by the airy, fan
tastic pleasure of memory and reflection. For all that
can be allowed him now, is to refresh his decrepit, effete
sensuality, with the transcript of his former life, recog
nised, and read over by him, in the vicious rants of the
vigorous, youthful debauchees of the present time,
whom (with an odd kind of passion, mixed with plea
sure, and envy too) he sees flourishing in all the brayery
and prime of their age and vice. An old wrestler loves
to look on, and to be near the lists, though feebleness
will not let him offer at the prize. An old huntsman
finds a music in the noise of hounds, though he cannot
follow the chace. An old drunkard loves a tavern,
though he cannot go to it, but as he is supported, and
led by another, just as some are observed to come from
thence. And an old wantqn will be doating upon
Women, when he can scarce see them without specta
cles. And to shew the true love and allegiance that
the old servants and subjects of vice ever after bear to
it, nothing is more frequent, than to hear, that such as
have been strumpets in their youth, turn procurers in

Disc. X.] OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN's SINS. 401
their age. Their great concern is, that the vice may /
still go on.
*********
But if now, we should chance to find a father cor
rupting his son, or a mother debauching her daughter,
as (God knows, such monsters have been seen within
the four seas) Ave must not charge this barely upon an
high predominance of vice in these persons, but much
more upon a peculiar anomaly, and baseness of nature ;
if the name of nature may be allowed to that which
seems to be an utter cashiering of it, a contradiction
to the common principles of humanity. For this is
such a disposition, as strips the father of the man ; as
makes him sacrifice his children to Moloch ; and as
much out-do the cruelty of a cannibal, or a Saturn,
as it is more barbarous to damn a child than to devour
him. We sometimes read and hear of monstrous births,
but we may often see a greater monstrosity in educa
tions ; thus, when a father has begot a man, he trains
him up into a beast ; making even his own house a
stew, and a school of lewdness, to instil the rudiments
of vice into the unwary, flexible years of his poor chil
dren, poisoning their tender minds with the irresisti
ble, authentic venom of his base example ; so that all
the instruction they find within their father's walls,
shall be only to be disciplined to an earlier practice of
sin, to be catechised into all the mysteries of iniquity,
and at length, confirmed in a mature, incorrigible de
bauchery. And this some parents call a teaching their
children to know the world, and to study men : thus
leading them (as it were) by the hand, through all the
forms and classes of villany, till at length they make
them ten times more the children of the devil, than
themselves. Now, I say, if the unparalleled wicked
ness of the age should at any time cast us upon such
blemishes of mankind as these, who, while they thus
treat their children, should usurp the name of parents;
let us not call them by the low, diminutive title of
wicked, or ungodly men ; but let us look upon them
51

402 OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN'S SINS. [Disc. X.
as so many prodigious exceptions from our common
nature, as so many portentous animals, like the strange
unnatural productions of Africa, and fit to be publicly
shewn, were they not unfit to be seen.
*******
The writings, both of the Old and New Testament,
make it very difficult for a man to be saved ; but the
writings of these men (the Antinomians) make it more
difficult for any one to be damned : for where there
is no sin, there can be no damnation. And, as these
men have confounded the natures and properties of
things by their wretched sophistry, though an act be
never so sinful, they will be sure to strip it of its guilt ;
and to make the very law and rule of action so pliable,
that it shaUs be impossible to be broke. So that he,
who goes to hell, must pass through a narrower gate
than that, which the gospel says, leads to heaven.
For that, we are told, is only straight, but this is ab
solutely shut ; and so shut, that sin eannot pass it, and
therefore it is much if a sinner should.
So insufferably have these impostors poisoned the
fountains of morality, perverted and embased the very
standaud of good and evil. So that all their writings
are but debauchery upon record, and impiety register
ed, and consigned over to posterity.
And to sheAV how far the malignity of this way of
sinning reaches ; he* who has vented a pernicious doc
trine or published an ill book, must know that his guilt
and his life determine not together : no, such an one
(as the 'apostle says) being dead, yet speaketh ; he
sins in his very grave, corrupts others while he is rot
ting himself, and has a growing account in the other
world, after he has paid nature's last debt in this : and
in. a word, quits this life like a man carried off by the
plague ; who, though he dies himself, yet does execu
tion upon others by a surviving infection.
*******
With great variety of such kind of traders for hell,
as these, has, the nation of late years abounded:

Disc. X.] OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN'S SINS. 403
Wretches who live upon the shark, and other men's
sins, the common poisoners of youth, equally desper
ate in their fortunes, and their manners, and getting
their very bread by the damnation of souls. So that
if any unexperienced young novice, happens into the
fatal neighbourhood of such pests, presently they are
upon him, plying his full purse and his empty pate with
addresses suitable to his vanity ; telling him, what pity
it is, that one so accomplished for parts and person,
should smother himself in the country, where he can
learn nothing of gallantry or behaviour ; as how to
make his court, to hector a drawer, to cog the dye, or
storm a brothel ; but must of necessity live and die ig
norant of what it is to trapan, or be trapanned, to sup,
or rather dine at midnight in a tavern, Avith the noise
of oaths, blasphemies, and fiddlers about his ears, and
to fight every watch and constable at his return from
thence, and to be beaten by them : but must at length,
poor man ! die dully of old age at home ; when here
he might so genteely, long before that time, have
been duelled or fluxed into another world.
*******
1 doubt not, (how much soever knaves may abuse
fools with words for a time,) but there will come a
day, in which the most active Papists will be found
under the Puritan mask ; in which it will appear, that
the conventicle has been the Jesuits' safest kennel, and
the Papists themselves, as well as the fanatics, have
been managers of all those monstrous out-cries against
Popery, to the ruin of those Protestants whom they
most hate, and whom alone they fear. It being no
unheard of trick for a thief, when he is closely pursu
ed, to cry out, stop ihe thief, and thereby diverting the
suspicion from himself, to get clear away. It is also
worth our while, to consider with what terms of re
spect knaves and sots will speak of their own fraterni
ty. As, what an honest, what a worthy man is such
an one .' And what a good-natured person is ano
ther! According to which terms, such as are factious,

404 OF DELIGHT IN OTHER MEN'S SINS. [Disc. X.
by worthy men, mean only such as are united in the
same designs against the government with themselves.
And such as are brothers of the pot, by a good-natur
ed person, mean only a true, trusty debauchee, who
never stands out at a merry-meeting, so Jong as he is
able to stand at all ; nor ever refuses an health, while
he has enough of his oAvn to pledge it with.
********
For, in respect of vice, nothing is more usual now-a-
days, than for boys illico nasci senes. They see their
betters delight in ill things : they observe reputation,
to attend the practice of them ; and this carries them
on furiously to that, which, of themselves, they are but
too much inclined to ; and which laws were purposely
made by wise men to keep them from. They are
glad, you may be sure, to please and prefer them
selves at once.
And, as they are come to this rampancy of vice, in
a great measure, from the countenance of their superi
ors ; so they have took some steps higher in the same
from this, that the follies and extravagances of the
young,* too frequently carry with them the approbation
of the old. For age, which unavoidably is but one re
move from death, and consequently should have no
thing about it, but what looks like a decent preparation
for it, scarce ever appears of late days, but in the high
mode, the flaunting garb, and utmost gaudery of youth ;
with clothes as ridiculous, and as much in the fashion,
as the person that wears them is usually grown out of
it. The eldest equal the youngest in the vanity of their
dress, and no other reason can be given of it, but that
they equal, if not surpass them in the vanity of their
desires. So that those who by the majesty and (as
I may so say) the prerogative of their age, should even
frown youth into sobriety and better manners, are now
striving all they can, to imitate and strike in with
them, and to be really vicious, that they may be
thought to be young.

DISCOURSE XI.

SHAMELESS SIN, THE SURE PRECURSOR OF RUIN.
Jer. vi. 15.

Shame above all other things is properly the torment
of the soul, and (considering the innate generosity of
man's mind disposing him to prefer a good name be
fore life itself,) is much more grievous and insupport
able to him, than other inflictions. So that in that
grand exemplar of suffering, even our Saviour himself,
his enduring the cross is heightened and set off by his
despising the shame, as that which far surpassed all
the cruelties of the rods, the nails, and the spear, and
upon the truest estimate of pain, much the bitterer
passion of the two. And from hence also it is, that
no penal laws are found so forcible for the control of
vice, as those wherein shame makes the chief ingredi
ent of the penalty. Death at the block, looks not so
grim and dismal as death at the gibbet; "for here it
meets a man clad with infamy and reproach, which
does a more grievous execution upon his mind, than
the other can upon his body. Nay, wounds, and pain,
and death itself, from terrible, sometimes become con
temptible, where they are looked upon but as a passage
to honour, and many are easily brought to write their
names with their own blood in the records of fame and
immortality. * * • * * # * *
The examples of great persons take away the shame
of any thing which they are observed to practise, though
never so foul and shameful in itself. Every such person

406 SHAMELESS SIN, THE SURE [DlSC. XL
stamps a kind of authority upon what he does ; and
the examples of superiors (and much more of sove
reigns) are both a rule and an encouragement to their
inferiors. The action is seldom abhorred, where the
agent is admired ; and the filth of one is hardly taken
notice of, where the lustre of the other dazzles the be
holder. Nothing is, or can be more coutagious, than
an ill action set off with a great example : For it is
natural for men to imitate those above them, and to
endeavour to resemble (at least) that, which they can
not be. And therefore, whatsoever they see such
grandees do, quickly becomes current and creditable,
it passes cum privilegio ; and no man blushes at the
imitation of a scarlet, or a purple sinner, though the
sin be so too.
*******
The observation oftlie general and common practice
of any thing, takes away the shame of that practice.
Better be out of the world, than not be like the world,
is the language of most hearts. The commonness of
a practice rums it into a fashion, and few, we know,
are ashamed to follow that. A vice a-la-mode will
look virtue itself out of countenance, and it is well if
it does not look it out of heart too. Men love not to
be found singular, especially where the singularity lies
in the rugged paths of virtue. Company causes con
fidence, and multitude gives both credit and defence,
credit to the crime, and defence to the criminal. The
fearfullest and the basest creatures, got into herds and
flocks, become bold and daring ; and the modestest
natures, hardened by the fellowship of others in the
same vicious course, grow into another frame of spirit ;
and in a short time lose all apprehension of the inde
cency and foulness of that, which they have so fa
miliarly and so long conversed Avith. Impudence fights
with and by number, and by multitude becomes victo
rious. For no man is ashamed to look his felloAV thief
or drunkard in the face, or to own a rebellious design
in the head of a rebel-army.

Disc. XI.] PRECURSOR OF RUIN. 407
And Ave see, every day, what a degree of shameless-
ness the common practice of some sins amongst us has
brought the generality of the nation to ; so that per
sons of that sex, whose proper ornament should be
bashfulness and modesty, are grown bold and forward,
offer themselves into company, and even invite those
addresses, which the severity of former times would
have scorned to admit : From the retirements of the
closet, they are come to brave it in theatres and tav-
erns ; where virtue and modesty are drunk down, and
honour left behind lo pay the reckoning. And now,
ask such persons, with Avhat face they can assume such
unbecoming liberties ; and they shall answer you, that
it is the mode, the gallantry, and the genteel freedom
of the present age, which has redeemed itself from
the pitiful pedantry and absurd scrupulosity of former
times, in which those bugbears of credit and conscience
spoiled all the pleasure, the air, and fineness of conver
sation. This is all the account you shall have from
them ; and thus, when common practice has vouched
for an ill thing, and called it by a plausible name, the
credit of the word shall take away the shame of the
thing : Vice grows triumphant ; and knowing itself to
be in its full glory, scorns to fly to corners or conceal
ments, but loves to be seen and gazed upon, and has
thrown off the mask ox vizard as an useless, unfashion
able thing. This, I say, is the guise of our age, our
free thinking, and freer practising age, in which people
generally are ashamed of nothing, but to be virtuous,
and to be thought old.
*******
The last degree of shamelessness in sin, is to glory
in it. And higher than this, the corruption of man's
nature (as corrupt as it is) cannot possibly go ; though,
the truth is, this may seem to proceed, not so much
from a corruption of it, as from something that is a di
rect contradiction to it. For can any thing in nature
incline a man to glory in his imperfections ? To plume

408 SHAMELESS SIN, &C [Disc. XI.
himself in his deformities ? Was ever any one yet
seen to boast of a blear-eye, or a crook-back ? And
are not the defects of the soul, by so much the more
ugly, by how much the soul is naturally more noble
than the body ?
Yet some there are, who have shook off reason and
humanity so far, as to trumpet out those villanies upon
the house tops, which such as sin but at an ordinary
rate of wickedness, commit only in the corners of
them : They declare their sin as Sodom, and hide it
not. For may we not hear some vaunting what quan
tities of drink they can pour down? And how many
weak brethren they have in such heroic pot-combats
laid under the table ? And do not others report with
ostentation, how dexterously they have over-reached
their well-meaning neighbour ? How neatly they have
gulled him of his estate, or abused him in his bed ?
•And lastly, have not some arrived to that frontless im
pudence, as to say openly, that they hoped to live to
see the day, in which an honest woman, or a virtuous
man, should be ashamed to show their head in company ?
How long such persons may live, I know not ; how
long they deserve to live, it is easy to tell. And I dare af
firm, that it is as much the concern of government, that
the utterers of such things should be laid hold on by
the hand of public justice, as to put to death any com
mon malefactor. For this is publicly to set up a stan
dard in the behalf of vice. I must confess, I am
ashamed thus to lay open men's want of shame. But
whosoever they are, who are come to this height, let
them know that they are consummate in vice, and up
on all accounts so unspeakably bad, that the devil him
self can neither make nor wish them worse.

DISCOURSE XII.
of covetousness. — Luke xii. 15.

We never find the scripture commending any prodi
gal but one, and him too only for his ceasing to be so.
Whose courses, if we reflect upon, we shall see his
prodigality bringing him from his revelling companions,
and his riotous meats, to the swine and to the trough ;
and from imitating their sensuality, by a natural con
sequence to take up with their diet too. Prodigality
is the devil's steward and purse-bearer, ministering to
all sorts of vice ; and it is hard, if not impossible, for
a prodigal person to be guilty of no other vice, but
prodigality. For men generally are prodigal, because
they are first intemperate, luxurious, or ambitious.
And these, we know, are vices too brave and costly to
be kept at an easy rate ; they must have large pen
sions, and be fed with both hands, though the man
who feeds them starves for his pains. From whence
it is evident, that that which only retrenches the sup
plies of these gaping, boundless appetites, is so far
from deserving the ugly name of avarice, that it is a
noble instrument of virtue, a step to grace, and a great
preparation of nature for religion." In a word, so far
as parsimony is a part of prudence, it can be no part of
covetousness. *********
Covetousness implies in it a rapacity in getting ;
when men (as it were) with open mouth fly upon
the prey ; and catch with that eagerness, as if they could
52

410 of covetousness. [Disc. XII.
never open their hands wide enough, nor reach them
out far enough, to compass the objects of their bound
less desires. So that, had they (as the fable goes of
Briar eus) each of them an hundred hands, they Avould
all of them be employed in grasping and gathering,
and hardly one of them in giving or laying out ; but
all in receiving, and none in restoring ; a thing in it
self so monstrous, that nothing in nature besides is
like it, except it be death and the grave. This
ravenous, vulture-like disposition, the wise man express
es, by making haste to be rich, adding withal, that he
who does so, shall not be innocent. Hence it is, that
Ave see some estates, like mushrooms, spring up in a
night, and some who were begging or borrowing at
the beginning of the year, ready to be purchasers be
fore it comes about. But this is by no means the
course or method of nature ; the advances of which
are still gradual, and scarce discernible in their mo
tions, but only visible in their issue. For no body
perceives the grass grow, or the shadow move upon
the dial, till after some time and leisure we reflect
upon their progress.
Upon the whole matter, the greedy getter is like the
greedy eater; it is possible, that by taking in too fast,
he may choak or surfeit, but he will hardly nourish
and strengthen himself, or serve any of the noble pur
poses of nature, which rather intends the security of
his health, than the gratification of his appetite.
**********
When God calls needy, hungry persons to places
and opportunities of raising their fortunes, (a thing
which of late has happened very often,) it concerns
them to think seriously of the greatness of the temp
tation which is before them, and to consider the dan
ger of a full table to a person ready to starve. But
generally such, as in this manner step immediately out
of poverty into power, know no bounds, but are intoler
able in their exactions. So that Solomon most ele-

Disc. XII] OF COVETOUSNESS. 411
gantly compares a poor man oppressing the poor, to a
sweeping rain which leaves no food ; a rain which
carries off all clean before it ; the least finger of a poor
oppressor being heavier than the loins of a rich one ;
for while one is contented to fleece the skin, the other
strips the very bones ; and all this to redeem the time
of his former poverty, and at one leap (as it were) to
pass into a full and magnificent condition. Though,
for the most part, the righteous judgment of God over
takes such persons in the issue, and commonly appoints
this for their lot, that estates sudden in ihe getting, are
but short in the continuance. They rose (as I shew)
like land-floods, and like them they fell.
*******
Covetousness commands in chief, in most of the in
surrections and murders which have infested the world ;
and most of the perjuries and pious frauds which have
shamed down religion, and even dissolved society, have
been resolved into the commanding dictates of this
vice. So that, whatsoever has been pretended, gain
has still been the thing aimed at, both in the grosser
outrages of an open violence, and the sanctified rogue
ries of a more refined dissimulation. None ever acted
the traitor and the Judas expertly, and to the purpose,
but still there was a quid dabitis behind the curtain.
Nay, so mighty a sway does this pecuniary interest
bear even in matters of religion, that toleration itself,
(as sovereign a virtue as it is said to be of, for preserv
ing order in the church,) yet, without contribution,
would hardly be able to support the separate meetings
of the dissenting brotherhood ; but that, if the people
should once grow sullen, and shut up their purses, it
is shrewdly to be feared, that the preachers themselves
would shut up the conventicles too : At present, 'tis
confessed, the trade is quick and gainful, but still, like
other trades, not to be caried on without money.
Gold is the best cordial to keep the good old cause in
heart ; and there is little danger of its fainting, and

412 OF covetousness. [Disc. XII.
much less of starving, with so much of that in its
pocket. The truth is, covetousness is a vice of such superin-
tendency over all other vices, that it will serve its turn,
even by those, which at first view seem most contrary
to it. So that it will command votaries to itself, even
out of the tribe of Epicurus, and make uncleanness,
drunkenness, and intemperance itself minister to its de
signs ; for let a man be but rich and great, and there
shall be enough to humour him in his lusts, that they
may go sharers with him in his wealth ; enough to
carouse with him, if by drinking with him, they may
come also to eat, and drink, and live upon him, and
by creeping into 'his bosom, to get into his pocket
too ; so that' we need not go to the cozening, lying,
perjured shop-keeper, who will curse himself into hell
forty times over, to gain two-pence or three-pence
in the pound extraordinary, and sits retailing away
heaven and salvation for pence and half-pence, and
seldom vends any commodity, but he sells his soul
with it, like brown paper, into the bargain. I say,
we need not go to these forlorn wretches, to find
where the covetous man dwells, for sometimes we may
find him also in a clean contrary disguise, perhaps gal
lanting it with his ladies ; or drinking and roaring, and
shaking his elbow in a tavern with some rich young
cully by his side ; AVho, from his dull, rustic, converse,
(as some will have it,) is newly come to town to see
fashions, and know men (forsooth ;) and having newly
buried his father in the country, to give his estate a
more honourable burial in the city.
In short, the covetous person puts on all shapes,
runs through all professions, haunts all places, and
makes himself expert in the mystery of all vices, that
he may the better pay his devotions to his god, Mam
mon. And so, in a quite different way from that bf
the blessed apostle, he becomes all things to all men,
that he may by any means gain something; for he

Disc. XII] OF COVETOUSNESS. 413
cares not much for gaining persons, where he can
gain nothing else.
* * * * * * *
The covetous person lives as if the world were
made altogether for him, and not he for the world.
Charity is accounted no grace with him, nor grati
tude any virtue. The cries of the poor never enter
into his ears; or if they do, he has always one ear
readier to let them out, than the other to take them
in. So that it is a question, whether his heart be
harder, or his fist closer. In a word, he is a pest
and a monster ; greedier than the sea, and barrener
than the shore ; a scandal to religion* and an exception
from common humanity.
Creditor and debtor divide the world, and he who
is not one, is certainly the other. But the covetous
wretch does not only shut his hand to the poor in point
of relief, but to others also in point of debt. Upon
which account, the apostle James upbraids the rich
men, Behold the hire of the labourers who have reaped
down your fields, which of you is kept back, crieth :
These, it seems, being the men who allow neither
servants nor workmen any other Wages, than (as the
Saying is) their labour for their pains.
The truth is, the covetous person is so bad a pay
master, that he lives and dies as much a debtor to him
self, as to any one else ; his own back and belly
having an action of debt against him ; while he pines*
and pinches, and denies himself, not only in the ac
commodations, but also in the very necessities of na
ture ; with the greatest nonsense imaginable, living a
beggar, that he may die rich, and leave behind him a
mass of money, valuable upon no other account in the
world, but as it is an instrument to command and
procure to a man these conveniences of life, which
such an one voluntarily deprives himself of.
*******
Covetousness is apt to prevail upon the minds of

414 OF covetousness. [Disc. XII.
men, by reason of the reputation which riches general
ly give mea in the world, by whatsover ways or means
they were gotten. It is a very great, though sad and
scandalous truth, that rich men are at the very same
time esteemed and honoured, while the ways, by
which they grew rich, are abhorred and detested : For
how is griping avarice exclaimed against ? How
is oppression branded all the world over ! All mankind
seems agreed to run them down ; and yet, what ad
dresses are made, what respects shown, what high en
comiums given, to a wealthy miser, to a rich and
flourishing oppressor ! The lucky effect seems to have
atoned for, and sanctified its vile cause ; and the basest
thing covered with gold, lies hid itself, and shines with
the lustre of its covering.
Virtue, charity, and generosity, are indeed splendid
names, and look bright in sermons and panegyrics,
which few regard : But when we come to practice
and common life, virtue, if poor, is but a sneaking
thing, looked upon disdainfully, and treated coldly ;
and when charity brings a man to need charity, he
must be content with the scraps from the table of
the rich miser, or the great oppressor. For no invita
tions are now made, like that in the gospel, where
messengers are sent with tickets to bring in guests
from the hedges and highways. No, it is not the way
in our days to spread tables, or furnish out banquets
for the poor and the blind, the hungry and the indi
gent. For in our times, (to the just shame of the fops
our ancestors, as some call them,) full bellies ate still
oftenest feasted ; and lo them who have shall be given,
and they shall have more abundantly. This is the
way of the world ; be the discourse of it what it will.
* * * * * * *
As for covetousness, we may truly say of it, that
it makes both the alpha and omega in the devil's al
phabet, and that it is the first vice in corrupt nature
which moves, and the last which dies. For look upon

Disc. XII] of covetousness. 415
any infant, and as soon as it can but move an hand, we
shall see it reaching out after something or other, which
it should not have ; and he who does not know it to
be the proper and peculiar sin of old age, seems him
self to have the dotage of that age upon him, whether
he has the years or no. For, who so intent upon the
world commonly, as those who are just going out of
it ? Who so diligent in heaping up wealth, as those
who have neither will nor time to spend it ?
**.*****
Men are frequently forced to make their way to
great possessions, by the commission of great sins, and
therefore the happiness of life cannot possibly consist
in them. It has been a saying, and a remarkable one
it is, that there is no man very rich, but is either an un
just person himself, or the heir of one or other who was
so. I dare not pronounce so severe a sentence uni
versally : For I question not, but through the good
Providence of God, some are as innocently, and with
as good a conscience, rich, as others can be poor : But
the general baseness and corruption of men's practices
has verified this harsh saying of too many ; and it is
every day seen, how many serve the god of this world,
to obtain the riches of it. 'Tis true, the full reward
of a man's unjust dealing never reaches him in this
life ; but if he has not sinned away all the tenderness
and apprehensiveness of his conscience, the grudges
and regrets of it will be still like death in the pot, and
give a sad grumbling allay to all his comforts ; nor
shall his heart ever find any entire, clear, unmixed con
tent in the wealth he has got, when he shall reflect
upon the manner of his getting it ; and assure him,
that nothing of all that, which he possesses in the
world, is yet paid for; so that, if the justice of God
should exact his soul in payment of that vast score,
which his sinful gains have run him into, when this sad
debt came once to be cleared off, who then would be
the gainer ; or what could be got, when the soul was
lost?

416 of covetousness. [Disc. XII.
*******
The very management of a great estate is a greater
and more perplexing trouble, than any that a poor man
can be subject to. He, who is vastly rich, must
live like one who is so ; and whosoever does that,
makes himself thereby a great host, and his house a
great inn ; where the noise, the trouble, and the charge,
is sure to be his, but the enjoyment (if there be any)
descends upon the persons entertained by him ; nay,
and upon the very servants of his family, whose busi
ness is only to please their master, and live upon him,
while the master's business is to please all that come
about him, and sometimes to fence against them too.
For a gainer by all his costs and charges, he shall nev
er be. Such being the temper of most men in the
world, that though they are never so generously enter
tained, yet they are not to be obliged ; but go away,
rather envying their entertainer's greatness, than ac
knowledging his generosity.

DISCOURSE XIII.
OF FALSEHOOD AND LYING.  PrOV. XU. 22.

I am sensible, that by discoursing of lies and false
hood, I must needs fall into a very large common
place ; though yet, not by half so large and common as
the practice : nothing in nature being so universally
decried, and withal so universally practised, as false
hood. So that most of those things, that have the
mightiest and most controlling influence upon the af
fairs and course of the world, are neither better nor
worse, than downright lies. For, what is common
fame, which sounds from all quarters of the world, and
resounds back to them again, but generally a loud, rat
tling, impudent, over-bearing lie ? What are most of
the histories of the world, but lies ? lies immortalized,
and consigned over as a perpetual abuse and flam up
on posterity ? What are most of the promises of the
world, but lies ? Of which we need no other proof
but our own experience. And what are most of the
oaths in the world, but lies ? And such as need ra
ther a pardon for being took, than a dispensation from
being kept ? And lastly, what are all the religions of
the world, except Judaism and Christianity, but lies ?
And even in Christianity itself, are there not those who
teach, Avarrant, and defend lying ? and scarce use the
bible for any other purpose, but to swear upon it, and
to lie against it ?
Thus a mighty, governing lie goes round the world,
and has almost banished truth out of it ; and so reign-
53

418 OF FALSEHOOD AND LYING. [Disc. XIII.
ing triumphantly in its stead, is the true source of most
of those confusions, and dhe calamities, that infest the
universe. For look over them all and you shall find
that the greatest annoyance of mankind, has been from
one of these two things, force ox fraud. Of which,
as boistesous and violent a thing as force is, yet it
rarely achieves any thing considerable, but under the
conduct of fraud. Slight of hand has done that, which
force of hand could never do.
#*»****
Plato accounted it lawful for statesmen and gover
nors ; and so did Cicero and Plutarch ; and the Sto-
icks (as some say) reckoned it amongst the perfections
of a wise man, to vjie dexterously, in due time and
place. And for some of the ancient doctors of the
Christian church ; such as Origen, Clemens Alexan-
drinus, Tertullian, Lactantius, and Crysostom ; and
generally, all before St. Austin, several passages have
fallen from them, that speak but too favourably of this
ill thing. So that Paul Layman, a Romish casuist,
says, that it is a truth but lately known, and received
in the world, that a lie is absolutely sinful and un
lawful ; I suppose, he means, that part of the world,
where the scriptures are not read, and where men care
not to know, what they are not willing to practise.
But then, for the mitigation of what has proceeded
from these great men, we must take in that known
and celebrated division of a lie into those three several
kinds of it. As 1 . The pernicious lie, uttered for the
hurt or disadvantage of our neighbour. 2. The offi
cious lie, uttered for our own, or our neighbour's ad
vantage. And 3. and lastly, The ludicrous and jocose
lie, uttered only for mirth's sake, in common converse.
Now for the first of these, which is the pernicious lie,
it Avas, and is universally condemned by all ; but the
other two have found some patronage from the writ
ings of those fore-mentioned authors.

Disc. XIII] OF FALSEHOOD AND LYING. ,419
To pass from thence* to fanatic treachery, that is,
from one twin to the other ; how came such multitudes
of our own nation, at the beginning of that monstrous
rebellion, to be spunged of their plate and money, rings
and jewels, for the carrying on of the schismatical,
dissenting, king-killing cause ? Why, next to their
own love of being cheated, it was the public faith of
faithless miscreants that drew them in. And, how
came so many thousands to fight, and die in the same
rebellion ? Why, they were deceived into it by those
spiritual trumpeters, who followed them with continu
al alarms of damnation, if they did not venture life,
fortune and all, in that which wickedly and devilishly
those impostors called, The cause of God. So that I
myself have heard one say (whose quarters have since
hung about that city, where he first had been deceiv
ed) that he with many more, went to that execrable
war with such a controlling horror upon their spirits,
from those sermons,f that they verily believed they
should have been accursed by God forever, if they had
not acted their part in that dismal tragedy.
*******
Where fraud and falsehood, like a plague or can
ker, comes once to invade society, the band which
held together the parts compounding it, presently
breaks ; and men thereby put to a loss Avhere to league,
and to fasten their dependences ; and so are forced to
scatter, and shift every one for himself. Upon which
account, every notoriously false person ought to be
looked upon as a public enemy, to be pursued as a
wolf, or a mad dog, and a disturber of the common
peace and welfare of mankind. There being no per
son whatsoever, but has his private interest concerned,
and endangered in the mischief that such a wretch does
to the public.
For look into great families, and you shall find some
[* That is, Popish.— Ed.]
t Col. Axtell ; he particularly mentioned those of Brooks and Calamy.

420 OF FALSEHOOD AND LYING. Disc. XIII]
one false, paltry tale-bearer, who, by carrying stories
from one to another, shall inflame the minds, and dis
compose the quiet of the whole family. And from
families pass to towns or cities ; and two or three prag
matical, intriguing, meddling fellows (men of busi
ness some call them) by the venom of their false
tongues, shall set the whole neighbourhood together
by the ears. Where men practise falsehood, and shew
tricks with one another, there will be perpetual suspi
cions, evil surmisings, doubts, and jealousies, which,
by souring the minds of men, are the bane and pest of
society. *********
Though some have been apt to account none sinful,
but such as wallow in the mire of gross sensuality, yet,
no doubt, deceit, falsehood and hypocrisy, are more di
rectly contrary to the very essence of religion, and car
ry in them more of the express image and superscrip
tion of the devil, than any bodily sins whatsoever.
How did that false, fasting, imperious, self-admiring,
or rather, self-adoring hypocrite (St- Luke, xviii. 11.)
crow over the poor publican ! God, I thank thee, says
he, that I am not like other men ; and, God forbid (say
I) that there should be many others like him. for a glis
tering out-side, and a noisome in- side, for tything mint
and cummin, and for devouring widow's houses ;
that is, for taking ten parts from his neighbour and
putting God off with one. After all which, had this
man of merit and mortification been called to account
for his ungodly swallow in gorging down the estates of
helpless widows and orphans, it is odds, but he would
have told you, that it was all for charitable uses, and
to afford pensions for spies and proselytes.

DISCOURSE XIV.
of envy. — James iii. 26.

The wealth or plenty of another is a ground or mo
tive of envy. No man willingly would be poor, and
no envious person would have another rich ; every
one Avho is remarkably so, being commonly looked up
on but as a kind of injury to all the poor ones about
him ; not that he does or ever did them any injury,
but that by being rich, he is reckoned one himself.
For whosoever has a great deal to lay up, will
be always an intolerable grievance to him who has
nothing to spend ; and to look upon a full bag, and
to have nothing to do with it, is no small mor
tification to such a one. The learned Verulam ob
serves, that diseases arising from emptiness, are gen
erally the most dangerous, and most hardly cured ;
and amongst the diseases of the mind, envy, grounded
upon domestic penury, is certainly of the same nature ;
especially where a neighbouring opulence shews what
the remedy is, but not how it may be had ; like the
thirst of Tantalus, where the thing thirsted for was
near enough, and yet out of reach too. And in such
a case envy will be sure to work and boil up to a more
than ordinary, height ; while the envious person frets,
and raves, and swells at the plenty and affluence of
his abounding neighbour, and (as I may so express it)
is even ready to burst with another's fulness.
What made the devil (the grand exemplar of envy)
so much malign Job, but the bounties of Providence
to him in a large estate, great revenues, and a flour-

422 of envy. [Disc. XIV.
ishing family, and all of them watched over and guard
ed by the wakeful eye and the powerful hand of him
who gave them. And no doubt, the Sabeans and Chal
deans, with the rest of his good neighbours (who did
such terrible execution upon all that belonged to him)
were acted and led on by the same spirit. They could
not brook the splendor and greatness of so potent, and
(as they thought) overgrown a neighbour. He was
an eye-sore to them upon the throne, but (for all his
noisome ulcers) none at all when they saAV him upon
the dunghill. *#*#*#*
In fine, if the envious person be poor and beggarly,
he would have all about him as arrant beggars as him
self; but if rich, he would have all beggars but him
self ; like Gideon's fleece, filled with the dew of hea
ven, and every thing else dry about it. And it is too
well known to all the world, not to be justly detested
by- it, that there is a certain profession of men, who
shall never cease to be maligned and persecuted, while
there is any thing of revenue, either to support the dig
nity of their function, or procure a common respect
to their persons ; but they shall be followed with all
the odious, false, and base imputations of pride, cove
tousness and luxury, still rattling about their ears, and
whatsoever else the envy of a raging avarice, and a
domineering insolence can belch out against them.
But after all, I would gladly learn, wherein this mon
strous pride and covetousness of the church shews it
self. Why, in this, that the ministers of it are not yet
clothed in rags or sackcloth, that the church itself is
neither for Naked Gospels,* nor naked evangelists, and
that her poor clergy can just (or very hardly) find
enough to pay taxes, and other public duties, and yet
make a shift to keep themselves from quite starving,
or begging afterwards. This, this-' is the pride and
* See a vile book so entitled, and reflecting upon the clergy, though
(to the shame of the author) written by a clergyman.

Disc. XIV.] of envy. 423
covetousness of our clergy. And then, lastly, for then-
luxury, that will be found (if at all) in their not being
willing to lick the crumbs at the end of their rich
neighbour's table, and much less under it ; that they
scorn to sneak here and there for a dinner, or to beg
their daily bread of any one, but of God himself.
*******
That every worth and virtue, which deservedly draws
after it the highest panegyricks from some, often proves
matter of the bitterest satires from others ; a very odd
and strange thing, I confess ; but envy will easily un
riddle the strangeness, and take off the wonder. The
due consideration of all which has founded the truth of
a saying, much more significant I own than, believed,
and more believed than practised ; namely, that he of
all men lives the safest, who lies the closest ; and that
none are so much out of the reach of the world, as
those who are most out of the view of it too. For
what is every step into the public, but a farther ad
vance into danger ? an engaging in fresh troubles and
contentions, and a drawing after one those eyes, which,
like the basilisk, kill whatsoever they look upon, if but
capable of worth enough to be looked to death by
them. It is not safe for any one to be much commend
ed, to be borne upon the wings of fame, and ride in
triumph upon the tongues of men ; for the tongues of
some do but provoke the teeth of more ; and men we
know do much more heartily detract, than they use to
commend. *********
He, who will be envious, can design nothing but to
make himself miserable, because he sees another hap
py ; he must resolve to be dejected and cast down,
whensoever he sees his neighbour prosperous, and, as
the poet describes envy, ready to weep for this very
cause, that she could see nothing to be wept at ; vix-
que, tenet lacrymas, quia nil lacrymabile cernit. We
need not seek for arguments to dissuade a man from

424 of envy. [Disc. XIV.
being envious upon the score of charity to his neigh
bour, but even of love to himself. Let him but be
prevailed upon not to be his own tormentor, and his
envy will be at an end. Let not his neighbour's rest
break his sleep. Let not his friend's fortune, or repu
tation, make him out of love Avith himself, and neglect
his own. For why may not I come in as a sharer, in
stead of being a maligner of his joy and felicity ? for
as much as there is a real pleasure in the congratula
tion of another's good ; the very society of joy redou
bling it : so that while it lights directly upon my friend,
it rebounds upon myself; and the brighter his candle
burns, the more easily will it light mine. When
soever the Romans conquered an enemy, it Avas in
deed the general himself only, who was said to tri
umph, but the whole army and all the people equally
rejoiced. But the envious person will bear no part in
the festivals of a public mirth : he shuts himself up
and snarls, while others laugh and sing. And if all the
world were of this temper, it would be an useless
(which yet has ever been accounted the noblest) pro
perty of good, that it naturally spreads and diffuses it
self abroad. *******
The effects of envy in respect of the object of it ;
1. A busy, curious enquiry, or prying into all the
concerns of the person envied and maligned : and this no
doubt, only as a step to those farther mischiefs, which
envy assuredly drives at. For no man enquires into
another's concerns, or makes it his business to acquaint
himself with his privacies, but with a design to do him
some shrewd turn or other. Such an eye is never idle,
but always looking about to see, where a man lies open
to a blow. It is withal an indefatigable teller and
hearer of base stories. It is this blessed quality, for
sooth, that so insinuates into families, that puts them
upon hiring servants to betray their masters, and in
veigling one friend, if possibly they can, to supplant

Disc. XIV.] of envy. 425
another : it is this, that listens at doors and windows,
that catches at every breath or whisper, that is stir-
ing, &c.
2. Detraction. We have already seen the first effort
made by it, by an insidious diving into his (the envied
person's) most secret affairs, and the next to this al
ways works out at the mouth ; so that if a man cannot
overbear his neighbour by downright violence of action,
he will attempt it at least by vilifying expressions ; and
that there may not want art, as Avell as malice, to car
ry on the attack more sure and home. Has a man
done bravely, and got himself a reputation too great to
be borne down by any base and direct aspersions ?
Why then, envy will seemingly subscribe to the gener
al vogue in most things, but then it will be sure to
come over him again with a sly, oblique stroke in some
derogating [but] or other, and so slide in some scurvy
exception, which shall effectually stain all his other
virtues ; and, like the dead fly in the apothecary's oint
ment, which (Solomon tells us) never fails to give the
whole an offensive savour. And, peradventure, to weave
the dissimulation with yet a finer thread, and so to
make it the more artificial, and less discernible, the
disgrace shall be insinuated, and cast in with words of
pity. As, after a man has been commended in compa
ny for several good qualities, the sneaking, envious
wretch shall then put in, and seem to assent to every
thing so spoken of him ; but shall add withal, what an
unhappiness is it, that a person endued with such ac
complishments should be so unluckily surprised, as to
be guilty of such or such actions ? And that there
should be any thing to allay or blemish the clearness
of his reputation ? When perhaps the rest of the com
pany were wholly ignorant of any such matter, had not
his malicious, ill-favoured pity brought it fresh into re
membrance. This is the. way, which envy takes to
undermine a man's honour, when the universal vogue
of men is on his side, &c.
54

DISCOURSE XV.
OF FLATTERY.  PrOV. Xxix. 5.

Every flatterer, in all his fawnings and dissimula
tions, is acted by these two grand purposes : 1. To
serve himself; 2. To undermine him whom he flatters,
and thereby to effect his ruin.
1. He designs to benefit himself. In all that artifi
cial scene that he lays, by adoring and commending
this or that great person, he intends not so much to
praise as io be what the other is. He would be great,
rich and honourable ; and that puts him upon the dis
sembler's drudgery to enslave himself to all his hu
mours ; to extol his impertinences, and adore his very
villanies. It is not for want of wit or apprehension
that the flatterer speaks such paradoxes ; for he sees
through that great and glorious bauble that he so crin
ges to ; he despises him heartily, while he harangues
him magnificently : his thoughts and his words are at
a perpetual jar and distance ; he thinks satires, while
he speaks panegyrics.
Nay, and perhaps he abhors his own ill fate too,
that should force him to take such a sordid course to
advance himself ; that should make him fall down be
fore such an image, and worship such an illustrious
piece of emptiness. But profit reconciles evil minds to
the coarsest services ; and men are Avilling to stoop
down to take up a jewel, or a piece of gold, though it
be from a dunghill.
But it is evident, that every flatterer designs only his

Disc. XV.] OF FLATTERY. 427
own advantage, whether there be or be not any real
foundation of worth in him whom he pretends to ad
mire ; and that from this one consideration, that the
same person, in case he falls from his greatness, is pre
sently deserted. The man's virtue, if he had any, re
mains untouched, and perhaps by his calamity improv
ed. He can be as valiant, as just and temperate, as
he was before ; but what is that to the purpose ? He
cannot reward or prefer : he cannot frown an enemy
into ruin, or smile a friend, or a dependant, into a fair
fortune ? And if so, the flatterer thinks he should but
lose his time and his breath to declaim, and be elo
quent, > upon so dry a subject. No ; his game lies
another way ; he bids good-night to the setting, and
reserves his devotion for the rising sun. Men may
be both wise and virtuous ; but it is their power that
makes them commended for being so.
And from this it is also, that we may observe in flat
terers such great difference in the behaviour of the
same person at one time, from what it is at another.
While he is yet upon the chace, and a getting, none so
humble, so abject, so full of all servile compliances ;
but when his nest is feathered, and his bags full, he
can be insolent and haughty, he can bend his knee as
stifly, and keep his distance as magisterially as another.
For, like Saul, after he comes to a crown, he then
presently finds in himself another spirit, and disdains
to look after those asses, that he used formerly so much
to follow. Let his old rich patrons now commend
themselves ; he has served his turn of them, caught
the fish, and he cares for no more. After the young
one is grown up, and well thriven, it follows the dam
no longer ; but instead of following it, if occasion serves,
it can kick it.
*********
2. The flatterer undermines, and perhaps, in the issue,
ruins him whom he flatters, by bringing him to shame,
and a general contempt ; for he deals with him like

428 OF FLATTERY. [Disc. XV.
one that pins some ridiculous thing upon another's
back, and then sends him with it into the market
place, where he finds himself hooted and laughed at
by all ; but walks on, wholly ignorant of the cause.
The flatterer tells an impertinent talking grandee, that
his discourse wonderfully becomes him ; that he utters
himself Avith extraordinary grace and exactness of
speech ; he accordingly believes him, and gives his
tongue no rest, but is still proclaiming his emptiness
and indiscretion in all companies. He tells another
passionate furioso, that it argues gallantry of spirit,
not to endure the least undervaluing word, the least
shadow of an affront, and he accordingly, upon every
trivial occasion, takes fire, and flames out into all the
expressions of rage and revenge ; and, for his pains, is
despised by some, hated by others, and opposed by all ;
and these are the effects and favours of flattery. In a
Avord ; the flatterer deals with the flattered person, as
the Philistines did with Sampson, first putting out his
eyes, and then making him a sport, to all that had a
mind to divert themselves with his calamity.
********
The perverse imitation of any one's defects or vices,
seems to carry it (flattery) higher than the former, for
asmuch as actions are much more considerable than
words or discourses.
But surely feAV Avould be so sottish and servile, as
to break a leg or an arm, or put out an eye, because they
see the great person whom they depend upon and adore,
deprived of any of these parts. And if so, do they not
consider, that a man is to be more tender of his man
ners, and the dignity of his soul, than of any thing that
belongs to his body, which would give him but a small
preeminence above the brutes, were it not animated by
a principle of reason ?
Every kind of imitation speaks the person that imi
tates inferior to him whom he imitates, as the copy is
to the original ; but then to imitate that which is mean,

Disc. XV.] OF FLATTERY. 429
base and unworthy, is to do one of the lowest actions
in a yet lower instance ; it is to climb downwards, to
employ art and industry to learn a defect and an im
perfection ; which is a direct reproach to reason, and
a contradiction to the methods of nature.
And so much the more intolerable is it, because such
persons are seldom seen to imitate the excellencies and
the virtues of him whom they flatter ; these are looked
upon with distance and lazy admiration ; but if there
be any vice that sullies and takes off from the lustre
of his other good qualities, that shall be sure to be cull
ed out, and writ upon their lives and behaviour. Al
exander had enough to imitate him in his drunkenness
and his passion, who never intended to be like him,
either in his chastity, or his justice to his enemies, and
his liberality to his friends. And it is reported of Pla
to, that being crook-shouldered, his scholars, who so
much admired him, would endeavour to be like him,
by bolstering out their garments on that side, that so
they might appear crooked too. It is probable that
many of these found it easier to imitate Plato's shoul
ders than his philosophy ; and to stuff out their gowns,
than to furnish their understandings, or improve their
minds.

DISCOURSE XVI.
of ingratitude. — Judges viii. 34, 35.

There is not any one vice, or ill quality, incident
to the mind of man, against which the world has rais
ed such a loud and universal outcry, as against in
gratitude ; a vice never mentioned by any heathen
writer, but with a particular height of detestation : and
of such a malignity, that human nature must be strip
ped of humanity itself, before it can be guilty of it.
It is in stead of all other vices ; and, in the balance of
morality, a counterpoise to them all. In the charge of
ingratitude, omnia dixeris : It is one great blot upon
all morality : It is all in a word : It says amen to the
black roll of sins : It gives completion and confirma
tion to them all.
Thanks are a tribute payable by the poorest : The
most forlorn widow has her two mites ; and there is
none so indigent, but has an heart to be sensible of,
and a tongue to express its sense of a benefit received.
For surely, nature gives no man a mouth to be al
ways eating, and never saying grace ; nor any hand
only to grasp, and to receive : But as it is furnished
with teeth for the one, so it should have a tongue also
for the other ; and the hands that are so often reached
out to take, and to accept, should be sometimes lifted
up also to bless. The world is maintained by inter
course ; and the whole course of nature is a great ex
change, in which one good turn is, and ought to be,
the stated price of another.

Disc. XVI.] of ingratitude. 431
If you consider the universe as one body, you shall
find society and conversation to supply the office of the
blood and spirits ; and it is gratitude that makes them
circulate : Look over the whole creation, and you shall
see, that the band or cement that holds together all
the parts of this great and glorious fabric, is gratitude,
or something like it : You may observe it in all the
elements ; for does not the air feed the flame ? And
does not the flame at the same time warm and enlight
en the air ? Is not the sea always sending forth as well
as taking in ? And does not the earth quit scores with
all the elements, in the noble fruits and productions
that issue from it ? and in all the light and influence
that the heavens bestow upon this lower world, though
the lower world cannot equal their benefaction, yet,
with a kind of grateful return, it reflects those rays,
that it cannot recompense ; so that there is some re
turn however, though there can be no requital. He, who
has a soul wholly void of gratitude, should do well to
set his soul to learn of his body ; for all the parts of
that minister to one another. The hands and all the
other limbs labour to bring in food and provision to the
stomach, and the stomach returns what it has received
from them in strength and nutriment, diffused into all
the parts and members of the body. It would be end
less to pursue the like allusions.
****** **
You may rest upon this as a proposition of an eter
nal, unfailing truth ; that there neither is, nor ever
was, any person remarkably ungrateful, who was not
also insufferably proud ; nor convertibly any one proud,
who was not equally ungrateful. For, as snakes breed
in dunghills not singly, but in knots, so in such base,
noisome hearts, you shall ever see pride and ingrati
tude indivisibly wreathed, and twisted together. In
gratitude overlooks all kindnesses, but it is, because
pride makes it carry its head so high.
See the greatest examples of ingratitude equally no-

432 OF INGRATITUDE. [Disc. XVI.
torious for their pride and ambition. And to begin
with the top and father of them all, the devil himself.
That excellent and glorious nature which God had
obliged him Avith, could not prevent his ingratitude
and apostacy, when his pride bid him aspire to an
equality Avith his Maker, and say, / will ascend, and
be like the Most High. And did not our first parents
write exactly after his copy ? Ingratitude making them
to trample upon the command, because pride made
them desire to be as gods, and to brave Omniscience
itself in the knoAvledge of good and evil? What made
that ungrateful wretch, Absalom, kick at all the kind
nesses of his indulgent father, but because his ambi
tion would needs be fingering the scepter, and hoisting
him into his father's throne ? And in the courts of
princes is there any thing more usual, than to see those
that have been raised by the favour and interest -of
some great minister, to trample upon the steps by
which they rose, to rival him in his greatness, and at
length (if possible) to step into his place ?
In a word, ingratitude is too base to return a kind
ness, and too proud to regard it ; much like the tops of
mountains, barren indeed, but yet lofty ; they pro
duce nothing, they feed no body, they clothe no body,
yet are high and stately, and look down upon all the
world about them.
*******
The only voice of ingratitude is, Give, Give ; but
when the gift is once received, then like the swine at
his trough, it is silent and insatiable. In a word, the
ungrateful person is a monster, which is all throat and
belly ; a kind of thorough-fare, or common-shore for
the good things of the world to pass into ; and of whom,
in respect of all kindnesses conferred on him, may be
verified that observation of the lion's den ; before which,
appeared the footsteps of many that had gone in thither,
but no prints of any that ever came out thence. The
ungrateful person is the only thing in nature, for which

Disc. XVI.] OF INGRATITUDE. 433
no body living is the better. He lives to himself, and
subsists by the good nature of others, of which he him
self has not the least grain.
The greatest favours to such an one, are but like
the motion of a ship upon the waves ; they leave no
trace, no sign behind them ; they neither soften, nor
win upon him ; they neither melt, nor endear him, but
leave him as hard, as rugged, and as unconcerned as
ever. All kindnesses descend upon such a temper, as
showers of rain, or rivers of fresh water falling into the
dead sea : The sea swallows them all, but is not at
all changed, or sweetened by them. I may truly say
of the mind of an ungrateful person, that it is kind
ness-proof. It is impenetrable by that, which con
quers all things else, even by love itself. Flints may
be melted, (we see it daily,) but an ungrateful heart
cannot ; no, not by the strongest and the noblest flame.
And the reason is manifest ; for you may remember,
that I told you, that ingratitude sprang from a princi
ple of ill-nature ; Avhich being a thing founded in such
a certain constitution of blood and spirit, shall prevent
all remedies that can be applied by education, and
leaves such a bias upon the mind, as is before-hand
with all instruction.
So that you shall seldom meet with an ungrateful
person, but if you trace him up to his original, you will
find that he was born so ; and if you could look for
ward enough, it is a thousand to one, but you would
find, that he also dies so ; the thread that nature spins.
is seldom broken off by any thing, but death.

55

DISCOURSE XVII.

CHRIST S PROMISE, THE SUPPORT OF HIS MINISTERS.
Luke xxi. 15.

The christian ministry is a troublesome and a dis
gustful institution, and as little regarded by men as
they regard their souls, but rather hated as much as
they love their sins. The church is every one's prey,
and the shepherds are pilled, and polled, and fleeced
by none more than by their own flocks. A prophet is
sure to be without honour, not only in his own coun
try, but almost in every one else. I scarce ever knew
any ecclesiastic but was treated with scorn and dis
tance ; and the only peculiar respect I have observed
shown such persons in this nation, (which yet, I dare
say, they could willingly enough dispense with,) is,
that sometimes a clergyman of an hundred pound
a year has the honour to be taxed equal to a layman of
ten thousand. Even those who pretend most respect
to the church and churchmen, will yet be found rather
to use than to respect them ; and if at any time they
do aught for them, or give any thing to them, it is not
because they are really lovers of the church, but to
serve some turn by being thought so. As some keep
chaplains, not out of any concern for religion, but as it is
a piece of grandeur something above keeping a coach ;
it looks creditable and great in the eyes of the world ;
though, in such cases he who serves at the altar, has
generally as much contempt and disdain passed upon
him, as he who serves in the kitchen, though perhaps
not in the same way : If any regard be had to him, it

Disc. XVII] Christ's promise, &c. 435
is commonly such an one as men have for a garment
(or rather a pair of shoes) which fits them, viz. to
wear him and wear him, till he is worn out, and then
to lay him aside. For be the grandee he depends up
on, never so powerful, he must not expect that he will
do any thing for him, till it is scandalous not to do it.
If a first or second-rate living chance to fall in his gift,
let not the poor domestic think, either learning, or pi
ety, or long service, a sufficient pretence to it ; but let
him consider with himself rather, whether he can an
swer that difficult question, Who was Melchisedeck's
father ?* Or whether instead of grace for grace, he
can bring gift for gift, for all other qualifications with
out it will be found empty and insignificant.

*

The true account of the pride of the clergy is, that
they are able to clothe themselves with something bet
ter than rags ; or rather, that they have any thing
to clothe them at all, and that the church of England
would (by its good will) neither have naked gospels
nor naked evangelists. And then in the next place,
the covetousness of the clergy is, that they can and do
find wherewithal to pay taxes, and just enough to keep
them from begging afterwards. And lastly, their lux
ury and intemperance lies in this, that they had rather
eat at their own poor home, than lick up the crumbs at
the end of their haughty neighbour's table, and much
less under it ; that they scorn to sneak here and there
for a dinner, or beg their daily bread of any but of
God himself: The world in the mean time proceeding
by no other measure with the clergy than this, viz. to
exact of them hospitality lo others, and to grudge them
bread for themselves.
*******
Upon the whole, if we consider the treatment of the
clergy in these nations, since popery was driven out,
* A question very hardly solvable by a poor clergyman, though never so
good a divine.

436 christ's promise, &c. [Disc. XVII.
both as to the language and usage which they find
from most about them; I do, from all that I have
read, heard, or seen, confidently aver, (and I wish I
could speak it loud enough to reach all the corners of
the world,) that there is no nation under heaven, chris
tian or not christian, which despise, hate, and trample
upon their clergy or priesthood comparably to the Eng
lish. So that (as matters have been carried) it is real
ly no small argument of the predominance of con
science over interest, that there are yet parents who
can be willing to breed up any of their sons (if hope
fully endowed) to so discouraged and discouraging a
profession. *******
We find the apostles frequently and fiercely encoun
tered by adversaries of very different persuasions, by
Jews and Gentiles, and the several sects belonging to
both. * * * * But this gainsaying humour stopped
not in the doctrine preached, but overflowed also upon
the preachers themselves ; and that in calumnies of
all sorts ; sometimes reproaching them as drunkards,
(Acts ii. 13.) and thereby showing us, that the charge
of intemperance upon the clergy was as early as the
apostles, who had a liberal share of it ; and not only
so, but it began even upon Christ himself, who was
taxed for a glutton and a wine-bibber, long before them ;
though (methinks) it looks something odd and unac
countable, that those should make the lame walk, and
restore to others the use of their legs, who had drunk
themselves off their own. They were traduced also
as public incendiaries, and such as turned the world
upside down ; (Acts xvii. 6.) which yet (as the world
then stood with idolatry at the head of it, and truth
under foot) was perhaps the only way to restore it to
its right posture. They were also jeered and flouted
at, as fools and babblers. (Acts xvii. 18.) But why
then did not those profound rabbies amongst the Jews,
and the Stoics and Epicureans, (those oracles of reason,)

Disc. XVII] Christ's promise, &c. 437
amongst the philosophers, baffle these babblers, and so
dashing their absurd doctrine in its first rise, prevent
its spreading by a mature and thorough confutation ?
But it was ever an easier work to contradict, than io
confute. From reproaching them as fools, they pro
ceeded to represent them also as madmen. (Acts xxvi.
24. 2 Cor. v. 13.) Though this, I confess, seems not so
much a wonder to me, since I doubt not but the cler
gy in all ages (if but well beneficed) would be accused
for lunatics, if for so doing, their accusers might be
their guardians.
*******
Nothing in nature can be imagined more absurd,
and contrary to the very end of speaking, than an ob
scure discourse ; for in that case the preacher may as
well leave his tongue, and his auditors their ears be
hind them, as neither he communicates, nor they un
derstand, any more of his mind and meaning after he
has spoken to them, than they did before.
And yet as ridiculous as such fustian bombast from
the pulpit is, none are so transported with it, as those
who least understand it. For still the greatest ad
mirers of it are the grossest, the most ignorant coun
try people, who, of all men, are the fondest of high-
flown metaphors and allegories, set off with scraps
of Greek and Latin, though not able even to read
so much of the latter, as might save their necks up
on occasion.
To adorn and clothe the most important truths, is
to cover them, and that, to obscure them. The eter
nal salvation and damnation of souls, are not things
to be treated of with jests and witticisms. And he
who thinks to furnish himself out of plays and ro
mances with language for the pulpit, shows himself
much fitter to act a part in the revels, than for a
cure of souls.
/ speak the words of soberness, said St. Paul. (Acts
xxvi. 25.) And I preach the gospel not with the

438 Christ's promise, &c. [Disc. XVII.
enticing words of man's wisdom. (1 Cor. ii. 4.) This
was the way of the apostles, discoursing of things sa
cred. Nothing here of the fringes of the north-star;
nothing of nature's becoming unnatural ; nothing
of the down of angels' icings, or the beautiful locks
of cherubims ; no starched similitudes, introduced with
a Thus have I seen a cloud rolling in its airy man
sion, and the like. No, these were sublimities above
the rise of the apostolic spirit. For the apostles, poor
mortals, were content to take lower steps, and to tell
the world in plain terms, That he who believed, should
be saved, and that he who believed not, should be damned.
And this was the dialect, which pierced the conscience,
and made the hearers cry out, Men and brethren, what
shall we do ? It tickled not the ear, but sunk into the
heart ; and when men came from such sermons, they
never commended the preacher for his taking voice or
gesture ; for the fineness of such a simile, or the quaint-
ness of such a sentence ; but they spoke like men
conquered with the overpowering force of the most
concerning truths ; much in the words of the two dis
ciples going to Emmaus; Did not our hearts burn
within us, while he opened to us the scriptures ?
In a word, the apostles' preaching was therefore
mighty and successful, because plain, natural, and fa
miliar, and by no means above the capacity of their
hearers; nothing being more preposterous, than for
those, who were professedly aiming at men's hearts, to
miss the mark, by shooting over their heads.

DISCOURSE XVIII.
THE FATAL PERVERSION OF WrORDS AND NAMES.
Isaiah v. 20.

From whence we infer the villanous falsehood of
the opinion, or position, that good and evil, honest
and dishonest, are originally founded in the laws and
constitutions of the sovereign civil power, enjoining
some things or actions, and prohibiting others. So
that when any thing is found conducing to the welfare
of the public, and thereupon comes to be enacted by
governors into a law, it is forthAvith thereby rendered
morally good and honest ; and, on the contrary, evil
and dishonest, when, upon its contrariety to the public
welfare, it stands condemned by the same public au
thority. ,This was the opinion heretofore of Epicurus, as it
is represented by Gassendus ; who understood his no
tions too well, to misrepresent them : and lately, of one
amongst ourselves, a less philosopher, though the great
er heathen of the two, the infamous author of the Le
viathan. And the like lewd, scandalous, and immoral
doctrine, or worse (if possible) may be found in some
waiters of another kind of note ; whom one would have
thought, not only religion, but shame of the world
might have taught better things.
* * * * * # *
There is hardly any order or degree of men, but more
or less have been captivated and enslaved by words.
It is a weakness, or rather a fate, which attends both
high aud low ; the statesman, who holds the helm, as
well as the peasant, who holds the plough. So that if
ever you find an ignoramus in place and power, and

440 THE FATAL PERVERSION [Disc. XVIII.
can have so little conscience, and so much confidence,
as to tell him to his face, that he has a wit and an un
derstanding above all the Avorld beside ; and That
what his own reason cannot suggest to him, neither
can the united reason of all mankind put together ;*
I dare undertake, that, as fulsome a dose as you give
him, he shall readily take it down, and admit the com
mendation, though he cannot believe the thing : Blan-
ditiee etiam cum excluduntur, placent, says Seneca.
Tell him, that no history or antiquity can match his
policies and his conduct ; and presently, the sot (be
cause he knows neither history, nor antiquity) shall be
gin to measure himself by himself, (which is the only
sure way for him not to fall short) and so immediate
ly amongst his outward admirers, and his inward
despisers, vouched also by a teste meipso, he steps
forth an exact politician : and, by a Avonderful, and
new way of arguing, proves himself no fool, because,
forsooth, the sycophant, who tells him so, is an egre
gious knave.
But to give you yet a grosser instance of the force
of words, and of the extreme vanity of man's nature in
being influenced by them, hardly shall you meet with
any person, man or woman, so aged, or ill-favoured,
but if you will venture to commend them for their
comeliness ; nay, and for their youth too, though time
out of mind is wrote upon every line of their face ;
yet they shall take it very well at your hands, and be
gin to think with themselves, that certainly they have
some perfections, which the generality of the world are
not so happy as to be aware of.
*******
In most things, good and evil lie shuffled and thrust
up together in a confused heap ; and it is study and
intention of thought which must draw them forth, and
range them under their distinct heads. But there can
be no study, without time ; and the mind must abide
* The words of a great self-opiniator, and a bitter re viler of the clergy.

Disc. XVIII] OF WORDS AND NAMES. 441
and dwell upon things, or be always a stranger to the in
side of them. Through desire (says Solomon), a man
having separated himself, seeketh and intermeddleih
with all wisdom, (Prov. xviii. 12.) There must be
leisure and a retirement, and a sequestration of a man's
self from the noise and toil of the world : for truth
scorns to be seen by eyes too much fixt upon inferior
objects. It lies too deep to be fetcht up with the
plough, and too close to be beaten out with the ham
mer. It dwells not in shops or work-houses ; nor till
the late age was it ever known, that any one served
seven years to a smith or a tailor, that he might at the
end thereof proceed master of any other arts, but such
as those trades taught him ; and much less that he
should commence doctor, or divine, from the shop-
board, or the anvil ; or from whistling to a team, come
to preach to a congregation.
********
The most efficacious way to ruin any man, is to mis
represent him ; and it often so falls out, that it wounds
on both sides, and not only mauls the person misrepre
sented, but him also, to whom he is misrepresented.
Nothing can be imagined more destructive to society
than this villanous practice. It is this which revives,
and imitates that inhuman barbarity of the old heathen
persecutors, wrapping up christians in the skins of wild
beasts, that so they might be worried and torn in pie
ces by dogs. Do but paint an angel black, and that
is enough to make him pass for a devil. Let us black
en him, let us blacken him what we can, said the mis
creant Harrison* of the blessed king upon the word
ing and drawing up his charge against his approaching
trial. And Avhen any man is to be run down, and sacrific-
* A preaching colonel of the parliament-army, and a chief actor in
the murder of K. Charles the first : notable before, for having killed sev
eral after quarter given them by others, and using these words in the
doing it, Cursed be he who does the toork of the Lord negligently. He
was by extraction a butcher's son ; and accordingly, in his practices all
along, more a butcher than his father.
56

442 THE FATAL PERVERSION [Disc. XVIII.
ed to the lust of his enemies, as that royal martyr was,
even his good (according to the apostle's phrase) shall
be evil spoken of. He must first be undermined, and
then undone. *******
There is one thing which I cannot but observe upon
them, as very material, and fit to be laid in their dish
forever ; which is this : that if any branch of the royal
family has unhappily drank in any thing of the popish
contagion, these who call themselves true Protestants
(the Puritans), are of all men breathing the most im
proper to decry, or so much as to open their mouths
against any such person upon that account. For they
must thank themselves for it, who forcibly plucked the
children out of the bosom of the best father, and the
firmest protestant in the world, and sent them into
foreign countries, there to converse with snares and
traps, and to support their lives with the hazard of
their faith, flying from such Protestants fot safety and
shelter amongst the Papists. A staggering considera
tion (let me tell you) to persons of such tender years.
But had that blessed prince been suffered to spin out
the full thread of his innocent life in peace and pros
perity, none had issued from his royal loins but what
lie himself would have tutored and bred up to such a
knowledge of, and adherence to, the church of En
gland, that it should not have been in the power
of all the papists and Jesuits under heaven to have
shook them in their religion.
So that the great seducers were Cromwell and his
fellow rebels, who by banishing the royal family, cast
them into the very jaws of popery and seduction, and
not only led, but drove them into temptation.
Upon the whole matter, we are eternally bound to
thank our good God for all of the royal family that
have not been perverted to popery ; and to thank the
rebels and fanatics if any have.
* * * * * * *
A misapplied word, by which these men havf

DlbC. XV ill.] OF WORDS AND NAMES. 443
done no small mischief to religion, is, their calling the
late sacrilegious subversion of the whole frame of our
church, by the name of reformation, &c.) * * *
But to give you a remarkable instance of what kind
of sense of religion, these reformers of it have had from
first to last : when that scandal to Christianity, Hugh
Peters, held a discourse with the arch-rebel, his master,
upon the mutinying of the army about St. Albans, and
things then seemed to be in a scurvy, doubtful posture,
this Avretch encouraged him, not to be dismayed with
the discontents of the soldiery, but accosting him re
solutely to go on, as he had done all along, and to fox
them a little more with religion, and no doubt he
should be able to carry his point at last. A blessed
expression this, fox them with religion ! and fit to
come from the mouth of a noted preacher of religion,
and a prime reformer of it also ; but however very
suitable to the person that uttered it, who died as he
lived, with a stupified, seared conscience, and went out
of the world foxed with something else beside religion.
*********
He who sets up for his country, against his prince,
goes about to make the body thrive by the ruin of the
head. Assuredly no man shews his zeal and love for
his country, so much as he who does all he can to ena
ble his prince both to govern and protect it ; which I
am sure cannot be done, either by weakening or im
poverishing him. This indeed has been the course ta
ken by those great factors for sedition, who have shot
that odious distinction, like a fiery dart, at the govern
ment, of the court party, and the country party ; for
which the country may perhaps one day have as little
cause to thank them, as they have at present to thank
themselves. For I do not find, that by all their noise
and heat they have made themselves so considerable,
as to be thought worthy to be taken off. But whether
they succeed this way or no, they know however that
to be still mouthing out, the interest of the country !
the interest of the country ! is a sort of plausible well-

444 THE FATAL PERVERSION, &C. [Disc. XVIII.
received cant, and a sweet morsel, which never fails
to be readily swallowed by the gaping rout, who al
ways love those men best who abuse them most.
*******
Bodily abstinence, joined with a demure, affected
countenance, is often called and accounted piety and
mortification. Suppose a man entirely ambitious, and
equally spiteful and malicious ; one who poisons the
ears of great men by venomous whispers, and rises by
the fall of better men than himself; yet if he steps
forth with a Friday look and a Lenten face, with a
blessed Jesu ! and a mournful ditty for the vices of the
times : oh ! then he is a saint upon earth ; an Am
brose, or an Augustine ; I mean not for that earthly
trash of book-learning ; (for alas ! such are above that,
or at least that's above them) but for zeal, and for
fasting, for a devout elevation of the eyes, and an
holy rage against other men's sins. And happy those
ladies and religious dames characterized (2 Tim. iii.
6,) who can have such self-denying, thriving, able men
for their confessors ! and thrice happy those families
where they vouchsafe to take their Friday nights' re
freshments ! and thereby demonstrate to the world,
what christian abstinence, and what primitive self-mor
tifying rigour there is in forbearing a dinner, that they
may have the better stomach to their supper.
In fine, the whole world stands in admiration of
them ; fools are fond of them, and wise men are afraid
of them : they are talked of, they are pointed at ; and
as they order the matter, they draw the eyes of all
men after them, and generally something else.
But as it is observed in greyhounds, that the thin
ness of their jaws does not at all allay the ravening fu
ry of their appetite, there being no creature whose
teeth are sharper, and whose feet are swifter when
they are in pursuit of their prey ; so wo be to that
man who stands in the way of a meagre, mortified,
fasting, sharp-set zeal, when it is in full chace of its
spiritual game.

ANIMADVERSIONS

GROTIUS'S APPLICATION OF THE FIFTY-THIRD CHAPTER
OF ISAIAH TO THE PROPHET JEREMIAH.
[extract from a discourse.]

But how can this prophecy be made to agree to
Jeremy ? With what truth or propriety could he be
said to have been exalted, to have been very high, to
have been stricken for our transgressions, and to have
had the iniquity of us all laid upon him ? How could
it be said of him, Who shall declare his generation ?
And that he should see his seed and prolong his days ?
And also that he should divide the spoil with the
mighty? &c.
Why yes, says our expositor, he was exalted and
very high, because the Chaldeans had him in admira
tion, which yet is more than we read of, and thanks
to a good invention for it ; though it must be confess
ed, that upon his being drawn out of the dungeon, he
was something higher than he was before. In the
next place he was stricken for transgression, and had
our iniquities laid upon him, because by the injurious
dealing of the Jews he was cruelly and unworthily
used, as indeed all or most of the prophets were both
before or after him. And then for that saying, Who

446 ANIMADVERSIONS ON GROTIUS, &C
shall declare his generation ? The meaning of that,
we are told, is, Who shall reckon his years ? for he
shall live to be very aged ; though yet we know no
more of his age, but that he prophesied about forty
years ; whereas some others have prophesied much
longer, and particularly Hosea, who prophesied about
fourscore. As for the other expression of seeing his
seed, and prolonging his days, that we are taught must
signify, that he should see many of his converts in
Egypt, where he should live for a long time. Though
yet we read not of any one of those converts, nor of
any such prolonging his days there, but that it is a
constant tradition of antiquity that he died an untime
ly, disastrous death, being knocked on the head in
Egypt, by his wicked countrymen, with a fuller's club.
And in the last place, for his dividing the spoil with
the mighty, that we are informed was fulfilled in this,
that Nebuzaradan, captain of the Chaldean host (as
we find it in Jeremy xl. 5.) gave him a reward and
some victuals, (that is to say, a small supply or modi
cum of meat and money for his present support,) and
so sent him away : A worthy, glorious dividing the
spoil indeed, and much after the same rate that the
poor may be said to divide the spoil, when they take
their shares of what is given them at rich men's doors.
So then we have here an interpretation, but as for
the sense of it, that, for aught I see, must shift for it
self. But whether thus to drag and hale words both
from sense and context, and then to squeeze whatso
ever meaning we please out of them, be not (as 1 may
speak with some change of the prophet's phrase) to
draw lies with cords of blasphemy, and nonsense, as it
were, with a cart-rope, let any sober and impartial
hearer or reader be judge. For whatsoever titles the
itch of novelty and Socinianism has thought fit to dig
nify such immortal, incomparable, incomprehensible in
terpreters with, yet if these interpretations ought to
take place, the said prophecies (which all before Gro-

ANIMADVERSIONS ON GROTIUS, &.C. 447

tius* and the aforesaid rabby Saadias, unanimously
fixed, in the first sense of them, upon the sole person
of the Messiah) might have been actually fulfilled, and
consequently the veracity of God in the said prophe
cies strictly accounted for, though Jesus of Nazareth
had never been born. Which being so, would any one
have thought that the author of the book De veritate
Religionis Christiance, ey De satisfactione Christi, could
be also the author of such interpretations as these ?
No age certainly ever produced a mightier man in all
sorts of learning than Grotius, nor more happily fur
nished with all sorts of arms, both offensive and defen
sive, for the vindication of the christian faith, had he
not in his annotations too frequently turned the edge
of them the wrong way.
* Having had the opportunity and happiness of a frequent converse
with Dr. Pocock, (the late Hebrew and Arabic professor to the university
of Oxon, and the greatest master certainly of the eastern languages
and learning, which this or any other age or nation has bred,) I asked
him (more than once, as I had occasion) what he thought of Grotius's
exposition of Isaiah liii. and his application of that prophecy, in the first
sense and design of it to the person of the prophet Jeremy? To which,
smiling and shaking his head, he answered, Why, what else can he
thought or said of it, but that in this, the opiniator over-ruled the anno-
tator, and the man had a mind to indulge his fancy ? This account gave
that great man of it, though he was as great in modesty as he was in
learning, (greater than which none could be,) and withal had a particu
lar respect for Grotius, as having been personally acquainted with him.
But the truth is, the matter lay deeper than so, for there was a certain
party of men whom Grotius had unhappily engaged himself with, who
were extremely disgusted at the book De satisfactione Christi, written
by him against Socinus, and therefore he was to pacify (or rather satis
fy) these men by turning his pen another way in his annotations, which
also was the true reason that he never answered Crellius ; a shrewd
argument, no doubt, to such as shall well consider these matters, that
those in the Low-Countries, who at that time went by the name of Re
monstrants and Arminians, were indeed a great deal more.

ANIMADVERSIONS

ON

Sherlock's vindication of the trinity.
[from tbe eleventh and twelfth chapters.]

***** Though in all controversies, how sharp
soever on both sides, and just on one, there is still a
duty, which every man owes both to decency and to
himself, always obliging him to utter only such things
as may become him to speak ; yet, as to the adversary
himself, it is, no doubt, a course justifiable beyond all
exception, to take one's measures of treating him, from
the measures he has allowed himself of dealing with
others. And, as I hope, for my own, and the church's
sake, to acquit myself as to the former part of the
rule, so let my adversary take his lot as to the other.
For I doubt not but to satisfy the world, (were it not
superabundantly, from his OAvn writings, satisfied al
ready,) that he is a person of such an insufferable in
solence both of style and temper, that all, that he has
met with in the foregoing chapters, has by no means
paid off his scores.
*******
As to which, we shall first of all see him preferring
himself before all the fathers, as much happier in giv
ing an explication of the Trinity than they were ; and
this, in such a fleering, scoptical way, (scoptical I
mean as to the fathers, but highly commendatory of
himself,) that it would even turn one's stomach to read
his fulsome expressions. For he tells us, and that with

ANIMADVERSIONS &C. 449
the most profound humility, no doubt, (p. 101.) If
that explication which I have given, be very consistent
with, nay, be the true interpretation of that account the
ancients give of a Trinity in Unity, I hope it will not
be thought an unpardonable novelty, if I have expressed
the same thing in other ivords, which give us a more
clear and distinct apprehension of it, &c No ; for his
comfort, no ; to outdo all the fathers (if a man can do
it) can be no fault at all. But before this be allowed
him, I do here require him to name me but one (who
acknowledges a Trinity) in the whole world, besides
his own modest self, who ever preferred his explication
of the Trinity for the happiness and intelligibility of
it, before that given by the fathers. I say, let him
produce me so much as one affirming this, if he can.
So that, in short, the comparison here stands between
the fathers and this author : And we see the pre-emi
nence given him above all the fathers by the sole and
single judgment of one doctor, and that doctor is him
self: Nay, and (which is more) to put the matter past
all comparison between him and them for the future,
he tells us, that the fathers neither knew how to speak
their own thoughts of the Trinity, nor indeed so much
as to conceive of it aright, by reason of the grossness-
of their imaginations : Whereas, if they had but con
ceived of it, and expressed themselves about it, as he
has done, all would have been plain, easy, and intel
ligible. And as for Gregory Nyssen, (from whom he
had quoted more than from all the rest of the fathers
together,) he gives him a cast of his temper at last,
(p. 119.) and sends him away Avith this rap over the
pate, that he could not tell what to make of him and
his reasonings ; for that, in his judgment, he destroy
ed all principles of individuation. And in this man
ner we have him pluming himself, clapping his wings,
and crowing over all the fathers ; for which, and his
quarrelsome, domineering nature together, most think,
it is high time, that his comb were cut.
57

450 ANIMADVERSIONS ON SHERLOCK'S
Next, let us see what elogies he bestows upon him
self for his achievements in the Socinian controversy.
Concerning which, he tells the men of that persuasion,
that after his Vindication of the Trinity, he believes
they will talk more sparingly of absurdities and con
tradictions for the future, (p. 153.) But why, I
pray ? Is it because this author has got the monopoly
of them ? And that therefore the laws will be very
severe upon such as invade his property ? For, as for
any other reason, they have none, that I know of, to
talk more sparingly of absurdities and contradictions,
than they used to do, having so many more, out of his
writings, to talk of, than ever they had before. But
he proceeds, and closes his work with this triumph
over his antagonist, (and in him, I suppose, over all the
rest of that tribe, (p. 272.) that he is pretty confident
that he will never be able to reason to any purpose in
this cause again. As for his confidence, none doubts
of it ; but as for his prediction, if he proves no better a
prophet in what he here foretels of his Socinian oppo
nent, than in what he foretold of that learned person,
who answered both his Case of Allegiance and his Vin
dication of it, viz. that if he would but well examine
his arguments before he answered them, he should
expect to hear no more from him : And if withal, this
Socinian be but able to handle him at such a rate,
as that close reasoner has done, I dare undertake for
him, that he shall go out of the world the most baf
fled person that ever lived in it. But why (for God's
sake) must the Socinian's reasoning abilities ("which
his great lord and patron has given so high, so sig
nal, and so peculiar an encomium of*) all of a sudden
fail them, upon this author's publication of his book ?
What can the meaning of this be ? Why the mean
ing of it is this : Hie vir, hie est, &c. according to the
words by which Virgil pointed out Augustus Ceesar.
This, this is the man. This is that incomparable, ir-
*See his four sermons on the Divinity of our Blessed Lord.

VINDICATION OF THE TRINtTY. 451
refragable divine, who has wrote more convincingly
against the Socinians, (if you will believe him,) than
all, that ever wrote against them before, put together.
For notwithstanding all that has been wrote by those
great men, who from time to time have appeared in
this controversy, the controversy is still alive, and the
Socinians continue writing and reasoning still : And
even by this author's confession, (once at least) to some
purpose. For otherwise how could he say of his So
cinian adversary, that he would never be able to reason
to any purpose in this cause again, if he had never
reasoned so at all ? But so far are the Socinians from
being put out of countenance, and much less out of
heart, by what this man has wrote against them, that
I assure him, they look upon him as an opponent ac
cording to their heart's desire ; as having played a
fairer game into their hands than ever was dealt into
them before : So that next to their Avishing all the
world their friends, they wish they may always have
such adversaries. And therefore if they should resolve
to reason against him no more, he will have great
cause to thank either their inadvertency for over
looking the great advantage given them, or their good
nature for not taking it. For the book called by him
a Vindication of the Trinity, is certainly like a kind of
pot or vessel with, handles quite round it ; turn it
which way you will, you are sure to find something to
take hold of it by.
And the truth is, upon a strict, impartial comparing
of things together, I cannot see any new advantage
that he has got over the Socinians, unless it be, that
he thinks his three gods will be too hard for their one.
And perhaps it is upon presumption of this, that he
discharges that clap of thunder at them in his preface,
where he tell us, that having dipped his pen in the vin
dication of so glorious a cause, by the grace of God he
will never desert it, while he can hold pen in hand.
In which words, methinks I see him ready armed and

452 ANIMADVERSIONS ON SHERLOCK'S
mounted, (with his face towards the west.) and bran
dishing his sword aloft, all wreaking with Socinian
blood, and with the very darts of his eyes looking his
poor forgotten friends through and through. For, in
good earnest, the words sound very terribly to these
men ; but most terribly of all to the article itself ;
(which is like to suffer most by his vindication : For
thus to threaten that he will never leave off vexing it
as long as he can hold pen in hand, (which, I dare
say, will be as long as he can tell money with it,) this,
I say again, sounds very dreadfully.
*******
But after the many extraordinary elogies he has
passed upon himself for his writings, methinks it is
something pleasant to see him in his Continuation of
the Defence of Dr. Stilling fleet, (p. 121.) &c. strut
ting himself in these words, I am no archbishop yet.
Which shows what his most early thoughts ran upon,
and what his modesty would be at from the very first.
For otherwise, the purpose of the place, where this
comes in, had been fully served by saying, / for my
part am no archbishop, nor expect to be one. But the
addition of that little word, yet, was very significant,
and shows, that out of the abundance of his heart his
mouth spoke. For though indeed he presently adds,
And I very much suspect, I never shall be one, yet those
words were put in only ad frangendam invidiam, and
to qualify the fulsome arrogance of the first expression.
Howbeit in that he spoke his mind, in this he fences
against an inconvenience ; in that we have an account
of his nature, in this only a copy of his countenance.
And, I question not, but by this time his pretended
suspicion is passed into a contrary expectation, and
that the deanery of Paul's begins to make him think
himself heir apparent to Canterbury. And therefore
no wonder, if while big with such thoughts, speaking
in his apology of Dr. Wallis and himself, he sets him
self before him in these words. He (viz. the melan-

VINDICATION OF THE TRINITY. 453
choly stander-by) concludes with an heavy charge upon
myself and Dr. Wallis. By which, I suppose, he
would have Dr. Wallis knoAv his proper place. Though
I must tell him, that not only common modesty, but
also the common custom of the world, makes wise
men, whensoever they mention themselves with others,
place themselves last. And so it might have become
this author too, especially speaking of himself in con
junction Avith such an one as Dr. Wallis, who was a
person of fame and eminence, while this man was
learning his grammar, if ever he was so.
But to pass from his applauding himself, to the other
branch of his arrogance, in his scornful undervaluing
all such as differ from him, (though yet no more, nor
in any other thing, than in what his worship had dif
fered from himself,) we have him (Preface to his
Case of Allegiance) calling such as in their writings
could not fall in with his last sentiments about the
new oath, little writers. Concerning whom, I must
tell him, that it is often with writers, as it is with
books ; amongst which there are many little ones, that
exceed the worth, and outlive the reputation of much
greater. If indeed number of pamphlets makes a great
writer, this author is in no danger of being accounted
a little one. But as there is such a thing as multum
in parvo, so there is also parvum in multo ; and he who
will digest the trouble of reading this author's writings,
will need no other argument to prove it so. But as
for those excellent persons, whom he first slights, then
challenges, and afterwards flies from, by never reply
ing upon them, I would have him know, that the
world has already passed its judgment both upon them
and him too ; and therefore I would advise his haugh
tiness for the future, to forbear calling his antagonists
little writers, till by his answers^ he has made them so.
*******
It would be endless to set down all the dirty stuff
that has flowed from his billingsgate pen. But to re-

454 ANIMADVERSIONS ON SHERLOCK'S
peat and bring together so much as we have taken no
tice of, the reader may be pleased to bear away in his
memory such appellations as these, viz. Epicurean,
and ridiculer of Providence, popishly inclined, a slan
derer of the government, little writers, fools and he
retics, errant fop, trifling scribbler, shamefully ignorant
and impudent, fit to be sent to school again, one that
understands little else but jests and quibbles, one that
cannot understand plain and familiar sense, one that
understands neither Greek nor Latin, and the like.
These are the choise embellishments of his style. But
above all, that beloved word, nonsense, is always ready
at hand with him ; and out it flies at all persons, and
upon all occasions. And hardly can he write three or
four pages together, but, right or wrong, he throws it
in his adversary's face. One would think that he was
born with the word in his mouth, and that it grew up
with him from his infancy, and that in his very cradle
he cried nonsense, before he could speak it.
*********
I am at length come to a close of that work, which
I should much more gladly have been prevented, than
engaged in ; by being a reader, rather than the author
of a reply to this man's strange, unjustifiable innova
tions upon this great article of our religion. But it is
now a considerable time that the book, here animad
verted upon, has walked about the world, without any
public control ; and though in private discourse, gene
rally censured by all, yet (as to the point undertook
by me) hitherto answered by none ; which may well
be matter of melancholy consideration to all hearty
lovers of our church and ancient Christianity. Where
as, I dare say, had this heterodox piece been published
in a language understood by foreigners, we should long
since have had several confutations of it sent us from
abroad ; and probably, not without some severe reflec
tions upon the English church and clergy, for their si
lence in a cause, which so loudly called for their de-

VINDICATION OF THE TRINITY. 455
fence. To take off this reproach from our church, (in
some degree at least,) I have (while others far more
able to defend it, chuse rather to sit still and enjoy it)
ventured to set my weak hand to the vindication of a
principal article of her faith, against the rude attacks
of this bold undertaker. In which, though I freely
own, that all, that has been done by me in it, is ex
tremely below the dignity of the subject, yet I am
well assured that I have effectually answered this man ;
and if it should prove otherwise, I must ascribe it to a
peculiar misfortune attending me ; since none besides
has hitherto wrote against him, but has confuted him.
*******
The truth is, he has carried on an offensive war with
most that have wrote ; and there are very few, whom
he has not, one way or other, struck at and defied.
So that the matter being in effect brought to this point,
whether he shall be too hard for the world, or the
world for him ; I hope it will not be long in deciding.
He has for a great while, and in a very audacious man
ner, been preying and privateering upon many a wor
thy and good name, and as far as he was able, made
prize of the reputation of men better than himself:
And therefore it is now high time for such to think of
repaying the good turns done them, and for the in
jured world to retaliate upon the lawless aggressor.
This is, and has been, the custom of nations.
END.