I: : I iljiiiii \mw [im Mil; ifil, i'r iMIjl'jl ,'IMiJ U I lllli !f(ll ijj!!; liifi'i W mm ¦¦? (liii ^! iifi! m «¦¦¦¦ Mm If Hlli III Ili!!)11' !»-'¦! ; ; h li! hi 1 1 ! M l|.';i( H I m II'': r i ',' il ri :!'.' <*l:: ¦ l"-"l I II 'ni li in im i. I n I I 'I give tJufi 'BJMit : far thefiiifltlingef.a. College miht$,£ofoh.y' ¦ eliiibii&sw - . HALL'S CONTEMPLATIONS. TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE, HENKY, PRINCE OF WALES. ' Most Gracious Prince, — This work of mine, which, if my hopes and desires failme not, time may hereafter make great, I have presumed to dedicate to your Highness. I dare say, these meditations, how rude soever they may fall from my pen, in regard of their subject are fit for a Prince. Here your Highness shall see how the great pattern of Princes, the King or Heaven, hath ever ruled the world; how his substitutes, earthly kings, have ruled it under him, and with what success either of glory or ruin. Both your peace and war shall find here holy and great ex amples. And if history and observation be the best counsellors of your youth, what story can be so wise and faithful as that which God hath written for men, wherein you see both what had been done, and what should be ? What observation so worthy as that which is both raised from God, and directed to him ? If the propriety which your Highness justly hath in the Work and Au thor, may draw your princely eyes and heart the rather to these holy speculations, your servant shall be happier in this favour than in all your outward bounty ; as one to whom your spiritual progress deserves to be dearer than his own life; and whose daily suit is, that God would guide your steps aright in this slippery age, and continue to rejoice all good hearts in the view of your gracious proceedings. Your Highness's humbly devoted servant, JOSEPH HALL. V . =- -"-i",- ----i:'!l;.j:/--''! vi ' Btf^H B^PWH g^*'. ¦nK^':*- "'l^T 1 1\ AM /M n HH Ilk jf&*k ¦ '1 ¦¦-¦¦'¦-" H|^B / . . --.,/' -/' -^; /- ..//ft/ yj/sfir/-/, .if- ... i<'7/tn& CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE HISTOKICAL PASSAGES OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS. EIGHT EEV. JOSEPH HALL, D. D. BISHOP OF NORWICH. A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, By JAMES HAMILTON, .MEMBER OF THE BOTANICAI. SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH. A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED. EDINBURGH: PUBLISHED BY THOMAS NELSON. mdcccxx,xviii. STEREOTYPED AND PEINTED AT THE UNIVERSIT V PRESS 32, THISTLE BTRBbT, EDINBUOUH. CONTENTS, Life of Bishop Hall vii Page BOOK I. 1. ThS Creation 1 2. Man 4 3. Paradise 6 4. Cain and Abel 8 5. The Deluge . .^ 10 BOOK II. 1. Noah 12 2. Babel 13 3. Abraham ' 15 4. Isaac offered 16 S. Lot and Sodom 18 BOOK III. 1. Jacob and Esau 20 2. Jacob and Laban 23 3. Dinah 25 4. Judah and Thamar 26 5. Joseph 28 BOOK IV. 1. The Affliction of Israel ...... 33 2. Birth and Breeding of Moses ... 35 3. Moses Called 38 4. The Plagues of Egypt 41 BOOK V. 1. The Waters of Marah 45 2. The Quails and Manna 47 3. The Rock of Rephidim 50 4. The Foil' of Amalek, or Moses' hand lifted up 53 The Law 55 6. The Golden Calf 58 BOOK VI. 1. The Veil of Moses . 63 2. Nadab and Abilni ....... 66 3. Aaron and Miriam ....... ti8 i. The Searchers of Canaan 70 5. Korah's Conspiracy 73 BOOK VII. 1. Aaron's Censer and Rod 75 2. The Brazen Serpent 78 3. Balaam 80 4. Phineas 84 5. %The Death of Moses 87 BOOK VIII. ]. Rahab 89 2. Jordan divided 92 3. The Siege of Jerichb " 94 4. Achan 96 5. The Gibeonites 99 BOOK IX. ]. The Rescue of Gibeon 102 2. The Altar of the Reubenites . ... 104 3. Ehud and Eglon 106 Page 4. Jael and Sisera 108 5. Gideon's Calling 110 6. Gideon's Preparation and Victory . . 113 7. The Revenge of Suecoth and Penuel . 116 8. Abimelech's Usurpation 119 BOOK X. I. Jephthah ........... 121 2. Samson conceived . 124 3. Samson's Marriage 127 4. Samson's Victory 131 5. Samson's End 134 6. Micah's Idolatry 137 BOOK XI. 1. The Eevite's Concubine 1 .... 139 2. The Desolation of Benjamin .... 143 3. Naomi and Ruth 145 4. Boaz arid Ruth 148 5. Hannah and Peninnah 15l 6. Eli and Hannah 152 7. Eli and his Sons ........ 154 BOOK XII. The Ark and. Dagon 158 Ark's Revenge and Return .... 161 The Removal of the Ark 163 Meeting of Saul and Samuel .... 165 Inauguration of Saul 169 Samuel's Contestation 171 Saul's Sacrifice 173 Jonathan's Victory and Saul's Oath . . 175 BOOK XIII. Saul and Agag 178 The Rejection of Saul, and the Choice of David 180 David called to the Court 183 David and Goliah 184 Jonathan's Love, and Saul's Envy . . 188 Michal's Wile 190 David and Ahimelech 193 BOOK XIV. 1. Saul in David's Cave 195 2. Nabal and Abigail 197 3. David and Achish 200 4. Saul and the Witch of Endor .... 203 5. Ziklag spoiled and revenged .... 205 6. The Death of Saul 208 7. Abner and Joab 210 BOOK XV. 1. Uzziah, and the Ark removed . 2. Mephibosheth and Ziba .... 3. Hanun, and David's Ambassadors 4. David with Bathsheba and Uriah . 5. Nathan and David . . .' . . 6. Amnon and Tainar 7. Absalom's Return and Conspiracy 213 . 216.218 , 221224- 226 229 CONTENTS. BOOK XVI. Page 1. Shimei cursing 232 2. Ahithophel 234 3. The Death of Absalom 236 4. Sheba's Rebellion 239 5. The Gibeonites revenged 242 6 The Numbering of the People. . . .244 BOOK XVII. 1. Adonijah defeated ....... 247 2. David's End, and Solomon's Beginning 249 3. The Execution of Joab and Shimei . . 252 4. Solomon's Choice, with his Judgment upon the two Harlots ...... 254 5. The Temple 256 6. Solomon and the Queen of Sheba • . 259 7. Solomon's Defection ....... 261 BOOK XVIII. Rehoboam , , . . 264 Jeroboam 267 The Seduced Prophet 270 Jeroboam's Wife , , , 273 Asa ,. \. .,..,,... . 276 Elijah with the Sareptan 279 Elijah with the Baalites . . . . . 283 Elijah running before Ahab, fleeing from . Jezebel .287 BOOK XIX. 1. Ahab and Benhadad 291 2. Ahab and Naboth . ....... 295 3. AhabandMicaiah,ortheDeathof Ahab 299 4. Ahaziah sick, and Elijah revenged . 302 5. The Rapture of Elijah . . . . . .306 6. Eiisha healing the Waters — cursing the Children — relieving the Kings ... 310 7.' Eiisha with the Shunamite .... 314 age 8. Eiisha with Naaman 318 9. Eiisha raising the Iron, blinding the Assyrians 324 10. The Famine of Samaria relieved . . 327 BOOK XX. 1. The Shunamite suing to Jehoram — Eii sha conferring with Hazael .... 330 2. Jehu with Jehoram and Jezebel . . 334 3. Jehu killing the Sons of Ahab, and the Priests of Baal 338 4. Athaliah and Joash 342 5. Joash with Eiisha dying 345 6. Uzziah Leprous 348 . 7. Ahaz with his New Altar 351 8. The utter Destruction of the Kingdom of Israel 352 9. Hezekiah and Sennacherib .... 354 10. Hezekiah sick, recovered, Visited . . 358 11. Manasseh . . . .,. 362 12. Josiah's Reformation 366 13. Josiah's Death, with thd Desolation of the Temple and' Jerusalem . », . . 369 BOOK XXI. 1. Zerubbabel and' Ezra 372 2. Nehemiah building the Walls of Jeru salem . 378 3. Nehemiah redressing the Extortion of the Jews. .-...' 382 4. Ahasuerus feasting — Vash,ti cast off- Esther chosen 385 5. Haman disrespected by Mordecai Mor- cai's Message to Esther 389 6. Esther suing to Ahasuerus .... 394 7. Mordecai honoured J>y Haman . . . 397 8. Haman hanged — Mordecai advanced . 399 FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT, BOOK I. The Angel and Zachary ¦. 404 The Anunciation of Christ .... 408 The Birth of Christ 410 The Sages and the Star 413 The Purification 416 Herod and the Infants 418 BOOK II. Christ among the Doctors 421 Christ's Baptism 424 Christ tempted 426 Simon called 433 The Marriage in Cana 435 The Good Centurion 438 , BOOK III. . The Widow's. Son raised ..... 441 !. The .Ruler's Son cured 443 I. The Dumb Devil ejected 444 i. 'Matthew called. . .. ...... 449 i. Christ among the Gergesenes, or Legion and the Gadarene Herd . . . . . 451 BOOK IV. 1. The faithful Canaanite 460 2. The Deaf and Dumb Man cured . . 465 3. Zaccheus , . 467 4. John Baptist beheaded 475 6. The Five Loaves and Two Fishes . , 482 6, The Walk upon the Waters . . . . 487 7. The Bloody Issue healed .... 493 8. Jairus and his Daughter 498 9. The Motion of the two fiery Disciples repelled 500 10. The Ten Lepers 503 11. The Pool of Bethesda 507 12. The Transfiguration of Christ . . .512 13. The Same . . 516 14, The Same . 522 15. The Woman taken in Adultery . . 524 16. The Thankful Penitent 528 17. Martha and Mary 534 18. The Beggar that was born blind cured 537 19. The Stubborn Devil ejected . , . ,541. 20. The Widow's Mites 544 21. The Ambition of the two Sons of Ze bedee ........... 845 22. The Tribute-money paid .... 548 23. Lazarus dead .' .' 550 24. Lazarus raised 554 25. Christ's Procession to the Temple . . 560 26. The Fig-tree cursed . . . , . .564 27. Christ betrayed .,..,.., 565 28. The Agony 569 29. Peter and Malchus, or Christ appre hended ' ... 571 30. Christ before Caiaphas 574 31. Christ before Pilate , . . . . , .576 32. The Crucifixion , , 681 33. The Resurrection 589 34. The Ascension 598 LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. Im a posthumous volume, entitled " The Shaking of the Olive Tree,'' first appeared two autobiographical tracts, — the one, " Observations of some Specialties of Divine Providence in the Life of Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich ; " the- other, " Hard Measure," setting forth the sufferings of his later years. With much good taste, these sketches have been frequently reprinted, where a more formal Life might have been expected ; and in the present instance, the same course might have been pursued with advantage. But as some passages in these fragments refer to subjects of trivial or temporary importance, and other sources of information are open, we have endea voured, by omitting the one, to find place for the other. Bishop Hail's object in leaving the chief events of his life on record, was worthy of the man. " Not out of a vain affectation of my own glory, which I know how little it can avail me when I am gone hence, but out of a sincere desire to give glory to my God, whose wonderful providence I have noted in all my ways, have I recorded some remarkable passages of my fore-past life. What I have done is worthy of nothing but silence and forgetfulness ; but what God hath done for me is worthy of everlasting and thankful memory." Joseph Hall was born July 1, 1574, at Bristow Park, in the parish of Ashby de la Zouch, Leicestershire. His parentage was " honest and well-allowed." His father held an office under the Earl of Huntingdon, which enabled him to procure a good education for his twelve children, and warranted his ambition that one of them should enter the ministry, at a time when a University was not the only avenue to the Church. But the instructions and impressions which Joseph received from his mother were a better qualification than the lessons of all his teachers; and the consciousness of their value in after days invested the memory of the gentle giver with an affection doubly filial. Winifred Bambridge was the Monica of Bishop Hall, A body always feeble, and often anguish-stricken, was the appropriate tenement of a spirit sorrowful and sorely exercised. But happily the clouds which at one time shaded the piety of this excel lent woman, did not render it forbidding to the more genial temper of her son. He rejoiced in the light, when others would have complained of the halo, nor refused to be conducted to the kingdom by a guide whose countenance was sometimes sad. And he at last had the satisfaction of seeing her set free from these vexing thoughts, and deriving the joy of a religion of hope. " What with these trials, so had she profited in the school of Christ, that it was hard for any friend to come from her discourse no ¦whit holier. How often have I blessed the memory of those divine passages of ex perimental divinity which I have heard from her mouth ! What day did she pass without a large task of private devotion, whence she would still come forth with a countenance of undissembled mortification ! Never any lips have read to me such feeling lectures of piety; neither have I known any soul that more accurately prac tised them than her own. Temptations, desertions, and spiritual comforts were her viii LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. usual theme ; shortly, for I can hardly take off my pen from so exemplary a subject, her life and death were saint-like." It was at the public school of his native village that he received the elements of his education. After spending " some years, not altogether indigently, under the ferule of such masters as the place afforded, and attaining some competent ripeness for the University," as he was now fifteen years of age, it became a subject of much delibera tion to his father, and anxious interest to himself, where he should next be sent. His father's fortune, not so laige as his family, rendered the University almost unattain able; and Joseph's schoolmaster, in his zeal for so meritorious a pupil, had privately negociated with Mr. Pelset, a clerical friend, famed for his talents and the eloquence with which he displayed them, to receive him into his house as his scholar ; — Mr. Pelset undertaking, " within one seven years, to send him forth, no less furnished with arts, languages, and grounds of theoretical divinity, than the carefullest tutor in the strictest college of either University." The scheme, when unfolded to his father,- so completely adapted itself to his circumstances and desires, that he speedily took the requisite steps for securing its advantages. " There, and now were all my hopes of my future life upon blasting. The indentures were preparing, the time was set, my suits were addressed for the journey. What was the issue ? O God ! thy providence made and found it. Thou knowest how heartily and sincerely, in those my young years, I did cast myself upon thy hands ; with what faithful resolution I did in this particular occasion resign myself over to thy disposition, earnestly begging of thee in my fervent prayers, to order all things to the best; and confidently waiting upon thy will for the event. Certainly, never did I in all my life more clearly roll myself upon the Divine Providence, than I did in this business; and it succeeded accordingly." While these measures were in progress, his elder brother had occasion to visit Cam bridge, and was kindly entertained by his townsman Nathaniel Gilby, a Fellow of Emanuel College. The majestic structures, the learned leisure, and the old renown of Cambridge, won this brother " to a great love and reverence of an academical life," and powerfully enforced Mr. Gilby's earnest persuasions by all means to send his younger brother thither. Under these influences he returned to Ashby, and with Mr. Gilby's message reported in the most glowing terms his own impressions. On his knees he begged that his father would not drown the expectations of the youthful aspirant " in a shallow country channel ;" and concluded by beseeching him, if the cost were the hindrance, to sell part of the land which should otherwise be his own inheritance. An appeal thus urged could not be resisted, and with an honest enthusiasm the governor of Ashby exclaimed, " Cost what it will, to the University he shall go." The decision was opportunely made, for instantly a knock at the door announced a messenger from Mr. Pelset, to tell that he was waiting for his pupil, and would expect him on the morrow. Mr. Hall told the servant that he was some minutes too late, and informing him of his change of purpose, dismissed him with a courteous message to his master, whilst Joseph welcomed the change in his destination with tears of joy. • He hadspent only two years in Emanuel College, when his father, " whose not very large cistern was to feed many pipes besides his," was prevailed on to recall him, that he might become the master of that school where he had shortly before been scholar. His extreme disappointment at this premature interruption of his studies was so evi dent as to move the pity of an uncle, by whose generosity he was enabled to resume his place at college, where he soon after obtained a scholarship. But, though other four years terminated his right to this maintenance, they had not abated his literary enthusiasm, and had only exalted into passion his love for the haunts of learning. There was only one capacity in which he could prolong his residence, and from that he was precluded by the statutes. These allowed of only a single fellow from any shire and the Leicestershire fellowship was preoccupied by his townsman and tutor Mr. Gilby. Here, not for the first time, he experienced the blessing of a faithful friend. LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. ix For in conversation with the Earl of Huntingdon, his class-fellow Mr. Cholmley so represented his worth and accomplishments, as to engage in his behalf the warm in terest of his father's patron. The Earl was much concerned to hear that his hopes of a fellowship were forestalled ; but on learning the reason, resolved on a remedy. He sent for Mr. Gilby, and offered to make him his chaplain, on terms which gained his ready assent. Mr. Gilby tendered his resignation at Cambridge ; it was accepted, and three days of public competition for the vacant fellowship were named. The examination proceeded, and at the close of the second day word arrived that the Earl of Huntingdon was dead. Joseph Hall instantly repaired to the Master of the College, and entreated him, in regard for his friend now thrown destitute, to stay the election. He represented that his own youth less required the situation, and held out better prospects of provision in other ways. But he was told, that the place having been declared vacant, the election must proceed, and that his tutor " must wait upon the providence of God for his disposing elsewhere." " Then was I with a cheerful unanimity chosen into that society, which if it had any equals, I dare say had none be yond it, for good order, studious carriage, strict government, austere piety ; in which I spent six or seven years more, with such contentment as the rest of my life hath in vain striven to yield. Now was I called to public disputations often, with no ill suc cess ; for never durst I appear in any of those exercises of scholarship, till I had from my knees looked up to heaven for a blessing, and renewed my actual dependence upon that divine hand. In this while, two years together I was chosen to the rhetoric lecture in the public schools, when I was encouraged with a sufficient frequence of au ditors ;- but finding that well-applauded work somewhat out of my way, not without. a secret blame of myself for so much excursion, I fairly gave up that task in the midst of those poor acclamations to a worthy successor, Dr. Dod, and betook myself to those serious studies, which might fit me for the high calling whereunto I was destined, wherein, after I had carefully bestowed myself for a time, I took the boldness to enter into sacred orders ; the honour whereof having once attained, I was no niggard of that talent which God had entrusted to me, preaching often, as occasion was offered, both in country villages abroad, and at home in the most awful auditory of the Uni versity." The rhetoric lecture was not the only avocation of this tranquil period. Mr. Hall then first adventured in the field of authorship ; but either from deference to an ecclesiastical censure strangely passed upon it, or because he had afterwards learned so completely to count all things but loss for Christ, we do hot find him making any subsequent reference to a publication which has procured him applause among many who are ignorant of his nobler works.* It was in his 23d year that he gave to the world his Satires, and introduced a species of composition new to Bri tish literature. The circumstance of his being the first English satirist would entitle the Virgtdemium to a place of importance in the history of our national poetry ; but the united suffrages of skilful critics — with one formidable exception, and personal animosity made Milton here an incompetent judge — have awarded it other claims. Its greatest fault is obscurity — an obscurity which the learned notes of Warton and Singer have only partially dispelled — the more provoking as having been purposely assumed by one of the most perspicuous Of writers, and not unjustly punished by the comparative neglect to which it has consigned the production. It was Hall's very natural mis take, with no models but the ancient satirists, to consider their style of intricacy and innuendoes essential s and so completely was he possessed by this misconcep tion, that he thinks it incumbent to apologize for the excessive perspicuity of his verses. • Warton observes, Jiot with his usual judgment, that " the poet is better known than the prelate or the polemic." So far is this from being the case, that of many thousands who have read Bishop Hall's Meditations and Sermons with pleasure and advantage, few have ever heard that he was a poet, arid still fewer that his poems were once proscribed by authority, as unfit to be circulated or read— Chalmers' Biog. Diet. Art. Hall. x LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. But more than the meaning is enigmatical. By clothing the elliptical sententious- ness of Persius in the antiquated phraseology of Chaucer, he has locked his sense in a double cipher. In one respect he improved upon his patterns, as his succes sors have degenerated from him — in the freedom from offensive personalities which distinguishes his Satires — the "biting" and the "toothless" alike. It was his noble determination " to mar his own verse rather than another's name." The faithful delineation of manners gives us an acquaintance with the times beyond the reach, though not beyond the province of history,— whilst the couplets are not loaded with inglorious names, which nothing but such distinction could have saved from forget fulness. Widely severed as were the peculiarities of Pope — perspicuous, modernized, and personal — we do not wonder that these Satires should have been the subjects of his minute and frequent study when he at last discovered them, and that he should have expressed regret that " he had not seen them sooner." " Whether we consider the age ofthe man or of the world, they appear to be equally wonderful," is the verdict of an accomplished critic* Nor can we withhold the more specific and discrimina ting sentence of one, whose large acquaintance with the imagery and diction of his fether-poets has made him the too fastidious judge of his own. " In his Satires," says, Mr. Campbell, " he discovered not only the early vigour of his own genius, but the powers and pliability of his native tongue. * * * In the point, and volubility, and vigour of Hall's numbers, we might frequently imagine ourselves perusing Dryden. This may be exemplified in the harmony and picturesqueness of the following descrip tion of a magnificent rural mansion, which the traveller approaches in the hopes of reaching the seat of ancient hospitality, but finds it deserted by its selfish owner : — Beat the broad gates ; a goodly hollow sound, With double echoes, doth again rebound; But not a dog doth batk to welcome thee, Nor churlish porter canst thou chafing see. All dumb and silent, like the dead of night, Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite ; The marble pavement hid with desert weed. With house-leek, thistle, dock, and hemlock seed. Look to the tow'red chimnies, which should be The wind-pipes of good hospitality, Through which it breatheth to the open air, Betokening life and liberal welfare ; Lo, there th' unthankful swallow takes her rest, And fills the tunnel with her circled nest. " His Satires are neither cramped by personal hostility, nor spun out to vague de clamations on vice, but give us the form and pressure of the times, exhibited in the faults of coeval literature, and in the foppery or sordid traits of prevailing manners. The age was undoubtedly fertile in eccentricity. * * * From the literature of the age, Hall proceeds to its manners and prejudices, and among the latter derides the preva lent confidence in alchymy and astrology. To us this ridicule appears an ordinary effort of reason; but it was in him a common sense above the level ofthe times."f To do justice to " the vigorous and musical couplets of this old poet," we must extract the opening passage of the 3d book, which our readers may like none the worse for its entire freedom from obscurity. No classical description of the golden age can surpass the playful ingenuity of the following : Time was, and that was term'd the time of gold, When world and time were young that now are old, (When quiet Saturn sway'd the mace of lead, And pride was yet unborn and yet unbred.) Time was, that while the autumn fall did last, Our hungry sires gap'd for the falling mast. Could no unhusked acorn leave the tree, But there was challenge made whose it might he. * Edinburgh Review, vol. xxxi. p. 481. f Campbell's Specimens of the British Poets, vol. ii. pp. 257-9. 1 LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xi But if some nice and licorous appetite Desir'd more dainty dish of rare delight, They scal'd the stored crab with bended knee, Till they had sated their delicious eye : Or search'd the hopeful thicks of hedgy rows, For briery berries, or haws, or sourer sloes : Or when they meant to fare the fin'st of all They lick'd oak-leaves besprent with honey-fall. As for the thrice three-angled beech nut-shell Or chesnut's armed husk and hid kernell, No squire durst touch, the law would not afford. Kept for the court, and for the king's own board. These Satires, though the principal, were not the only poetical effusions of our author. During his college days he complied with a prevailing taste, and composed a multitude of occasional poems, threnodies and gratulatory odes. From one of the earliest we transcribe a few stanzas, of which the euphonic pomp and well-adjusted expressions may help to reconcile us to an imagery which the long-forgotten occasion has rendered extravagant. The whole elegy on Dr. Whitaker seems to have been penned with ink from Cocytus, and is such as Chatterton, in one of his most dismal moods, would have delighted to imitate : — , Bind ye my brows with mourning cyparisse, And palish twigs of deadly poplar tree, Or if some sadder shades ye .can devise, Those sadder shades veil my light-loathing eye ; I loathe the laurel hands I loved best, And all that maketh mirth and pleasant rest. Thou flattering sun that ledst this loathed light, Why didst thou in thy saffron robes arise ? Or fold'st not up the day in dreary night ? And wak'st the western' world's amazed eyes ? And never more rise from the ocean, To wake the morn, or chase night-shades again. Hear we no bird of day or dawning morn, To greet the sun, or glad the waking ear : Sing out, ye screech-owls, louder than aforn, And ravens black of night, of death, of drear: And all ye harking fowls yet never seen, That fill the moonless night with hideous din. That we may not return to this subject — in later years Hall employed his muse on a dearer but more arduous theme, a metrical translation of the Psalms. The first ten appeared with the title, *' Some few tof David's Psalms, metaphrased for a taste of the rest." We could have wished that his success had been more commensurate with his laudable design ; but the " Metaphrase " wants the vigour, the pathos, the me lody, in short the poetry of his youthful productions. There have been those who could call forth rich music from a lyre of their own, without being able to retune the harp of David ; nor can we wonder that the chords which refused the enchantments bf Milton and Byron, should have been silent beneath the touch of Hall. Having obtained orders, his own inclinations and the rules of the society to which he belonged, made him desirous of some extra-collegiate appointment. At that time a school had recently been opened at Tiverton in Devon, provided with an ample endowment, and left principally under the patronage of the Lord Chief-Justice Pop- ham. He applied to the master of Emanuel College to recommend a governor for "the new erection. Dr. Chaderton without any hesitation nominated Mr. Hall, and immediately carried him to London, that he might introduce him to the Chief- Justice. The illustrious judge was so fascinated by the indications of genius and accomplish ments which this interview revealed, that before they parted, the one had promised his ' influence, and the other signified his readiness to accept. On leaving his Lordship, ' Mr. Hall had not proceeded far when he was accosted by a messenger in the street, > who put a letter into his hand. Dr. Chaderton remarking a change in the counte nance of his friend as he perused his despatches, asked what the matter might be? xii LIFE OF BISHOP HALL* Mr. Hall answered by handing him the letter, which contained a very pressing invi tation from Lady Drury to the Rectory of Halsted in Suffolk. " Sir," said Mr. Hall, " methinks God pulls me by the sleeve, and tells me it is his will I should rather go to the, east than to the west." " Nay," said Dr. Chaderton," I should rather think that God would have you go westward, for that he hath contrived your engagement before the tender of this letter, which therefore coming too late, may receive a fair and easy answer." " Pardon my dissent," was Mr. Hall's reply; " I well know that divinity was the end whereto I was destined by my parents, and this I have so constantly proposed to myself, that I never meant other than to pass through this western school to it ; but I see that God, who found me ready to go the farther way about, now calls me the nearest and directest way to that sacred end." To this the good Doctor had nothing farther to oppose, and though it was the frustration of his journey to London, he recognized the finger of God, and joyfully relinquished his protegee to the better care of Providence. All that remained was to satisfy Lord Popham. This Mr. Hall undertook ; and not only was his apology as frankly sustained as it was candidly given, but he was enabled to recompense the former kindness of a friend. For, remembering by whose representations to the Earl of Huntingdon he had obtained his fellowship, he stated the qualifications, of Mr. Cholmley so effectually, that the vacant place was transfered to him, and they " two, who came together to the University, must now leave it at once." * His next step in life is too important not to be told, and his own account is too characteristic to admit of any other relating it. " Being now settled in that sweet and civil country of Suffolk, near to St. Edmuhd's-Bury, my first work was to build up my house, which was then extremely ruinous ; which done, the uncouth solitariness of my life, and the extreme incommodity of that single housekeeping, drew my thoughts, after two years, to condescend to the necessity of a married estate, which God no less strangely provided for me. For walking from the church on Monday in the Whitsun- week, with a grave and reverend minister, Mr. Grandidge, I saw a comely modest gentlewoman standing at the door of that house where we were invited to a wedding- dinner, and inquiring of that worthy friend whether he knew her, ' Yes, quoth he, I know her well, and have bespoken her for your wife.* When I further demanded an account of that answer, he told me she was the daughter of a gentleman whom he much respected, Mr. George Winniff of Bretenham ; that out of an opinion had of the fitness of that match for me, he had already treated with her father about it, whom he found very apt to entertain it, advising me not to neglect the opportunity; and not concealing the just praises of the modesty, piety, good disposition, and other virtues that were lodged in that seemly presence, I listened to the motion as sent from God, and at last upon due prosecution happily prevailed, enjoying the comfortable society of that meet help for the space of forty-nine years." The increasing comforts of Halsted Rectory could not hinder him from listening soon after to a proposal made by Sir Edmund Bacon, that he should accompany him in a continental tour. The amount of enterprise and resources"which such an expedition then demanded can scarcely now be understood. In those days the travelling retinue of a nobleman resembled the Mecca caravan, and he marched under an escort which showed that he was taking his pleasure in an enemy's country. Mr. Hall possessed a high degree of that noble curiosity which compels some to labour in the fire for knowledge, whilst others, waiting till wisdom come, are contentedly ignorant. No one in reading his works can fail to be struck with the indications of a busy, quick, and observant eye. Many of his most striking and original remarks are the result of saga ciously noting, and dexterously applying what passes before the eyes of other men too often to appear uncommon, that is, to appear in any way remarkable. But the pro- * From the above narrative, it will be seen that Mr. Campbell has committed an oversight in stating that Hall " was some time master of the school at Tiverton, in Devonshire." British Poets, II. 260. He was never actually appointed. LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xiii spect of exploring a field then so seldom traversed dilated his mind with absolute ecstasy, and he rejoiced in the ungathered harvest of knowledge which it promised. Above all, he wished to visit a Roman Catholic country. He longed to behold popery in reality; not the crippled crouching thing which prolonged a skulking existence in England, but the stalwart galled and raging Apollyon that stalked tremendously through Europe. Sir Edmund travelled in the protection of the English ambassador, and for farther concealment, Mr. Hall exchanged his canonicals for the silken robes and gay colours of a fashionable English gentleman. And notwithstanding the frequent debates into which his zeal betrayed him amongst Jesuits and friars, the suspicious excellence of his Latin, and the sturdy protestantism, which only " the hulk of a tall Brabanter" saved from martyrdom at the procession of John the Baptist, he passed undetected from Calais to Brussels, from Nemours to Spa, and then, returning, to Antwerp and Middleburgh. It was our traveller's anxiety to view the ancient college of this last city, which lost him his voyage home. He left his party at Flushing, and lingered so long at Middleburgh, that his friends availed themselves of a favourable wind, and he arrived in time to look after their vessel far at sea. " Sadly returning to Middleburgh, he waited long for an inconvenient and tempestuous passage." In his epistles he has given an account of this expedition, an extract from which will serve the additional purpose of enabling the reader to compare his earlier — more quaint, dense, and cramp — with his later style. His six Decads of Epistles are the first specimens of that fa miliar and delightful composition since so common in our language. He claims this merit for himself, and we do not know of any British author who published letters of his own before him. " Besides my hopes, not my desires, I travelled of late ; for knowledge partly, and partly for health. There was nothing that made not my journey pleasant, save the labour of the way : which_yet was so sweetly deceived by the society of Sir Edmund Bacon, (a gentleman truly honourable, beyond all titles), that I found small cause to complain. The sea brooked not me, nor I it; an unquiet element, made only for won der and use, not for pleasure. Alighted once from that wooden conveyance, and un even way, I bethought myself how fondly our life is committed to an unsteady and reeling piece of wood, fickle winds, restless waters, while we may -set foot on stedfast and constant earth. Lo, then everything taught me, everything delighted me; so ready are we to be affected with these foreign pleasures, which at home we should overlook. I saw much as one might in such a span of earth in so few months. The time fa voured me : for now newly had the key of peace opened those parts which war had before closed; closed (I say) to all English, save either fugitives or captives. All civil occurrences (as what fair cities, what strange fashions, entertainments, dangers, de lights, we found), are fit for other ears and winter evenings. What I noted, as a divine, within the sphere of my profession, my paper shall not spare in some part to report. " Along our way, how many churches saw we demolished! Nothing left, but rude heaps, to tell the passenger there hath been both devotion and hostility. Fury hath done that there, which Covetousness would do with us; would do, but shall not: the truth within shall save the walls without. And, to speak truly (whatever the vulgar exclaim), Idolatry pulled down those walls, not rage. If there had been no Hollander to raze them, they would have fallen alone rather than hide so much impiety under their guilty roof. These are spectacles, not so much of cruelty as justice ; cruelty of tnan, justice of God. But (which I wondered at) churches fall and Jesuits' colleges rise everywhere. There is no city where those are not either rearing or built. Whence cometh this? Is it, for that devotion is not so necessary as policy ? Those men (as we say of the fox) fare best where they are most cursed. None so much spited of their own, none so hated of all, none so opposed by ours ; and yet these ill weeds grow. Whosoever lives long shall see them feared of their own, who now hate them ; shall see these seven lean kine devour all the fat beasts that feed on the meadows of Tiber. xiv LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. " At Brussels I saw some English women profess themselves vestals, with a thou sand rites, I know not whether more ridiculous or magical. Poor souls ! they could not be fools enough at home. It would have made you to pity, laugh, disdain (I know not which more), to see by what cunning sleights and fair pretences that weak sex was fetched into a wilful bondage ; and (if these two can agree) willingly constrained to serve a master whom they must and cannot obey. What follows hence? Late sor row, secret mischief, misery irremediable. " I talked there, in more boldness perhaps than wisdom, with Costerus, a famous Jesuit, an old man, more testy than subtile, and more able to wrangle than satisfy: Our discourse was long and roving; and on his part full both of words and vehemency. He spake as at home, I as a stranger : yet so as he saw me modestly peremptory. The particulars would swell my letter too much: it is enough that the truth lost less than I gained. " At Ghent, a city that commands reverence for age and wonder for the greatness, we fell upon a capuchin novice, who wept bitterly because he was not allowed to make himself miserable. His head had now felt the razor, his back the rod: all that laconical discipline pleased him well, which another being condemned to, would justly account a torment.' What hindered then? Piety to his mother would not permit this which he thought piety to God. He could not be a willing beggar, unless his mother would beg unwillingly. He was the only heir of his father, the only stay of his mother : the comfort of her widowhood depended on this her orphan ; who now naked must enter into the world of the capuchins, as he came first into this, leaving his goods to the division of the fraternity — the least part whereof should have been hers, whose he wished all. Hence those tears. These men for devout, the Jesuits for learned and pragmatical, have engrossed all opinion from other orders. O hypocrisy ! No capuchin may take or touch silver. This metal is as very an anathema to them, as the wedge of gold to Achan ; at the offer whereof he starts back, as Moses from the serpent : yet he carries a boy with him, that takes and carries it, and never complains of either metal or measure. I saw and laughed at it, and by this open trick of hypocrisy sus pected more, more close. "At Nemours, on a pleasant and steep hill-top, we found one that was termed a married hermit ; approving his wisdom above his fellows, that could make choice of so cheerful and sociable a solitariness. Whence, after a delightful passage up the sweet river Mosa, we visited the populous and rich city of Leodium (Liege). I would those streets were more moist with wine than with blood ; wherein no day, no night is not dismal to some. No law, no magistrate lays hold on the known murderer if himself list ; for three days after this fact, the gates are open and justice shut : private violence may pursue him, public justice cannot : whence some of more hot temper carve themselves revenge ; others take up with a small pecuniary satisfaction. O England, thought I, happy for justice, happy for security ! There you shall find in every corner a maumet (image) ; at every door a beggar, in every dish a priest. From thence we passed to the Spa, a village famous for her medicinal and mineral waters, compounded of iron and copperas ; the virtue whereof yet the simple inhabitant as cribes to their beneficial saint, whose heavy foot hath made an ill-shaped impression in a stone of the upper well : — a water more wholesome than pleasant, and yet more famous than wholesome. " One thing I may not omit without sinful oversight ; a short but memorable story which the graphier of that town (though of different religion) reported to more ears than ours. When the last inquisition tyrannized in those parts, and helped to spend the faggots of Ardenne, one of the rest, a confident confessor, being led far to his stake, sung psalms along the way, in a heavenly courage-and victorious triumph. The cruel officer, envying his last mirth, and grieving to see him merrier than his torment*. ors, commanded him silence. He sings still, as desirous to improve his last breath to LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xv the best. The view of his approaching glory bred his joy ; his joy breaks forth into a cheerful confession. The enraged sheriff causes his tongue to be cut off near the roots. Bloody wretch ! It had been good music to have heard his shrieks ; but to hear his music was torment. The poor martyr dies in silence, rests in peace. Not many months after, our butcherly officer hath a son born with his tongue hanging down upon his chin, like a deer after long chase, which never could be gathered up within the bounds of his lips. O the divine hand, full of justice, full of revenge ! " Let me tell you yet, ere I take off my pen, two wonders more, which I saw in that wonder of cities, Antwerp ; — one a solemn mass in a shambles, and that on God's day ; while the house was full of meat, of butchers, of buyers ; some kneel ing, others bargaining, most talking, all busy. It was strange to see one house sacred to God and the belly, and how these two services agreed. The priests did eat flesh, the butchers sold flesh, in one roof at one instant. The butcher killed and sold it by pieces ; the priest did sacrifice, and orally devour it whole.* The other, —an Eng lishman, so madly devout that he had wilfully housed up himself as an anchorite, the worst of all prisoners. There sat he, pent up for his farther merit, half hunger-starved for the charity of the citizens. It was worth seeing how manly he could bite in his secret want, and dissemble his over-late repentance. I cannot commend his mortifi cation, if he wish to be in heaven ; yea in purgatory, to be delivered from thence. I durst not pity him, because his durance was willing, and as he hoped meritorious; but such encouragement as he had from me, such thank shall he have from God, who, instead of an Euge which he looks for, shall angrily challenge him with ' who required this?'" The interview with Father Costerus, to which Mr. Hall alludes in the foregoing letter, has been recorded elsewhere, and is characteristic of the times. It often hap pens that the prevailing notions of the day supply arguments for some great truth, to which controversialists resort more eagerly, and on which they are disposed to lay greater stress, than on those proofs which are alike weighty and conclusive in every age. It has been said that Baxter, in his book on the Immortality of the Soul, per plexed the sceptics of his time by a reference to ghosts and apparitions more than by all his other reasonings ; and if they were so inconsistent in their credulity, we can scarcely conceive anything fairer or more irresistible as an argumentum ad homines, however inefficacious it may be in the altered belief of the present generation. It was similar ground which our protestant divine occupied in common with his popish antagonist, without any suspicion of its soundness. An English barrister, a proselyte to popery, and resident at Brussels, was narrating to Sir Edmund Bacon, in a style of extrava gant hyperbole, the wonders lately performed by our Lady at Zichem ; and to silence the shrewd objections of the worthy knight, had instanced a cure miraculously wrought upon himself. At this moment Mr. Hall entered the apartment, and, there being nothing in his dress to indicate his profession, joined freely in the conversation. *' Put case this report of your's be granted for true, I beseech you teach me what difference there is betwixt these miracles and those which were wrought by Vespasian, by some vestals with charms and spells ; the rather that I have noted in the late pub lished report, some patient prescribed to come upon a Friday, and some to wash in such a well before their approach, and divers other such charm-like operations." The confident tone of the lawyer was suddenly lowered by this unexpected interro gatory, and he excused himself from a reply, saying, " I do not profess this kind of scholarship ; but we have in the city many famous divines, with whom if it would please you to confer, you might sooner receive satisfaction." Mr. Hall asked who was considered the most eminent divine ofthe place. The English gentleman named Father Costerus, and undertook to secure him a conference, to which Mr. H. gladly * We need scarcely say that the author alludes to that monstrous tenet of popery, transub stantiation. xvi LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. acceded. Accordingly, in the afternoon the zealous Romanist returned to announce that the father had agreed to the conference, and to accompany him to the Jesuits' College. There arrived, the porter opened the gate, and ejaculating a Deo gratias, admitted the stranger. He did not remain long in the hall till Costerus joined him. After a friendly salutation, the priest ran on in a long and formal oration on the unity of that church in which only men can be saved, when Mr. Hall took advantage ofthe first moment which civility allowed to interrupt him. " Sir, I beseech you mistake me not. My nation tells you of what religion I am. I come not hither out of any doubt of my professed belief, or any purpose to change it ; but moving a question to this gentleman concerning the pretended miracles of the time, he pleased to refer me to yourself for my answer; which motion of his I was the more willing to embrace, for the fame that I have heard of your learning and worth. And if you can give me satisfaction herein, I am ready to receive it." So seating themselves at a table in the end of the hall, they prepared for a vigorous encounter. The-jesuif commenced by giving his view of the distinction between miracles diabolical and divine. This did not satisfy Mr. Hall, and he stated his objections. Upon this his opponent diverged into a vehement assault on the English church, which he protested could not yield one miracle. Mr. Hall reclaimed, that in his church they had manifest proofs of the ejection of devils by fasting and prayer. " If it can be proved," cried Costerus, "that ever any devil was dispossessed in your church,- 1 shall quit my religion." In the long and keen debate which followed, Mr. Hall started many questions to which his antagonist could give no satisfactory answers. They soon obtained an additional au ditor in Fattier Baldwin, an English Jesuit, who came in and seated himself on a form at the other end of the table, and seemed not a little mortified that a gentleman ol his nation should leave the college as unenlightened as he came. The next morning the persevering lawyer arrived with a message from this father, expressing his disap pointment that an Englishman should have . preferred a conference with a foreigner, when he would have been happy to have his acquaintance and to give him satisfaction. Mr. Hall would as willingly have made arrangements for this interview as for the former, had not a secret signal from Sir Edmund reminded him that they came to travel, not to argue, and that their safe-conduct would not be strengthened by an additional debate. Father Baldwin's message was therefore politely declined, Mr. Hall having no hope of converting the priest, and being resolved that no papist should alter him. It may be worth while to mention, as justifying an objection to the English ritual strongly urged by the Presbyterians of that day, that in his voyage up the Maese, Mr. Hall had what he calls "a dangerous conflict" with a Sorbonist of the Carmelite order, on the subject of the Eucharist. This friar was trying to persuade the com pany, from the circumstance of their kneeling at the sacrament, that the English pro- testants recognised the doctrine of transubstantiation. By what arguments Mr. Hall confuted the calumny we do not know ; but the debate waxed so hot, that Sir Edmund was constrained to interfere, and call away his polemical friend from a discussion more manly than discreet, in a country where all argument against the established religion was prohibited by law: — not, however, till the prior indicated his suspicions to the bystanders, by significantly telling them that he had once prepared a suit of green satin for his travels in England. Mr. Hall was afterwards employed by his Majesty King James, to persuade the people of Scotland into kneeling at the communion. It does not appear that he executed his commission with great alacrity ; and when he found his church claimed by Roman Catholics on the ground of this ceremony, he might well have shown indulgence for those Presbyterians who saw in it a remnant of popery. At Spa he composed the second of his three centuries of "Meditations and Vows." We know what lofty musings have arisen in poetic minds in the forests and by the " waves" of Ardenne ; but the thoughts of our traveller took their rise in heaven. LIPE OF BISHOP HALL. xvii As the productions of an able pen, these Meditations reflect lustre on the talents of their author, and give him as good a claim to be styled, as he has often been, the Christian Seneca, as a Latin father to be called the Christian Cicero. Each embodies some brief reflection, and closes with a practical resolution : in this last respect re minding us of perhaps the most instructive document in the life of that wise self- observer, President Edwards. They are precious, as revealing thoughts which had " long dwelt in a sanctified bosom, as recording the animadversions of one who was no less sagacious in reading the hearts of 'others than strict in watching his own, and as contributing wise directions to others advancing in the same heavenward journey. No reader need grudge a few extracts, should they bring him acquainted with a work never to be forgotten, but perhaps not sufficiently known in practical divinity : — " As there is a foolish wisdom, so there is a wise ignorance, in not prying into God's ark, in not inquiring into things not revealed. I would fain know all that I need, and all that I may. I leave God's secrets to himself. It is happy for me that God makes me of his court, though not of his council." " The devil himself devised that slander of early holiness, A young saint, an old devil. Sometimes young devils have proved old saints, never the contrary: but true saints in youth do always form angels in their age. I will strive to be ever good ; but if I should not find myself best at last, I should fear I was never good at all." "As we say, There would be no thieves, if there were no receivers ; so would there not be so many open mouths to detract and slander, if there were not so many open ears to entertain them. If I cannot stop another man's mouth from speaking ill, I will either open my mouth to reprove it, or else I will stop mine ears from hearing it ; arfd let him see in my face that he hath no room in my heart." " I am a stranger even at home : therefore if the dogs of the world bark at me, I neither care nor wonder." " I care not for any companion, but such as may teach me somewhat, or learn somewhat of me ; but these shall much pleasure me, neither know I whether more-. For though it be an excellent thing to learn, yet I learn but to teach others." " If I die, the world shall miss me but a little ; I shall miss it less. Not it me — because it hath such store of better men: not I it— because it hath so much ill, and I shall have so much happiness." " I acknowledge no Master of Requests in heaven but one — Christ my Mediator. I know I cannot be so happy as not to need him ; nor so miserable that he should contemn me. Good prayers never come -weeping home : I am sure I shall either re ceive what I ask, or what I should ask." " I never loved those salamanders that are never well but when they are in the fire of contention. I will rather suffer a thousand wrongs than offer one : I will suffer a hundred, rather than return one : I will suffer many ere I complain of one, and en deavour to right it by contending. I have ever found that to strive with my superior is furious ; with my equal, doubtful ; with my inferior, sordid and base ; with any, full of unquietness." *' Sudden extremity is a notable trial of faith. The faithful, more quickly than any casualty, can lift up "his heart to his stay in heaven : whereas the worldling stands amazed and distraught with the evil, because he hath no refuge to fly unto. When, therefore, some sudden stitch girds me in the side, like to be the messenger of death ; or when the sword of my enemy, in an unexpected assault, threatens my body ; I will seriously note how I am affected: so the suddenest evil, as it shall not come un looked-for, shall not go away unthought of. If I find myself courageous and heavenly- minded, I will rejoice in the truth of God's grace in me ; knowing that one drachm of tried faith is worth a whole pound of speculative; and that which once stood by me will never fail me. If dejected and heartless, herein I will acknowledge cause of humi liation, and with all care and diligence seek to store myself against the danger following.' xviii LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. " I wiil be ever doing something, that either God when he cometh, or Satan when he tempteth, may find me busied." " Each day is a new life, and an abridgment of the whole. I will so live, as if I counted every day my first and my last ; as if I began to live but then, and should live no more afterwards." " Rareness causes wonder. If the sun should arise but once on the earth, I doubt every man would be a Persian, and fall down and worship it." " The proud man hath no God; the envious man hath no neighbour; the angry man hath not himself." " I observe three seasons wherein a wise man differs not from a fool : in his in fancy, in sleep, and in silence; for in the two former we are all fools, and in silence all are wise. Surely, he is not a fool that hath unwise thoughts, but he that utters them. Even concealed folly is wisdom, and sometimes wisdom uttered is folly. While others care how to speak, my care shall be how to hold my peace." " Extremity distinguished friends. Worldly pleasures, like physicians, give us over when once we lie a-dying ; and yet the deathbed had most need of comforts. Christ Jesus standeth by his in the pangs of death, and after death at the bar of judgment, not leaving them either in their bed or in their grave." The living at Halsted was small, and, notwithstanding the moderate desires ofthe incumbent, so inadequate that he was forced " to write books to buy books.'' He ap plied to the patron for an augmentation often pounds per annum — a demand in itself not exorbitant, and only just, when it is remembered that Sir Robert Drury, by an abuse of power then frequent, was appropriating to his own uses a portion of the minister's emoluments. Sir Robert's refusal to comply with Mr. Hall's request, pre pared him to accept any preferment that might be offered him. And he soon had more than he desired. For during a visit to London he was sought out by a friend, who came to tell him the high acceptance which his Meditations had obtained at the court of Prince Henry, and to urge him to embrace an opportunity of preaching before his Highness. Mr. Hall was then confined to his lodgings in Drury Lane by a severe cold. " I strongly pleaded my indisposition of body, and my inpreparation for any such work, together with my bashful fears, and utter unfitness for such a presence. My averseness doubled his importunity ; in fine, he left me not till he had my engage ment to preach the Sunday following at Richmond. He made way for me to that awful pulpit, and encouraged me by the favour of .his noble lord the Earl of Essex. I preached : through the favour of my God, that sermon was not so well given as taken ; insomuch as that sweet prince /signified his desire to hear me again the Tues day following ; which done, that labour gave more contentment than the former, so as that prince both gave me his hand, and commanded me to his service. My patron seeing me, upon my return to London, looked after by some great persons, began to wish me at home, and told me that some or other would be snatching me up. i an swered, it was in his power to prevent : Would he be pleased to make my mainte-. nance but so competent as in right it should be, I would never stir from him. Instead of condescending, it pleased him to fall into an expostulation of the rate of compe tencies, affirming the variableness thereof according to our own estimation, and our either raising or moderating the causes of our expenses. I showed him the insufficiency of my means ; but a harsh and unpleasing answer so disheartened me", that I resolved to embrace the first opportunity of my remove. " Now whilst I was taken up with these anxious thoughts, a messenger came to me from my Lord Denny, my after most honourable patron, entreating me from his Lordship to speak with him. No sooner came I thither, than after a glad and noble welcome, I was entertained with the earnest offer of Waltham. The conditions were, like the mover of them, free and bountiful. I received them as from the munificent hand of my God; and returned full of the cheerful acknowledgments of a gracious pro- LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xix vidence over me. Too late now did my former noble patron relent, and offer me those terms which had before fastened me for ever. I returned home happy in a now master, and in a new patron ; betwixt whom I divided myself and my labours, with much comfort, and no less acceptation. " In the second year of mine attendance on his highness, when I came for my dis mission from that monthly service, it pleased the prince to command me a longer stay ; and at last upon mine allowed departure, by the mouth of Sir Thomas Challoner, his governor, to tender unto me a motion of more honour and favour than I was worthy of; which was, that it was his highness' pleasure and purpose to have me continually resident at the court as a constant attendant, whilst the rest held on their wonted vicis situdes ; for which purpose his highness would obtain for me such preferments as should yield mefull contentment. I returned my humblest thanks, and my readiness to sa crifice myself to the service of so gracious a master ; but being conscious to myself of my unans werableness to so great expectation, and loath to forsake so dear and noble a patron, who had placed much of his heart upon me, I did modestly put it off, and held close to my Waltham; where in a constant course I preached a long time (as I had done also at Halsted before) thrice in the week ; yet never durst I climb into the pulpit to preach any sermon, whereof I had not before, in my poor and plain fashion, penned every word in the same order wherein I hoped to deliver it, although in the expression I listed not to be a slave to syllables." His attendance at court did not long detain him from the undivided performance of his pastoral duties at Waltham ; for the hopes of the nation were quickly prostrated by the death of the amiable prince, which occurred Nov. 6, 1612; and on the first day of the following year Mr. Hall discharged the last office of a love which had supplanted the deference of the courtier, by preaching a farewell sermon to the prince's house hold, then dissolved at St. James's. The discourse contains repeated testimonies of the grateful and affectionate admiration with which the chaplain cherished the memory of his illustrious patron — testimonies which royal station has seldom so justly merited. But history has recorded the engaging character of King James's eldest son so full)', as to supersede any extracts from this ardent eulogy. The closing sentences, however, possess a pathos and an appropriateness to the text (Rev. xxi. 3) which will justify their insertion here: — " But what if we shall meet here no more? — what if we shall no more see one another's face ? Brethren, we shall once meet together above ; we shall once see the glorious face of God, and never look off again. Let it not over- grieve us to leave these tabernacles of stone, since we must shortly lay down these tabernacles of clay, and enter into tabernacles not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Till then, farewell, my dear brethren, farewell in the Lord. Go in peace, and live as those that have lost such a master, and as those that serve a Master whom they cannot lose. And the God of peace go with you, and prosper you in all your ways, and so fix this tabernacle in you upon earth, that you may be received into those tabernacles of the New Jerusalem, and dwell with him for ever in that glory which he hath provided for all that love him. Amen." The sixteen years which Mr. Hall spent at Waltham were among the most plea sant of his life, for they were the least distracted. His circumstances freed him from worldly solicitudes; the national convulsions which agitated his old age, of which he was sometimes the sorrowful witness, and sometimes the unoffending victim, had not commenced ; his home was the shining abode of that happiness, a beam of which occa sionally brightens upon his pages ; and in that home no apartment was more loved or frequented than his study. What Hall has already described, no other should attempt to tell; and we do not believe that any reader ever complained of the length of the following letter, which gives in brief the distribution of this good man's time for many years together. It will possess an additional value to those whose distinguished pre rogative hap placed them in situations of like advantage:—. xx LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. " Every day is a little life, and our whole life is but a day repeated : whence it is that old Jacob numbered his life by days, and Moses desired to be taught this point of holy arithmetic, to number not his years but his days. Those, therefore, that dare lose a day are dangerously prodigal, those that dare misspend it desperate. All days are his who gave time a beginning and continuance; yet some he hath made ours, not to command but to use. In none may we forget him : in some we must forget all besides him. First, therefore, I desire to awake at those hours, not when I will, but when I must: pleasure is not a fit rule for rest, but health; neither do I consult so much with the sun, as with mine own necessity, whether of body or in that of the mind. If this vassal could well serve mewaking, it should never sleep; but now it must be pleased that it may be serviceable. Now, when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God ; my first thoughts are for Him who hath made the night for rest, and the day for travail; and as he gives, so blesses both. If my heart be early seasoned with his presence, it will savour of him all day after. While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect, my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task, bethinking what is to be done, and in what order, and marshalling (as it may) my hours with my work. That done, after. some while's meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books ; and sitting down amongst them with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them, till I have first looked up to heaven, and craved favour of Him to whom all my studies are duly referred ; without whom I can neither profit nor labour. After this, out of no great variety, I call forth, those which may best fit my occasions, wherein I am not too scrupulous of age. Sometimes I put myself to school to one of those ancients whom the Church hath honoured with the name of Fathers, whose volumes I confess not to open without a secret reverence of their holiness and gra vity; sometimes to those later Doctors, who want nothing but age to make them classical ; always to God's book. That day is lost, whereof some hours are not im proved in those divine monuments: others I turn over out of choice, these out of duty. Ere I can have sate 'unto weariness, my family, having now overcome all household distractions, invite me to our common devotions; not without some short preparation. These, heartily performed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work, which I find made easy to me by intermission and variety. Now, therefore, can I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while my eyes are busied, another while my hand, and sometimes my mind takes the burden from them both. One hour is spent in textual divinity, another in contro versy ; histories relieve them both. Now, when my mind is weary of others' labours, it begins to undertake its own : sometimes it meditates, and winds up for future use; sometimes it Jays forth its conceits into present discourse, sometimes for itself, often for others. Neither know I whether it works or plays in these thoughts ; I am sure no sport hath more pleasure, no work more use. Only the decay of a weak body makes me think these delights insensibly laborious. Thus could I all day (as ringers use) make myself music with changes, were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still in' the midst of my busy pleasures, and enforces me both to respite and repast. I must yield to both; while my body and mind are joined together in these unequal couples, the better must follow the weaker. Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let myself loose from all thoughts, and now would forget that I ever studied. A full mind takes away the body's appetite, no less than a. full body makes a dull and un wieldy mind. Company, discourse, recreations, are now seasonable and welcome. These prepare me for a diet, not gluttonous but medicinal. The palate may not be pleased, but the stomach, nor that for its own sake ; neither would I think any of these comforts worth respect in themselves, but in their use, in their end, so far as they may enable me to better things. If I see any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a serpent in that apple, and would please myself by a wilful denial. 1 rise capable of LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xxi more, not desirous ; not now immediately from my trencher to my book, but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a sure help to all proceedings ; where those things which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour or desire, either succeed not, or continue not. *' After my later meal, my thoughts are slight: only my memory may be charged with her task of recalling what was committed to her custody in the day; and my heart is busy in examining my hands and mouth, and all other senses, of that day's behaviour. And now the evening is come, no tradesman doth more carefully take in his wares, clear his shop-board, and shut his windows, than I would shut up my thoughts and clear my mind. That student shall live miserably, who, like a camel, lies down under his burden. All this done, calling together my family, we end the day with God. How miserable is the condition of those men who spend the time as if it were given them, and not lent ! as if hours were waste creatures, and such as should never be accounted for ! as if God would take this for a good bill of reckoning, Item, spent upon my pleasures, 40 years! " Such are my common days; but God's day calls for another respect. The same sun arises on this day, and enlightens it: yet, because the Sun of righteousness arose upon it, and gave a new life to the world in it, and drew the strength of God's moral precept unto it ; therefore justly do we sing with the Psalmist, ' This is the day which the Lord hath made.' Now 1 forget the world, and in a sort myself; and deal with my wonted thoughts, as great men use, who at some times of their privacy, forbid the access of all suitors. Prayer, meditation, reading, hearing, preaching, singing, good conference, are the business of this day, which I dare not bestow on any work or pleasure, but heavenly. I hate superstition on the one side, and looseness on the other; but I find it hard to offend in too much devotion, easy in profaneness. The whole week is sanctified by this day ; and according to my care of this day, is my blessing on the rest.'' So intent was he on these beloved employments that, to secure leisure for study, he is said * to^have restricted himself at one time to a single meal in the day. He was not a solitary instance of the like abstinence among his contemporaries. But that he was not criminally negligent of his health may be inferred from various circumstances. He wisely imitated Isaac, " who went out in the evening to meditate." f And not only did he from time to time indulge himself with " his other soul," music; but like many other worthies formed for patient contemplation, he occasionally took down the angle, and by the river side pursued the calling symbolical of his own. To the re monstrances of a considerate friend he answers — " Fear not my immoderate studies. I have a body that controls me enough in these courses ; my friends need not. There is nothing whereof I could sooner surfeit, if I durst neglect my body to satisfy my mind ; but while I affect knowledge, my weakness checks me, and says, ' Better a little learn ing, than no health.' I yield, and patiently abide myself debarred of my chosen felicity." The quiet tenor of his life at Waltham was thrice interrupted by a call from his Majesty, to bear a part in undertakings of public interest. The first was in 1616, when he went to France to grace the splendid retinue of the British ambassador, Viscount Doncaster. Had the festivities of that brilliant occasion possessed any at tractions for our sober-minded theologian, he was effectually precluded from enjoying them by a dangerous sickness, which overtook him soon after his arrival, and lasted with his stay. When the time arrived for the return of the ambassador, he was kindly invited by the illustrious Du Moulin to reside with him till his recovery should be established.' " I thanked him," says Dr. Hall, " but resolved if I could but creep homewards to put myself upon the journey. A litter was provided, but of so little ease, that Simeon's penitential lodging, or a malefactor's stocks, had been less penal. I crawled down from my close chamber into that carriage, ' in which you seemed to me • Lloyd's Memoirs, p. 419. f Art of Divine Meditation, Chap. X. xxii LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. to be conveyed as in a coffin," as Mr. Moulin wrote to me afterward; that misery had I endured in all the long passage from Paris to Dieppe, being left alone to the surly muleteers, had not the providence of my good God brought me to St. German's, upon the very setting out of those coaches, which had staid there upon that morning's entertainment of my lord ambassador. How glad was I that I might change my seat and my company. In the way, beyond all expectation, I began to gather some strength ; whether the fresh air or the desires of my home revived me, so much and so sudden reparation ensued, as was sensible to myself, and seemed strange to others. Being shipped at Dieppe, the sea used us hardly, and after a night and a great part of the day following, sent us back well wind-beaten, to that bleak haven whence we set forth, forcing us to a.more pleasing land-passage, through the coasts of Normandy and Picardy ; towards the end whereof my former complaint returned upon me, and landing with me, accompanied me to and at my long-desired home." On his return, he found that, during his absence, the king had conferred upon him the deanery of Worcester. Early in the following year he was called to accompany his Majesty on his famous expedition into Scotland, for the purpose of establishing Episcopacy.f It was James's fortune to have at his command men whose consciences acquiesced in, whose talents vindicated, and whose worth commended the measures which his vanity suggested, and his obstinacy enforced. The ceremonies, afterwards obnoxiously distinguished as the Five Articles of Perth, were the main cause of the royal pedant's progress into Scotland on this occasion. He did one thing wisely when he took in his train an Episcopalian so sin cere, so learned, and so reasonable as Dr. Hall. His words had more persuasiveness than his master's ordinances ; and though we do not know that he came any speed, the meek ness and earnestness with which he argued the question, were better fitted to overcome the presbyterian prejudices of Scotchmen, than the domineering arrogance of one whose arguments owed all their weight' to his station. He respected the presbyterian ministers, and they recompensed his good opinion with their cordial esteem. His more imperious and less logical brethren envied and misrepresented his reputation. As he says himself—" The great love and respect that I found, both from the'ministers and people, brought me no small envy from some of our own. Upon a commonly re ceived supposition, that his Majesty would have no farther use of his chaplains, after his remove from Edinburgh (forasmuch as the divines of the country, whereof there is great store and worthy choice, were allotted to every station), I easily obtained, through the solicitation of my ever-honoured Lord of Carlisle, to return with him be fore my fellows. No sooner was I gone, than suggestions were made to his Majesty of my over plausible demeanour and doctrine to that already prejudicate people, for which his Majesty, after a gracious acknowledgment of my good service then done, called me upon his return to a favourable and mild account ; not more freely profess ing what informations had been given against me, than his own full satisfaction with my sincere and just answer; as whose excellent wisdom well saw, that such winning carriage of mine could be no hinderance to those his great designs. At the same time his Majesty, having secret notice that a letter was coming to me from Mr. W. Struthers, a reverend and learned divine of Edinburgh, concerning the five points then proposed and urged to the Church of Scotland, was pleased to impose upon me an earnest charge, to give him a full answer in satisfaction to those his modest doubts ; and at large to declare my judgment concerning these required observations, which I speedily performed with so great approbation of his Majesty, that it pleased him to command a transcript thereof, as I was informed, publicly to be read in their most famous university; the effect whereof his Majesty vouchsafed to signify afterwards unto some of my best friends, with allowance beyond my hopes." * In qua videbaris roilii efferri, tanquam in sandapila. + For an account of his Majesty's doings on this occasion, see Calderwood's History, pp. 673, et seq. LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xxiii In 1618, the Synod of Dort assembled to pronounce a judgment on the controver sies introduced by the new sect of Arminians.* As they desired the attendance of divines from the various reformed churches, Dr. Hall was one of four deputed to re present the Church of England. But he had not attended two months, when the deleterious influence of a Dutch atmosphere, and the sleepless nights of a garrison town, reduced his delicate frame to such a state of weakness that he became unfit to give his presence regularly, and came to the reluctant conclusion that he must with draw. Before setting out, he complied with a request of the Synod, and preached before them a sermon in Latin, which he was enabled to do with unexpected vigour, having enjoyed during the previous night his first sound rest after a wakeful fortnight. At first he only retired to the Hague, in the hope that a change of place, and the at tentions which he received in the house of the ambassador, might recruit his exhausted strength; but experiencing no salutary result, he accepted his Majesty's recal. " Re turning by Dort, I sent in my sad farewell to that grave assembly, who by common vote sent to me the president of the Synod, and the assistants, with a respectful and gracious valediction. Neither did the Deputies of my Lords the States neglect to visit me ; and after a noble acknowledgment of more good service from me than I durst own, dismissed me with an honourable retribution, and sent after me a rich medal of gold, the portraiture of the Synod, for a precious monument of their respects to my poor endeavours, who failed not, whilst I was at the Hague, to impart unto them my poor advice concerning the proceeding of that synodical meeting. The difficulties of my return in such weakness were many and great ; wherein, if ever, God manifested his special providence to me, in overruling the cross accidents of that passage, and, after many dangers and despairs, contriving my safe arrival." The gold medal was transmitted to him from the States, through the eminent scholar Daniel Heinsius, and from all the gratifying circumstances attending its presentation, was a memorial which he justly valued. It is conspicuously introduced in his portrait preserved in Emanuel College. Dr. Hall had never occasion to be ashamed of his connexion with the venerable Synod of Dort, notwithstanding the aspersions heaped upon it as soon as its sittings had terminated, and propagated to the present day. Amongst other calumnies, his colleagues were accused of a conspiracy against the Arminians, and of having taken an oath before-hand to vote down the remonstrants. The slander might have refuted itself; but Dr. Hall published a letter which effectually dispelled t, and we are not aware that this falsehood has ever been revived. The errors which this Synod condemned, but did not cure, soon crossed the Ger man Ocean, to divide the churches of Britain. " Sides were taken, and pulpits rang everywhere of these opinions." The pacific spirit of this holy man was wounded, when he heard the watchwords of Arminian controversy passed as freely and angrily in England as they had ever been in Holland. When the convocation of the Church met in 1623, Dr, Hall preached a sermon in Latin before it, of which an English translation by his son is preserved among his other works. Its tone is as conciliatory as might have been anticipated from the known tendencies ofthe author, and its very title is nobly indicative of his designs and feelings, — " Noah's dove bringing an olive of peace to the tossed ark of Christ's church." He laboured in other ways to restore the unity of which he mourned the departure; and published, as " a project of paci fication," some remarks " on the five busy articles,' commonly known by the name of Arminius." In this his mediatory interference met with no better reward than did that of Richard Baxter in a similar controversy a short time after ; for it brought upon him the suspicions of many, and the open hostility of some in either party. As • A full aecount of this famous Synod will be found in Hales's Golden Remains, and in Brandt's History of the Reformation in the Low Countries. But perhaps there is none better than the Articles of the Synod, with a historical preface, translated by the late Mr. Scott of fVston-Sandford, xxiv LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. he calmly remarks, " I was scorched a little with this flame, which I desired to quench." Hitherto Dr. Hall had sustained the lighter responsibilities and easier labours of a parish priest. When he had adventured in controversy, no other necessity was laid upon him than the love which he bore to truth, and concern at beholding the best cause the worst supported. He had enjoyed frequent, if not long, intervals of that contemplative leisure after which his soul habitually thirsted. He was now called to govern a church where his ambition had only been to serve ; but the period of his elevation was one when the office of a bishop was least likely to be courted. His episcopate extended over the most tempestuous period which the English hierarchy has encountered. The vessel was heaving when he was summoned to his post ; and the billow which bore him to the shore was that which swept over the wreck. It was in 1627 that Dr. Hall was consecrated Bishop of Exeter. He had previously declined the see of Gloucester. He entered on this high station aware of the sus picions from many quarters which attended him: " for some that sate at the stern of the Church had him in great jealousy for too much favour of Puritanism." He had early intelligence that certain persons were set as spies to watch over him. However, he formed his resolution, and walked wisely according to its rule. In his diocese he found some who did not comply with the ecclesiastical canons ; but by his prudent and gainly conduct he reclaimed all the refractory, except two who retired from his jurisdiction. What greatly tended to secure harmony within his extensive charge, was the honourable determination which he formed at the outset, and to which he steadily adhered, of never imposing any new orders or rites on his clergy. This, with the full toleration of week-day lectures and extra-canonical services, and the favourable notice which he took of the more diligent among the clergy, secured for his diocese an invi dious pre-eminence over those around it, and brought on him the resentment of his more narrow-minded brethren on the bench, as well as the hostility of the less ex-. emplary within his own cure. At court he was informed against, and "was three several times upon his knees to his Majesty, to answer these great criminations;" inso much that he "plainly told the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, that rather than he would be obnoxious to these slanderous tongues of his misinformers, he would cast up his rochet." The unanimity and attachment of his clergy were his sufficient compen sation for the obloquy which others so unworthily cast upon him. But a doubtful oath imposed in 1640,* and which this conscientious prelate could not tender to his clergy, gave rise to dissensions, through the officious interposition of some strangers. The majority still adhered to him ; but, the firebrands being now scattered, he foresaw a conflagration. In this conjuncture he was the more ready to accept the offer of a translation to Norwich, made to him in the year following (1641), by King Charles. With his promotion to this see he closes his Specialties. " But how I took the Tower in my way ; and how I have been dealt with since my repair hither, I could be lavish in the sad report, ever desiring my good God to enlarge my heart in thankfulness to him, for the sensible experience I have had of his fatherly hand over me, in the deep est of all my afflictions, and to strengthen me for whatsoever other trials he shall be pleased to call me unto ; that being found faithful unto the death, I may obtain that crown of life, which he has ordained for all those that overcome." The value of Bishop Hall's services, and the perils of his situation, will be better understood when it is remembered that Laud was at this time the primate of England. Among the other inflictions of that arbitrary and unprincipled prelate, was the famous " Book of Spirits." This he revived, and required that it should be read from every pulpit in England. Those who resisted were silenced for their puritanism ; but the piety and independence of Hall rescued the clergy of his diocese. And although the archbishop, in the plenitude of his zeal, against evangelical religion, had summoned be- * The synodical or et cetera oath. LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xxv fore the Star Chamber some pious individuals, who had founded lectureships and pur chased impropriations for the supply of destitute parishes, and compelled them, at a prodigious sacrifice, to relinquish their scheme, Bishop Hall had the intrepidity to protect within his bounds the obnoxious lecturers. His moderation, however, did not save him from the storm which at this time burst after long threatening, and carried the episcopal order before it. The circumstance which implicated him was, at the worst, an act of unadvisedness. When the Parlia ment met towards the close of 1641, the popular indignation against the bishops had risen so high, that the House of Lords was beset by an armed mob of many thousands, who, by the cry of " No bishops !" gave unequivocal indications of their object. Such of the order as happened to be present, including the Archbishop of York and the subject of this memoir, felt that their lives were in jeopardy, and escaped with diffi culty to their homes ; — some under the protection of the Earl of Manchester, others by secret and circuitous routes, and the rest by remaining till the night was far ad vanced. Having been so narrowly rescued, the bishops felt no inclination to expose themselves again to similar danger, and were induced to sign a document prepared by the Archbishop of York, petitioning the King and Parliament to guarantee their safety in attending on their legislative duties, and protesting against all enactments which might pass during their absence. This protest was instantly laid hold of by their enemies as a most unconstitutional and treasonable declaration, and made the ground of an impeachment against the twelve who had signed it. " We poor souls," says Hall, " who little thought that we had done anything that might deserve a chiding, are now called to our knees at the bar, and charged severally with high treason, being not a little astonished at the suddenness of this crimination, compared with the perfect innocency of our own intentions. But now traitors we are in all haste, and must be dealt with accordingly. For on January 30, (1642), in all the extremity of frost, at eight o'clock in the dark evening, are we voted to the Tower; only two of our number had the favour of the black rod by reason of their age, which though desired by a noble lord on my behalf, would not be yielded : wherein I acknowledge and bless the gracious providence of God ; for had I been gratified, I had been undone both in body and purse, the rooms being strait, and the expense beyond the reach of my estate. The news of our crime and imprisonment soon flew over the city, and was entertained by our well-wishers with ringing of bells and bonfires ; who now gave us up (not without great triumph) for lost men, railing on our perfidiousness, and adjudging us to what foul deaths they pleased." At this time of surprise and peril, with the exultations of his enemies ringing in his ears, and an impeachment for his life hanging over him, Bishop Hall addressed a letter to a private friend, so full of the noble sentiments and indignant utterance which con scious rectitude inspires, in harmony with Christian humility, that we regret being compelled to give only extracts : — " My intentions and this place are such strangers, that I cannot enough marvel how they met. But, howsoever, I do in all humility kiss the rod wherewith I smart, as well knowing whose hand it is that wields it. To that infinite justice who can be innocent? but to my. king and country never heart was, or can be more clear; and I shall beshrew my hand if it shall have (against my thoughts) justly offended either ; and if either say so, I reply not ; as having learned not to contest with those that can command legions. " You tell me in what fair terms I stood not long since with the world ; how large room I had in the hearts of the best men : but can you tell me how I lost it ? Truly I have in the presence of God narrowly searched my own bosom ; I have impartially ransacked this fag-end of my life, and curiously examined every step of my ways; and I cannot, by the most exact scrutiny of my saddest thoughts, find what it is that I have done to forfeit that good estimation wherewith you say I was once blessed. xxvi LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. " Can my enemies say, that I bore up the reins of government too hard, and ex ercised my jurisdiction in a rigorous and tyrannical way, insolently lording it over my charge ? Malice itself, perhaps, would, but dare not speak it ; or if it should, the attestation of so numerous and grave a clergy would choke such impudence. Let them witness whether they were not still entertained, with an equal return of reve rence, as if they had been all bishops with me, or I only a presbyter with them. Let them say whether aught here looked despotical, or sounded rather of imperious com mand than of brotherly complying ; whether I have not rather from some beholders undergone the censure of a too humble remissness, as stooping too low beneath the eminence of episcopal dignity ; whether I have not suffered as much in some opinions, for the winning mildness of my administration, as some others for a rough severity. " Can they say that I barred the free course of religious exercises, by the suppres* sion of painful and peaceable preachers? If shame will suffer any man to object it, let me challenge him to instance but in one hand. Nay, the contrary is so famously known in the western parts, that every mouth will herein justify me. What free ad mission and encouragement have I always given to all the sons of peace, that came with God's message in their mouths ! What mis-suggestions have I waved ! How have I often and publicly professed, that as well might we complain of too many stars in the sky, as too many orthodox preachers in the church ! " Can they' challenge me as a close and back-stair friend to Popery or Arminianism, who have in so many pulpits, and so many presses, cried down both? Surely the very paper that I have spent in the refutation of both these, is enough to stop more mouths than can be guilty of this calumny. " Lastly, since no man can offer to upbraid me with too much pomp, which is wont to be the common eye-sore of our envied profession, can any man pretend to a ground of taxing me of too much worldliness? Surely, of all the vices forbidden in the decalogue, there is no one which my heart, upon due examination can less fasten upon me than this. He that made it, knows that he hath put into it a true disregard (save only for necessary use) of the world, and all that it can boast of, whether for profit, pleasure, or glory. No, no; I know the world too well to doat upon it. It were too great a shame for a philosopher, a. Christian, a divine, a bishop, to have his . thoughts grovelling here upon earth ; for mine, they scorn the employment, and look upon all these sublunary distractions with no other eyes than contempt. " To shut up all, and to surcease your trouble, I write not this as one that would pump for favour and reputation from the disaffected multitude (for I charge you that what passes privately betwixt us may not fall under common eyes), but only with this desire and intention, to give you true grounds, when you shall hear my name mentioned with a causeless offence, to yield me a just and charitable vindication. Go you on still to do the office of a true friend, yea, the duty of a just man; in speaking in the cause of the dumb, in righting the innocent, in rectifying the misguided ; and lastly, the service of a faithful and christian patriot, in helping the times with the best of your prayers, which is the daily task of }'our much devoted and thankful friend, — Jos. Non vie." After a bill had passed both Houses, and obtained the royal assent, for depriving the bishops of their seats in parliament, the Commons proceeded to impeach the twelve who had signed the protestation, at the bar of the Lords, on a charge of high treason. But finding that there was no likelihood of obtaining a conviction of a crime so serious, they assumed a lower ground. A bill was introduced and passed by both Houses, declaring the bishops delinquents of a high nature, depriving them of their ecclesiastical authority, and assigning to each a stated yearly maintenance. The bishops were then released, on giving bond to a great amount. It was in the month of June that Bishop Hall found himself once more at large, after a confinement of five months. During this time he had not been idle. For be* LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xxvii sides taking his rotation with his brethren in preaching on the Lord's day, and corre sponding with his friends, he wrote his work entitled, " The Free Prisoner." On his release, he instantly repaired to Norwich, the seat of his new bishopric, and was re ceived with more respect than he anticipated from the temper of the times. He preached on the Sabbath following his arrival to a crowded audience, and continued his services unmolested till the month of March following (1643). The ordinance of sequestration was then issued, and the commissioners of Parliament came to inform the Bishop that he must abandon his palace, and that they were required to seize on all his estate, real and personal. They went to the extent of their warrant, " not leaving so much as a dozen of trenchers, or his children's pictures, out of their curious inventory." But before the time fixed for the public sale of his goods arrived, a pious lady, unknown to the Bishop, redeemed his furniture, until he should be able to re purchase it; and a benevolent divine of his diocese rendered an additional service, by paying the estimated value of his library. Being now deprived of every source of in come, he applied to the committee on sequestrations for the annuity granted by Par liament ; but he was told that an order had come down inhibiting any such allowance. In answer, however, to a petition from his wife, a smaller yearly payment was assigned to her ; though, by a most unrighteous exaction, out of this scanty fund the Bishop had to defray assessments and monthly payments for lands which were no longer his. At last, after his endurance had been sorely tried, by witnessing the defacing of his cathe dra], and the demolition of its splendid organ, he was ejected from the palace, which his straitened means rendered no longer a suitable habitation. A generous neighbour relinquished his house for the accommodation ofthe Bishop and his family, where he only remained till he procured the lease of a small property at Higham, in the neigh bourhood of Norwich. Of his subsequent life, spent in retirement and without molestation, we know little ; but that little is enough to prove that its latter end was worthy of its beginning. He continued to preach until his infirmities and legal prohibitions had disabled him. Then " as oft and long as he was able, this learned Gamaliel was not only content, but very diligent to sit at the feet of the youngest of his disciples, as diligent a hearer as he had been a preacher." After the death of Charles I. he continued to observe with his family a weekly fast because of it. Though his fortune was so greatly reduced, a number of poor widows were his weekly pensioners. In 1652 he lost his wife, and then he wrote a. tract, almost his last, entitled, " Songs in the Night." From this interesting memorial we see how this grey-headed saint went down to his grave " sor rowing yet rejoicing." " Have I lost my goods and foregone a fair estate? Had all the earth been mine, what is it to heaven ? Had I been the lord of all the world, what were this to a kingdom of glory? " Have I parted with a dear consort; the sweet companion of my youth; the ten der nurse of my age; the partner of my sorrows for these forty-eight years? She is but stept a little before me to that happy rest, which I am panting towards, and wherein I shall speedily overtake her. In the meantime and ever, my soul is espoused to that glorious and immortal Husband from whom it shall never be parted. " Am I bereaved of some of my dear children, the sweet pledges of our matrimo nial love; whose parts and hopes promised me comfort in my declined age? Why am I not rather thankful it hath pleased my God, out of my loins, to furnish heaven with some happy guests? Why do I not, instead of mourning for their loss, sing praises to God for preferring them to that eternal blessedness ? " Am I afflicted with bodily pains and sickness, which banishes all sleep from my eyes, and exercises me with a lingering torture? Ere long this momentary distemper shall end in an everlasting rest." And so it was ; for though his painful malady was prolonged for four years more, they will appear but a " moment" now. The grace which enabled him to overcome at last, xxviii LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. strengthened him to bear throughout. One who saw has recorded, that " though sorely afflicted with bodily diseases, he bore them all with as much patience as hath been seen in any flesh, except that of the Saviour." And when his time drew near, many of the noble, and learned, and pious, gathered to his chamber to implore his dying prayers, and bear away his dying benediction. After much time spent in devo tion, and many words of gracious exhortation, he summoned the expiring energies of nature to make the last confession of his faith ; and when so engaged, his strength departed, the agonies of death came over him, and then he fell asleep. He died on the 8th of September 1656, when he had reached his 82d year. His will assigned the churchyard as his burying place ; adding as his reason, " I do not hold God's house a meet repository for the dead bodies of the greatest saints." He bequeathed .£30 to each widow in the village where he was born, and in that where he died. Here our sketch should have ended. But on looking back, we feel conscious of an involuntary injury to the memory of this great man, in having presented, even with his own assistance, a view of his character so exclusively external. We are aware that publications, parochial and diocesan cares, the business of the nation, the defence of orthodoxy, journeys of observation or of diplomacy — in short, that the whole busy work of existence formed but in part the life of Bishop Hall. His was eminently a life OF CONTEMPLATION. He fell upon a time when the Church of England contained many men whose ge nius and piety would have immortalized and sainted them in an earlier age. With a theology less accurate and a devotion less enlightened than signalized their puritan successors, and with a piety less strenuous and sanguine than that which poured in animation through the stern and athletic orthodoxy of our covenanting fathers, a jealous sincerity, a serene quietism, and an unflinching self-denial, were the command ing characteristics of their religion, which made it awful and interesting to others, and safe for themselves. It wanted in the activity of life and the diffusiveness of Christi anity. It was introverted, not aggressive. It mused and soliloquized. It was mo nastic, and dwelt alone. It was more amiable in its forbearance, than meritorious for its services. In its narrow channel it flowed deep, but it seldom overflowed. The idolatry of one party has injured them with another; but the day is coming that will restore to each his own. In its first outburst, the noise of faction will overwhelm the voice of piety, still and small, but it cannot last so long. And now that the ran cour of raging polemics is settling down into forgetfulness, the memorial and the works of these excellent of the earth are reviving, and posterity, more just to them than they were to themselves, is admitting the claims of either party to attributes of worth which they could not discern in one another. For ourselves, with leanings all away from prelacy, we would commemorate with as much alacrity as we have felt delight in contemplating the singular devotion and exalted genius which distinguished many a high churchman of the first Charles's reign — the exemplars of an age only moving regret by the contrasted littleness of our own. To specify all the instances would not be easy ; and it is hard to select a few. But there was George Herbert, the gentle, the elegant — majestically humble, gravely gay — as antithetic in his character as in his own quaint poesy passing no week with out music, and no day without showing mercy — converting life into one Sabbath, , and fulfilling his invocation to that sacred day, when it and he " flew hand in hand to heaven." Jeremy Taylor, too, soaring in ether with a load of learning which would have kept another grovelling — now casting a look of hope to the ancient models, anon dashed by the contemplation of his own ideal — beside the waters of Lough Neagh, musing on the mysterious tower of its romantic island, and its more mysterious antiquity, till his "thoughts wandered through eternity ;" or amid the ruins of its monastery listening for the reviving echoes of its wonted orisons, until his dreaming LIFE OF BISHOP HALL. xxfft fancy beheld in the evening light of autumn its tapers rekindled, and in the falling shadows marshalled anew the sacerdotal procession — an imagination revelling in all the picturesque and sublime of religion, and a heart responding with harmonious im pulse to its loftiest requirements. There was Nicholas Ferrar — the Church-of-Eng- land man — closing his eyes on propitious fortune and radiant beauty, and that nothing earthly might distract his gaze, and no rest short of heaven allure his sense, immured in a protestant convent — meting to himself scanty slumbers on the hard pillow of an anchoret — with his goods feeding all the needy except himself, and indulging no luxury save the midnight music of the choristers whom he retained to " praise God nightly" in the oratory of Little Gidding. And Henry Hammond, economizing his time by the abundance of his prayers, and increasing his wealth by the wise muni ficence of his charities — living for his friends, reducing kindness to a law, and welcom ing the interruption which called for its exercise — amidst bodily sufferings, producing works of research and judgment, demanding but sufficient to destroy the most vigorous health — "omnejam tulerat punctum, cum Mors, quasi suum adjiciens calculum, terris abstulit." Among these and many more,* almost as ascetic in his life, but above them all in the largeness of his views and the soundness of his creed, we recognise the gifted author ofthe following " Contemplations.'' The " art of heavenly meditation,'' was that which he had chiefly studied. Even among his contemporaries, there were few who combined such density of expression with such amplitude of thought — few who had studied the Fathers so diligently, and who could command them so readily — few who had drunk so deeply the classic in spiration — few who had entered into the meaning of Scripture, with the same spirit of quick apprehension and thorough appreciation — and fewer still who had learned to dwell so much on high. The spirit that taught the prophets to speak, taught him to understand. In his company we feel that we are not attended by a perfunctory and hireling guide — but by one whose profession is his passion, whose familiarity with sacred things is reverential — whose insight is the result of love and long acquain tance. He was a man of peace, and delighted in the retirement without which it is seldom enjoyed. " The court is for honour, the city for gain, the country for quietness ; a blessing that need not, in the judgment of the wisest, yield to the other two. Yea, how many have we known that having nothing but a coat of thatch to hide them from heaven, yet have pitied the careful pomp of the mighty? How much more may they who have full hands and quiet hearts pity them both?" " What a heaven," as he elsewhere exclaims, " lives a scholar in, that at once in one close room can daily converse with all the glorious martyrs and fathers ! — that can single out at plea sure, either sententious Tertullian, or grave Cyprian, or learned Jerome, or flowing Chrysostom, or divine Ambrose, or devout Bernard, — or who alone is all these — hea- yenly Augustin, and talk with them, and hear their wise and holy counsels, verdicts, resolutions : yea, to rise higher, with courtly Isaiah, with learned Paul, with all their fellow-prophets, apostles : yet more, like another Moses, with God himself!" In such retirement passed the chosen hours of our author, and refreshed by such converse he penned his Contemplations. More sweet than odours caught by him who sails Near spicy shores of Araby the blest, A thousand times more exquisitely sweet, The freight of holy feeling which we meet, In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gale From fields where good men walk, or bowers wherein they rest." + • See Walton's Life of Herbert — Heher's Life of Taylor — Peckard's Life of Ferrar— and Fell's Life of Hammond. For others of the same period, the reader is referred to Lloyd's Me moirs, Walton's Lives, and Dr. C. Wordsworth's interesting collection of " Ecclesiastical Biography." •f- Wordsworth. xxx LIFE OF BISHOP HALL, The Work now laid before him, the reader will find richly freighted with this " holy feeling;" Its value does not consist alone nor chiefly in the acute expositions of Scrip ture incidentally introduced — in the descriptive vivacity which paints the Bible scenes to the eye of fancy, or enacts its history anew — in the apothegmatical naivete, which deals out so calmly yet so pointedly the eager observations of a penetrating eye, on the various wisdom and folly, virtues and vices, with which a long life had made him familiar. Nor is it only in the ardent enforcement of Christian duty, and eloquent statement of Christian privilege, that this book bespeaks the attention of the serious reader. It presents in one view the Bible, and a mind rich in feeling and accom plishments, lovingly exploring and reverently interpreting the Bible; nay, as it were, fraternizing and amalgamating with it. These Contemplations will not be read with advantage by one who peruses them as a common book, as hastily and as uncon cerned ; nor will they be read aright without adverting continually to the peculiar mode of their execution, to their author and their end. In the former particular, they closely resemble the Confessions of his favourite Augustin, consisting of reflec tions and ejaculations, so mingled as to blend devotion with instruction. The author, whom we have already attempted to pourtray, recurs to our imagination as the gentle, self-denied, and benignant parish priest, whom his neighbours met and eyed reveren tially as he took his stated evening walk, cheerful at times, but oftener pensive, in the fields near Waltham parsonage — a man of that calm resolution and ardent faith, Which could at any warning have followed the Saviour whom he loved to prison and to death, and whose aspirations often soared so high as to forget the Meshech where he sojourned. And the end will be answered, if we who read them, learn for our selves to live the same divine life, and acquire the same skill in heavenly meditation — an art little esteemed and less practised in an age which would not be too busy if it thought as much as it toils ; and an art concerning which a great proficient* has left a testimony which may compensate for our omissions, and form the appropriate introduction to the work that follows. " Be acquainted with this heavenly work, and thou wilt in some degree be ac quainted with God ; thy joys will be spiritual, prevalent, and lasting, according, to the nature of their blessed object ; thou wilt have comfort in life and death : when thou hast neither wealth, nor health, nor the pleasure of this world, yet wilt thou have comfort : without the presence or help of any friend, without a minister, without a book, when all means are denied thee, or taken from thee, yet mayest thou have vigorous, real comfort. Thy graces will be mighty, active, and victorious ; and daily joy, which is thus fetched from heaven, will be thy strength. Thou wilt be as one that stands on the top of an exceeding high mountain ; he looks down on the world as if it were quite below him — fields and woods, cities and towns, seem to him but little spots. Thus despicably wilt thou look on all things here below. The greatest princes will seem but as grasshoppers ; the busy, contentious, covetous world, but as a heap of ants. Men's threatenings will be no terror to thee, nor the honours of this world auy strong enticement : temptations will be more harmless, as having lost their strength ; and afflictions less grievous as having lost their sting ; and every mercy will he better known, and better relished." * Baxter. CONTEMPLATIONS. BOOK I. CONTEMPLATION I THE CREATION. What can I see, O God, in thy creation, but miracles of wonders ? Thou madest something of nothing, and of that something all things. Thou, which wast without a beginning, gavest a beginning to time, and to the world in time. It is the praise of us men, if, when we have matter, we can give fashion : thou gavest a being to the matter, without form ; thou gavest a form to that matter, and a glory to that form. If we can finish but a slight and imperfect matter according to a former pattern, it is the height of our skill : but to begin that which never was, whereof there was no example, whereto there was no inclination, wherein there was no possibility of that which it should be, is proper only to such power as thine : the infinite power of an infinite Creator I With us, not so much as a thought can arise without some matter ; but here, with thee, all matter arises from nothing. How easy is it for thee to repair all out of something, which couldst thus fetch all out of nothing ! Wherein can we now distrust thee, that hast proved thyself thus omnipotent ? Behold, to have made the least clod of nothing, is more above wonder, than to multiply a, world ! But now the matter doth not more praise thy power, than the form thy wisdom. What beauty is here ! what order ! What order in working ! what beauty in the work ! Thou mightest have made all the world perfect in an instant, but thou wouldst not. That will, which caused thee to create, is reason enough why thou didst thus create. How should we deliberate in our actions, which are so subject to imperfection ; since it pleased thine infinite perfection (not out of need) to take leisure ? Neither did thy ¦ wisdom herein proceed in time only, but in degrees : at first thou madest nothing absolute ; first, thou madest things which should have being without life ; then, those which should have life and being ; lastly, those which have being, life, reason : So- we ourselves, in the ordinary course of generation, first live the life of vegetation, then of sense ; of reason afterwards. That instant wherein the heaven and the earth were created in their rude matter, there was neither day nor light: but presently thou madest both light and day. While we have this example of thine, how vainly do we hope to be perfect at once ! It is well for us, if, through many degrees, we can rise to our consummation. But, alas ! what was the very heaven itself without light ? How confused I how formless ! like to a goodly body without a soul, like a soul without thee. Thou art light, and in thee is no darkness. Oh ! how incomprehensibly glorious is the light that is in thee, since one glimpse of this created light gave so lively a glory to all thy work manship I This even the brute creatures can behold! that, not the very angels, — that shines forth only to the other supreme world of immortality ; this to the basest part of thy creation. There is one cause of our darkness on earth and of the utter dark ness of hell; — the restraint of thy light. Shine thou, O God, into the vast corners of my soul, and in thy light I shall see light. But whence, O God, was that first light? The sun was not made fill the fourth day — light the first. If man had been, he might have seen all lightsome ; but, whence; A THE CREATION. [Book I. it had come, he could not have seen ; as, in some great pond, we see the banks full ; we see not the springs from whence the water ariseth. Thou madest the sun ; madest the light without the sun, before the sun, that so light might depend upon thee, and not upon thy creature. Thy power will not be limited to means. It was easy to thee to make an heaven without sun, light without an heaven, day without a sun, time without a day. It is good reason thou shouldst be the Lord of thine own works. All means serve thee : why do we, weak wretches, distrust thee, in the want of those means which thou canst either command or forbear ? How plainly wouldst thou teach us, that we creatures need not one another, so long as we have thee ! One day we shall have light again without the sun : Thou shalt be our sun : thy presence shall he our light : " Light is sown for the righteous." The sun and light is but for the world below itself: thine only for above. Thou givest this light to the sun, which the sun gives to the world : that light which thou shalt once give us, shall make us shine like the sun in glory. Now this light, which for three days was thus dispersed through the whole heavens, it pleased thee, at last, to gather and unite into one body of the sun. The whole heaven was our sun, before the sun was created: but now one star must be the treasury of light to the heaven and earth. | How thou lovest the union and reduction ' of all things of one kind to their own head and centre I so the waters must, by thy command, be gathered into one place, the sea : so the upper waters must be severed by these airy limits from the lower: so heavy substances hasten downward, and light mount up : so the general light of the first days must be called into the compass of one sun : so thou wilt once gather thine elect from all coasts of heaven, to the par ticipation of one glory. Why do we abide our thoughts and affections scattered from thee, from thy saints, from thine anointed ? Oh! let this light, which thou hast now spread abroad in the hearts of all thine, once meet in thee. We are as thy heavens, in this their first imperfection ; be thou our sun, unto which our light may be gathered. Yet this light was by thee interchanged with darkness, which thou mightest as easily have commanded to be perpetual. The" continuance, even of the best things, cloyeth and wearieth : there is nothing but thyself, wherein there is not satiety. So pleasing is the vicissitude of things, that the intercourse even of those occurrents, which in their own nature are less worthy, gives more contentment than the unaltered estate of better. The day dies into night, and rises into the morning again, that we might not expect any stability here below, but in perpetual successions. It is always j day with thee above : the night savoureth ! only of mortality. Why are we not here spiritually, as we shall be hereafter ? Since thou hast made us children of the light, and of the day, teach us to .walk ever in the light of thy presence, not in the dark ness of error and unbelief. Now, in this thine enlightened frame, how fitly, how wisely are all the parts dis posed; that the method of the creation might answer the matter and the form both Behold all purity above ; below, the dregs and lees of all. The higher I go, the more perfection ; each element superior to other, not more in place than dignity; that, by these stairs of ascending perfection, our thoughts might climb unto the top of all glory, and might know thine imperial hea ven, no less glorious above the visible than those above the earth . Oh ! how miserable is the place of our pilgrimage, in respect of our home ! Let my soul tread awhile in the steps of thine own proceedings ; and so think as thou wroughtest. When we would describe a man, we begin not at the feet, but the head. The head of thy crea tion is the heaven; how high! how spa cious! how glorious! It is a wonder that We can look up to so admirable a height, and that the very eye is not tired in the way. If this ascending line could be drawn right forwards, some, that have calculated curiously, have found it five hundred years' journey unto the starry heaven. I do not examine their art; O Lord, I wonder ra ther at thine, which hast drawn so large a line about this Jittle point of earth : for, in the plainest rules of art and experience, the compass must needs be six times as much as half the height. We think one island great, but the earth immeasurable. If we were in that heaven, with these eyes, the whole earth (were it equally enlightened) would seem as little to us, as now the least star in the firmament seems to us upon earth: and, indeed, how few stars are so httle as it? And yet, how many void and ample spaces are there beside all the stars s The hugeness of this thy work, 0 God, is little inferior for admiration to the majesty of it. But, oh, what a glorious heaven is this which thou hast spread over our heads! With how precious a vault hast thou walled in this our inferior world! What worlds of Cont. I.] THE CREATION. light hast thou set above us ! Those things which we see are wondrous; but those, which we believe and see not, are yet more. 'Thou dost but set out these unto view, to ^hew us what there is within. How pro portionable are thy works to thyself! Kings erect not cottages, but set forth their mag nificence in sumptuous buildings ; so hast thou done, O King of Glory! If the lowest pavement of that heaven of thine be so glorious, what shrill we think of the better parts yet unseen ? And if this sun of thine be of such brightness and majesty, oh! what is the glory ofthe Maker of it? And yet if some other of thy stars were let down as low as it, those other stars would be suns to us; which now thou hadst rather to have admired in their distance. And if such a sky be prepared for the use and be nefit even of thine enemies also upon earth, how happy shall those eternal tabernacles i be, which thou hast sequestered for thine own? Behold then in this high and stately build ing of thine, I see three stages : this lowest heaven for fowls, for vapours, for meteors : the second for the stars : the third for thine angels and saints. The first is thine out ward court, open for all : the second is the body of thy covered temple, wherein are those candles of heaven perpetually burn ing: the third is thine holy of holies. In the first is tumult and vanity: in the second, i immutability and rest : in the third, glory and blessedness. The first we feel, the second we see, the third we believe. In these two lower is no felicity ; for neither the fowls nor stars are happy. It is the third heaven alone, where thou, O blessed Trinity ! enjoyest thyself, and thy glorified spirits enjoy thee. It is the manifestation of thy glorious presence, that makes heaven to be itself. Tins is the privilege of thy children, that they here, seeing thee (which art invisible) by the eye of faith, have al ready begun that heaven, which the perfect sight of thee shall make perfect above. Let my soul then let these heavens alone, till it may see as it is seen. That we may de scend to this lowest and meanest region of heaven, wherewith our senses are more ac quainted ; what marvels' do even here meet with us ? There are thy clouds, thy bottles of rain, vessels as thin as the liquor which is contained in them : there they hang and move, though weighty with their burden : how they are upheld, and why they fall, here, and now, we know not, and wonder. Those thou makest one while, as some airy seas, to hold water : another while as some airy furnaces, whence thou scatterest thy sudden fires unto all tne parts of the earth' astonishing the world with the fearful noise of that eruption : out of the midst of water thou fetchest fire, and hard stones out of the midst of thin vapours : another while, as some steel glasses, wherein the sun looks, and shews his face in the variety of those colours which he hath not ; there are thy streams of light, blazing and falling stars, fires darted up and down in many forms, hollow openings, and (as it were) gulfs in the sky, bright circles about the moon and other planets, snows, hail : in all which it . is enough to admire thine hand, though we cannot search out thine action. There are thy subtile winds, which we hear and feel, yet neither can see their substance, nor know their causes; whence, and whither they pass, and what they are, thou knowest. There are thy fowls of all shapes, colours, notes, natures : whilst I compare these with the inhabitants of that other heaven, I find those stars and spirits like one another: these meteors and fowls, in as many varieties as there are several creatures. Why is this ? Is it because Man (for whose sake these are made) delights in change, thou in con stancy? or is it, that in these thou mayest shew thine own skill, and their imperfec tion ? There is no variety in that which is , perfect, because there is but one perfection r and so much shall we grow nearer to per- fectness, by how much we draw nearer to unity and uniformity. From thence, if we go down to the great deep, the womb of moisture, the well of fountains, the great pond of the world ; we know not whether to wonder at the element itself, or the guests which it contains. How doth that sea of thine roar and foam and swell, as if it would swallow up the earth ? Thou stayest the rage of it by an insensible violence ; and, by a natural miracle, confinest his waves : why it moves, and why it stays, it is to us equally wonderful : what living mountains (such are thy whales) roll up and down in those fearful billows : for greatness of num ber, hugeness of quantity, strangeness of shapes, variety of fashions, neither air nor earth can compare with the waters. I say nothing of thy hid treasures, which thy wisdom hath reposed in the bowels of the earth and sea : how secretly and how basely are they laid up ! secretly, that we might not seek them ; basely, that we might not over-esteem them: I need not dig so low as these metals, miperies, quarries, which yield riches enough of observation to the soul. How many millions of wonders doth the very face of the earth offer me ? Which of these herbs, flowers, trees, leaves, seeds, a 2 fruits, is there ; what beast, what worm, wherein we may not see the footsteps of a Deity, wherein we may not read infinite ness of power, of skill, and must be forced to confess, that he which made the angels and stars of heaven, made also the vermin on the earth? O God, the heart of man is too strait to admire enough even that which he treads upon I What shall we say to thee, the Maker of all these? O Lord, ; how wonderful are thy works in all the world! in wisdom hast thou made them all : and in all these thou spakest, and they were done. Thy will is thy word, and thy i , word is thy deed. Our tongue, and hand, : and heart are different : all are one in thee, ¦which art simply one, and infinite. Here needed no helps, no instruments: what could be present with the Eternal? What needed, or what could be added to the In finite? Thine hand is not shortened, thy ; word is still equally effectual : say thou the I word, and my soul shall be made new again ; say thou the word, and my body shall be repaired from his dust : for all things obey thee. O Lord, why do I not yield to the word of thy counsel ; since I must yield, as all thy creatures, to the word of thy command? CONTEMPLATION II OF MAN. But, O God ! what a. little lord hast thou made over this great world? The least corn of sand is not so small to the whole earth, as man is to the heaven. When I see the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars, O God, what is man ? Who would think thou shouldst make all these creatures for one, and that one well-near the least of all ? Yet none but he can see what thou hast done ; none but be can admire and adore thee in what he seeth : How had he need to do nothing but this, since he alone must do it ! Certainly the price and virtue of things consist not in the quantity : one diamond is worth more than many quarries of stone ; one loadstone hath more virtue than mountains of earth. It is lawful for us to praise thee in our selves. All thy creation hath not more wonder in it, than one of us : other crea tures thou madest by a simple command ; Man, not without a divine consultation ; — others at once ; man thou didst first form, then inspire: — others in several shapes, like to none but themselves ; man, after tliine own image: — others with qualities fit for service ; man, for dominion. Man .had his name from thee ; they had their OF MAN. [Book I. names from man. How should we be con secrated to thee above all others, since thou hast bestowed more cost on us than others ! What shall I admire first? thy providence in the time of our creation ; or thy power and wisdom in the act ? First, thou madest the great house of the world, and furnish- edst it ; then thou broughtest in thy tenant to possess it. The bare walls had been too good for us, but thy love was above our desert : thou, that madest ready the earth for us before we were, hast, by the same mercy, prepared a place in heaven for us, while we are on earth. The stage was first fully prepared, then was man brought forth thither, as an actor, or spec tator, that he might neither be idle nor discontent. Behold, thou hadst addressed an earth for use, an heaven for contempla tion. After thou hadst drawn that large I and real map of the world, thou didst thus ' abridge it into this little table of man : he ' alone consists of heaven and earth, soul ! and body. Even this earthly part, which is vile in comparison of the other, as it is thine, O God, I dare admire it, though I can neglect it as mine own ; for, lo I this heap of earth hath an outward reference to heaven. Other creatures grovel down to their earth, and have all their senses intent upon it ; this is reared up towards heaven, and hath no more power to look beside heaven than to tread beside the earth, Unto this, every part hath his wonder. The head is nearest to heaven, as in place, so in resemblance, both for roundness of figure, and for those divine guests which have their seat in it: There dwell those majestical powers of reason, which make a man ; all the senses, as they have their original from thence, so they do all agree there to manifest their virtue. How goodly proportions hast thou set in the face ! such as, though ofttimes we can give no reason when they please, yet transport us to admiration. What living glasses are those which thou hast placed in the midst of this visage, whereby all objects from far are clearly represented to the mind ! and because their tenderness lies open to dan gers, how hast thou defenced them with hollow bones, and with prominent brows, and lids ! and lest they should be too much bent on what they ought not, thou hast given them peculiar nerves to pull them up towards the seat of their rest. What a tongue hast thou given him ; the instru ment not of taste only, but of speech ! how sweet and excellent voices are formed by that little loose film of flesh ! what an in credible strength hast thou given to the Cont. IL] OF MAN. weak bones of the jaws ! what a comely and tower-like neck, therefore most sinewy because smallest ! and lest I be infinite, what able arms and active hands hast thou framed him, whereby he can frame all things to his own conceit ! In every part, beauty, strength, convenience meet toge ther. Neither is there any whereof our weak ness cannot give reason why it should be no otherwise. How hast thou disposed of all the inward vessels, for all offices of life, nourishment, digestion, generation ! No vein, sinew, artery, is idle. There is no piece in this exquisite frame, whereof the place, use, form, doth not admit wonder, and exceed it. Yet this body, if it be com pared to the soul, what is it, but as a clay wall that encompasses a treasure ; as a wooden box of a jeweller ; as a coarse case to a rich instrument ; or as a mask to a beautiful face ? Man was made last, be cause he was worthiest. The soul was inspired last, because yet more noble. If the body have this honour to be the com panion of the soul, yet withal it is the drudge, If it be the instrument, yet also the clog of that divine part, the companion for life, the drudge for service, the instru ment for action, the clog in respect of con templation. These external works are ef fected by it ; the internal, which are more noble, hindered; contrary to the bird, which sings most in her cage, but flies most and highest at liberty. This my soul teaches me of itself, that itself cannot conceive, how capable, how active it is. It can pass by her nimble thoughts from heaven to earth in a moment : it can be all things, can comprehend all things ; know that which is, and conceive that which never was, never shall be. Nothing can fill it, but thou which art infinite ; nothing can limit it, but thou which art everywhere. O God, which madest it, replenish it, pos sess it, dwell thou in it, which hast ap pointed it to dwell in clay. The body was made of earth common to his fellows ; the soul inspired immediately from God. The body lay senseless upon the earth like it self : the breath of life gave it what it is, and that breath was from thee. Sense, motion, reason, are infused into it at once. From whence then was this quickening breath ? No air, no earth, no water, was here used to give help to this work. Thou that breathedst upon man, and gavest him the Holy Spirit, didst also breathe upon the body, and gavest it a hving spirit. We are beholden to nothing but thee for our soul. , Our flesh is from flesh ; our spirit is from the God of spirits How should our souls rise up to thee, and fix themselves in their thoughts upon thee, who alone created them in their infusion, and infused them in their creation ? How should they long to return back to the fountain of their being, and author of being glorious ? Why may we not say, that this soul, as it came from thee, so it is like thee ? As thou, so it is one, immaterial, immortal, understanding spirit, distinguished into three powers, which all make up one spirit. So thou, the wise Creator of all things, wouldst have some things to resemble their Creator. These other creatures are all body ; man is body and spirit. The angels are all spirit, not without a kind of spiritual composition : thou art alone after thine own manner, simple, glorious, infinite : no creature can be like thee in thy proper being, because it is a. creature. How should our finite, weak, compounded nature, give any perfect resemblance of thine? Yet of all visible creatures, thou vouchsafest man the nearest correspondence to thee : not so much in the natural faculties, as in those divine graces, wherewith thou beautifiest his soul. Our knowledge, holiness, righteousness, was like the first copy from which they were drawn. Behold, we were not more like thee in these, than now we are unlike ourselves in their loss. O God, we now praise ourselves to our shame, for the better we were, we are the worse ; as the sons of some prodigal, or tainted ancestors, tell ofthe lands and lordships which were once theirs. Only do thou whet, our desires, answerably to the readiness of thy mercies, that we may redeem what we have lost ; that we may recover in thee, what we have lost in ourselves. The fault shall be ours, if our damage prove not beneficial. I do not find that man, thus framed, found the want of an helper. . His fruition of God gave him fulness of contentment : the sweetness which he found in the con templation of this new workmanship, and the glory of the Author, did so take him up, that he had neither leisure nor cause of complaint, ff man had craved an helper, he had grudged at the condition of his crea tion, and had questioned that which he had, perfection of being. But he that gave him his being, and knew him better than him self, thinks of giving him comfort in the creature, while he sought none but in his Maker. He sees our wants, and forecasts our relief, when we think ourselves too happy to complain. How ready will he be to help our necessities, that thus provides for our perfection ! God gives the nature to his creatures ; OF PARADISE. [Book I: man must give the name ; that he might see they were made for him, they shall be to him what he will. Instead of their first homage, they are presented to their new lord, and must see of whom they hold. He that was so careful of man's sovereignty in his innocence, how can he be careless of his safety in his renovation ? If God had given them their names, it had not been so great a praise of Adam's memory to recall them, as it was now of his judgment (at first sight) to impose them : he saw the inside of all the creatures at first, (his posterity sees but their skins ever since ;) and by this knowledge he fitted their names to their dispositions. All that he saw were fit to be his servants, none to be his companions. The same God that finds the want, supplies it. Rather than man's innocency shall want an outward comfort, God will begin a new creation : not out of the earth, which was the matter of man ; not out of the inferior creatures, which were the servants of man ; but out of himself, for dearness, for equality. Doubt less, such was man's power of obedience, that if God had bidden him yield up his rib, waking, for his use, he had done it cheerfully : but the bounty of God was so absolute, that he would not so much as consult with man's will, to make him happy. As man knew not while he was made, so shall he not know while his other self is made out of him : that the comfort might be greater, which was seen before it was expected. If the woman should have been made, not without the pain or will of the man, she might have been upbraided with her dependence and obligation. Now she owes nothing but to her Creator ; the rib of Adam sleeping can challenge no more of her than the earth can of him. It was an happy change to Adam of a rib for an helper ; what help did that bone give to his side ! God had not made it, if it had been super fluous : and yet if man could not have been perfect without it, it had not been taken out. Many things are useful and convenient, which are not necessary ; and if God had seen man might not want it, how easy had it been for him, which made the woman of that bone, to turn the flesh into another bone ! but he saw man could not complain of the want of that bone, which he had so multiplied, so animated. O God, we can never be losers by thy changes ; we have nothing but what is thine. Take from us thine own, when thou wilt : we are sure thou canst not but give us better. CONTEMPLATION III OF PARADISE. Man could no sooner see, than he saw himself happy : his eye-sight and reason were both perfect at once, and the objects of both were able to make him as happy as he would. When he first opened his eyes, he saw heaven above him, earth under him, the creatures around him, God before him ; he knew what all these things meant, as if he had been long acquainted with them all. He saw the heavens glorious, but afar off: his Maker thought it requisite to fit him with a paradise nearer home. If God had | ¦ appointed him immediately to heaven, his body had been superfluous ; it was fit his body should be answered with an earthen image of that heaven, which was for his soul. Had man been made only for con- . templation, it would have served as well I to have been placed in some vast desert, ' on the top of some barren mountain ; but the same power which gave him a heart to meditate, gave him hands to work, and work fit for his hands. Neither was it the purpose of the Creator, that man should but live. Pleasure may stand with inno cence. He that rejoiced to see all he had made to be good, rejoiceth to see all that he hath made to be well. God loves to see his creatures happy ; our lawful delight is his : they know not God, that think to/ please him with making themselves miser able. The idolaters thought it a fit service for Baal, to cut and lance themselves : never any holy man looked for thanks from the true God by wronging himself, Every earth was not fit for Adam, but a garden, a para dise. What excellent pleasures, and rare varieties, have men found in gardens, plan ted by the hands of men ! and yet all the world of men cannot make one twig, or leaf, or spire of grass. When he that made the matter undertakes the fashion, how must it needs be, beyond our capacity, excellent! No herb, no flower, no tree, was wanting there, that might be for ornament or use ; whether for sight, or for scent, or for taste. The bounty of God wrought further than to necessity, even to comfort and recreation: Why are we niggardly to ourselves, when God is liberal? But for all this, if God had not there conversed with man, no abun dance could have made him blessed. Yet, behold I that which was man's store house, was also his work-house; his plea sure was his task : paradise served not only to feed his senses, but to exercise -his hands. If happiness had consisted in doing nothing, Cont. III.] OF PARADISE. man had not been employed ; all his delights could not have made him happy in an idle life. Man therefore is no sooner made, than he is set to work: neither greatness nor perfection can privilege a folded hand ; ne must labour because he was happy ; how much more we, that we may be! This first labour of his was,' as without necessity, so without pains, without weariness: How much more cheerfully we go about our businesses, so much nearer we come to our paradise. Neither did these trees afford him only action for his hands, but instruction to his heart; for here he saw God's sacraments grow before him : all other trees had a na tural use ; these two in the midst ofthe gar den a spiritual. Life is the act of the soul, knowledge the life of the soul ; the tree of knowledge, and the tree of life, then, were ordained as earthly helps of the spiritual part. Perhaps he which ordained the end, immortality of life, did appoint this fruit as the means of that life. It is not for us to inquire after the hfe we had, and the means we should have had, I am sure it served to nourish the soul by a lively representation of that living tree, whose fruit is eternal life, and whose leaves serye to heal the nations. O infinite mercy! man saw his Saviour before him, ere he had need of a Saviour: he saw in whom he should recover an hea venly hfe, ere he lost the earthly. But after he had tasted ofthe tree of knowledge, he might not taste of the tree of Ufe ; that immortal food was not for a mortal sto mach: yet then did he most savour that invisible tree of life, when he was most restrained from the other. O Saviour ! none but a sinner can relish thee ; my taste hath been enough seasoned with the forbidden fruit, to make it capable of thy sweetness ; sharpen thou as well the stomach of my soul by repenting ; by be lieving, so shall I eat, and, in despite of Adam, live for ever. The one tree was for confirmation, the other for trial; one showed him what life he should have, the other what knowledge he should not desire to have. Alas! he that knew all other things, knew not this one thing, that he knew enough : how divine a thing is know ledge, whereof even innooency itself is am bitious! Satan knew what he did: if this bait had been gold, or honour, or pleasure, man had contemned it: who can hope to avoid error, when even man's perfection is mistaken? He looked for speculative knowledge ; he should have looked for ex perimental : he thought it had been good to know evil; good was large enough to have perfected his knowledge, and therein his blessedness. All that God made was good, and the Maker of them much more good; they good in their kinds, he good in himself. It would not content him to know God and his creatures ; his curiosity affected to know that which God never made, evil of sin, and the evil of death, which indeed himself made by desiring to know them : now we know evil well enough, and smart with knowing it. How dear hath this lesson cost us, that in some cases it is better to be ignorant! and yet do the sons of Eve inherit this saucy appetite of their grand mother: how many thousand souls mis carry with the presumptuous affectation of forbidden kuowledge! O God, thou hast revealed more than we can know, enough to make us happy ; teach me a sober knowledge and a contented ignorance. Paradise was made for man, yet there I see the serpent : what marvel is it, if my corruption find the serpent in my closet, in my table, in my bed, when our holy parents found him in the midst of paradise? No sooner he is entered but he tempteth ; he can no more be idle than harmless. I do not see him at any other tree ; he knew there was no danger in the rest : I see him at the tree forbidden. How true a serpent he is in every point! in his insinuation to the place, in his choice of the tree, in his assault of the woman, in his plausible- ness of speech to avoid terror, in his ques tion to move doubt, in his reply to work distrust, in his protestation of safety, in his suggestion to envy and discontent, in his promise of gain ! And if he was so cunning at the first, what shall we think of him now, after so many thousand years' experience? Only thou, O God! and these angels that see thy face, are wiser than he. I do not ask why, when he left his goodness, thou didst not bereave him of his skill: still thou wouldst have him an angel, though an evil one 5 and thou knowest how to ordain his craft to thine own glory. I do not desire thee to abate of his subtilty, but to make me wise : let me beg it, without presump tion, make me wiser than Adam. Even thine image which he bore, made him not (through his own weaknesss) wise enough to obey thee : thou offeredst him all fruits, and restrainedst but one; Satan offered him but one, and restrained not the rest. When he chose rather to be at Satan's feeding than thine, it was just with thee to 8 OF CAIN AND ABEL. [Book I. turn him out of thy gates with a curse: why shouldst thou feed a rebel at thine own board? And yet we transgress daily, and thou shuttest not heaven against us : how is it that we find more mercy than our fore father? His strength is worthy of severity, our weakness finds pity. That God, from whose face he fled in the garden, now makes him with shame to flee out of the garden : those angels that should have kept him, now keep the gates of paradise against him. It is not so easy to recover happiness, as to keep it or lose it; yea, the same cause that drave man from paradise hath also withdrawn paradise from the world. That fiery sword did not defend it against those waters wherewith the sins of men drowned the glory of that place: neither now do I care to seek where that paradise was which we lost: I know where that paradise is, which we must care to seek, and hope to find. As man was the image of God, so was that earthly paradise an image of heaven ; both the images are de faced, both the first patterns are eternal : Adam Was in the first, and stayed not : in the second, is the second Adam, which said, " This day shalt thou be with me in paradise." There was that chosen vessel, and heard and saw what could not be ex pressed: by how much the third heaven exceeds the richest earth, so much doth that paradise, whereto we aspire, exceed that which we have lost. CONTEMPLATION IV. — OF CAIN AND ABEL. Look now, O my soul ! upon the two first brethren, perhaps twins, and wonder' at their contrary dispositions and estates. If the privileges of nature had been worth any thing, the first-born child should not have been a reprobate. Now, that we may ascribe all to free grace, the elder is a murderer, the younger a saint: though goodness. may be repaired in ourselves, yet it cannot be propagated to ours : now might Adam see the image of himself in Cain, for after his own image begot he him ; Adam slew his posterity, Cain his brother. We are too like one another, in that wherein we are unlike to i God : even the clearest grain sends forth , that chaff from which it was fanned ere the sowing : yet is this Cain a possession. The same Eve that mistook the fruit of the garden, mistook also the fruit of her own body ; her hope deceived her in both : so, many good names are ill bestowed ; and our comfortable expectations in earthly things do not seldom disappoint us. Doubtless their education was holy ; for Adam, though in paradise he could not be innocent, yet was a good man out of para dise : his sin and fall now made him cir cumspect ; and since he saw that his act had bereaved them of that image of God, which he once had for them, he could not but labour, by all holy endeavours, to repair it in them, that so his care might make amends for his trespass. How plain is it "that even good breeding cannot alter des tiny ! That which is crooked, can none make straight : who would think that bre thren, and but two brethren, should not love each other? Dispersed love grows weak, and fewness of objects useth to unite affections : if but two brothers be left alive of many, they think that the love of all the rest should survive in them ; and now the beams of their affection are so much the hotter, because they reflect mutually in a right line upon each other : yet behold, here are but two brothers in a world, and one is the butcher of the other. Who can wonder at dissensions among thousands of brethren, when he sees so deadly opposition betwixt two, the first roots of brotherhood ? Who can hope to live plausibly and securely amongst so many Cains, when he sees one Cain the death of one Abel ? The same devil that set enmity betwixt man and God, sets enmity betwixt man and man ; and yet God said, " I will put enmity between thy seed and her seed." Our hatred of the serpent and his seed is from God ; their hatred of the holy seed is from the serpent : behold here at once, in one person, the seed of the woman and of the serpent ; Cain's natural parts are of the woman, his vicious qualities of the serpent : the woman gave him to be a brother, the serpent to be a. manslayer ; all uncharitableness, all quarrels are of one author : we cannot en tertain wrath, and not give place to the devil. Certainly, so deadly an act must needs be deeply grounded. What, then, was the occasion of this ca pital malice ? Abel's sacrifice is accepted : what was this to Cain ? Cain's is rejected : what could Abel remedy this? O envy! the corrosive of all ill minds, and the root of all desperate actions. The same cause that moved Satan to tempt the first man to de stroy himself and his posterity, the same moves the second man to destroy the third. It should have been Cain's joy to see his brother accepted : it should have been his sorrow to see that himself had deserved a rejection; his brother's example should Cont. IV.] OF CAIN AND ABEL. have excited and directed him. Could Abel have stayed God's fire from descending? or should he (if he could) reject God's ac ceptation, and displease his Maker to con tent a brother? Was Cain ever the farther from a blessing, because his brother obtained mercy ? How proud and foolish is malice ! which grows thus mad for no other cause but because God or Abel is not less good. It hath been an old and happy danger to be holy ; indifferent actions must be, careful to avoid offence ; but I care not what devil or what Cain be angry that I do good, or receive good. There was never any nature without envy : every man is born a Cain, hating that goodness in another which he neglected in himself. There was never envy that was not bloody; for if it eat not another's heart, it will eat our own ; but unless it be re strained, it will surely feed itself with the blood of others, ofttimes in act, always in affection. And that God, which (in good) accepts the will for the deed, -condemns the will for the deed in evil. If there be an evil heart, there will be an evil eye ; and if both these, there will be an evil hand. How early did martyrdom come into the world! The first man that died, died for , religion : who dare measure God's love by outward events, when he sees wicked Cain standing over bleeding Abel, whose sacrifice was first accepted, and now himself is sa- r "crificed ! Death was denounced to man as a curse; yet, behold! it first lights upon a saint : how soon was it altered by the mercy of that just hand which inflicted it! if death had been evil and life good, Cain had been slain, and Abel had survived. Now that it begins with him that God loves, " O death, where is thy sting !" Abel says nothing — his blood cries. [ Every drop of innocent blood hath a tongue, | and is not only vocal, but importunate. i What a noise, then, did the blood of my I Saviour make in heaven, who was himself j the shepherd and the sacrifice, the man j that was offered, and the God to whom it ' was offered! The Spirit that heard both, says, " It spake better things than the blood of Abel." Abel's blood called for revenge — his for mercy: Abel's pleaded his own innocency — his the satisfaction for all the believing world: Abel's procured Cain's punishment — his freed all repentant souls from punishment ; better things indeed than the blood of Abel ; better, and therefore that which Abel's blood said was good. It is good that God should be avenged of sinners. Execution of justice upon offen ders is no less good than rewards of good ness. No sooner doth Abel's blood speak unto God, than God speaks to Cain. There is no wicked man to whom God speaks not, if not to his ear, yet to his heart. What speech was this ? Not an accusation, but an inquiry ; yet such an inquiry as would infer an accusation. God loves to have a sinner accuse himself ; and therefore hath he set his deputy in the breast of man : neither doth God love this more than na ture abhors it. Cain answers stubborn.y : the very name of Abel wounds him no less than his hand had wounded Abel : con sciences that are without remorse, are not without horror : wickedness makes men des perate. The murderer is angry with God, as of late, for accepting his brother's obla tion ; so now, for listening to his blood. And now he dares answer God with a question, " Am I" my brother's keeper ?" where he should have said, Am not I my brother's murderer ? Behold, he scorneth to keep whom he feared not to kill. Good duties are base and troublesome to wicked minds, while even violences of evil are pleasant. Yet this miscreant, which nei ther had grace to avoid his sin nor to con fess it, now that he is convinced of sin, and cursed for it, how he howleth, how he exclaimeth ! He that cares not for the act of his sin, shall care for the smart of his punishment. The damned are weary of their torments, but in vain. How great a madness is it to complain too late ! He that would not keep his brother, is cast out from the protection of God ; he that feared not to kill his brother, fears now that who soever meets him will kill him. The trou bled conscience projecteth fearful things, and sin makes even cruel men cowardly. God saw it was too much favour for him to die ; he therefore wills that which Cain wills. Cain would live ; it is yielded him, but for a curse. How often doth God hear sinners in anger ! He shall live, ba nished from God, carrying his hell in his bosom, and the brand of God's vengeance in his forehead. God rejects him, the earth repines at him, men abhor him ; him self now wishes that death which he feared, and no man dare pleasure him with a mur der. How bitter is the end of sin, yea, without end! Still Cain finds that he \ killed himself more than his brother. We ; I should never sin if our foresight were but ¦ as good as our sense ; the issue of sin would appear a thousand times more horrible than the act is pleasant. 10 OF THE DELUGE. [Book I. CONTEMPLATION V. — OF THE DELUGE. The world was grown so foul with sin, that God saw it was time to wash it with a flood : and so close did wickedness cleave to the authors of it, that when they were washed to nothing, yet it would not off; yea, so deep did- it stick in the very grain of the earth, that God saw it meet to let it soak long under the waters. So, under the law, the very vessels that had touched unclean water, must either be rinsed or broken. Mankind began but with one ; and yet he that saw the first man, lived to see the earth peopled with a world of men ; yet man grew not so fast as wickedness. One man could soon and easily multiply a thousand sins — never man had so many children : so that when there were men enough to store the earth, there were as many sins as would reach up to heaven ; whereupon the waters came down from heaven, and swelled up to heaven again. If there had not been so deep a deluge of sin, there had been none of the waters ; from whence, then, was this superfluity of iniquity ? Whence but from the unequal yoke with infidels ? These marriages did not beget men so much as wickedness ; from hence religious husbands both lost their piety, and gained a rebellious and godless generation. That which was the first occasion of sin, was the occasion of the increase of sin : A woman seduced Adam — women be trayed the sons of God : the beauty of the apple betrayed the woman — the beauty of these women betrayed this holy seed: Eve saw, and lusted — so did they; this also was a forbidden fruit — they lusted, tasted, sinned, died. The most sins begin at the eyes ; by them commonly Satan creeps into the heart : that soul can never be in safety that hath not covenanted with his eyes. God needed not have given these men any warning of his judgment ; they gave him no warning of their sins, no respite ; yet that God might approve his mercies to the very wicked, he gives them an hundred and twenty years' respite of repenting. How loath is God to strike, that threats so long ! He that delights in revenge surprises his adversary ; whereas he that gives long warnings desires to be prevented. If we were not wilful, we should never smart. Neither doth he give them time only, but a faithful teacher. It is a happy thing when he that teacheth others is righ teous. Noah's hand taught them as much as his tongue. , His business in building the ark was a real sermon to the world, wherein at once were taught mercy and life to the believer, and to the rebellious, de struction. Methinks I see those monstrous sons of Lamech coming to Noah, and asking him what he means by that strange work ? whether he meant to sail upon the dry land ? To whom, when he reports God's purpose and his, they go away laughing at his idle ness, and tell one another in sport, that too much holiness hath made him mad : yet can not they all flout Noah out of his faith ; he preaches, and builds, and finishes. Doubt less more hands went to this work than his. Many a one wrought upon the ark, | which yet was not saved in the ark. Our ' outward works cannot save us without our faith ; we may help to save others, and pe rish ourselves. What a wonder of mercy is this that I here see! One poor family called out of a world, and, as it were, eight grains of corn fanned from a whole barnful of chaff. One hypocrite was saved with the rest, for Noah's sake ; not one righteous man was swept away for com pany: for these few was the earth pre served still under the waters, and all kinds of creatures upon the waters ; which else had been all destroyed. Still the world stands for their sakes for whom it was pre served, else fire should consume that which could not be cleansed by water. This difference is strange: I see the sa- vagest of all creatures, bons, tigers, bears, by an instinct from God, come to seek the ark (as we see swine, foreseeing a storm, run home crying for shelter), — men I see not : reason once debauched is worse than brutishness. God hath use even of these fierce and cruel beasts, and glory by them ; even they, being created for man, must live by him, though to his punishment. How gently do they offer and submit them selves to their preserver ! renewing that obeisance to this repairer of the world, which they, before sin, yielded to him that first stored the world. He that shut them into the ark when they were entered, shut their mouths also when they did enter. The lions fawn upon Noah and Daniel. What heart cannot the Maker of them mollify 1 The unclean beasts God would have to live, the clean to multiply ; and therefore he sends to Noah seven of the clean, of the unclean two. He knew the one would annoy man with their multitude, the other would enrich him. Those things are worthy of most respect, which are of most use. But why seven ? Surely that God, that created seven days in the week, and made Cont. V.] OF THE DELUGE. 11 one for himself, did here preserve, of seven clean beasts, one for himself for sacrifice. He gives us six for one in earthly things, that in spiritual we should be all for him. Now the day is come, all the guests are entered, the ark is shut, and the windows of heaven opened. I doubt not but many of those scoffers, when they saw the vio lence of the waves descending and ascend ing, according to Noah's prediction, came wading middle-deep unto the ark, and im portunately craved that admittance which they once^denied ; but now, as they for merly rejwj^d God, so are they justly rejected of 'God. Ere vengeance begin, \ repentance is seasonable ; but if judgment , be once gone out, we cry too late. While ; the gospel solicits us, the doors of the ark are open ; if we neglect the time of grace, in vain shall we seek it with tears. God holds it no mercy to pity the obstinate. Others, more bold than they, hope to overrun the judgment ; and, climbing up to the high mountains, look down upon the waters with more hope than fear. And now when they see their hills become islands, they climb up into the tallest trees ; there with paleness and horror at once look for death, and study to avoid it, whom the waves overtake at last, half dead with fa mine and half with fear. Lo ! now from the tops of the mountains they descry the ark floating upon the waters, and behold with envy that which before they beheld with scorn. In vain doth he fly whom God pursues. j There is no way to fly from his judgments, \ but to fly to his mercy by repentance. The faith of the righteous cannot be so much derided, as their success is magnified. How ' securely doth Noah ride out this uproar of ( heaven, earth, and waters ! He hears the | pouting down of the rain above his head ; > the shrieking of men, and roaring and bel- ; lowing of beasts on both sides of him ; the '; raging and threats of the waves under him ; » he saw the miserable shifts of the distressed unbelievers ; and, in the meantime, sits i quietly in his dry cabin, neither feeling nor ¦fearing evil. He knew that he which owned ' the waters would steer him ; that he who shut him in would preserve him. How happy a thing is faith ! what a quiet safety, what an heavenly peace doth it work in the soul, in the midst of all the inundation of evil ! Now, when God hath fetched again all the life which he had given to Tiis unworthy creatures, and reduced the world unto its first form, wherein waters were over the face of the earth, it was time for a renova tion of all things to succeed this destruc tion. To have continued this deluge long, had been to punish Noah that was righ teous. After forty days, therefore, the hea vens clear up ; after an hundred and fifty, the waters sink down. How soon is God weary of punishing, which is never weary of blessing I But may not the ark rest sud denly? If we did not stay some while un der God's hand, we should not know how sweet his mercy is, and how great our thankfulness should be. The ark, though it was Noah's fort against the waters, yet it was his prison ; he was safe in it, but pent up : he that gave him life by it, now thinks time to give him liberty out of It. God doth not reveal all things to his best servants. Behold, he that told Noah, an hundred and twenty years before, what day he should go into the ark, yet foretells him not now in the ark what day the ark should rest upon the hills, and he should go forth. Noah therefore sends out his intelligencers, the raven and the dove, whose wings in that vaporous air might easily descry fur ther than his sight. The raven, of quick scent, of gross feed, of tough constitution ; no fowl was so fit for discovery : the like liest things always succeed not. He neither will venture far into that solitary world for fear of want, nor yet come into the ark for love of liberty, but hovers about in uncer tainties. How many carnal minds fly out of the ark of God's church, and embrace the present world ; rather choosing to feed upon the unsavoury carcases of sinful plea sures, than to be restrained within the strait fists of Christian obedience ! The dove is sent forth, a fowl both swift and simple. She, like a true citizen of tne ark, returns, and brings faithful notice of the continuance of the waters, by her rest less and empty return; by her olive-leaf, of the abatement. How worthy are those messengers to be welcome, which with in nocence in their lives, bring glad tidings of peace and salvation in their mouths ! Noah rejoices and believes ; yet still he waits seven days more. It is not good to devour the favours of God too greedily ; but so take them in, that we may digest them. O strong faith of Noah, that was not weary with this delay! Some man would have so longed for the open air, after so long closeness, that, upon the first notice of safety, he would have uncovered and voided the ark. Noah stays seven days ere he will open, and well-near two months ere he will forsake the ark ; and not then unless God that commanded to enter, had bidden him depart. There is no action good without faith ; no faith without aword, 12 OF NOAH. [Book IL Happy is that man which in all things (neglecting the counsels of flesh and blood) depends upon the commission of his Maker I BOOK II. CONTEMPLATION I OF NOAH. No sooner is Noah come out of the ark, but he-builds an altar : not an house for himself, but an altar to the Lord. Our faith will ever teach us to prefer God to ourselves : delayed thankfulness is not wor thy of acceptation . Of those few creatures that are left, God must have some ; they are all his : yet his goodness will have man know that it was he, for whose sake they were preserved. It was a privilege to those very brute creatures, that they were saved from the waters, to be offered up in fire unto God. What a favour is it to men, to be reserved from common destructions, to be sacrificed to their Maker and Re deemer. Lo, this little fire of Noah, through the virtue of his faith, purged the world, and ascended up into those heavens from which the waters fell, and caused a glorious rain bow to appear therein for his security : all tne sins of the former world were not so unsavoury unto God, as this smoke was oleasant. No perfume can be so sweet as tne holy obedience of the faithful. Now God that was before annoyed with the ill savour of sin, smells a sweet savour of rest. Behold here a new and second rest ! First, God rested from making the world, now he rests from destroying it ; even while we cease not to offend, he ceases from a pub lic revenge. His word was enough ; yet withal he gives a sign, which may speak the truth of his promise to the very eyes of men. Thus he doth still in his blessed sacraments, which are as real words to the soul. The rainbow is the pledge of our safety, which even naturally signifies the end of a shower : all the signs of God's in stitution are proper and significant. But who would look, after all this, to have found righteous Noah, the father of the new world, lying drunken in his tent ! Who could think that wine should over throw him that was preserved from the waters ! that he, who could not be taint ed with the sinful examples of the former world, should begin the example of a new sin of his own ! What are we men if we be but ourselves ! While God upholds us, no temptation can move us : when he leaves us, no temptation is too weak to overthrow ns. What living man had ever so noble proofs of the mercy, of the justice of God : Mercy upon himself, justice upon others ! What man had so gracious approbation from his Maker ? Behold, he of whom in an unclean world, God said, Thee only have I found righteous, proves now un clean when the world was purged. The preacher of righteousness unto the former age, the king, priest, and prophet of the world renewed, is the first that renews the sins of that world which he had reproved, and which he saw condemned for sin. God's best children have no fence for sins of infirmity. Which of the saints have not once done that, whereof they are ashamed ? God, that lets us fall, knows how to make as good use of the sins of his holy ones, as of their obedience. If we had not such patterns, who could choose but despair at the sight of his sins ? Yet we find Noah drunken but once. One act can no more make a good heart unrighteous, than a trade of sin can stand with regeneration. But when I look to the effect of this sin, I cannot but blush and wonder. Lo ! this sin is worse than sin : other sins move shame, but hide it ; this displays it to the world. Adam had no sooner sinned, but he saw and abhorred his own nakedness, seek ing to hide it even with bushes. Noah had no sooner sinned, but he discovers his nakedness, and hath not so much rule of himself as to be ashamed. One hour's drunkenness betrays that which more than six hundred years' sobriety had modestly concealed. He that gives himself to wine, is not his own : what ' shall we think of this vice, which robs a man of himself, and lays a beast in his room ? Noah's naked ness is seen in wine. It is no unusual qua lity, in this excess, to disclose secrets. Drunkenness doth both make imperfec tions, and show those we have to others' eyes : so would God have it, that we might be- doubly ashamed both of those weak nesses which we discover, and of that weak ness which moved us to discover. Noah is uncovered but in the midst of his own tent : it had been sinful, though no man had seen -it. Unknown sins have their guilt and shame, and are justly attended with known punishments. Ungracious Cham saw it and laughed: his father's shame should have been his ; the defor mity of those parts from which he had his being, should have begotten in him a secret horror and dejection. How many grace less men make sport at the causes of their Cont. IL] OF BABEL. 13 humiliation! Twice had Noah given him life ; yet neither the name of a father and preserver, nor age nor virtue, could shield him from the contempt of his own. I see that even God's ark may nourish monsters. Some filthy toads may lie under the stones of the temple : God preserves some men in judgment. Better had it been for Cham to have perished in the waters, than to live unto his father's curse. Not content to be a witness of this filthy sight, he goes on to be a proclaimer of it. Sin doth ill in the eye, but worse in the tongue. As all sin is a work of darkness, so it should be buried in darkness. The report of sin is ofttimes as ill as the commission ; for it can never be blazoned without uncharitableness ; seldom without infection. Oh the unnatural, and more than Chamish impiety of those sons, which rejoice to publish the nakedness of their spiritual parents, even to their enemies ! Yet it was well for Noah that Cham could tell it to none but his own ; and those, gracious and dutiful sons. Our shame is the less, if none know our faults but our friends. Behold how love covereth sins ! These good sons are so far from going for ward to see their father's shame, that they go backward to hide it. The cloak is laid on both their shoulders ; they both go back with equal paces, and dare not so much as look back, lest they should unwillingly see the cause of their shame, and will rather adventure to stumble at their father's body, than to see his nakedness. How did it grieve them to think, that they, which had so often come to their holy father with re verence, must now in reverence turn their backs upon him ! that they must now clothe him in pity, which had so often clothed them in love ! And, which adds more to their duty, they covered him and said nothing. This modest sorrow is their praise, and our example. The sins of those we love and honour, we must hear of with indignation, fearfullyandunwillinglybelieve, acknowledge with grief and shame, hide with honest excuses, and bury in silence. How equal a regard is this both of piety and disobedience ! Because Cham sinned against his father, therefore he shall be plagued in his children : Japheth is dutiful to his father, and finds it in his posterity. Because Cham was an ill son to his father, therefore his sons shall be servants to his brethren : because Japheth set his shoulder to Shem's, to bear the cloak of shame, therefore shall Japheth dwell in the tents of Shem, partaking with him in blessings as in duty. When we do but what we ought, yet God is thankful to us ; and re wards that, which we should sin if we did not. Who could ever yet show me a man rehelliously undutiful to his parents, that hath prospered in himself, and his seed? CONTEMPLATION II. — OF BABEL.' How soon are men and sins multiplied ! within one hundred years, the world is as full of both, as if there had been no deluge. Though men could not but see the fearful monuments of the ruin of their ancestors, yet how quickly had they forgotten a flood ! Good Noah lived to see the world both populous and wicked again : and doubtless ofttimes repented to have been the pre server of some, whom he saw to traduce the vices of the former world to the re newed. It could not but grieve him to see the destroyed giants revive out of his own loins, and to see them of his flesh and blood tyrannise over themselves. In his sight Nimrod, casting off the awe of his holy grandfather, grew imperious and cruel, and made his own kinsmen servants. How easy a thing it is for a great spirit to be the head of a faction, when even brethren will stoop to servitude ! And now, when men are combined together, evil and pre sumptuous motions find encouragment in multitudes, and each man takes a pride in seeming forwardest : we are the cheer- fuller in good, when we have the assistance of company ; much more in sinning, hy how much we are more prone to evil than good. It was a proud word — " Come, let us build a city and a tower, whose top may reach to heaven." They were newly come down from the hills unto the plains, and now think of raising up of an liill of building in the plain. When their tents were pitched upon the mountains of Armenia, they were as near to heaven as their tower could make them ; but their ambition must needs aspire to an height of their own raising. Pride is ever discontented, and still seeks matter of boasting in her own works. How fondly do men reckon without God! " Come let us build ;" as if there had been no stop but in their own will ; as if both earth and time had been theirs. Still do all natural men build Babel, forecasting their own plots so resolutely, as if there were no power to countermand them. It is just with God, that peremptory determina tions seldom prosper: whereas those things, which are fearfully and modestly under taken, commonly succeed. " Let us build us a city." If they had 14 OF BABEL. [Book II. taken God with them, it had been com mendable ; establishing of societies is pleas ing to him that is the God of order : but a tower whose top may reach to heaven, was a shameful arrogance, an impious pre sumption. Who would think, that we little ants, that creep upon this earth, should think of climbing up to heaven, by multiplying of earth ? Pride ever looks at the highest. The I first man would know as God ; these would i dwell as God : covetousness and ambition ; know no limits. And what if they had '-¦ reached up to heaven ? Some hills are as high as they could hope to be, and yet are no whit the better ; no place alters the condition of nature. An angel is glorious, though he be upon earth ; and man is but ' earth though he be above the clouds. The nearer they had been to heaven, the more 1 subject they had been to the violences of ;' heaven, to thunders, lightnings, and those other higher inflammations : what had this : heen, but to thrust themselves into the \ hands of the revenger of all wicked inso lences ! God loves that heaven should be looked at, and affected with all humble de sires, with the holy ambitions of faith, not with the proud imaginations of our own achievements. But wherefore was all this ? not that they loved so much to be neighbours to heaven, as to be famous upon earth. It was not commodity that was here sought, not safety, but glory. Whither doth not thirst of fame carry men, whether in good or evil ? It makes them seek to climb to heaven ; it makes them not fear to run down headlong to hell. Even in the best things, \ desire of praise stands in competition with | conscience, and brags to have the more . clients. One builds a temple to Diana, in hope of glory, intending it for one of the great wonders of the world ; another, in hope of fame, burns it. He is a rare man that hath not some Babel of his own, whereon he bestows pains and cost, only to be talked of. If they had done better things in a vain-glorious purpose, their act had been accursed : if they had built houses to God, if they had sacrificed, prayed, lived well ; the intent poisons the action : But now both the act and the purpose are equally vain, and the issue is as vain as either. God hath a special indignation at pride above all sins, and will cross our endea vours, not for that they are evil, (what hurt could be in laying one brick upon another?) but for that they are proudly undertaken. He could have hindered the laying of the first stone, and might as easily have made a trench for the foundation, the grave of the builders ; but he loves to see j what wicked men would do, and to let | fools run themselves out of breath. What monument should they have had of their own madness, and his powerful interrup tion, if the walls had risen to no height ? To stop them, then, in the midst of theii course, he meddles not with either theii hands or their feet, but their tongues ; not by pulling them out, not by loosing their strings, not by making them say nothing, but by teaching them to say too much. Here is nothing varied but the sound of letters ; even this frustrates the work, and befools the workmen. How easy is it for God ten thousand ways to correct and forestall the greatest projects of men ! He that taught Adam the first words, taught them words that never were. One calls for brick, the other looks him in the face, and wonders what he commands, and how and why he speaks such words as were never heard, and instead thereof brings him mortar, returning him an answer as little under stood ; each chides with other, expressing his choler, so as he only can understand himself. From heat they fall to quiet en treaties, hut still with the same success. At first every man thinks his fellow mocks him ; but now perceiving this serious con fusion, their only answer was silence, and ceasing : they could not come together, for no man could call them to be understood ; and if they had assembled, nothing could be determined, because one could never attain to the other's purpose : no, they could not have the honour of a general dis mission, but each man leaves his trowel and station, more like a fool than he un dertook it : so commonly actions begun in glory shut up in shame. All external actions depend upon the tongue. No man can know another's mind, if this be not the interpreter. Hence, as there were many tongues given to stay the building of Babel, so there were as many given to build the New Jerusalem, the evangelical cliurch. How dear hath Babel cost all the world ! At the first, when there was but one lan guage, men did spend their time in arts ; a (so was it requisite at the first settling of the world, and so came early to perfection) : but now we stay so long (of necessity) upon the shell of tongues, that we can hardly have time to chew the sweet kernel of knowledge. Surely men would have grown too proud, if there had been no Babel. It falls out ofttimes that one sin is a remedy of a greater. Division of tongues must Cont. III.] OF ABRAHAM. 15 needs slacken any work. Multiplicity of languages had not been given by the Holy Ghost, for a blessing to the church, if the world had not been before possessed with multiplicity of languages for a punishment. Hence it is, that the building of our Sion rises no faster, because our tongues are divided. Happy were the church of God, if we all spake but one language : while we differ, we can build nothing but Babel ; difference of tongues caused their Babel to cease, but it builds ours. CONTEMPLATION III. — OF ABRAHAM. It was fit that he which should be the father and pattern of the faithful, should be thoroughly tried ; for in a set copy every fault is important, and may prove a rule of error. Often trials which Abraham passed, the last was the sorest. No son of Abra ham can hope to escape temptations, while he sees that bosom in which he desires to rest, so assaulted with difficulties. Abra ham must leave his country and kindred, and live amongst strangers. The calling of God never leaves men where it finds them. The earth is the Lord's, and all places are alike to the wise and faithful. If Chaldea had not been grossly idolatrous, Abraham had not left it ; no bond must tie us to the danger of infection. But whither must he go ? To a place he knew not, to men that knew not him. It is enough comfort to a good man, where soever he is, that he is acquainted with God : we are never out of our way, while we follow the calling of God. Never any man lost by his obedience to the Highest. Because Abraham yielded, God gives him the possession of Canaan. I wonder more at his faith in talcing this possession, than inleavinghisown. Behold, Abraham takes possession for that seed which he had not ; which in nature he was not like to have : of that land whereof he should not have one foot, wherein his seed should not be settled for almost five hundred years after. The power of faith can prevent time, and make future things present. If we be the true sons of Abraham, we have already (while we sojourn here on earth) the pos session of our land of promise ; while we seek our country, we have it. Yet even Canaan doth not afford him bread, which yet he must believe shall flow with milk and honey to his seed. Sense must yield to faith. Woe were us, if we must judge of our future estate by the present. Egypt gives relief to Abra ham, when Canaan cannot. In outward things, God's enemies may fare better than his friends. Thrice had Egypt preserved the church of God ; in Abraham, in Jacob, in Christ. God ofttimes makes use of the world for the behoof of his, though without their thanks ; as contrarily he uses the wicked for scourges to his own inheritance, and burns them ; because in his good they intended evil. But what a change is this ! Hitherto hath Sarah been Abraham's wife ; now Egypt hath made her his sister ; fear hath turned him from a husband to a brother : no strength of faith can exclude some doubt- ings. God hath said, I will make thee a great nation : Abraham saith, the Egyptians will kill me. He that lived by Iris faith, yet shrinketh and sinneth. How vainly shall we hope to believe without all fear, and to live without infirmities ! Some little aspersions of unbelief cannot hinder the praise and power of faith. Abraham believed, and it was imputed to him for righteousness. He that through inconsi- derateness doubted twice of his own life, doubted not of the life of his seed, even from the dead and dry womb of Sarah ; yet it was more difficult that his posterity should live in Sarah, than that Sarah's husband should live in Egypt : this was above nature, yet he believes it. Some times the believer sticks at easy trials, and yet breaks through the greatest temptations without fear. Abraham was old, ere this promise and hope of a son, and still the older, the more incapable ; yet God makes him wait twenty-five years for performance. No time is long to faith, which hath learned to defer hopes without fainting and irk- someness. Abraham heard this news from, the angel, and laughed ; Sarah heard it, and laughed : they did not more agree in their desire, than differ in their affection. Abraham laughed for joy ; Sarah for distrust. Abra ham laughed, because he believed it would be so ; Sarah, becasue she believed it could not be. The same act varies in the manner of doing, and the intention ofthe doer. Yet Sarah laughed but within herself, and is bewrayed. Haw God can find us out in secret sins ! How easily did she now think, that he, which could know of her inward laughter, could know of her conception ! and now she that laughed, and believed not, believeth and feareth. What a lively pattern do I see in Abra ham, and Sarah, of a strong faith, and a weak ; of strong in Abraham, and weak in Sarah ! She to make God good of liis word 16 OF ISAAC SACRIFICED. [Book IT. to Abraham, knowing her own barrenness, substitutes an Hagar ; and, in an ambition of seed, persuades to polygamy. Abraham had never looked to obtain the promise by any other than a barren womb, if his own wife had not importuned him to take an other. When our own apparent means fail, weak faith is put to the shifts, and pro jects strange devices of her own, to attain her end. She will rather conceive by an other womb, than be childless. When she hears of an impossibility to nature, she doubteth, and yet hides her diffidence ; and, When she must believe, feareth, because she did distrust. Abraham hears and be lieves, and expects and rejoices : he saith not, I am old and weak ; Sarah is old and barren : where are the many nations that shall come from these withered loins ? It is enough to him that God hath said it : he sees not the means, he sees the pro mise. He knew that God would rather raise him up seed from the very stones that he trode upon, than himself should want a large and happy issue. There is no faith where there is either means or hopes. Difficulties and impossi bilities are the true objects of belief. Here upon God adds to his name, that which he would fetch from his loins, "and made his name as ample as his posterity. Never any man was a loser by believing : faith is ever recompensed with glory. Neither is Abraham content only to wait for God, but to smart for him. God bids him cut his own flesh ; he willingly sacrifices this parcel of his skin and blood to him that was the owner of all. How glad he is to carry this painful mark of the love of his Creator ! How forward to seal this cove nant with blood, betwixt God and him! not regarding the soreness of his body, in comparison of the confirmation of his soul. The wound was not so grievous as a signi fication was comfortable. For herein he saw, that from his loins should come that blessed seed, which should purge his soul from all corruption. Well is that part of us lost which may give assurance of the salvation of the whole. Our faith is not yet sound, if it have not taught us to neglect pain for God, and more to love his sacra ments than our own flesh. CONTEMPLATION IV. — OF ISAAC SACRIFICED. But all these are but easy tasks of faith : all ages have stood amazed at the next ; not knowing whether they should more wonder at God's command, or Abraham's obedience. Many years had that good patriarch waited for his Issac ; now at last he hath joyfully received him, and that with this gracious acclamation, " In Isaac shall thy seed be called, and all nations blessed." Behold the son of his age, the son of his love, the son of his expectation ; he that might not endure a mock from his brother, must now endure the kmife of his father : " Take thine only son Isaac whom thou lovest, and get thee to the land of Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt- offering." Never any gold was tried in so hot a fire. Who but Abraham would not have expos tulated with God ? What ! doth the God of mercies now begin to delight in blood ? Is it possible that murder should become piety ? Or if thou wilt needs take pleasure in a human sacrifice, is there none but Isaac fit for thine altar? none but Abraham to offer him ? Shall these hands destroy the fruits of mine own loins ? Can I not be faithful, unless I be unnatural ? Or if I must needs be the monster of all parents, will not Ishmael yet be accepted ? O God ! where is thy mercy ? where is thy justice ? Hast thou given me but one only son, and must I now slay him ? Why did I wait so long for him? Why didst thou give him me ? Why didst thou promise me a blessing in him ? What will the heathen say, when they shall hear of this infamous massacre? How can thy name, and my profession, escape a perpetual blasphemy ? With what face shall I look upon my wife Sarah, whose son I have murdered ? How shall she entertain the executioner of Isaac? Or who will believe that I did this from thee? How shall not all the world spit at this holy cruelty, and say, There goes the man that cut the throat of his own son ! Yet if he were an ungracious or re^ bellious child, his deserts might give some colour to this violence : but to lay hands on so dear, so dutiful, so hopeful a son, is incapable of all pretences. But grant that thou, which art the God of nature, mayest either alter or neglect it ; what shall I say to the truth of thy pro mises ? Can thy justice admit contradic tions? Can thy decrees be changeable? Canst thou promise and disappoint ? Can these two stand together — Isaac shall live to be the father of nations, and Isaac shall now die by the hand of his father ? When Isaac is once gone, where is my seed, where is my blessing ? O God, if thy commands and purposes be capable of alteration, alter this bloody sentence, and let thy first word stand. Cont. IV.] OF ISAAC SACRIFICED. 17 These would have been the thoughts of a weak heart. But God knew that he spake to an Abraham, and Abraham knew that he had to do with a God : faith had taught him not to argue but obey. In a holy wilfulness he either forgets nature or despises her: he is sure that what God commands is good, that what he promises is infallible ; and therefore is careless of the means, and trusts to the end. In matters of God, whosoever consults With flesh and blood, shall never offer up his Isaac to God. There needs no coun sellor when we know God is the com mander ; here is neither grudging, nor deliberating, nor delaying ; his faith would not suffer him so much as to be sorry for that he must do. Sarah herself may not know of God's charge and her husband's purpose, lest her affection should have overcome her faith ; lest her weakness, now grown importunate, should have said, Dis obey God, and die. That which he must do, he will do ; he that hath learned not to regard the life of his son, had learned not to regard the sorrow of his wife. It is too much tenderness to respect the censures and constructions of others, when we have a direct word from God. The good patri arch rises early, and addresses himself to his sad journey. And now must he travel three whole days to this execution; and still must Isaac be in his eye, whom all this while he seems to see bleeding upon the pile of wood which he carries. There is nothing so miserable as to dwell under the expectation of a great evil. That misery which must be, is mitigated with speed, and aggravated with delay. All this while, if Abraham had repented him, he had leisure to return. There is no small trial, even in the very time of trial. Now, when they are come within sight of the chosen mountain, the servants are dis missed. What a devotion is this that will abide no witnesses 1 He will not suffer two of his own vassals to see him do that, which soon after all the world must know he hath done ; yet is not Abraham afraid of that piety, which the beholders could not see without horror, without resistance, which no ear could hear of without abo mination. What stranger could have en dured to see the father carry the knife and fire, instruments of that death which he had rather suffer than inflict ; the son se curely carrying that burden which must carry him ? But if Abraham's heart could have known how to relent, that question of his dear, innocent, and religious son had melted it into compassion : " My father, behold the fire and the wood, but where is the sacri fice?" I know not whether that word (my father) did not strike Abraham as deep as the knife of Abraham could strike his son : yet doth he not so much as think, O miserable man, that may not at once be a son to such a God, and father to such a son ! Still he persists, and conceals ; and, where he meant not, prophesies, " My son, God shall provide a lamb for the burnt- offering." The heavy tidings were loath to come forth. It was a death to Abraham to say what he must do. He knows his own faith to act this ; he knows not Isaac's to endure it. But now when Isaac hath helped to build the altar, whereon he must be consumed, he hears (not without as tonishment) the strange command of God, the final will of his father : My son, thou art the lamb, which God hath provided for this burnt-offering. If my blood would have excused thee, how many thousand times had I rather to give thee my own life, than take thine ! Alas ! I am full of days, and now, of long, lived not but in thee. Thou mightest have preserved the life of thy father, and have comforted his death ; but the God of us both hath chosen thee. He, that gave thee unto me mira culously, bids me, by an unusual means, return thee unto him. I need not tell thee that I sacrifice all my worldly joys, yea and myself, in thee ; but God must be obeyed : neither art thou too dear for him that calls thee. Come on, my son, restore the life that God hath given thee by me. Offer thyself willingly to these flames ; send up thy soul cheerfully unto thy glory ; and know, that God loves thee above others, since he requires thee alone to be conse crated in sacrifice to himself. Who cannot imagine with what per plexed mixtures of passions, with what changes of countenance, what doubts, what fears, what amazement, good Isaac received this sudden message from the mouth of his father ! how he questioned, how he plead ed ! But when he had somewhat digested his thoughts, and considered that the aa- thor was God, the actor Abraham, the action a, sacrifice, he now approves himself the son of Abraham : now he encourages the trembling hands of his father, with whom he strives in this praise of forward ness and obedience: now he offers his hands and feet to the cords, his throat to the knife, his body to the altar ; and, grow ing ambitious ofthe sword and fire, entreats his father to do that which he would have B 18 OF LOT AND SODOM, [Book IL done, though he had dissuaded him. O holy emulation of faith ! O blessed agree ment of the sacrificer and oblation ! Abra ham is as ready to take as Isaac to give : he binds those dear hands, which are more straitly bound with the cords of duty and resolution ; he lays his sacrifice upon the wood, which now before-hand burnt in wardly with the heavenly fire of zeal and devotion. And now having kissed him his last, not without mutual tears, he lifts up his hand to fetch the stroke of death at once, not so much as thinking, perhaps, God will relent after the first wound. Now the stay of Abraham, the hope of the church, lies bleeding under the hand of a father. What bowels can choose but yearn at tliis specta cle ! Which of the savagest heathens, that had been now upon the hill of Moriah, and had seen (through the bushes) the sword of a father hanging over the throat of such a son, would not have been more perplexed in his thoughts than that unexpected sacri fice was in those briars ? Yet he, whom it nearest concerned, is least touched : faith hath wrought the same in him which cruelty would in others, not to be moved. He contemns all fears, and overlooks all impossibilities. His heart tells him, that the same hand which raised Isaac from the dead womb of Sarah, can raise him again from the ashes of his sacrifice. With this confidence was the hand of Abraham now falling upon the throat of Isaac, who had given himself for dead, and rejoiced in the change ; when suddenly the angel of God interrupts him, forbids him, commends him. The voice of God was never so welcome, never so sweet, never so seasonable as now : it was the trial that God intended, not the fact : Isaac is sacrificed, and is yet alive ; and now both of them are more happy in that they would have done, than they could have been distressed if they had done it. God's charges are ofttimes harsh in the beginnings and proceeding, but in the conclusion always comfortable. True spiritual comforts are commonly late and sudden. .God defers on purpose, that our trials may be perfect, our deliverance wel come, our recompense glorious. Isaac had never been so precious to his father, if he had not been recovered from death ; if he had not been as miraculously restored as given. Abraham had never been so blessed in his seed, if he had not neglected Isaac for God. The only way to find comfort in an earthly thing, is to surrender it (in a faith ful carelessness) into the hands of God. Abraham came to sacrifice : he may not go away with dry hands. God cannot abide that good purposes should be frustrate, lest either he should not do that for which he came, or should want means of speedy thanksgiving for so gracious a disappoint ment. Behold, a ram stands ready for the sacrifice, and, as it were, proffers himself to this happy exchange. He that made that beast, brings him thither, fastens him there. Even in small things there is a great provi dence. What mysteries there are in every act of God ! The only Son of God, upon this very hill, is laid upon the altar of the cross, and so becomes a true sacrifice for the world ; that yet he is raised without impeachment, and exempted from the power of death. The Lamb of God, which takes away the sins of the world, is here really offered and accepted. One Saviour in two figures ; in the one dying, restored in the other. So Abraham, while he exercises his faith, confirms it ; and rejoices more to foresee the true Isaac in that place offered to death for his sins, than to see the carnal Isaac preserved from death for the reward of his faith. Whatsoever is dearest to us upon earth, is our Isaac : happy are we, if we can sacrifice it to God. Those shall never rest with Abraham, that cannot sa crifice with Abraham-. CONTEMPLATION V. — OF LOT AND SODOM. Before Abraham and Lot grew rich* they dwelt together; now their wealth separates them ; their society was a greater good than their riches. Many a one is a loser by his wealth. Who would account those things good which make us worse ? It had been the duty of young Lot to offer rather than to choose, to yield rather than contend. Who wouldnot here think Abra ham the nephew, and Lot the uncle ? It is no disparagement for greater persons to begin treaties of peace. Better doth it be seem every son of Abraham to win with love, than to sway with power. Abraham yields over this right of his choice ; Lot takes it : and behold, Lot is crossed in that which he chose, Abraham was blessed in that which was left him. God never suffers any man to lose by an humble re mission of his right in a desire for peace. Wealth had made Lot not only unduti ful but covetous : he sees the goodly plains of Jordan, the richness of the soil, the commodity of the rivers, the situation of the cities ; and now not once inquiring into the conditions of the inhabitants, he is Cont. V.] OF LOT AND SODOM. 19 in love with Sodom. Outward appear ances are deceitful guides to our judgment or affections. They are worthy to be de ceived that value things as they seem. It is not long after that Lot pays dear for his rashness. He fled for quietness with his uncle, and finds war with strangers. Now he is carried prisoner with all his substance, by great enemies: Abraham must rescue him, of whom he was forsaken. That wealth, which was the cause of his former quarrels, is made a prey to merciless hea thens : that place, which his eye covetously chose, betrays his Ufe and goods. How many Christians, while they have looked at gain, have lost themselves ! - Yet this ill success hath neither driven out Lot nor amended .Sodom ; he still loves his commodity, and the Sodomites their sins. Wicked men grow worse with afflic tions, as water grows more cold after a heat : and as they leave not sinning, so God leaves not plaguing them, but still follows them with succession of judgments. In how few years hath Sodom forgot she was spoiled and led captive ! If that wicked city had been warned by the sword, it had escaped the fire ; but now this visitation hath not made ten good men in those five cities. How fit was this heap for the fire, which was all chaff? Only Lot vexed his righteous soul with the sight of their un cleanness : he vexed his own soul, for who bade him stay there ? Yet because he was vexed, he is delivered. He escapeth their judgment, from whose sins he escaped. Though he would be a guest of Sodom, yet, because he would not entertain their sins, he becomes an host to the angels. Even the good angels are the executioners of God's judgment. There cannot be a better or more noble act, than to do justice upon obstinate malefactors. Who can be ashamed of that which did not misbeseem the very angels of God ! Where should the angels lodge but with Lot I The houses of holy men are full of these heavenly spirits, when they know not : they pitch their tents in ours, and visit us when we see not ; and, when we feel not, protect us. It is the honour of God's saints to be attended by angels. The filthy Sodomites now flock together, stirred up with the fury of envy and lust, and dare require to do that in troops, which, to act single, had been too abominable to imagine natural. Continuance and society in evil makes wickedmen outrageous andimpudent. It is not enough for Lot to be the witness, but he must be the bawd also : « Bring forth these men that we may know his own rudeness and inability to reply in a good cause, when the very beast is enabled by God to convjnce his master? There i is no mouth into which God cannot put i words ; and how oft doth he choose the weak and unwise, to confound the learned and mighty ! What had it been better for the ass to see the angel, if he had rushed still upon his sword ? Evils were as good not seen, as not avoided ; but now he declines the way, and saves his burden. It were happy for perverse sinners, if they could learn of this beast to rim away from foreseen judgment. The revenging angel stands before us ; and though we know we shall as sure die as sin, yet we have not the wit or grace to give back, though it be with the hurf of a foot, to save the body ; with the pain of the body, to save the soul. I see what fury and stripes the impatient | prophet bestows upon this poor beast, \ because he will not go on : yet if he had | gone on, himself had perished. How o,ft I do we wish those things, the not obtaining | whereof is mercy ! We grudge to be stayed j in the way to death, and fly upon tjhpse ' which oppose our perdition. I do not, as who would not expeet, see Balaam's hair stand upright, nor himself alighting, and appalled at this monster of miracles ; but as if no new thing had hap- f2 :«4 OF* PfllNE A'S. '.[Book VII. opened, he returns words to the beast, full of anger, void of admiration. Whether his trade of sorcering had so inured liim to receive voices from his familiars in shape of beasts, that even this seemed not strange to him ; or whether his rage and covetous- 'ness had so transported him, that he had no leisure to observe the unnatural un- usualness of the event. Some men make nothing of those things, which overcome others with horror and astonishment. I hear the angel of God taking notice of the cruelty of Balaam to his beast ; his first words, to the unmerciful prophet, are in expostulation of his wrong. We little think it, but God shall call us to an ac count for the unkind and cruel usages of his poor mute creatures. He hath made us lords, not tyrants ; owners, not tormen tors ; he that hath given us leave to kill them for our use, hath not given us leave to abuse them at our pleasure : they are so our drudges, that they are our fellows by creation. It was a sign the magician would "] -"easily wish to strike Israel with a curse, when he wished a sword to strike his harm less beast. It is ill falling into those hands, whom beasts find unmerciful. Notwithstanding these rubs, Balaam goes on, and is not afraid to ride on that beast, whose voice he had heard. And now posts are sped to Balak, with the news of so welcome a guest ; he that sent princes to fetch him, comes himself on the way to" meet him. Although he can say, " Am not I able to promote thee ?" yet he gives this high respect to him as his better, from whom he expected the promotion of him self and his people. O the honour that hath been formerly done by heathens, to them that have borne but the face of prophets ! I shame and grieve to compare the times and men. Only, O God, be thou merciful to the contempt of thy servants ! As if nothing needed but the presence of Balaam, the superstitious king, out of the joy of this hope, feasts his gods, his prophet, his princes ; and, on the morrow, carries him up to the high places of his idols. Who can doubt whether Balaam were a false prophet, that sees him sacri ficing in the mount of Baal ? Had he been from the true God, he would rather have said, " Pull me down these altars of Baal, than build me here seven others." The very place convinces him of falsehood and idolatry. And why seven altars? what "needs all this pomp ? When the true God never required but one at once, as himself is one, why doth the false prophet call for no less than seven ? As if God stood upon . numbers ! as if the Almighty would have his power either divided or limited ! Here is nothing but a glorious and magnificent pretence of devotion. It hath been ever seen, that the false worshippers of God have made more pompous shows, and fairer flourishes of their piety and religion, than the true. Now, when Balaam sees his seven bul locks and seven rams smoking upon hfe seven altars, he goes up higher into the mount, as some counterfeit Moses, to re ceive the answer of God. But will God meet with a sorcerer ? will he make a pro phet of a magician ? O man ! who shall prescribe God what instruments to ' use ? He knows how to employ, not only saints and angels, but wicked men, beasts, devils, to his own glory. He that put words into the mouth of the ass, put words into the mouth of Balaam : the words do but pass j from him ; they are not polluted, because they are not his : as the trunk, through which a man speaks, is not more eloquent for the speech that is uttered through it. What a notable proclamation had the infidels wanted of God's favour to his people, if Balaam's tongue had not been used ! How many shall once say, " Lord, we have prophesied m thy name," that shall hear, " Verily, I know you not I" What madness is this in Balaam ? He that found himself constant in soliciting, thinks to find God not constant in deny ing ; and, as if that infinite Deity were not the same everywhere, hopes to change success with places. Neither is that bold forehead ashamed to importune God again, in that wherein his own mouth had testified an assurance of denial. The reward was in one of his eyes ; the revenging angel in the other: I know not whether (for the time) he more loved the bribe, or feared the angel. And, while he is in this dis traction, his tongue blesses against his heart, and his heart curses against his tongue. It angers him that he dare not speak what he would ; and now, at last, rather than loselhis hopes, he resolves to speak worse than curses. The fear of' God's judgment, in a worldly heart, is at length overcome with love of gain. CONTEMPLATION IV OF PHINEAS. Balaam pretended a haste homeward, but he lingered so long, that he left his bones in Midian, How justly did he perish with the sword of Israel, whose tongue had insensibly slain so many thousands of them ! Cont. III.] OF PHINEAS. Sft As it is usually said of the devil, that he goes away in a stench, so may it be truly said of this prophet of his, according to the fashion of all hypocrites, his words were good ; his actions abominable : he would not curse, but he would advise, and his counsel is worse than a curse ; for his curse had hurt none but himself; his coun sel cost the blood of twenty-four thousand Israelites. He that had heard God speak by Balaam, would not look for the devil in the same mouth : and if God himself had not witnessed against him, who could be lieve that the same tongue, which uttered so divine prophecies, should utter such villanous and cursed advice ? Hypocrisy gains this of men, that it may do evil un suspected : but now, he that heard what he spake in Balak's ear, hath bewrayed and condemned his counsel and himself. This policy was fetched from the bottom of hell. It is not for lack of desire that I curse not Israel; thou dost not more wish their destruction, than I do thy wealth and honour; but so long as they hold firm with God, there is no sorcery against Jacob : withdraw God from them, and they shall fall alone, and curse themselves ; draw them into sin, and thou shalt with draw God from them. There is no sin more plausible than wantonness. One for nication shall draw in another, and both shall fetch the anger of God after them : send your fairest women into their tents ; their sight shall draw them to lust, their lust to folly, their folly to idolatry ; and now God shall curse them for thee un asked. Where Balaam did speak well, there was never any prophet spake more divinely; where he spake ill, there was never any devil spake more desperately. Ill counsel seldom succeedeth not : good seed falls often out of the way, and roots not ; but the tares never light amiss. This project of the wicked magician was too prosperous. The daughters of Moab come into the tents of Israel, and have capti vated those whom the Amorites and the Amalekites could not resist Our first mother Eve bequeathed this dowry to her daughters, that they should be our helpers to sin : the weaker sex is the stronger in this conquest. Had the Moabites sent their subtilest counsellors to persuade the Israelites to their idol sacrifices, they had been repelled with scorn ; but now the beauty of their women is over-eloquent and successful. That which in the first world betrayed the sons of God, hath now ensnared God's people. It had been happy for Israel, if Balaam had used any charms but these. As it is the use of God to fetch glory to himself out of the worst actions of Satan, so it is the guise of that evil one, through the just permission of the Al mighty, to raise advantage to himself from the fairest pieces of the workmanship of God. No one means hath so much en riched hell as beautiful faces. All idols are abominable ; but this of Baal-peor was, besides the superstition of it, beastly: neither, did Baal ever put on a form of so much shame as this. Yet very Israelites are drawn to adore it. When lust hath blinded the eyes, it carries a man whither it lists ; even beyond all differences of sin. A man besotted with filthy desires, is fit for any villany. Sin is no less crafty than Satan himself: give him but room in the eye, and he will soon be possessed of body and soul. These Israelites first saw the faces of these Mo abites and Midianites; then they grew to like their presence ; from thence to take pleasure in their feasts ; from their boards they are drawn to their beds, from their beds to their idols ; and now they are joined to Baal-peor, and separated from God. Bodily fornication is the way to "spiritual, ff we have made idols of flesh, it is just to be given up to idols of wood and stones. If we have not grace to re sist the beginnings of sin, where shall we stay? If our foot slip into the mouth of hell, it is a miracle to stop ere we come to the bottom. Well might God be angry to see his people go a-whoring in this double forni cation ; neither doth he smother his wrath, but himself strikes with his plague, and bids Moses strike with the sword. He strikes the body, and bids Moses strike the head. It had been as easy for him to plague the rulers, as the vulgar ; and one would think these should be more properly re served for his immediate hand ; but these he leaves to the sword of human authority, that he might win awe to his own ordi nances. As the sins of great men are exemplary, so are their punishments. No thing procures so much credit to govern ment, as strict and impartial executions of great and noble offenders. Those whom their sins have embased, deserve no fa vour in the punishment. As God knows no honour, no royalty in matter of sin, no more may his deputies. Contrarily, con nivance at the outrages of the mighty cuts the sinews ofa state; neither doth any thing make good laws more contemptible, than. the making difference of offenders ; that, small sacrileges should be punished, when 88 OF PHINEAS. [Book VII. great ones ride in triumph- ff good or- ' dinatidris tuffl once to spider's webs; which afe broken through by the bigger flies, aa haiid will tear to sweep thettl down. God WaS angry ; Moses and all good Is raelites grieved : the heads hanged up, the people plagued. Yet behold, one of the princes of Israel fears Hot to brave God and his ministers, in that sin which he sees so grievously revenged in others. I can never Wonder enough at the impudence of this Israelite. Here is fornication, an odious Crime, and that of an Israelite, whose name Challenges holiness ; yea, of a prince of Is raeli whose practice is a rule to inferiors ; and that With a woman of Midian, with whom even a chaste contract had been unlawful ; arid that with contempt of all government; and that in the face of Mo ses, and all Israel ; and that ih a time' of mouriiing and judgment for that same offence. Those that have once passed the bounds Of modesty, soon grow shameless in their sins. While sin hides itself in cor ners, there is yet hope ; for where there is shame, there is a possibility of grace : but When once it dare look upon the sun, and send challenges to authority, the case is desperate, and ripe for judgment This great Simeonite thought he might Sin by privilege : he goes, as if he said, Who dares cbfitfol me? His nobility hath raised him above the reach of correction. Commonly the sins of the mighty are not without presumption, and therefore their vengeance is no less than their security : and their punishment is so much greater, as their conceit of impunity is greater. All Israel saw this bold lewdness of Zimi-i, but their hearts and eyes were so full Of grief, that they had not room enough for indigna tion. Phineas looked oh with the rest, but with other affections. When he saw this defiance bidden to God, and this in sultation upon the sorrow Of his !people (that while they were wringing their hands, a proud miscreant durst outface their hu miliation with his wicked dalliance), his heart boils with a desire of a holy revenge ; and now that hand, which was used to a censer and sacrificing knife, takes up his javelin, and, with one stroke, joins these two bodies in their death, which were joined in their sin, and, in the very fla- grance of their lust, makes a new way for their souls to their own place. O noble and heroical courage of Phineas ! which, as it was rewarded of God, so is worthy tb be admired of men. He doth not stand casting of scruples : Who am I to do this ? The son of the high priest. My place is all for peace and mercy ; it is for me to sacrifice, and pray for the sin of the people, not to sacrifice any of the people for their sin. My duty calls me to appease thfe anger of God what I may, not to revenge the sins of men ; to pray for their con version, not to work the confusion of any sinner. And who are these ? Is nbt the one a great prince in Israel^ the' other a princess of Midian ? Can the death of two" so famous persons go unrevenged? Of, if it be safe and fit, Why doth my uncle Moses rather shed his own tears than their blood? I will mourn with the rest ; let them re venge, whom it concerneth. But the zeal of God hath barred out all weak delibera tions ; and he holds it now both his duty and his glory, to be an executioner of so shameless a pair of offenders. God loves this heat of zeal in all the carriages of his servants : and if it tran sport us too far, he pardoneth the errors of our fervency, rather than the indiffer ences of lukewarmness. As these two were more beasts than any that ever he sacrificed, so the shedding of their blood was the acceptablest sacrifice that ever he offered unto God : for both all Israel is freed from the plague, and all his posterity have the priesthood entailed to them, so long as the Jews were a people. Next to our prayers, there is no better sacrifice than the blood of malefactors ; not as it is theirs, but as it is shed by authority; Governors are faulty of those sins they punish not. There can be no better sight in any state than to see a malefactor at the gallows. It is not enough for us to stand gazing upon the wickedness of the times, yea although With tears, unless we endeavour to redress it ; especially public persons carry not their javelin in their hand for nought. Every one is ready to ask Phineas for his commission : and those that are willing to salve up the act, plead extraordinary in stinct from God, who, no doubt, would not have accepted that which himself wrought not. But what need I run so far for this warrant, when I hear God say to Moses, "Hang up all the heads of Israel;" and Moses say to the under-rulers, " Every one slay his men that are joined to Baal-peor? " Every Israelite is now made a magistrate for this execution ; and why not Phineas amongst the rest? Doth his priesthood exempt him from the blood of sinners? How then doth Samuel hew Agag in pieces? Even those may make a carcase, which may not touch it. And if Levi got the priesthood by shedding the blood oi idolaters, why may it not stand with that Cont. IV.] THE DEATH OF MOSES. 87 priesthood to spill the blood of a fornicator and idolater ? Ordinary justice will bear out Phineas in this act. It is not for every man to challenge this office, which this double proclamation allowed to Phi neas. All that private persons can do, is either to lift up their hands to heaven for redress of sin ; or to lift up their hands against the sin, not against the person. " Who made thee a judge?" is a lawful question, if it meet with a person unwar ranted. Now the sin is punished, the plague ceaseth. The revenge of God sets out ' ever after the sin ; but if the revenge of men (which commonly comes later) can overtake it, God gives over the chase. How oft hath the infliction of a less punish ment avoided a greater ! There are none , so good friends to the state, as courageous and impartial ministers of justice : these are the reconcilers of God and the people, more than the prayers of them that sit still and do nothing. CONTEMPLATION V THE DEATH OF MOSES. After many painful and perilous enter prises, now is Moses drawing to his rest. He hath brought his Israelites from Egypt, through the sea and wilderness, within the sight of their promised land : and now him self must take possession of that land where of Canaan Was but a type. When we have done what we came for, it is time for us to be gone. This earth is only made for action, not for fruition. The services of God's children should be ill rewarded, if they must stay here always. Let no man think much, that those are fetched away which are faithful to God ; they should not change, if it were not to their prefer ment. It is our folly that we would have good men live for ever, and account it a hard measure that they were. He that lends them to the world, owes them a bet ter turn than this earth can pay them. It were injurious to wish, that goodness should hinder any man from glory. So is the death of God's saints precious, that it is certain. Moses must go up to mount Nebo and die. The time, the place, and every cir cumstance of his dissolution, is determined. That one dies in the field, another in his bed, another in the water, one in a foreign nation, another in his own, is fore-decreed in heaven. And though we hear it not vocally, yet God hath called every man by his name, and saith, Die thou there. One man seems to die casually, another by un expected violence : both fall by destiny ; and all is set down to us by an eternal de cree. He that brought us into the world, will carry us out according to his own pur poses. Moses must ascend up the hill to die. He received his charge for Israel upon the hill of Sinai ; and now he delivers up his charge on the hill of Nebo : his brother Aaron died on one hill, he on another. As Christ was transfigured on a hill, so was this excellent type of his : neither doubt I, but that these hills were types to them of that heaven whither they were aspiring. It is the goodness of our God, that he will not have his children die any where, but where they may see the land of promise before them : neither can they depart without much comfort, to have seen it : contrarily, a wicked man that looks down, and sees hell before him, how can he choose but find more horror in the end of death, than in the way ! How familiarly doth Moses hear of his end ! It is no more betwixt God and Moses, but Go up and die. If he had in vited him to a meal, it could not have been in a more sociable compellation : no other- ways than he said to his other prophet, Up and eat. It is neither harsh, nor news to God's children, to hear or think of their departure: to them, death hath lost his horror through acquaintance. Those faces which at first sight seemed ill-favoured, by oft viewing grow out of dislike : they have so oft thought and resolved of the neces sity, and of the issue of their dissolution, that they cannot hold it either strange or unwelcome. He that hath had such en tire conversation with God, cannot fear to go to him. Those that know him not, or know that he will not know them, no mar vel if they tremble. This is no small favour, that God warns Moses of his end. He that had so oft made Moses of his counsel what he meant to do with Israel, would not now do aught with himself without his knowledge. Ex pectation of any main event is a great advantage to a wise heart, ff the fiery chariot had fetched away Elias unlooked for, we should have doubted of the favour of his transportation : it is a token of judg ment, to come as a thief in the night. God forewarns one by sickness, another by age, another by his secret instincts, to prepare for their end. If our hearts be not now in a -readiness, we are worthy to be surprised. But what is this I hear? displeasure mixed with love, and that to so faithful a 88 THE DEATH OF MOSES. [Book VII. servant as Moses. He must but see the land of promise ; he shall not tread upon it ; because he once, long ago, sinned in distrusting. Death, though it were to him an entrance into glory, yet shall be also a chastisement of his infidelity. How many noble proofs had Moses given of his courage and strength of faith ! how many gracious services had he done to his master ! yet, for one act of distrust, he must be gathered to his fathers. All our obediences cannot bear out one sin against God. How vainly shall we hope to make amends to God for our former trespasses, by our better beha viour, when Moses hath this one sin laid in his dish, after so many and worthy tes timonies of his fidelity ! When we have forgotten our sins, yet God remembers them, and although not in anger, yet he calls for our arrearages. Alas ! what shall become of them with whom God hath ten thousand greater quarrels, that, amongst many millions of sins, have scattered some few acts of formal services ! ff Moses must die the first death for one fault, how shall they escape the second for sinning always ! Even where God loves, he will not wink at sin ; and if he do not punish, yet he will chastise. How much less can it stand with that eternal justice, to let wilful sinners es cape judgment ! It might have been just with God to have reserved the cause to himself; and, in a generality, to have told Moses, that his sin must shorten his journey ; but it is more of mercy than justice, that his children shall know why they smart ; that God may, at once, both justify himself and humble them for their particular offences. Those to whom he means vengeance, have not the sight of their sins, till they be past repentance. Complain not that God up braids thee with thy old sins, whosoever thou art : but know it is an argument of love; whereas concealment is a fearful sign of a secret dislike from God. But what was that noted sin which de serves this late exprobration, and shall carry so sharp a chastisement ? Israel murmured for water ; God bids Moses take the rod in his hand, and speak to the rock to give water : Moses, instead of speaking, and striking the rock with his voice, strikes it with his rod. Here was his sin ; an over reaching of his commission, a fearfulness and distrust of the effect. The rod, he knew, was approved for miracles: he knew not how powerful his voice might be ; therefore he did not speak, but strike, and be struck twice for failing ; and now, after these many years, he is stricken for it of God. It is a dangerous thing in divine matters to go beyond our warrant. Those sins, which seem trivial to men, are heinous in the account of God. Any thing that savours of infidelity, displeases him more than some other crimes of morality. Yet the moving of the rod was but a diverse thing from the moving of the tongue : it was not Contrary ; he did not forbid the one, but he commanded the other : this was but across the stream, not against it. Where shall they appear, whose whole courses are quite contrary to the Command ments of God ? Upon the act done, God passed the sen tence of restraining Moses, with the rest; from the promised land : now he performs it. Since that time, Moses had many favours from God; all which could not reverse this decreed castigation. That everlasting rule is grounded upon the very essence of God : I am Jehovah ; I change not. Our purposes are as ourselves, fickle and uncertain ; his are certain and immu table. Some things which he reveals, he alters ; nothing that he hath decreed. Be sides the soul of Moses, to the glory whereof God principally intended this change, I find him careful of two things ; his successor, and his body. Moses moves for the one ; the other God doth unasked. He that was so tender over the welfare of Israel, in his life, would not slacken his care in death. He takes no thought for himself, for he knew how gainful an exchange he must make. All his care is for his charge. Some envious natures desire to be missed when they must go, and wish that the weakness, or want of a successor, may be the foil of their memory and honour. Mo ses is in a contrary disposition ; it sufficeth him not to find contentment in his own happiness, unless he may have an assurance that Israel shall prosper after him. Carnal minds are all for themselves, and make use of government only for their own advan tages. But good hearts look ever to the future good of the Church, above their own, against their own. Moses did well, to show his good affection to his people ; but, in his silence, God would have pro vided for his own. He that called him from the sheep of Jethro, will not want a governor for his chosen to succeed him : God hath fitted him whom he will choose. Who can be more meet than he, whose name, whose experience, whose graces might supply, yea, revive Moses to the people ? He that searched the land before, was fittest to guide Israel into it. He, that was endued with the spirit of God, was the Cont. V.] THE DEATH OF MOSES. 89 fittest deputy for God. He, that abode still in the tabernacle of Ohel-moed, as God's attendant, was fittest to be sent forth from him, as his lieutenant. But O the unsearchable counsel of the Almighty ! Aged Caleb, and all the princes of Israel, are past over, and Joshua, the servant of Moses, is chosen to succeed his master. The eye of God is not blinded either with gifts, or with blood, or with beauty, or with strength ; but as in his eternal elections, so in his temporary, " He will have mercy on whom he will." And well doth Joshua succeed Moses. The very acts of God of old were allegories. Where the law ends, there the Saviour begins. We may see the land of promise in the law: only Jesus, the Mediator of the New Testament, can bring us into it. So was he a servant of the law, that he supplies all the defects of the law to us. He hath taken possession of the promised land for us : he shall carry us from this wilderness to our rest. It is no small happiness to any state, when their governors are chosen by wor thiness ; and such elections are ever from God ; whereas the intrusions of bribery, and unjust favour, or violence, as they make the commonwealth miserable, so they come from him which is the author of con fusion. Woe be to that state that suffers it ! woe be to that person that works it I for both of them have sold themselves, the one to servitude, the other to sin. I do not hear Moses repine at God's choice, and grudge that this sceptre of his is not hereditary ; but he willingly lays hands upon his servant, to consecrate him for his successor. Joshua was a good man, yet he had some sparks of envy ; for when Eldad and Medad prophesied, he stomached it: " My lord Moses, forbid them." He, that would not abide two of the elders of Israel to prophesy, how would he have allowed his servant to sit in his throne ? What an example of meekness, besides all the rest, doth he here see in this last act of his master, who, without all murmuring, resigns his chair of state to his page ? It is aU one, to a gracious heart, whom God will please to advance. Emulation and dis contentment are the affections of carnal minds. Humility goes ever with regenera tion ; which teaches a man to think, what ever honour be put upon others, I have more than I am worthy of. The same God, that, by the hands of his angels, carried up the soul of Moses to his glory, doth also, by the hands of his angels, carry his body down into the valley of Moab to his sepulture. Those hands which had taken the law from him, those eyes that had seen his presence, those lips that had conferred so oft with him, that face that did so shine with the beams of his glory, may not be neglected when the soul is gone. He that took charge of his birth, and preservation in the reeds, takes charge of his carriage out of the world. The care of Godceaseth not over his own, either in death, or after it. How justly do we take care of the comely burials of our friends, when God himself gives us this example ! If the ministry of man had been used in this grave of Moses, the place might have been known to the Israelites : but God purposely conceals this treasure, both from men and devils, that so he might both cross their curiosity, and prevent their supersti tion. If God had loved the adoration of his servants' reliques, he could never have had a fitter opportunity for this devotion, than in the body of Moses. It is folly to place religion in those things which God hides on purpose from us : it is not the property of the Almighty to restrain us from Yet that divine hand, which locked up this treasure, and kept the key of it, brought it forth afterwards glorious. In the trans figuration, this body, which was hid in the valley of Moab, appeared in the hill of Tabor, that we may know these bodies of ours are not lost, but laid up, and shall as sure be raised in glory, as they are laid down in corruption. " We know that when he shall appear we shall also appear with him in glory." BOOK VIII. CONTEMPLATION I OF RAHAB. Joshua was one of those twelve searchers which were sent to view the land of Ca naan; yet now he addresses two spies, for a more particular survey. Those twelve were only to inquire of the general condi tion ofthe people and land; these two to find out the best entrance into the next part of the country, and into their greatest city. Joshua himself was full of God's spirit, and had the oracle of God ready for his direc tion : yet now he goes not to the propitiatory for consultation, but to the spies. Except where ordinary means fail us, it is no ap pealing to the immediate help of God ; we may not seek to the postern, but where the 90 OF RAHAB. [Book VII. common gate is shut. It was promised Joshua, that he should lead Israel into the promised land ; yet he knew it was unsafe to presume. The condition of his provident care was included in that assurance of suc cess. Heaven is promised to us, but not to our carelessness, infidelity, disobedience. He that hath set this blessed inheritance before us, presupposes our wisdom, faith, holiness. Either force or policy is fit to be used unto Canaanites. He that would be happy in this spiritual warfare, must know where the strength of his enemy lieth; and must frame his guard according to the other's assault. It is a great advantage to a Chris tian to know the fashion of Satan's onsets, that he may the more easily compose him self to resist. Many a soul hath miscarried through the ignorance of his enemy, which had not perished, if it had well known that the weakness of Satan stands in our faith. The spies can find no other lodging but Rahab's house. She was a victualler by profession, and (as those persons and trades, by reason of the commonness of entertain ment, were amongst the Jews infamous by name and note) she was Rahab the harlot. I will not think she professed fllthiness; only her public trade, through the corrup tion of those times, hath cast upon her this name of reproach: yea, rather will I admire her faith, than make excuses for her calling. How many women in Israel (now Miriam was dead) have given such proofs of their knowledge and faith ! How noble is that confession which she makes of the power and truth of God! Yea, I see here not only a disciple of God but a prophetess. Or, if she had once been public, as her house was, now she is a chaste and worthy convert ; and so approved herself for honest and wise behaviour, that she is thought worthy to be the great grandmother of David's father: and -the holy line of the Messias is not ashamed to admit her into that happy pedigree. The mercy of our God doth not measure us by what we were. It would be wide with the best of us, if the eye of God should look backward to our former estate; there heshouldsee Abra ham an idolater; Paul a persecutor; Ma- nasses a necromancer; Mary Magdalen a courtezan ; and the best vile enough to be ashamed of himself. Who can despair of mercy, that sees even Rahab fetched into the blood of Israel, and line of Christ ! If Rahab had not received these spies, but as unknown passengers, with respect to their money, and not to their errand, it had been no praise ; for in such cases, the thank is rather to the guest than to the host. But now she knew their purpose ; she knew that the harbour of them was the danger of her own life; and yet she hazards this entertainment. Either faith or friend ship is never tried, but in extremities. To show countenance to the messengers of God, while the public face of the state smiles upon them, is but a courtesy of course; but to hide our own lives in theirs, when they are persecuted, is an act that looks for a reward. These times need not our favour ; we know not what may come. Alas ! how likely is it they would shelter them in danger, which respect them not in prosperity ! All intelligences of state come first to the court. It most concerns princes to hearken after the affairs of each other. If this poor inn-holder knew of the sea dried up before Israel, and of the discomfiture of Og and Sihon ; surely this rumour was stale with the king of Jericho : he had heard it, and feared; and yet, instead of sending am bassadors for peace, he sends pursuivants for the spies. The spirit of Rahab melted with that same report, wherewith the king of Jericho was hardened. All make not one use of the messages of the proceedings The king sends to tell her what she knew; she had not hid them, if she had not known their errand. I know not whether first to wonder at the gracious provision of God for the spies, or at, the strong faith which he wrought in the heart of a weak woman. Two strangers, Is raelites, spies (and noted for all these), in a foreign, in a hostile land, have a safe harbour provided them even amongst their enemies ; in Jericho, at the very court-gate, against the proclamation of a king, against the endeavours of the people. Where can not the God of heaven either find, or raise up friends, to his own causes and servants? Who could have hoped for such faith in Rahab? which contemned her life for the present, that she might save it for the future ; neglected her own king and coun try, for strangers which she never saw; and more feared the destruction of that city, before it knew that it had an adver sary, than the displeasure of her king, in the mortal revenge of that which he would have accounted treachery. She brings them up to the roof of her house, and hides them with stalks of flax. That plant, which was made to hide the body from nakedness and shame, now is used to hide the spies from death. Never could these stalks have been improved so well with all her housewifery, Cont. I.] OF RAHAB. 91 after they were bruised, as now, before they were fitted to her wheel : of these she hath woven an everlasting web, both of life and propagation. And now her tongue hides them no less than her hand. Her charity was good, her excuse was not good. " Evil may not be done, that good may come of it ;" we may do any thing, but sin, for pro moting a good cause : and, if not in so main occasions, how shall God take it, that we are not dainty of falsehoods in trifles ? No man will look that these spies could take any sound sleep in these beds of stalks : it is enough for them that they live, though they rest not. And now, when they hear Rahab coming up the stairs," doubtless they looked for an executioner ; but behold, she comes up with a message better than their sleep, .adding to their protection advice for their future safety ; whereto she makes way by a faithful report of God's former wonders, and the present disposition of her people ; and by wise capitulations for the life and security of her family. The news of God's miraculous proceedings for Israel have made her resolve of their success, and the ruins of Jericho. Then only do we make a right use of the works of God, when, by his judgments upon others, we are warned to avoid our own. He intends his acts for precedents of justice. The parents and brethren of Rahab take their rest ; they are not troubled with the fear and care of the success of Israel, but securely go with the current ofthe present condition. She watches for them all ; and breaks her midnight sleep, to prevent their last. One wise and faithful person does well in a house : where all are careless, there is no comfort but in perishing together. It had been an ill nature in Rahab, if she had been content to be saved alone. That her love might be a match to her faith, she covenants for all her family, and so returns life to those of whom she received it. Both the bond of nature and of grace will draw all ours to the participation of the same good with ourselves. It had been never the better for the spies, if, after this night's lodging, they had been turned out of doors to the hazard of the way ; for so the pursuers had lighted upon them, and prevented their return with their death. Rahab's counsel therefore was better than her harbour ; which sent them (no doubt with victuals in their hands) to seek safety in the mountains, till the heat of that search were past. He that hath given us charge of our lives, will not suffer us to cast them upon wilful adventures. Had not these spies hid themselves in those desert hills, Israel had wanted directors for their enterprises. There is nothing more expedient for the church, than that some of God's faithful messengers should with draw themselves, and give way to persecu tions. Courage, in those that must die, is not a greater advantage to the gospel, than a prudent retiring of those, which may sur vive, to maintain and propagate it. It was a just and reasonable transaction betwixt them, that her life should be saved by them which had saved theirs : they owe no less to her, to whom they were not so much guests as prisoners. And now they pass not their promise only, but their oath. They were strangers to Rahab, and, for aught she knew, might have been godless ; yet she dares trust her life upon their oath. So sacred and inviolable hath this bond ever been, that a heathen woman thought her self secure upon the oath of an Israelite. Neither is she more confident of their oath taken, than they are careful both of taking and performing it. So far are they from desiring to salve up any breach of promise by equivocation, that they explain all conditions, and would prevent all pos sibilities of violation. All Rahab's family must be gathered into her house ; and that red cord, which was an instrument of their delivery, must be a sign of hers. Behold, , this is the saving colour! the destroying angel sees the door-cheeks of the Israelites sprinkled with red, and passes them over. The warriors of Israel see the window of Rahab dyed with red, and save her family from the common destruction, ff our souls have this tincture of the precious blood of our Saviour upon our doors or windows, we are safe. But if any one of the brethren of Rahab shall fly from this red flag, and rove about the city, and not contain himself under that roof which hid the spies, it is in vain for him to tell the avengers that he is Ra hab's brother. That title will not save him in the street — within doors it will. If we will wander out of the hmits that God hath set us, we cast ourselves out of his protection. We cannot challenge the benefit of his gracious preservation, and our most precious redemption, when we fly out into the bye-ways of our own hearts, not for innocence, but for safety and har bour. The church is that, house of Rahab which is saved, when all Jericho shall perish. While we keep us in the fists thereof, we cannpt miscarry through mis- opinion ; but, when once we run out of it, let us look for judgment from God, and error in our own judgment. 93 JORDAN DIVIDED. [Book VIII. CONTEMPLATION II. — 'JORDAN DIVIDED. The two spies returned with news of the victory that should be. I do not hear them say, The land is unpeopled ; or the people are unfurnished with arms, unskil ful in the discipline of war ; but, " They faint because of us, therefore their land is ours." Either success, or discomfiture, begins ever at the heart. A man's inward disposition doth more than presage the event. As a man raises up his own heart before his fall, and depresses it before his glory ; so God raises it up before his exal tation, and casts it down before his ruin. It is no otherwise in our spiritual conflicts. If Satan sees us once faint, he gives him self the day. There is no way to safety, but that our hearts be the last that shall yield. That which the heathens attributed to fortune, we may justly to the hand of God, that he speedeth those that are for ward. All the ground that we lose, is given to our adversaries. This news is brought but over night; Joshua is on his way by morning, and pre vents the sun for haste. Delays, whether in the business of God or our own, are hateful and prejudicial. Many a one loses the land of promise by lingering. If we neglect God's time, it is just with him to cross us in ours. Joshua hastens till he has brought Israel to the verge of the promised land : nothing parts them now but the river of Jordan. There he stays a time, that the Israelites might feed themselves a while with the sight of that which they should afterwards enjoy. That which they had been forty years in seeking, may not be seized upon too suddenly. God loves to give us cools and heats in our desires ; and will so allay our joys, that their fruition hurt us not. He knows, that as it is in meats, the long forbearance whereof causes a surfeit when we come to full feed ; so it fares in the contentments of the mind: therefore he feeds us not with the dish, but with the spoon, and will have us neither cloyed nor famished. If the mercy of God have brought us within sight of heaven, let us be content to pause a while, and, upon the banks of Jordan, fit ourselves for our en trance. Now that Israel is brought to the brim of Canaan, the cloud is vanished which led them all the way; and, as soon as they have but crossed Jordan, the manna ceas- eth, which nourished them all the way. The cloud and manna were for their pas sage, not for their rest ; for the wilderness, not for Canaan. It were as easy for God to work miracles always ; but he knows that custom were the way to make them no miracles. He goes bye- ways but till he have brought us into the road, and then he refers us to his ordinary proceedings. That Israelite should have been very fool ish, that would still have said, I will not stir till I see the cloud ; I will not eat, un less I may have that food of angels. Where fore serves the ark, but for their direction? wherefore serves the wheat of Canaan, but for bread ? So fond is that Christian, that will still depend upon expectation of mi racles, after the fulness of God's kingdom. ff God bear us in his arms when we are children, yet when we are well grown, he looks we should go on our feet: it is enough that he upholds us, though he carry us not. He, that hitherto had gone before them in the cloud, doth now go before them in the ark ; the same guide in two diverse signs of his presence. The cloud was for Moses', the ark for Joshua's time. The cloud was fit for Moses ; the law offered us Christ, but enwrapped in many obscu rities. If he were seen in the cloud, he was heard from the cover of the ark. Why was it the ark ofthe testimony, but because it witnessed both his presence and love ? and within it were his word the law, and his sacrament the manna. Who can wish a better guide than the God of heaven, in his word and sacraments ? Who can know the way into the land of promise so well as he that owns it ? and what means can better direct us thither than those of his institution? That ark, which before was as the heart, is now as the head: it was in the midst of Israel, while they camped in the desert; now, when the cloud is removed, it is in the front of the army ; that, as before they depended upon it for life, so now they should for direction. It must go before them on the shoulders of the sons of Levi : they must follow it, but within sight, not within breathing. The Levites may not touch the ark, but only the bars: the Is raelites may not approach nearer than a thousand paces to it. What awful respects doth God require to be given unto the testimonies of his presence! Uzzah paid dear, for touching it ; the men of Bethshe- mesh for looking into it. It is a dangerous thing to be too bold with the ordinances of God. Though the Israelites were sanc tified, yet they might not come near either the mount of Sinai, when the law was de livered, or the ark ofthe covenant, wherein Cont. IL] JORDAN DIVIDED. 93 the law was written. How fearful shall their estate be, that come with unhallowed hearts and hands to the word of the gospel, and the true manna of the evangelical sa crament ? As we use to say of the court, and of fire, so may we of these divine in stitutions, — We freeze, if we be far off from them ; and if we be more near than befits us, we burn. Under the law, we might look at Christ aloof; now, under the gospel, we may come near him : he calls us to him ; yea, he enters into us. Neither was it only for reverence that the ark must be not stumbled at, but waited on afar ; but also for convenience, both of sight and passage. Those things that are near us, though they be less, fill our eye ; neither could so many thousand eye* see the same object Upon a level, but by dis tance. It would not content God, that one Israelite should telt another. Now the ark goes, now it turns, now it stands ; but he would have every one his own witness. What can be so comfortable to a good heart, as to see the pledges of God's pre sence and favour ? To heat of the loving- kindnesses of God is pleasant ; but to be hold and feel the evidences of his mercy is unspeakably delectable. Hence the saints of God, not contenting themselves with faith, have still prayed for sight and frui tion, and mourned when they have wanted it. What a happy prospect hath God set before us of Christ JesUs crucified for us, and offered unto us I Ere God will work a miracle before Is rael, ' they have charge to be sanctified. There is a holiness required, to make us either patients or beholders of the great works of God ; how much more, when we should be actors in his sacred services ! There is more use of sanctification when we must present something to God, than when he must do aught to us. The same power that divided the Red Sea before Moses, divides Jordan before Joshua, that they might see the ark no less effectual than the cloud ; and the hand of God as present with Joshua to bring them into Canaan, as it was with Moses to bring them out of Egypt. The bearers of the ark had need be faithful ; they must first set their foot into the streams of Jordan, and believe that it will give way; the same faith that led Peter upon the water, must carry them into it. There can be no Chris tian without belief in God ; but those that are near to God in his immediate services, must go before others, no less in believing, than they do in example. The waters know their Maker. That Jordan, that flowed with full streams when Christ went into it to be baptized, now gives way, when the same God must pass through it in state. Then there was use of his water, now of his sand. I hear no news of any rod to strike the waters ; the presence of the ark ofthe Lord God, the Lord of all the world, is sign enough to these waves, which now, as if a sinew were broken, run back to their issues, and dare not so much as wet the feet of the priests that bore it. " What ailed thee, O sea, that thou fleddest, and thou Jordan, that thou wert driven back ? Ye mountains, that ye leaped like rams, and ye little hills, like lambs? The earth trembled at the pre sence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob !" How observant are all the creatures to the God that made them! How glorious a God do we serve, whom all the powers of the heavens and elements are willingly subject unto, and gladly take that nature which he pleases to give them ! He could have made Jordan like some solid pavement of crystal, for the Israelites' feet to have trode upon ; but this work had not been so magnificent. Every strong frost congeals the water, in a natural force, but for the river to stand still, and run on heaps, and to be made a liquid wall for the passage of God's people, is for nature to run out of itself, to do homage to her Crea tor. Now must the Israelites needs think, how can the Canaanites stand out against us, when. the seas and rivers give us way? With what joy did they now trample upon the dry channel of Jordan, while they might see the dry deserts overcome, the promised land before them, the very waters so glad of them that they ran back to wel come them into Canaan ! The passages into our promised land are troublesome and perilous, and even at last offer them selves to us the main hindrances of our sal vation, which, after all our hopes, threaten to defeat us : for what will it avail us to have passed a wilderness, if the waves of Jordan should swallow us up ? But the same hand that hath made the way hard, hath made it sure ; he that made the wil derness comfortable, will make Jordan dry: he will master all difficulties for us ; and those things which we most feared, will he make most sovereign and beneficial to us. O God! as we have trusted thee with the beginning, , so will we with the finishing of our glory! Faithful art thou that hasf promised, which wilt also do it ! He that led them about, in forty years' journey through the wilderness, yet now leads them the nearest cut to Jericho ; he 94 THE SIEGE OF JERICHO. [Book VIII. will not so much as seek for a ford for their passage, but divides the waters, What a sight was this to their heathen adversaries, to see the waters make both a lane and a wall for Israel ! Their hearts could not choose but be broken, to see the streams broken off for a way to their enemies. I do not see Joshua hastening through this channel, as if he feared lest the tide of Jordan should return ; but, as knowing that watery wall stronger than the walls of Je richo, he paces slowly ; and, lest this mi racle should pass away with themselves, he commands twelve stones to be taken out of the channel of Jordan by twelve select ed men from every tribe, which shall be pitched in Gilgal : and twelve other stones to be set in the midst of Jordan, where the feet of the priests had stood with the ark ; that so both land and water might testify the miraculous way of Israel : while it should be said of the one, These stones were fetched out of the pavement of Jor dan ; of the other, there did the ark rest, while we walked dry-shod the deeps of Jordan : of the one, Jordan was once as dry as this Gilgal ; of the other, Those waves which drown these stones, had so drowned us, if the power of the Almighty had not restrained them. Many a great work had God done for Israel, which was now forgotten : Joshua therefore will have monuments of God's mercy, that future ages might be both witnesses and applau- ders ofthe great works of their God. CONTEMPLATION III THE SIEGE OF JERICHO. Joshua begins his wars with the circum cision and passover ; he knew that the way to keep the blood of his people from shed ding, was to let out that paganish blood of their uncircumcision. The person must be in favour, ere the work can hope to pro sper. His predecessor Moses had like to have been slain for neglect of this sacra ment, when he went to call the people out •of Egypt : he justly fears his own safety, if now he omit it, when they are brought into Canaan. We have no right of inheri tance in the spiritual Canaan, the church of God, till we have received the sacrament of our matriculation. So soon as our co venants are renewed with our Creator, we may well look for the vision of God for the assurance of victory. What sure work did the king of Jericho think he had made ! He blocked up. the passages, barred up the gates, defended the walls, and did enough to keep out a com mon enemy, ff we could do but this to our spiritual adversaries, ft were as impos sible for us to be surprised, as for Jericho to be safe. Methinks I see how they called their council of war, debated of all means of defence, gathered their forces, trained their soldiers, set strong guards to the gates and walls ; and now would persuade one another, that, unless Israel could fly into their city, the siege was vain. Vain world lings think their rampires and barricadoes can keep out the vengeance of God ; their blindness suffers them to look no further than the means. The supreme hand of the Almighty comes not within the com pass of their fears. Every carnal heart is a Jericho shut up ; God sits down before it, and displays mercy and judgment in sight ofthe walls thereof: it hardens itself in a wilful security, and saith, " Tush, I shall never be moved." Yet their courage and fear fight together within their walls, within their bosoms. Their courage tells them of their own strength ; their fear suggests the miracu lous success of this (as they could not but think) enchanted generation ; and now, while they have shut out their enemy, they have shut in their own terror. The most secure heart in the world hath some flashes of fear ; for it cannot but sometimes look out of itself, and see what it would not. Rahab had notified that their hearts faint ed; and yet now their faces bewray nothing but resolution. I know not whether the heart or the face of a hypocrite be more false ; and as each of them seeks to beguile the other, so both of them agree to deceive the beholders. In the midst of laughter, their heart is heavy. Who would not think him merry that laughs ? yet their re joicing is but in the face. Who would not think a blasphemer, or profane man, reso lutely careless ? If thou hadst a window into his heart, thou shouldst see him tor mented with horrors of conscience. Now the Israelites see those walled cities and towers, whose height was re ported to reach to heaven, the fame where of had so affrighted them, ere they saw them, and were ready, doubtless, to say, in their distrust, Which way shall we scale these invincible fortifications? what lad ders, what engines, shall we use to so great a work? God prevents their infidelity; " Behold, I have given Jericho into thine hand." If their walls had their foundations laid in the centre of the earth ; if the bat tlements had been so high built, that an eagle could not soar over them ; this is enough, " I have given it thee." For, on Cont. III.] THE SIEGE OF JERICHO. M whose earth have they raised these castles? out of whose treasure did they dig those piles of stone? whence had they their strength and time to build? Cannot he that gave, recall his own ? O ye fools of Jericho ! what if your walls be strong, your men valiant, your leaders skilful, your king wise, when God hath said, " I have given thee the city !" What can swords or spears do against the Lord of hosts ! Without him means can do nothing ; how much less against him ! How vain and idle is that reckoning, wherein God is left out ! Had the captain of the Lord's host drawn his sword for Jericho, the gates might have been opened ; Israel could no more have entered, than they can now be kept from entering when the walls were fallen. What courses soever we take for our safety, it is good making God of our side. Neither men nor devils can hurt us against him ; neither men nor angels can secure us from him. There was never so strange a siege as this of Jericho : here was no mount raised, no sword drawn, no engine planted, no pioneers undermining ; here were trum pets sounded, but no enemy seen ; here were armed men, but no stroke given : they must walk and not fight ; seven se veral days must they pace about the walls, which they may not once lqok over, to see what was within. Doubtless these inha bitants of Jericho made themselves merry with this sight : when they had stood six days upon their walls, and beheld none but a walking enemy ; What, say they, could Israel find no walk to breathe them with, but about our walls ? Have they not tra velled enough in their forty years' pilgrimage, but they must stretch their limbs in this circle ? Surely if their eyes were engines, our wall could not stand : we see they are good footmen ; but when shall we try their hands ? What, do these vain men think Jericho will be won with looking at ? or do they only come to count how may paces it is about our city ? If this be their man ner of siege, we shall have no great cause to fear the sword of Israel. Wicked men think God in jest, when he is preparing for their judgment. The Almighty hath ways and counsels of his own, utterly unlike to ours ; which, because our reason cannot reach, we are ready to condemn as foolish ness and impossibility. With us, there is no way to victory but fighting, and the strongest carries the spoil : God can give victory to the feet, as well as to the hands ; and, when he will, makes weakness no dis advantage. What should we do but follow God tlirough by-ways, and know that he will, in spite of nature, lead us to our end ? All the men of war must compass the city ; yet it was not the presence of the great warriors of Israel that threw down the walls of Jericho. Those foundations were not so slightly laid, as that they could not endure either a look, or a march, or a battery. It was the ark of God whose presence demolished the walls of that wicked city. The same power that drave back the waters of Jordan before, and after wards laid Dagon on the floor, cast down all those forts. The priests bear on their shoulders that mighty engine of God, be fore which those walls, if they had been of molten brass, could not stand. Those spiritual wickednesses, yea, those gates of hell, which to nature are utterly invincible, by the power of the word of God (which he hath committed to the carriage of his weak servants) are overthrown, and tri umphed over. Thy ark, O God, hath been long amongst us ; how is it that the walls of our corruptions stand still unruined ? It hath gone before us, his priests have carried it : we have not followed it, our hearts have not attended it; and therefore, how mighty soever it is in itself, yet to us it hath not been so powerful as it would. Seven days together they walked this round ; they made this, therefore, their Sabbath-day's journey; and who knows whether the last and longest walk, which brought victory to Israel, were not on this day? Not long before, an Israelite is stoned to death, for but gathering a few sticks that day : now, all the host of Israel must walk about the walls of a large and populous city, and yet do not violate the day. God's precept is the rule of the justice and ho liness of all our actions. Or was it, for that revenge upon God's enemies is a holy work, and such as God vouchsafes to pri vilege with his own day? or because, when we have undertaken the exploits of God, he will abide no intermission till we have fulfilled them? He allows us to breathe, not to break off, till we have finished. It had been as easy for God to have given this success to their first day's walk ; yea to their first pace, or their first sight of Sfericho ; yet he will not give it, untiHhe end of their seven days' toil. It is the plea sure of God to hold us both in work, and in expectation ; and though he require our continual endeavours for the subduing of our corruptions, during the six days of our life, yet we shall never find it perfectly ef fected till the very evening of our last day, In the meantime, it must content us that we are in our walk, and that these walls cannot stand, when we come to the .-mea sure and number of our perfection. A 96 THE SIEGE OF JERICHO. [Book VIII. good heart groans under the sense of his infirmities, fain would be rid of them, and strives and prays : but when he hath all done, until the end of the seventh day it cannot be. ff a stone or two moulder off from these walls, in the meantime, that is all ; but the foundations will not be re moved till then. When we hear of so great a design as the miraculous winning of a mighty city, who would not look for some glorious means to work it? When we hear that the ark of God must besiege Jericho, who would not look for some royal equipage ? But behold, here seven priests must go be fore it, with seven trumpets of ram's horns. The Israelites had trumpets of silver, which God had appointed for the use of assem bling and dissolving the congregation, for war, and for peace : now I do not hear them called for ; but instead thereof, trum pets of rams' horns, base for the matter, and not loud for sound; the shortness and equal measure of those instruments could not afford either shrillness of noise, or va riety. How mean and homely are those means which God commonly uses in the most glorious works ! No doubt the citizens of Jericho answered this dull alarm of theirs from their walls with other instruments of louder report and more martial ostentation : and the vulgar Israelites thought, we have as clear and as costly trumpets as theirs ; yet no man dares offer to sound the better, when the worse are commanded, ff we find the ordinances of God poor and weak, let it content us that they are of his own choosing, and such as whereby he will so much more honour himself, as they in themselves are more inglorious. Not the outside, but the efficacy, is it that God cares for. No ram of iron could have been so for cible for battery, as these rams' horns : for when they sounded long, and were secon ded with the shout of the Israelites, all the walls of Jericho fell down at once. They made the heavens ring with their shout : but the ruin of those walls drowned their voice, and gave a pleasant kind of horror to the Israelites. The earth shook under them with the fall ; but the hearts of the inhabitants shook yet more. Many of them, doubtless, were slain with those walls wherein they had trusted. A man might see death in the faces of all the rest that remained, who now, being half dead with astonishment, expected the other half from the sword of their enemies. They had now neither means nor will to resist ; for if only one breach had been made (as it uses in other sieges) for the entrance of the enemy, perhaps new supplies of defen dants might have made it up with their carcases : but now that, at once, Jericho is' turned to a plain field, every Israelite, without resistance, might run to the next booty ; and the throats of their enemies seemed to invite their swords to a despatch. ff but one Israelite had knocked at the gates of Jericho, it might have been thought their hand had helped to the victory. Now, that God may have all the glory, without the shdw of any rival, yea, of any means, they do but walk and shout, and the walls give way. He cannot abide to part with any honour from himself. As he doth all things, so he would be acknowledged. They shout all at once. It is the pre sence of God's ark, and our conjoined prayers, that are effectual to the beating down of wickedness. They may not shout till they be bidden. If we will be unseat sonable in our good actions, we may hurt, and not benefit ourselves. Every living thing in Jericho — man, wo man, child, cattle — must die. Our folly- would think this merciless ; but there can be no mercy in injustice, and nothing but injustice in not fulfilling the charge of God. The death of malefactors, the condem nation of wicked men, seem harsh to us ; but we must learn of God, that there is a punishing mercy. Cursed be that mercy that opposes the God of mercy. Yet was not Joshua so intent upon the slaughter, as not to be mindful of God's part and Rahab's. First, he gives charge, under a curse, of reserving all the treasure for God ; then of preserving the family of Rahab. Those two spies that received life from her, now return it to her, and hers : they call at the window with the red cord, and send up news of life to her, the same way which they received theirs. Her house is no . part of Jericho : neither may fire be set to any building of that city, till Rahab and her family be set safe without the host. The actions of our faith and charity will be sure to pay us ; if late, yet surely. Now Rahab finds what it is to be lieve God; while out of an impure idola trous city, she is transplanted into the church of God, and made a mother of a royal and holy posterity. CONTEMPLATION IV. ^-OF ACHAN. When the walls of Jericho were fallen, Joshua charged the Israelites but with two precepts : of sparing Rahab's house, and ot Cont. IV.]' OF ACHAN. 97 abstaining from that treasure which was anathematized to God: and one of them is broken ; as in the entrance to paradise, but one tree was forbidden, and that was eaten of. God had provided for our weak ness in the paucity of commands ; but our innocency stands not so much in having few precepts, as in keeping those we have. So much more guilty are we in the breach of the one, as we are more favoured in the number. They needed no command to spare no living thing in Jericho ; but to spare the treasure, no command was enough. Im partiality of execution is easier to perform, than contempt of these worldly things ; be cause we are more prone to covet for our selves, than to pity others . Had Joshua bidden save the men, and divide the trea sure, his charge had been more plausible, than now to kill the men and save the treasure; or, if they must kill, earthly minds would more gladly shed their ene mies' blood for a booty, than out of obe dience, for the glory of their Maker. But now it is good reason, since God threw down those walls, and not they, that both the blood of that wicked city should be spilt to him, not to their own revenge ; and that the treasure should be reserved for his use, not for theirs. Who but a miscreant can grudge that God should serve himself of his own? I cannot blame the rest of Is rael, if they were well pleased with their conditions ; only one Achan troubles the peace, and his sin is imputed to Israel. The innocence of so many thousand Is raelites is not so forcible to excuse his one sin, as his one sin is to taint all Israel. A lewd man is a pernicious creature : that he damns his own soul, is the least part of his mischief; he commonly draws vengeance upon a thousand, either by the desert of his sin, or by the infection. Who would not have hoped that the same God, which for ten righteous men would have spared the five wicked cities, should not have been content to drown one sin in the obedience of so many righteous ? But so venomous is sin, especially when it lights among God's people, that one drachm of it is able to infect the whole mass of Israel. O righteous people of Israel, that had but one Achan! How had their late cir cumcision cut away the unclean foreskin of their disobedience ! How had the blood of their paschal lamb scoured their souls from covetous desires ! The world was well , mended with them, since their stubborn murmurings in the desert. Since the death pf Moses, and the government of Joshua, I do not find them in any disorder. After that the law hath brought us under the conduct of the true Jesus, our sins are more rare, and ourselves are mdre con- scionablei While we are under the law, we do not so keep it, as when we are de livered from it: our Christian freedom is more holy than our servitude. Then have the sacraments of God their due effect, when their receipt purgeth us from our old sins, and makes our conversation clean and spiritual. Little did Joshua know that there was any sacrilege committed by Israel. That sin is not half cunning enough that hath not learned secrecy. Joshua was a vigilant leader, yet some sins will escape him. Only that eye which is every where, finds us out in our close wickedness. It is no blame to authority that some sins are se cretly committed : the holiest congregation or family may be blemished with some male factors! It is just blame, that open sins are not punished : we shall wrong government, if we shall expect the reach of it should be infinite. He therefore, which, if he had known the offence, would have sent up prayers and tears to God, now sends spies for a further disco very .of Ai; they return with news of the weakness of their adver saries; and, as contemning their paucity, persuade Joshua, that a wing of Israel is enough to overshadow this city of Ai. The Israelites were so flushed with their former victory, that now they think no walls or men can stand before them. Good success lifts up the heart with too much confidence ; and, while it dissuades men from doing their best, ofttimes disappoints them. With God, the mean can never be too weak ; without him, never strong enough. It is not good to contemn an impotent enemy. In this second battle the Israelites are beaten. It was not the fewness of their assailants that overthrew them, but the sin that lay lurking at home. If all the host of Israel had set upon this poor village of Ai, they had been all equally discom fited : the wedge of Achan did more fight against them, than all the swords of the Canaanites. The victories of God go not by strength, but by innocence. Doubtless these men of Ai insulted in this foil of Israel, arid said, Lo, these are the men, from whose presence the waters of Jordan ran back ; now they run as fast away from ours. These are they, before whom the walls of Jericho fell down; now they are fallen as fast before us. And all their neighbours took heart from this vie? tory. Wherein, I douht not but, besides G '98 OF ACHAN. the punishment of Israel's sin, God intended the further obduration of the Canaanites : like as some skilful player loses on purpose at the beginning of the game, to draw on the more abetments. The news of their overthrow spread as far as the fame of their speed ; and every city of Canaan could say, Why not we as well as Ai ? But good Joshua, that succeeded Moses, no less in the care of God's glory than in his government, is much dejected with this event. He rends his clothes, falls on his face, casts dust upon his head, and, as if he had learned of his master how to expos tulate with God, says, " What wilt thou do to thy mighty name ?" That Joshua might see God took no pleasure to let the Israelites lie dead upon the earth before their enemies, himself is taxed for but lying all day upon his face, before the ark. All his expostulations are answered in one word : " Get thee up ; Israel hath sinned." I do not hear God say, Lie still, and mourn for the sin of Israel. It is to no purpose to pray against punishment, while the sin continues. And though God loves to be sued to, yet he holds our requests unseasonable, till there be care had of satisfaction. When we have risen, and redressed sin, then may we fall down for pardon. Victory is in the free hand of God, to dispose where he will ; and no man can marvel, that the dice of war run ever with hazard on both sides : so as God needed not to have given any other reason of this discomfiture of Israel, but his own pleasure ; yet Joshua must now know, that Israel, which before prevailed for their faith, is beaten for their sin. When we are crossed in just and holy quarrels, we may well think there is some secret evil, unrepented of, which God would punish in us ; which, though we see not, yet he so hates, that he will rather be wanting to his own cause, than not revenge it. When we go about any enterprise of God, it is good to see that our hearts be clear from any pollution of sin ; and when we are thwarted in our hopes, it is our best course to ransack our selves, and to search for some sin hid from us in our bosom, but open to the view of God. The oracle of God, which told .him a great offence was committed, yet reveals not the person. It had been as easy for him to have named the man, as the crime. Neither doth Joshua request it ; but refers that discovery to such a means, as whereby the offender, finding himself singled out by the lot, might be most convinced. Achan [Book VIll. thought he might have lain as close in all that throng of Israel, as the wedge of gold lay in his tent. The same hope of secrecy, which moved him to sin, moved him to confidence in his sin : but now, when he saw the lot fall upon his tribe, he began to start a little ; when upon his family, he began to change countenance ; when upon his household, to tremble and fear ; when upon his person, to be utterly confounded in himself. Foolish men think to run away with their privy sins, and say, Tush, no eye shall see me ; but, when they think themselves safest, God pulls them out with shame. The man that hath escaped justice, and now is lying down in death, would think, My shame shall never be disclosed; but, before men and angels, shall he be brought on the scaffold, and find confusion as sure as late. What needed any other evidence, when God had accused Achan? Yet Joshua will have the sin out of his mouth, in whose heart it was hatched: " My son, I beseech thee, give glory to God." Whom God had convinced as a malefactor, Joshua be seeches as a son. Some hot spirit would have said, Thou wretched traitor! how hast thou pilfered from thy God, and' shed the blood of so many Israelites, and caused the host of Israel to show their backs, with dishonour, to the heathen ? Now shall we fetch this sin out of thee with tortures, and plague thee with a condign death. But, like the disciple of Him whose servant be was, he meekly entreats that which he might have extorted by violence: " My son, I beseech thee." Sweetness of com pellation is a great help towards the good entertainment of an admonition : roughness and rigour many times harden those hearts; which meekness would have melted to re pentance. Whether we sue, or convince, or reprove, little good is gotten by bitter ness. Detestation of the sin may well stand with favour to the person ; and these two not distinguished, cause great wrong, either in our charity or justice ; for either we uncharitably hate the creature of God, or unjustly affect the evil of men. Subjects are, as they are called, sons to the magis trate. All Israel was not only of the family, but as of the loins of Joshua. Such must be the corrections, such the provi-^ sions of governors, as for their children ; as again, the obedience and love of subjects must be filial. God has glorified himself sufficiently, in finding out the wickedness of Achan ; neither needs he honour from men, much less from sinners. They can dishonour Cont. V.] THE GIBEONITES. 99 him by their iniquities ; but what recom pense can they give him for their wrongs ? Yet Joshua says, " My son, give glory to God." Israel should now see, that the tongue of Achan did justify God in his lot. The confession of our sins doth no less honour God, than his glory is blemished by their commission. Who would not be glad to redeem the honour of his Redeemer with his own shame ? The lot of God, and the mild words of Joshua, won Achan to accuse himself, in genuously, impartially. A storm, perhaps, would not have done that which a sun shine had done. If Achan had come in uncalled, and, before any question made, out of an honest remorse, had brought in his sacrilegious booty, and cast himself and it at the foot of Joshua, doubtless Israel had prospered, and his sin had carried away par don ; now he hath gotten thus much thank, that he is not a desperate sinner. God will once wring from the conscience of wicked men their own indictments ; they have not more carefully hid their sin, than they shall one day freely proclaim their own shame. Achan's confession, though it were late, yet was it free and full : for he doth not only acknowledge the act, but the ground of his sin : f'l saw, and coveted, and took." The eye betrayed the heart, and that the hand, and now all conspire in the offence. If we list not to flatter our selves, this hath been the order of our crimes. Evil is uniform ; and, beginning at the senses, takes the inmost fort of the soul, and then arms our own outward forces against us. This shall once be the lascivi ous man's song, " I saw, and coveted, and took ;" this the thief s, this the idolater's, this the glutton's and drunkard's : all these receive their death by the eye. But, O foolish Achan, with what eyes didst thou look upon that spoil, which thy fellows saw and contemned ! Why couldst thou not before, as well as now, see shame hid under that gay Babylonish garment, and a heap of stones covered with those shekels of silver? The over-prizing and over- desiring of these earthly things, carries us into all mischief, and hides from us the sight of God's judgments. Whosoever de sires the glory of metals, or of gay clothes, or honour, cannot be innocent. Well might Joshua have proceeded to the execution of him, whom God and his own mouth accused: but, as one that thought no evidence could be too strong, in a case that was capital, he sends to see whether there was as much truth in the confession, as there was falsehood in the stealth. Magistrates and judges must pace slowly and sure in the punishment of offen ders. Presumptions are not ground enough for the sentence of death ; no, not, in some cases, the confessions of the guilty. It is no warrant for the law to wrong a man, that he hath before wronged himself. There is less ill in sparing an offender, than in pu nishing the innocent. Who would not have expected, since the confession of Achan was ingenuous, and his pillage still found entire, that his life should have been pardoned ? But here was, Confess and die: he had been too long sick of this disease, to be recovered. Had his confession been speedy and free, it had saved him. How dangerous it is to suffer sin to lie fretting into the soul, which, if it were washed off betimes with our re pentance, could not kill us ! In mortal of fences, the course of human justice is not stayed by our penitence. It is well for our souls that we have repented ; but the laws of men take not notice of our sorrow. I know not whether the death or the tears of a malefactor, be a better sight. The censures of the church are wiped off with weeping, not the penalties of laws. Neither is Achan alone called forth to death, but all his family, all his substance. The actor alone doth not smart with sacri lege : all that concerns him is enwrapped in the judgment. Those that defile their hands with holy goods, are enemies to their own flesh and blood. God's first revenges are so much the more fearful, because they must be exemplary. CONTEMPLATION V. — THE GIBEONITES. The news of Israel's victory had flown over all the mountains and valleys of Ca naan ; and yet those heathenish kings and people are mustered together against them. They might have seen themselves in Jeri cho and Ai, and have well perceived it was not an arm of flesh that they must resist ; yet they gather their forces and say, Tush, we shall speed better. It is madness in a man not to be warned, but to run upon the point of those judgments wherewith he sees others miscarry, and not to believe till he cannot recover. Our assent is purchased too late, when we have overstayed pre vention, and trust to that experience which we cannot live to redeem. Only the Hivites are wiser than their fellows, and will rather j-ield and live. Their intelligence was not diverse from the rest ; all had equally heard Of the mi- g2 100 THE GIBEONITES. [Book VIII. raculous conduct and success of Israel : but their resolution was diverse. As Rahab saved her family in the midst of Jericho, so these four cities preserved themselves in the midst of Canaan ; and both of them by believing what God would do. The effi cacy of God's marvellous works is not in the acts themselves, but in our appre hension : some are overcome with those motives which others have contemned for weak. . Had these Gibeonites joined with the forces of all their neighbours, they had perished in their common slaughter ; if they had not gone away by themselves, death had met them. It may have more pleasure, it cannot have so much safety, to follow the multitude. If examples may lead us, the greatest part shuts out God upon earth, and is excluded from God else where. Some few poor Hivites yield to the church of God, and escape the con demnation of the world. It is very like, their neighbours flouted at this base sub mission of the Gibeonites, and, out of their terms of honour,- scorned to beg life of an enemy, while they were out of the compass of mercy ; but, when the bodies of these profld Jebusites and Perizites lay strewed upon the earth, and the Gibeonites sur vived, whether was more worthy of scorn and insultation? If the Gibeonites had stayed till Israel had besieged their cities, their yieldance had been fruitless : now they make an early peace, and are preserved. There is no wisdom in staying till, a judgment come home to us ; the only way to avoid it, is to meet it half way. These is the same re medy of war and of danger. To provoke an enemy in his own borders is the best stay of invasion ; and'to solicit God betimes, in a manifest danger, is the best antidote for death, I commend their wisdom in seeking peace ; I do not commend their falsehood in the manner of seeking it : who can look for any better of pagans ! But as the faith of Rahab is so rewarded, that her lie is not punished, so the fraud of these Gibeo nites is not an equal match of their belief, since the name of the Lord God of Israel brought them to this suit of peace. Nothing is found fitter to deceive God's people, than a counterfeit copy of age. Here are old sacks, old bottles, old shoes, old garments, old bread. The Israelites, that had worn one suit forty years, seemed new clad in comparison of them. It is no new policy, that Satan would beguile us with a vain colour of antiquity, clothing falsehood in rags. Errors are never the older for their patching. Corruption can do the same that time would do : we may make age as well as suffer it. These Gibeonites did tear their bottles and shoes, and clothes, and made them naught, that they might seem old : so do the false pa trons of new errors. If we be caught with this Gibeonite stratagem, it is a sign we have not consulted with God. The sentence of death was gone out against all the inhabitants of Canaan. These Hivites acknowledge the truth and judgments of God, and yet seek to escape by a league with Israel.. The general de-» nunciations of the vengeance of God en wrap all sinners ; yet may we not despair of mercy. If the secret counsel of the Al mighty had not designed these men to live, Joshua could not have been deceived with their league. In the generality there is no hope. Let us come, in the old rags of our vileness, to the true Joshua, and make our truce with him : we may live, yea, we shall live. Some of the Israelites suspect the fraud ; and, notwithstanding all their old garments and provisions, can say, " It may be, thou dwellest amongst us." If Joshua had continued this doubt, the Gibeonites had torn their bottles in vain. In cases and persons unknown, it is safe not to be too credulous. Charity itself will allow suspicion, where we have seen no cause to trust. If these Hivites had not put on new faces with their old clothes, they had surely changed countenance when they heard this argument ofthe Israelites, " It may be, thou dwellest among us ; how then can I make a league with thee ?" They had, perhaps, hoped their submission would not have been refused, wheresoever they had dwelt : but, lest their neighbourhood might be a prejudice, they come disguised ; and now hear, that their nearness of abode was an unremoveable bar of peace. It was quarrel enough that they were Canaanites r God had forbidden both the league and the life of the native inhabitants. He that calls himself the God of peace, proclaims him self the God of hosts : and not to fight where he hath commanded, is to break the peace with God, while we nourish it with men. Contention with brethren is not more hateful to him, than leagues with ido laters. The condition that he hath set to our peace, is our possibility and power: that falls not within the possibility of our power, which we cannot do lawfully. What a smooth tale did these Gibeonites tell for themselves, of the. remoteness of Cont. V.] THE GIBEONITES. Jffl: their country, the motives of their journey, the consultation of their elders, the ageing of their provisions by the way : that it might seem not only safe, but deserved on their parts, that they should be admitted to a peace so far sought, and purchased with so much toil and importunity. Their clothes and their tongues agreed together ; and both disagree from the truth. Deceit is ever lightly wrapped up in plausibility of words ; as fair faces oftentimes hide much unchastity. But this guile sped the better, because it was clad with much plainness : for who would have suspected, that clouted shoes and ragged coats could have covered so much subtilty ? The case seemed so clear, that the Israelites thought it need less to consult with the mouth ofthe Lord. Their own eyes and ears were called only to counsel ; and now their credulity hath drawn them into inconvenience. There is no way to convince the Gibeo- nitish pretences of antiquity, but to have recourse to the oracle of God. Had this been advised with, none of these false rags had shamed the church of God. Whether in our practice or judgment, this direction cannot fail^ whereas what we take upon the words of men, proves ever either light or false wares. The facility of Israel had led them into a league, to an oath, for the safety of the Gibeonites : and now, within three days, they find both their neighbourhood and deceit. Those old shoes of theirs would easily hold to carry them back to their home. The march of a great army is easy ; yet within three days the Israelites were be fore their cities. Joshua might now have taken advantage of their own words, to dissolve his league ; and have said, Ye are come from a far country"; these cities are near: these are not therefore the people to whom we are engaged by our promise and oath ; and if these cities be yours, yet ye are not yourselves. Erewhile ye were Strangers ; now ye are Hivites born, and dwelling in the midst of Canaan : we will therefore destroy these cities near hand, and do you save your people afar off. It would seem very questionable, whether Joshua needed to hold himself bound to this oath ; for fraudulent conventions oblige not ; and Israel had put in a direct caveat of their vi- einity : yet dare not Joshua and the princes trust to shifts, for the eluding their oath, but must faithfully perform what they have rashly promised. _ Joshua's heart was clear from any inten tion of a league with a Canaanite, when he gave his oath to these disguised stran gers : yet he durst neither'repeal it himself, neither do I hear him sue to Eleazar the high-priest to dispense with it, but takes himself tied to the very strict words of his oath, not to his own purpose. His tongue had bound his heart and hands, so as nei ther might stir ; lest, while he was curious of fulfilling the word of God. he should violate the oath of God. And if the Gi beonites had not known these holy bonds indissoluble, they neither had been so im portunate to obtain their vow, nor durst they have trusted it, being obtained. If either dispensation with oaths, or equivo cation in oaths, had been known in the world, or at least approved, these Gibeo nites had not lived, and Israel had slain them , without sin. Either Israel wanted skill, or our reservers honesty. The multitude of Israel, when they came to the walls of these four exempted cities, itched to be at the spoil. Not out of a desire to fulfil God's commandment, but to enrich themselves, would tiiey have fallen upon these Hivites : they thought all lost that fell beside their fingers. The wealthy. city of Jericho was first altogether inter dicted them : the walls and houses either fell or must be burnt, the men and cattle killed, the goods and treasure confiscate to God. Achan's booty shows, that that city was both rich and proud ; yet Israel might be no whit the better for them, carrying away nothing but empty victory : and now four other cities must be exempted from their pillage. Many an envious look did Israel therefore cast upon these walls ; and many bitter words did they cast out against their princes, the enemies of their gain, whether for swearing, or for that they would not forswear. But, howsoever, the princes might have said, in a return to their fraud, We swore indeed to you, but not to the people ; yet, if any Israelite had but pulled down one stone from their walls, or shed one drop of Gibeonitish blood, he had no less plagued all Israel for perjury than Achan had before plagued them for sacri lege. The sequel shows how God would have taken it ; for when, three hundred years after, Saul (perhaps forgetting, the vow of his forefathers) slew some of these Gibeonites, although out of a well-meant zeal, all Israel smarted for the fact, with a three years' famine, and that in David's reign, who received this oracle from God : " It is for Saul, and for his bloody house, because he slew the Gibeonites." Neither could this wrong be expiated, but by the blood of Saul's seven sons, hanged up at the very court gates of their father. 102 THE RESCUE OF GIBEON. [Book IX. Joshua and the princes had promised them life ; they promised thein not liberty : no covenant was passed against their servi tude. It Was just, therefore, with the rulers of Israel, to make slavery the price both of their lives and their deceit. The Israelites had themselves been drudges, . if the Gi beonites had not beguiled them and lived. The old fags, therefore, wherewith they came disguised, must now be their best suits, and their life must be toilsomely spent in hewing of wood and drawing of water for all Israel. How dear is life to our na ture, that men can be content to purchase it with servitude ! It is the wisdom of God's children to make good use of their over sights. The rash oath of Israel proves their advantage. Even wicked men gain by the outside of good actions ; good men make a benefit of their sins. BOOK IX. CONTEMPLATION I.— THE RESCUE OF GIBEON. The life ofthe Gibeonites must cost them Servitude from Israel, and dangers from their neighbours* If Joshua will but sit still, the deceit of the Gibeonites shall be revenged by his enemies. Five kings are up ih arms against them, and are ready to pay their fraud with violence. What should these poor men do ? If they make not their peace, they die by strangers ; if they do make their peace with foreigners, they must die by neighbours. There is no course that threatens not some danger. We have sped well, if our choice hath lighted upon the easiest inconvenience. If these Hivites have sinned against God, against Israel ; yet what have they done to their neighbours ? I hear of no treachery, no secret information, no attempt. I see no sin but their league with Israel, and their life ; yet, for aught we find, they were free men, no way either obliged or obnoxious. As Satan, so wicked men cannot abide to lose any of their commu nity, ff a convert come home, the angels welcome him with songs, the devils follow him with uproar and fury, his old partners with scorns and obloquy. I find these neighbour princes half dead with fear, and yet they can find time to be sick of envy. Malice in a wicked heart is the king of passions : all other vail and bow when it comes in place. Even their own life was not so dear to them as revenge. Who would not rather have looked that these kings should have tried to have fol lowed the copy of this league ? Or, if their fingers did itch to fight, why did they not rather think of a defensive war against Is rael, than an offensive against the Gibeo nites ? Gibeon was strong, and would not be won without blood ; yet these Amorites, which at their best were too weak for Israel, would spend their forces before-hand on their neighbours. Here was a strong hatred in weak breasts : they feared, and yet began to fight ; they feared Israel, yet began to fight with Gibeon. If they had sat still, their destruction had not been so sudden. The malice of the wicked hastens the pace of their own judgment. No rod is so fit for a mischievous man as his own. Gibeon and these other cities of the Hivites, had no king; and none yielded and escaped but they. Their elders con sulted before for their league ; neither is. there any challenge sent to the king, but to the city. And now these five kings 6 the Amorites have unjustly compacted against them. Sovereignty abused is a great spur to courage. The conceit of authority, in great persons, many times lies in the way of their own safety, while it will not let them stoop to the ordinary courses of inferiors. Hence it is, that heaven is peopled with so few great ones ; hence it is, that true contentment seldom dwells high, while meaner men of humble spirits enjoy both earth and heaven. The Gibeonites had well proved, that though they wanted a head, yet they want ed not wit; and now the same wit that won Joshua and Israel to their friendship and protection, teacheth them to make use of those they had won. ff they had not more trusted Joshua than their walls, they had never stolen that league; and when should thfey have Use of their new pro tectors, but now that they were assailed ? Whither should we fly, but to our Joshua, when the powers of darkness, like mighty Amorites, have besieged us ? If ever we will send up our prayers to him, it will be when we are beleaguered with evils, ff we trust to our own resistance, we cannot stand ; we cannot miscarry, if we trust to his. Iii vain shall we send to our Joshua in these straits, if we have not before come to him in our freedom. Which of us would not have thought. Joshua had a good pretence for his for bearance, and have said, You have stolen your league with me ; why do you expect help from him whom ye have deceived? All that we promised you was a sufferance, to live. Enjoy what we promised 1 we will Cont. I.] THE RESCUE OF GIBEON. 103 not take your life from you. Hath your faithfulness deserved to expect more than our covenant? We never promised to hazard our lives for you ; to give you life with the loss of our own. But that good man durst not construe his own covenant to such an advantage. He knew little difference betwixt killing them with his own sword, and the sword of an Amorite : whosoever should give the blow, the murder would be his. Even permission, in those things we may remedy, makes us ¦no less actors, than consent. Some men kill as much by looking on, as others by smiting. We are guilty of all the evil we might have hindered. The noble disposition of Joshua, besides his engagement, will not let him forsake his new vassals : their confidence in him is argument enough to draw him into the field. The greatest obligation to a good mind is another's trust ; which to dis appoint, were mercilessly perfidious. How much less shall our true Joshua fail the confidence of our faith ! O my Saviour, if we send the messengers of our prayers to thee into thy Gilgal, thy mercy binds thee to relief. Never any soul miscarried that trusted thee. We may be wanting in our trust, our trust can never want success. Speed in bestowing, doubles a gift ; a benefit deferred, loses the thanks, and proves unprofitable. Joshua marches all night, and fights all day for the Gibeonites. They took not so much pains in coming to deceive him, as he in going to deliver them. It is the noblest victory to overcome evil with good, ff his very Israelites had been in danger, he could have done no more. God and his Joshua make no difference betwixt Gibeonites Israelited, and his own natural people. All are Israelites whom he hath taken to league. We, strangers of the Gentiles, are now the true Jews. God never did more for the natural olive, than for that wild imp which he had graffed in. And as these Hivites could never be thank ful enough to such a Joshua, no more can We to so gracious a Redeemer, who, for getting our unworthiness, descended to our Gibeon, and rescued us from the powers of hell and death. Joshua fought, but God discomfited the Amorites. The praise is to the workman, not to the instrument. Neither did God slay them only with Joshua's sword, but with his own hailstones; that now the Amorites may see both these revenges come from one hand. These bullets of God do not wouud, but kill. It is no wonder than these five kings fly: they may soon run away from their hope, never from their horror. If they look behind, there is the sword of Israel, which they dare not turn upon, because God had taken their heart, from them, before their life : if they look upwards, there is the hail-shot of God fighting against them out of heaven, which they can neither resist nor avoid. If they had no enemy but Israel, they might hope to run away from death, since fear is a better footman than desire of re venge ; but now, whithersoever they run, heaven will be about their heads. And now, all the reason that is left them, in this confusion of their thoughts, is to wish themselves well dead. There is no evasion, where God intends a revenge. We men have devised to imitate these instruments of death, and send forth deadly bullets out of a cloud of smoke ; wherein yet as there is much danger, so much uncertainty; but this God, that discharges his ordnance from heaven, directs every shot to a head, and can as easily kill as shoot. " It is a fear ful thing to fall into the hands ofthe living God." He hath more ways of vengeance than he hath creatures. The same heaven that sent forth water to the old world, fire to the Sodomites, lightning and thunder bolts to the Egyptians, sends out hailstones to the Amorites. It is a good care how we may not anger God ; it is a vain study how we may fly from his judgments, when we have angered him : if we could run out of the world, even there shall we find his re venges far greater. Was it not miracle enough that God did brain their adversaries from heaven, but that the sun and moon must stand still in heaven? It is not enough that the Amo rites fly, but that the greatest planets of heaven must stay their own course, to wit ness and wonder at the discomfiture. For him, which gave them both being and mo tion, to bid them stand still, it seems no difficulty, although the rareness would de serve admiration; but for a man to com mand the chief stars of heaven (by whose influence he liveth), as the centurion would do his servant (Sun, stay in Gibeon, and moon stand still in Ajalon), it is more than a wonder. It was not Joshua, but his faith, that did this ; not by way of precept, but of prayer : if I may not say, that the re quest of a faithful man, as we say of the great, commands. God's glory was that which Joshua aimed at : he knew that all the world must needs be witnesses of that which the eye of the world stood still to see. Had he respected but the slaughter 104 ALTAR OF THE REUBENITES. [Book IX. of the Amorites, he knew the hailstones could do that alone ; the sun needed not stand still to direct that cloud to persecute them : but the glory of the slaughter was sought by Joshua, that he might send up that whence those hailstones and that vic tory came. All the earth might see the sun and moon ; all could not see the cloud of hail, which because of that heavy bur den flew but low. That all nations might know the same hand commands both in earth, in the clouds, in heaven, Joshua now prays, that he, which disheartened his enemies upon earth, and smote them from the cloud, would stay the sun and moon in heaven. God never got himself so much honour by one day's work amongst the heathen: and when was it more fit than now, when five heathen kings are joined against him? The sun and the moon were the ordi nary gods of the world ; and who would not but think, that their standing still but one hour should be the ruin of nature? And now all nations shall well see, that there is a higher than their highest ; that their gods are but servants to the God whom them selves should serve; at whose^ pleasure both they and nature shall stand at once. If that God which meant to work this mi racle had not raised up his thoughts to de sire it, it had been a blameable presumption, which now is a faith worthy of admiration. To desire a miracle without cause, is a tempting of God. O powerful God, that can effect this ! O power of faith, that can obtain it! What is there that God cannot do? and what is there which God can do, that faith cannot do? CONTEMPLATION II. THE ALTAR OF THE REUBENITES. Reuben and Gad were the first that had an inheritance assigned them, yet they must enjoy it last. So it oft falls out in the hea venly Canaan : the first in title are last in possession. They had their lot assigned them beyond Jordan ; which, though it were allotted them in peace, must be pur chased with their war ; that must be done for their brethren, which needed not be done for themselves. They must yet still fight, and fight foremost, that, as they had the first patrimony, they might endure the first encounter. I do not hear them say, This is our share ; let us sit down and enjoy it quietly; fight who will for the rest: but, when they knew their own portion, they leave wives and children to take possession, and march armed before their brethren, till they had conquered all Canaan. Whe ther should we more commend their courage or their charity? Others were moved tb fight with hope ; they only with love : they could not win more ; they might lose them selves': yet they will fight, both for that they had something, and that their bre thren might have. Thankfulness and love can do more with God's children, than desire to merit or necessity. No true Is raelite can (if he might choose) abide to sit still beyond Jordan, when all his bre» thren are in the field. Now, when all this war of God was ended, and all Canaan is both won and divided, they return to their own ; yet not till they were dismissed by Joshua. All the sweet attractions of their private love cannot hasten their pace. If heaven be never so sweet to us, yet may we not run from this earthly warfare, till our great Captain shall please to discharge us. If these Reubenites had departed sooner, they had been recalled, if not as cowards, surely as fugitives: now they are sent back with victory and blessing. How safe and happy it is to attend both the call and the despatch of God ! Being returned in peace to their home, their first care is not for trophies, nor for houses, but for an altar to God ; an altar, not for sacrifice, which had been abomi nable, but for a memorial what God they served. The first care of true Israelites must be the safety of religion. The world, as it is inferior in worth, so must it be in respect. He never knew God aright, that can abide any competition with his Maker. The rest of the tribes no sooner hear news of their new altar, but they gather to Shiloh to fight against them. They had scarce breathing from the Canaanitish war, and now they will go fight with their brethren : if their brethren will, as they suspected, turn idolaters, they cannot hold them any other than Canaanites. The Reubenites and their fellows had newly settled the rest of Israel in their posses sions ; and now, ere they can be warm in their seats, Israel is up in arms to thrust them out of their own. The hatred of their suspected idolatry makes them forget either their blood, or their benefits. Israel says, These men were the first in our battles, and shall be the first in our re venge : they fought well for us ; we will try how they can fight for themselves. What if they were our champions ? their revolt from God hath lost them the thank of their former labours : their idolatry shall make them, of brethren, adversaries ; their Cont. IL] ALTAR OF THE REUBENITES. 105 own blood shall give handsel to their new altar. O noble and religious zeal of Israel ! Who would think these men the sons of them that danced about the molten calf? that consecrated an altar to that idol ? Now they are ready to die or kill, rather than endure an altar without an idol. Every overture, in matter of religion, is worthy of suspicion, worthy of our speedy opposition. God looks for an early redress of the first beginnings of impiety. As in treasons or mutinies, wise statesmen find it safest to kill the serpent in the egg ; so, in motions of spiritual alterations, one spoonful of water will quench that fire at first, which after wards whole buckets cannot abate. Yet do not these zealous Israelites run rashly and furiously upon their brethren, nor say, What need we expostulate ? the fact is clear : what care we for words, when we see their altar ? What can this moan, but either service to a false god, or di vision in the service of the true ? There can be no excuse for so manifest a crime : why do we not rather think of punishment than satisfaction ? But they send ere they go, and consult ere they execute. Phi- peas the son of Eleazar the priest, and ten princes, for every tribe one, are addressed both to inquire and djssuade : to inquire of the purpose of the fact ; to dissuade from that which they imagined was purposed. Wisdom is a good guide to zeal, and only can keep it from running out into fury. If discretion do not hold in the reins, good intentions will both break their own necks, and, the rider's : yea, which is strange, with out this, the zeal of God may lead us from God. Not only wisdom, but charity, moved them to this message. For, grant they had been guilty, must they perish unwarned ? Peaceable means must first be used to re call them, ere violence be sent to persecute them. The old rule of Israel hath been, still to inquire of Abel, No good shepherd sends his dog to pull out the throat of his strayed sheep, but rather fetches it on his shoulders to the fold. Sudden cruelty stands not with religion. He which will not himself break the bruised reed, how will he allow us either to bruise the whole, or to break the bruised, or to burn the broken ? Neither yet was here more charity in sending, than uncharitableness in the mis construction. They begin with a challenge, and charge their brethren deeply with transgression, apostasy, rebellion. I know not how two contrary qualities fall into love : it is not naturally suspicious, and yet many times suggests jealous fears of those we affect. If these Israelites had not loved their brethren, they would never have sent so far to restrain them ; they had never offered them part of their own patrimony : if they had not been excessively jealous, they had not censured a doubtful action so sharply. They met at Shiloh, where the tabernacle was ; but if they had consulted with the ark of God, they had saved both this labour, and this challenge. This case seemed so plain, that they thought advice needless : their inconsider- ateness therefore brands their brethren with crimes whereof they were innocent, and makes themselves the only offenders. In cases which are doubtful and uncertain, it is safe either to suspend the judgment, or to pass it in favour ; otherwise, a plain breach of charity in us shall be worse than a ques tionable breach of justice in another. Yet this little gleam of their uncharitable love began at themselves : if they had not feared their own judgments in the offence of Reuben, I know not whether they had been so vehement. The fearful revenges of their brethren's sin are still in their eye. The wickedness of Peor stretched not so far as the plague. Achan sinned, and Is rael was beaten ; therefore, by just induc tion, they argue, " Ye rebel to-day against the Lord ; to-morrow will the Lord be wroth with all the congregation." They still tremble at the vengeance passed, and find it time to prevent their own punish ment, in punishing their brethren. God's proceedings have then their right use, when they are both carefully remembered, and made patterns of what he may do. Had these Reubenites been as hot in their answer, as the Israelites were in their charge, here had grown a bloody war out of misprision : but now their answer is mild and moderate, and such as well showed,- that though they were further from the ark, yet no less near to God. They thought in themselves, This act of ours, though it were well meant by us, yet might well be, by interpretation, scandalous ; it is reason our mildness should give satisfaction for that offence which we have not prevented. Hereupon their answer was as pleasing, as their act was dangerous. Even in those actions whereby an offence may be occa sioned, though not given, charity binds us to clear both our own name, and the con science of others. Little did the Israelites look for so good a ground of an action so suspicious : an altar without a sacrifice ; an altar and no tabernacle ; an altar without a precept, 105 EHUD AND EGLON. tB00K IX*. and yet not against God. It is not safe to measure all men's actions by our own con ceit, but rather to think there may be a further drift and warrant of their act, than we can attain to see. By that time the Reubenites have com mented upon their own work, it appears as justifiable, as before offensive. What wis dom and religion is found in that altar, which before showed nothing but idolatry I This discourse of theirs is full both of reason and piety. We are severed by the river Jordan from the other tribes ; perhaps hereafter our choice may exclude us from Israel. Posterity may peradventure say, Jordan is the bounds of all natural Israel ites, the streams whereof never gave way to those beyond the river : if they had been ours, either in blood or religion, they would not have been sequestered in ha bitation. Doubtless, therefore, these men are the offspring of some strangers, which, by vicinity of abode, have gotten some tincture of our language, manners, religion : what have we to do with them ? what have they to do with the tabernacle of God ? Since, therefore, we may not either remove God's altar to us, or remove our patrimony to the altar, the pattern of the altar s liall go with us, not for sacrifice, but for me morial, that both the posterity of the other Israelites may know we are no less derived from them, than this altar from theirs ; and that our posterity may know, they pertain to that altar whereof this is the resem blance. There was no danger of the pre sent ; but posterity might both offer and receive prejudice, if this monument were not. It is a wise and holy care to prevent the dangers of ensuing times, and to settle religion upon the succeeding generations. As we affect to leave a perpetuity of our bodily issue, so much more to traduce piety with them. Do we not see good husbands set and plant those trees where of their grandchildren shall receive the first-fruit and shade ? Why are we less thrifty in leaving true religion entire to our children's children ? CONTEMPLATION III. — EHUD AND EGLON. As every man is guilty of his own sorrow, these Israelites bred mischief to themselves. It was their mercy that plagued them with those Canaanites, which their obedience should have rooted out. If foolish pity be a more humane sin, yet it is no less dan gerous than cruelty. Cruelty kills others ; unjust pity kills ourselves. They bad been lords alone of the promised land, if their commiseration had not overswayed their justice; and now their enemies are too cruel to them, in the just revenge of God, because they were too merciful. That God, which in his revealed will had commanded all the Canaanites to the slaughter, yet secretly gives over Israel to a toleration of some Canaanites, for their own punishment. He hath bidden us cleanse our hearts of all our corruptions; yet he will permit some of these thorns still in our sides, for exer cise, for humiliation. If we could lay violent hands upon our sins, our souls should have peace: now our indulgence costs us many stripes, and many tears. What a continued circle is hereof sins, judgments, repentance, deliverances? The conversation with ido laters taints them with Sin ; their sin draws on judgment; the smart of the judgment moves them to repentance ; upon their re pentance follows speedy deliverance; upon their peace and deliverance they sin again. Othniel, Caleb's nephew, had rescued them from idolatry and servitude; his life, and their innocence and peace, ended to gether. How powerful the presence of one good man is in a church or state, is best found in his loss. A man that is at once eminent in place and goodness, is like a stake in a hedge ; pull that up, and all the rest are but loose and rotten sticks easily removed: or like the pillar of a vaulted roof, which either supports or ruins the building. Who would not think idolatry an absurd and unnatural thing? which as it hath the fewest induce ments, so had alsothemost direct inhibitions from God; and yet, after all these warnings, Israel falls into it again. Neither affliction nor repentance can secure an Israelite from redoubling the worst sin, if he be left to his own frailty. It is no censuring of the truth of our present sorrow, by the event of a follow ing miscarriage. The former cries of Israel to God were unfeigned, yet their present wickedness is abominable: "Let him that thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall." No sooner had he said, Israel had rest, but he adds, They committed wickedness. The security of any people is the cause of their corruption. Standing waters soon grow noisome. While they were exercised with war, how scrupulous were they of the least intimation of idolatry! The news of a bare altar beyond Jordan drew them to gether for a revenge : now they are at peace with their enemies, they are at variance with God. It is both hard and happy not to be the worse with liberty. The seden tary life is most subject to diseases. Cont. III.] EHUD AND EGLON. 107 Rather than Israel shall want a scourge for their sin, God himself shall raise them up an enemy. Moab had no quarrel but his own ambition ; but God meant by the ambition of the one part, to punish the idolatry of the other: his justice can make one sin the execution of another, whilst nei ther shall look for any other measure from him but judgment. The evil of the city is so his, that the instrument is not guilt less. Before, God had stirred up the king of Syria against Israel ; now, the king of Moab ; afterwards, the king of Canaan. He hath more variety of judgments, than there can be offences. If we have once made him our adversary, he shall be sure to make us adversaries enough, which shall revenge his quarrel whilst they prosecute their own. Even those were idolaters, by whose hands God plagued the idolatries of Israel. In Moab, the same wickedness prospers, which in God's own people is punished. The justice of the Almighty can least brook evil in his own. The same heathen which provoked Israel to sin, shall scourge them for sinning. Our very profession hurts us, if we be not innocent. No less than eighteen years did the rod of Moab rest upon the inheritance of God. Israel seems as born to servitude : they came from their bondage in the land of Egypt to serve in the land of promise. They had neglected God ; now they are neglected of God: their sins have made thehi servants, whom the choice of God had made free, yea his first-born. Worthy are they to serve those men, whose false gods they had served, and to serve them always in thraldom, whom they have once served in idolatry. We may not measure the continuance of punishment by the time of the commission of sin : one minute's sin deserves a torment beyond all time. Doubtless Israel was not so insensible of their Own misery, as not to complain sooner than the end of eighteen years. The first hour they sighed for themselves, but now they cried unto God. The very purpose of affliction is to make us importunate. He hears the secret murmurs of our grief; yet will not seem to hear us, till our cries be loud and strong. God sees it best to let the penitent dwell for the time under their sorrows : he sees us sinking all the while, yet he lets us alone, till we be at the bottom ; and when once we cau say, " Out of the depths have I cried to thee;" instantly follows, " The Lord heard me." A vehe ment suitor cannot but be heard of God, whatsoever he asks. If our prayers want success, they want heart; their blessing is according to their vigour. We live in bon dage to these spiritual Moabites, our own corruptions. It discontents us : nut where are our strong cries unto the God of heat vens? where are our tears? If we could passionately bemoan ourselves in him, how soon should we be more than conquerors ? Some good motions we have to send up to him, but they faint in the way. We may call long enough, if we cry not to him. The same hand that raised up Eglon against Israel, raised up also Ehud for Is rael against Eglon. When that tyrant hath revenged God of his people, God will revenge his people of him. It is no privi lege to be an instrument of God's vengeance by evil means. Though Eglon were an usurper, yet had Ehud been a traitor if God had not sent him. It is only in the power of him that makes kings, when they are once settled, to depose them. It is no more possible for our modern butchers of princes, to show they are employed by God, than to escape the revenge of God, in offering to do this violence, not being employed. What a strange choice doth God make of an executioner ! A man wanting of his right hand : either he had but one hand; or used but one, and that the worse, and the more unready. Who would not have thought both hands too little for such a work ? or, if either might have been spared, how much rather the left? " God seeth not as man seeth." It is the ordinary way ofthe Almighty to make choice ofthe un- likeliest means. The instruments of God must not be measured by their own power or aptitude, but by the will of the agent. Though Ehud had no hands, he that em ployed him had enabled him to this slaugh ter. In human things, it is good to look to the means : in divine, to the worker. No means are to be contemned, that God will use : no means to be trusted, that man will use without him. It is good to be suspicious, where is least show of danger, and most appearance of favour. This left-handed man comes with a present in his hand, but a dagger under his skirt. The tyrant, besides service, looked for gifts ; and now receives death in his bribe : neither God nor men do always give where they love. How oft doth God give extraordinary illumination, power of miracles, besides wealth and honour, where he hates ! So do men too oft accompany their curses with presents ; either lest an enemy should hurt us, or that we may hurt them. The intention is the favour in gifts, and not the substance. ')fl8 JAEL AND SISERA- [Boos IX. Ehud's faith supplies the want of his hand. Where God intends success, he lifts up the heart with resolutions of courage and contempt of danger. What indifferent beholder of this project would not have condemned it, as unlikely to speed ! to see a maimed man go alone to a great king, in the midst of all his troops ; to single him out from all witnesses ; to set upon him with one hand in his own parlour, where his courtiers might have heard the least exclamation, and have come in, if not to the rescue, yet to the revenge ! Every cir cumstance is full of improbabilities. Faith evermore overlooks the difficulties of the way, and bends her eyes only to the cer tainty of the end. In this intestine slaugh ter of our tyrannical corruptions, when we cast our eyes upon ourselves, we might well despair. Alas ! what can our left hands do against these spiritual wickednesses ! But, when we see who hath both commanded and undertaken to prosper those holy de signs, how can we misdoubt the success ? •' I can do all things through him that strengthens me." When Ehud had obtained the conve nient secrecy both ofthe weapon and place, now with a confident forehead he ap proaches the tyrant, and salutes him with a true and awful preface to so important an act : " I have a message to thee from God." Even Ehud's poniard was God's message : not only the vocal admonitions, but also the real judgments of God, are his errands to the world. He speaks to us in rain and waters, in sicknesses and famine, in unseasonable times and inundations : these are the secondary messages of God ; if we will not hear the first, we must hear these to our cost. I cannot but wonder at the devout re verence of this heathen prince. He sat in his chair of state : the unwieldiness of his fat body was such, that he could not rise with readiness and ease ; yet no sooner doth he hear news of a message from God, but he rises up from his throne, and reve rently attends the tenor thereof. Though he had no superior to control him, yet he cannot abide to be unmannerly in the busi ness of God. This man was an idolater, a tyrant ; yet what outward respects doth he give to the true God ? External ceremonies of piety, and compliments of devotion, may well be found with falsehood in religion. They are a good shadow of truth where it is ; but where it is not, they are the very body of hypocrisy. He that had risen up in arms against God's people, and the true worship of God, now rises up in reverence to his name. God would have liked well to have had less of his courtesy, more of his obedience. He looked to have heard the message with his ears, and he feels it in his. guts ; so sharp a message, that it pierced the body, and let out the soul through that unclean passage : neither did it admit of any answer but silence and death. In that part had he offended, by pampering it and making it his god ; and now his bane finds the same way with his sin. This one hard and cold morsel, which he cannot digest, pays for all those glut tonous delicates, whereof he had formerly surfeited. It is the manner of God to take fearful revenges of the professed enemies of his church. It is a marvel, that neither any noise in his dying, nor the fall of so gross a body, called in some of his attendants : but that God, which hath intended to bring about any design, disposes of all circumstances to his own purpose. If Ehud had not come forth with a calm and settled countenance, and shut the doors after him, all his pro ject had been in the dust. What had it been better that the king of Moab was slain, if Israel had neither had a messenger to inform, nor a captain to guide them ? Now he departs peaceably, and blows a trumpet in Mount Ephraim, gathers Israel and falls upon the body of Moab, as well as he had done upon the head, and procures freedom to his people. He that would un dertake great enterprises, had need of wis dom and courage ; wisdom to contrive, and; courage to execute ; wisdom to guide his courage, and courage to second his wisdom ; both which, if they meet with a good cause, cannot but succeed. CONTEMPLATION IV OF JAEL AND SISERA. It is no wonder if they, who, ere four score days after the law delivered, fell to idolatry alone ; now, after fourscore years since the law restored, fell to idolatry among the Canaanites. Peace could in a shorter time work looseness in any people. And if, forty years after Othniel's delive rance, they relapsed, what marvel is it, that, in twice forty after Ehud, they thus miscarried ? What are they the better to have killed Eglon the king of Moab, if the idolatry of Moab have killed them ? The sin of Moab shall be found a worse tyrant than their Eglon. Israel is for every mar ket: they sold themselves to idolatry ; God Cont. IV. JAEL AND SISERA. 109 sells them to the Canaanites : it is no mar vel they are slaves, if they will be idolaters. After their longest intermission, they have now the sorest bondage. None of their tyrants were so potent as Jabin, with his nine hundred chariots of iron. The longer the reckoning is deferred, the greater is the sum. God provides on purpose mighty ad versaries for his church, that their humili ation may be the greater in sustaining, and his glory may be greater in deliverance. I do not find any prophet in Israel du ring their sin ; but so soon as I hear news of their repentance, mention is made of a prophetess, and judge of Israel. There is no better sign of God's reconciliation, than the sending of his holy messengers to any people. He is not utterly fallen out with those whom he blesses with prophecy. Whom yet do I see raised to this honour ? — not any of the princes of Israel ; not Barak the captain ; not Lapidoth the hus band : but a woman, for the honour of her sex; a wife, for the honour of wedlock; Deborah, the wife of Lapidoth. He, that had choice of all the millions of Israel, calls out two weak women to de liver his people : Deborah shall judge ; Jael shall execute. All the palaces of Israel must yield to the palm-tree of Deborah : the weakness of the instruments redounds to the greater honour of the workman. Who shall ask God any reason of his elec tions, but his own pleasure ? Deborah was to sentence, not to strike ; to c. mmand, not to execute. This act is masculine, fit for some captain of Israel. She was the head of Israel ; it was meet some other should be the hand. It is an imperfect and titular government, where there is a commanding power, without correction, without execu tion. The message of Deborah finds out Barak the son of Abinoam, in his obscure secrecy, and calls him from a corner of Naphtali to the honour of this exploit. He is sent for, not to get the victory, but to take it ; not to overcome, but to kill ; to pursue, and not to beat Sisera. Who could not have done this work, whereto not much courage, no skill, belonged? yet, even for this, will God have an instrument of his own choice. It is most fit that God should serve himself where he lists, of his own: neither is it to be inquired, whom we think meet for any employment, but whom God hath called. Deborah had been no prophetess, if she durst have sent in her own name : her mes sage is from him that sent herself, " Hath not the Lord God of Israel commanded?" Barak's answer is faithful, though condi tional ; and doth not so much intend a refu sal to go without her, as a necessarv bond of her presence with him. Who can blame him, that he would have a prophetess in his company? If the man had not been as holy as valiant, he would not have wished such society. How many think it a perpetual bondage to have a prophet of God at their elbow! God had never sent for him so far, if he could have been content to go up without Deborah : he knew that there was both a blessing and encouragement in that presence. It is no putting any trust in the success of those men that neglect the mes sengers of God. To prescribe that to others, which we draw back from doing ourselves, is an ar gument of hoUowness and falsity. Barak shall see that Deborah doth not offer him that Cup whereof she dares not begin : without regard of her sex, she marches with him to Mount Tabor, and rejoices to be seen of the ten thousand of Israel. With what scorn did Sisera look at these glean-; ings of Israel ! How unequal did this match seem, of ten thousand Israelites against his three hundred thousand foot, ten thousand horse, nine hundred chariots of iron ! And now in bravery he calls for his troops, and means to kill this handful of Israel with the very sight of bis spiked chariots, and only feared it would be no victory to cut the throats of so few. The faith of De borah and Barak was not appalled with this world of adversaries, which from Mount Tabor they saw hiding all the valley below them : they knew whom they had believed, and how little an arm of flesh could do against the God of Hosts. Barak went down against Sisera, but it was God that destroyed him. The Is raelites did not this day wield their own swords : lest they should arrogate anything, God told them before-hand, it should be his own act. I hear not of one stroke that any Canaanite gave in this fight, as if they were called hither only to suffer. And now proud Sisera, after many curses of the heaviness of that iron carriage, is glad to quit his chariot, and betake himself to his heels. Who ever yet knew any earthly thing trusted in, without disappointment? It is wonder if God make us not at last as weary of whatsoever hath stolen our hearts from him, as ever we were fond. Yet Sisera hopes to have sped better than his followers, in so seasonable a harr bour of Jael. If Heber and Jael bad not been great persons, there had been no note taken of their tents ; there had been no league betwixt king Jabin and them : now 110 GIDEON'S CALLING. [Book IX. their greatness makes them known, their league makes them trusted. The distress of Sisera might have made him importu nate ; but Jael begins the courtesy, and exceeds the desire of her guest. He asks water to drink, she gives him milk ; he wishes but shelter, she makes him a bed ; he desires the protection of her tent, she covers him with a mantle. And now Sisera pleases himself with .this happy change, and thinks how much better it is to be here, than in that whirling of chariots, in that horror of flight, amongst those shrieks, those wounds, those carcases. While he is in these thoughts, his weariness and easy reposal hath brought him asleep. Who would have looked that in this tumult and danger, even betwixt the very jaws of death, Sisera should find time to sleep ! How many worldly hearts do so in the midst of their spiritual perils ! Now, while he was dreaming, doubtless, of the clashing of armours, rattling of cha riots, neighing of horses, the clamour of the conquered, the furious pursuit of Is rael, Jael, seeing his temples lie so fair, as if they invited the nail and hammer, en tered into the thought of this noble execu tion ; certainly not without some checks of doubt, and pleas of fear. What if I strike him V And yet, who am I that I should dare to think of such an act ? Is not this Si sera, the most famous captain of the world, whose name hath wont to be fearful to whole nations ? What if my hand should swerve in the stroke ? what if he should awake while I am lifting up this instrument of death? what if I should be surprised by some of his followers, while the fact is green, and yet bleeding ? Can the murder of so great a leader be hid, or unrevenged ? Or, if I might hope so, yet can my heart allow me to be secretly treacherous ? Is there not peace betwixt my house and him ? did not I invite him into my tent? doth he not trust to my friendship and hospi tality? But what do these weak fears, these idle fancies of civility ? If Sisera be in league with us, yet is he not at defiance with God ? is he not a tyrant to Israel ? Is it for nothing that God hath brought him into my tent ? May I not now find means to repay unto Israel all their kindness to my grandfather Jethro? Doth not God offer me this day the honour to be the rescuer of his people ? Hath God bidden me strike, and shall I hold my hand? No : Sisera, sleep now thy last, and take here this fatal reward of all thy cruelty and oppression. He, that put this instinct into her heart, did put also strength into her hand : he that guided Sisera to her tent, guided the nail through his temples, which hath made a speedy way for his soul through those parts, and now hath fastened his ear so close to the earth, as if the body had been listening what was become of the soul. There lies now the great terror of Israel at the foot of a woman ! He, that brought so many hundred thousands into the field, hath not now one page left, either to avert his death, or to accompany it or bewail it ! He, that had vaunted of his iron chariots, is slain by one nail of iron, wanting only this one point of his infelicity, that he knows not by whose hand he perished ! CONTEMPLATION V — GIDEONS CALLING. The judgments of God, still the further they go, the sorer they are. The bondage of Israel under Jabin was great, but it was freedom in comparison of the yoke of the Midianites. During the former tyranny, Deborah was permitted to judge Israel under a palm tree ; under this, not so much as private habitations will be allowed to Is rael. Then, the seat of judgment was in sight of the sun; now, their very dwellings must be secret under the earth. They that rejected the protection of God, are glad to seek to the mountains for shelter ; and as they had savagely abused themselves, so they are fain to creep into dens and caves ofthe rocks, like -wild creatures, for safeguard. God had sown spiritual seed amongst them, and they suffered their heathenish neigh bours to pull it up by the roots ; and now, no sooner can they sow their material seed, but Midianites and Amalekites are ready by force to destroy it. As they inwardly dealt with God, so God deals outwardly by them : their eyes may tell them what their souls have done ; yet that God, whose mercy is above the worst of our sin, sends first his prophet with a message of re proof, and then his angel with a message of deliverance. The Israelites had smarted enough with their servitude, yet God sends them a sharp rebuke. It is a good sign when God chides us ; his round repre hensions are ever gracious forerunners of mercy; whereas, his silent connivance at the wicked argues deep and secret displeasure t the prophet made way for the angel, reproof for deliverance, humiliation for comfort. Gideon was thrashing wheat by the wine press. Yet Israel hath both wheat and wine, for all the incursions of their enemies. The worst estate out of hell, hath either some comfort, or, at least, some mitigation. In Cont. V.] spite ofthe malice ofthe world, God makes secret provision for his own. How should it be, but he that owns the earth, and all creatures, should reserve ever a sufficiency from foreigners (such the wicked are) for his household? In the worst of the Mi dianitish tyranny, Gideon's field and barn are privileged, as his fleece was afterwards, from the shower. Why did Gideon thrash out his corn? To hide it, not from his neighbours, but his enemies. His granary might easily be more close than his barn. As then Israelites thrashed out their corn to hide it from the Midianites, but now Midianites thrash out corn to hide it from the Israelites. These rural tyrants of our time do not more lay up corn, than curses. He that withdraweth corn, the people will curse him ; yea, God will curse him, with them, and for them. What shifts nature will make to live I O that we could be so careful to lay up spiritual food for our souls, out of the reach of those spiritual Midianites! we could not but live in despite of all adversaries. The angels, that have ever God in their face, and in their thoughts, have him also in their mouths : " The Lord is with thee." But this which appeared unto Gideon was the Angel of the covenant, the Lord of angels. While he was with Gideon, he might well say, " The Lord is with thee." He that sent the Comforter, was also the true comforter of his church. He well knew how to lay a sure ground of consolation, and that the only remedy of sorrow, and beginning of true joy, is, " The presence ¦of God." The grief of the apostles, for the expected loss of their Master, could never be cured by any receipt, but this of the same Angel, " Behold, I am with you to the end of the world." What is our glory, but the fruition of God's presence ? The punishment of the damned is a separa tion from the beatifical face of God; needs must therefore his absence in this life be a great torment to a good heart: and no cross can be equivalent to this beginning of hea ven in the elect, " The Lord is with thee." Who can complain either of solitariness or opposition, that hath God with him; with him, not only as a witness, but as a •party ? Even wicked men and devils can not exclude God, not the bars of hell can shut him out. He is with them by force, but to judge, to punish them ; yea, God will be ever with them to their cost ; but to protect, comfort, save, he is with none but his. While he calls Gideon valiant, he makes him so. How could he be but valiant, that had God with him? The godless man may GIDEON'S CALLING. Ill be careless, but cannot be other than cow ardly. It pleases God to acknowledge his own graces in men, that he may interchange his own glory with their comfort; how much more should we confess the graces of one another ? An envious nature is pre judicial to God. He is a strange man in whom there is not some visible good; yea, in the devils themselves we may easily note some commendable parts of knowledge, strength, agility. Let God have his own in the worst creature; yea, let the worst creature have that praise which God would put upon it. Gideon cannot pass over this salutation as some fashionable compliment, but lays hold on that part which was most important, the tenure of all his comfort; and, as not regarding the praise of his valour, inquires after that which should be the ground of his valour, the presence of God. God had spoken particularly to him ; he expostulates for all. It had been possible God should be present with him, not with the rest; as he promised to have been with Moses, Israel; and yet when God says, " The Lord is with thee," he answers, " Alas, Lord, if the Lord be with us," Gideon cannot conceive of himself as an exempt person ; but puts him self among the throng of Israel, as one that could not be sensible of any particular com fort, while the common case of Israel la boured. The main care of a good heart is still for the public ; neither can it enjoy it self, while the church of God is distressed. As faith draws home generalities, so charity diffuses generalities from itself to all. Yet the valiant man was here weak, weak in faith, weak in discourse, whilst he argues God's absence by affliction, his pre sence by deliverances, and the unlikeli hood of success by his own inability — all gross inconsequences. Rather should he have inferred God's presence upon their correction ; for wheresoever God chastises, there he is, yea, there he is in mercy. Nothing more proves us his, than his stripes : he will not bestow whipping where he loves not. Fond nature thinks God should not suffer the wind to blow upon his dear ones, because herself makes this use of her own indulgence ; but none out of the place of torment have suffered so much as his dearest children. He says not, We are idolaters ; therefore the Lord hath forsaken us, because we have forsaken him. This sequel had been as good, as the other was faulty; the Lord hath delivered us unto the Midianites, therefore he hath fori saken us. Sins, not afflictions, argue God absent. 112 GIDEON'S CALLING. [Book IX. Whilst Gideon bewrayeth weakness, God both gives him might, and employs it : " Go in this thy might, and save Israel." Who would not have looked, that God should have looked angrily on him, and chid him for his unbelief? But he, whose mercy will not quench the weakest fire of ¦grace, though it be but in flax, looks upon him with compassionate eyes ; andj to make good his own word, gives him that valour he had acknowledged. Gideon had not yet said, " Lord, deliver Israel;" much less had he said, "Lord, deliver Israel by my hand." The mercy of God prevents the desire of Gideon. If God should not begin with us, we should be ever miserable: if he should not give us till we ask, yet who should give us to ask? ff his spirit did not work those holy groans and sighs in us, we should never make suit to God. He that commonly gives us power to crave, sometimes gives us without craving, that the benefit might be so much more welcome, by how much less it was expected ; and we so much more thankful as he is more forward. When he bids us ask, it is not for that he needs to be entreated, but that he may make us more capable of blessings by desiring them. And where he sees fervent desires, he stays not for words ; and he that gives ere we ask, how much more will he give when we ask? He. that hath might enough to deliver , Israel, yet hath not might enough to keep himself from doubting. The strongest faith will ever have some touch of infidelity. And yet this was not so much a distrust of the possibility of delivering Israel, as an inquiry after the means. Whereby shall I save Israel? The salutation ofthe angel to Gideon was as like Gabriel's salutation of the blessed virgin, as their answers were like : both angels brought news of delive rance ; both were answered with a question of the means of performance, with a report of the difficulties in performing : " Ah, my Lord, whereby shall I save Israel?" How the good man disparages himself! It is a great matter, O Lord, that thou speakest of, and great actions require mighty agents. As for me, who am I? my tribe is none of the greatest in Israel ; my father's family is one of the meanest in his tribe, and I the meanest in his family. Poverty is a suffi cient bar to gi'eat enterprises. " Whereby shall I?" Humility is both a sign of following glory, and a way to it, and an occasion of it. Bragging and height of spirit will not carry it with God. None have ever been raised by him, but those which have formerly dejected themselves : none have been confounded by him that have been abased in themselves. There upon it is that he adds : " I will therefore be with thee;" as if he had answered, Hadst thou not been so poor in thyself, I would not have wrought by thee. How shotild God be magnified in his mercies, if we were not unworthy ? How should he be strong, if not in our weakness ? All this while Gideon knew not it was an angel that spake with him; he saw a man stand before him like a traveller, with a staff in his hand. The unusualness of those revelations, in those corrupted times, was such, that Gideon might think of any thing rather than an angel. No marvel if so strange a promise, from an unknown messenger, found not a perfect assent : fain would he believe, but fain would he have good warrant for his faith. In matters of faith, we cannot go upon too sure grounds. As Moses, therefore, being sent upon the same errand, desired a sign whereby Israel might know that God sent him ; so Gideon desires a sign from this bearer, to know that this news is from God. Yet the very hope of so happy news, not yet ratified, stirs up in Gideon both joy and thankfulness. After all the injury of the Midianites, he was not so poor, but he could bestow a kid and cakes upon the reporter of such tidings. Those which are rightly affected with the glad news of our spiritual deliverance, study to show their loving respects to the messengers. The angel stays for the preparing of Gi deon's feast. Such pleasure doth God take in the thankful endeavours of his ser vants, that he patiently waits upon the lei sure of our performances. Gideon intended a dinner ; the angel turned it into a sacri fice. He, whose meat and drink it was to do his Father's will, calls for the broth and flesh to be poured out upon the stone ; and when Gideon looked he should have blessed, and eaten, he touches the feast with his staff, and consumes it with fire from the stone, and departs. He did not strike the stone with his staff (for the at trition of two hard bodies would naturally beget fire), but he touched the meat, anil brought fire from the stone. And now, while Gideon saw and wondered at the spi ritual act, he lost the sight of the agent. He, that came without entreating, would not have departed without taking leave, but that he might increase Gideon's won- der, and that his wonder might increase his faith. His salutation, therefore, was not so strange as his farewell. Moses touched the rock with his staff, and brought fortb,. Cont. VI.] GIDEON'S VICTORY. 113 water, and yet a man, and yet continued with the Israelites. This messenger touches the stone with his staff, and brings forth fire, and presently vanishes, that he may approve himself a spirit. And now, Gi deon, when he had gathered up himself, must needs think, He that can raise fire out of a stone, can raise courage and power out of my dead breast: he that by this fire hath consumed the broth and flesh, can, by the feeble flame of my fortitude, con sume Midian. Gideon did not so much doubt before, as now he feared. We, that shall once live with, and be like angels, in the estate of our impotency, think we cannot see an angel and live. Gideon was acknowledged for mighty in valour, yet he trembles at the sight of an angel. Peter, that durst draw his sword upon Malchus and all the train of Judas, yet fears when he thought he had seen a spirit. Our natural courage cannot bear us out against spiritual objects. This angel was homely and familiar, taking upon him, for the time, a resemblance of that flesh whereof he would afterwards take the substance : yet even the valiant Gideon quakes to have seen him. How awful and glorious is the God of angels, when he will be seen in the state of heaven ! The angel that departed for the wonder, yet returns for the comfort of Gideon. It is not usual with God to leave his children in amaze, but he brings them out in the same mercy which led them in, and will magnify his grace in the one, no less than his power in the other. Now Gideon grows acquainted with God, and interchanges pledges of familiarity ; he builds an altar to God, and God confers with him, and (as he uses where he loves) employs him. His first task must be to destroy the god of the Midianites, then the idolaters themselves. While Baal's altar and grove stood in the hill of Ophrah, Is rael should in vain hope to prevail. It is most just with God, that judgment should continue with the sin, and no less mercy if it may remove after it. Wouldst thou fain be rid of any judgment ? inquire what false altars and groves thou hast in thy heart ; down with them first. First must Baal's altar be ruined, ere God's be built ; both may not stand to gether : the true God will have no society with idols, neither will allow it us. I do not hear him say, That altar and grove, which were abused to Baal, consecrate now to me j but, as one whose holy jealousy will abide no worship till there be no ido latry, he first commands down the monu ments of superstition, and then enjoins his own service ; yet the wood of Baal's grove must be used to bum a sacrifice unto God. When it was once cut down, God's detes tation and their danger ceased. The good creatures of God that have been profaned to idolatry, may, in a change of their use, be employed to the holy service of their Maker. Though some Israelites were penitent under this humiliation, yet still many of them persisted in their wonted idolatry. The very household of Gideon's father were still Baalites, and his neighbours of Ophrah were in the same sin : yea, if his father had been free, what did he with Baal's grove and altar ? He dares not there fore take his father's servants, though he took his bullocks, but commands his own. The master is best seen in the servants : Gideon's servants (amongst the idolatrous retinue of Joash) are religious like their master ; yet the misdevotion of Joash and the Ophrathites was not obstinate. Joash is easily persuaded by his sons, and easily persuades his neighbours, how unreasonable it is to plead for such a god, as cannot speak for himself; to revenge his cause, that could not defend himself. " Let Baal plead for himself." One example pf a resolute onset in a noted person, may do more good than a thousand seconds in the proceeding of an action. Soon are all the Midianites in an uproar to lose their god ; they need not now be bidden to muster themselves for revenge. He hath no religion, that can suffer an indignity offered to his God. CONTEMPLATION VI. — GIDEON S PREPARA TION AND VICTORY. Of all the instruments that God did use in so great a work, I find none so weak as Gideon, who yet of all others was styled valiant. Natural valour may well stand with spiritual cowardice. Before he knew that he spake with a God, he might have had just colours for his distrust ; but after God had approved his presence and al mighty power, by fetching fire out of the stone, then to call for a watery sign of his promised deliverance, was no other than to pour water upon the fire of the Spirit. The former trial God gave vanished ; this, upon Gideon's choice and entreaty. The former miracle was strong enough to carry Gideon through his first exploit of ruina ting the idolatrous grove and altar ; but now, when he saw the swarm of the MiT H 114 GIDEON'S VICTORY. [Book IX/ dianites and Amalekites about his ears, he calls for new aid ; and, not trusting to the Abiezrites, and his other thousands of Is rael, he runs to God for a further assurance of victory. - The refuge was good, but the manner of seeking it savours of distrust. There is nothing more easy than to be valiant, when no peril appeareth ; but when evils assail us upon' equal terms, it is hard, and com mendable, not to be dismayed, ff God had made that proclamation now, which afterwards was commanded to be made by Gideon, " Let the timorous depart ;" I doubt whether Israel had not wanted a guide : yet how willing is the Almighty to satisfy our weak desires ! ' What tasks is he content to be set by our infirmity ! The fleece must be wet, and the ground dry ; the ground must be wet, and the fleece dry : both are done, that now Gideon may see whether he would make himself hard earth, or yielding wool. God could at pleasure distinguish betwixt him and the Midianites, and pour down either mercies or judgments where he lists ; and that he was set on work by that God which can command all the elements, and they obey him ; fire, water, earth, serve both him and (when he will) his. And now when Gideon had this recipro cal proof of his ensuing success, he goes on (as he well may) harnessed with resolu tion, and is seen at the head of his troops, and in the face of the Midianites. If we cannot make up the match with God, when we have our own asking, we are worthy to sit out. Gideon had thirty-two thousand soldiers at his heels. The Midianites covered all the valley like grasshoppers : and now, whilst the Israelites think, we are too few, God says, " The people are too many." If the Israelites must have looked for vic tory from their fingers, they might have well said, the Midianites are too many for us : but that God, whose thoughts and words are unlike to men's, says, " They are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hands." If human strength were to be opposed, there should have needed an equality ; but now God meant to give the victory, his care is not how to get it, but how not to lose or blemish the glory of it gotten. How jealous God is of his honour ! He is willing to give deliverance to Israel ; but the praise of the deliverance he will keep to himself, and will shorten the means, that he may have the full mea sure Of the glory. And if he will not allow lawful means to stand in the light of his honour, how will he endure it to be crossed so much as indirectly? It is less danger fo steal any thing from God than his glory- As a prince, which, if we steal or clip Hjs coin may pardon it ; but if we go about to rob him of his crown, will not be ap peased. There is nothing that we can give to God, of whom we receive all things :< that which he is content to part with, he gives us ; but he will not abide we should take ought from him which he would re serve for himself. It is all one with him to save with many as with few; but he ra ther chooses to save by few, that all the victory may redound to himself. O God, what art thou better for praises, to whom, because thou art infinite, nothing can be added ! It is for our good that thou wouldst be magnified of us. O teach us to receive the benefit of thy merciful favours, and to- return thee the thanks ! Gideon's army must be lessened. Who are so fit to be cashiered as the fearful? God bids him, therefore, proclaim licence for all faint hearts to leave the field. An ill instrument may shame a good work. God will not glorify himself by cowards. As the timorous shall be without the gates of heaven, so shall they be without the lists of God's field. Although it was not their courage that should save Israel, yet without their courage God would not serve himself of them. Christianity requires men ; for if our spiritual difficulties meet not with high- spirits, instead of whetting our forti^ tude, they quell it. David's royal band of worthies was the type of the forces of the church, all valiant men, and able to en counter with thousands. Neither must we be strong only, but acT quainted with our own resolutions, not out of any carnal presumption, but out of a faithful reliance upon the strength of God, < in whom, when we are weak, then we are strong. O thou white-liver! doth but a foul word, or a frown, scare thee from Christ? doth the loss of a little land, or silver, disquiet thee? doth but the sight j ofthe Midianites in the valley strike thee? Home, then, home to the world ! thou art not then for the conquering band of Christ: if thou canst not resolve to follow hira through infamy, prisons, racks, gibbets, flames, depart to thine house, and save thy life to thy loss. Methinks now Israel should have com plained of indignity, and have said, Why shouldst thou think, O Gideon, that there can be a cowardly Israelite? And if the experience of the power and mercy of God be not enough to make us fearless,, yet thg Cont. VI.] GIDEON'S VICTORY. 115 sense of servitude must needs have made us resolute ; for who had not rather to be buried dead than quick? Are we not fain to hide our heads in the caves of the earth, and to make our graves our houses? Not so much as the very light that we can freely enjoy. The tyranny of death is but short and easy to this of Midian ; and yet what danger can there be of that, since thou hast so certainly assured us of God's pro mise of victory, and his miraculous confir mation? No, Gideon ; those hearts that have brought us hither after thy colours, can as well keep us from retiring, But now, who can but bless himself to find, of two-and-thirty thousand Israelites, two-and-twenty thousand cowards? Yet all these in Gideon's march, made as fair a flourish of courage as the boldest. Who can trust the feces of men, that sees in the army of Israel, above two for one timorous? How many make a glorious shew in the war- faring church, which, when they shall see danger of persecution, shall shrink from the standard of God ? Hope of safety, examples of neighbours, desire of praise, fear of cen sures, coaction of laws, fellowship of friends, draw many into the field, which, so soon as ever they see the adversary, repent of their conditions ; and, if they may cleanly escape, will be gone early from mount Gilead. Can any man be offended at the number of these shrinkers, when he sees but ten thousand Israelites left of two-and-thirty thousand in a morning ? These men, that would have been a- shamed to go away by day, now drop away by night: and if Gideon should have called any one of them back, and said, Wilt thou fly ? would have made an excuse : the dark ness is a fit veil for their paleness, or blush ing; fearfulness cannot abide the light None of these thousands of Israel but would have been loath Gideon should have seen his face, whilst he said, I am fearful! Very shame holds some in their station, whose hearts are already fled. And if we cannot endure that men should be witnesses of that fear, which we might live to correct, how shall we abide once to show our fear ful heads before that terrible Judge, when he calls us forth to the punishment of our fear? O the vanity of foolish hypocrites, that run upon the terrors of God, whilst they would avoid the shame of men! How do we think the small remainder of Israel looked, when, in the next morn ing-muster, they found themselves but ten thousand left? How did they accuse their timorous countrymen, that had left but this handful to encounter the millions of Mi dian ? And yet still God complains of too many ; and, upon his trial, dismisses nine thousand seven hundred more. His first trial was of the valour of their minds ; his next is of the ability of their bodies. Those which, besides boldness, are not strong, pa tient of labour and thirst, willing to stoop, content with a little (such were those that took up water with their hands), are not for the select band of God. The Lord of Hosts will serve himself of none but able champions. If he have therefore singled us into his combat, this very choice argues, that he finds that strength in us, which we cannot confess in ourselves. How can it but comfort us in our great trials, that if the Searcher of hearts did not find us fit, he would never honour us with so hard an employment. Now, when there is not scarce left one Israelite to every thousand of the Midian ites, it is seasonable with God to join battle. When God hath stripped us of all our earthly confidence, then doth he find time to give us victory, and not till then, lest he should be a loser in our gain : likeas at last he unclothes us of our body, that he may clothe us upon with glory. If Gideon feared when he had two-and- thirty thousand Israelites at his heels, is it any wonder if he feared when all these were shrunk unto three hundred? Though his confirmation were more, yet his means were abated. Why was not Gideon rather the leader of those two-and-twenty thou sand run-aways, than of these three hundred soldiers? O infinite mercy and forbearance of God, that takes not advantage of so strong an infirmity, but instead of casting, encourages him I That wise providence hath prepared a dream in the head of one Midianite, an interpretation in the mouth of another, and hath brought Gideon to be an auditor of both ; and hath made his enemies prophets of his victory, encouragers of the attempt, proclaimers of their own confu sion. A Midianite dreams, a Midianite interr prets. Our very dreams many times are not without God ; there is a providence in our sleeping fancies. Even the enemies of God may have visions, and power to construe them aright. How usually are wicked men forewarned of their own destruction I To foreknow, and not avoid, is but an aggrava tion of judgment. When Gideon heard good news, though from an enemy, he fell down and worshipped. To hear himself but a barley-cake troubled him not, when he heard withal that his roll ing down the hill should break the tents of Midian. It matters not how base we be ii 2 116 SUCCOTH AND PENUEL. [Book IX. thought, so we may be victorious. The soul that hath received full confirmation from God in the assurance of his salvation, cannot but bow the knee, and by gestures of body tell how it is ravished. I would have thought Gideon should rather have found full confirmation in the promise and act of God, than in the dream of the Mi dianite. Dreams may be full of uncertainty ; God's undertakings are infallble. Well, therefore, might the miracle of God give strength to the dream of a Midianite; but what strength could a pagan's dream give to the miraculous act of God ? yet by this is Gideon throughly settled. When we are going, a little thing drives us on ; when we are come near the shore, the very tide, without sails, is enough to put us into the harbour. We shall now hear no more of Gideon's doubts, but of his achievements. And though God had promised by these three hundred to chase the Midianites, yet he neglects not wise stratagems to effect it. To wait for God's performance in doing no thing, is to abuse that divine providence, which will so work, that will not allow us idle. Now, when we would look that Gideon should give charge of whetting their swords, and sharping their spears, and fitting their armour, he only gives order for empty pit chers, and lights, and trumpets. The crack ing of these pitchers shall break in pieces this Midianitish clay ; the kindling of these lights shall extinguish the light of Midian ; these trumpets sound no other than a soul- peal to all the host of Midian: there shall need nothing but noise and light to confound this innumerable army. And if the pitchers, and brands, and trumpets of Gideon, did so daunt and dis may the proud troops of Midian and Amalek, who can we think shall be able to stand before the last terror, wherein the trumpet ofthe archangel shall sound, and the heaven shall pass away with a noise, and the ele ments shall be on a flame about our ears ? Any ofthe weakest Israelites would have served to have broken an empty pitcher, to have carried a light, and to have sounded a trumpet, and to strike a flying adversary. Not to the basest use will God employ an unworthy agent: he will not allow so much as a cowardly torch-bearer. Those two-and-twenty thousand Israelites that slipped away for fear, when the fearful Midianites fled, can pursue and kill them, and can follow them at the heels, whom they durst not look at in the face. Our flight gives advantage to the feeblest adversary, whereas our resistance foileth the greatest. How much more, if we have once turned our backs upon a temptation, shall our spiri tual enemies, which are ever strong, trample us in the dust? Resist, and they shall fly: stand still, and we shall see the salvation ofthe Lord. CONTEMPLATION VII.— THE REVENGE OF SUCCOTH AND PENUEL. Gideon was of Manasseh : Ephraim and he were brothers, sons of Joseph. None of all the tribes of Israel fall out with their victorious leader but he. The agreement of brothers is rare: by how much nature hath more endeared them, by so much are their quarrels more frequent and dangerous. I did not hear the Ephraimites offering them selves into the front of the army before the fight, and now they are ready to fight with Gideon, because they were not called to fight with Midian ; I hear them expostula ting after it. After the exploit done, cowards are valiant. Their quarrel was, that they were not called. It had been a greater praise of their valour to have gone unbid den. What need was there to call them, when God complained of multitude, and sent away those which were called? None speak so big in the end of the fray, as the fearfullest. Ephraim flies upon Gideon, whilst the Midianites fly from him ; when Gideon should be pursuing his enemies, he is pur sued by brethren, and now is glad to spend that wind in pacifying of his own, which should have been bestowed in the slaughter of a common adversary. It is a wonder if Satan suffer us to be quiet at home, whilst we are exercised with wars abroad.' Had not Gideon learned to speak fair, as well as to smite, he had found work enough from the swords of Joseph's sons : his good words are as victorious as his sword ; his pacifi cation of friends, better than his execution of enemies. For aught I see, the envy of Israelites was not more troublesome to Gideon, than the opposition of Midian. He hath left the envy of Ephraim behind him ; before him, he finds the envy of Suecoth and Penuel. The one envies that he should overcome without them ; the other, that he should say he had overcome. His pur suit leads him to Suecoth ; there he craves relief, and is repelled, Had he said, Come forth and draw your sword with me against , Zeba and Zalmunna, the motion had been but equal. A common interest challenges a universal aid. Now he says but " Give Cont. VII.] SUCCOTH AND PENUEL. 117 morsels of bread to my followers," he is turned off with a scorn ; he asks bread, and they give him a stone. Could he ask a more slender recompense of their deliverance, or a less reward of his victory? " Give morsels of bread." Before this act, all their sub stance had been too small a hire for their freedom from Midian ; now, when it is done, a morsel of bread is too nuch, Well might he challenge bread, where he gave liberty and life. It is hard if those which fight the wars of God may not have necessary relief; that whilst the enemy dies by them, they should die by famine. If they had laboured for God at home in peace, they had been worthy of maintenance ; how much more now, that danger is added to their toil ? Even very executioners look for fees ; but here were not malefactors,* but adversaries to be slain; the sword of power and revenge was now to be wielded, not of quiet justice. Those that fight for our souls against spiritual powers, may challenge bread from us ; and it is shameless unthankfulness to deny it. When Abraham had vanquished the five kings, and delivered Lot and his family, the king of Salem met him with bread and wine ; and now these sons of Abraham, after an equal victory, ask dry bread, and are denied by their brethren. Craftily yet, and under pretence of a false title, had they acknowledged the victory of Gideon ; with what forehead could they have denied him bread? Now, I know not whether their faith lessness or envy lies in their way ; " Are the hands of Zeba and Zalmunna in thy hands ?" There were none of these princes of Suecoth and Penuel, but thought them selves better men than Gideon ; that he therefore alone should do that, which all the princes of Israel durst not attempt, they hated and scorned to hear. It is never safe to measure events by the power of the instrument ; nor, in the causes of God (whose calling makes the difference), to measure others by themselves. There is nothing more dangerous, than in holy businesses to stand upon comparisons, and our own reputation ; since it is reason God should both choose and bless where he lists. To have questioned so sudden a victory had been pardonable ; but to deny it scorn fully, was unworthy of Israelites. Carnal men think that impossible to others, which themselves cannot do: from hence are their censures, hence their exclamations. Gideon hath vowed a fearful revenge, and now performs it; the taunts of his brethren may not stay him from the pursuit of the Midianites : common enmities must first be opposed, domestical at more leisure. The princes of Suecoth feared the tyranny of the Midianitish kings, but they more feared Gideon's victory. What a condition hath their envy drawn them into, that they are sorry to see God's enemies captive, that Israel's freedom must be their death, that the Midianites and they must tremble at one and the same revenger ! To see themselves prisoners to Zeba and Zalmunna had not been so fearful, as to see Zeba and Zalmunna prisoners to Gideon. Nothing is more terrible to evil minds, than to read their own condemnation in the happy suc cess of others. Hell itself would want one piece of its torment, if the wicked did not know those, whom they contemned, glo rious. I know not whether more to commend Gideon's wisdom and moderation in the proceedings, than his resolution and justice in the execution of this business. I do not see him run furiously into the city, and kill the next ; his sword had not been so drunken with blood, that it should know no difference : but he writes down the names of the princes, and singles them forth for revenge. When the leaders of God came to Je richo, or Ai, their slaughter was uripar- tial ; not a woman or child might live to tell the news : but now that Gideon comes to Suecoth, a city of Israelites, the rulers are called forth to death ; the people are frighted with the example, not hurt with the judgment. To enwrap the innocent in any vengeance, is a murderous injustice indeed ; where all join in the sin, all are worthy to meet in the punishment. It is like, the citizens of Suecoth could have been glad to succour Gideon, if their rulers had not forbidden. They must therefore escape, while their princes perish. I cannot think of Gideon's revenge with out horror ; that the rulers of Suecoth should have their flesh torn from their backs with thorns and briers, that they should be at once beaten .and scratched to death. What a spectacle it was, to see their bare bones looking somewhere through the bloody rags of their flesh and skin, and every stroke worse than the last, death multiplied by torment! Justice is some times so severe, that a tender beholder can scarce discern it from cruelty. I see the Midianites far less ill ; the edge of the sword makes a speedy and easy pas sage for their lives, while these rebellious Israelites die lingering under thorns and briers, envying those in their death whom their life abhorred. Howsoever men live 118 SUCCOTH AND PENUEL. [Book IX.' or die without the pale of the church, a wicked Israelite shall be sure of plagues. How many shall unWish themselves Chris tians, when God's revenges have found them out ! The place where Jacob wrestled with God, and prevailed, now hath wrestled against God, and takes a fall: they see God avenged, which would not believe him delivering. It was now time for Zeba and Zalmunna to follow those their troops to the grave, whom they had led in the field. Those, which the day before were attended with a hundred and thirty-five thousand fol lowers, have not so much as a page now left to weep for their death, and have lived only to see all their friends, and some ene mies, die for their sakes. Who can regard earthly greatness, that sees one night change two of the greatest kings of the world into captives ! It had been both pity and sin, that the heads of that Midianitish tyranny, into which they had drawn so many thousands, should have escaped that death. And yet, if private revenge had not made Gideon just, I doubt whether they had died. The blood of his brothers calls for theirs, and awakes his sword to their exe cution. He both knew and complained of the Midianitish oppression, under which Israel groaned : yet the cruelty offered to all the thousands of his father's sons had not drawn the blood of Zeba and Zalmunna, if his own mother's sons had not bled by their hands. He that slew the rulers of Suecoth and Penuel, and spared the people, now hath slain the people of Midian, and would have spared their rulers : but that God, which will find occasions to wind wicked men into judgment, will have them slain in a private quarrel, which had more deserved it for the public ; if we may not rather say, that Gideon revenged these as a magistrate, not as a brother. For governors to respect their own ends in public actions, and to wear the sword of justice in their own sheath, it is a wrongful abuse of authority. The slaughter of Gideon's brethren was not the greatest sin of the Midianitish kings : this alone shall kill them, when the rest expected an unjust remission. How many lewd men hath God paid with some one sin for all the rest ! Some, that have gone away with un natural filthiness, and capital thefts, have clipped off their own days with their coin ; others, whose bloody murders have been pu blished in a mutinous word ; others, whose suspected felony hath paid the price of their unknown rape. O God, thy judgments are just, even when men's are unjust ! Gideon's young son is bidden to revenge the death of his uncles ; his sword had not yet learned the way to blood, especially of kings, though in irons. Deadly executions. require strength both of heart and face. How are those aged in evil that can draw their swords upon the lawfully anointed of God? These tyrants plead not now for continuance of life, but for the haste of death : " Fall thou upon us." Death is ever accompanied with pain, which it is no marvel if we wish short. We do not more affect protraction of an easy life, than speed in our dissolution ; for here every pang, that tends towards death, renews it. To lie an hour under death is tedious, but to be dying a whole day, we think above the: strength of human patience. O what shall we then conceive of that death which knows no end! As this life is no less' frail than the body which it animates, so that death is no less eternal than the soul which must endure it. For us to be dying so long as we now have leave to live, is intolerable ; and yet one only minute of that other tormenting; death is worse than an age of this. Othe desperate infidelity of careless men, that shrink at the thought of a momentary death, and fear not eternal ! This is but a killing of the body ; that is a destruction of body and soul. Who is so worthy to wear the crown of Israel, as he that won the crown from Mi dian ? Their usurpers were gone ; now they are heedless : it is a doubt whether they were better to have had no kings, or tyrants. They sue to Gideon to accept of the king dom, and are repulsed. There is no greater example of modesty, than Gideon. When the angel spake to him, he abased himself below all Israel ; when the Ephraimites contended with him, he prefers their glean ings to his vintage, and casts his honour at their feet ; and now, when Israel proffers him that kingdom which he had merited, he refuses it. He that in overcoming would allow them to cry, " The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," in governing will have none but " The sword of the Lord." That which others plot and sue, and swear, and bribe for (dignity and superio rity), he seriously rejects, whether it were for that he knew God had not yet called • them to a monarchy, or rather for that he saw the crown among thorns. Why do we ambitiously affect the command of these Cont. VIII.] ABIMELECH'S USURPATION, 119 mole-hills of earth, when wise men have refused the proffers of kingdoms? Why do we not rather labour for that kingdom which is free from all cares, from all un certainty ? Yet he that refuses their crown, calls for their ear-rings, although not to enrich himself, but religion. So long had God been a stranger to Israel, that now super stition goes current for devout worship. It were pity that good intentions should make any man wicked ; here they did so. Never man meant better than Gideon in his rich ephod ; yet this very act set all Israel on whoring. God had chosen a place, and a service of his own. When the wit of man will be overpleasing God with better de vices than his own, it turns to madness, and ends in mischief. CONTEMPLATION VIII ABIMELECH S USURPATION. Gideon refused the kingdom of Israel when it was offered; his seventy sons offered not to obtain that sceptre, which their father's victory had deserved to make hereditary: only Abimelech, the concu bine's son, sues and ambitiously plots for it. What could Abimelech see in himself, that he should overlook all his brethren ? ff he looked to his father, they were his equals ; if to his mother, they were his betters. Those that are most unworthy of honour are hottest in the chase of it ; whilst the consciousness of better deserts bids men sit still, and stay to be either im portuned or neglected. There can be no greater sign of unfitness, than vehement suit. It is hard to say, whether there be more pride or ignorance in ambition. I have noted this difference betwixt spiri tual and -earthly honour, and the clients of both ; we cannot be worthy of the one without earnest prosecution, nor with ear nest prosecution worthy of the other. The violent obtain heaven ; only the meek are worthy to inherit the earth. That which an aspiring heart hath pro jected, it will find both argument and means to effect: if either bribes or favour will carry it, the proud man will not sit out. The Sheehemites are fit brokers for Abi melech: that city which once betrayed itself to utter depopulation, in yielding to the suit of Hamor, now betrays itself, and all Israel, in yielding to the request of Abi melech. By them hath this usurper made himself a fair way to the throne. It was an easy question, Whether will ye admit of the sons of Gideon for your rulers, or of strangers? ff of the sons of Gideon, whether of all, or one ? If of one, whether of your own flesh and blood, or of others unknown ? To cast off the sons of Gideon for strangers, were unthankful ; to admit of seventy kings in one small country, were unreasonable ; to admit of any other, rather than their own kinsman, were unnatura.. Gideon's sons therefore must rule amongst all Israel ; one of his sons amongst those seventy : and who should be that one but Abimelech ? Natural respects are the most dangerous corrupters of all elections. What. hope can there be of worthy superiors in any free people, where nearness of blood carries it from fitness of disposition? Whilst they say, " He is our brother," they are , enemies to themselves and Israel. , Fair words have won his brethren, they the Shechemites : the Shechemites furnish him with money, money with men : his men begin with murder, and now Abime lech reigns alone. Flattery, bribes, and blood, are the usual stairs of the ambitious. The money of Baal is a fit hire for mur derers ; that which idolatry hath gathered is fitly spent upon treason. One devil is; ready to help another in mischief; seldom. ever are ill-gotten riches better employed.- It is no wonder if he, that hath Baal his idol, now make an idol of honour. There was never any man that worshipped but one idol. Woe be to them that lie in the way of the aspiring I though they be bro thers, they shall bleed; yea, the nearer they are, the more sure is their ruin. Who would not now think that Abimelech should find a hell in his breast, after so barbarous and unnatural a massacre? and yet, behold,, he is as senseless as the stone upon which. the blood of his seventy brethren was. spilt. Where ambition hath possessed it self thoroughly of the soul, it turns the heart into steel, and makes it incapable ot a conscience. All sins will easily down with the man that is resolved to rise. Only Jotham fell not at that fatal stone with his brethren. It is a hard battle where none escapes. He escapes, not to reign, nor to revenge, but to be a prophet, and a witness of the vengeance of God upon the usurper, upon the abettors ; he lives to tell Abimelech that he was but a bramble, a weed, rather than a tree. A. right bramble indeed, that grew out of the base hedge-row of a concubine ; that could not lift up his head from the earth, unless he were supported by some bush or pale. of Shechem, that had laid hold of the fleece of Israel, and had drawn blood of alL 120 ABIMELECH'S USURPATION, [Book IX. his brethren ; and, lastly, that had no sub stance in him, but the sap of vain glory, and the pricks of cruelty. It was better than a kingdom to him, out of his obscure bier, to see the fire out of this bramble to consume those trees. The view of God's revenge is so much more pleasing to a good heart, than his own, by how much it is more just and full. There was never such a pattern of un- thankfulness as these Israelites. They who lately thought a kingdom too small recompense for Gideon and his sons, now think it too much for his seed to live ; and take life away from the sons of him that gave them both life and liberty. Yet if this had been some hundreds of years after, when time had worn out the memory of Jerub-baal, it might have borne a better excuse. No man can hope to hold pace with time : the best names may not think scorn to be unknown to following genera tions. But ere their deliverer was cold in his coffin, to pay his benefits (which deserve to be everlasting) with tl}e extirpation of his posterity, it was more than savage. What can be looked for from idolaters ? If a man have cast off his God, he will easily cast off his friends. When religion is once gone, humanity will not stay long after. That which the people were punished afterwards for but desiring, he enjoys. Now is Abimelech seated in the throne which his father refused, and no rival is seen to envy his peace. But how long will this glory last ? Stay but three years, and ye shall see this bramble withered and burnt. The prosperity of the wicked is but short and fickle. A stolen crown (though it may look fair) cannot be made of any but brittle stuff. All life is uncertain ; but wickedness overruns nature. The evil spirit thrust himself into the plot of Abimelech's usurpation and murder, and wrought with the Shechemites for both ; and now God sends the evil spirit betwixt Abimelech and the Shechemites to work the ruin of each other. The first could not have been without God ; but, in the second, God challenges a part. Re venge is his, where the sin is ours. It had been pity that the Shechemites should have been plagued by any other hand than Abimelech's. . They raised him unjustly to the throne ; they are the first that feel the weight of his sceptre. The foolish bird limes herself with that which grew from her own excretion. Who wonders to see the kind peasant stung with his own snake ? The breach begins at Shechem : his own countrymen fly off from their promised al legiance. Though all Israel should have fallen off from Abimelech, yet they of Shechem should have stuck close. It was their act, they ought to have made.it good. How should good princes be honoured, when even Abimelechs, once settled, can not be opposed with safety? Now they begin to revolt to the rest of Israel. Yet, if this had been done out of repentance, it had been praiseworthy; but to be done out of a treacherous inconstancy, was un worthy of Israelites. How could Abime* lech hope for fidelity, of them, whom he had made and found traitors to his father's blood ? No man knows how to be sure of him that is unconscionable. He that hath been unfaithful to one, knows the way to be perfidious, and is only fit for his trust that is worthy to be deceived; whereas faithfulness, besides the present good, lays a ground of further assurance. The friend ship that is begun in evil cannot stand : wickedness, both of its own nature, and through the curse of God, is ever unsteady ; and though there be not a disagreement in hell (being but the place of retribution, not of action), yet on earth there is no peace among the wicked ; whereas that affection which is knit in God, is indis soluble. If the men of Shechem had abandoned their false god, with their false king, and out of a serious remorse, and desire of sa tisfaction for their idolatry and blood, had opposed this tyrant, and preferred Jotham to his throne,' there might have been both warrant for their quarrel, and hope of suc cess : but now, if Abimelech be a wicked usurper, yet the Shechemites are idolatrous traitors. How could they think, that God would rather revenge Abimelech's bloody intrusion by them, than their treachery and idolatry by Abimelech? When the quarrel is betwixt God and Satan, there is no doubt of the issue ; but when one devil fights with another, what certainty is there of the victory ? Though the cause of God had been good, yet it had been safe for them to look to themselves. The un worthiness of the agent many times curses a good enterprise. No sooner is a secret dislike kindled in any people against their governors, than there is a gale ready to blow the coals.' It were a wonder, if ever any faction should want a head ; as, contrarily, never any man was so ill, as not to have some favourers : Abimelech hath a Zebul in the midst of Shechem. Lightly, all treasons are be trayed, even with some of their own : his intelligence brings the sword of Abimelech Cont. L] JE PH T H A H. 121 upon Shechem, who now hath demolished the city, and sown it with salt. O the just successions of the revenges of God ! Gi deon's ephod is punished with the blood of his sons ; the blood of his sons is shed by the procurement of the Shechemites ; the blood of the Shechemites is shed by Abi melech ; the blood of Abimelech is spilt by a woman. The retaliations of God are sure and just, and make a more due pedi gree than descent of nature. The pursued Shechemites fly to the house of their god Berith : now they are safe ; that place is at once a fort, and a sanctuary. Whither should we fly in our distress, but to our God ? And now this refuge shall teach them what 'a god they have served. The jealous God, whom they had forsaken, hath them now where he would, and rejoices at once to be avenged of their god and them. Had they not made the house of Baal their shelter, they had not died so fearfully. Now, according to the prophecy of Jotham, a fire goes out ofthe bramble, and consumes these cedars, and their eternal flames begin in the house of their Berith. The confusion of wicked men rises out of the false deities which they have doted on. Of all the conspirators against Gideon's sons, only Abimelech yet survives ; and his day is now coming. His success against Shechem hath filled his heart with thoughts of victory ; he hath caged up the inhabi tants of Tebez within their tower also ; and what remains for them, but the same end with their neighbours ? And behold, while his hand is busy in putting fire to the door of their tower, which yet was not high (for then he could not have discerned a woman to be his executioner), a stone from a woman's hand strikes his head. His pain in dying was not so much, as his indignation to know by whom he died; and rather will he die twice, than a woman should kill him. If God had not known his stomach so big, he had not vexed him with the impotency of his victor. God finds a time to reckon with wicked men, for all the arrearages of their sins. Our sins are not more our debts to God, than his judgments are his debts to our sins, which at last he will be sure to pay home. There now lies the greatness of Abimelech : upon one stone had he slain his seventy brethren, and now a stone slays him : his head had stolen the crown of Israel, and now his head is smitten. And what is Abimelech better that he was a king? What difference is there between him and any of his seventy brethren whom he mur dered, save only in guiltiness ? They bear but their own blood ; he the weight of all theirs. How happy a thing it is to live well, that our death, as it is certain, so may be comfortable! What a vanity is it to exult in the death of them whom we must follow the same way ! The tyrant hath his payment, and that time which he should have bestowed in calling for mercy to God, and washing his soul with the last tears of contrition, he vainly spends in deprecating an idle re proach : " Kill me," that it may not be said he died by a woman — a fit conclusion for such a life ! The expectation of true and endless torment doth not so much vex him, as the frivolous report of a dishonour : nei ther is he so much troubled with Abime lech's frying in hell, as Abimelech is slain by a woman. So vain fools are niggardly of their reputation, and prodigal of their souls. Do we not see them run wilfully into the field, into the grave, into hell ? and all lest it should be said, they have but as much fear as wit. BOOK X.. CONTEMPLATION I, — JEPHTHAH. Israel, that had now I6ng gone a who ring from God, hath been punished by the regiment of the concubine's son, and at last seeks protection from the son of a har lot. It is no small misery to be obliged unto the unworthy. The concubine's son made suit to them ; they made suit to the son of the harlot. It was no fault of Jeph thah that he had an ill mother ; yet is he branded with the indignity of his bastardy. Neither would God conceal this blemish of nature, which Jephthah could neither avoid nor remedy. God, to show his de testation of whoredom, revenges it not only upon the actors, but upon their issue. Hence he hath shut out the base son from the congregation of Israel, to the tenth generation, that a transient evil might have a durable reproach attending it; and that after the death of the adulterer, yet his shame might live. But that God, who justly ties men to his laws, will not abide we should tie him to our laws, or his own: he can both rectify and ennoble the blood of Jephthah. That no man should be too much discouraged with the errors of his propagation, even the base son of man may be the lawfully begotten of God ; and though he be cast out from the inheritance 122 JEPHTHAH. [Book X, of his brethren upon earth, may be admitted to the kingdom of Israel. I hear no praise of the lawful issue of Gilead ; only this misbegotten son is com mended for his valour, and set at the stern of Israel. The common gifts of God re spect not the parentage or blood, but are indifferently scattered where he pleases to let them fall. The choice of the Almighty is not guided by our rules : as in spiritual, so in earthly things, it is not in him that willeth. If God would have men glory in these outward privileges, he would bestow them upon none but the worthy. Now, who can be proud of strength or greatness, when he sees him that is not so honest, yet is more valiant, and more ad vanced? Had not Jephthah been base, he had not been thrust out ; and if he had not been thrust out from his brethren, he had never been the captain of Israel. By contrary paces to ours, it pleaseth God to come to his own ends : and how usually doth he look the contrary way to that he moves? No man can measure the conclu sion of God's act by his beginning. He that fetches good out of evil, raises the glory of men out of their ruin. Men love to go the nearest way, and often fail. God commonly goes about, and in his own time comes surely home. The Gileadites were not so forward to ex pel Jephthah, as glad to recal him. No Am monite threatened them, when they parted with such a helper : now, whom they cast out in their peace, they fetch home in their danger and misery. That God who never gave aught in vain, will find a time to make use of any gift that he hath bestowed upon men. The valour of Jephthah shall not rust in his secresy, but be employed to the common preservation of Israel. Necessity will drive us to seek up all our helps, even those whom our wantonness hath despised. How justly are the suits of our need up braided with the errors of our prosperity ! The elders of Gilead now hear of their ancient wrong, and dare not find fault with their exprobration : *' Did ye not hate me, and expel me out of my father's house ? how then come ye now to me in time of tribulation ?" The same expostulation that Jephthah makes with Gilead, God also at the same time makes with Israel : " Ye have forsaken me, and have served other gods ; wherefore should I deliver you any more ? Go, and cry unto the gods whom ye have served." As we, so God also finds it seasonable to tell his children of their faults, while he is whipping them. It is a safe and wise course, to make much of those in our peace, whom we must make use of in our extremity ; else it is but just that we should be rejected of those whom we have rejected. Can we look for any other answer from God than this ? Did ye not drive me out of your houses, out of your hearts, in the time of your health and jollity? Did ye not plead the strictness of my charge, and the weight of my yoke? Did not your wilful sins expel me from your souls ? What do you now, crouching and creeping to me in the evil day ? Surely, O God, it is but justice, if thou be not found of those which were glad to lose thee ! It is thy mercy if, after many checks and delays, thou wilt be found at last. Where an act cannot be reversed, there is no amends but confes sion ; and if God himself take up with this satisfaction, " He that confesses shall find mercy," how much more should men hold themselves well paid, with words of hu mility and deprecation ! Jephthah's wisdom had not been an swerable to his valour, if he had not made his match beforehand. He could not but know how treacherously Israel had dealt with Gideon. We cannot make too sure work, when we have to do with unfaithful men. It hath been an old policy to serve ourselves of men, and, after our advantage, to turn them up. He bargains, therefore, for his sovereignty, ere he win it : " Shall I be your head?" We are all naturally am bitious, and are ready to buy honour even with hazard. And if the hope of a trouble some superiority encouraged Jephthah to fight against the forces of Ammon, what heart should we take in the battles of God, against spiritual wickednesses, when the God of heaven hath said, " To him that overcomes, will I give power over nations, and to sit with me in my throne ? " O that we could bend our eyes upon the recom pense of our reward ! how willingly should we march forward against those mighty Ammonites ! Jephthah is noted for his valour, and yet he treats with Ammon, ere he fights. To make war any other than our last remedy, is not courage, but cruelty and rashness. And now, when reason will not prevail, he betakes himself to his sword. As God began the war with Jephthah. in raising up his heart to that pitch of for titude ; so Jephthah began his war at God, in craving victory from him, and pouring out his vow to him. His hand took hold of his sword, his heart of God ; therefore he, whom the Old Testament styles valiant, the New styles faithful ; he who is com mended for his strength, dares trust in none Cont. I.] JEPHTHAH. 123 but the arm of God: " If thou wilt give the Ammonites into my hand." If Jeph thah had not looked upward for his vic tory, in vain had the Gileadites looked up to him. This is the disposition of all good hearts : they look to their sword, or their bow, as servants, not as patrons ; and, whilst they use them, trust to God. If we could do so in all our businesses, we should have both more joy in their success, and less discomfort in their miscarriage. It was his zeal to vow ; it was his sin to vow rashly. Jacob, his forefather, of whom he learned to vow, might have taught him a better form : " If God will be with me, then shall the Lord be my God." It is well with vows, when the thing promised makes the promise good. But when Jeph thah says, " Whatsoever thing cometh out of the doors of my house shall be the Lord's, and I will offer it for a burnt sacri fice -," his devotion is blind, and his good affection overruns his judgment. For what if a dog or a swine, or an ass, had met him? where had been the promise of his conse cration ? Vows are as they are made, like unto scents : if they be of ill composition, no thing offends more -, if well tempered, no thing is more pleasant. Either certainty of evil, or uncertainty of good, or impossibi lity of performance, makes vows no service to God. When we vow what we cannot, or what we ought not do, we mock God. instead of honouring him. It is a vain thing for us to go about to catch God hood winked. The conscience shall never find peace in any way, but that which we see before us, and which we know safe, both in the kind and circumstances. There is no comfort in, Peradventure I may please God. What good child will not take part of the parent's joy? If Jephthah return with trophies, it is no marvel if his daughter meet him with timbrels. O that we could be so affected with the glorious acts of our heavenly Father ! Thou subduest thine enemies, and mightily deliverest thy people, O God : a song waiteth for thee in Sion. Who would have suspected danger in a dutiful triumph ? Well might Jephthah's daughter have thought, My sex forbade me to do any thing towards the help of my father's victory : I can do little, if I cannot applaud it. If nature have made me weak, yet not unthankful : nothing forbids my joy to be as strong as the victor's. Though I might not go out with my father to fight, yet I may meet him with gratulations. A timbrel may beeome these hands which were unfit for a sword : this day hath made me the daughter of the head of Israel ; this day hath made both Israel free, my father a conqueror, and myself in him noble : and shall my affection make no difference? What must my father needs think, if he shall find me sitting sullenly at home, whilst all Israel strives who shall run first to bless him with their acclamations ? Should I only be insensible of his and the common happiness ? And now behold, when she looks for most thanks, her father answers the mea sure of her feet with the knockings of his breast, and weeps at her music, and tears his clothes, to look upon her whom he best loved, and gives no answer to her timbrels, but, " Alas, my daughter, thou art of them that trouble me !" Her joy alone hath changed the day, and lost the comfort of that victory which she enjoyed to see won. It falls out often, that those times and occasions which promise most contentment, prove most doleful in the issue. The heart of this virgin was never lifted up so high as now, neither did any day of her life seem happy but this ; and this only proves the day of her solemn and perpetual mourning. As contrarily, the times and events which we have most dis trusted, prove most beneficial. It is good, in a fair morning, to think of the storm that may rise ere night, and to enjoy both good and evil fearfully. Miserable is that devotion which troubles us in the performance. Nothing is more pleasant than the acts of true piety. Jeph thah might well see the wrong of this re ligion, in the distaste of it : yet, while himself had troubled his daughter, he says, " Alas, my daughter, thou art of them that trouble me!" She did but her duty; he did what he should not : yet he would be rid of the blame, though he cannot of the smart. No man is willing to own a sin: the first man shifted it from himself to his wife; this from himself to his daugh ter. He was ready to accuse another, which only committed it himself.. It were happy if we could be as loath to commit sin, as to acknowledge it. The inconsideration of this vow was very tough and settled: " I have opened my mouth, and cannot go back." If there were just cause to repent, it was the weakr ness of his zeal to think that a vow could bind him to evil. An unlawful vow is ill made, but worse performed. It were pity this constancy should light upon any one but a holy object. No loan can make a truer debt than our vow; which if we pay not in our performance, God will pay us 124 SAMSON CONCEIVED. [Book X. with judgment. We have all opened our mouths to God, in that initial and solemn vow of Christianity. O that we could not go back! So much more is our vow obli gatory, by how much the thing vowed is more necessary. Why was the soul of Jephthah thus troubled, but because he saw the entail of his new honour thus suddenly cut off? he saw the hope of posterity extinguished in the virginity of his daughter. It is natural to us to affect that perpetuity in our suc cession, which is denied us in our persons : our very bodies would emulate the eternity of the soul. And if God have built any of us a house on earth, as well as prepared us a house in heaven, it must be confessed a favour worth our thankfulness ; but as the perpetuity of our earthly houses is un certain, so let us not rest our hearts upon that, but make sure of the house which is eternal in the heavens. Doubtless the goodness of the daughter added to the father's sorrow : she was not more loving, than religious; neither is she less willing to be the Lord's than her father's; and, as provoking her father to that which he thought piety, though to her own wrong, she says, " If thou hast opened thy mouth unto the Lord, do with me as thou hast promised." Many a daughter would have dissuaded her father with tears, and have wished rather her father's im piety, than her own prejudice; she sues for the smart of her father's vow. How obsequious should children be to the will of their careful parents, even in their final disposition in the world, when they see this holy maid willing to abandon the world upon the rash vow of a father ! They are the living goods of their parents, and must therefore wait upon the bestowing of their owners. They mistake themselves which think they are their own. ff this maid had vowed herself to God, without her father, it had been in his power to abrogate it ; but now that he vowed her to God with out herself, it stands in force. But what shall we say to those children, whom their parents' vow and care cannot make so much as honest, — that will be no other than godless, in spite of their baptism and education? what but that they are given their parents for a curse, and shall one day find what it is to be rebellious? All her desire is, that she may have leave to bewail that which she must be forced to keep, her virginity. If she had not held it an affliction, there had been no cause to bewail it ; it had been no thank to undergo it, if she had not known it to be a cross. Tears are no argument of impatience ; we may mourn for that we repine not to bear. How comes that to be a meritorious virtue under the gospel, which was but a punish ment under the law? The daughters of Is rael had been too lavish of their tears, if virginity had been absolutely good. What injury should it have been, to lament that spiritual preferment which they should ra ther have emulated ! While Jephthah's daughter was two months in the mountains, she might have had good opportunity to escape her father's vow ; but as one whom her obedience tied as close to her father, as his vow tied him to God, she returns to take up that burden which she had bewailed to foresee. If we be truly dutiful to our Father in heaven, we would not slip our necks out of the yoke, though we might, nor fly from his commands, though the door were open. CONTEMPLATION II. — SAMSON CONCEIVED. Of extraordinary persons, the very birth and conception is extraordinary : God be gins his wonders betimes, in those whom he will make wonderful. There was never any of those which were miraculously con ceived, whose lives were not notable and singular. The presages of the womb and the cradle, are commonly answered in the life : it is not the use of God to cast away strange beginnings. If Manoah's wife had not been barren, the angel had not been sent to her. Afflictions have this advan tage, that they occasion God to show that mercy to us, whereof the prosperous are incapable. It would not beseem a mother to be so indulgent to a healthful child, as to a sick. It was to the woman that the angel appeared, not to the husband; whether for that the reproach of barrenness lay upon her more heavily than on the father; or for that the birth of the child should cost her more dear than her hus band ; or, lastly, for that the difficulty of this news was more in her conception than in his generation. As Satan lays his bat teries ever to the weakest ; so, contrarily, God addresseth his comforts to those hearts that have most need : as, at the first, be cause Eve had most reason to be dejected, for that her sin had drawn man into the trangression ; therefore the cordial of God most respecteth her : " The seed of the woman shall break the serpent's head." As a physician first tells the state of the disease with its symptoms, and then pre scribes ; so doth the angel of God first tell Cont. IL] SAMSON CONCEIVED. 125 the wife of Manoah her complaint, then her remedy : " Thou art barren." All our af flictions are more noted of that God which sends them, than of the patient that suffers them : how can it be but less possible to endure any thing that he knows not, than that he inflicteth it not? He spith to one, Thou art sick ; to another, Thou art poor ; to a third, Thou art defamed ; Thou art oppressed, to another. That all-seeing eye takes notice from heaven of every man's condition, no less than if he should send an angel to tell us he knew it. His knowledge, compared with his mercy, is the just com fort of all our sufferings. O God, we are many times miserable, and feel it not ! thou knowest even those sorrows which we might have ; thou knowest what thou hast done : do what thou wilt. " Thou art barren." Not that the angel would upbraid the poor woman with her affliction ; but therefore he names her pain, that the mention of her cure might be much more welcome. Comfort shall come Un seasonably to that heart which is not appre hensive of his own sorrow. We must first know our evils, ere we can quit them. It is the just method of every true angel of God, first to let us see that whereof either we do, or should complain, and then to apply comforts : like as a good physician first pulls down the body, and then raises it with cordials, ff we cannot abide to hear of our faults, we are not capable of amend ment. If the angel had first said, " Thou shalt conceive," and not premised, " Thou art barren," I doubt whether she had con ceived faith in her soul, of that infant which her body should conceive : now his know ledge of her present estate makes way for the assurance of the future. Thus ever it pleases our good God to leave a pawn of his fidelity with us ; that we should not dis trust him in what he will do, when we find him faithful in that which we see done. It is good reason that he, which gives the son to the barren mother, should dis pose of him, and diet him, both in the womb first, and after in the world. The mother must first be a Nazarite, that her son may be so. While she was barren, she might drink what she would ; but now, that she shall conceive a Samson, her choice must be limited. There is a holy austerity that ever follows the special calling of God. The worldling may take his full scope, and deny his back and belly nothing ; but he that hath once conceived that blessed burden, whereof Samson was a type, must be strict and severe to himself: neither his tongue, nor his palate, nor his hand, may run riot. Those pleasures which seemed not un seemly for the multitude, are now debarred him. We borrow more names of our Sa viour than one ; as we are Christians, so we are Nazarites. The consecration of our God is upon our heads, and therefore our very hair should be holy. Our appetites must be curbed, our passions moderated, and so estranged from the world, that in the loss of parents, or children, nature may not make us forget grace. What doth the looseness of vain men persuade them that God is not curious, when they see him thus precisely ordering the very diet of his Na zarites ? Nature pleads for liberty, religion for restraint ; not that there is more un cleanness in the grape, than in the foun tain ; but that wine finds more uncleanness in us, than water ; and that the high feed is not so fit for devotion, as abstinence. Who sees not a ceremony in this command ? which yet carries with it this substance of everlasting use, that God and the belly will not admit of one servant ; that quaffing and cramming is not the way to heaven. A drunken Nazarite is a monster among men. We have now more scope than the ancients : not drinking of wine, but drunk enness with wine is forbidden to the evan gelical Nazarite ; wine, wherein is excess. O that ever Christians should quench the Spirit of God with a liquor of God's own making ! that they should suffer their hearts to be drowned with wine, and should so live, as if the practice of the gospel were quite contrary to the rule of the law ! The mother must conceive the only giant of Israel, and yet must drink but wa ter; neither must the child touch any other cup. Never wine made so strong a cham pion, as water did here. The power of nourishment is not in the creatures, but in their Maker. Daniel and his three compa nions kept their complexion, with the same diet wherewith Samson got his strength ; he that gave that power to the grape, can give it to the stream. 0 God, how justly do we raise our eyes from our tables unto thee, which can make water nourish, and wine enfeeble us I Samson had not a better mother than Manoah had a wife ; she hides not the good news in her own bosom, but imparts it to her husband. That wife hath learned to make a true use of her head, which is ever ready to consult with him about the messages of God. If she were made for his helper, he is much more her's. Thus should good women make amends for their first offence; that as Eve no sooner had 126 SAMSON CONCEIVED. [Book X. received an ill motion, but she delivered it to her husband ; so they should no sooner receive good, than they should impart it. Manoah (like one which in those lewd times had not lost his acquaintance with God) so soon as he hears the news, falls down upon his knees. I do not hear him call forth and address his servants to all the coasts of heaven (as the children of the prophets did in the search of Elias) to find out the messenger ; but I see him ra ther look straight up to that God which sent him : " My Lord, I pray thee, let that man of God come again." As a straight line is the shortest, the nearest cut to any blessing is to go by heaven : as we may not Sue to God, and neglect means, so we must sue to God for those means which we shall use. When I see the strength of Manoah's faith, I marvel not that he had a Samson to his son : he saw not the messenger, he heard not the errand, he examined not the circumstances ; yet now he takes thought, not whether he should have a son, but how he shall order the son which he must have ; and sues to God, not for the son which as yet he had not, but for the direction of governing him when he should be. Zecha riah had the same message, and, craving a sign, lost that voice wherewith he craved it. Manoah seeks no sign for the promise, but counsel for himself; and yet that angel spake to Zachary himself; this only to the wife of Manoah : that in the temple, like a glorious spirit ; this in the house, or field, like some prophet or traveller: that to a priest; this to a woman. All good men have not equal measures of faith : the bo dies of men have not more differences of stature, than their graces. Credulity to men is faulty and dangerous ; but, in the matters of God, is the greatest virtue of a Christian. Happy are they that have not seen, yet believed. True faith takes all for granted, yea, for performed, which is once promised. He, that before sent his angel unasked, will much more send him again upon en treaty : those heavenly messengers are ready both to obey their Maker, and to re lieve his children. Never any man prayed for direction in his duties to God, and was repulsed: rather will God send an angel from heaven to instruct us, than our good desires shall be frustrate. Manoah prayed ; the angel appeared again, not to him, but to his wife. It had been the shorter way to have come first to the man, whose prayers procured his presence. ;But as Manoah went directly and imme diately to God, so God comes immediately and about to him ; and will make her the means to bear the message to her husband, who must bear him the son: both the blessing and the charge are chiefly meant to her. It was a good care of Manoah, when the angel had given order to his wife alone for the governing of the child's diet, to proffer himself to his charge: *' How shall we order the child?" As both the parents have their part in the being of their children, so should they have in their edu cation ; it is both unreasonable and unna tural in husbands to cast this burden upon the weaker vessel alone : it is no reason that she, which alone hath had the pain of their birth, should have the pain of their breeding. Though the charge be renewed to the wife, yet the speech is directed to the husband ; the act must be her's, his must be the oversight: " Let her observe all I commanded her." The head must overlook the body; it is the duty of the husband to be careful that the wife do her duty to God. As yet Manoah saw nothing but the outside of a man, and therefore offers the angel an answerable entertainment, wherein there is at once hospitality and thankful ness. No man shall bring him good news from God, and go away unrecompensed . How forward he is to feast him, whom he took for a prophet ! Their feet should be so much more beautiful that bring us news of salvation, by how much their errand is better. That Manoah might learn to acknow ledge God in this man, he sets off the proffer of his thankfulness from himself to God, and (as the same angel which appeared to Gideon) turns his feast into a sacrifice. And now he is Manoah's solicitor to better thanks than he offered. How forward the good angels are to incite us unto piety ! Either this was the Son himself, which said, " It was his meat and drink to do his Father's will," or else one of his spiritual attendants of the same diet. We can never feast the angels better, than with our hearty sacrifices to God. Why do not we learn this lesson of them, whom we propound to ourselves as patterns of our obedience ? We shall be once like the angels in condi tion ; why are we pot, in the meantime, in our dispositions? ff we do not provoke and exhort one another to godliness, and do care more for a feast than a sacrifice, our appetite is not angelical, but brutish. It was an honest mind in Manoah, while he was addressing a sacrifice to God, yet not to neglect his messenger : fain would Cont. III.] STA'MSON'S MARRIAGE, 127 he know whom to honour. True piety is not uncivil, but, while it magnifies the author of all blessings, is thankful to the means. Secondary causes are worthy of regard ; neither need it detract any thing from the praise of the agent, to honour the instrument. It is not only rudeness, but injustice in those which can be content to hear good news from God, with contempt to the bearers. The angel will neither take nor give, but conceals his very name from Manoah. All honest motions are not fit to be yielded to ; good intentions are not always sufficient grounds of condescent. ff we do some times ask what we know not, it is no marvel if we receive not what we ask. In some cases, the angel of God tells his name un asked, as Gabriel to the virgin here, not by entreaty. If it were the angel of the cove nant, he had as yet no name but Jehovah ; if a created angel, he had no commission to tell his name ; and a faithful messenger hath not a word beyond his charge. Be sides that he saw it would be of more use for Manoah, to know him really, than by words. O the bold presumption of those men, which (as if they had long sojourned in heaven, and been acquainted with all the holy legions of spirits) discourse of their orders, of their titles, when this one angel stops the mouth of a better man than they, with " Why dost thou ask after my name, which is secret ?" " Secret things belong to God ; revealed, to us and our children." No word can be so significant as actions. The act of the angel tells best who he was : he did wonderfully ; Wonderful, there fore, was his name. So soon as ever the flame of the sacrifice ascended, he mounted up in the smoke of it, that Manoah might see the sacrifice and the messenger belonged both to one God, and might know both whence to acknowledge the message, and whence to expect the performance. Gideon's angel vanished at his sacrifice, but this in the sacrifice ; that Manoah might at once see both the confirmation of his promise, and the acceptation of his obedience, while the angel of God vouch safed to perfume himself with that holy smoke, and carry the scent of it up into heaven. Manoah believed before, and craved no sign to assure him ; God volun tarily confirms it to him above his desire : " To him that hath, shall be given." Where there are beginnings of faith, the mercy of God will add perfection. How do we think Manoah and his wife looked to see this spectacle ? They had not spirit enough left to look one. upon another; but, instead of looking Up cheerfully to heaven, they fall down to the earth upon their faces ; as weak eyes are dazzled with that which should comfort them. This is the infirmity of our nature, to be afflicted with the causes of our joy, to be astonished with our confirmations, to conceive death in that vision of God, wherein our life and happiness consist. If this homely sight of the angel did so confound good Manoah, what shall become of the enemies of God, when they shall be brought before the glo rious tribunal ofthe God of angels. I marvel not now, that the angel appeared both times rather to the wife of Manoah : her faith was the stronger of the two. It falls out sometimes, that the weaker vessel is fuller, and that of , more precious liquor. That wife is no helper, which is not ready to give spiritual comfort to her husband. The reason was good and irrefragable : " If the Lord were pleased to kill us, he would not have received a burnt-offering from us." God will not accept gifts where he intends punishment, and professes hatred : " The sacrifice of the wicked is abomination to the Lord." If we can find assurance of God's acceptation of our sacrifices, we may be sure he loves our persons. If I incline to wickedness in my heart, the Lord will not hear me : but the Lord hath heard me. CONTEMPLATION III SAMSON S MARRIAGE. Of all the deliverers of Israel, there is none of whom are reported so many weak nesses, or so many miracles, as of Samson. The news which the angel told of his con ception and education was not more strange than the news of his own choice : he but sees a daughter of the Philistines, and falls in love. All this strength begins in in firmity. One maid of the Philistines over comes that champion, which was given to overcome the Philistines. Even he that was dieted with water, found heat of unfit desires. As his body was strong, notwith standing that fare, so were his passions ; without the gift of continency, a low feed may impair nature, but not inordination. To follow nothing but the eye in the choice of his wife, was a lust unworthy of a Na zarite : this is to make the sense not a counsellor but a tyrant. Yet was Samson in this very impotency dutiful : he did not, in the presumption of his strength, ravish her forcibly ; he did not make up a clandestine match, without con • suiting with his parents, but he makes suit to them for consent: " Give me her to 128 SAMSON'S MARRIAGE. [Book X. wife ;" as one that could be master of his own act,, though not of his passion, and as one that had learned so to be a suitor, as not to forget himself to be a son. Even in this deplored state of Israel, children durst not presume to be their own carvers : how much less is this tolerable in a well guided and Christian commonwealth? Whosoever now dispose of themselves without their pa rents, they do wilfully unchild themselves, and change natural affection for violent. It is no marvel if Manoah and his wife were astonished at this unequal motion of her son. Did not the angel (thought they) tell us, that this child should be consecrated to God ; and must he begin his youth in unholy wedlock? Did not the angel say, that our son should begin to save Israel • from the Philistines ; and is he now capti vated in his affections by a daughter of the Philistines ? Shall our deliverance from the Philistines begin in an alliance ? Have we been so scrupulously careful that he should eat no unclean thing, and shall we now consent to a heathenish match ? Now, therefore, they gravely endeavour to cool this intemperate heat of his passion with good counsel ; as those which well knew the inconveniences of an unequal yoke: corruption in religion, alienation of affec tions, distraction of thoughts, connivance at idolatry, death of zeal, dangerous under minings, and lastly, an unholy seed. Who can blame them, if they were unwilling to call a Philistine daughter ? I wish Manoah could speak so loud, that all our Israelites might hear him : " Is there never a woman among the daughters of thy brethren, or among all God's people, that thou goest to take a wife of the un- circumcised Philistines?" ff religion be any other than a cipher, how dare we not regard it in our most important choice ? Is she a fair Philistine ? Why is not this deformity of the soul more powerful to dissuade us than the beauty of the face or of metal to allure us ? To dote upon a fair skin, when we see a Philistine under it, is sensual and brutish. Affection is not more blind than deaf. In vain do the parents seek to alter a young man, not more strong in body than in will. Though he cannot defend his desires, yet he pursues them : " Get her, for she pleases me." And although it must needs be a weak motion that can plead no reason but appetite, yet the good parents, since they cannot bow the affection of their son with persuasion, dare not break it with violence. As it becomes not children to be forward in their choice, so parents may not be too peremptory in their denial. It is not safe for children to overrun parents in settling their affections ; nor for parents (where the impediments are not very mate rial) to come short of their children, when the affections are once settled : the one is disobedience ; the other may be tyranny. I know not whether I may excuse either Samson in making this suit, or his parents in yielding to it, by a divine dispensation in both ; for, on the one side, while the Spirit of God notes that as yet his parents knew not this was of the Lord, it may seem that he knew it ; and is it likely he would know and not impart it ? This alone was enough to win, yea, to command his pa rents : it is not mine eye only, but the counsel of God that leads me to this choice. The way to quarrel with the Philistines is to match with them. If I follow mine affection, mine affection follows God in this project. Surely he that commanded his prophet afterwards to marry a harlot, may have appointed his Nazarite to marry with a Philistine. On the other side, whether it were of God's permitting, or allowing, I find not. It might so be of God, as all the evil in the city ; and then the interposition of God's decree shall be no excuse of Samson's infirmity. I would rather think that God meant only to make a treacle of a viper ; and rather appointed to fetch good out of Samson's evil, than to approve that for good in Samson, which in itself was evil. When Samson went on wooing, he might have made the sluggard's excuse, " There is a lion in the way ;" but lie that could not be stayed by persuasion, will not by fear. A lion, young, wild, fierce, hungry, comes roaring upon him, when he had no weapon but his hand, no fence but his strength. The same providence that car ried him to Timnah, brought the lion to him. It hath been ever the fashion of God to exercise his champions with some initia tory encounters : both Samson and David must first fight with lions, then with Phili stines ; and he, whose type they bore, meets with that roaring lion of the wilderness in the very threshold of his public charge. The same hand that prepared a lion for Samson, hath proportionable matches for every Christian : God never gives strength, but he employs it. Poverty meets one like an armed man; infamy, like some furious mastiff, comes flying in the face of another : the wild boar out of the forest, or the bloody tiger of persecution, sets upon one ; the brawling curs of heretical pravity, or contentious neighbourhood, are Cont. III.] SAMSON'S MARRIAGE. 129 ready to bait another : and by all these meaner and brutish adversaries, will God fit us for greater conflicts. It is a pledge of our future victory over the spiritual Philistines, if we can say, My soul hath been among lions. Come forth now, thou weak Christian, and behold this pre paratory battle of Samson. Dost thou now think God deals hardly with thee, in matching thee so hard, and calling thee forth to so many frays ? What, dost thou but repine at thine own glory? How shouldst thou be victorious, without resis tance ? ff the parents of Samson had now stood behind the hedge, and seen this encounter, they would have taken no further care of matching their son with a Philistine ; for who, that should see a strong lion ramp ing upon an unarmed man, would hope for his life and victory ? The beast came bristling up his fearful mane, wafting his raised stern, his eyes sparkling with fury, his mouth roaring out knells of his last passage, and breathing death from his nos trils, and now rejoicing at so fair a prey. Surely, if the lion had had no other adver sary than him whom he saw, he had not lost his hope ; but now he could not see that his Maker was his enemy: " The spirit of the Lord came upon Samson." What is a beast in the hand of the Creator ? He that struck the lions with the awe of Adam, Noah, and Daniel, subdued this rebellious beast to Samson. What marvel is it if Samson now tore him, as if it had been a young kid ? ff his bones had been brass, and his skin plates of iron, all had been one : " The right hand ofthe Lord bringeth mighty things to pass." If that roaring lion, that goes about con tinually seeking whom he may devour, find us alone among the vineyards of the Philistines, where is our hope? Not in our heels ; he is swifter than we : not in our weapons ; we are naturally unarmed : not in our hands, which are weak and lan guishing : but in the Spirit of that God by whom we can do all things. If God fight in us, who can resist us? There is a stronger lion in us, than that against us. Samson was not more valiant than modest ; he made no words of this great ex ploit. The greatest performers ever make the least noise. He that works wonders alone could say, " See thou tell no man ;" whereas those whose hands are most im potent, are busiest of their tongues. Great talkers show that they desire only to be thought eminent, whereas the deepest wa ters are least heard. But, while he concealed this event from others, he pondered it in himself; and when he returned to Timnah, went out of the way to see his dead adversary, and could not but recall to himself his danger and deliverance. Here the beast met me ; thus he fought ; thus I slew him ! The very dead lion taught Samson thankfulness; there was more honey in this thought than in the carcass. The mercies of God are ill bestowed upon us, if we cannot step aside to view the monuments of his deliver ances : dangers may be at once past and forgotten. As Samson had not found his honeycomb, if he had not turned aside to see his lion ; so we shall lose the comfort of God's benefits, if we do not renew our perils by meditation. Lest any thing should befall Samson, wherein is not some wonder, his lion doth more amaze him dead than alive ; for lo ! that carcass is made a hive, and the bitter ness of death is turned into the sweetness of honey ! The bee, a nice and dainty crea ture, builds her cells in an unsavoury car cass ; that carcass, that promised nothing but stench and annoyance, now offers com fort and refreshing, and, in a sort, pays Samson for the wrong offered. O the won derful goodness of our God, that can change our terrors into pleasure, and can make the greatest evils beneficial ! Is any man, by his humiliation under the hand of God, grown more faithful and conscionable ? There is honey out of the lion. Is any man by his temptation or fall become more circumspect ? There is also honey out of the lion. There is no Samson to whom every lion doth not yield honey. Every Christian is the better for his evils ; yea, Satan himself, in his exercise of God's chil dren, advantageth them. Samson doth not disdain these sweets, because he finds them uneleanly laid : his diet was strict, and forbade him anything that savoured of legal impurity ; yet he eats the honeycomb out of the belly of a dead beast. Good may not be refused, be cause the means are accidentally evil. Honey is honey still, though in a dead lion. Those are less wise and more scrupulous than Samson, which abhor the graces of God, because they find them in ill vessels. One cares not for the preacher's true doctrine, because his life is evil ; another will not take a good receipt from the hand of a physician, because he is given to unlawful studies ; a third will not receive a deserved contribution from the hands of a usurer. It is a weak neglect not to take the honey, because we hate the lion. God's children I 130 SAMSON'S MARRIAGE. [Book X. have right to their Father's blessings where soever they find them. The match is now made ; Samson (though a Nazarite) hath both a wedding and a feast. God never mislikes moderate solemnities in the severest life ; and yet this bridal feast was long, the space of seven days. If Samson had matched with the best Israelite, this celebration had been no greater ; neither had this perhaps been so long, if the custom of the place had not required it. Now I do not hear him plead his Nazaritism, for a colour of singularity. It is both lawful and fit, in things not pro hibited, to conform ourselves to the man ners and rites of those with whom we live. That Samson might think it an honour to match with the Philistines, he, whom before the lion found alone, is now accom panied with thirty attendants : they called them companions, but they meant them for spies. The courtesies of the world are hollow and thankless ; neither doth it ever purpose So ill, as when it shows fairest. None are so near to danger, as those whom it entertains with smiles. While it frowns, we know what to trust to; but the favours of it are worthy of nothing but fears and suspicion. Open defiance is better than false love. Austerity had not made Samson uncivil : he knows now to entertain Philistines with a formal familiarity; and that his intellec tual parts might be approved answerable to his arms, he will first try masteries of wit, and set their brains on work with harmless thoughts : his riddle shall oppose them, and a deep wager shall bind the solution ; thirty shirts and thirty suits of raiment : neither their loss nor their gain could be much, be sides the victory being divided into thirty partners : but Samson's must needs be both Ways very large, who must give or receive thirty alone. The seven days of the feast are expiring, and yet they, which had been all this while devouring of Samson's meat, cannot tell who that eater should be from whence meat should come. In the course of nature, the strong feeder takes in meat, and sends out fllthiness ; but that meat and sweetness should come from a devouring stomach, was beyond their apprehension. And as fools and dogs used to begin in jest and end in earnest, so did these Phi listines ; and therefore they force the bride to entice her husband to betray himself. Covetousness and pride have made them impatient of loss ; and now they threat to fire her and her father's house, for recom pense of their entertainment, rather than they will lose a small wager to an Israelite. Somewhat of kin to these savage Phili stines, are those choleric gamesters, which if the dice be not their friend, fall out with God, curse (that which is not) fortune, strike their fellows, and are ready to take vengeance upon themselves: those men are unfit for sport, that lose their patience together with their wager. I do not wonder that a Philistine woman loved herself and her father's family more than an Israelitish bridegroom ; and if she bestowed tears upon her husband, for the ransom of them, Samson himself taught her this difference, " I have not told it my father or my mother, and should I tell it thee?" If she had not been as she was, she had neither done this to Samson, nor heard this from him : matrimonial respects are dearer than natural. It was the law of Him that ordained marriage (before ever parents were), that parents should be for saken for the husband or wife: but now Israelitish parents are worthy of more en tireness than a wife of the Philistines ; and yet whom the lion could not conquer, the tears of a woman have conquered. Samson never bewrayed infirmity but in uxorious- ness. What assurance can there be of him that hath a Philistine in his bosom ! Adam the most perfect man, Samson the strongest man, Solomon the wisest man, were be trayed with the flattery of their helpers. As there is no comfort comparable to a faithful yoke-fellow, so woe be to him that is matched with a Philistine ! It could not but much discontent Sam son; to see that his adversaries had ploughed with his heifer, and that upon his own back ; now therefore he pays his wager to their cost. Ascalon, the city of the Phili stines, is his wardrobe ; he fetches thence thirty suits, lined with the lives of their owners. He might with as much ease have slain these thirty companions, which were the authors of this evil; but his promise forbade him, while he was to clothe their bodies, to unclothe their souls ; and that Spirit of God, which stirred him up to re venge, directed him in the choice of the subjects. If we wonder to see thirty throats cut for their suits, we may easily know, that this was but the occasion of that slaughter, whereof the cause was their oppression and tyranny. David slew two hundred Philistines for their foreskins ; but the ground of this act was their hostility. It is just with God to destine what enemies he pleases to execution. It is not to be expostulated, why this man is stricken than another, when both are Philistines. Cont. IV.] SAMSON'S VICTORY. 131 CONTEMPLATION IV. — SAMSON S VICTORY. I can no more justify Samson in the leaving of his wife, than in the choosing her : he chose her, because she pleased him ; and because she despised him, he left her. Though her fear made her false to him in his riddle, yet she was true to his bed. That weak treachery was worthy of a check, not a desertion. All the pas sions of Samson were strong like himself; ¦but (as vehement motions are not lasting) this vehement wind is soon allayed ; and he is now returning with a kid to win her that had offended him, and to renew that feast which ended in her unkindness. Slight occasions may not break the knot of matri monial love ; and if any just offence have slackened it on either part, it must be fastened again by speedy reconciliation. Now Samson's father-in-law shows him self a Philistine, the true parent of her that betrayed her husband ; for no sooner is the bridegroom departed, than he changes his son : what pretence of friendship soever he make, a true Philistine will soon be weary of an Israelite. Samson had not so many days' liberty to enjoy his wedding, as he spent in celebrating it. Marriage hath been ever a sacred institution, and who but a Philistine would so easily vio late it? One of his thirty companions en joys his wife, together with his suit, and now laughs to be a partner of that bed whereon he was an attendant. The good nature of Samson, having forgotten the first wrong, carried him to a proffer of fami liarity, and is repulsed ; but with a gentle violence : "I thought thou hadst hated her." Lawful wedlock may not be dis solved by imaginations, but by proofs. Who shall stay Samson from his own wife ? He that slew the lion in the way pf his wooing, and before whom thousands of the Philistines could not stand, yet suf fers himself to be resisted by him that was once his father-in-law, without any return of private violence. Great is the force of duty, ofice con ceived, even to the most unworthy. This thought (I was a son) binds the hands of Samson ; else how easily might he, that slew those thirty Philistines for their suits, have destroyed this family for his wife? How unnatural are those mouths that can curse the loins from which they are pro ceeded, and those hands that dare lift up themselves against the means of their life and being ! I never read that Samson slew any but by the motion and assistance of the Spirit of God : and the divine wisdom hath re served these offenders to another revenge. Judgment must descend from others to them, since the wrong proceeded from others by them. In the very marriage, God foresaw and intended this parting, and in the parting, this punishment upon the Philistines. If the Philistines had not been as much enemies to God as to Sam son — enemies to Israel in their oppression, no less than to Samson in this particular injury — that purpose and execution of re venge had been no better than wicked. Now he to whom vengeance belongs, sets him on work, and makes the act justice : when he commands, even very cruelty is obedience. It was a busy and troublesome project of Samson, to use the foxes for his revenge ; for not without great labour, and many hands, could so many wild creatures be got together ; neither could the wit of Sam son want other devices of hostility : but he meant to find out such a punishment as might in some sort answer the offence, and might imply as much contempt as tres pass. By wiles, seconded with violence, iiad they wronged Samson, in extorting his secret, and taking away his wife : and what other emblems could these foxes tied together present unto them, than wiliness, combined with force, to work mischief? These foxes destroy their corn, before he which sent them destroy the persons. Those judgments which begin in outward tilings, end in the owners. A stranger that had been of neither side, would have said, What pity it is to see good corn thus spoiled ! If the creature be considered apart from the owners, it is good; and therefore if it be mispent; the abuse reflects upon the Maker of it ; but if it be looked upon, with respect to an ill master, the best use of it is to perish. He, therefore, that slew the Egyptian cattle with murrain, and smote their fruit with hailstones ; he that consumed the vines of Israel with the palmer-worm, and caterpillar, and canker- worm, sent also foxes by the hand of Sam son, into the fields ofthe Philistines. Their corn was too good for them to enjoy, not too good for the foxes to hum up. God had rather his creato-res should perish any way, than serve for the lust ofthe wicked. There could not be such secresy in the catching of three hundred foxes, but it might well be known who had procured them. Rumour will swiftly fly of things not done ; but of a thing so notoriously executed, it is no marvel if fame be a blab. i2 132 SAMSON'S VICTORY. [Book X. The mention of the offence draws in the provocation ; and now the wrong to Sam son is scanned and revenged ; because the fields of the Philistines are burned for the wrong done to Samson by the Timnite and his daughter, therefore the Philistines burn the Timnite and his daughter. The tying of the fire-brand between two foxes was not so witty a policy, as the setting a fire of dissension betwixt the Philistines. What need Samson be his own execution er, when his enemies will undertake that charge ? There can be no more pleasing prospect to an Israelite, than to see the Philistines together by the ears. : If the wife of Samson had not feared the fire for herself and her father's house, she had not betrayed her husband ; her husband had not thus plagued the Phili stines ; the Philistines had not consumed her and her father with fire : now she leaps into that flame which she meant to avoid. That evil which the wicked feared, meets them in their flight. How many, in a fear of poverty, seek to gain unconscionably, and die beggars ! How many, to shun pain and danger, have yielded to evil, and in the long run have been met in the teeth with that mischief which they had hoped to have left behind them ! How many, in a desire to eschew the shame of men, have fallen into the confusion of God ! Both good and evil are sure paymasters at the last. He that was so soon pacified towards his wife, could not but have thought this revenge more than enough, if he had not rather wielded God's quarrel than his own : he knew that God had raised him up on purpose to be a scourge to the Philistines, whom as yet he had angered more than punished. As if these, therefore, had been out-flourishes before the fray, he stirs up his courage, and strikes them, both hip and thigh, with a mighty plague. That God which can do nothing imperfectly, where he begins either mercy or judgment, will not leave till he have happily finished. As it is in his favours, so in his punishments, one stroke draws on another. The Israelites were but slaves, and the Philistines were their masters ; so much more indignantly, therefore, must they needs take it, to be thus affronted by one of their own vassals : yet shall we commend the mo deration of these pagans. Samson, being not mortally wronged by one Philistine, falls foul upon the whole nation : the Phi listines, heinously offended by Samson, do not fall upon the whole tribe of Judah, but, being mustered together, call to them for satisfaction from the person offending. The same hand of God, which wrought Samson to revenge, restrained them from it. It is no thank to themselves, that some times wicked men cannot be cruel. The men of Judah are by their fear made friends to their tyrants, and traitors to their friend ; it was in their cause that Samson had shed blood, and yet they conspire with the Philistines to destroy their own flesh and blood. So shall the Philistines be quit with Israel, that as Samson by Philistines revenged himself of Philistines, so they of an Israelite, ,by the hand of Israelites. That which open enemies dare not attempt, they work by false brethren ; and these are so much more perilous, as they are more en tire. It had been no less easy for Samson to have slain those thousands of Judah that came to bind him, than those other of the Philistines that meant to kill him bound. And what if he had said, Are you turned traitors to your deliverer ? your blood be upon your own heads ! But the Spirit of God (without whom he could not kill either beast or man) would never stir him up to kill his brethren, though degenerated into Philistines ; they have more power to bind him than he to kill them. Israelitish blood was precious to him, that made no more scruple of killing a Philistine than a lion. That bondage and usury, that was allowed to a Jew from a pagan, might not be ex acted from a Jew. The Philistines, that had before ploughed with Samson's heifer, in the case of the riddle, are now ploughing a worse furrow with a heifer more his own. I am ashamed to hear these cowardly Jews say, " Know est thou not that the Philistines are lords over us ? Why hast thou done this unto us ? We are therefore come to bind thee." Whereas they should have said, We find these tyrannical Philistines to usurp do minion over us ; thou hast happily begun to shake off their yoke, and now we are come to second thee with our service ; the valour ,gf such a captain shall easily lead us forth toiliberty. We are ready either to die with thee, or to be freed by thee. A fearful man can never be a true friend ; rather than incur danger, he will be false to his own soul. O cruel mercy of these men of Judah ! " We will not kill thee, but we will bind thee, and deliver thee into the hands of the Philistines, that they may kill thee ;" as if it had not been much worse to die an ignominious and tormenting death, by the hands of the Philistines, than to be at once despatched by them which C6nt. IV; ] SAMSON'S VICTORY. 133 wished either his life safe, or his death easy. When Saul was pursued by the Phili stines upon the mountains of Gilboa, he could say to his armour-bearer, " Draw forth thy sword, and kill me, lest the un- circumcised come and thrust me through, and mock me ;" and, at last, would rather fall upon his own sword than theirs : and yet these cousins of Samson can say, " We will not kill thee, but we will bind thee, and deliver thee." It was no excuse to these Israelites, that Samson's binding had more hope than his death. It was more in the extraordinary mercy of God, than their will, that he was not tied with his last bonds. Such is the goodness of the Almighty, that he turns the cruel intentions of wicked men to an advantage. Now these Jews, that might have let themselves loose from their own bondage, are binding their deliverer, whom yet they knew able to have resisted. In the greatest strength, there is use of patience : there was more fortitude in this suffering than in his former actions. Samson abides to be tied by his own countrymen, that he may have the glory of freeing himself victori ously. Even so, O Saviour! our better Nazarite ! thou which couldst have called to thy Father, and have had twelve legions of angels for thy rescue, wouldst be bound voluntarily, that thou mightest triumph ; so the blessed martyrs were racked, and would not be loosed, because they expected a better resurrection. If we be not as well ready to suffer ill, as to do good, we are not fit for the consecration of God. To see Samson thus strongly manacled, and exposed to their full revenge, could not but be a glad spectacle to these Philistines ; and their joy was so full, that it could not but fly forth of their mouths in shouting and laughter : whom they saw loose with terror, it is pleasure to see bound. It is the sport of the spiritual Philistines, to see any of God's Nazarites fettered with the cords of iniquity ; and their imps are ready to say, Aha ! so would we have it. But the event answers their false joy, with that clause of triumph, " Rejoice not over me, O mine enemy ; though I fall, yet I shall rise again." How soon was the counte nance of these Philistines changed, and their shouts turned unto shriekings ! " The Spirit of the Lord came upon Samson ;" and then, what are cords to the Almighty? His new bonds are as flax burnt with fire ; and he rouses up himself, like that young lion whom he first encountered, and flies upon those cowardly adversaries, who, if they had not seen his cords, durst not have seen his face. If they had been so many devils as men, they could not have stood before the Spirit which lifted up the heart and hand of Samson. Wicked men never see fairer prospect, than when they are upon the very threshold of destruction. Security and ruin are so close bordering upon each other, that, where we see the face of the one, we may be sure the other is at his back. Thus didst thou, O blessed Saviour, when thou wert fastened to the cross, when thou layest bound in the grave with the cords of death — thus didst thou miraculously raise up thyself, vanquish thine enemies, and lead captivity captive ! Thus do all thy holy ones, when they seem most forsaken, and laid open to the insul-, tation of the world, find thy Spirit mighty to their deliverance, and the discomfiture of their malicious adversaries. Those three thousand Israelites were not so ill advised, as to come up into the rock un weaponed to apprehend Samson. Samson therefore might have had his choice of swords or spears for his skirmish with the Philistines ; yet he leaves all the munition of Israel, and finding the new jaw-bone of an ass, takes that up in his hand, and, with that base instrument of death, sends a thousand Philistines to their place. All the swords and shields of the armed Philis tines cannot resist that contemptible engine, which hath now left a thousand bodies as dead as the carcass of that beast whose bone it was. This vietory was not in the weapon, was not in the arm ; it was in the Spirit of God, which moved the weapon in the arm. O God! if the means be weak, yet thou art strong! Through God we shall do great acts ; yea, I can do all things through him that strengtheneth me. Seest thou a poor Christian, which by weak coun cil hath obtained to overcome a tempta tion? there is the Philistine vanquished with a sorry jaw-bone. It is no marvel, if he were thus admirably strong and victorious, whose bodily strength God meant to make a type of the spiritual power of Christ. And behold, as the three thousand of Judah stood still gazing, with their weapons in their hands, whilst Samson alone subdued the Philistines ; so did men and angels stand looking upon the glorious achievements ofthe Son of God, who might justly say, " I have trode the wine-press alone." Both the Samsons complained of thirst. The same God, which gave this champion victory, gave him also refreshing ; and by the same means. The same bone yields 134 SAMSON'S END. [Book X. him both conquest 'and life, and is, of a weapon of offence, turned into a well of water. He that fetched water out of the flint for Israel, fetches it out of a bone for Samson. What is not possible to the in finite power of that Almighty Creator, that made all things of nothing ! He can give Samson honey from the mouth of the lion, and water from the mouth of the ass. Who would not cheerfully depend upon that God, which can fetch moisture out of dry ness, and life out of death ? CONTEMPLATION V SAMSON S END. I cannot wonder more at Samson's strength, than his weakness. He, that began to cast away his love upon a wife of the Philistines, goes on to mispend himself upon the harlots of the Philistines : he did not so much overcome the men, as the women overcame him. His affections blind ed him first, ere the Philistines could do it : would he else, after the effusion of so much of their blood, have suffered his lust to carry him within their walls, as one that cared more for his pleasure than his lite ? O strange debauchedness and pre sumption of a Nazarite ! The Philistines are up in arms to kill him : he offers him self to their city, to their stews, and dares expose his life to one of their harlots whom he had slaughtered. I would have looked to have seen him betake himself to his Stronger rock than that of Etam, and, by his austere devotion, to seek protection of Him of whom he received strength : but now, as if he had forgotten his consecra- tioh, I find him turned Philistine for his bed, and of a Nazarite scarce a man. In vain doth he nourish his hair, while he feeds these passions. How easily do vigour of body), and infirmity of mind, lodge under one roof! On the contrary, a weakish out side is a strong motive to mortification. Samson's victories have subdued him, and have made him first a slave to lewd desires, and then to the Philistines. I may safely say, that more vessels miscarry with a fair gale, than with a tempest. Yet was not Samsoh so blinded with lust, as not at all to look before him : he fore saw the morning Would be dangerous ; the bed of his fornication, therefore, could hold him no longer than midnight. Then he rises, and, in a mock of those ambushes which the Azzahites laid for him, he carries away the gates wherein they thought to have engaged him. If a temptation have drawn us aside to lie down to sin, it is happy for us, if we can arise, ere we be surprised with judgment. Samson had not left his strength in the bed of a harlot, neither had that God, which gave it him, stripped him of it with his clothes, when he laid him down in uncleanness. His mercy uses not to take vantage of our un worthiness, but even, when we cast him off, holds us fast. That bountiful hand leaves us rich of common graces, when we have mispent our better store : likeas our first parents, when they had spoiled them selves of the image of their Creator, yet were left wealthy of noble faculties of the soul. I find Samson come off from his sin with safety ; he runs away lightly with a heavier weight than the gates of Azzah — the bur den of an ill act. Present impunity argues not an abatement of the wickedness of his sin, or of the dislike of God. Nothing is so worthy of pity, as sinners' peace. Good is not therefore good, because it prospers, but because it is commanded. Evil is not evil because it is punished, but because it is forbidden. If the holy parents of Samson lived to see these outrages of their Nazarite, I doubt whether they did not repent them of their joy to hear the news of a son. It is a shame to see how he, that might not drink wine, is drunk with the cup of forni>- cations. His lUst carries him from Azzah to the plain of Sorek, and now hath found a Delilah that shall pay him for all his former uncleanness. Sin is steep and slip pery ; and if after one fall, we have found where to stand, it is the praise, not of our footing, but of the hand of God. The princes of the Philistines knew al ready where Samson's weakness lay, though not his strength ; and therefore they would entice his harlot by gifts to entice him, by her dalliance, to betray himself. It is no marvel if she, which would be filthy, would be also perfidious. How could Samson choose but think, if lust had not bewitched him, She, whose body is mercenary to me, will easily sell me to others ; she will be false, if she will be a harlot : a wide con science will swallow any sin. Those that have once thralled themselves to a known evil, can make no other difference of sins, but their own loss, or advantage. A liar can steal ; a thief can kill ; a cruel man can be a traitor; a drunkard can falsify: wickedness, once entertained, can put on any shape. Trust him in nothing, that makes not a conscience of every thing. Was there ever' such another motion made to a reasonable man? "Tell me Cont. V.' SAMSON'S END. 135 wherein thy great strength lieth, and where with thou mayest be bound to do thee hurt." Who would not have spurned such a suitor out of doors ? What will not im pudency ask, or stupidity receive ? He that killed the thousand Philistines for coming to bind him, endures this harlot of the Phi listines to consult with himself of binding him ; and when, upon the trial of a false answer, he saw so apparent treachery, yet wilfully betrays Ms life by her to his ene- , mies. All sins, all passions, have power to infatuate a man, but lust most of all. Never man, that had drunk flagons of wine, had less reason than this Nazarite. Many a one loses his life, but this casts it away ; not in hatred of himself, but in love to a strumpet. We wonder that a man could possibly be so sottish, and yet we ourselves by temptation become no less insensate. Sinful pleasures, like a common Delilah, lodge in our bosoms ; we know they aim at nothing but the death of our soul ; we will yield to them, and die. Every willing sinner is a Samson ; let us not inveigh against his senselessness, but our own. Nothing is so gross and unreasonable to a well-disposed mind, which temptation will not represent fit and plausible. No soul can, out of his own strength, secure himself from that sin which he most detesteth. As a hoodwinked man sees some little glimmering of light, but not enough to guide him ; so did Samson, who had reason enough left him to make trial of Delilah, by a crafty misinformation; not enough upon that trial, to distrust and hate her ; he had not wit enough to deceive her thrice, not enough to keep himself from being de ceived by her. It is not so great wisdom to prove them whom we distrust, as it is folly to trust them whom we have found treacherous. Thrice had he seen the Phi listines in her chamber, ready to surprise him upon her bonds ; and yet will needs be a slave to his traitor. Warning not taken is a certain presage of destruction ; and if, once neglected, it receive pardon, yet thrice is desperate. What man would ever play thus with his own ruin ? His harlot binds him, and calls in her executioners to cut his throat ; he rises to save his own life, and suffers them to carry away theirs in peace. Where is the courage of Samson? where his zeal? He that killed the Philistines for their clothes, he that slew a thousand of them in the field at once in this quarrel, now suffers them in his chamber unrevenged. Whence is this? His hands were strong, but his heart was effeminate; his harlot had diverted his affection. Whosoever slackens the reins to his sensual appetites shall soon grow unfit for the calling of God. Samson hath broke the green withes, the new ropes, the woof of his hair, and yet still suffers himself fettered with those in visible bonds of a harlot's love ; and can endure her to say, " How canst thou say I love thee, when thy heart is not with me? Thou hast mocked me these three times;" whereas he should rather have said unto her, How canst thou challenge any love from me, that hast thus thrice sought my life? O, canst thou think my mocks a sufficient revenge of this treachery? But, contrarily, he melts at this fire ; and by her importunate insinuations, is wrought against himself. Weariness of solicitation hath won some to those actions, which at the first motion they despised ; likeas we see some suitors are despatched, not for the equity of the cause, but the trouble of the prosecution ; because it is more easy to yield, not more reasonable. It is more safe to keep ourselves out of the noise of suggestions, than to stand upon our power of denial. Who can pity the loss of that strength which was so abused? Who can pity him the loss of his locks, which, after so many warnings, can sleep in the lap of Delilah ? It is but just that he should rise up from thence shaven and feeble : not a Nazarite, scarce a man. ff his strength had lain in his hair, it had been out of himself; it was not therefore in his locks — it was in his consecration, whereof that hair was a sign. If the razor had come sooner upon his head, he had ceased to be a Nazarite, and the gift of God had at once ceased with the (Calling of God ; not for the want of that excretion, but for want of obedience. ff God withdraw his graces, when he is too much provoked, who can complain of his mercy ? He that sleeps in sin must look to wake in loss and weakness. Could Samson think, Though I tell her my strength lies in my hair, yet she will not cut it ; or though she do cut my hair, yet shall I not lose my strength ; that now he rises and shakes himself, in hope of his former vi gour? Custom of success makes men con fident in their sins, and causes them to mistake an arbitrary tenure for a perpetuity. His eyes were the first offenders, which betrayed him to lust; and now they are first pulled out, and he is led a blind cap tive to Azzah, where he was first capti vated to his lust. The Azzahites, which lately saw him, not without terror, running lightly away with their gates at midnight, see him now in his own perpetual night, 136 SAMSON'S END. [Book X. struggling with his chains; and, that he may not want pain, together with his bon dage he must grind in his prison. As he passed the street, every boy among the Philistines could throw stones at him, every woman could laugh and shout at him ; and what one Philistine doth not say, while he lashes him unto blood, There is for my brother, or my kinsman, whom thou slewest ? Who can look to run away with a sin, when Samson, a Nazarite, is thus plagued? This great heart could not but have broken with indignation, if it had not pacified itself with the conscience of the just desert of all this vengeance. It is better for Samson to be blind in prison, than to abuse his eyes in Sorek: yea, I may safely say, he was more blind when he saw licentiously, than now that he sees not ; he was a greater slave when he served his affections, than now in grinding for the Philistines. The loss of his eyes shows him his sin; neither could he see how ill he had done, till he saw not. Even yet, still the God of mercy looked upon the blindness of Samson, and in these fetters enlarged his heart from the worst prison of his sin : his hair grew, together with his repentance, and his strength with his hair. God's merciful humiliations of his own are sometimes so severe, that they seem to differ little from desertions ; yet, at the worst, he loves us bleeding ; and when we have smarted enough, we shall feel it. What thankful idolaters were these Phi listines I They could not but know that their bribes, and their Delilah, had delivered Samson to them, and yet they sacrifice to their Dagon ; and, as those that would be liberal in casting favours upon a senseless idol (of whom they could receive none), they cry out, " Our god hath delivered our enemy into our hands." Where was their Dagon, when a thousand of his clients were slain with an ass's jaw? There was more strength in that bone, than in all the makers of this god ; and yet these vain pagans say, " Our god." It is the quality of superstition to misinterpret all events, and to feed itself with the conceit of those favours, which are so far from being done, that their authors never were. Why do not we learn zeal of idolaters ? and if they be so forward in acknowledgment of their deliverances to a false deity, how cheerfully should we ascribe ours to the true! O God ! whatsoever be the means, thou art the author of all our success. " O that men would praise the Lord for his good ness, and tell the wonders that he doth for the sons of men !" No musician would serve for this feast but Samson: he must now be their sport which was once their terror ; that he might want no sorrow, scorn is added to his mi* sery: every wit and hand plays upon him, Who is not ready to cast his bone and his jest at such a captive? So as doubtless he wished himself no less deaf than blind, and that his soul might have gone out with his eyes. Oppression is able to make a wise man mad ; and the greater the courage is, the more painful the insultation. Now Samson is punished, shall the Phi listines escape? ff the judgment of God begin at his own, what shall become of his enemies ? This advantage shall Samson make of their tyranny, that now death is no punishment to him : his soul shall fly forth in this bitterness, without pain ; and that his dying revenge shall be no less sweet to him, than the liberty of his former life. He could not but feel God mocked through him ; and therefore, while they are scoffing, he prays : his seriousness hopes to pay them for all those jests. If he could have been thus earnest with God in his prosperity, the Philistines had wanted this laughing-stock. No devotion is so fer vent, as that which arises from extremity ; " O Lord God, I pray thee think upon me ; O God, I beseech thee, strengthen me at this time only." Though Samson's hair was shorter, yet he knew God's hand was not. As one, therefore, that had yet eyes enough to see him that was invisible, and whose faith was recovered before his strength, he sues to that God, which was a party in this indignity, for power to re venge his wrongs, more than his own. It is zeal that moves him, and not malice. His renewed faith tells him, that he was destined to plague the Philistines ; and reason tells him, that his blindness puts him out of the hope of such another op portunity. Knowing, therefore, that this play of the Philistines must end in his death, he re-collects all the forces of his soul and body, that his death may be a punishment, instead of a disport, and that his soul may be more victorious in the parting, than in the animation ; and so addresses himself, both to die and kill, as one whose soul shall not feel his own dis solution, while it shall carry so many thou sand Philistines with it to the pit. All the acts of Samson are for wonder, not for imitation. So didst thou, O blessed Savi our, our better Samson, conquer in dying ; and triumphing upon the chariot of the cross, didst lead captivity captive : the law, sin, death, hell, had never been vanquished. CONT. VI.] MICAH'S IDOLATRY. 137 but by thy death. All our life, liberty, and glory, spring out of thy most precious blood. CONTEMPLATION VI. MICAH'S IDOLATRY. The mother of Micah hath lost her sil ver, and now she falls to cursing. She did afterwards but change the form of her god: her silver was her god, ere it did put on the fashion of an image, else she had not so much cursed to lose it, if it had not too much possessed her in the keeping. A carnal heart cannot forego that wherein it delights, without impatience; cannot be impatient without curses ; whereas the man, that hath learned to enjoy God, and use the world, smiles at a shipwreck, and pities a thief, and cannot curse, but pray. Micah had so little grace as to steal from his mother ; and that out of wantonness, not out of necessity; for if she had not been rich, so much could not have been stolen from her : and now he hath so much grace as to restore it ; her curses have fetched again her treasures. He cannot so much love the money, as he fears her imprecations. Wealth seems too dear, bought with a curse. Though his fingers were false, yet his heart was tender. Many that make not conscience of committing sin, yet make conscience of facing it : it is well for them that they are but novices in evil. Those whom custom hath fleshed in sin, can either deny and forswear, or excuse and defend it : their seared heart cannot feel the gnawing of any remorse ; and their forehead hath learned to be as imprudent, as their heart is senseless. I see no argument of any holiness in the mother of Micah : her curses were sin to herself, yet Micah dares not but fear them. I know not whether the causeless curse be more worthy of pity or derision ; it hurts the author, not his adversary : but the de served curses, that fall even from unholy mouths, are worthy to be feared : how much more should a man hold himself blasted with the just imprecations of the godly! What metal are those made of, that can applaud themselves in the bitter curses which their oppressions have wrung from the poor, and rejoice in these signs of their prosperity ! Neither yet was Micah more stricken with his mother's curses, than with the conscience of sacrilege : so soon as he finds there was a purpose of devotion in this treasure, he dares not conceal it, to the prejudice (as he thought) of God, more than of his mother. What shall we say to the palate of those men, which, as they find no good relish but in stolen waters, so best in those which are stolen from the fountain of God I How soon hath the old woman changed her note ! Even now she passed an indefinite curse upon her son for stealing, and now she blesses him abso lutely for restoring : " Blessed be my son of the Lord." She hath forgotten the theft, when she sees the restitution : how much more shall the God of mercies be more pleased with our confession, than provoked with our sin I I doubt not but this silver and this su perstition came out of Egypt, together with the mother of Micah. This history is not so late in time, as in place : for the tribe of Dan was not yet settled in that first di vision of the promised land : so as this old woman had seen both the idolatry of Egypt, and the golden calf in the wilderness, and, no doubt, contributed some of her ear-rings to that deity ; and after all the plagues which she saw inflicted upon her brethren for that idol of Horeb and Baal-peor, she still reserves a secret love to superstition, and now shows it. Where misreligion hath once possessed itself of the heart, it is very hardly cleansed out ; but (like the plague) it will hang in the very clothes, and, after long lurking, break forth in an unexpected infection ; and old wood is the aptest to take this fire. After all the air ing in the desert, Micah's mother will smell of Egypt. It had been better the silver had been stolen than thus bestowed ; for now they have so employed it, that it hath stolen away their hearts from God ; and yet, while it is molten into an image, they think it dedicated to the Lord. If religion might be judged according to the intention, there should scarce be any idolatry in the world. This woman loved her silver enough ; and if she had not thought this costly piety worth thanks, she knew which way to have employed her stock to advantage. Even evil actions have ofttimes good meanings, and these good meanings are answered with evil recompenses. Many a one bestows their cost, their labour, their blood, and receives torment instead of thanks. Behold a superstitious son of a super stitious mother ! she makes a god, and he harbours it ! Yea (as the stream is com monly broader than the head), he exceeds his mother in evil: he hath a house of gods, an ephod, teraphim; and that he might be complete in his devotion, he makes his son his priest, and entails that sin upon 138 MICAH'S IDOLATRY. [Book X. his son which he received from his mother ! Those sins which nature conveys not to us, we have by imitation. Every action and gesture of the parents is an example to the child ; and the mother, as she is more tender over her son, so, by the power of a reciprocal love, she can work most upon his inclination. Whence it is, that, in the history of the Israelitish kings, the mother's name is commonly noted ; and, as civilly, so also morally, the birth follows the belly. Those sons may bless their second birth, that are delivered from the sins of their education. Who cannot but think how far Micah overlooked all his fellow Israelites, and thought them profane and godless in com parison of himself! How did he secretly clap himself on the breast, as the man whose happiness it was to engross religion from all the tribes of Israel, and little can imagine, that the further he runs, the more out of the way. Can an Israelite be thus paganish? O Micah, how hath supersti tion bewitched thee, that thou canst not see rebellion in every of these actions, yea, in every circumstance rebellion ! What, more gods than one ! a house of gods, be sides God's house ! an image of silver, to the invisible God! an ephod, and no priest! a priest, besides the family of Levi ! a priest of thine own begetting, of thine own consecration ! What monsters doth man's imagination produce, when it is forsaken of God ! It is well seen there is no king in Israel. If God had been their king, his laws had ruled them ; if Moses or Jo shua had been their king, their sword had awed them ; if any other, the courses of Israel had not been so heedless. We are beholden to government for order, for peace, for religion. Where there is no king, every one will be a king, yea, a god to himself. We are worthy of no thing but confusion, if we bless not God for authority. It is no marvel, if Levites wandered for maintenance, while there was no king in Israel. The tithes and offerings were their due ; if these had been paid, none of the holy tribe needed to shift his station. Even where royal power seconds the claim of the Levite, the injustice of men shortens his right. What should become of the Levites, if there were no king ? and what of the church, if no Levites ? No king, ¦therefore, no church. How could the im potent child live without a nurse ? Kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nurses, saith God. Nothing more argues the disorder of any church, or the decay of religion, than the forced straggling of the Levites. There is hope of growth, when Micah rides to seek a Levite ; but when the Levite comes to seek a service of Micah, it is a sign of gasping devotion. Micah was no obscure man : all Mount Ephraim could not but take notice of his domestical gods. This Levite could not but hear of his disposition, of his misdevo- tion ; yet want of maintenance, no less than conscience, draws him on to the danger of idolatrous patronage. Holiness is not tied to any profession. Happy were it for the church, if the clergy could be a privilege from lewdness. When need meets with unconscionableness, all conditions are easily swallowed, of unlawful entrances, of wicked executions. Ten shekels, and a suit of apparel, and his diet, are good wages for a needy Levite. He that could bestow eleven hundred shekels upon his puppets, can afford but ten to his priest ; so hath he at once a rich idol, and a beggarly priest. Whosoever affects to serve God cheap, shows that he makes God but a stale to Mammon. Yet was Micah a kind patron, though not liberal. He calls the young Levite his father, and uses him as his son ; and what he wants in means, supplies in affection, It were happy, if Christians could imitate the love of idolaters towards them which serve at the altar. Micah made a shift with the priesthood of his own son ; yet, that his heart checks him in it, appears both by the change, and his contentment in the change : " Now I know that the Lord will be good to me, seeing I have a Levite to my priest." Therefore, while his priest was no Levite, he sees there was cause why God should not be good to him. If the Levite had not come to offer his service, Micah's son had been a lawful priest. Many times the conscience runs away smoothly with an unwarrantable ac tion, and rests itself upon those grounds, which afterwards it sees cause to condemn. It is a sure way, therefore, to inform our selves thoroughly ere we settle our choice, that we be not driven to reverse our acts with late shame, and unprofitable repent ance. Now did Micah begin to see some little glimpse of his own error : he saw his priesthood faulty; he saw not the faults of his ephod, of his images, of his gods : and yet (as if he had thought all had been well when he had amended one) he says, " Now I know the Lord will be good to me." The carnal heart pleases itself with an outward formality, and so delights to CONT. L] THE LEVITE'S CONCUBINE. 139 flatter itself, as that it thinks if one circum stance be right, nothing can be amiss. Israel was at this time extremely cor rupted ; yet the spies of the Danites had taken notice even of this young Levite, and are glad to make use of his priesthood. If they had but gone up to Shiloh, they might have consulted with the ark of God; but worldly minds are not curious in their holy services. If they have a god, an ephod, a priest, it suffices them. They had rather enjoy a false worship with ease, than to take pains for the true. Those that are curious in their diet, in their pur chases, in their attire, in their contracts, yet in God's business are very indifferent. The author of lies sometimes speaks truth for an advantage ; and, from his mouth, this flattering Levite speaks what he knew would please, not what he knew would fall out. The event answers his prediction, and now the spies magnify him to their fellows. Micah's idol is a god, and the Levite is his oracle. In matter of judg ment, to be guided only by the event, is the way to error. Falsehood shall be truth, and Satan an angel of light, if we follow this rule. Even very conjectures sometimes happen right. A prophet, or a dreamer, may give a true sign or wonder, and yet himself say, " Let us go after other gods." A small thing can win credit with weak minds, which, where they have onoe sped, cannot distrust. The idolatrous Danites are so besotted with this success, that they will rather steal than want the gods of Micah ; and because the gods without the priest can do them less service than the priest without the gods, therefore they steal the priest with the gods. O miserable Israelites, that could think that a god which could be stolen! — that could look for protection from that which could not keep itself from stealing, which was won by their theft, not their devotion ! Could they worship those idols more devoutly than Micah that made them ? And if they could not protect their maker from robbery, how shall they pro tect their thieves ? If it had been the holy ark of the true God, how could they think it would bless their violence, or that it would abide to be translated by rapine and extortion? Now their superstition hath made them mad upon a god, they must have him, by what means they care not, though they offend the true God by stealing a false. Sacrilege is fit to be the first ser vice of an idol. The spies of Dan had been courteously entertained by Micah ; thus they reward his hospitality. It is no trusting the honesty of idolaters ; if they have once cast off the true God, whom will they respect ? It seems Levites did not more want maintenance, than Israel wanted Levites. Here was a tribe of Israel without a spiri tual guide. The withdrawing of due means is the way to the utter desolation of the church: rare offerings make cold altars. There needed small force to draw this Levite to change his charge : " Hold thy peace, and come, and be our father and priest : whether is it better," &c. Here is no patience, but joy. He that was won with ten shekels, may be lost with eleven : when maintenance and honour call him, he goes undriven, and rather steals himself away, than is stolen. The Levite had too many gods, to make conscience of pleasing one. There is nothing more inconstant than a Levite that seeks nothing but him self. Thus the wild-fire of idolatry, which lay before couched in the private hall of Micah, now flies furiously through all the tribe of Dan, who, like the thieves that have carried away plaguy clothes, have insensibly in fected themselves and their posterity to death. Heresy and superstition have small beginnings, dangerous proceedings, perni cious conclusions. This contagion is like a canker, which at the first is scarce visible ; afterwards it eats away the flesh, and con sumes the body. BOOK XI. CONTEMPLATION I. — THE LEVITe's CONCUBINE. There is no complaint of a publicly dis ordered state, where a Levite is not at one end of it, either as an agent or a patient. In the idolatry of Micah and the Danites, a Levite was an actor : in the violent un cleanness of Gibeah, a Levite suffers. No tribe shall sooner feel the want of govern ment than that of Levi. The law of God allowed the Levite a wife ; human connivance, a concubine : neither did the Jewish concubine differ from a wife, but in some outward compli ments ; both might challenge all the true essence of marriage. So little was the dif ference, that the father of the concubine is called the father-in-law to the Levite. She, whom ill custom had of a wife made a con cubine, is now, by her lust, of a concubine made a harlot; her fornication, together 140 THE LEVITE'S CONCUBINE. [Book XI. with the change of her bed, hath changed her abode. Perhaps her own conscience thrust her out of doors ; perhaps the just severity of her husband. Dismission was too easy a penalty for that which God had sentenced with death. She that had de served to be abhorred of her husband, seeks shelter from her father. Why would her father suffer his house to be defiled with an adulteress, though out of his own loins? Why did he not rather say, What, dost thou think to find my house an harbour for thy sins ? While thou wert a wife to thine husband, thou wert a daughter to me ; now thou art neither : thou art not mine, I gave thee to thy husband ; thou art not thy husband's, thou hast betrayed his bed ; thy fllthiness hath made thee thine own, and thine adulterer's. Go seek thine entertain ment where thou hast lost thine honesty : thy lewdness hath brought a necessity of shame upon thy abettors. How can I countenance thy person, and abandon thy sin ? I had rather ' be a just man, than a kind father. Get thee home, therefore, to thy husband, crave his forgiveness upon thy knees, redeem his love with thy mo desty and obedience : when his heart is once open to thee, my doors shall not be shut. In the mean time, know, I can be no father to an harlot. Indulgence of pa rents is the refuge of vanity, the bawd of wickedness, the bane of children. How easily is that thief induced to steal, that knows his receiver ! When the lawlessness of youth knows where to find pity and toleration, what mischief can it forbear ! By how much better this Levite was, so much more injurious was the concubine's sin. What husband would not have said, She is gone, let shame and grief go with her ! I shall find one no less pleasing, and more faithful : or, if it be not too much mercy in me to yield to a return, let her that hath offended seek me. What more direct way is there to a resolved looseness, than to let her see I cannot want her ? The good nature of this Levite cast off all these terms ; and now, after four months' absence, sends to seek for her that had run away from her fidelity ; and now he thinks, She sinned against me ; perhaps she hath repented ; perhaps shame and fear have withheld her from returning ; perhaps she will be more loyal for her sin, If her im portunity should win me, half the thanks were lost ; but now, my voluntary offer of favour shall oblige her for ever. Love pro cures truer servitude than necessity. Mercy becomes well the heart of any man, but most of a Levite. He that had helped to offer so many sacrifices to God, for the multitude of every Israelite's sins, saw how proportionable it was, that man should not hold one sin unpardonable. He had served at the altar to no purpose, if he, whose trade was to sue for mercy, had not at all learned to practise it. And if the reflection of mercy wrought this in a servant, what shall we expect from him whose essence is mercy ! O God ! we do every day break the holy covenant of our love ; we prostitute ourselves to every filthy temptation, and then run and hide ourselves in our father's house, the world ! If thou didst not seek us, we should never return ; if thy gracious proffer did not prevent us, we should be incapable of forgiveness. It were abundant goodness in thee to receive us, when we should en treat thee ; but lo! thou entreatest us that we would receive thee ! How should we now adore and imitate thy mercy, since there is more reason we should sue to each other, than that thou shouldst sue to us, because we may as well offend as be of fended ! I do not see the woman's father make any means for reconciliation ; but when re mission came home to his doors, no man could entertain it more thankfully. The nature of many men is forward to accept, and negligent to sue for ; they can spend secret wishes upon that which shall cost them no endeavour. Great is the power of love, which can in a sort undo evils past ; if not for the act, yet for the remembrance.-Where true affection was once conceived, it is easily pieced again, after the strongest interrup tion. Here needs no tedious recapitula tion of wrongs ; no importunity of suit : the unkindnesses are forgotten, their love is renewed; and now the Levite is not a stranger, but a son : by how much more willingly he came, by so much more un willingly he is dismissed. The four months' absence of his daughter is answered with four days' feasting; neither was there so much joy in the former wedding-feast, as in this ; because then he delivered his daughter entire, now desperate ; then he found a son ; but now that son hath found his lost daughter, and he found both. The recovery of any good is far more pleasant than the continuance. Little do we know what evil is towards us. Now did this old man and this re stored couple, promise themselves all joy and contentment after this unkind storm, and said in themselves, Now we begin to live. And now this feast, which was meant Cont. I.] THE LEVITE'S CONCUBINE. 141 for their new nuptials, proves her funeral. Even when we let ourselves loosest to our pleasures, the hand of God, though invi sibly, is writing bitter things against us. Since we are not worthy to know, it is wisdom to suspect the worst, while it is least seen. Sometimes it falls out, that nothing is more injurious than courtesy. If this old man had thrust his son and daughter early out of doors, they had avoided this mis chief; now his loving importunity detains them to their hurt, and his own repentance. Such contentment doth sincere affection find in the presence of those we love, that death itself hath no other name but de parting. The greatest comfort of our life is the fruition of friendship, the dissolution whereof is the greatest pain of death. As all earthly pleasures, so this of love, is dis tasted with the necessity of leaving. How worthy is that only love to take up our hearts, which is not open to any danger of interruption, which shall outlive the date even of faith and hope, and is as eternal as that God, and those blessed spirits whom we love ! If we hang never so importunately upon one another's sleeves, and shed floods of tears to stop their way, yet we must be gone hence: no occasion, no force, shall then remove us from our father's house. The Levite is stayed beyond his time by importunity, the motions whereof are boundless and infinite : one day draws on another ; neither is there any reason of this day's stay, which may not serve still for to-morrow. His resolution at last breaks through all those kind hindrances ; rather will he venture a benighting, than an un necessary delay. It is a good hearing, that the Levite makes haste home. An honest man's heart is where his calling is ; such a one, when he is abroad, is like a fish in the air, whereinto if it leap for recreation or necessity, yet it soon returns to its own element. This charge, by how much more sacred it is, so much more attendance it expecteth : even a day breaks square with the conscionable. The sun is ready to lodge before them : his servant advises him to shorten his jour ney, holding it more fit to trust an early inn of the Jebusites, than to the mercy of the night. And if that counsel had been followed, perhaps they, which found Jebu sites in Israel, might have found Israelites in Jebus. No wise man can hold good counsel disparaged by the meanness ofthe author: if we be glad to receive any trea sure from our servant, why not precious admonitions ? It was the zeal of this Levite that shut him out of Jebus : " We will not lodge in the city of strangers." The Jebusites were strangers in religion, not strangers enough in their habitation. The Levite will not receive common courtesy from those which were aliens from God, though home-born in the heart of Israel. It is lawful enough, in terms of civility, to deal with infidels : the earth is the Lord's and we may enjoy it in the right of the owner, while we pro test against the wrong of the usurper; yet the less communion with God's1 enemies, the more safety. If there were another air to breathe in from theirs, another earth to tread upon, they should have their own. Those that affect a familiar entireness with Jebusites, in conversation, in leagues of amity, in matrimonial contracts, bewray either too much boldness, or too little con science. He hath no blood of an Israelite, that delights to lodge in Jebus. It was the fault of Israel, that an heathenish town stood yet in the navel of the tribes, and that Jebus was no sooner turned to Jeru salem : their lenity and neglect were guilty of this neighbourhood, that now no man can pass from Bethlehem-Judah to Mount Ephraim, but by the city of the Jebusites. Seasonable justice might prevent a thou sand evils, which afterwards know no re medy but patience. The way was not long betwixt Jebus and Gibeah ; for the sun was stooping when the Levite was over against the first, and is but now declined When he comes to the other. How his heart was lightened, when he entered into an Israelitish city ! and can think of nothing but hospitality, rest, se curity. There is no perfume so sweet to a traveller as his own smoke. Both ex pectation and fear do commonly disappoint us : for seldom ever do we enjoy the good we look for, or smart with a feared evil. The poor Levite could have found but such entertainment with the Jebusites. Whether are the posterity of Benjamin de generated, that their Gibeah should be no less wicked than populous! The first sign of a settled godlessness, is that a Levite is suffered to lie without doors. If God had been in any of their houses, his servant had not been excluded. Where no re spect is given to God's messengers, there can be no religion. Gibeah was a second Sodom ; even there also is another Lot ; which is therefore so much more hospitable to strangers, because himself was a stranger. The host, as well as the Levite, is of Mount Ephraim. Each 142 THE LEVITE'S CONCUBINE. [Book XI. man knows best to commiserate that evil in others, which himself hath passed through. All that profess the name of Christ are countrymen, and yet strangers here below. How cheerfully should we entertain each other, when we meet in the Gibeah of this inhospitable world! This good old man of Gibeah came home late from his work in the fields ; the sun was set ere he gave over: and now, seeing this man a stranger, an Israelite, a Levite, an Ephraimite, and that in his way to the house of God, to take up his lodging in the street, he proffers him the kindness of his house-room. Industrious spirits are the fittest receptacles of all good motions ; whereas those which give themselves to idle and loose courses, do not care so much as for themselves. I hear of but one man at his work in all Gibeath ; the rest were quaffing and revelling. That one man ends his work with a charitable entertain ment ; the other end their play in a brutish beastliness, and violence. These villains had learned both the actions and the lan guage of the Sodomites : one unclean devil was the prompter to both ; and this honest Ephraimite had learned of righteous Lot, both to entreat and to proffer. As a per plexed mariner, that in a storm must cast away something, although precious ; so this good host rather will prostitute his daughter, a virgin, together with the con cubine, than this prodigious villany should be offered to a man, much more to a man of God. The detestation of a fouler sin drew him to overreach in the motion of a lesser ; which, if it had been accepted, how could he have escaped the partnership of their uncleanness, and the guilt of his daugh ter's ravishment ! No man can wash his hands of that sin to which his will hath yielded. Bodily violence may be inoffen sive in the patient ; voluntary inclination to evil, though out of fear, can never be excusable : yet behold, this wickedness is too little to satisfy these monsters ! Who would have looked for so extreme abomination from the loins of Jacob, the womb of Rachel, the sons of Benjamin ? Could the very Jebusites, their neighbours, be ever accused of such unnatural outrage? I am ashamed to say it, even the worst pagans were saints to Israel. What avails it, that they have the ark of God in Shiloh, while they have Sodom in their streets? that the law of God is in their fringes, while the devil is in their hearts ? Nothing but hell itself can yield a worse creature than a depraved Israelite ; the very means of his reformation are the fuel of his wick edness. Yet Lot sped so much better in Sodom, than this Ephraimite did in Gibeah, by how much more holy guests he entertained: there the guests were angels, here a sinful man ; there the guests saved the host, here the host could not save the guest from brutish violence; those Sodomites were stricken with outward blindness, and de, feated ; these Benjamites are only blinded with lust, and prevail. The Levite comes forth ; perhaps his coat saved his person from this villany ; who now thinks himself well, that he may have leave to redeem his own dishonour with his concubine's. If he had not loved her dearly, he had never sought her so far, after so foul a sin ; yet now his hate of that unnatural wicked ness overcame his love to her ; she is ex posed to the furious lust of ruffians, and, which he misdoubteth, abused to death. O the just and even course which the Almighty Judge of the world holds in all his retributions ! This woman had shamed the bed of a Levite by her former wanton ness ; she had thus far gone smoothly away with her sin; her father harboured her; her husband forgave her ; her own heart found no cause to complain, because she smarted not : now, when the world had forgotten her offence, God calls her to reckoning, and punishes her with her own sin. She had voluntarily exposed herself to lust, now is exposed forcibly. Adul tery was her sin ; adultery was her death. What smiles soever wickedness casts upon the heart, while it solicits, it will owe us a displeasure, and prove itself a faithful debitor. The Levite looked to find her humbled with this violence, not murdered ; and now indignation moves him to add horror to the fact. Had not his heart been raised up with an excess of desire to make the crime as odious as it was sinful, his action could not be excused. Those hands, that might not touch a carcase, now carve the corpse of his own dead wife into morsels, and send these tokens to all the tribes of Israel ; that when they should see these gobbets of the body murdered, the more they might detest the murderers. Himself puts on cruelty to the dead, that he might draw them to a just revenge of her death. Actions notoriously villanous, may justly countenance an extraordinary means of prosecution. Every Israelite hath a part in a Levite's wrong ; no tribe hath not his share in the carcase and the revenge. Cont. IL] THE DESOLATION OF BENJAMIN. 143 CONTEMPLATION II. — the desolation of benjamin. These morsels could not choose but cut the hearts of Israel with horror and com passion ; horror of the act, and compassion of tne sufferer ; and now their zeal draws them together, either for satisfaction or re venge. Who would not have looked that the hands of Benjamin should have been first upon Gibeah ; and that they should have readily sent the heads ofthe offenders, for a second service, after the gobbets of the concubine ! But now, instead of pu nishing the sin, they patronised the actors ; and will rather die in resisting justice, than live and prosper in furthering it ! Surely, Israel had one tribe too many. All Benjamin is turned into Gibeah ; the sons not of Benjamin, but of Belial. The abetting of evil is worse than the commis sion ; this may be upon infirmity, but that must be upon resolution. Easy punish ment is too much favour to sin ; connivance is much worse : but the defence of it, and that unto blood, is intolerable. Had not these men been both wicked and quarrel- lous, they had not drawn their swords in so foul a cause. Peaceable dispositions are hardly drawn to fight for innocence ; yet these Benjamites (as if they were in love with villany, and out of charity with God) will be the wilful champions of lewd ness. How can Gibeah repent them of that wickedness which all Benjamin will make good, in spite of their consciences ? Even where sin is suppressed, it will rise ; but where it is encouraged, it insults and tyrannizes. i It was more just that Israel should rise against Benjamin, than that Benjamin should rise for Gibeah ; by how much it is better to punish offenders, than to shel ter the offenders from punishment : and yet the wickedness of Benjamin sped better for the time, than the honesty of Israel. Twice was the better part foiled by the less and worse : the good cause was sent back with shame ; the evil returned with victory and triumph. O God, their hand was for thee in the fight, and thy hand was with them in their fall! They had not fought for thee, but by thee ; neither could they have miscarried in the fight, if thou hadst not fought against them: thou art just and holy in both. The cause was thine ; the sin in managing of it was their own. They fought in a holy quarrel, but with confidence in themselves ; for, as pre suming of victory, they ask of God, not. what should be their success, but who should be their captain. Number and in nocence made them too secure : it was just, therefore, with God to let them feel, that even good zeal cannot bear out pre sumption ; and that victory lies not in the cause, but in the God that owns it. Who cannot imagine how much the Benjamites insulted in their double field and day, and now began to think, God was on their side! Those swords, which had been taught the way into forty thousand bodies of their brethren, cannot fear a new encounter. Wicked men cannot see their prosperity a piece of their curse ; neither can examine their actions, but the events. Soon after they shall find what it was to add blood unto fllthiness, and that the victory of an evil cause is the way to ruin and confusion. I should have feared lest this double discomfiture should have made Israel either distrustful, or weary of a good cause : but still I find them no less courageous, with more humility. Now they fast and weep, and sacrifice. These weapons had been victorious in their first assault. Benjamin had never been in danger of pride for over coming, if this humiliation of Israel had prevented the fight. It is seldom seen, but that which we do with fear prospereth ; whereas confidence in undertaking, lays even good endeavours in the dust. Wickedness could never brag of any long prosperity, nor complain of the lack of payment : still God is even with it at last. Now he pays the Benjamites both that death which they had lent to the Israelites, and that wherein they stood indebted to their brotherhood of Gibeah: and now, that both are met in death, there is as much difference betwixt those Israelites, and these Benjamites, as betwixt martyrs and male factors. To die in a sin is a fearful revenge of giving patronage to sin. The sword con sumes their bodies, another fire their cities, whatsoever became of their souls. Now might Rachel have justly wept for her children, because they were not ; for behold, the men, women, and children of her wicked tribe, are cut off; only some few scattered remainders ran away from this vengeance, and lurked in caves, and rocks, both for fear and shame. There was no difference but life betwixt their brethren and them ; the earth covered them both ; yet unto them doth the revenge of Israel stretch itself, and vows to destroy, if not their persons, yet their succession, as hold ing them unworthy to receive comfort by that sex to which they had been so cruel, 144 THE DESOLATION OF BENJAMIN. [Book XI. both in act and maintenance. If the 1st raelites had not held marriage and issue a very great blessing, they had not thus re venged themselves of Benjamin : now they accounted the withholding of their wives a punishment second to death. The hope of life in our posterity, is the next content ment to an enjoying of life in ourselves. They have sworn, and now, upon cold blood, repent them. If the oath were not just, why would they take it ? and if it were just, why did they recant it ? If the act were justifiable, what needed these tears? Even a just oath may be rashly taken. Not only injustice, but temerity of swearing, ends in lamentation. In our very civil actions, it is a weakness to do that which we would after reverse ; but in our affairs with God, to check ourselves too late, and to steep our oaths in tears, is a dangerous folly. He doth not command us to take voluntary oaths ; he commands us to keep them. If we bind ourselves to in convenience, we may justly complain of our own fetters. Oaths do not only require justice, but judgment ; wise deliberation, no less than equity. Not conscience of their fact, but com miseration of their brethren, led them to this public repentance. " O God ! why is this come to pass, that this day one tribe of Israel shall want?" Even the justest revenge of men is capable of pity. Insulta tion, in the rigour of justice, argues cruelty ; charitable minds are grieved to see that done, which they would not wish undone : the smart of the offender doth not please them, which yet are thoroughly displeased with the sin, and have given their hands to punish it. God himself takes no pleasure in the death of a sinner, yet loves the punishment of sin : as a good parent whips his child, yet weeps himself. There is a measure in victory and revenge, if never so just, which to exceed, loses mercy in the suit of justice. If there were no fault in their severity, it needed no excuse : and if there were a fault, it will admit of no excuse : yet, as if they meant to shift off the sin, they expos tulate with God: "O Lord God of Israel, why is this come to pass this day ?" God gave them no command of this rigour : yea, he twice crossed them in the execution ; and now, in that which they entreated of God with tears, they challenge him. It is a dangerous injustice to lay the burden of our sins upon him, which tempteth no man, nor can be tempted with evil ; while we so remove our sin, we double it. v A man that knew not the power of an oath, would wonder at this contrariety in the affections of Israel : they are sorry for the slaughter of Benjamin ; and yet they slay those that did not help them in the slaughter. Their oath calls them to more blood: the excess of their revenge upon Benjamin may not excuse the men of Gilead. If ever oath might look for a dis pensation, this might plead it : now they dare not but kill the men of Jabesh-Gilead, lest they should have left upon themselves a greater sin of sparing than punishing. Jabesh-Gilead came not up to aid Israel, therefore all the inhabitants must die. To exempt ourselves, whether out of singu larity or stubbornness, from the common actions of the church, when we are law fully called to them, is an offence worthy of judgment. In the main quarrels of the church, neutrals are punished. This exe-. cution shall make amends for the former ; of the spoil of Jabesh-Gilead shall the Benjamites be stored with wives. That no man may think these men slain for their daughters, they plainly die for their sin ; and these Gileadites might not have lived! without the perjury of Israel; and now, since they must die, it is good to make benefit of necessity. I inquire not into the rigour of the oath : (if their solemn vow did not bind them to kill all of both sexes in Benjamin, why did they not spare their virgins ? and if it did so bind them, why did they spare the virgins of Gilead ? Favours must be enlarged in all these religious re strictions. Where breath may be taken in them, it is not fit nor safe they should be straitened. Four hundred virgins of Gilead have lost parents, and brethren, and kindred, and now find husbands in lieu of them. An enforced marriage was but a miserable comfort for such a loss : like wards, or captives, they are taken, and choose not, These suffice not ; their friendly adversaries consult for more upon worse conditions. Into what troublesome and dangerous straits do men thrust themselves, by either unjust or inconsiderate vows ! In the midst of all this common lawless ness of Israel, here was conscience made on both sides of matching with infidels. The Israelites can rather be content their daughters should be stolen, by their own, than that the daughters of aliens should be given them. These men, which had not grace enough to detest and punish the beastliness of their Gileadites, yet are not so graceless as to choose them wives of the heathen. All but atheists, howsoever they let themselves loose, yet in some. Cont. III.] NAOMI AND RUTH. 145 things find themselves restrained, and show to others that they have a conscience. If there were not much danger and much sin in this unequal yoke, they would never have persuaded to so heavy an inconve nience. Disparity of religion, in matrimo nial contracts, hath so many mischiefs, that it is worthy to be redeemed with much prejudice. They which might not give their own daughters to Benjamin, yet give others, while they give leave to steal them. Stolen marriages are both unnatural and full of hazard ; for love, whereof marriage is the knot, cannot be forced ; this was rather rape, than wedlock. What unlikeness, per haps contrariety of disposition, what averse- ness of affection, may there be, in not only a sudden, but a forcible meeting! ff these Benjamites had not taken liberty of giving themselves ease by divorcement, they would often have found leisure to rue this stolen booty. This act may not be drawn to example; and yet here was a kind of in definite consent. Both deliberation and good liking, are little enough for a during estate, and that which is once done for ever. These virgins come up to the feast of the Lord ; and now, out of the midst of their dances, are carried to a double capti vity. How many virgins have lost them selves in dances? And yet this sport was not immodest. These virgins danced by themselves, without the company of those which might move towards unchastity; for if any men had been with them, they had found so many rescuers as they had assaul ters ; now, the exposing of their weak sex to this injury proves their innocence. Our usual dances are guilty of more sin. Wan ton gestures, and unchaste touches, looks, motions, draw the heart to folly. The ambushes of evil spirits carry away many a soul from dances, to a fearful desolation. It is supposed, that the parents, thus robbed of their daughters, will take it heavily. There cannot be a greater cross than the miscarriage of children : they are not only the living goods, but pieces of their parents ; that they should, therefore, be torn from them by violence, is no less injury than the dismembering of their own bodies. contemplation in naomi and ruth. Betwixt the reign of the judges, Israel was plagued with tyranny, and, while some of them reigned, with famine. Seldom did , that rebellious people want somewhat to humble them. One rod is not enough for a stubborn child. The famine must needs be great, that makes the inhabitants to run their country. The name of home is so sweet, that we cannot leave it for a trifle. Behold, that land which had wont to flow with milk and honey, now abounds with want and penury ; and Bethlehem, instead of an house of bread, is an house of famine : " A fruitful land doth God make barren, for the wickedness of them that dwell there in." The earth bears not for itself, but for us ; God is not angry with it, but with men. For our sakes it was first cursed to thorns and thistles; after that, to mois ture ; and since that, not seldom to drought, and by all these to barrenness. We may not look always for plenty. It is a wonder, while there is such superfluity of wicked ness, that our earth is no more sparing of her fruits. The whole earth is the Lord's, and in him ours. It is lawful for the owners to change their houses at pleasure. Why should we not make free use of any part of our own possessions ? Elimelech and his family remove from Bethlehem-Judah unto Moab. Nothing but necessity can dispense with a local relinquishing of God's church ; not pleasure, nor profit, nor curio sity. Those which are famished out, God calls, yea, drives. from thence. The Crea* tor and Possessor of the earth hath not confined any man to his necessary destruc tion. It was lawful for Elimelech to make use of pagans and idolaters, for the supply of all needful helps. There cannot be a bet ter employment of Moabites, than to be the treasurers and purveyors of God's children. Wherefore serve they, but to gather for the true owners ? It is too much niceness in them, which forbear the benefit they might make of the faculties of profane or heretical persons ; they consider not that they have more right to the good such men can do, than they that do it, and challenge that good for their own. But I cannot see how it could be law ful for his sons to match with the daughters of Moab. Had these men heard how far, and under how solemn an oath, their father Abraham sent for a wife of his own tribe, for his son Isaac? Had they heard the earnest charge of holy Isaac to the son he blessed, " Thou shalt not take a wife of the daughters of Canaan ?" Had they for gotten the plagues of Israel, for but a short conversation with the Moabitish women? ff they plead remoteness from their own K 146 NAOMI AND RUTH. [Book XL people, did they not remember how far Jacob walked to Padan- Aram ? Was it far ther from Moab to Bethlehem, than from Bethlehem to Moab ? And if the care of themselves led them from Bethlehem to Moab, should not their care of obedience to God have as well carried them back from Moab to Bethlehem ? Yet if their wives would have left their idolatry with their maidenhead, the match had been more safe ; but now, even at the last farewell, Naomi can say of Orpah, that she is re turned to her gods. These men have sin ned in their choice, and it speeds with them accordingly. Where did ever one of these unequal matches prosper ? The two sons of Elimelech are swept away childless in the prime of their age, and, in stead of their seed, they leave their car cases in Moab, their wives widows, their mother childless and helpless amongst in- fidels, in that age which most needed com fort. How miserable do we find poor Naomi, which is left destitute of her coun try, her husband, her children, her friends, and turned loose and solitary to the mercy of the world ! Yet even out of these hope less ruins will God raise comfort to his ser vant. The first good news is, that God hath visited his people with bread ; now, therefore, since her husband and sons were unrecoverable, she will try to recover her country and kindred. If we can have the same conditions in Judah that we have in Moab, we are no Israelites if we return not. While her husband and sons lived, I hear no motion of retiring home ; now these her earthly stays are removed, she thinks presently of removing to her country. Neither can we so heartily think of our home above, while we are furnished with these worldly contentments: when God strips us of them, straightways our mind is homeward. She that came from Bethlehem under the protection of a husband, attended with her sons, stored with substance, resolves now to measure all that way alone. Her adversity had stripped her of all but a good heart : that remains with her, and bears up her head, in the deepest of her extremity. True Christian fortitude wades through all evils ; and, though we be up to the chin, yet keeps firm footing against the stream : where this is, the sex is not discerned; neither is the quantity of the evil read in the face. How well doth this courage be come Israelites, when we are left comfort less in the midst of the Moab of this world, to resolve the contempt of all dangers in the way to our home ! as, contrarily, nothing doth more misbeseem a Christian, than that his spirits should flag with his estate, and that any difficulty should make him despair of attaining his best ends. Goodness is of a winning quality, where soever it is ; and, even amongst infidels, will make itself friends. The good dispo sition of Naomi carries away the hearts of her daughters-in-law with her, so as they are ready to forsake their kindred, their country, yea, their own mother, for a stranger, whose affinity died with her sons. Those men are worse than infidels, and next to devils, that hate the virtues of God's saints, and could love their persons well, if they were not conscionable. How earnestly do these two daughters of Moab plead for their continuance with Naomi ; and how hardly is either of them dissuaded from partaking of the misery of her society ! There are good natures even among infidels, and such as, for moral dis position and civil respects, cannot be ex ceeded by the best professors. Who can suffer his heart to rest in those qualities, which are common to them that are with out God ! Naomi could not be so insensible of her own good, as not to know how much com fort she might reap to the solitariness, both of her voyage and her widowhood, by the society of these two younger widows, whose affections she had so well tried. Even every partnership is a mitigation of evils : yet, so earnestly doth she dissuade them from accompanying her, as that she could not have said more, if she had thought their presence irksome and burdensome. Good dispositions love not to pleasure themselves with the disadvantage of others, and had rather be miserable alone, than to draw in partners to their sorrow ; for the sight of another's calamity doth rather double their own, and, if themselves were free, would affect them with compassion ; as, con trarily, ill minds care not how many com panions they have in misery, nor how few consorts in good : if themselves miscarry, they would be content all the world were enwrapped with them in the same distress, I marvel not that Orpah is by this sea sonable importunity persuaded to return from a mother-in-law, to a mother in na. ture ; from a toilsome journey to rest ; from strangers to her kindred ; from a hope less condition, to likelihoods of content ment, A little entreaty will serve to move nature to be good unto itself. Every one is rather a Naomi to his own soul, to per suade it to stay still, and enjoy the delights of Moab, rather than to hazard our enter- Cont. III.] NAOMI AND RUTH. 147 tainment in Bethlehem. Will religion allow me this wild fiberty of my actions, this loose mirth, these carnal pleasures ? Can I be a Christian, and not live sullenly? None but a. regenerate heart can choose rather to suffer adversity with God's peo ple, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. The one sister takes an unwilling fare well, and moistens her last kisses with many tears : the other cannot be driven back, but repels one entreaty with another : " En treat me not to leave thee ; for whither thou goest I will go, where thou dwellest I will dwell, thy people shall be my people, thy God my God, where thou diest I will die, and there will I be buried." Ruth saw so much, upon ten years' trial, in Naomi, as was more worth than all Moab; and, in comparison whereof, all worldly respects deserved nothing but contempt. The next degree unto godliness is the love of good ness : he is in a fair way to grace, that can value it. If she had not been already a proselyte, she could not have set this price upon Naomi's virtue. Love cannot be se parated from a desire of fruition : in vain had Ruth protested her affection to Naomi, if she could have turned her out to her journey alone. Love to the saints doth not more argue our interest in God, than society argues the truth of our love. As some tight vessel that holds against wind and water, so did Ruth against all the powers of a mother's persuasions ; the im possibility of the comfort of marriage, in following her (which drew back her sister- in-law), cannot move her. She hears her mother, like a modest matron (contrary to the fashion of these times), say, " I am too old to have a husband ;" and yet she thinks not, on the contrary, I am too young to want a husband. It should seem, the Mo abites had learned this fashion of Israel, to expect the brother's raising of seed to the deceased : the widowhood and age of Naomi cuts off that hope ; neither could Ruth then dream of a Boaz that might ad vance her : it is no love that cannot make us willing to be miserable for those we af fect. The hollowest heart can be content to follow one that prospereth. Adversity is the only furnace of friendship. If love will not abide both fire and anvil, it is but counterfeit ; so, in our love to God, we do but crack and vaunt in vain, if we cannot be willing to suffer for him. But if any motive might hope to speed, that which was drawn from example was most likely : " Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people, and to her gods ; return thou after her." This one artless persuasion hath prevailed more with the world, than all the pleas of reason. How many millions miscarry upon this ground : Thus did my forefathers ; thus do the most ; I am neither the first nor the last ; " Do any ofthe rulers ?" We straight think that either safe or pardonable, for which we can plead a precedent. This good woman hath more warrant for her resolu tion than another's practice. The mind can never be steady, while it stands upon others' feet, and till it be settled upon such grounds of assurance, that it will rather' lead than follow ; and can say with Joshua, whatsoever become of the world, " I ancj my house will serve the Lord." If Naomi had not been a person of emi nent note, no knowledge had been taken at Bethlehem of her return. Poverty is ever obscure ; and those that have little may go and come without noise, ff the streets of Bethlehem had not before used to say, " There goes Naomi," they had not now asked, " Is not this Naomi ?" She that had lost all things but her name, is willing to part with that also ; " Call me not Naomi, but call me Marah." Her humility cares little for a glorious name in a dejected estate. Many a one would have set faces upon their want, and, in the bitterness of their condition, have affected the name of beauty. In all forms of good, there are more that care to seem, than to be : Naomi hates this hypocrisy, and, since God hath humbled her, desires not to be respected of men. Those who are truly brought down, make it not dainty, that the world should think them so, but are ready to be the first proclaimers of their own vileness. Naomi went full out of Bethlehem to prevent want, and now she brings that want home with her, which she desired to avoid. Our blindness ofttimes carries us into the perils we seek to eschew. God finds it best, many times, to cross the likely projects of his dearest children, and to multiply those afflictions which they feared single. Ten years have turned Naomi into Ma rah. What assurance is there of these earthly things whereof one hour may strip us ? What man can say of the years to come, Thus I will be ? How justly do we contemn this uncertainty, and look up to those riches that cannot but endure when heaven and earth are dissolved I k 2 148 BOAZ AND RUTH. [Book XI. CONTEMPLATION IV. — BOAZ and ruth. While Elimelech shifted to Moab to avoid the famine, Boaz abode still at Beth lehem, and continued rich and powerful. He stayed at home, and found that which Elimelech went to seek and missed. The judgment of famine doth not lightly extend itself to all. Pestilence and the sword spare none ; but dearth commonly plagueth the meaner sort, and baulketh the mighty. When Boaz's storehouse was empty, his fields were full, and maintained the name of Bethlehem. I do not hear Ruth stand upon the terms of her better education, or Wealthy parentage; but now that God hath Called her to want, she scorns not to lay her hand unto all homely services, and thinks it no disparagement to find her bread in other men's fields. There is no harder lesson to a generous mind, nor that more beseems it, than either to bear want or to prevent it. Base spirits give themselves over to idleness and misery, and, because they are crossed, will sullenly perish. That good woman hath not been for nothing in the school of patience ; she hath learned obedience to a poor step mother ; she was now a widow past reach of any danger of correction ; besides that penury might seem to dispense with awe. Even children do easily learn to contemn the poverty of their own parents ; yet hath she inured herself to obedience, that she will not so much as go forth into the field to glean without the leave of her mother- in-law, and is no less obsequious to Ma rah, than she was to Naomi. What shall we say to those children that, in the main actions of their life, forget they have natu ral parents ? It is a shame to see, that, in mean families, want of substance causeth want of duty; and that children should think themselves privileged for unreverence, because the parent is poor. Little do we know, when we go forth in the morning, what God means to do with us ere night ! There is a providence that attends on us in all our ways, and guides us insensibly to his own ends : that divine hand leads Ruth blindfold to the field of Boaz. That she meets with his reapers, and falls upon his land amongst all the fields of Bethlehem, it was no praise to her election, but the gracious disposition of Him in whom we move. His thoughts are above ours, and do so order our actions, as we, if we had known, should have wished. No sooner is she come into the field, but the reapers are friendly to her. No sooner is Boaz come into his field, but he invites her to more bounty than she could have desired.. Now God begins to repay into her bosom her love and duty to her mother-in-law. Reverence and loving respects to parents never yet went away unrecompensed. God will surely raise up friends among strangers to those that have been officious at home. It was worth Ruth's journey from Moab, to meet with such a man as Boaz, whom we find thrifty, religious, charitable: though he were rich, yet he was not careless ; he comes into the field to oversee his reapers. Even the best estate requires careful ma naging of the owner : he wanted no officers to take charge of his husbandry, yet he had rather be his own witness. After all the trust of others, the master's eye feeds the horse. The Master of the great household of the world gives us an example of this care, whose eye is in every corner of his large possession. Not civility only, but religion, binds us to good husbandry. We are all stewards ; and what account can we give to our Master, if we never look after our estate? I doubt whether Boaz had been so rich, if he had not been so frugal ; yet was he not more thrifty than religious. He comes not to his reapers but with a bless ing in his mouth — "The Lord be with you ;" as one that knew, if he were with them, and not the Lord, his presence could avail nothing. All the business of the family speeds the better for the master's benediction. Those affairs are likely to succeed, that take their beginning at God. Charity was well matched with his reli gion, without which, good works are but hypocrisy. No sooner doth he hear the name of the Moabitess, but he seconds the kindness of his reapers, and still he rises in his favours. First, she may glean in his field ; then she may drink of his vessels ; then she shall take her meal with his reapers, and part of it from his own hand ; lastly, his workmen must let fall sheaves for her gathering. A small thing helps the needy. A handful of gleanings, a lapful of parched corn, a draught of the servants' bottles, a loose sheaf, was such a favour to Ruth, as she thought was above all recompense. Tfiis was -not seen in the estate of Boaz, which yet makes her for the time happy. If we may refresh the soul of the poor with the very offals of our estate, and not hurt ourselves, woe be to us if we do it not! Our barns shall be as full of curses as of corn, if we grudge the scattered ears of our field to the hands of the needy. How thankfully doth Ruth take these OONT. IV.] BOAZ AND RUTH. 149 small favours- from Boaz I Perhaps some rich jewel in Moab would not have been so welcome. Even this was a presage of her better estate. Those which shall receive great blessings, are ever thankful for little ; and if poor souls be so thankful to us for but an handful, or a sheaf, how should we be affected to our God, for whole fields full, for full barns, full garners ! Doubtless Boaz, having taken notice of the good nature, dutiful carriage, and the near affinity of Ruth, could not but pur pose some greater beneficence, and higher respects to her j yet now onwards he fits his kindness to her condition, and gives her that, which to her meanness seemed much, though he thought it little. Thus doth the bounty of our God deal with us. It is not for want of love that he gives us no greater measure of grace, but for want of our fitness and capacity. He hath re served greater preferments for us when it shall be seasonable for us to receive them. Ruth returns home wealthy with her ephah of barley, and thankfully magnifies the liberality of Boaz, her new benefactor. Naomi repays his beneficence with her blessing: "Blessed be he of the Lord!" If the rich can exchange their alms with the poor for blessings, they have no cause to complain of an ill bargain. Our gifts cannot be worth their faithful prayers : therefore it is better to give than to re ceive ; because he that receives, hath but a worthless alms ; he that gives, receives an invaluable blessing. I cannot but admire the modesty and silence of these two women : Naomi had not so much as talked of her kindred in Bethlehem, nor till now had she told Ruth that she had a wealthy kinsman ; neither had Ruth inquired of her husband's great alliance ; but both sat down meekly with their own wants, and cared not to know any thing else, save that themselves were poor. Humility is ever the way to honour. It is a discourtesy, where we are be holden, to alter our dependency, like as men of trade take it ill, if customers, which are in their books, go for their wares to another shop. Wisely doth Naomi advise Ruth not to be seen in any other field, while the harvest lasted. The very taking of their favours, is a contentment to those that have already well deserved ; and it is quarrel enough that their courtesy is not received. How shall the God of heaven take it, that while he gives and proffers large, we run to the world, that can afford us nothing but vanity and vexation ? Those that can least act, are ofttimes the best to advise. Good old Naomi sits still at home, and by her counsel pays Rutli all the love she owes her. The face of that action, to which she directs her, is the worst piece of it ; the heart was sound. Perhaps the assurance, which long trial had given her, of the good government and firm chastity of her daughter-in-law, to gether with her persuasion of the religious gravity of Boaz, made her think that design safe, which to others had been perilous, if not desperate. But besides that, holding Boaz next of blood to Elimelech, she made account of him as the lawful husband of Ruth; so as there wanted nothing but a challenge, and consummation. Nothing was abated but some outward solemnities, which, though expedient for the satisfac tion of others, yet were not essential to marriage ; and if there were not these co lours for a project so suspicious, it would not follow that the action was warrantable, because Naomi's. Why should her exam ple be more safe in this, than in matching her sons with infidels, than in sending back Orpah to her father's gods ? ff every act of an holy person should be our rule, we should have crooked lives. Every action that is reported, is not straightways allowed. Our courses were very uncertain, if God had not given us rules, whereby we may examine the examples of the best saints, and as well censure as follow them. Let them that stumble at the boldness of Ruth, imitate the continence of Boaz. These times were not delicate. This man, though great in Bethlehem, lays him down, to rest upon a pallet, in the floor of his. barn : when he awakes at midnight, no. marvel if he were amazed to find himself accompanied ; yet, though his heart were cheered with wine, the place solitary, the night silent, the person comely, the invi tation plausible, could he not be drawn to a rash act of lust ; his appetite could not get the victory of reason, though it had wine and opportunity to help it. Herein Boaz shewed himself a great master of his affections, that he was able to resist a fit temptation. It is no thank to many, that they are free of some evils ; perhaps they wanted not will, but convenience. But if a man, when he is fitted with all helps to his sin, can repel the pleasure of sin out. of conscience, this is true fortitude. Instead of touching her as a woman, he blessed her as a father, encourageth her as a friend, promiseth her as a kinsman, re wards her as a patron, and sends her away laden with hopes and gifts ; no less chastej more happy, than she came. 0 admirable 150 BOAZ AND RUTH. [Book XL temperance, worthy the progenitor of Him, in whose lips and heart was no guile ! If Boaz had been the hext kinsman, the marriage had needed no protraction, but no w that his conscience told him that Ruth was the right of another, it had not been more sensuality than injustice to have touched his kinswoman. It was not any bodily impo tency, but honesty and conscience, that re strained Boaz; for the very next night she conceived by him : that good man wished his marriage-bed holy, and durst not lie down in the doubt of a sin. Many a man is honest out of necessity, and affects the praise of that which he could pot avoid : but that man's mind is still an adulterer, in the forced continence of his body. No action can give us true comfort, but that which we do out of the grounds of obedience. Those which are fearful of sinning, are careful not to be thought to sin : Boaz, though he knew himself to be clear, would not have occasion of suspicion given to others : " Let no man know that a woman came into the floor." A good heart is no less afraid of a scandal, than of a sin ; whereas those that are resolved not to make any scruple Of sin, despise others' construc tions, not caring whom they offend, so that they may please themselves. That Naomi might see her daughter-in-law was not sent back in dislike, she comes home laden with corn. Ruth had gleaned more this night, than in half the harvest. The care of Boaz was, that she should not return to her mother empty. Love, wheresoever it is, cannot be niggardly. We measure the love of God by his gifts : how shall he abide to send us away empty from those treasures of goodness ! Boaz is restless in the prosecution of this suit, and hies him from his threshing-floor to the gate, and there convenes the nearer kinsman before the elders ofthe city. What was it that made Boaz so ready to enterT tain, so forward to urge this match ? Wealth she had none, not so much as bread, but what she gleaned out of the field ; friends she had none, and those she had elsewhere Moabites ; beauty she could not have much, after that scorching in her travel, in her gleanings. Himself tells her what drew his heart to her : " All the city of my people doth know that thou art a virtuous wo man." Virtue, in whomsoever it is found, is a great dowry, and, where it meets with an heart that knows how to value it, is ac counted greater riches than all that is hid in the bowels of the earth. The corn-heap of Boaz was but chaff to this, and his money dross. As a man that had learned to square all his actions to the law of God, Boaz pro ceeds legally with his rival ; and tells him of a parcel of Elimelech's Iand> which, it is like, upon his removal to Moab, he had alienated ; which he, as the next kinsman, might have power to redeem ; yet so, as he must purchase the wife ofthe deceased with the land. Every kinsman is not a Boaz : the man could listen to the land, if it had been free from the clog of a neces sary marriage ; but now he will rather leave the land than take the wife, lest, whilst he should preserve Elimelech's inheritance, he should destroy his own ; for the next seed, which he should have by Ruth, should not be his heir, but his deceased kinsman's. How knew he whether God might not, by that wife, send heirs enough for both their estates? Rather had he, therefore, incur a manifest injustice, than hazard the dahger of his inheritance. The law of God bound him to raise up seed to the next in blood ; the care of his inheri tance draws him to a neglect of his duty, though with infamy and reproach; and now he had rather his face should be spit upon, and his name should be called " The house of him whose shoe was pulled off," than to reserve the honour of him that did his brother right, to his own prejudice. How many are there that do so over-love their issue, as that they regard neither sin nor shame in advancing it, and that will rather endanger their soul, than lose their name ! It is a woful inheritance that makes men heirs of the vengeance of God. Boaz is glad to take the advantage of his refusal; and holds that shoe (which was the sign of his tenure) more worth than all the lands of Elimelech. And whereas other wives purchase their hus bands with a large dowry, this man pur- chaseth his wife at a dear rate, and thinks his bargain happy. All the substance of the earth is not worth a virtuous and prudent wife ; which Boaz doth now so re joice in, as if he this day only began to be wealthy. Now is Ruth taken into the house of Boaz ; she, that before had said she was not like one of his maidens, is now become their mistress. This day she hath gleaned all the fields and barns of a rich husband ; and that there might be no want in her happiness, by a gracious husband she hath gained a happy seed, and hath the honour, above all the dames of Israel, to be the great-grandmother of a king, of David, of the Messiah. Now is Marah turned back again to Cont. V.] HANNAH AND PENINNAH. 151 Naomi ; and Orpah, if she hear of this in Moab, cannot but envy at her sister's hap piness. O the sure and bountiful payments of the Almighty ! Who ever came under his wing in vain ? Who ever lost by trust ing him? Who ever forsook the Moab of this world for the true Israel, and did not at last rejoice in the change ? CONTEMPLATION V. — HANNAH AND PENINNAH. Ill customs, where they are once en tertained, are not easily discharged : poly gamy, besides carnal delight, might now plead age and example, so as even Elkanah, though a Levite, is tainted with the sin of Lamech ; like as fashions of attire, which at the first were disliked as uncomely, yet, when they are once grown common, are taken up of the gravest. Yet this sin, as then current with the time, could not make Elkanah not religious. The house of God in Shiloh was duly frequented of him ; oftentimes alone, in his ordinary course of attendance, with all his males thrice a-year, and once a-year with all his family. The continuance of an unknown sin cannot hinder the uprightness of a man's heart with God ; as a man may have a mole upon his back, and yet think his skin clear; the least touch of knowledge or wilfulness mars his sincerity. He, that by virtue of his place was em ployed about the sacrifices of others, would much less neglect his own. It is a shame for him that teaches God's people that they should not appear before the Lord empty, to bring no sacrifice for himself. If Levites be profane, who should be religious ? It was the fashion, when they sacrificed, to feast ; so did Elkanah : the day of his devotion is the day of his triumph ; he makes great cheer for his whole family, even for that wife which he loved less. There is nothing more comely than cheer fulness in the services of God. What is there in all the world, wherewith the heart of man should be so lift up, as with the conscience of his duty done to his Maker ! While we do so, God doth to us, as our glass, smile upon us, while we smile on him. Love will be seen by entertainment : Peninnah and her children shall not com- Elain of want, but Hannah shall find her usband's affection in her portion ; as his love to her was double, so was her part : she fared not the worse because she was childless. No good husband will dislike his wife for a fault out of the power of her redress ; yea rather, that which might seem to lose the love of her husband, wins it, her barrenness. The good nature of El kanah laboured, by his dear respects, to recompense this affliction ; that so she might find no less contentment in the fruit of his hearty love, than she had grief from her own fruitlessness. It is the property of true mercy to be most favourable to the weak est ; thus doth the gracious spouse of the Christian soul pity the barrenness of his servants. O Saviour, we should not find thee so indulgent to us, if we did not com plain of our own unworthiness ! Peninnah may have the more children, but barren Hannah hath the most love. How much rather could Elkanah have wished Penin nah barren, and Hannah fruitful ! But if she should have had both issue and love, she had been proud, and her rival despised. God knows how to disperse his favours so that every one may have cause both of thankfulness and humiliation : while there is no one that hath all, no one but hath some. If envy and contempt were not thus equally tempered, some would be over- haughty, and others too miserable ; but now every man sees that in himself which is worthy of contempt, and matter of emu lation in others ; and, contrarily, sees what to pity and dislike in the most eminent, and what to applaud in himself; and out of this contrariety arises a sweet mean of contentation. The love of Elkanah is so unable to free Hannah from the wrongs of her rival, that it procures them rather. The unfruitful- ness of Hannah had never with so much despite been laid in her dish, if her hus band's heart had been as barren of love to her. Envy, though it take advantage of our weaknesses, yet is ever raised upon some grounds of happiness in them whom it emulates ; it is ever an ill effect of a good cause. If Abel's sacrifice had not been accepted, and if the acceptation of his sacrifice had not been a blessing, no envy had followed upon it. There is no evil of another, wherein it is fit to rejoice, but his envy, and this is worthy of our joy and thankfulness ; be cause it shows us the price of that good which we had, and valued not. The ma lignity of envy is thus well answered, when it is made the evil cause of a good effect to us, when God and our souls may gain by another's sin. I do not find that Han nah insulted upon Peninnah, for the greater measure of her husband's love, as Penin nah did upon her for her fruitlessness. Those that are truly gracious, know how 152 ELIAND HANNAH. [Book XI. to receive the blessings of God, without contempt of them that want; and have learned to be thankful without overliness. Envy, when it is once conceived in a malicious heart, is like fire in billets of ju niper, which, they say, continues more years than one. Every year was Hannah thus vexed with her emulous partner, and troubled both in her prayers and meals. Amidst all their feastings, she fed on no thing but her tears. Some dispositions are less sensible, and more careless of the de spite and injuries of others, and can turn over unkind usages with contempt. By how much more tender the heart is, so much more deeply is it ever affected with discourtesies : as wax receives and retains that impression, which in the hard clay cannot be seen ; or, as the eye feels that mote, which the skin of the eye-lid could not complain of; yet the husband of Han nah, as one that knew his duty, labours, by his love, to comfort her against these discontentments : " Why weepest thou ? Am I not better to thee than ten sons ?" It is the weakness of good natures to give so much advantage to an enemy. What would malice rather have, than the vexa tion of them whom it persecutes? We cannot better please an adversary, than by hurting ourselves. This is no other than to humour envy, to serve the turn of those that malign us, and to drawn on that malice whereof we are weary ; whereas careless ness puts ill-will out of countenance, and makes it withdraw itself in a rage, as that which doth but shame the author, with out the hurt of the patient. In causeless wrongs, the best remedy is contempt. She, that could not find comfort in the loving persuasions of her husband, seeks it in her prayers : she rises up hungry from the feast, and hastens to the temple ; there she pours out her tears and supplications. Whatsoever the complaint be, here js the remedy. There is one universal receipt for all evils, prayer ; when all helps fail us, this remains, and, while we have an heart, comforts it. Here was not more bitterness in the soul of Hannah, than fervency; she did not only weep and pray, but vow unto God : if God will give her a son, she will give her son to God back again. Even nature itself had consecrated her son to God ; for he could not but be born a LeVite : but if his birth make him a Levite, her vow shall make him a Nazarite, and dedicate his minority to the tabernacle. The way to obtain any benefit, is to devote it, in Our hearts, to the glory of that God of whom we ask it : by this means shall God both pleasure his servant, and honour him self; whereas, if the scope of our desires be carnal, we may be sure either to fail of our suit, or of a blessing. CONTEMPLATION VI. — ELI AND HANNAH. Old Eli sits on a stool by one of the posts of the tabernacle. Where should the priests of God be, but in the temple? Whether for action or for oversight, their very presence keeps God's house in order, and the presence of God keeps their hearts in order. It is oft found, that those which are themselves conscionable, are too forward to the censuring of others. Good Eli, be- cause he marks the lips of Hannah to move without noise, chides her as drunken, and uncharitably misconstrues her devotion. It was a weak ground whereon to build so heavy a sentence. If she had spoken too loud and incomposedly, he might have had some just colour for this conceit ; but now, to accuse her silence, notwithstanding all her tears which he saw, of drunkenness, it was a zealous breach of charity. Some spirits would have been enraged with so rash a censure. When anger meets with grief, both turn into fury. But this good woman had been inured to reproaches, and besides, did well see the reproof arose from misprision, and the misprision from zeal ; and therefore answers meekly, as one that had rather satisfy than expostulate, " Nay, my lord, but I am a woman troubled in spirit." Eli may now learn charity of Hannah. If she had been in that distem per whereof he accused her, his just reproof had not been so easily digested. Guilti ness is commonly clamorous and impatient, whereas innocence is silent, and careless of misreports. It is natural unto all men to wipe off from their name all aspersions of evil, but none do it with such violence as they which are faulty. It is a sign the horse is galled, that stirs too much when he is touched. She that was censured for drunken, censures drunkenness more deeply than her reprover : " Count not thine hand maid for a daughter of Belial." The drun kard's style begins in lawlessness, proceeds in unprofitableness, ends in misery; and all shut up in the denomination of this pe digree, a son of Belial. If Hannah had been tainted with this sin, she would have denied it with more fervour, and have disclaimed it with an ex-. Cont.. VI'.] ELI AND HANNAH. 153 tenuation : what if I should have been merry with wine? yet I might be devout. If I should have overjoyed in my sacrifice to God, one cup of excess had not been so heinous : now her freedom is seen in her se verity. Those which have clear hearts from any sin, prosecute it with rigour, whereas the guilty are ever partial : their conscience holds their hands, and tells them that they beat themselves while they punish others. Now Eli sees his error, and recants it ; and, to make amends for his rash censure, prays for her. Even the best may err, but not persist in it. When good natures have offended, they are unquiet till they have hastened satisfaction. This was within his office, to pray for the distressed : where fore serves the priest, but to sacrifice for the people ? And the best sacrifices are the prayers of faith. She that began her prayers with fasting and heaviness, rises up from them with cheerfulness and repast. It cannot be spoken how much ease and joy the heart of man finds in having unloaded his cares, and poured out his supplications into the ears of God ; since it is well assured, that the suit which is faithfully asked, is already granted in heaven. The conscience may well rest, when it tells us, that we have neglected no means of redressing our afflic tion ; for then it may resolve to look either for amendment, or patience. The sacrifice is ended, and now Elkanah and his family rise up early to return unto Ramah; but they dare not set forward, till they have worshipped before the Lord. That journey cannot hope to prosper, that takes no God with it. The way to receive blessings at home, is to be devout at the temple. She that before conceived faith in her heart, now conceives a son in her womb. God will rather work miracles, than faith ful prayers shall return empty. I do not find that Peninnah asked any son of God, yet she had store ; Hannah begged hard for this one, and could not till now obtain him. They which are dearest to God, do ofttimes, with great difficulty, work out those blessings, which fall into the mouths of the careless. That wise disposer of all things knows it fit to hold us short of those favours which we sue for ; whether for the trial of our patience, or the exercise of our faith, or the increase of our importunity, or the doubling of our obligation. Those children are most like to prove blessings, which the parents have begged of God, and which are no less the fruit of our supplications than of our body. As this child was the son of his mother's prayers, and was consecrated to God ere his possiT bility of being ; so now himself shall know, both how he came, and whereto he was ordained ; and, lest he should forget it, his very name shall teach him both: " She called his name Samuel." He cannot so much as hear himself named, but he must needs remember both the extraordinary mercy of God, in giving him to a barren mother, and the vow of his mother, in re storing him back to God by her zealous de dication ; and by both of them earn holi ness and obedience. There is no necessity of significant names ; but we cannot have too many monitors to put us in mind of our duty. It is wont to be the father's privilege to name his child; but because this was his mother's son, begotten more by her prayers than the seed of Elkanah, it was but reason that she should have the chief hand both in his name and disposing. It had been indeed in the power of Elkanah to have changed both his name and profession, and abrogate the vow of his wife ; that wives might know they were not their own, and that the rib might learn to know the head ; but husbands shall abuse their authority, if they shall wilfully cross the holy pur poses and religious endeavours of their yoke-fellows, flow much more fit is it for them to cherish all good desires in the weaker vessels, and, as we use, when we carry a small light in a wind, to hide it with our lap, or hand, that it may not go out. If the wife be a vine, the husband should be an elm, to uphold her in all worthy enterprises, else she falls to the ground, and proves fruitless. The year is now come about ; and El kanah calls his family to their holy journey, to go up to Jerusalem, for the anniversary solemnity of their sacrifice. Hannah's heart is with them, but she hath a good excuse to stay at home — the charge of her Samuel: her success in the temple, keeps her happily from the temple, that her de votion may be doubled, because it was re spited. God knows how to dispense with necessities ; but if we suffer idle and need less occasions to hold us from the taber nacle of God, our hearts are but hollow to religion. Now, at last, when the child was weaned from her hand, she goes up and pays her vow, and with it pays the interest of her intermission. Never did Hannah go up with so glad a heart to Shiloh, as now that she carries God this reasonable present, which himself gave to her, and she vowed 154 ELI AND HIS SONS. [Book XL to him ; accompanied with the bounty of other sacrifices, more in number and mea sure than the law of God required of her : and all this is too little for her God, that so mercifully remembered her affliction, and miraculously remedied it. Those hearts which are truly thankful, do no less rejoice in repayment, than in their receipt ; and do as much study how to show their hum ble and fervent affections for what they have, as how to compass favours when they want them ; their debt is their burden, which, when they have discharged, they are at ease. If Hannah had repented of her vow, and not presented her son to the taber nacle, Eli could not have challenged him: lie had only seen her lips stir, not hearing the promise of her heart. It was enough that her own soul knew her vow, and God, which was greater than it. The obliga tion of a secret vow is no less, than if it had ten thousand witnesses. Old Eli could not choose but much re joice to see this fruit of those lips, which he thought moved with wine; and this good proof, both of the merciful audience of God, and the thankful fidelity of his handmaid: this sight calls him down to his knees: " He worshipped the Lord." We are unprofitable witnesses of the mercies of God and the graces of men, if we do not glorify him for others' sakes, no less than for pur own. Eli and Hannah grew now better ac quainted ; neither had he so much cause to praise God for her as she afterwards for him ; for if her own prayers obtained her first child, his blessings enriched her with five more. If she had not given her first son to God, ere she had him, I doubt whe ther she had not been ever barren ; or, if she had kept her Samuel at home, whether ever she had conceived again. Now that piety which stripped her of her only child for the service of her God, hath multiplied the fruit of her womb, and gave her five for that one, which was still no less hers because he was God's. There is no so certain way of increase as to lend or give unto the owner of all things. CONTEMPLATION VII. — ELI AND HIS SONS. If the conveyance of grace were natural, holy parents would not be so ill suited with children. What good man would not ra ther wish his loins dry, than fruitful of wickedness ? Now we can neither traduce goodness, nor choose but traduce sin. ff virtue were as well entailed upon us as sin, oile might serve to check the other in our children ; but now, since grace is derived from heaven on whomsoever it pleases the Giver, and that evil, which ours receive hereditarily from us, is multiplied by their own corruption, it can be no wonder that good men have ill children; it is rather a wonder that any children are not evil. The sons of Eli are as lewd, as himself was holy. If the goodness of examples, precepts, education, profession, could have been preservatives from extremity of sin, these sons of a holy father had not been wicked ; now neither parentage, nor breed ing, nor priesthood, can keep the sons of Eh from the sons of Belial. If our chil dren be good, let us thank God for it; this was more than we could give them : if evil, they may thank us, and themselves : us for their birth-sin ; themselves for the improve ment of it to that height of wickedness. If they had not been sons of Eli, yet being priests of God, who would not have hoped their very calling should have infused some holiness into them ? But now, even their white ephod covers foul sins ; yea, rather, if they which serve at the altar de generate, their wickedness is so much more above others, as their place is holier. A wicked priest is the worst creature upon earth. Who are devils but they which were once angels of light ? Who can stumble at the sins of the evangelical Le vites, that sees such impurity even before the ark of God? That God which pro mised to be the Levite's portion, had set forth the portion of his ministers ; he will feast them at his own altar; the breast and the right shoulder of the peace-offering was their morsel. These bold and covetous priests will rather have the flesh-hook their arbiter, than God. Whatsoever those three teeth fasten upon, shall be for their tooth ; they were weary of one joint, and now their delicacy affects variety ; God is not worthy to carve for these men, but their own hands ; and this they do not receive, but take ; and take violently, unseasonably. It had been fit God should be first served ; their presumption will not stay his leisure : ere the fat be burned, ere the flesh be boiled, they snatch more than their share from the altar ; as if the God of heaven should wait on their palate ; as if the Israelites had come thither to sacrifice to their bellies. And, as commonly a wanton tooth is the harbinger of luxurious wantonness, they are no sooner fed, than they neigh after the dames of Israel. Holy women assemble to the door of the tabernacle ; these . varlets Cont. VII.] ELI AND HIS SONS. 155 tempt them to lust, that came thither for devotion : they had wives of their own, yet their unbridled desires rove after strangers, and fear not to pollute even that holy place with abominable fllthiness. O sins too shameful for men, [much more for the spi ritual guides of Israel! He that makes himself a servant to his tooth, shall easily become a slave to all inordinate affections. That altar, which expiated other men's sins, added to the sins of the sacrificers. Doubtless many a soul was the cleaner for the blood of the sacrifices which they shed, while their own were more impure ; and as the altar cannot sanctify the priest, so the uncleanliriess of the minister cannot pollute the offering; because the virtue thereof is not in the agent, but in the in stitution ; in the representation, his sin is his own, the comfort of the sacrament is from God. Our clergy is no charter for heaven. Even those, whose trade is de votion, may at once show the way to heaven by their tongue, and by their foot lead the way to hell. It is neither a cowl, nor an ephod, that can privilege the soul. The sin of these men was worthy of con tempt, yea, perhaps their persons ; but for the people therefore to abhor the offerings of the Lord, was to add their evil unto the priests, and to offend God, because he was offended. There can no offence be justly taken, even at men, much less at God for the sake of men. No man's sins should bring the service of God into dislike : this is to make holy things guilty of our pro- faneness. It is a dangerous ignorance, not to distinguish betwixt the work and the instrument ; whereupon it oft comes to pass, that we fall out with God, because we find cause of offence from men, and give God just cause to abhor us, because we abhor his service unjustly. Although it be true, of great men especially, that they are the last to know the evils of their own house; yet either it could not be, when all Israel rung of the lewdness of Eli's sons, that he only should not know it ; or, if he knew it not, his ignorance cannot be excused ; for a seasonable restraint'might have prevented this extremity of debauchedness. Com plaints are long muttered of the great, ere they dare break forth into open contesta tion. Public accusations of authority argue intolerable extremities of evil. Nothing but age can plead for Eli, that he was not the first accuser of his sons. Now, when their enormities came to be the voice of the multitude, he must hear it by force ; and doubtless he heard it with grief enough, but not with anger enough : he that was the judge of Israel, should have impartially judged his own flesh and blood; never could he have offered a more pleasing sacri fice, than the depraved blood of so wicked sons. In vain do we rebuke those sins abroad, which we tolerate at home. That man makes himself ridiculous, that, leaving his own house on fire, runs to quench his neighbour's. I heard Eli sharp enough to Hannah, upon but a suspicion of sin, and now how mild I find him to the notorious crimes of his own ! " Why do you so, my sons ? it is no good report ; my sons, do no more so." The case is altered with the persons. If nature may be allowed to speak in judg ment, and to make difference, not of sins, but of offenders, the sentence must needs savour of partiality. Had these men but some little slackened their duty, or heed lessly omitted some rite of the sacrifice, this censure had not been unfit ; but to punish the thefts, rapines, sacrileges, adul teries, incests of his sons, with " why do ye so ?" was no other than to shave that head, which had deserved cutting off. As it is with ill humours, that a weak dose doth but stir and anger them, not purge them out, so it fareth with sins : an easy reproof doth but encourage wickedness, and makes it think itself so slight as that censure importeth. A vehement rebuke to a capital evil is but like a strong shower to a ripe field, which lays that corn which were worthy of a sickle. It is a breach of justice, not to proportionate the punish ment to the offence : to whip a man for a murder, or to punish the purse for incest, or to burn treason in the hand, or to award the stocks to burglary, — it is to patronize evil, instead of avenging it. Of the two extremes, rigour is more safe for the public weal, because the over punishing of one of fender frights many from sinning. It is better to live in a commonwealth where nothing is lawful, than where every thing. Indulgent parents are cruel to themselves and their posterity. Eli could not have devised which way to have plagued himself and his house so much, as by his kindness to his children's sins. What variety of judg ments doth he now hear of from the mes senger of God ! First, because his old age (which uses to be subject to choler) in clined now to misfavour his sons, therefore there shall not be an old man left of his house for ever ; and because it vexed him not enough to see his sons enemies to God in their profession, therefore he shall see his enemy in the habitation of the Lord ; and because himself forbore to take venge- 156 ELI AND HIS SONS. [Book XL ance of his sons, and esteemed their life above the glory of his Master, therefore God will revenge himself, by killing them both in one day ; and because he abused his sovereignty by conniving at sin, there fore, shall his house be stripped of this honour, and see it translated to another ; and, lastly, because he suffered his sons to please their own wanton appetite, in taking meat off from God's trencher, therefore those which remain of his house shall come to his successors to beg a piece of silver, and a morsel of bread. In a word, because he was partial to his sons, God shall exe cute all this severely upon him and them. I do not read of any fault Eli had, but in dulgence ; and which of the notorious of fenders were plagued more ? Parents need no other means to make them miserable, than sparing the rod. Who should be the bearer of these fear ful tidings to Eli, but young Samuel, whom himself had trained up ! He was now grown past his mother's coats, fit for the message of God. Old Eli rebuked not his young sons, therefore young Samuel is sent to re buke him. I marvel not, while the priest hood was so corrupted, if the word of God were precious, if there were no public vision. It is not the manner of God to grace the unworthy. The ordinary ministration in the temple was too much honour for those that robbed the altar, though they had no extraordinary revelations. Hereupon it -was, that God lets old Eli sleep (who slept in his sin), and awakes Samuel, to tell him what he would do with his master. He which was wont to be the mouth of God to the people, must now receive the mes sage of God from the mouth of another : as great persons will not speak to those with whom they are highly offended, but send them their checks by others. The lights of the temple were now dim, and almost ready to give place to the morn ing, when God called Samuel ; to signify perhaps, that those which should have been the lights of Israel, burned no less dimly, and were near their going out, and should be succeeded with one so much more light some than they, as the sun was more bright than the lamps. God had good leisure to have delivered this message by day, but he meant to make use of Samuel's mistaking ; and therefore so speaks, that Eli may be asked for an answer, and perceive himself both omitted and censured. He that meant to use Samuel's voice to Eli, imitates the voice of Eli to Samuel : Samuel had so accustomed himself to obedience, and to answer the call of Eli, that lying in the further cells of the Levites, he is easily raised from his sleep ; and even in the night runs for his message to him who was ra ther to receive it from him. Thrice is the old man disquieted with the diligence of his servant ; and, though visions were rare in his days, yet is he not so unacquainted with God, as not to attribute that voice to him which himself heard not. Wherefore, like a better tutor than a parent, he teaches Samuel what he shall answer: "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." It might have pleased God, at the first call, to have delivered his message to Samuel, not expecting the answer of a novice unseen in the visions of God ; yet doth he rather defer it till the fourth sum mons, and will not speak till Samuel con fessed his audience. God loves ever to prepare his servants for his employments, and will not commit his errands but to those whom he addresseth, both by wonder and attention, and humility. Eli knew well the gracious fashion of God, that, where he intended a favour, pro rogation could be no hindrance ; and there fore, after the call of God thrice answered with silence, he instructs Samuel to be ready for the fourth. If Samuel's silence had been wilful, I doubt whether he had been again solicited ; now God doth both pity his error, and requite his diligence, by redoubling his name at the last. Samuel had now many years ministered before the Lord, but never till now heard his voice ; and now hears it with much terror, for the first word that he hears God speak is threatening, and that of vengeance to his master. What were these menaces, but so many premonitions to himself that he should succeed Eli ? God begins early to season their hearts with fear, whom he means to make eminent instruments of his glory. It is his mercy to make us witnesses of the judgments of others, that we may be forewarned, ere we have the occasions of sinning. I do not hear God bid Samuel deliver his message to Eli. He, that was but now made a prophet, knows, that the errands of God intend not silence ; and that God would not have spoken to him of another, if he had meant the news should be reserved to himself: neither yet did he run with open mouth unto Eli, to tell'. him this vision unasked. No wise man will be hasty to bring ill tidings to the great ; rather doth he stay till the importunity of his master should wring it from his unwilling ness ; and then, as his concealment showed his love, so his full relation shall approve Cont. VII.] ELI AND HIS SONS. 157 his fidelity. If the heart of Eli had not told him this news, before God told it Samuel, he had never been so instant with Samuel not to conceal it : his conscience did well presage that it concerned himself. Guiltiness needs no prophet to assure it of punishment. The mind that is troubled, projecteth terrible things ; and though it cannot single out the judgment allotted to it, yet it is in a confused expectation of some grievous evil. Surely Eli could not think it worse than it was : the sentence was fearful, and such as I wonder the neck or the heart of old Eli could hold out the report of : That God swears he will judge Eli's house, and that with beggary, with death, with desolation, and that the wick edness of his house shall not be purged with sacrifice or offerings for ever : and yet this, which every Israelite's ear should tingle to hear of, when it should be done, old Eli hears with an unmoved patience and humble submission : " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." O admirable faith, and more than human constancy and resolution, worthy of the aged president of Shiloh, worthy of a heart sacrificed to that God, whose justice had refused to expiate his sin by sacrifice ! If Eli have been an ill father to his sons, yet he is a good son to God, and is ready to kiss the very rod he shall smart withal : " It is the Lord," whom I have ever found holy and just and gracious, and he cannot but be himself; " let him do what seem eth him good ;" for whatsoever seemeth good to him, cannot but be good, howso ever it seems to me. Every man can open his hand to God while he blesses ; but to expose ourselves willingly to the afflicting hand of our Maker, and to kneel to him while he scourges us, is peculiar only to the faithful. ff ever a good heart could have freed a man from temporal punishments, Eli must needs have escaped. God's anger was appeased by his humble repentance, but his justice must be satisfied. Eli's sin, and his sons', was in the eye and mouth of all Israel ; his, therefore, should have been much wronged by their impunity. Who would not have made these spiritual guides an example of lawlessness, and have said, What care I how I live, if Eli's sons go away unpunished? As not the tears of Eli, so not the words of Samuel, may fall to the ground. We may not measure the displeasure of God by his stripes. ' Many times, after the remission of the sin, the very chastisements of the Almighty are deadly. No repentance can assure us that we shall not smart with outward afflictions : that can prevent the eternal displeasure of God, but still it may be necessary and good we should be corrected : our care and suit must be, that the evils, which shall not be averted, may be sanctified. If the prediction of these evils were fearful, what shall the execution be ? The presumption ofthe ill-taught Israelites shall give occasion to this judgment ; for, being smitten before the Philistines, the}' send for the ark into the field. Who gave them authority to command the ark of God at their pleasure ? Here was no consulting with the ark, which they would fetch ; no inquiry of Samuel, whether they should fetch it; but a heady resolution of pre sumptuous elders to force God into the field, and to challenge success. If God were not with the ark, why did they send for it, and rejoice in the coming of it ? If God were with it, why was not his allow ance asked that it should come ? How can the people be good, where the priests are wicked? When the ark of the covenant of the Lord of hosts, that dwells between the cherubims, was brought into the host, though with mean and wicked attendance, Israel doth, as it were, fill the heaven and shake the earth with shouts ; as if the ark and victory were no less inseparable, than they and their sins. Even the lewdest men will be looking for favour from that God, whom they cared not to displease, contrary to the conscience of their de- servings. Presumption doth the same in wicked men, which faith doth in the holiest. Those that regarded not the God of the ark, think themselves safe and happy in the ark of God. Vain men are transported with a confidence in the outside of religion, not re garding the substance and soul of it, which only can give them true peace. But rather than God will humour superstition in Is raelites, he will suffer his own ark to fall into the hands of Philistines. Rather will he seem to slacken his hand of protection, than he will be thought to have his hands bound by a formal misconfidence. The slaughter of the Israelites was no plague to this ; it was a greater plague rather to them that should survive and behold it. The two sons of Eli, which had helped to corrupt their brethren, die by the hands of the uncircumcised, and are now too late separated from the ark of God by Philis tines, which should have been before se parated by their father. They had lived for merly to bring God's altar into contempt, and now live to carry his ark into captivity : and at last, as those that had made up the 158 THE ARK AND DAGON. [Book XII. measure of their wickedness, are slain in their sin. Ill news doth ever either run or fly. The man of Benjamin, which ran from the host, hath soon filled the city with outcries, and Eli's ears with the cry of the city. The good old man, after ninety arid eight years, sits in the gate, as one that never thought himself too aged to do God service, and hears the news of Israel's discomfiture, and his sons' death, though with sorrow, yet with patience: but when the messenger tells him the ark of God is taken, he can live no longer ; that word strikes him down backward from his throne, and kills him in the fall. No sword of a Philistine could have slain him more painfully : neither know I whether his neck or his heart were first broken. O fearful judgment, that ever any Israelite's ear could tingle withal ! The ark lost ! What good man would wish to live without God? Who can choose but think he hath lived too long, that hath overlived the testimonies of God's presence with his church ? Yea, the very daughter- in-law of Eli, a woman, the wife of a lewd husband, when she was at once travailing (upon that tidings), and in that travail dying, to make up the full sum of God's judgment upon that wicked house, as one insensible of the death of her father, of her husband, of herself, in comparison of this loss, calls her (then unseasonable) son Ichabod, and with her last breath says, " The glory is departed from Israel, the ark is taken." What cares she for a pos terity which should want the ark? What cares she for a son come into the world of Israel, when God was gone from it ? And how willingly doth she depart from them, from whom God was departed ! Not out ward magnificence, not state, not wealth, not favour of the mighty, but the presence of God in his ordinances, are the glory of Israel ; the subduing whereof is a greater Judgment than destruction. O Israel, worse now than no people ! a thousand times more miserable than Philis tines ! Those Pagans went away triumph ing with the ark of God and victory, and leave the remnants of the chosen people to lament that they once had a God. O cruel and wicked indulgence, that is now found guilty of the death, not only of the priests and people, but of religion ! Unjust mercy can never end in less than blood : and it were well if only the body should have cause to complain of that kind cruelty. BOOK XII. Contemplation iv. — the ark and dagon. If men did not mistake God, they could not arise to such height of impiety; the acts of his just judgment are imputed to im potence. That God would send his ark captive to the Philistines, is so construed by them, as if he could not keep it. The wife of Phinehas cried out, that glory was de parted from Israel; the Philistines dare say in triumph that glory is departed from the God of Israel. The ark was not Is rael's but God's : this victory reaches higher than to men. Dagon had never so great a day, so many sacrifices, as now that he seems to take the God of Israel prisoner. Where should the captive be bestowed, but in custody of the victor ? It is not love, but insultation, that lodges the ark close be side Dagon. What a spectacle was this, to see uncircumcised Philistines laying their profane hands upon the testimony of God's presence ! to see the glorious mercy-seat under the roof of an idol ! to see the two cherubims spreading their wings under a false god ! O the deep and holy wisdom of the Al mighty, which overreaches all the finite con ceits of his creatures ! who, while he seems most to neglect himself, fetches about most glory to his own name ! He winks, and sits still, on purpose to see what men would do, and is content to suffer indignity from his creature for a time, that he may be ever lastingly magnified in his justice and power. That honour pleaseth God and men best, which is raised out of contempt. The ark of God was not used to such porters : the Philistines carry it unto Ash dod, that the victory of Dagon may be more glorious. What pains superstition puts men unto, for the triumph of a false cause ! And if profane Philistines can think it no toil to carry the ark where they should not, what a shame is it for us, if we do not gladly attend it where we should ! How justly may God's truth scorn the imparity of our zeal ! If the Israelites did put confidence in the ark, can we marvel that the Philistines did put confidence in that power, which, as they thought, had conquered the ark ? The less is ever subject unto the greater ; what could they now think, but that heaven and earth were theirs ? Who shall stand out against them, when the God of Israel hath yielded ? Security and presumption attend ever at the threshold of ruin. Cont. I.] THE ARK AND DAGON. 159 Godwill let them sleep in this confi dence : in the morning they shall find how vainly they have dreamed. Now they be gin to find they have but gloried in their own plague, and overthrown nothing but their own peace. Dagon hath a house, when God hath but a tabernacle. It is no measuring of religion by outward glory. Into this house the proud Philistines come the next morning, to congratulate unto their god so great a captive, such divine spoils, and, in their early devotions, to fall down before him, under whom the God of Israel was fallen ; and lo ! where they find their god fallen down on the ground upon his face, before him whom they thought both his prisoner and theirs. Their god is forced to do that, which they should have done voluntarily ; although God casts down that dumb rival of his for scorn, not for adoration. O ye foolish Philistines! could ye think that the same house would hold God and Dagon ? could ye think a senseless stone a fit companion and guar dian for the living God ? Had ye laid your Dagon upon his face, prostrate before the ark, yet would not God have endured the indignity of such a lodging ; but now that ye presume to set up your carved stone equal to his cherubims, go, read your folly in the floor of your temple ; and know, that He, which cast your god so low, can cast you lower. The true God owes a shame to those which will be making matches between himself and Belial. But this perhaps was only a mischance, or a neglect of attendance. Lay to your hands, O ye Philistines, and raise up Dagon into his place. It is a miserable god that needs helping up : had ye not been more senseless than that stone, how could ye choose but think, How shall he raise us above our enemies, that cannot rise alone? how shall he establish us in the station of our peace, that cannot hold his own foot ? If Dagon did give the foil unto the God of Israel, what power is it that hath cast him upon his face, in his own temple ? It is just with God, that those which want grace shall want wit too. It is the power of superstition to turn men into those stocks and stones which they worship : they that make them are like unto them. Doubt less this first fall of Dagon was kept as se cret, and excused as well as it might, and served rather for astonishment than con viction : there was more strangeness than horror in that accident. That whereas Dagon had wont to stand, and the Philis tines fall down, —now Dagon fell down, and the Philistines stood, and must become the patrons of their own god ; their god worships them upon his face, and craves more help from them than ever he could give. But if their sottishness can digest this, all is well. Dagon is set in his place ; and now those hands are lift up to him which helped to lift him up ; and those faces are prostrate unto him, before whom he lay prostrate. Idolatry and superstition are not easily put out of countenance : but will the jealousy of the true God put it up thus ? shall Da gon escape with a harmless fall ? Surely, if they had let him lie still upon the pave ment, perhaps that insensible statue had found no other revenge ; but now they will be advancing it to the rood-loft again, and affront God's ark with it : the event will shame them, and let them know, how much God scorns a partner, either of his own making or theirs. The morning is fittest for devotion ; then do the Philistines flock to the temple of their god. What a shame is it for us to come late to ours ! although not so much piety as curiosity did now hasten their speed, to see what rest their Dagon was allowed to get in his own roof. And now, behold, their kind god is come to meet them in the way ; some pieces of him salute their eyes upon the threshold : Dagon's head and hands are overrun their fellows, to tell the Philistines how much they were mistaken in their god. This second fall breaks the idol in pieces, and threats the same confusion to the wor shippers of it. Easy warnings neglected, end ever in destruction. The head is for devising ; the hand for execution : in these two powers of their God did the Philistines chiefly trust ; these are therefore laid un der their feet upon the threshold, that they might afar off see their vanity, and that, if they would, they might set their foot on that best piece of their god, whereon their heart was set. There was nothing wherein that idol re sembled a man but in his head and hands ; the rest was but a scaly portraiture of a fish : God would therefore separate from this stone that part which had mocked man with the counterfeit of himself, that man might see what an unworthy lump he had matched with himself, and set up above himself. The just quarrel of God is bent upon those means, and that parcel, which had dared to rob him of his glory. How can the Philistines now miss the sight of their own folly ? how can they be but enough convicted of their mad idolatry, 160 THE ARK AND DAGON. [Book XII. to see their god lie broken to morsels under their feet ? every piece whereof proclaims the power of Him that brake it, and the stupidity of those that adored it ! Who would expect any other issue of this act, but to hear the Philistines say, We now see how superstition hath blinded us ! Da gon is no god for us ; our hearts shall never more rest upon a broken statue ; that only true God, which hath broken ours, shall challenge us by the right of conquest. But here was none of this ; rather a further de gree of their dotage follows upon this pal pable conviction ; they cannot yet suspect that god, whose head they may trample upon ; but, instead of hating their Dagon, that lay broken upon their threshold, they honour the threshold on which Dagon lay, and dare not set their foot on that place, which was hallowed by the broken head and hands of their deity. O the obstinacy of idolatry, which, where it hath got hold of the heart, knows neither to blush nor yield, but rather gathers strength frbm that which might justly confound it ! The hand of the Almighty, which moved them not in falling upon their God, falls now nearer them upon their persons, and strikes them in their bodies, which would not feel them selves stricken in their idol. Pain shall humble them whom shame cannot. Those which had entertained the secret thoughts of abominable idolatry within them, are now plagued, in the inwardest and most secret part of their bodies, with a loathsome dis ease ; and now grow weary of themselves, instead of their idolatry. I do not hear them acknowledge it was God's hand which had stricken Dagon their god, till now they find themselves stricken. God's judgments are the rack of godless men : if one strain ' make them not confess, let them be stretched but one wrench higher, and they cannot be silent. The just avenger of sin will not lose the glory of his executions, but will have men know from whom they smart. The emerods were not a disease beyond the compass of natural causes ; neither was it hard for the wiser sort to give a reason of their complaint ; yet they ascribe it to the hand of God. " The knowledge and opera tion of secondary causes should be no pre judice to the first. They are worse than the Philistines, who, when they see the means, do not acknowledge the first mover, whose active just power is no less seen in employing ordinary agents, than in raising up extraordinary; neither doth he less smite hy a common fever, than by a revenging angel. t They judge right of the cause : what do . they resolve for the cure ? " Let not the ark of the God of Israel abide with us ;" where they should have said, Let us cast out Dagon, that We may pacify and retain the God of Israel : they determine to thrust out the ark of God, that they might peace ably enjoy themselves and Dagon. Wicked men are upon all occasions glad to be rid of God, but they can, with no patience, endure to part with their sins ; and while they are weary of the hand that punisheth them, they hold fast the cause of their pu nishment. Their first and only care is to put away him, who, as he hath corrected, so can ease them. Folly is never separated from wickedness. Their heart told them that they had no right to the ark. A council is called of their princes and priests. If they had re solved to send it home, they had done wisely. Now they do not carry it away, but they carry it about from Ebenezer to Ashdod, from Ashdod to Gath, from Gath to Ekron. Their stomach was greater than their conscience. The ark was too sore for them ; yet it was too good for Israel, and they will rather die than make Israel happy. Their conceit, that the change of the air could appease the ark, God useth to his own advantage]; for by this means his power is known, and his judgment spread over all the country ofthe Philistines. What do these men now, but send the plague of God to their fellows ? The justice of God can make the sins of men their mutual executioners. It is the fashion of wicked men to draw their neighbours into the part nership of their condemnation. Wheresoever the ark goes, there is de struction. The best of God's ordinances, if they be not proper to us, are deadly. The Israelites did pot more shout for joy, when they saw the ark come to them, than the Ekronites cry out for grief to see it brought amongst them. Spiritual things are either sovereign or hurtful, according to the disposition of the receivers. The ark doth either save or kill, as it is entertained. At last, when the Philistines are well weary of pain and death, they are glad to be quit of their sin. The voice of the princes and people is changed to the better: " Send away the ark of the God of Israel, and let it return to his own place." God knows how to bring the stubbornest enemy upon his knees, and makes him do that out of fear, which his best child would do out of love and duty. How miserable was the estate of these Philistines ! Every man was either dead or sick. Those that were Cont. II.] THE ARK'S RETURN. 161 left living, through their extremity of pain, envied the dead, and the cry of their whole cities went up to heaven. It is happy that God hath such store of plagues and thun derbolts for the wicked : if he had not a fire of judgment, wherewith the iron hearts of men might be made flexible, he would want obedience, and the world peace. CONTEMPLATION II THE ARKS REVENGE AND RETURN. It had wont to be a sure rule, whereso ever God is amongmen, there is the church : here only it failed. The testimony of God's presence was many months amongst the Philistines, for a punishment to his own people whom he left ; for a curse to those foreigners which entertained it. Israel was seven months without God. How' do we think faithful Samuel took this absence? How desolate and forlorn did the taber nacle of God look without the ark ! There were still the altars of God; his priests, Le vites, tables, vails, censers, and all their le gal accoutrements : these, without the ark, were as the sun without light in the midst of an eclipse, ff all these had been taken away, and only the ark had been remaining, the loss had been nothing to this, that the ark should be gone, and they left : for what are all these without God, and how all- sufficient is God without these ! There are times wherein God withdraws himself from his church, and seems to leave her without comfort, without protection. Sometimes we shall find Israel taken from the ark ; other whiles the ark is taken from Israel : in either, there is a separation betwixt the ark and Israel. Heavy times to every true Israelite; yet such, as whose example may relieve us in our desertions. Still was this people Israel the seed of him that would not be left of God without a blessing ; and therefore, without the testimony of his pre sence, was God present with them. It were wide with the faithful, if God were not oftentimes with them, when there is no witness of his presence. One act was a mutual penance to the Israelites and Philistines ; I know not to whether more. Israel grieved for the loss of that, whose presence grieved the Phi listines ; their pain was therefore no other than voluntary. It is strange that the Philistines would endure seven months' smart with the ark, since they saw that the presence of that prisoner would not re quite, no, nor mitigate to them one hour's misery. Foolish men will be struggling with God, till they be utterly either breath less or impotent. Their hope was, that time might abate displeasure, even while they persisted to offend. The false hopes of worldly men cost them dear : they could not be so miserable, if their own hearts did not deceive them with misexpectations of impossible favour. In matters that concern a God, who is so fit to be consulted with as the priests ? The princes of the Philistines had before given their voices ; yet nothing is deter mined, nothing is done without the direction and assent of those whom they accounted sacred. Nature itself sends us, in divine things, to those persons whose calling is divine. It is either distrust or presumption, or contempt, that carries us our own ways in spiritual matters, without advising with them whose lips God hath appointed to pre serve knowledge. There cannot but arise many difficulties in us about the ark of God : whom should we consult with, but those which have the tongue of the learned ? Doubtless, this question of the ark did abide much debating. There wanted not fair probabilities on both sides. A wise Philistine might well plead, If God had either so great care of the ark, or power to retain it, how is it become ours ? A wiser than he would reply, If the God of Israel had wanted either care or power, Dagon and we had been still whole : why do we thus groan and die, all that are but within the air of the ark, if a divine hand do not attend it ? Their smart pleads enough for the dismission of the ark. The next demand of their priests and sooth sayers is, how it should be sent home. Affliction had made them so wise as to know, that every fashion of parting with the ark would not satisfy the owner. Of tentimes the circumstance of an action mars the substance. In divine matters we must not only look that the body of our service be sound, but the clothes be fit. Nothing hinders, but that sometimes good advice may fall from the mouth of wicked men. These superstitious priests can counsel them not to send away the ark of God empty, but to give it a sin-offering. They had not lived so far from the smoke of the Jewish altars, but that they knew God was accustomed to manifold oblations, and chiefly those of expiation. No Israelite could have said better : superstition is the ape of true devotion ; and if we look not to the ground of both, many times it is hard, by the very outward acts, to distin guish them. Nature itself teacheth us, that God loves a full hand : he that hath L 162 THE ARK'S RETURN. [Book XII. been so bountiful to us as to give us all, looks for a return of some offering from us. If we present him with nothing but our sins, how can we look to be accepted ? The sacrifices under the Gospel are spiri tual ; with these must we come into the presence of God, if we desire to carry away remission and favour. The Philistines knew well that it were bootless for them to offer what they listed : their next suit is to be directed in the mat ter of their oblation. Pagans can teach us how unsafe it is to walk in the ways of re ligion without a guide ; yet here trieir best teachers can but guess at their duty, and must devise for the people that which the people durst not impose upon themselves. The golden emerods and mice were but conjectural prescripts. With what security may we consult with them which have their directions from the mouth and hand ofthe Almighty! God struck the Philistines at once in their god, in their bodies, in their land : in their god, by his ruin and dismembering ; in their bodies, by the emerods ; in their land, by the mice. That base vermin did God send among them, on purpose to shame their Dagon and them, that they might see how unable their god was, which they thought the victor of the ark, to sub due the least mouse which the true God did create, and command to plague them. This plague upon their fields began toge ther with that upon their bodies ; it was mentioned, not complained of, till they think of dismissing the ark. Greater crosses do commonly swallow up the less ; at least, lesser evils are either silent or unheard, while the ear is filled with the clamour of greater. Their very princes were punished with the mice, as well as with the emerods. God knows no persons in the execution of judgments : the least and meanest of all God's creatures is sufficient to be the re venger of his Creator. God sent them mice, and emerods of flesh and blood: they return him both these of gold, to imply both that these judgments came out from God, and that they did gladly give him the glory of that whereof he gave them pain and sorrow, and that they would willingly buy off their pain with the best of their substance. The propor tion betwixt the complaint and satisfaction is more precious to him than the metal. There was a public confession in this re semblance, which is so pleasing unto God, that he rewards it, even in wicked men, with a relaxation of outward punishment. The number was no less significant than the form : five golden emerods and mice, for the five princes and divisions of Phi listines. As God made no difference in punishing, so they make none in their obla tion. The people are comprised in them in whom they are united, their several princes : they were one with their prince ; their offspring is one with his ; as they were ringleaders in the sin, so they must be in the satisfaction. In a multitude it is ever seen, as in a beast, that the body fol lows the head. Of all others, great men had need look to their ways ; it is in them as in figures — ¦ one stands for a thousand. One offering serves not all; there must be five, according to the five heads of the offence. Generalities will not content God ; every man must make his several peace, if not in himself, yet in his head. Nature taught them a shadow of that, the sub stance and perfection whereof is taught us by the grace of the Gospel. Every soul must satisfy God, if not in itself, yet in Him in whom we are both one, and ab solute. We are the body, whereof Christ is the head : our sin is in ourselves ; our satisfaction must be in him. Samuel himself could not have spoken more divinely than these priests of Da gon : they do not only talk of giving glory to the God of Israel, but fall into a holy and grave expostulation -. Wherefore, then, should ye harden your hearts, as the Egyp tians and Pharaoh hardened their hearts, when he wrought wonderfully amongst them ? &c. They confess a super-eminent and revenging hand of God over their gods ; they parallel their plagues with the Egyp tians'; they make use of Pharaoh's sin and judgment : what could be better said ? All religions have afforded them that could speak well. These good words left them still both Philistines and superstitious. How should men be hypocrites, if they had not good tongues ? Yet, as wicked ness can hardly hide itself, these holy speeches are not without a tincture of that idolatry wherewith the heart was in fected ; for they profess care not only of the persons and lands of the Philistines,* but of their gods : " That he may take his hand from you, and from your gods." Who would think that wisdom and folly could lodge so near together? that the same men should have care both of the glory of the true God, and preservation of the false ? that they should be so vain as to take thought for those gods which they granted to be obnoxious unto a higher Deity ? Ofttimes even one word bewray- eth a whole pack of falsehood ; and though Cont. III.] REMOVAL OF THE ARK. 163 superstition be a cleanly counterfeit, yet some one slip of the tongue discovers it ; as we say of devils, which, though they put on fair forms, yet are they known by their cloven feet. What other warrant these superstitious priests had for the main substance of their advice, I know not ; sure I am, the proba bility of the event was fair, that two kine, never used to any yoke, should run from their calves, which were newly shut up from them, to draw the ark home into a contrary way, must needs argue a hand above nature. What else should overrule brute creatures to prefer a forced carriage unto a natural burden ? What should carry them from their own home towards the home of the ark ? What else should guide an untamed and untaught team in as right a path towards Israel as their teachers could have gone ? What else could make very beasts more wise than their masters ? There is a special providence of God in the very motions of brute creatures : nei ther Philistines nor Israelites saw ought that drove them, yet they saw them so run as those that were led by a divine conduct. The reasonless creatures also do the will of their Maker : every act that is done either by them, or to them, makes up the decree of the Almighty: and if, in extra ordinary actions and events, his hand is more visible, yet it is no less certainly present in the common. Little did the Israelites of Beth-shemesh look for such a sight, while they were reap ing their wheat in the valley, as to see the ark of God come running to them without a convoy : neither can it be said whether they were more affected with joy or with astonishment ; with joy at the presence of the ark, with astonishment at the miracle of the transportation. Down went their sickles, and now every man runs to reap the comfort of this better harvest — to meet that bread of angels — to salute those cherubims — to welcome that God, whose absence had been their death. But as it is hard not to overjoy in a sudden prospe rity, and to use happiness is no less diffi cult than to forbear it, these glad Israelites cannot see, but they must gaze : they can not gaze on the glorious outside, but they must be, whether out of rude jollity, or curiosity, or suspicion of the purloining some of those sacred implements, prying into the secrets of God's ark. Nature is too subject to extremities, and is ever either too dull in want, or wanton in fruition : it is no easy matter to keep a mean, whether in good or evil. Beth-shemesh was a city of priests : they should have known better how to demean themselves towards the ark ; this privilege doubled their offence. There was no malice in this curious inquisition : the same eyes that looked into the ark, looked also up to heaven in their offerings ; and the same hands that touched it, offered sacrifice to the God that brought it. Who could ex pect any thing now but acceptation ? who would suspect any danger? It is not a following act of devotion that can make amends for a former sin. There was a death owing them immediately upon their offence : God will take his own-time for the execution. In the meanwhile they may sacrifice, but they cannot satisfy ; they can not escape. The kine are sacrificed ; the cart burns them that drew it. Here was an offering of praise, when they had more need of a trespass-offering. Many a heart is lifted up in a conceit of joy, when it hath just cause of humiliation. God lets them alone with their sacrifice ; but, when that is done, he comes over them with a back- reckoning for their sin. Fifty thousand and seventy Israelites are struck dead, for this unreverence to the ark : a woful wel come for the ark of God into the borders of Israel ! It killed them for looking into it, who thought it their life to see it. It dealt blows and death on both hands, to Philis tines, to Israelites ; to both of them for profaning it, the one with their idol, the other with their eyes. It is a fearful thing to use the holy ordinances of God with an unreverent boldness. Fear and trembling become us, in our access to the majesty of the Almighty. Neither was there more state than secrecy in God's ark. Some things the wisdom of God desires to con ceal. The unreverence of the Israelites was no more faulty than their curiosity. " Secret things belong to God ; things re vealed, to us and to our children." CONTEMPLATION III. — THE REMOVAL OF THE ARK. I hear ofthe Beth-shemites' lamentation; I hear not of their repentance : they com plain of their smart, they complain not of their sin ; and, for aught I can perceive, speak as if. God were curious, rather than they faulty : " Who is able to stand be fore this holy Lord God, and to whom shall he go from us ?" As if none could please that God, which misliked them. It is the fashion of natural men, to justify themselves in their own courses : if they l2 164 REMOVAL OF THE ARK. [Book XIL cannot charge any earthly thing with the blame of their suffering, they will cast it on heaven. That a man pleads himself guilty of his own wrong, is no common work of God's Spirit. Beth-shemesh bor dered too near upon the Philistines. If these men thought the very presence of the ark hurtful, why do they send to their neighbours of Kirjath-jearim, that they might make themselves miserable ? Where there is a misconceit of God, it is no mar vel if there be a defect of charity. How cunningly do they send their message to their neighbours ! They do not say, the ark of God is come to us of its own ac cord; lest the men of Kirjath-jearim should reply, It is come to you ; let it stay with you. They say only, the Philistines have brought it. They tell of the presence of the ark; they do not tell ofthe success, lest the example of their judgment should have discouraged the forwardness of their relief. And, after all, the offer was plausible ; " Come ye down, and take it up to you ;" as if the honour had been tod great for themselves ; as if their modesty had been such, that they would not forestall and en gross happiness from the rest of Israel. It is no boot to teach nature how to tell her own tale ; smart and danger will make a man witty. He is rarely constant, that will not dissemble for ease. It is good to be suspicious of the evasions of those which would put off misery. Those of Beth-shemesh were not more crafty than these of Kirjath-jearim (which was the ground of their boldness) faithful. So many thousand Beth-shemites could not be dead, and no part of the rumour fly to them. They heard how thick not only the Philistines, but the bordering Israelites, fell down dead before the ark ; yet they durst adventure to come, and fetch it, even from amongst the carcases of their bre thren. They had been formerly acquaint ed with the ark ; they knew it was holy, it could not be changeable ; and therefore they well conceived this slaughter to arise from the unholiness of men, not from the rigour of God, and thereupon can seek comfort in that which others found dead ly. God's children cannot, by any means, be discouraged from their honour and love to his ordinances. If they see thousands struck down to hell by the sceptre of God's kingdom, yet they will kiss it upon their knees ; and if their Saviour be a rock of offence, and the occasion of the fall of mil lions in Israel, they can feed temperately of that whereof others have surfeited to death. Beth-shemesh was a city of priests and Levites. Kirjath-jearim a city of Judah, where we hear but of one Levite, Abina dab ; yet this city was more zealous for God, more reverent and conscionable in the entertainment of the ark, than the other. We heard of the taking down of the ark by the Beth-shemites, when it came miraculously to them : we do not hear of any man sanctified fpr the atten dance of it, as was done in this second- lodging of the ark. Grace is not tied either to number or means. It is in spiritual matters, as in an estate ; small helps with good thrift enrich us, when great patrimo nies lose themselves in the neglect. Shi loh was wont to be the place which was honoured with the presence of the ark. Ever since the wickedness of Eli's sons, that was forlorn and desolate, and now Kirjath- jearim succeeds into this privilege. It did not stand with the royal liberty of God, no, not under the law, to tie himself unto places and persons. Unworthiness was ever a sufficient cause of exchange. ^ It was not yet his time to stir from the Jews, yet he removed from one province to another. Less reason have we to think, that so God will reside amongst us, that none of our provocations can drive him from us. Israel, which had found the misery of God's absence, is now resolved into tears of contrition and thankfulness upon his return. There is no mention of their la menting after the Lord while he was gone ; but when he was returned, and settled in Kirjath-jearim, the mercies of God draw more tears from his children, than his judg ments do from his enemies. There is no better sign of good nature or grace, than to be won to repentance with kindness. Not to think of God, except we be beaten into it, is servile. Because God was come again to Israel, therefore Israel is returned to God : if God had not come first, they had never come. If he, that came to them, had not made them come to him, they had been ever parted. They were cloyed with God, while he was perpetually resident with them : now that his absence had made him dainty, they cleave to him fervently and penitently in his return. This was it that God meant in his departure, a better welcome at his coming back. I heard no news of Samuel, all this while the ark was gone. Now when the ark is returned and placed in Kirjath-jearim, I hear him treat with the people. It is not like he was silent in this sad desertion of God ; but now he takes full advantage of the professed contrition of Israel, to deal Cont. IV] SAUL AND SAMUEL. 165 with them effectually, for their perfect con version unto God. It is great wisdom, in spiritual matters, to take occasion by the forelock, and to strike while the iron is hot. We may beat long enough at the door, but till God have opened, it is no going in ; and, when he hath opened, it is no de laying to enter. The trial of sincerity is the abandoning of our wonted sins. This Samuel urgeth : " If ye be come again unto the Lord with all your heart, put away the strange gods from among you, andyishta- roth." In vain had it been to profess re pentance, whilst they continued in idolatry. God will never acknowledge any convert that stays in a known sin. Graces and vir tues are so linked together, that he which hath one, hath all. The partial conversion of men unto God is but hateful hypocrisy. How happily effectual is a word spoken in season ! Samuel's exhortation wrought upon the hearts of Israel, and fetched water out of their eyes, suits and confessions and vows out of their lips, and their false gods out of their hands ; yet it was not merely remorse, but fear also, that moved Israel to this humble submission. The Philistines stood over them* still, and threatened them with new assaults ; the memory of their late slaughter and spoil was yet fresh in their minds ; sorrow for the evils past, and fear of the future, fetched them down upon their knees. It is not more necessary for men to be cheered with hopes, than to be awed with dangers. Where God intends the humiliation of his servants, there shall not want means of their dejection. It was happy for Israel that they had an enemy. Is it possible that the Philistines, after those deadlyplagues which they had sustained from the God of Israel, should think of invading Israel? Those that were so mated with the presence of the ark, that they never thought themselves safe till it was out of sight, do they now dare to thrust themselves upon the new revenge of the ark ? It slew them while they thought to honour it ; and do they think to escape whilst they resist it ? It slew them in their own coasts ; and do they come to it to seek death ? Yet, behold, no sooner do the Phi listines hear that the Israelites are gathered to Mizpeh, but the princes of the Philis tines gather themselves against them. No warnings will serve obdurate hearts: wick ed men are even ambitious of destruction. Judgments need not go to find them out ; they run to meet their bane. The Philistines come up, and the Israel ites fear ; they that had not the wit to fear, whilst they were not friends with God, have not now the grace of fearlessness, when they were reconciled to God. Bold«- ness and fear are commonly misplaced in the best hearts : when we should tremble, we are confident ; and when we should be assured, we tremble. Why should Israel have feared, since they had made their peace with the God of hosts ? Nothing should affright those which are upright with God. The peace which Israel had made with God was true, but tender. They durst not trust their own innocency, so much as the prayers of Samuel : " Cease not to cry to the Lord our God for us." In temporal things, nothing hinders but we may fare better for other men's faith than for our own. It is no small happiness to be interested in them which are favourites in the court of heaven. One faithful man, in these occasions, is more worth than millions of the wavering and uncertain. A good heart is easily won to devotion. Samuel cries, and sacrificeth to God : he had done so, though they had entreated his silence, yea, his forbearance. While he is offering, the Philistines fight with Israel, and God fights with the Philistines : " The Lord thundered with a great thunder that day, upon the Philistines, and scattered them." Samuel fought more upon his knees, than all Israel besides. The voice of God answered the voice of Samuel, and speaks confusion and death to the Philis tines. How were the proud Philistines dead with fear ere they died, to hear the fearful thunder-claps of an angry God against them ! to see that heaven itself fought against them ! He that slew them secretly, in the revenges of his ark, now kills them with open horror in the fields. If presumption did not make wicked men mad, they would never lift their hand against the Almighty : what are they in his hands, when he is disposed to vengeance ! CONTEMPLATION IV. — THE MEETING OF SAUL AND SAMUEL. Samuel began his acquaintance with God early, and continued it long. He began it in his long coats, and continued to his grey hairs. He judged Israel all the days of his life. God doth not use to put off his old servants ; their age endeareth them to him the more : if we be not unfaithful to him, he cannot be unconstant to us. At last, his decayed age met with ill partners ; his sons for deputies, and Saul for a king. The wickedness of his sons gave the oc casion of a change. Perhaps Israel had 166 SAUL AND SAMUEL. [Book XII. never thought of a king, if Samuel's sons had not been unlike their father. Who can promise himself holy children, when the loins of a Samuel, and the education in the temple, yielded monsters ? It is riot likely that good Samuel was faulty in that in dulgence, for which his own mouth had denounced God's judgment against Eli : yet this holy man succeeds Eli in his cross, as well as his place, though not in his sin, and is afflicted with a wicked succession. God will let us find, that grace is by gift, not by inheritance. I fear Samuel was too partial to nature in the surrogation of his sons : I do not hear of God's allowance to this act ; if this had been God's choice, as well as his, it had been like to have received more bless ing. Now all Israel had cause to rue, that these were the sons of Samuel : for now the question was not of their virtues, but of their blood ; not of their worthiness, but their birth, Even the best heart may be blinded with affection. Who can marvel at these errors of parents' love, when he, that so holily judged Israel all his life, mis judged of his own sons ! It was God's ancient purpose to raise up a king to his people, flow doth he take occasion to perform it, but by the unruly desires of Israel : even as we say of hu man proceedings, that ill manners beget good laws. That monarchy is the best form of government, there is no question : good things may be ill desired ; so was this of Israel. If an itching desire of alteration had not possessed them, why did they not rather sue for a reformation of their go vernors, than for a change of government? Were Samuel's sons so desperately evil, that there was no possibility of amendment ? or, if they were past hope, were there not some others to have succeeded the justice of Samuel, no less than these did his per son? What needed Samuel to be thrust out of place ?' What needed the ancient form of administration to be altered ? He, that raised them up judges, would have found time to raise them up kings. Their curious and inconstant newfangledness will not abide to stay it, but with an heady im portunity labours to over-hasten the pace of God. Where there is a settled course of good government, howsoever blemished with some weaknesses, it is not safe to be over-forward to a change, though it should be to the better. He, by whom kings reign, says, they have cast him away, that he should not reign over them, because they desire a king to reign over them. Judges were his own institution to his people ; as yet, kings were not : after that kings were settled, to desire the government of judges had been a much more seditious inconstancy. God hath not appointed, to every time and place, such forms which are simply best in themselves, but those which are best to them unto whom they are ap pointed ; which we may neither alter till he begin, nor recall when he hath altered. This' business seemed personally to con cern Samuel ; yet he so deals in it, not as a party, not as a judge in his own case, but as a prophet of God, as a friend of his opposite. He prays to God for advice ; he foretells the state and courses of their future king. Wilful men are blind to all dangers ; are deaf to all good counsels. Israel must have a king, though they pay never so dear for their longing. The vain affectation of conformity to other nations overcomes all discouragements. There is no readier way to error, than to make others' examples the rule of our desires or actions. If every man have not grounds of his own, whereon to stand, there can be no stability in his re solutions or proceedings. Since, then, they choose to have a king, God himself will choose and appoint the king which they shall have. The kingdom shall begin in Benjamin, which was to en dure in Judah. It was no probability or reason this first king should prove well, because he was abortive : their humour of innovation deserved to be punished with their own choice. Kish, the father of Saul, was mighty in estate ; Saul was mighty in person, overlooking the rest of the people in stature, no less than he should do in dignity. The senses of the Israelites could not but be well pleased for the time, how soever their hearts were afterwards. When men are carried with outward shows, it is a sign that God means them a delusion. How far God fetches his purposes about! The asses of Kish, Saul's father, are strayed away : what is that to the news of a king dom ? God lays these small accidents for the ground of greater designs. The asses must be lost ; none but Saul must go with his father's servant to seek them : Samuel shall meet them in the search ; Saul shall be premonished of his ensuing royalty. Little can we, by the beginning of any action, guess at God's intention in the con clusion. Obedience was a fit entrance into sove reignty. The service was homely for the son of a great man ; yet he refuseth not to go, as a fellow to his father's servant, upon so mean a search. The disobedient and scornful are good for nothing; they are Cont. IV.] SAUL AND SAMUEL. 167 neither fit to be subjects nor governors. Kish was a great man in his country, yet he disdained not to send his son Saul upon a thrifty errand ; neither doth Saul plead his disparagement for a refusal. Pride and wantonness have marred our times. Great parents count it a disreputation to employ their sons in courses of frugality ; and their pampered children think it a shame to do any thing, and so bear themselves as those that hold it the only glory to be either idle or wicked. Neither doth Saul go fashionably to work, but does this service heartily and painfully, as a man that desires rather to effect the command, than please the com mander. He passed from Ephraim to the land of Shalisha, from Shalisha to Salim, from Salim to Jemini, whence his house came, from Jemini to Zuph ; not so much as staying with any of his kindred so long as to victual himself. He, that was after ward an ill king, approved himself a good son. As there is diversity of relations and offices, so there is of dispositions: those which are excellent in some, attain not to a mediocrity in others. It is no arguing from private virtues to public ; from dex terity in one station, to the rest. A several grace belongs to the particular carriage of every place whereto we are called, which, if we want, the place may well want us. There was more praise of his obedience in ceasing to seek, than in seeking. He takes care, lest his father should take for him, that, whilst he should seem officious in the less, he might not neglect the great est. A blind obedience, m some cases, doth well ; but it doth far better, when it is led with the eyes of discretion ; other wise, we may more offend in pleasing, than in disobeying. Great is the benefit of a wise and religious attendant ; such a one puts us into those duties and actions which are most expe dient, and least thought of. If Saul had not had a discreet servant, he had returned but as wise as he came ; now he is drawn in to consult with the man of God, and hears more than he hoped for. Saul was now a sufficient journey from his father's house ; yet his religious servant, in this remoteness, takes knowledge of the place where the prophet dwells : and how honour ably doth he mention him to his master ! " Behold, in this city is a man of God, and he is an honourable man ; all that he saith cometh to pass." God's prophets are public persons ; as their function, so their notice concerns every man. There is no reason God should abate any of the respect due to his ministers under the gospel. St Paul's suit is both universal and everlasting : " I beseech you, brethren, know them that labour amongst you." The chief praise is to be able to give good advice ; the next is, to take it. Saul is easily induced to condescend. He, whose curiosity led him voluntarily at last to the witch of Endor, is now led at first, by good counsel, to the man of God : neither is his care in going, less commendable than his will to go. For, as a man that had been catechized not to go unto God empty- handed, he asks, " What shall we bring unto the man ? what have we ?" The case is well altered in our times. Every man thinks, what may I keep back? There is no gain so sweet, as of a robbed altar ; yet God's charge is no less under the gospel : " Let him that is taught, make his teacher partaker of all." As this faithful care of Saul was a just presage of success, more than he looked for, or could expect ; so the sacrilegious unthankfulness of many, bodes that ruin to their soul and estate, which they could not have grace to fear. He that knew the prophet's abode, knew also the honour of his place ; he could not but know that Samuel was a mixt person, the judge of Israel and the seer : yet both Saul and his servant purpose to present him with the fourth part of a shekel, to the value of about our fivepence. They had learned, that thankfulness was not to be measured of good men, by the weight, but by the will of the retributor. How much more will God accept the small of ferings of his weak servants, when he sees them proceed from great love ! The very maids of the city can give di rection to the prophet : they had listened after the holy affairs ; they had heard of the sacrifice, and could tell of the necessity of Samuel's presence. Those that live within the sunshine of religion, cannot but be somewhat coloured with those beams. Where there is practice and example of piety in the better sort, there will be a re flection of it upon the meanest. It is no small benefit to live in religious and holy places. We shall be much to blame, if all goodness fall beside us. Yea, so skilful were these damsels in the fashions of their public sacrifices, that they could instruct Saul and his servant unasked, how the people would not eat, till Samuel came to bless the sacrifice. This meeting was not more a sacrifice, than it was a feast. These two agree well. We have never so much cause to rejoice in feasting, as when we have duly served our God. The sacrifice 168 SAUL AND SAMUEL. [Book XII. was a feast to God, the other to men. The body may eat and drink with contentment, when the soul hath been first fed, and hath first feasted the Maker of both : " Go, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy drink with a merry heart ; for God now accept- eth thy works." The sacrifice was before consecrated, when it was offered to God ; but it was not consecrated to them, till Samuel blessed it : his blessing made that meat holy to the guests, which was for merly hallowed to God. All creatures were made good, and took holiness from him which gave them their being. Our sin brought that curse upon them, which, unless our prayers remove it, cleaves to them still, so as we receive them not with out a curse. We are not our own friends, except our prayers help to take that away which our sin hath brought, that so to the clean all may be clean. It is an unmannerly godlessness to take God's creatures with out the leave of their Maker; and well may God withhold his blessing from them which have not the grace to ask it. Those guests, which were so religious that they would not eat their sacrifice un blessed, might have blessed it themselves. Every man might pray, though every man might not sacrifice ; yet would they not either eat, or bless, while they looked for the presence of a prophet. Every Christian may sanctify his own meat ; but, where those are present that are peculiarly sanc tified to God, this service is fittest for them. It is commendable to teach children the practice of thanksgiving, but the best is ever most meet to bless our tables, and those especially whose office it is to offer our prayers to God. Little did Saul think, that his coming and his errand were so noted of God, as that it was fore-signified unto the prophet; and now, behold, Samuel is told a day before, of the man, the time, and the place of his meeting. The eye of God's providence is no less over all our actions, all our motions. We cannot go any whither without him ; he tells all our steps. Since it pleaseth God, therefore, to take notice of us, much more should we take notice of him, and walk with him, in whom we move. Saul came, besides his expectation, to the pro phet : he had no thought of any such pur pose, till his servant made this sudden mo tion unto him of visiting Samuel ; and yet God says to his prophet, " I will send thee a man out of the land of Benjamin." The overruling hand of the Almighty works us insensibly, and all our affairs, to his own secret determinations ; so as, while we think to do our own wills, we do his. Our own intentions we may know ; God's pur poses we know not : we must go the way that we are called, let him lead us to what end he pleaseth. It is our duty to resign ourselves and our ways to the disposition of God, and patiently and thankfully to wait the issue of his decrees. The same God, that fore-showed Saul to Samuel, now points to him : " See, this is the man," and commands the prophet to anoint him governor over Israel. He, that told of Saul before he came, knew before he came into the world, what a man, what a king, he would be ; yet he chooseth him out and enjoins his inunction. It is one of the greatest praises of God's wisdom, that he can turn the evil of men to his own glory. Advancement is not ever a sign of love, either to the man or to the place. It had been better for Saul, that his head had been ever dry. Some God raiseth up in judg ment, that they may fall the more uneasily ; there are no men so miserable as those that are great and evil. It seems that Samuel bore no great port in his outside, for that Saul, not discerning him either by his habit or attendants, comes to him, and asks him for the seer : yet was Samuel as yet the judge of Israel ; the sub stitution of his sons had not displaced him self. There is an affable familiarity that be cometh greatness. It is not good for eminent persons to stand always upon the height of their state ; but so to behave themselves, that as their sociable carriage may not breed con tempt, so their over-highness may not breed a servile fearfulness in their people. How kindly doth Samuel entertain and invite Saul : yet it was he only that should receive wrong by the future royalty of Saul! Who would not have looked, that aged Samuel should have emulated rather the glory of his young rival, and have looked churlishly upon the man that should rob him of his authority ? Yet now, as if he came on purpose to gratify him, he bids him to the feast, he honours him with the chief seat, he reserves a select morsel for him, he tells him ingenuously the news of his ensuing sovereignty : " On whom is set the desire of all Israel ? is it not upon thee, and thy father's house ?" Wise and holy men, as they are not ambitious of their own burden, so they are not unwilling to be eased, when God pleaseth to discharge them ; neither can they envy those whom God lifteth above their heads. They make an idol of honour, that are troubled with their own freedom, or grudge at the pro motion of others. Cont. V.] THE INAUGURATION OF SAUL. 169 Doubtless Saul was much amazed with this strange salutation, and news of the prophet : and how modestly doth he put it off, as that which was neither fit nor likely, disparaging his tribe, in respect of the rest of Israel ; his father's family, in respect of the tribe ; and himself, in respect of his father's family ! Neither did his humility stoop below the truth ; for, as Benjamin was the youngest son of Israel, so he was now by much the least tribe of Israel. They had not. yet recovered that uni versal "slaughter which they had received from the hands of their brethren,- whereby a tribe was almost lost to Israel : yet even out of the remainder of Benjamin doth God choose the man that shall command Israel ; out ofthe rubbish of Benjamin doth God raise the throne. That is not ever the best and fattest which God chooseth ; but that which God ehooseth is ever the fit test. The strength or weakness of means is neither spur nor bridle to the determinate choices of God; yea, rather, he holds it the greatest proof of his freedom and om nipotence, to advance the unlikeliest. It was no hollow and feigned excuse that Saul makes, to put off that which he would fain enjoy, and to cause honour to follow him the more eagerly : it was the sincere truth of his humility, that so dejected him under the hand of God's prophet. Fair beginnings are no sound proof of our proceedings and ending well. How often hath a bashful childhood ended in an impudency of youth ; a strict entrance, in licentiousness; early forwardness, in atheism ! There might be a civil meekness in Saul ; true grace there was not in him. They that be good, bear more fruit in their age. Saul had but fivepence in his purse to give the prophet. The prophet, after much good cheer, gives him the kingdom : he bestows the oil of royal consecration on his head, the kisses of homage upon his face, and sends him away rich in thoughts and expectation. And now, lest his asto nishment should end in distrust, he settles his assurance, by forewarnings of those events which he should find in his way : he tells him whom he shall meet, what they shall say, how himself shall be affect ed. That all these, and himself, might be so many witnesses of his following corona tion, every word confirmed him. For well might he think, He that can foretell me the motions and words of others, cannot fail in mine ; especially when (as Samuel had prophesied to him) he found himself to prophesy : his prophesying did enough fore tell his kingdom. No sooner did Samuel turn his back from Saul, but God gave him another heart, lifting up his thoughts and disposition to the pitch of a king. The calling of God never leaves a man un changed : neither did God ever employ any man in his service, whom he did not en able to the work he set him ; especially those whom he raiseth up to the supply of his own place, and the representation of himself. It is no marvel if princes excel the vulgar in gifts, no less than in dignity. Their crowns and their hearts are both in one and the same hand. If God did not add to their powers, as well as their honours, there would be no equality. CONTEMPLATION V THE INAUGURATION OF SAUL. God hath secretly destined Saul to the kingdom. It could not content Israel that Samuel knew this ; the lots must so decide the choice as if it had not been predeter mined : that God, which is ever constant to his own decrees, makes the lots to find him out whom Samuel had anointed. If once we have notice of the will of God, we may be confident of the issue. There is no chance to the Almighty : even casual things are no less necessary in their first cause, than the natural. So far did Saul trust the prediction and oil of Samuel, that he hides him among the stuff. He knew where the lots would light before they were cast ; this was but a modest declination of that honour which he saw must come : his very withdrawing showed some expecta tion, why else should he have hid himself, rather than the other Israelites ? Yet could he not hope his subducing himself could dis appoint the purpose of God: he well knew, that he which found out and designed his name amongst the thousands of Israel, would easily find out his person in a tent. When once we know God's decree, in vain shall we strive against it : before we know it, it is indifferent for us to work to the likeliest. I cannot blame Saul for hiding himself from a kingdom, especially of Israel. Ho nour is heavy, when it comes upon the best terms : how should it be otherwise, when all men's cares are cast upon one ; but most of all in a troubled estate ? No man can put to sea without danger ; but he that launcheth forth in a tempest, can expect nothing but the hardest event : such was the condition of Israel. Their old enemies the Philistines were stilled with that fear ful thunder of God, as finding what it was 170 THE INAUGURATION OF SAUL. [Book XII. to war against the Almighty. There were adversaries enough besides in their borders : it was but a hollow truce that was betwixt Israel and their heathenish neighbours, and Nahash was now at their gates. Well did Saul know the difference between a peace ful government and the perilous and wea risome tumults of war. The quietest throne is full of cares ; but the perplexed, of dan gers. Cares and dangers drove Saul into this corner, to hide his head from a crown : these made him choose rather to lie ob scurely among the baggage of his tent, than to sit gloriously in the throne of state. This hiding could do nothing but show, that he both suspected lest he should be chosen, and desired he should not be chosen. That God, from whom the hills and the rocks could not conceal him, brings him forth to the light, so much more longed for, as he was more unwilling to be seen, and more applauded, as he was more longed for. Now then, when Saul is drawn forth in the midst of the eager expectation of Israel, modesty and goodliness showed themselves in his face. The crowd cannot hide him, whom the stuff had hid : as if he had been made to be seen, he overlooks all Israel in height of stature, for presage of the emi nence of his state : " From the shoulders upwards, was he higher than any of the people." Israel sees their lots are fallen upon a noted man, one whose person showed he was born to be a king : and now all the people shout for joy ; they have their longing, and applaud their own happiness, and their king's honour. How easy is it for us to mistake our own estates ; to rejoice in that which we shall find the just cause of our humiliation ! The end of a thing is better than the beginning. The safest way is to reserve our joy till we have good proof of the worthiness and fitness of the object. What are we the better for having a bless ing, if we know not how to use it ? The office and observance of a king was un couth to Israel : Samuel therefore informs the people of their mutual duties, and writes them in a book, and lays it up be fore the Lord ; otherwise, novelty might have been a warrant for their ignorance, and ignorance for neglect. There are re ciprocal respects of princes and people, which, if they be not observed, government languisheth into confusion.: these Samuel faithfully teacheth them. Though he may not be their judge, yet he will be their prophet ; he will instruct, if he may not rule ; yea, he will instruct him that shall rule. There is no king absolute, but he that is the King of all gods. Earthly mo narchs must walk by a rule, which, if they transgress, they shall be accountable to him that is higher than the highest, who hath deputed them. Not out of care of civility, so much as conscience, must every Samuel labour to . keep even terms betwixt kings and subjects, prescribing just moderation to the one ; to the other, obedience and loyalty, which, whoever endeavours to trouble, is none of the friends of God or his church. The most and best applaud their new king ; some wicked ones despised him, and said, " How shall he save us?" It was not the might of his parents, the goodliness of his person, the privilege of his lot, the fame of his prophesying, the panegyric of Samuel, that could shield him from con tempt, or win him the hearts of all. There was never yet any man, to whom some took not exception. It is not possible either to please or displease all men ; while some men are in love with vice, as deeply as others with virtue, and some as ill dislike virtue, if not for itself, yet for contradiction. They well saw Saul chose not himself; they saw him worthy to have been chosen, if the election should have been carried by voices, and those voices by their eyes ; they saw him unwilling to hold, or yield, when he was chosen ; yet they will envy him. What fault could they find in him whom God had chosen ? His parentage was equal, his person above them, his inward parts more above them than the outward. Mai- contents will rather devise than want causes of flying out; and rather than fail, the universal approbation of others is ground enough of their dislike. It is a vain ambi tion of those that would be loved of all. The Spirit of God, when he enjoins us peace, withal he adds, " If it be possible;" and favour is more than peace. A man's comfort must be in himself, the conscience of deserving well. The neighbouring Ammonites could not but have heard of God's fearful vengeance upon the Philistines, and yet they will be taking up the quarrel against Israel. Nahash comes up against Jabesh-Gilead. Nothing but grace can teach us to make use of others' judgments. Wicked men are not moved with aught that falls beside them: they trust nothing but their own smart. What fearful judgments doth God execute every day ! Resolute sinners take no notice of them, and are grown so peremptory, as if God had never showed dislike of their ways. The Gileadites were not more base than Nahash the Ammonite was cruel. The Cont. VI.] SAMUEL'S CONTESTATION. 171 Gileadites would buy their peace with ser vility ; Nahash would sell them a servile peace for their right eyes. Jephthah the Gileadite did yet stick in the stomach of Ammon ; and now they think their revenge cannot be too bloody. It is a wonder that he which would offer so merciless a con dition to Israel, would yield to the motion of any delay ; he meant nothing but shame and death to the Israelites, yet he con descends to a seven days' respite : perhaps his confidence made him thus careless. Howsoever, it was the restraint of God that gave this breath to Israel, and this opportunity to Saul's courage and victory. The enemies of God's church cannot be so malicious as they would, cannot approve themselves so malicious as they are. God so holds them in sometimes, that a stander- by would think them favourable. The news of Gilead's distress hath soon filled and afflicted Israel ; the people think of no remedy but their pity and tears. Evils are easily grieved for ; not easily redressed : only Saul is more stirred with indignation than sorrow : that God, which put into him a spirit of prophecy, now puts into him a spirit of fortitude. He was before ap pointed to the throne, not settled in the throne ; he followed the beasts in the field, when he should have commanded men. Now, as one that would be a king no less by merit than election, he takes upon him, and performs the rescue of Gilead; he assembles Israel, he leads them, he raiseth the siege, breaks the troops, cuts the throats of the Ammonites. When God hath any exploit to perform, he raiseth up the heart of some chosen instrument with heroical motions for the achievement. When all hearts are cold and dead, it is a sign of in tended destruction. This day hath made Saul a complete king ; and now the thankfid Israelites begin to inquire after those discontented muti neers, which had refused allegiance unto so worthy a commander : " Bring those men, that we may slay them." This se dition had deserved death, though Saul had been foiled at Gilead ; but now his happy victory whets the people much more to a desire of this just execution. Saul, to whom the injury was done, hinders the revenge : " There shall no man die this day, for to day the Lord hath saved Israel ;" that his fortitude might not go beyond his mercy. How noble were these beginnings of Saul ! His prophecy showed him miraculously wise, his battle and victory no less valiant, his pardon of his rebels as merciful. There was not more power showed in overcoming the Ammonites than in overcoming himself and the impotent malice of these mutinous Israelites. Now Israel sees they have a king, that can both shed blood and spare it ; that can shed the Ammonites' blood, and spare theirs. His mercy wins those hearts whom his valour could not. As in God, so in his deputies, mercy and justice should be inseparable : wheresoever these two go asunder, government follows them into distraction, and ends in ruin. If it had been a wrong offered to Samuel, the for bearance of the revenge had not been so commendable, although, upon the day of so happy a deliverance, perhaps it had not been seasonable. A man hath reason to be most bold with himself. It is no praise of mercy, since it is a fault in justice, to remit another man's satisfaction ; his own he may. CONTEMPLATION VI. — SAMUEL S CONTESTATION. Every one can be a friend to him that prospereth. By this victory hath Saul as well conquered the obstinacy of his own people. Now there is no Israelite that rejoiceth not in Saul's kingdom. No sooner have they done objecting to Saul, than Samuel begins to expostulate with them. The same day wherein they began to be pleased, God shows himself angry. All the passages of their proceedings offended him ; he deferred to let them know it, till now that the kingdom was settled, and their hearts lifted up. Now doth God cool their courage and joy, with a back-reckoning for their forwardness. God will not let his people run away with the arrearages of their sins ; but, when they least think of it, calls them to an account. All this while was God angry with their rejection of Samuel ; yet, as if there had been nothing but peace, he gives them a victory over their enemies ; he gives way to their joy in their election ; now he lets them know, that after their peace-offerings he hath a quarrel with them. God may be angry enough with us, while we outwardly pros per. It is the wisdom of God to take his best advantages : he suffers us to go on, till we should come to enjoy the fruit of our sin, till we seem past the danger either of conscience or punishment ; then, even when we begin to be past the feeling of our sin, we shall begin to feel his displeasure for our sins : this is only where he loves, where he would both forgive and reclaim. He hath now to do with his Israel. But where he means utter vengeance, he lets 172 SAMUEL'S CONTESTATION. [Book XIL men harden themselves to a reprobate senselessness, and make up their own mea sure without contradiction, as purposing to reckon with them but once for ever. Samuel had dissuaded them before ; he reproves them not until now. If he had thus bent himself against them, ere the settling of the election, he had troubled Israel in that which God took occasion by their sin to establish ; his opposition would have savoured of respects to himself, whom the wrong of this innovation chiefly con cerned. Now therefore, when they are sure of their king, and their king of them ; when he hath set even terms betwixt them mu tually, he lets them see how they were at odds with God. We must ever dislike sins ; we may not ever show it. Discretion in the choice of seasons for reproving is no less commendable and necessary, than zeal and faithfulness in reproving. Good phy sicians use not to evacuate the body in ex tremities of heat or cold ; wise mariners do not hoist sails in every wind. First doth Samuel begin to clear his own innocence, ere he dare charge them with their sin. He that will cast a stone at an offender, must be free himself, otherwise he condemns and executes himself in an other person. The conscience stops the mouth of the guilty man, and chokes him with that sin which lies in his own breast, and, having not come forth by a penitent confession, cannot find the way out in a reproof, or, if he do reprove, he doth more shame himself, than reform another. He, that was the judge of Israel, would not now judge himself, but would be judged by Is rael: " Whose ox have I taken? whose ass have I taken? or to whom have I done wrong?" No doubt Samuel found himself guilty before God of many private infir mities ; but for his public carriage he ap peals to men. A man's heart can best judge of himself; others can best judge of ' his actions. As another man's conscience and approbation cannot bear us out before God, so cannot our own before men ; for ofttimes that action is censured by the be holders as wrongful, wherein we applaud our own justice. Happy is that man that can be acquitted by himself in private, in public by others, by God in both. Stan- ders-by may see more. It is very safe for a man to look into himself by others' eyes. In vain shall a man's heart absolve him that is condemned by his actions. It was not so much the trial of his car riage that Samuel appealed for, as his justification. Not for his own comfort, so much as their conviction. His inno cence hath not done him service enough, unless it shame them, and make them confess themselves faulty. In so many years, wherein Samuel judged Israel, it cannot be but many thousand causes passed his hands, wherein both parties could not possibly be pleased ; yet so clear doth he find" his heart and hands, that he dare make the grieved part judges of his judg ment. A good conscience will make a man undauntedly confident, and ' dare put him upon any trial ; where his own heart strikes him not, it bids him challenge all the world, and take up all comers. How happy a thing is it for man to be his own friend and patron ! He needs not to fear foreign broils, that is at peace at home'. Contrarily, he that hath a false and foul heart, lies at every man's mercy, lives slavishly, and is fain to daub up a rotten peace with the basest conditions. Truth is not , afraid of any light ; and therefore dare suffer her wares to be carried from a dim shop-board unto the streekdoor. Per fect gold will be but the purer with trying; whereas falsehood, being a work of dark ness, loves darkness, and therefore seeks where it may work closest. This very appellation cleared Samuel; but the people's attestation cleared him more. Innocency and uprightness be come every man well, but most public persons, who shall be else obnoxious to every offender. The throne and the pul pit, of all places, call for holiness, no more for example of good, than for liberty of controlling evil. All magistrates swear to do that, which Samuel protesteth he hath done ; if their oath were so verified, as Samuel's protestation, it were a shame for the state not to be happy. The sins of our teachers are the teachers of sin ; the sins of governors do both command and countenance evil. This very acquitting '. of Samuel was the accusation of them- 't selves ; for how could it be but faulty to . cast off a faultless governor ? If he had 'j- not taken away an ox or an ass from them, " why do they take away his authority? They could not have thus cleared Saul at the end of his reign. It was just with God, since they were weary of a just ruler, to punish them with an unjust. He that appealed to them for his own uprightness, durst not appeal to them for their own wickedness, but appeals to hea ven from them. Men are commonly flat terers of their own cases : it must be a strong evidence tbat will make a sinner convicted in himself. Nature hath so many shifts to cozen itself in this spiritual Cont. VII.] SAUL'S SACRIFICE. 173 verdict, that unless it be taken in the man ner, it will hardly yield to a truth ; either she will deny the fact, or the fault, or the measure : and now, in this case, they might seem to have some fair pretences ; for though Samuel was righteous, yet his sons were corrupt. To cut off all ex cuses, therefore, Samuel appeals to- God, the highest judge, for his sentence of their sin, and dares trust to a miraculous con viction. It was now their wheat-harvest ; the hot and dry air of that climate did not wont to afford, in that season, so much moist vapour as might raise a cloud, either for rain or thunder. He that knew God could and would do both these without the help of second causes, puts the trial upon this issue. Had not Samuel before consulted with his Maker, and received warrant for his act, it had been presump tion and tempting of God, which was now a noble improvement of faith. Rather than Israel shall go clear away with a sin, God will accuse and arraign them from heaven. No sooner hath Samuel's voice ceased, than God's voice begins. Every crack of thunder spake judgment against the rebellious Israelites, and every drop of rain was a witness of their sin ; and now they found they had displeased Him which ruleth in the heaven, by rejecting the man that ruled for him on earth. The thundering voice of God, that had lately in their sight confounded the Philistines, they now understood to speak fearful things against them. No marvel if they now fell upon their knees, not to Saul, whom they had chosen, but to Samuel, who, being thus cast off by them, is thus countenanced in heaven. CONTEMPLATION VII. — OF SAUL S SACRIFICE. God never meant the kingdom should either stay long in the tribe of Benjamin, or remove suddenly from the person of Saul. Many years did Saul reign over Israel : yet God computes him but two years a king, That is not accounted of God to be done, which is not lawfully done. When God, which chose Saul, re jected him, he was no more a king, but a tyrant. Israel obeyed him still ; but God makes no reckoning of him as his deputy, but as an usurper. Saul was of good years when he was advanced to the kingdom. His son Jona than, the first year of his father's reign, could lead a thousand Israelites into the field, and give a foil to the Philistines; and now Israel could not think themselves less happy in their prince than in their king. Jonathan is the heir of his father's victory, as well as of his valour and his estate. The Philistines were quiet, after those first thunderclaps, all the time of Samuel's go vernment ; now they begin to stir under Saul. How utterly is Israel disappointed in their hopes ! That security and protection which they promised themselves in the name of a king, they found in a prophet, failed of in a warrior. They were more safe under the mantle than under arms. Both enmity and safeguard are from heaven. Goodness hath been ever a stronger guard than valour. It is the surest policy always to have peace with God. We find, by the spoils, that the Phili stines had some battles with Israel which are not recorded. After the thunder had scared them into a peace, and restitution of all the bordering cities, from Ekron to Gath, they had taken new heart, and so enslaved Israel, that they had neither wea pon nor smith left among them ; yet, even in this miserable nakedness of Israel, have they both fought and overcome. Now might you have seen the unarmed Israel ites marching with their slings and plough- staves, and hooks and forks, and other instruments of their husbandry, against a mighty and well-furnished enemy, and re turning laden both with arms and victory. No armour is of proof against the Almighty; neither is he unweaponed, that carries the revenge of God. There is the same dis advantage in our spiritual conflicts : we are turned naked to principalities and powers. Whilst we go under the conduct of the Prince of our peace, we cannot but be bold and victorious. Vain men think to overpower God with munition and multitude : the Philistines are not any way more strong than in conceit. Thirty thousand chariots, six thousand horsemen, footmen like the sand for num ber, make them scorn Israel no less than Israel fears them. When I see the mira culous success which had blessed the Is raelites in all their late conflicts with these very Philistines, with the Ammonites, I cannot but wonder how they could fear. They, which in the time of their sin found God to raise such trophies over their ene mies, run now into caves, and rocks, and pits, to hide them from the faces of men, when they found God reconciled, and them selves penitent. No Israelite but hath some cowardly blood in him. If we had no fear, faith would have no mastery; yet these 174 SAUL'S SACRIFICE. [Book XIL fearful Israelites shall cut the throats of these confident Philistines. Doubt and resolution are not measures of our success : a presumptuous confidence goes commonly bleeding home, when an humble fear re turns in triumph. Fear drives those Israel ites which dare show their heads out of the caves unto Saul, and makes them cling unto their new king. How troublesome were the beginnings of Saul's honour! Surely, if that man had not exceeded Israel no less in courage than in stature, he had now hid himself in a cave, who before hid himself in the stuff. But now, though the Israelites ran away from him, yet he ran not away from them. It was not any doubt of Saul's valour that put his people to their heels ; it was the absence of Sa muel. If the prophet had come up, Israel would never have run away from their king. While they had a Samuel alone, they were never well till they had a Saul ; now they have a Saul, they are as far from contentment, because they want a Samuel: unless both joined together, they think there can be no safety. Where the tempo ral and spiritual state combine not together, there can follow nothing but distraction in the people. The prophets receive and de liver the will of God ; kings execute it. The prophets are directed by God ; the people are directed by their kings. Where men do not see God in his ordinances, their hearts cannot but fail them, both in their respects to their superiors, and their courage in themselves. Piety is the mother of perfect subjection. As all authority is derived from heaven, so it is thence estab lished. Those governors that would com- i mand the hearts of men, must show them 1 God in their faces. No Israelite can think himself safe with out a prophet. Saul had given them good proof of his fortitude, in his late victory over the Ammonites ; but then proclama tion was made before the fight, through all the country, that every man should come up after Saul and Samuel. If Samuel had not been with Saul, they would rather have ventured the loss of their oxen, than the hazard of themselves. How much less. should we presume of any safety in our spiritual combats, when we have not a prophet to lead us! It is all one, saving that it savours of more contempt, not to have God's seers, and not to use them. He can be no true Israelite, that is not distressed with the want of a Samuel. As one that had learned to begin his rule in obedience, Saul stays seven days in Gilgal, according to the prophet's direction ; and still he looks long for Samuel, which had promised his presence -. six days he expects, and part of the seventh ; yet Sa muel is not come. The Philistines, draw near; the Israelites run away; Samuel comes not ; they must fight ; God must be supplicated : what should Saul do ? Ra ther than God should want a sacrifice, and the people satisfaction, Saul will command that which he knew Samuel would, if he were present, both command and execute. It is not possible, thinks he, that God should be displeased with a sacrifice : he cannot but be displeased with indevotion. Why do the people run from me, but for want of means to make God sure ? What would Samuel rather wish, than that we should be godly? The act shall be the same ; the only difference shall be in the person. If Samuel be wanting to us, we will not be wanting to God ; it is but an holy prevention to be devout unbidden. Upon this conceit he commands a sacrifice. Saul's sins make no great show, yet are they still heinously taken; the impiety of them was more hidden and inward from all eyes but God's. If Saul were among the prophets before, will he now be among the priests ? Can there be any devotion in dis obedience ! O vain man ! what can it avail thee to sacrifice to God against God? Hy pocrites rest only in formalities ; if the out ward act be done, it sufficeth them, though the ground be distrust, the manner unre verence, the carriage presumption. What, then, should Saul have done? Upon the trust of God and Samuel, he should have staid out the last hour, and have secretly sacrificed himself and his prayers unto that God which loves obe dience above sacrifice, Our faith is most commendable in the last act : it is no praise to hold out until we be hard driven. Then, when we are forsaken of means, to live by faith in our God, is worthy of a crown. God will have no worship of our devising : we may only do what he bids us, not bid what he commands not. Never did any true piety arise out of the corrupt puddle of man's brain : if it flow not from heaven, it is odious to heaven. What was it that did thus taint the valour of Saul with this weakness, but distrust ? He saw some Is raelites go ; he thought all would go : he saw the Philistines come ; he saw Samuel came not : his diffidence was guilty of his misdevotion. There is no sin that hath not its ground from unbelief; this, as it was the first infection of our pure nature, so is it the true source of all corruption : man could not sin if he distrusted not. Cont VIII.] JONATHAN'S VICTORY. The sacrifice is no sooner ended, than Samuel is come. And why came he no sooner ? He could not be a seer, and not know how much he was looked for ; how troublesome and dangerous his absence must needs be : he that could tell Saul that he should prophesy, could tell him that he would sacrifice ; yet he purposely forbears to come, for the trial of him that must be the champion of God. Samuel durst not have done thus, but by direction from his Master. It is the ordinary course of God to prove us by delays, and to drive to exi gents, that we may show what we are. He that anointed Saul, might lawfully from God control him. There must be discretion, there may not be partiality, in our censures of the greatest. God makes difference of sins, none of persons. If we make dif ference of sins according to persons, we are unfaithful both to God and man. Scarce is Saul warm in his kingdom, when he hath even lost it. Samuel's first words, after the inauguration, are of Saul's rejection, and the choice and establishment of his succes sor. It was ever God's purpose to settle the kingdom in Judah. He, that took oc casion by the people's sin to raise up Saul in Benjamin, takes occasion by Saul's sin to establish the crown upon David. In hu man probability the kingdom was fixed upon Saul and his more worthy son. In God's decree it did but pass through the hands of Benjamin to Judah. Besides trouble, how fickle are these earthly glories ! Saul doubt less looked upon Jonathan as the inheritor of his crown ; and behold, ere his peace able possession, he hath lost it from him self. Our sins strip us not of our hopes in heaven only, but of our earthly blessings. The way to entail a comfortable prosperity upon our seed after us, is our conscionable V obedience to God. contemplation viii jonathan s victory and saul's oath. It is no wonder if Saul's courage was much cooled with the heavy news of his rejection. After this he stays under the pomegranate-tree in Gibeah: he stirs not towards the garrison of the Philistines. As hope is the mother of fortitude, so nothing doth more breed cowardliness than despair. Every thing dismays that heart which God hath put out of protection. Worthy Jona than, which sprung from Saul, as some sweet imp grows out of a crab-stock, is therefore full of valour, because full of faith. He well knew, that he should have nothing 175 but discouragements from his father's fear ; as rather choosing therefore to avoid all the blocks that might lie in the way, than to leap over them, he departs secretly, without the dismission of his father, or notice ofthe people ; only God leads him, and his armour- bearer follows him. O admirable faith of Jonathan, whom neither the steepness of rocks, nor the multitude of enemies, can dissuade from so unlikely an assault ! Is it possible, that two men, whereof one was weaponless, should dare to think of en countering so many thousands ? O divine power of faith, that in all difficulties and attempts makes a man more than men, and regards no more armies of men than swarms of flies ! There is no restraint to the Lord, saith he, to save with many, or by few. It was not so great news that Saul should be amongst the prophets, as that such a word should come from the son of Saul. If his father had but so much divinity, he had not sacrificed. The strength of his God is the ground of his strength in God. The question is not, what Jonathan can do, but what God can do, whose power is not in the means, but in himself. That man's faith is well underlaid, that upholds itself by the omnipotency of God. Thus the father of the faithful built his assurance upon the power of the Almighty. But many things God can do, which he will not do. How knowest thou, Jonathan, that God will be as forward, as he is able, to give thee victory? For this, saith he, I have a watch-word from God out ofthe mouths of the Philistines : " If they say, Come up, we will go up : for God hath delivered them into our hands. If they say, Tarry till we come to you, we will stand still." Jonathan was too wise to trust unto a casual presage. There might be some far fetched conjectures of the event from the word. We will come to you, was a threat of resolution : Come you to us, was a challenge of fear ; or, perhaps, Come up to us, was a word of insultation from them that trusted to the inaccessibleness of the place, and multitudes of men. Insulta tion is from pride; pride argued a fall : but ; faith hath nothing to do with probabilities, as that which acknowledgeth no argument but demonstration. If there had not been an instinct from God of this assured warrant of success, Jonathan had presumed instead of believing, and had tempted that God whom he professed to glorify by his trust. There can be no faith where there is no promise ; and where there is a promise, there can be no presumption. Words are 176 JONATHAN'S VICTORY- [Book XII. voluntary; the tongues of the Philistines were as free to say, Tarry, as Come. That God, in whom our very tongues move, overruled them so, as now they shall speak that word which will cut their own throats. They knew no more harm in Come, than Tarry ; both were alike safe for the sound, for the sense : but he that put a significa tion of their slaughter in the one, not in the other, did put that word into their mouths, whereby they might invite their own destruction. The disposition of our words is from the providence of the Al mighty. God and our hearts have not al ways the same meaning in our speeches. In those words which we speak at random, or out of affectation, God hath a further drift of his own glory, and perhaps our judgment. If wicked men say, Our tongues are our own, they could not say so but from Him whom they defy in saying so, and who makes their tongue their execu tioner. No sooner doth Jonathan hear this in vitation, than he answers it. He, whose hands had learned never to fail his heart, puts himself upon his hands and knees to climb up into this danger : the exploit was not more difficult than the way ; the pain of the passage was equal to the peril of the enterprise, that his faith might equally triumph over both. He doth not say, How shall I get up ? much less, Which way shall I get down again? But, as if the ground were level, and the action danger- less, he puts himself into the view of the Philistines. Faith is never so glorious, as when it hath most opposition, and will not see it. Reason looks ever to the means, faith to the end ; and, instead of consult ing how to effect, Tesolves what shall be ef fected. The way to heaven is more steep, more painful. O God, how perilous a pas sage hast thou appointed for thy labouring pilgrims ! If difficulties will discourage us, we shall but climb to fall. When we are lifting up our foot to the last step, there are the Philistines of death, of temptations, to grapple with. Give us but faith, and turn us loose to the spite either of earth or hell. Jonathan is now on the top of the hill ; and now, as if he had an army at his heels, he flies upon the host of the Philistines : his hands, that might have been weary with climbing, are immediately commanded to fight, and deal as many death-blows to the amazed enemy. He needs not walk far for this execution; himself and his armour- bearer, in one half acre's space, have slain twenty Philistines. It is not long since Jonathan smote their garrison in the hill of Geba: perhaps from that time his name and presence carried terror in it; but sure, if the Philistines had not seen and felt more than a man in the face and hands of Jona than, they had not so easily grovelled in death. The blows and shrieks cannot but affect the next, who, with a ghastly noise, run away from death, and affright their fellows no less than themselves are affright ed. The clamour and fear run on, like fire in a train, to the very foremost ranks : every man would fly, and thinks there is so much more cause of flight, for that his ears apprehend all, his eyes nothing. Each man thinks his fellow stands in his way : and therefore, instead of turning upon him which was the cause of their flight, they bend their swords upon those whom they imagine to be the hinderers of their flight : and now a miraculous astonishment hath made the Philistines Jonathan's champions and executioners. He follows and kills those which helped to kill others ; and the more he killed, the more they feared and fled, and the more they killed each other in the flight: and, that fear itself might prevent Jonathan in killing them, the earth itself trembles under them. Thus doth God at once strike them with his own hand, with Jonathan's, with theirs, and makes them run away from life, while they would fly from an enemy. Where the Al mighty purposes destruction to any people, he needs not call in foreign powers ; he needs not any hands or weapons but their own ; he can make vast bodies die by no other death than their, own weight. We cannot be sure to be friends among our selves, while God is our enemy. The Philistines fly fast, but the news of their flight overruns them, even unto Saul's pomegranate-tree. The watchmen discern afar off a flight and execution. Search is made ; Jonathan is found missing : Saul will consult with the ark. Hypocrites, while they have leisure, will perhaps be holy; for some fits of devotion they cannot be bettered. But when the tumult increased, Saul's piety decreases. It is now no sea son to talk with a priest : withdraw thine hand, Ahaiah ; the ephod must give place to arms ; it is more time to fight, than to pray: what needs he God's guidance, . when he sees his way before him ? He, that before would needs sacrifice ere he fought, will now, in the other extreme, . fight in a wilful indevotion. Worldly minds regard holy duties no further than may stand with their own carnal purposes : very easy occasions shall interrupt them in their Cont. VIIL] JONATHAN'S VICTORY. 177 religious intentions ; like unto children, which, if a bird do but fly in their way, cast their eye from their book. But if Saul serve not God in one kind, he will serve him in another ; if he honour him not by attending on the ark, he will honour him by a vow : his negligence in the one is recompensed with his zeal in the other. All Israel is adjured not to eat any food until the evening. Hypocrisy is ever masked with a blind and thankless zeal. To wait upon the ark, and to consult with God's priest, in all cases of importance, Was a direct commandment of God ; to eat no food in the pursuit of their enemies, was not commanded: Saul leaves that which he was bidden, and does that which he was not required. To eat no food all day was more difficult than to attend an hour upon the ark : the voluntary services of hypocrites are many times more painful than the duties enjoined by God. In what awe did all Israel stand of the oath, even of Saul ! It was not their own vow, but Saul's for them ; yet, coming in to the wood, where they saw the honey dropping, and found the meat as ready as their appetite, they dare not touch that sustenance, and will rather endure famine and fainting, than an indiscreet curse. Doubtless, God had brought those bees thither, on purpose to try the constancy of Israel. Israel could not but think that which Jonathan said, that the vow was un advised and injurious ; yet they will rather die than violate it. How sacred should we hold the obligation of our own vows, in things just and expedient, when the bond of another's rash vow is thus indissoluble ! There was a double mischief followed upon Saul's oath — an abatement of the victory, and eating with the blood : for, on the one side, the people were so faint, that they were more likely to die than kill ; they could neither run nor strike in this empti ness : neither hands nor feet can do their office, when the stomach is neglected. On the other, an unmeet forbearance causes a ravenous repast. Hunger knows neither choice, nor order, nor measure : the one of these was a wrong to Israel : the other was a wrong done by Israel to God ; Saul's zeal was guilty of both. A rash vow is seldom ever free from inconvenience. The heart that hath unnecessarily entangled it self, draws mischief either upon itself or others. Jonathan was ignorant of his father's ad juration ; he knew no reason why he should not refresh himself, in so profitable a ser vice, with a little taste of honey upon his spear : full well had he deserved this un. sought dainty. And now, behold, his honey is turned into gall : if it were sweet in the mouth, it was bitter in the soul ; if the eyes of his body were enlightened, the light of God's countenance was clouded by this act. After he heard of the oath, he pleads justly against it, the loss of so fair an opportunity of revenge, and the trouble of Israel ; yet neither his reasons against the oath, nor his ignorance of the oath, can excuse him fVom a sin of ignorance in violating that which first he knew not, and then knew unreasonable. Now, Saul's lei sure would, serve him to ask counsel of God : as before Saul would not inquire, so now God will not answer. Well might Saul have found sins enough of his own, whereto to impute this silence. He hath grace enough to know that God was offend ed, and to guess at the cause of his offence. Sooner will a hypocrite find out another man's sin than his own ; and now he swears more rashly to punish with death the breach of that which he had sworn rashly. The lots were cast, and Saul prays for the deci sion: Jonathan is taken. Even the prayers of wicked men are sometimes heard, al though in justice, not in mercy. Saul him self was punished not a little in the fall of this lot upon Jonathan. Surely Saul sinned more in making this vow, than Jonathan in breaking it unwittingly ; and now the father smarts for the rashness of his double vow, by the unjust sentence of death upon so worthy a son. God had never singled out Jonathan by his lot, if he had not been displeased with his act. Vows rashly made, may not be rashly broken. If the thing we have vowed be not evil in itself, or in the effect, we cannot violate it without evil. Ignorance cannot acquit, if it can abate our sin. It is like, if Jonathan had heard his father's adjuration, he had not transgressed; his absence at the time of that oath can not excuse him from displeasure. What shall become of those, which may know the charge of their heavenly Father, and will not ? which do know his charge, and will not keep it ? Affectation of ignorance, and willing disobedience, are desperate. Death was too hard a censure for such an unknown offence. The cruel piety of Saul will revenge the breach of his own charge, so as he would be loath God should avenge on himself the breach of his divine command. If Jonathan had not found better friends than his father, so noble a victory had been recompensed with death. He, that saved Israel from the Philistines, is saved by Israel from the hand of his M 178 SAUL AND AGAG. [Book XIII. father. Saul hath sworn Jonathan's death ; the people, contrarily, swear his preserva tion : his kingdom was not so absolute, that he could run away with so unmerciful a justice ; their oath, that savoured of dis obedience, prevailed against his oath, that savoured too strong of cruelty. Neither doubt I but Saul was secretly not displeased with this loving resistance ; so long as his heart was not false to his oath, he could not be sorry that Jonathan should live. BOOK XIII. CONTEMPLATION I. SAUL AND AGAG. God holds it no derogation from his mercy to bear a quarrel long, where he hates. He, whose anger to the vessels of wrath is everlasting, even in temporal judgment revengeth late. The sins of his own child ren are no sooner done, and repented of, than forgotten ; but the malicious sins of his enemies stick fast in an infinite displea sure. " I remember what Amalek did to Israel, how they laid wait for them by the way, as they came up from Egypt." Alas, Lord ! (might Amalek say) they were our forefathers ; we never knew their faces, no, nor their names ; the fact was so far from our consent, that it is almost past the memory of our histories. It is not in the power of time to raze out any of the arrear ages of God. We may lay up wrath for our posterity. Happy is that child whose progenitors are in heaven ; he is left an inheritor of blessing, together with estate : whereas wicked ancestors lose the thank of a rich patrimony, by the curse that at tends it. He that thinks, because punish ment is deferred, that God hath forgiven or forgot his offence, is unacquainted with justice, and knows not that time makes no difference in eternity. The Amalekites were wicked idolaters, and therefore could not want many pre sent sins, which deserved their extirpation. , That God, which had taken notice of all their offences, picks out this one noted sin of their forefathers for revenge -. amongst all their indignities, this shall bear the name of their judgment; as in legal proceedings with malefactors, one indictment found gives the style of their condemnation. In the lives of those which are notoriously wicked, God cannot look beside a sin ; yet when he draws to an execution, he fastens his sentence upon one evil, as prin cipal, others as accessories, so as, at the last, one sin, which perhaps we make no account of, shall pay for all. The paganish idolatries of the Amalekites could not but be greater sins to God, than their hard measure to Israel ; yet God sets this upon the file, while the rest are not recorded : their superstitions might be of ignorance ; this sin was of malice. Mali cious wickednesses, of all others, as they are in greatest opposition to the goodness and mercy of God, shall be sure ofthe pay ment of greatest vengeance. The detestation of God may be measured by his revenge : " Slay both man and woman, both infant and suckling, both ox and sheep, camel and ass :" not themselves only, but every thing that drew life, either from them, or for their use, must die. When the God of mercy speaks such bloody words, the pro vocation must needs be vehement. Sins of infirmity do but mutter ; spiteful sins cry loud for judgment in the ears of God. Pre pensed malice, in courts of human justice, aggravates the murder, and sharpens the sentence of death. What, then, was this sin of Amalek, that is called unto this late reckoning? what, but their envious and unprovoked onsets upon the back of Israel : this was it that God took so to heart, as that he not only i remembers it now by Samuel, but he bids Israel ever to remember it, by Moses : " Remember how Amalek met thee by the way, and smote the hindmost of you, all that were feeble behind thee, when thou wast faint and weary." Besides this, did Amalek meet Israel in a pitched battle openly, in Rephidim; for that God paid them in the present. The hand of Moses, lifted up on the hill, slew them in the val ley. He therefore repeats not that quar rel ; but the cowardly and cruel attempts upon an impotent enemy, stick still in the stomach ofthe Almighty. Oppression and wrong, upon even terms, are not so heinous unto God, as those that are upon manifest disadvantage : in the one, there is a hazard of return; in the other, there is ever a tyrannous insultation. God takes still the weaker part, and will be sure therefore to plague them which seek to put injuries on the unable to resist. This sin of Amalek slept all the time of the judges : those governors were only for rescue and defence ; now, so soon as Israel hath a king, and that king is settled in peace, God gives charge to call them to account : it was that which God had both threatened i and sworn, and now he chooses out a fit season for the execution. As we use to say of winter, the judgments of God do Con*. L] SAUL AND AGAG. 179 never rot in the sky, but shall fall, if late, yet surely, yet seasonably. There is small comfort in the delay of vengeance, while we are sure it shall lose nothing in the way by length of protraction. The Kenites were the offspring of Ho- bab or Jethro, father-in-law to Moses : the affinity of him, to whom Israel owed their deliverance and being, was worthy of re spect ; but it was the mercy of that good and wise Midianite showed unto Israel in the wilderness, by his grave advice, cheer ful gratulation and aid, which won this grateful forbearance of his posterity. He that is not less in mercy than injustice, as he challenged Amalek's sin of their suc ceeding generations, so he derives the re compense of Jethro's kindness unto his far descended issue. Those that were unborn many ages after Jethro's death, receive life from his dust, and favour from his hospi tality : the name of their dead grandfather saves them from the common destruction of their neighbours. The services of our love to God's children are never thankless. When we are dead and rotten, they shall live, and procure blessings to those which never knew, perhaps, nor heard of their progenitors; If we sow good works, suc cession shall reap them, and we shall be happy in making them so. The Kenites dwelt in the borders of Amalek, but in tents, as did their issue the Rechabites, so as they might remove with ease. They are warned to shift their ha bitation, lest they should perish with ill neighbours. It is the manner of God, first to separate before he judge, as a good hus bandman weeds his corn ere it be ripe for the sickle, and goes to the fan ere he go to the fire. When the Kenites pack up their fardels, it is time to expect judgment. Why should not we imitate God, and sepa rate ourselves, that we may not be judged ; separate not one Kenite from another, but every Kenite from among the Amalekites ; else, if we will needs live with Amalek, we cannot think much to die with him. The Kenites are no sooner removed, than Saul falls upon the Amalekites . he destroys all the people, but spares their 'king. The charge of God was universal, for man and beast. In the corruption of par tiality, lightly the greatest escape. Covet ousness or misaffection are commonly guilty of the impunity of those which are at once more eminent in dignity and in offence. It is a shameful hypocrisy, to make our commodity the measure and rule of our execution of God's command, and, under pretence of godliness, to intend gain. The unprofitable vulgar must die : Agag may yield a rich ransom. The lean and feeble cattle, that would but spend stover, and die, alone shall perish by the sword of Israel ; the best may stock the grounds, and furnish the markets. 0 hypocrites ! did God send you for gain, or for revenge ? Went you to be purveyors, or execution. ers ? ff you plead that all those wealthy herds had been but lost in a speedy death, think ye that he knew not this which com manded it? Can that be lost, which is devoted to the will of the Owner and Creator ? or can ye think to gain anything by disobedience? That man can never either do well, or fare well, which thinks there can be more profit in anything than in his obedience to his Maker. Because Saul spared the best of the men, the peo ple spared the best of the cattle ; each is willing to favour the other in the sin. The , sins of the great command imitation, and do as seldom go without attendants as their persons. Saul knew well how much he had done amiss, and yet dare meet Samuel, and can say, " Blessed be thou of the Lord ! I have fulfilled the commandment of the Lord." His heart knew that his tongue was as false as his hands had been ; and if his" heart had not been more false than either of them, neither of them had been so gross in their falsehood. If hypocrisy were not either foolish or impudent, she durst not show her head to a seer of God. Could Saul think that Samuel knew of the asses that were lost, and did not know of the oxen and sheep that were spared? could he foretell his thoughts, when it was, and now not know of his open actions? Much less, when we have to do with God himself, should dissimulation presume either of safety or secrecy. Can the God, that made the heart, not know it? can He, that compre hends all things, be shut out of our close corners ? Saul was otherwise crafty enough, yet herein his simplicity is palpable. Sin can besot even the wisest man ; and there was never but folly in wickedness. No man brags so much of holiness as he that wants it. True obedience is joined ever with humility, and fear of unknown errors. Falsehood is bold, and can say, " 1 have fulfilled the commandment ofthe Lord." If Saul had been truly obsequious and holy, he had made no noise of it. A gracious heart is not a blab of his tongue, but rests and rejoiceth silently in the con science of a secret goodness. Those ves sels yield most sound, that have the least liquor. Samuel had reason to believe the m2 180 THE CHOICE OF DAVID. [Book XIIL sheep and oxen above Saul ; their bleating and lowing was a sufficient conviction of a denied and outfaced disobedience. God opened their mouths to accuse Saul of their life, and his falsehood : but as sin is crafty, and never wanted a cloak wherewith both to hide and deck itself, even this very re bellion is holy. First, the act, if it were evil, was not mine, but the people's. And, secondly, their intention makes it good ; for these flocks and herds were preserved, not for gain, but for devotion. What needs this quarrel ? If any gain by this act, it is the Lord thy God : his altars shall smoke with these sacrifices ; ye, that serve at them, shall fare so much the better. This godly thriftiness looks for thanks rather than censure. If Saul had been in Samuel's clothes, perhaps this answer would have satisfied him ; surely himself stands out in it, as that whereto he dares trust ; and after he hears of God's angry reproof, he avows, and doubles his hold of his inno- cency : as if the commanders should not answer for the known sins of the people ; as if our intentions could justify us to God, against God. How much ado is it to bring sinners upon their knees, and to make their tongues accuse their hands! But there is no halting with the Maker of the heart : he knew it was covetousness, and not piety, which was accessory to this forbearance ; and if it had been as was pretended, he knew it was an odious impiety to raise de votion out of disobedience. Saul shall hear and find, that he hath dealt no less wickedly in sparing an Agag, than in kill ing an innocent Israelite ; in sparing these beasts for sacrifice, than in sacrificing beasts that had been unclean. Why was sacrifice itself good, but because it was commanded ? What difference was there betwixt slaugh ter and sacrifice, but obedience? To sacri fice disobediently, is wilfully to mock God in honouring him. CONTEMPLATION II. — THE REJECTION OF SAUL, AND CHOICE OF DAVID. Even when Saul had abandoned God in disobedience, he would not forego Sa muel, yea, though he reproved himj when he had forsaken the substance, yet he would maintain the formality. If he can- riot hold the man, he will keep the pledge of his garment : such was the violence of Saul's desire, that he will rather rend Sa muel's coat than part with his person. Little did Saul think that he had in his hand the pawn of his own rejection ; that this act of kind importunity should carry in it a presage of his judgment : yet so it did. This very rending of the coat was a real prophecy, and did bode no less than the rending of the kingdom from him and his posterity. Wicked men, while they think by carnal means to make their peace, plunge themselves deeper into misery. Any stander-by would have said, What a good king is this ! how dear is God's prophet unto him ! how happy is Israel in such a prince, as thus loves the mes sengers of God ! Samuel, that saw the bottom of his hollow affection, rejects him whom God hath rejected. He was taught to look upon Saul, not as a king, but as an offender, and therefore refuses with no less vehemency than Saul entreated. It was one thing, what he might do as a sub ject ; another, what he must do as a pro* phet. Now, he knows not Saul any otherwise, than as so much the greater trespasser as his place was higher ; and therefore he doth no more spare his great* ness, than the God against whom he sin^ ned; neither doth he countenance that man with his presence, on whom he sees God to frown. There needs no other character of hy pocrisy, than Saul, in the carriage of this one business with Agag and Samuel : first he obeys God, where there is no gain in dis obedience ; then he serves God by halves, and disobeys where the obedience might be loss. He gives God of the worst ; he doth that in a colour, which might seem answerable to the charge of God; he re spects persons in the execution ; he gives good words when his deeds were evil ; he protests his obedience against his con science ; he faces out his protestation against a reproof: when he sees no remedy, he ac knowledges the fact, denies the sin ; yea, he justifies the act by a profitable inten tion : when he can no longer maintain his innocence, he casts the blame from himself, upon the people. He confesseth not, till the sin be wrung from his mouth : he seeks his peace out of himself, and relies more upon another's virtue than his own penii tericy ; he would cloak his guiltiness with the holiness of another's presence : he is more tormented with the danger and da mage of his sin, than with the offence : he cares to hold iu with men, in what terms soever he stands with God : he fa shionably serves that God whom he hath not cared to reconcile by his repentance. No marvel if God cast him off, whose best was dissimulation. Old Samuel is forced to do a double Cont. II.] REJECTION OF SAUL. 181 execution, and that upon no less than two kings : the one upon Saul, in dividing the kingdom from him, who had divided him self from God ; the other upon Agag, in dividing him in pieces, whom Saul should have divided. Those holy hands were not used to such sacrifices ; yet did he never spill blood more acceptably. If Saul had been truly penitent, he had, in a desire of satisfaction, prevented the hand of Samuel in this slaughter : now, he coldly stands still, and suffers the weak hands of an aged prophet to be imbrued with that blood, which he was commanded to shed. If Saul might not sacrifice in the absence of Sa muel, yet Samuel might kill in the presence of Saul. He was yet a judge of Israel, although he suspended the execution : in Saul's neglect, this charge reverted to him. God loves just executions so well, that he will hardly take them ill at any hand. I do not find that the slaughter of Agag troubled Samuel : that other act of his se verity upon Saul, though it drew no blood, yet struck him in the striking, and fetched tears from his eyes. Good Samuel mourned for him, that had not grace to mourn for himself. No man in all Israel might seem to have so much reason to rejoice in Saul's ruin as Samuel, since that he knew him raised up in despite of his government ; yet he mourns more for him than he did for his sons, for himself. It grieved him to see the plant, which he had set in the garden of Israel, thus soon withered. It is an unnatural senselessness not to be af fected with the dangers, with the sins, of our governors. God did not blame this sorrow, but moderated it : " How long wilt thou mourn for Saul?" It was not the af fection he forbade, but the measure. In this is the difference betwixt good men and evil; that evil men mourn not for their own sins ; good men do so mourn for the sins of others, that they will hardly be taken off. If Samuel mourn because Saul hath cast away God by his sin, he must cease to mourn, because God hath cast away Saul from reigning over Israel in his just punish ment. A good heart hath learned to rest itself upon the justice of God's decree, and forgets all'earthly respects when it looks up to heaven. So did God mean to show his displeasure against the person of Saul, that he would show favour to Israel ; he will not therefore bereave them of a king, but change him for a better. Either Saul had slandered his people, or else they were part ners with him in disobedience; yet, be cause it was their ruler's fault that they were not overruled, wc do not hear of their smart ing any otherwise than in the subjection to such a king as was not loyal to God. The loss of Saul is their gain : the government of their first king was abortive ; no marvel if it held not. Now was the maturity of that state ; and therefore God will bring them forth a kindly monarchy, settled where it should.1 Kings are of God's providing. It is good reason he should make choice of his own deputies ; but where goodness meets with sovereignty, both his right and his gift are doubled. If kings were merely from the earth, what needs a prophet to be seen in the choice, or inauguration ? The hand of Samuel doth not now bear the sceptre to rule Israel, but it bears the horn for the anointing of him that must rule. Saul was sent to him, when the time was, to be anointed ; but now he is sent to anoint David ; then Israel sought a king for themselves ; now God seeks a king for Is rael. The prophet is therefore directed to the house of Jesse the Bethlehemite, the grandchild of Ruth : now is the faithful love of that good Moabitess crowned with the honour of a kingdom in the succeed ing generation. God fetched her out of Moab, to bring a king unto Israel. While Orpah wants bread in her own country, Ruth is grown a great lady in Bethlehem, and is advanced to be great grandmother to the king of Israel. The retributions of God are bountiful : never any man forsook aught for his sake, and complained of a hard bargain. Even the best of God's saints want not their infirmities. He, that never replied when he was sent to reprove the king, moveth doubts, when he is bidden to go and anoint his successor : " How can I go ? If Saul hear it, he will kill me." Perhaps desire of full direction drew from him this question, but not without a mixture of diffi dence; for the manner of doing it doth not so much trouble him, as the success. It is not to be expected that the most faithful hearts should be always in an equal height of resolution: God doth not chide Samuel, but instruct him. He, which is wisdom it self, teacheth him to hide his counsels in an honest policy : " Take an heifer with thee, and say, I am come to> do sacrifice to the Lord." This was to say true, not to say all. Truth may not be crossed by denials or equivocations : it may be concealed in a discreet silence. Except in the case of an oath, no man is bound to speak all he knows : we are not only allowed, but commanded, to be innocently serpentine. There were, doubtless, heifers enough in Bethlehem ; , 182 THE CHOICE OF DAVID. [Book XIII. Jesse had both wealth and devotion enough to have bestowed a sacrifice upon God and his prophet. But, to give a more perfect colour to his intention, Samuel must take a heifer with him : the act itself was serious and necessary. There was no place, no time, wherein it was not fit for Samuel to offer peace-offerings unto God ; but when a king should be anointed, there was no less than necessity in this service. Those which must represent God to the world, ought to be consecrated to that Majesty whom they resemble, by public devotions. Every important action requires a sacrifice to bless it, much more that act which im ports the whole church or commonwealth. It was great news to see Samuel at Beth lehem : he was no gadder abroad ; none but necessary occasions could make him stir from Ramah. The elders of the city therefore welcome him with trembling ; not for that they were afraid of him, but of themselves : they knew that guest would not come to them for familiarity : straight do they suspect it was the purposeof somejudgment that drew him thither: " Comest thou peaceably ?" It is a good thing to stand in awe of God's messengers, and to hold good terms with them upon all occasions. The Bethlehe mites are glad to hear of no other errand but a sacrifice ; and now must they sanc tify themselves for so sacred a business. We may not presume to sacrifice unto God unsanctified ; this were to mar an holy act, and make ourselves more profane, by pro faning that which should be holy. All the citizens sanctify themselves ; but Jesse and his sons were, in a special fa shion, sanctified by Samuel. This business was most theirs, and all Israel in them. The more God hath to do with us, the more holy should we be. With what de sire did Samuel look upon the sons of Jesse, that he might see the face of the man whom God had chosen ! And now, when Ehab, the eldest son, came forth, a man of a goodly presence, whose person seemed fit to succeed Saul, he thinks with himself, This choice is soon made ; I have already espied the head on which I must spend this holy oil ; this is the man which nath both the privilege of nature in his primogeniture, and of outward goodliness in proportion : surely the Lord's anointed is before me. Even the holiest prophet, when he goes without God, runs into error ; the best judgment is subject to de ceit : it is no trusting to any mortal man, when he speaks of himself. Our eyes can be led by nothing but signs and ap pearances, and those have commonly in them either a true falsehood, or uncertain truth. That which would have forewarned Samuel, deceived him : he had seen the proof of a goodly stature unanswerable to their hopes, and yet his eye errs in the shape. He that judgeth by the inside, both of our hearts and actions, checks Samuel in his misconceit : " Look not on his countenance, nor on the height of his stature, because I have refused him ; for God seeth not as man seeth." The king with whom God meant to satisfy the un timely desires of Israel was chosen by his stature ; but the king with whom God meant to please himself, is chosen by the heart. All the seven sons of Jesse are presented to the prophet ; no one is omit ted whom their father thought capable of any respect, ff either Samuel or Jesse should have chosen, David should never have been king. His father thought him fit to keep sheep ; his brethren fit to rule men : yet even David, the youngest son, is fetched from the fold, and, by the choice of God, destined to the throne. Nature, which is commonly partial to her own, could not suggest ought to Jesse, to make him think David worthy to be remembered in any competition of honour ; yet him hath God singled out to rule. God will have his wisdom magnified in the unlikelihoods of 'his election. David's countenance was ingenuous and beautiful; but if it had promised so much as Eliab's or Aminadab's, he had not been in the * fields while his brethren were at the sacri fice. If we do altogether follow our eye, and suffer ourselves to be guided by out ward respects in our choice for God or ourselves, we cannot but go amiss. What do we think the brethren of David thought, when they saw the oil poured upon his head? Surely, as they were envious enough, they had too much repined, if they had either fully apprehended the purpose of the prophet, or else had not thought of some improbability in the success ; either they understood not, or believed not, what God would do with their brother ; they saw him graced with God's spirit above his wont, but perhaps foresaw not whither it tended. David, as no whit changed in his condition, returns to his sheep again, and, with an humble admiration of God's gracious respect to him, casts himself upon the wise and holy decree of the Almighty, resigning himself to the disposition of those hands which had chosen him ; when suddenly a messenger is sent from Saul, to call him in all haste to that court whereof he shall once be Cont. III.] DAVID CALLED TO COURT. 183 master. The occasion is no less from God than the event. CONTEMPLATION III. — DAVID CALLED TO THE COURT. That the kingdom is, in the appoint ment of God, departed from Saul, it is his least loss ; now the Spirit of God is also departed from him : one spirit is no sooner gone, but another is come ; both are from God. Even the worst spirits have not only permission, but commission from heaven for the infliction of judgment. He that at first could hide himself among the stuff, that he might not be king, is now so trans ported with this glory, that he grows pas sionate with the thought of foregoing it. Satan takes advantage of his melancholic dejection, and turns this passion into frenzy. God will have even evil spirits work by means : a distempered body, and an unquiet mind, are fit grounds for Satan's vexation. Saul's courtiers, as men that were more witty than religious, advise him to music : they knew the strength of that skill in allay ing the fury of passions, in cheering up the dejected spirits of their master. This was done like some fond chirurgeon, that, when the bone is out of joint, lays some suppling poultices to the part, for the assuaging of the ache, in the meantime not caring to re medy the luxation. If they had said, Sir, you know this evil comes from that God whom you have of fended ; there can be no hope but in re concilement : how easy is it for the God of spirits to take off Satan ! labour your peace with him by a serious humiliation; make means to Samuel to further the atonement I they had been wise counsellors, divine physicians : whereas now, they do but skin over the sore, and leave it rankled at the bottom. The cure must ever proceed in the same steps with the disease, else in vain shall we seem to heal : there is no safety in the redress of evils, but to strike at the root. Yet, since it is no better with Saul and his courtiers, it is well it is no worse : I do not hear either the master or servants say, This is an ill spirit; send for some magician that may countermand him : there are forcible enchantments for these spiritual vexations ; if Samuel will not, there are witches that may give ease. But as one that would rather be ill than do worse, he contents himself to do that which was lawful, if unsufficient. It is a shame to say, that he, whom God had rejected for his sin, was yet a saint to some that should be Christians, who care not how much they are beholden to the devil in their distresses, affecting to cast out devils by Beelzebub. In cases of loss, or sickness, they make hell their refuge, and seek for patronage from an enemy. Here is a fearful agreement : Satan seeks to them in his temptations ; they, in their consultations, seek to him : and now that they have mutually found each other, if ever they part it is a miracle. David had lived obscurely in his father's house : his only care and ambition was the welfare of the flock he tended ; and now, while his father and his brothers neglected him, as fit for nothing but the field, he is talked of at the court. Some of Saul's followers had been at Jesse's house, and taken notice of David's skill ; and now that harp, which he practised for his private recreation, shall make him of a shepherd a courtier. The music that he meant only to himself and his sheep, brings him before kings. The wisdom of God thought fit to take this occasion of acquainting David with that court which he shall once govern. It is good that education should perfect our children in all those commendable qua lities whereto they are disposed. Little do we know what use God means to make of those faculties which we know not how to employ ! Where the Almighty purposes an advancement, obscurity can be no preju dice : small means shall set forward that which God hath decreed. Doubtless, old Jesse noted, not without admiration, the wonderful accordance of God's proceedings, that he, which was sent for out of the field to be anointed, should now be sent for out of the country into the court ; and now he perceived God was making way for the execution of that which he purposed : he attends the issue in silence, neither shall his hand fail to give further ance to the project of God ; he therefore sends his son laden with a present to Saul. The same God which called David to the court, welcomes him thither : his comeli ness, valour, and skill, have soon won him favour in the eyes of Saul. The Giver of all graces hath so placed his favours, that the greatest enemies of goodness shall see somewhat in the holiest men, which they shall affect, and for which they shall honour the persons of them whose virtues they dis like ; as, contrarily, the saints on earth see somewhat to love even in the worst crea tures. No doubt David sung to his harp : his harp was not more sweet than his song was holy. Those Psalms alone had been more powerful to chase the evil spirit, than the 134 DAVID AND GOLIAH. Book XIIL music was to calm passions : both together gave ease to Saul ; and God gave this effect to both, because he would have Saul train up his successor. This sacred music did not more dispel Satan, than wanton music invites him, and more cheers him than us. He plays and dances at a filthy song ; he sings at an obscene dance. Our sin is his best pastime ; whereas psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs, are torment unto the tempter, and music to the angels in heaven, whose trade is to sing Hallelujahs in the choir of glory. CONTEMPLATION IV DAVID AND GOLIAH. After the news of the Philistines' army, 1 hear no more mention of Saul's frenzy : whether the noise of war diverted those thoughtful passions, or whether God, for his people's sake, took off that evil spirit, lest Israel might miscarry under a frantic governor. Now David hath leisure to re turn to Bethlehem : the glory of the court cannot transport him to ambitious vanity ; he had rather be his father's shepherd than Saul's armour-bearer. All the magnificence and state which he saw could not put his mouth out of the taste of retired simplicity ; yea, rather, he loves his hook the better, since he saw the court ; and now his bre thren serve Saul in his stead. A good heart hath learned to frame itself unto all conditions, and can change estates without change of disposition, rising and falling ac cording to occasion. The worldly mind can rise easily, but, when it is once up, knows not how to descend either with patience or safety. Forty days together had the Philistines and the Israelites faced each other: they pitched on two hills, one in sight of the other; nothing but a valley was betwixt them. Both stand upon defence and ad vantage: if they had not meant" to fight, they had never drawn so near ; and if they had been eager to fight, a valley could not have parted them. Actions of hazard re quire deliberation ; not fury, but discretion, must be the guide of war. So had Joshua destroyed the giantly Anakims out of the land of Israel, that yet some were left in Azzah, Gath, and Ash dod ; both to show Israel what adversaries their forefathers found in Canaan, and whom they mastered; as also, that God might win glory to himself by these sub sequent executions. Of that race was Go liah, whose heart was as high as his head : his sretngth was answerable to his stature; his weapons answerable to his strength; his pride exceeded all : because he saw his head higher, his arms stronger, his sword and spear bigger, his shield heavier than any Israelite's, he defies the whole host; and, walking between the two armies, braves all Israel with a challenge : " Why are ye come out to set your battle in array"? Am not I a Philistine, and you servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. Give me a man, that we may fight together." Carnal hearts are carried away with presumption of their own abilities, and, not finding matches to them selves in outward appearance, insult over the impotency of inferiors, and as those that can see no invisible opposition, pro mise themselves certainty of success. In solence and self-confidence argue the heart to be nothing but a lump of proud flesh. The first challenge of a duel, that ever we find, came out of the mouth of an un circumcised Philistine ; yet was that in open war, and tended to the saving of many lives, by adventuring one or two; and whosoever imitateth, nay, surpasseth him in challenge to private duels, in the attempt partaketh of his uircircumcision, though he should overcome, and of his manner of punish ment, if in such private combats he cast away his life. For of all such desperate prodigals we may say, that their heads are cut off by their own sword, if not by their own hand. We cannot challenge men, and not challenge God, who justly challengeth to himself both to take vengeance and to give success. The more Goliah challenges, and is unanswered, the more he is puffed up in the pride of his own power. And is there none of all Israel that will answer this champion otherwise than with his heels ? Where is the courage of him that that was higher than all Israel from the shoulders upward ? The time was, when Nahash the Ammonite had made that ty rannous demand of the right eyes of the Gileadites, that Saul could say, unasked, " What aileth the people to weep ?" and could hew his oxen in pieces to raise the spirits of Israel ; and now he stands still, and sees the host turn their back, and never so much as asks, What aileth the people to flee ? The time was, when Saul slew forty thousand Philistines in one day, and perhaps Goliah was in that discomfiture ; and now one Philistine is suffered by him to brave all Israel forty days. Whence is this difference? The Spirit of God, the spirit of fortitude, was now departed from him. Saul was not more above himself when God was with him, than he is below others now that he Cont. IV] DAVID AND GOLIAH. 185 is left of God. Valour is not merely of nature ; nature is ever like itself: by this rule, he that is once valiant should never turn coward. But now we see the greatest spirits inconstant, and those, which have given good proofs of magnanimity at other times, have bewrayed white livers unto their own reproach. He, that is the God of hosts, gives and takes away men's hearts at his pleasure. Neither is it otherwise in our spiritual combats : sometimes the same soul dare challenge all the powers of dark ness, which other times gives ground, to a temptation. We have no strength but what is given us ; and if the Author of all good gifts remit .his hand for our humiliation, either we fight not, or are foiled. David hath now lain long enough close among his flock in the fields of Bethlehem ; God sees a time to send him to the pitched field of Israel. Good old Jesse, that was doubtless joyful to think that he had af forded three sons to the wars of his king, is no less careful of their welfare and pro- . vision; and who, amongst all- the rest of his seven sons, shall be picked out for this service, but his youngest son David, whose former and almost worn-out acquaintance in court, and employment under Saul, seemed to fit him best for this errand? Early in the morning is David upon his way, yet not so early as to leave his flock unprovided. If his father's command dis miss him, yet will he stay till he have trusted his sheep with a careful keeper. We cannot be faithful shepherds if our spiritual charge be less dear unto us ; if, when necessity calls us from our flocks, we depute not those who are vigilant and conscionable. Ere David's speed can bring him to the valley of Elah, both the armies are on foot ready to join : he takes not this excuse to stay without, as a man daunted with the horror of war; but, leaving' his present with his servant, he thrusts himself into the thickest of the host, and salutes his brethren, who were now thinking of kill- . ing or dying. When the proud champion of the Philistines comes stalking forth be fore all the troops, and renews this in solent challenge against Israel, David sees the man, and hears his defiance, and looks about him, to see what answer would be given: and when he spies nothing but pale faces, and backs turned, he wonders, not so much that one man should dare all Israel, as that all Israel should run from one man. Even when they fly from Go liah, they talk of the reward that should be given to that encounter and victory, which they dare not undertake ; so those, who have not grace to believe, can yet say, there is glory laid up for the faithful. Ever since his anointing, was David pos sessed of God's Spirit, and thereby filled both with courage and wisdom : the more strange doth it seem to him, that all Israel should be thus dastardly. Those that are themselves eminent in any grace, cannot but wonder at the miserable defects of others: and the more shame they see in others' imperfections, the more is their zeal in avoiding those errors jn themselves." While base hearts are moved by ex ample, the want of example is encourage ment enough for an heroical mind ; therei fore is David ready to undertake the quarrel, because no man else dare do it. His eyes sparkled with holy anger, and his heart rose up to his mouth, when he heard this proud challenge : " Who is this uncircum cised Philistine, that he should revile the host ofthe living God?" Even so, O Sa viour, when all the generations of men run away affrighted from the powers of death and darkness, thou alone hast undertaken, and confounded them ! Who should offer to daunt the holy corirage of David, but his own brethren ? The envious heart of Eliab construes this forwardness as his own disgrace. Shall I, thinks he, be put down by this puisne ? shall my father's youngest son dare to attempt that, which my stomach will not serve me to adventure ? Now, therefore, he rates David for his presumption -, and instead of answering to the recompense of the victory which others were ready to give, he recompenseth the very inquiry of David with a check. It was for his brethren's sake that David came thither ; and yet his very journey is cast upon him, by them, for a reproach : " Wherefore earnest thomdown hither?" and, when their bitterness can meet with nothing else to shame him, his sheep are cast in his teeth. Is it for thee, an idle proud boy, to be meddling with our martial matters ? Doth not yonder cham pion look as if he were a fit match for thee ? What makest thou of thyself ? or what dost thou think of us ? I think it were fitter for thee to be looking to thy sheep, than looking at Goliah. The wilderness would become thee better than the field. Where in art thou equal to any man thou seest, but in arrogancy and presumption ? The pastures of Bethlehem could not hold thee ; but thou thoughtest it a goodly matter to see the wa.rs. I know thee, as if I were in thy bosom : this was thy thought, There is no glory to be got ampng fleeces, I will go 186 DAVID AND GOLIAH. [Book XIII. seek it in arms : now are my brethren win ning honour in the troops of Israel, while I am basely tending on sheep ; why should not I be as forward as the best of them ? This vanity would make thee straight of a shepherd a soldier, and of a soldier a cham pion. Get thee home, foolish stripling, to thy hook and thy harp ; let swords and spears alone to those that know how to use them. It is quarrel enough, amongst many, to a good action, that it is not their own. There is no enemy so ready, or so spiteful, as tne domestical. The hatred of brethren is so much more, as their blood is nearer. The malice of strangers is simple, but of a brother is mixt with envy. The more un natural any quality is, the more extreme it is : a cold wind from the south is intole rable. David's first victory is of himself, next of his brother. He overcomes him self; in a patient forbearance of his brother ; he overcomes the malicious rage of his brother, with the mildness of his answer. ff David had wanted spirit, he had not been troubled with the insultation of a Philis tine. If he had a spirit to match Goliah, how doth he so calmly receive the affront of a brother ? " What have I now done ? is there not a cause ?" That which would have stirred the choler of another, allayeth his. It was a brother that wronged him, and that his eldest. Neither was it time to quarrel with a brother, while the Philis tines' swords were drawn, and Goliah was challenging. O that these two motives could induce us to peace ! If we have in jury in our person, in our cause, it is from brethren, and the Philistines look on : 1 am deceived, if this conquest were less glorious than the following ; he is fit to be God's champion, that hath learned to be victor of himself. It is not this sprinkling of cold water that can quench the fire of David's zeal, but still his courage sends up flames of desire ; still he goes on to inquire, and to proffer. He, whom the regard of others' envy can dis may, shall never do aught worthy of envy. Never man undertook any exploit of worth, and received not some discouragement in the way. This courageous motion of Da vid was not more scorned by his brother, than by the other Israelites applauded. The rumour flies to the ears of the king, that there is a young man desirous to en counter the giant. David is brought forth. Saul, when he heard of a champion that durst go into the lists with Goliah, looked for one as much higher than himself, as he was taller than the rest : he expected some stern face, and brawny arm ; young and ruddy David is so far below his thoughts, that he receives rather contempt than thanks. His words were stout ; his person was weak. Saul doth not more like his resolution, than distrust his ability : " Thou art not able to go against this Philistine, to fight with him ; for thou art a boy, and he is a man of war from his youth." Even Saul seconds Eliab in the conceit of this disparity ; and if Eliab spake out of envy, Saul speaks out of judgment : both judge, as they were judged of, by the stature. AH this cannot weaken that heart, which re- ceives his strength from faith. David's greatest conflict is with his friends ; the overcoming of their dissuasions, that he might fight, was more work than to over come his enemy in fighting. He must first justify his strength to Saul, ere he may prove it upon Goliah. Valour is never made good but by trial. He pleads the trial of his puissance upon the bear and the lion, that he may have leave to prove it upon a worst beast than they : " Thy servant slew both fhe lion and the bear, therefore this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them." Experience of good suc cess is no small comfort to the heart ; this gives possibility and hope, but no certainty. Two tilings there were on which David built his confidence : on Goliah's sin, and- God's deliverance : " Seeing he hath railed on the host of the living God : the Lord, that delivered me out of the paws of the lion and the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine." Well did David know, that if this Philistine's skin had been as hard as the brass of his shield, his sin would make it penetrable by every stroke. After all brags of manhood, he is impotent that hath provoked God. While others labour for outward fortification, happy j and' safe were we, if we could labour for in- I nocence. He that hath found God present i in one extremity, may trust him in the next. Every sensible favour of the Almighty in vites both his gifts and our trust. Resolution, thus grounded, makes even Saul himself confident : David shall have both his leave and his blessing. If David came to Saul as a shepherd, he shall go toward Goliah as a warrior. The attire of the king is not too rich for him that shall fight for his king and country. Little did Saul think, that his helmet was now on that head, which should once wear his crown. Now, that David was arrayed in the war like habit of a king, and girded with his sword, he looked upon himself, and thought this outside glorious : but when he offered to walk, and found that the attire was not CONT. IV.] DAVID AND GOLIAH. 187 so strong as unwieldy, and that it might be more for show than use, he lays down these accoutrements of honour, and, as caring rather to be a homely victor, than a glorious spoil, he craves pardon to go in no clothes but his own : he takes his staff, instead of the spear, his shepherd's scrip instead of his brigandine, and instead of his sword he takes his sling, and instead of darts and javelins, he takes five smooth stones out of the brook. Let Saul's coat be never so rich, and his armour never so strong, what is David the better, if they fit him not ? It is not to be inquired, how excellent any thing is, but how proper. Those things which are helps to some, may be encum brances to others. An unmeet good may be as inconvenient as an accustomed evil. If we could wish another man's honour, when we feel the weight of his cares we should be glad to be in our own coat. Those that depend upon the strength of faith, though they neglect not means, yet they are not curious in the proportion of outward means to the effect desired. — Where the heart is armed with an assured confidence, a sling and a stone are weapons enough ; to the unbelieving, no helps are sufficient. Goliah, though he were pre sumptuous enough, yet had one shield carried before him ; another he carried on his shoulder : neither will his sword alone content him, but he takes his spear too. David's armour is his plain shepherd's russet, and the brook yields him his artil lery ; and he knows there is more safety in his cloth, than in the other's brass ; and more danger in his pebbles, than in the other's spear. Faith gives both heart and arras. The inward munition is so much more noble, because it is of proof for both soul and body : if we be furnished with this, how boldly shall we meet with the powers of darkness, and go away more than conquerors ! Neither did the quality of David's wea pons bewray more confidence than the number. If he will put his life and victory upon the stones of the brook, why doth he not fill his scrip full of them ? why will he content himself with five ? Had he been furnished with store, the advantage of his nimbleness might have given liim hope, if one fail, that yet another might speed ; but now this paucity puts the despatch to a sudden hazard, and he hath but five stones-cast either to death or victory : still the fewer helps, the stronger faith. David had an instinct from God that he should overcome ; he had not a particular direc tion how he should overcome. For had he been at first resolved upon the sling and stone, he had saved the labour of girding his sword. It seems while they were ad dressing him to the combat, he made ac count of hand blows ; now he is purposed rather to send, than bring death to his ad versary : in either, or both, he durst trust God with the success, and beforehand (through the conflict) saw the victory : it is sufficient, that we know the issue of our fight. If our weapons and wards vary, ac cording to the occasion given by God, that is nothing to the event : sure we are, that if we resist, we shall overcome ; and if we overcome, we shall be crowned. When David appeared in the lists to so unequal an adversary, as many eyes were upon him, so in those eyes diverse affec tions. The Israelites looked upon him with pity and fear, and each man thought, Alas ! why is this comely stripling suffered to cast away himself upon such a mons ter? why will they let him go unarmed to such an affray? Why will Saul hazard the honour of Israel on so unlikely a head ? The Philistines, especially their great cham pion, looked upon him with scorn, disdain ing so base a combatant: " Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with staves?" What could be said more fitly? Hadst thou been any other than a dog, O Goliah, thou hadst never opened thy foul mouth to bark against the host of God, and the God of hosts. If David had thought thee any other than a very dog, he had never come to thee with a staff and a stone. The last words that ever the Philistine shall speak, are curses and brags : *' Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls ofthe heaven, and the beasts ofthe field." Seldom ever was there a good end of ostentation. Presumption is at once the presage and cause of ruin. He is a weak adversary that can be killed with words. That man which could not fear the giant's hand, cannot fear his tongue. If words shall first encounter, the Philistine receives the first foil, and shall first let in death unto his ear, ere it enter into his forehead. " Thou comest to me with a sword, and a spear, and a shield ; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the host of Israel, whom thou hast railed upon. This day shall the Lord close thee in my hand, and I shall smite thee, and take thine head from thee." Here is an other style, not of a boaster, but of a pro phet. Now shall Goliah know whence to expect his bane, even from the hands of a revenging God, that shall smite him by David, and now shall learn, too late, what 188 JONATHAN'S LOVE. [Book XIII. it is to meddle with an enemy that goes under the invisible protection of the Al mighty. No sooner hath David spoken, than his foot and hand second his tongue ; he runs to fight with the Philistine. It is a cold courage that stands only upon de fence : as a man that saw no cause of fear, and was full of the ambition of victory, he flies upon that monster, and, with a stone out of his bag, smites him in the forehead. There was no part of Goliah that was ca pable of that danger, but the face, and that piece of the face ; the rest was defended with a brazen wall, which a weak sling would have tried to batter in vain. What could Goliah fear, to see an adversary come to him without edge or point ! And, be hold, that one part hath God found out for the entrance of death. He, that could have caused the stone to pass through the shield and breast-plate of Goliah, rather directs the stone to that part whose naked ness gave advantage. Where there is power or possibility of nature, God uses not to work miracles, but chooses the way that lies most open to his purposes. The vast forehead was a fair mark ; but how easily might the sling have missed it, if there had not been another hand in this cast besides David's ! He that guided David into this field, and raised his courage to this combat, guides the stone to his end, and lodges it in that seat of impudence. There now lieth the great defier of Israel, grovelling and grinning in death, and is not suffered to deal one blow for his life, and bites the unwelcome earth, for indignation that he dies by the hand of a shepherd ! Earth and hell share him betwixt them. Such is the end of insolence and presump tion. O God, what is flesh and blood to thee, who canst make a little pebble-stone stronger than a giant, and, when thou wilt, by the weakest means, canst strew thine enemies in the dust ! Where now are the two shields of Goliah, that they did not bear off this stroke of death ? or wherefore serves that weaver's beam, but to strike the earth in falling ? or that sword, but to behead his master ? What needed David load himself with an unnecessary weapon ! one sword can serve both Goliah and him. If Goliah had a man to bear his shield, David had Goliah to bear his sword, where with that proud blasphemous head is se vered from his shoulders. Nothing more honours God, than the turning of wicked men's forces against themselves. There are none of his enemies but carry with them their own destruction. Thus didst thou, O son of David, foil Satan with his own weapon ; that whereby he meant de struction to thee and us, vanquished him through thy mighty power, and raised thee to that glorious triumph and super-exalta tion wherein thou art, wherein we shall be with thee. contemplation v jonathan s love, and saul's envy. Besides the discomfiture of the Philis tines, David's victory had a double issue i Jonathan's love, and Saul's envy, which God so mixed, that the one was a remedy of the other. A good son makes amends for a wayward father. How precious was that stone that killed such an enemy as Goliah, and purchased such a friend as Jonathan ! All Saul's courtiers looked upon David : none so affected him, none did match him but Jonathan; that true cor respondence, that was both in their faith and valour, hath knit their hearts. If Da vid did set upon a bear, a lion, a giant Jo nathan had set upon a whole host, and prevailed : the same spirit animated both ; the same faith incited both ; the same hand prospered both. All Israel was not worth this pair of friends, so zealously confident, so happily victorious. Similitude of dispo sitions and estates ties the fastest knots of affection. A wise soul hath piercing eyes, and hath quickly discerned the likeness of itself in another ; as we do no sooner look into the glass of water, but face answers to face, and, where it sees a perfect resem blance of itself, cannot choose but love it with the same affection that it reflects upon itself. No man saw David that day, which had so much cause to disaffect him; none in Israel should be a loser by David's success,, but Jonathan. Saul was sure enough set tled for his time : only his successor should forego all that which David should gain ; so as none but David stands in Jonathan's light ; and yet all this cannot abate one jot or dram of his love. Where God uniteth hearts, carnal respects are too weak to dis sever them, since that, which breaks off affection, must needs be stronger than that which conjoineth it. Jonathan doth not desire to smother his love by concealment, but professes it in his carriage and actions ; he puts off the robe that was upon him, and all his garments, eyen to his sword, and bow and girdle, and gives them unto his new friend. It was perhaps not without a mystery, that Saul's clothes fitted not David, but Jonathan's. Cont. V.] SAUL'S ENVY, 189 fitted him ; and these he is as glad to wear, as he was to be disburdened of the other : that there might be a perfect resemblance, their bodies are suited as well as their hearts. Now the beholders can say, There goes Jonathan's other self; if there be another body under those clothes, there is the same soul. Now David hath cast off his russet coat, and his scrip, and is a shepherd no more ; he is suddenly become both a cour tier and a captain, and a companion to the prince ; yet himself is not changed with his habit, with his condition ; yea, rather, as if his wisdom had reserved itself for his ex altation, he so manageth a sudden great ness, as that he winneth all hearts. Honour shows the man ; and if there be any ble mishes of imperfection, they will be seen in the man that is unexpectedly lifted above his fellows : he is out of the danger of folly, whom a speedy advancement leaveth wise. Jonathan loved David, the soldiers ho noured him, the court favoured him, the people applauded him ; only Saul stomached him, and therefore hated him, because he was so happy in all besides himself. It had been a shame for all Israel, if they had not magnified their champion. Saul's own heart could not but tell him, that they did owe the glory of that day, and the safety of himself and Israel, unto the sling of David, who, in one man, slew all those thousands at a blow. It was enough for the puissant king of Israel to follow the chase, and to kill them whom David had put to flight ; yet he, that could lend his clothes and his armour to this exploit, can not abide to part with the honour of it to him that had earned it so dearly. The holy songs of David had not more quieted his spirits before, than now the thankful song of the Israelitish women vexes him. One little ditty, of " Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands," sung, unto the timbrels of Israel, fetched again that evil spirit, which David's music had expelled. Saul needed not the torment of a worse spirit than envy. O the unrea sonableness of this wicked passion ! The women gave Saul more, and David less, than he deserved ; for Saul alone could not kill a thousand, and David, in that one act of killing Goliah, slew in effect all the Philistines that were slain that day: and yet, because they gave more to David than to himself, he that should have indited, and begun that song of thankfulness, re pines, and grows now as mad with envy, as he was before with grief. Truth and justice are no protection against malice. Epvy is blind to all objects, save other men's happiness. If the eyes of men could be contained within their own bounds, and not rove forth into comparisons, there could be no place for this vicious affection ; but, when they have once taken this lawless scope to themselves, they lose the know ledge of home, and care only to be em ployed abroad in their own torment. Never was Saul's breast so fit a lodging for the evil spirit, as now that it is dressed up with envy. It is as impossible that hell should be free from devils, as a malicious heart. Now doth the frantic king of Israel renew his old fits, and walks and talks dis tractedly: he was mad with David, and who but David must be called to allay his madness? Such was David's wisdom, he could not but know the terms wherein he stood with Saul ; yet, in lieu of the harsh and discordant notes of his master's envy, he returns pleasing music unto him. He can never be a good courtier, nor a good man, that hath not learned to repay, if not injuries with thanks, yet evil with good. While there was a harp in David's hand, there was a spear in Saul's, wherewith he threatens death, as the recompense of that sweet melody. He said, " I will smite Da vid through to the wall. It is well for the innocent, that wicked men cannot keep their own counsel. God fetcheth their thoughts out of their mouths, or their coun tenance, for a seasonable prevention, which else might proceed to secret execution. It was time for David to withdraw himself; his obedience did not tie him to be the mark of a furious master ; he might ease Saul with his music, with his blood he might not : twice, therefore, doth he avoid the presence, not the court, nor the service of Saul. One would have thought rather, that David should have been afraid of Saul, because the devil was so strong with him, than that Saul should be afraid of*David, because the Lord was with him ; yet we find all the fear in Saul of David, none in David of Saul. Hatred and fear are ordi nary companions. David had wisdom and faith to dispel his fears ; Saul had nothing but infidelity, and dejected, self-condemned, distempered thoughts, which must needs nourish them ; yet Saul could not fear any hurt from David, whom he found so loyal and serviceable : he fears only too much good unto David ; and the envious fear is much more than the distrustful. Now David's presence begins to be more dis pleasing, than his music was sweet : despite itself had rather prefer him to a remote dignity, than endure him a nearer atten- 190 MICHAL'S WILE. [Book XIIL dant. This promotion increaseth David's honour and love; and his love and honour aggravate Saul's hatred and fear. Saul's madness hath not bereaved him of his craft ; for, perceiving how great Da vid was grown in the reputation of Israel, he dares not offer any personal or direct violence to him, but hires him into the jaws of a supposed death,, by no less price than his eldest daughter : " Behold my eldest daughter Merab, her will I give thee to wife ; only be a valiant son to me, and fight the Lord's battles." Could ever man speak more graciously, more holily ? What could be more graciously offered by a king than his eldest daughter? what care could be more holy than of the Lord's battles ? Yet never did Saul intend so much mis chief to David, or so much unfaithfulness to God, as when he spake thus. There is never so much danger of the falsehearted, as when they make the fairest weather. Saul's spear bade David be gone, but his plausible words invite him to danger. This honour was due to David before, upon the compact of his victory ; yet he, that twice inquired into the reward of that enterprise before he undertook it, never demanded it after that achievement ; neither had Saul the justice to offer it as a recompense of so noble an exploit, but as a snare to envied victory. Charity suspects not : David con strues that as an effect and argument of his master's love, which was no other but a child of envy, but a plot of mischief; and though he knew his own desert, and the jus tice of his claim to Merab, yet he, in a sin cere humility, disparageth himself, his birth and parentage, with a " Who am I?" As it was not the purpose of this mo desty in David to reject, but to solicit the proffered favour of Saul, so was it not in the power of this bashful humiliation to turn back the edge of so keen an envy. It helps not that David makes himself mean, while others magnify his worth : whatsoever the colour was, Saul meant nothing to David but danger and death ; and since all those battles will not effect that which he de sired, himself will not effect that which he promised. If he cannot kill David, he will disgrace him. David's honour was Saul's disease : it was not likely, therefore, that Saul would add unto that honour whereof he was so sick already. Merab was given unto another; neither do I hear David complain of so manifest an injustice : he knew, that the God whose battles he fought had provided a due reward of his patience. If Merab fail, God hath a Michal in store for him : she is in love with David ; his comeliness and valour hath so won her heart, that she now emulates the affection of her brother Jonathan. If she be the younger sister, yet she is more affectionate. Saul is glad of the news: his daughter could never live to do him better service, than to be a new snare to his adversary. She shall be therefore sacrificed to his envy; and her honest and sincere love shall be made a. bait for her worthy and innocent husband : " I will give him her, that she may be a snare unto him, that the hand of the Philistines may be against him." The purpose of any favour is more than the va lue of it. Even the greatest honours may be given with an intent of destruction. Many a man is raised up for a fall. So for ward is Saul in the match, that he sends spokesmen to solicit David to that honour. which he hopes will prove the highway to death. The dowry is set : a hundred fore skins of the Philistines ; not their heads, but their foreskins, that this victory might be more ignominious : still thinking, Why may not one David miscarry, as well as a hundred Philistines? And what doth Saul's envy all this while, but enhance David's zeal, and valour, and glory? That good captain, little imagining that himself was the Philistine whom Saul maligned, supere- rogates of his master, and brings two hun dred for one, and returns home safe and renowned. Neither can Saul now fly off for shame : there is no remedy, but David must be a son, where he was a rival ; and Saul must feed upon his own heart, since he cannot see David's. God's blessing graces equally together with men's malice ; neither can they devise which way to make us more happy, than by wishing us evil. CONTEMPLATION VI MICHAE S WILE. This advantage can Saul yet make of David's promotion, that as his adversary is raised higher, so he is drawn nearer to the opportunity of death. Now hath his envy cast off all shame ; and, since those crafty plots succeed not, he directly suborns mur derers of his rival. There is none in all the court that is not set on to bean executioner. Jonathan himself is solicited to embrue his hand in the blood of his friend, of his bro ther. Saul could not but see Jonathan's clothes on David's back ; he could not but know the league of their love ; yet, because he knew withal how much the prosperity of David would prejudice Jonathan, he hoped to have found him his son in malice. Those that have the jaundice see all things yellow : CONT. VI.] MICHAL'S WILE. 191 those which are overgrown with malicious passions, think all men like themselves. I do not hear of any reply that Jonathan made to his father, when he gave him that bloody charge; but he waits for a fit time to dissuade him from so cruel an injustice. Wisdom had taught him to give way to rage, and, in so hard an adventure, to crave aid of opportunity, ff we be not careful to observe good moods when we deal with the passionate, we may exasperate, instead of reforming. Thus did Jonathan, who, knowing how much better it is to be a good friend, than an ill son, had not only dis closed that ill counsel, but, when he found his father in the fields in a calmer temper, laboured to divert it. And so far doth the seasonable and pithy oratory of Jonathan prevail, that Saul is convinced of his wrong, and swears, " As God lives, David shall not die." Indeed, how could it be other wise, upon the plea of David's innocence and well-deservings ? How could Saul say, he should die, whom he could accuse of nothing hut faithfulness? why should he design him to death, which had given life to all Israel ? Ofttimes wicked men's judg ments are forced to yield unto that truth against which their affections maintain a rebellion. Even the foulest hearts do some times entertain good motions : likeas, on the contrary, the holiest souls give way sometimes to the suggestions of evil. The flashes of lightning may be discerned in the darkest prisons. But if good thoughts look into a wicked heart, they stay not there ; as those that like not their lodging, they are soon gone : hardly any thing distinguishes betwixt good and evil, but continuance. The light that shines into a holy heart is constant, like that of the sun, which keeps due times, and varies not his course for any of these sublunary occasions. The Philistines' wars renew David's vic tories, and David's victory renews Saul's envy, and Saul's envy renews the plots of David's death. Vows and oaths are for gotten. That evil spirit which vexes Saul hath found so much favour with him, as to win him to these bloody machinations against an innocent : his own hands shall first be employed in this execution ; the spear, which hath twice before threatened death to David, shall now once again go upon that message. Wise David, that knew the danger of a hollow friend, and reconciled enemy, and that found more cause to mind Saul's earnest, than his own play, gives way by his nimbleness to that deadly weapon, and, resigning that stroke unto the wall, flies for his life. No man knows how to be sure of an unconscion able man. If either goodness or merit, or affinity, or reasons, or oaths, could secure a man, David had been safe ; now, if his heels do no more befriend him than all these, he is a dead man. No sooner is he gone, than messengers are sped after him. It hath been seldom seen that wickedness wanted executioners : David's house is be set with murderers, which watch at all his doors for the opportunity of blood. Who can but wonder to see how God hath fetched from the loins of Saul a remedy for the ma lice of Saul's heart? His own children are the only means to cross him in the sin, and to preserve his guiltless adversary. Michal hath more than notice of the plot, and with her subtle wit countermines her father, for the rescue of a husband ; she taking the be nefit of the night, lets David down through a window : he is gone, and disappoints the ambushes of Saul. The messengers begin to be impatient of this delay, and now think it time to inquire after their prisoner : she puts them off with the excuse of David's sickness, so as now her husband had good leisure for his escape, and lays a statue in his bed. Saul likes the news of any evil befallen to David ; but, fearing he is not sick enough, sends to aid his disease. The messengers return, and rushing into the house with their swords drawn, after some harsh words to their imagined charge, sur prise a sick statue lying with a pillow under his head ; and now blush to see they have spent all their threats upon a senseless stock, and made themselves ridiculous, while they would be serviceable. But how shall Michal answer this mock- age unto her furious father ? Hitherto she hath done like David's wife ; now she be gins to be Saul's daughter : " He said to me, Let me go, or else I will kill thee." She, whose wit had delivered her husband from the sword of her father, now turns the edge of her father's wrath from herself to her husband. His absence made her pre sume of his safety. If Michal had not been of Saul's plot, he had never expostulated with her in those terms : " Why hast thou let mine enemy escape ?" Neither had she framed that answer, " He said, Let me go." I do not find any great store of re ligion in Michal : for, both she had an image in the house, and afterward mocked David for his devotion ; yet nature hath taught her to prefer a husband to a father: to elude a father, from whom she could not fly ; to save a husband, who durst not but fly from her. The bonds of matrimonial love are, and should be, stronger than those of 192 MICHAL'S WILE. [Book XIII- nature. Those respects are mutual which God appointed in the first institution of wedlock, that -husband and wife should leave father and mother for each other's sake. Treason is ever odious ; but so much more in the marriage-bed, by how much the obligations are deeper. As she loved her husband better than her father, so she loved herself better than her husband : she saved her husband by a wile ; and now she saves herself by a lie, and loses half the thank of her deliverance by an officious slander. Her act was good, but she wants courage to maintain it ; and therefore seeks to the weak shelter of un truth. Those that do good offices, not out of conscience, but good nature or civility, if they meet an affront of danger, seldom come off cleanly, but are ready to catch at all excuses, though base, though injurious ; because their grounds are not strong enough to bear them out in suffering for that which they have well done. Whither doth David fly, but to the sanc- ' tuary of Samuel ? He doth not (though he knew himself gracious with the soldiers) raise forces, or take some strong fort, and there stand upon his own defence, and at defiance with his king : but he gets him to the college of the prophets, as a man that would seek the peaceable protection of the King of heaven, against the unjust fury of a king on earth : only the wing of God shall hide him from that violence. God intended to make David not a war rior and a king only, but a prophet too. As the field fitted him for the first, and the court for the second, so Najoth shall fit him for the third. Doubtless, such was David's delight in holy meditations, he never spent his time so contentedly, as when he was retired to that divine academy, and had so full freedom to enjoy God, and to satiate himself with heavenly exercises. The only doubt is, how Samuel can give harbour to a man fled from the anger of his prince ; wherein the very persons of both give abun dant satisfaction; for both Samuel knew the counsel of God, and durst do nothing without it ; and David was by Samuei anointed from God. This unction was a mu tual bond. Good reason had David to sue to him which had poured the oil on his head, for the hiding of that head which he had anointed : and good reason had Samuel to hide him, whom God by his means had chosen, from him whom God by his sen tence had rejected : besides that, the cause deserved commiseration. Here was not a malefactor running away from justice, but an innocent avoiding murder ; not a traitor countenanced against his sovereign, but the deliverer of Israel harboured in a sanctuary of prophets till his peace might be made. Even thither doth Saul send to appre hend David. All his rage did not incense him against Samuel as the abettor of his adversary: such an impression of reverence had the person and calling of the prophet left in the mind of Saul, that he cannot think of lifting up his hand against him. The same God who did at the first put an awe of man in the fiercest creatures, hath stamped in the cruellest hearts a reverend respect to his own image in his ministers ; j so as even they that hate them, do yet ho-''. nour them. Saul's messengers came to lay hold on David : God lays hold on them. No sooner do they see a company of prophets busy in these divine exercises, under the modera tion of Samuel, than they are turned from executioners to prophets. It is good going up to Najoth, into the holy assemblies : who knows how we may be changed, be side our intentions ? Many a one hath come into God's house to carp, or scoff, or sleep, or gaze, that hath returned a convert. The same heart, that was thus disquieted with David's happy success,' is now vexed with the holiness of his other servants. It angers him that God's Spirit could find no other time to seize upon his agents, than when he had sent them to kill ; and now, out of an indignation at this disappoint ment, himself will go, and be his own ser vant ; his guilty soul finds itself out of the danger of being thus surprised ; and behold, Saul is no sooner come within the smell of the smoke of Najoth, than he also prophe sies : the same spirit that, when he went first from Samuel, enabled him to prophesy, returns in the same effect, now that he was going his last unto Samuel. This was such . a grace as might well stand with rejection ; an extraordinary gift of the Spirit, but not sanctifying. Many men have had their mouths opened to prophesy unto others* whose hearts have been deaf to God. But this, such as it was, was far from Saul's purpose, who, instead of expostulating with Samuel, falls down before him ; and laying aside his weapons and his robes, of a tyrant proves for the time a disciple. All hearts are in the hands of their Maker : how easy is it for him that gave them their being, to frame them to his own bent ! Who can be afraid of malice, that knows what hooks God hath in the nostrils of men and devils ? what charms he hath for the most serpen tine hearts? ! Cont. VIL] DAVID AND AHIMELECH. 1 93 CONTEMPLATION VII. — DAVID AND AHIMELECH. Who can ever judge of the cbildren by the parents, that knows Jonathan was the son of Saul ! There was never a falser heart than Saul's : there was never a truer friend than Jonathan : neither the hope of a kingdom, nor the frowns of a father, nor the fear of death, can remove him from his vowed amity. No son could be more offi cious and dutiful to a good father ; yet he lays down nature at the foot of grace, and, for the preservation of his innocent rival for the kingdom, crosses the bloody designs of his own parent. David needs no other counsellor, no other advocate, no other in telligencer, than he. It is not in the power of Saul's unnatural reproaches, or of his . spear, to make Jonathan any other than a friend and patron of innocence. Even, after all these difficulties, doth Jonathan shoot beyond David, that Saul may shoot short of him. In vain are those profes sions of love, which are not answered with action. He is ho true friend, that, besides talk, is not ready both to do and suffer. Saul is no whit the better for his pro phesying : he no sooner rises up from before Samuel, than he pursues David. Wicked men are rather the worse for those transi tory good motions they have received. If the swine be never so clean washed, she will wallow again. That we have good thoughts, it is no thank to us ; that we answer them not, it is both our sin and judgment. David hath learned not to trust these fits of devotion, but flies from Samuel to Jona than, from Jonathan to Ahimelech : when he was hunted from the prophet, he flies to the priest, as one that knew justice and compassion should dwell in those breasts which are consecrated unto God. The ark and the tabernacle were then separated j the ark was at Kirjath-jearim, the tabernacle at Nob ; God was present with both. Whither should David flee for succour, but to the house of that God which had anointed him ? Ahimelech was wont to see David at tended with the troops of Israel, or with the gallants of the court ; it seems strange therefore to him, to see so great a peer and champion of Israel come alone. These are the alterations to which earthly greatness is subject. Not many days are passed, since no man was honoured at court but Jonathan and David r now they are both for the time in disgrace ; now dare not the king's son-in-law, brother to the prince both in love and in marriage, show his head at the Court; nor any of those that bowed to him dare stir a foot with him. Princes are as the sun, and great subjects are like to dials : if the sun shine not on the dial, no man will look at it. Even he that overcame the bear, the lion, the giant, is overcome with fear. He that had cut off two hundred foreskins of the Philistines, had not circumcised his own heart of the weak passions that follow distrust : now that he is hard driven, he practises to help himself with an unwar rantable shift. Who can look to pass this pilgrimage without infirmities, when David dissembleth to Ahimelech ? A weak man's rules may be better than the best man's actions. God lets us see some blemishes in his holiest servants, that we may neither be too highly conceited of flesh and blood, nor too much dejected when we have been miscarried into sin. Hitherto hath David gone upright; now he begins to halt with the priest of God, and under pretence of Saul's employment, draws that favour from Ahimelech, which shall afterwards cost him his head. What could Ahimelech have thought too dear for God's anointed, God's cham pion ? It is not like but that, if David had sincerely opened himself to the priest as he had done to the prophet, Ahimelech would have seconded Samuel in some secret and safe succour of so unjust a distress, whereas he is now, by a false colour, led to that kindness which shall be prejudicial to his life. Extremities of evil are commonly in considerate ; either for that we have not leisure to our thoughts, or perhaps (so we may be perplexed) not thoughts to our leisure. WhatwouldDavidhave given after wards to have redeemed this oversight ! Under this pretence, he craves a double favour of Ahimelech ; the one of bread for his sustenance, the other of a sword for his defence. There was no bread under the hands of the priest, but that which was consecrated to God, and whereof none might taste but the devoted servants of the altar ; even that which Was, with solemn dedication, set upon the holy tables before the face of God ; a sacramental bread pre sented to God with incense, figuring that true bread that came down from heaven : yet even this bread might, in case of ne cessity, become common, and be given by Ahimelech, and received by David and his followers. Our Saviour himself justifies the act of both. Ceremonies must give place to substance. God will have mercy N 194 DAVID AND AHIMELECH. [Book XIII and not sacrifice. Charity is the sum and the endof the law, that must be aimed at in all our actions, wherein it may fall out, that the way to keep the law may be to break it; the intention may be kept, and the letter violated ; and it may be a danger ous transgression of the law to observe the words, and neglect the scope of God. That which would have dispensed with David for the substance of the act, would have much more dispensed with him for the circum stance : the touch of their lawful wives had contracted a legal impurity, not a moral : that could have been no sufficient reason, why in an urgent necessity they might not have partaken of the holy bread. Ahime lech was no perfect casuist : these men might not famish, if they were ceremonially impure. But this question bewrayed the care of Ahimelech in distributing the holy bread. There might be in these men a double incapacity; the one as they were seculars, the other as unclean : he saw the one must be, he feared lest the other should be ; as one that wished as little indisposi tion as possible might be, in those which should be fed from God's table. It is strange that David should come to the priest of God for a sword : who in all Israel was so unlikely to furnish him with weapons, as a man of peace, whose armour was only spiritual ? Doubtless David knew well where Goliah's sword lay, as the noble relic of God's victorious deliverance, dedi cated to the same God which won it ; at this did that suit aim. None could be so fit for David, none could be so fit for it as David. Who could have so much right to that sword, as he against whom it was drawn, and by whom it was taken ? There was more in that sword than metal and form : David could never cast his eye upon it, but he saw an undoubted monument of the merciful protection of the Almighty ; there was therefore more strength in that sword, than sharpness : neither was David's arm so much strengthened by it, as his faith ; nothing can overcome him, while he carries with him that assured sign of victory. It is good to take all occasions of renewing the remembrance of God's mercies to us, and our obligations to him. Doeg, fh^.master of Saul's herdmen (for he, that went to seek his father's asses before he was king, hath herds and droves now that he is a king), was now in the court of the tabernacle, upon some occasion of devotion : though an Israelite in profession, he was an Edomite no less inheart than in blood ; yet he hath some vow upon him, and not only comes up to God's house, but abides before the Lord. Hypocrites have equal access to the public places and means of God's service. Even he that knows the heart, yet shuts his door upon none : how much less should we dare to exclude any, which can only judge of the heart by the face! Doeg may set his foot as far within the tabernacle as David i. he sees the passages betwixt him and Ahimelech, and lays them up for an advantage : while he should have edified himself by those holy services, he carps at the priest of God, and, after a lewd misinterpretation of his actions, of an attendant, proves an accuser. To incur favour with an unjust master, he informs against innocent Ahimelech, and makes that his act, which was drawn from him by a cunning circumvention. When we see our auditors before us, little do we know with what hearts they are there, or what use they will make of their pretended de votion. Ifmanycomein simplicity of heart to serve their God, some others may per haps come to observe their teachers, and to pick quarrels where none are : only God, and the issue, can distinguish betwixt a Da vid and a Doeg, when they are both in the tabernacle. Honest Ahimelech could little suspect, that he now offered a sacrifice for his executioner, yea, for the murderer of all his family. O the wise and deep judgments of the Almighty ! God owed a revenge to the house of Eli, and now, by the delation of Doeg, he takes occasion to pay it. It was just in God, which in Doeg was most unjust. Saul's cruelty, and the treachery of Doeg, do not lose one dram of their guilt by the counsel of God ; neither doth the holy counsel of God gather any blemish by their wickedness. If it had pleased God , to inflict death upon them .sooner, without any pretence of occasion, his justice had ! been clear from all imputations; now, if Saul and Doeg be instead of a pestilence ' or fever, who can cavil ? The judgments of God are not open, but are always just : he knows how by one man's sin to punish the sin of another, and, by both their sins and punishments, to glorify himself. If his word sleep, it shall not die, but after long inter missions break forth in those effects which we had forgotten to look for, and ceased to - fear. O Lord ! thou art sure when thou threatenest, and just when thou judgest ! Keep thou us from the sentence of death, else, in vain we shall labour to keep our selves from the execution ! CONT. I.] SAUL IN DAVID'S CAVE. 195 BOOK XIV. CONTEMPLATION I SAUL IN DAVID'S CAVE. It was the strange lot of David, that those whom he pursued, preserved him from those whom he had preserved. The Philistines, whom David had newly smitten in Keilah, call off Saul from smiting David in the wil derness, when there was but a hillock be twixt him and death. Wicked purposes are easily checked, not easily broken off. Saul's sword is scarce dry from the blood of the Philistines, when it thirsts anew for the Wood of David, and now, in a renewed chace, hunts him dry-foot through every wilderness. The very desert is too fair a refuge for innocence. The hills and rocks are searched in an angry jealousy ; the very wild goats ofthe mountains were not allow ed to be companions for him, who had no fault but his virtue. O the seemingly un equal distribution of these earthly things ! Cruelty and oppression reign in a palace, while goodness lurks among the rocks and caves, and thinks it happiness enough to steal a life. Like a dead man, David is fain to be hid under the earth, and seeks the comfort of protection in darkness : and now the wise providence of God leads Saul to his enemy without blood. He, which before brought them within a hill's distance without inter view, brings them now both within one roof; so as that, while Saul seeks David and finds him not, he is found of David unsought. If Saul had known his own opportunities, how David and his men had interred themselves, he had saved a treble labour of chace, of execution, and burial; for had he but stopt the mouth of that cave, his enemies had laid themselves down in their own graves. The wisdom of God thinks fit to hide from evil men and spirits, those means and seasons, which might be, if they had been taken, most prejudicial to his own. We had been oft foiled, if Satan could but have known our hearts. Some times we lie open to evils, and happy it is for us, that he only knows it, who pities instead of tempting us. It is not long since Saul said of David, lodged then in Keilah, God hath delivered him into mine hands, for he is shut in, seeing he is come into a city that hath gates and bars; but now contrarily God delivers Saul, ere he was aware, into the hands of David, and without the help of gates and bars, hath inclosed him within the valley of death, How just is it with God, that those who Seek mischief to others, find it to themselves, and, even while they are spreading nets, are ensnared, their deliberate plotting of evil is surprised with a sudden judgment. How amazedly must David needs look, when he saw Saul enter into the cave where himself was I What is this, thinks he, which God hath done ? is this presence purposed or casual ? is Saul here to pursue or to tempt me ? where suddenly the action bewrays the intent, and tells David, that Saul sought secrecy and Hot him. The superfluity of his maliciousness brought him into the wilderness ; the necessity of na ture led hiih into the cave. Even those actions, wherein we place shame, are not exempted from a providence. The fingers of David's followers itched to seize upon their master's enemy r and that they might not seem led so much by faction as by faith, they urge David with a promise from God : The day is come, whereof the Lord saith unto thee, Behold, I will deliver thine ene my into thine hand, and thou shalt do unto him as it shall seem good to thee. This argument seemed to carry such com mand with it, as that David not only may, but must imbrue his hands in blood, unless he will be found wanting to God and him self. Those temptations are most powerful, which fetch their force from the pretence of a religious obedience : whereas those which are raised from arbitrary and private respects, admit of an easy dispensation. If there was such a prediction, one clause of it was ambiguous, and they take it at the worst : Thou shalt do to him as shall seem good to thee. That might not.seem good to him, which seemed evil unto God. There is nothing more dangerous than to make construction of God's purposes out of even tual appearance. If carnal probabilities might be the rule of our judgment, what could God seem to intend other than Saul's death, in offering him naked into the hands of those whom he unjustly persecuted? How could David's soldiers think that God hath sent Saul thither on any other errand, than to fetch his bane ? And if Saul could have seen his own danger, he had given himself for dead : for his heart, guilty to his own bloody desire, could not but have ex pected the same measure which it meant. But wise and holy David, not transported either with misconceit of the event, or fury of passion, or solicitation of his followers, dares make no other use of this accident than the trial of his loyalty, and the iris ducement of his peace. It had been as- easy for him to cut the throat of Saul as n2 196 SAUL IN DAVID'S CAVE. [Book XIV. his garment ; but now his coat only shall be the worse, not his person; neither doth he in this maiming of a cloak seek his own revenge, but a monument of his innocence. Before Saul rent Samuel's garment : now David cutteth Saul's; both were signifi cant : the rending of the one, signified the kingdom torn out of those unworthy hands ; the cutting of the other, that the life of Saul might have been as easily cut off. Saul needs no other monitor of his own danger than what he wears. The upper garment of Saul was laid aside while he went to cover his feet, so as the cut of the garment did not threaten any touch of the body ; yet even the violence offered to a remote garment strikes the heart of David, which finds a present remorse for harmfully touching that which once touched the person of his master. Tender consciences are moved to regret at those actions, which strong hearts pass over with a careless ease. It troubled not Saul to seek after the blood of a righteous servant. There is no less difference of consciences than stomachs : some stomachs will digest the hardest meats, and turn over substances, not in their nature edible, while others surfeit of the lightest food, and complain even of dainties. Every gracious heart is in some measure scrupulous, and finds more safety in fear than in presumption : and if it be so straight as to curb itself in from the liberty which it might take in things which are not unlawful, how much less will it dare to take scope unto evil ! By how much that state is better, where nothing is allowed, than where all things, by so much is the strict and timorous conscience better than the lawless. There is good likelihood of that man who is any ways scrupulous of his ways : but he, who makes no bones of liis actions, is apparently hopeless. Since David's followers pleaded God's testimony to him as a motive to blood, David appeals to the same God for his pre servation from blood : The Lord keep me from doing that thing to my master, the Lord's anointed. And now the good man liath work enough to defend both himself and his persecutor : himself from the im portunate necessity of doing violence, and his master from suffering it. It was not more easy to rule his own hands, than diffi cult to rule a multitude. David's troops consisted of malcontents ; all that were in distress, in bitterness of soul, were gathered to him. Many, if never so well ordered, are hard to command ; a few, if disorderly, more hard ; many and disorderly must needs be so much the hardest of all, that David never achieved any victory like unto this, wherein he first overcame himself, then his soldiers. And what was the charm wherewith David allayed those raging spirits of his followers ? No other but this, He is the anointed of the Lord. That holy oil was the antidote for his blood : Saul did not lend David so impierceable an armour, when he should encounter Goliah, as Da vid now lent him in this plea of his unction. Which of all the discontented outlaws that lurked in that cave durst put forth his hand against Saul, when they once heard, He is the Lord's anointed ? Such an impression of awe hath the divine Providence caused his image to make in the hearts of men, as that it makes traitors cowards, so as instead of striking they tremble; how much more lawless, than the outlaws of Israel, are those professed ring-leaders of Christianity, which teach, and practise, and encourage, and re ward, and canonize the violation of ma jesty ! It is not enough for those, who are commanders of others, to refrain1 their own hands from doing evil, but they must care fully prevent the iniquity of their heels, else they shall be justly reputed to do that by others, which, in their own persons, they avoided. The laws both of God and man pre-suppose us in some sort answerable for our charge ; as taking it for granted, that we should not undertake those reins which we cannot manage. There was no reason David should lose the thanks of so noble a demonstration of his loyalty, whereto he trusts so much, that he dares call back the man by whom he was pursued, and make him judge, whether that fact had not deserved a life. As his act, so his word and gesture, imported no thing but humble obedience ; neither was there more meekness than force in that seasonable persuasion, wherein he lets Saul see the error of his credulity ; the unjust slanders of maliciousness, the opportunity of his revenge, the proof of "his forbear ance, the undeniable evidence of his inno cence ; and, after a lowly disparagement of himself, appeals to God for judgment, for protection. So lively and feeling oratory did Saul find in the lap of his garment, and the lips of David, that it is not in the power of his envy, or ill nature, to hold out any longer. " Is this thy voice, my son David ? And Saul lift up his voice and wept, and said, Thou art more righteous than I." He whose harp was wont to quiet the frenzy of Saul, hath now by his words calmed his fury : so that now he sheds tears in- Cont. IL] NABAL AND ABIGAIL. 197 stead of blood, and confesses his own wrong, and David's integrity ; and, as if he were now again entered into the bounds of Na joth in Ramah, he prays and prophesies good to him, whom he maliced for good : " The Lord render thee good for that thou hast done to me this day ; for now, behold, I know that thou shalt be king." There is no heart made of flesh, that some time or other relents not ; even flint and marble will, in some weather, stand on drops. I cannot think these tears and pro testations feigned. Doubtless Saul meant as he-said, and passed through sensible fits of good and evil. Let no man think him self the better for good motions. The praise and benefit of those guests is not in the receipt but the retention- Who, that had seen this meeting, could but have thought that all had been sure on David's side ? What can secure us, if not tears, and prayers, and oaths ? Doubtless David's men, which knew themselves ob noxious to laws and creditors, began to think of some new refuge, as making ac count this new-pieced league would be ever lasting : they looked when Saul would take David home to the court, and dissolve his army, and recompense that unjust perse cution with just honour ; when, behold, in the loose, Saul goes home, but David and his men go up unto the hold. Wise David knows Saul not to be more kind than untrusty ; and therefore had rather seek safety in his hold, than in the hold of a hollow and unsteady friendship. Here are good words, but no security; which therefore an experienced man gives the hearing, but stands the while upon his guard. No charity binds us to a trust of those whom we have found faithless. Cre dulity upon weak grounds, after palpable disappointments, is the daughter of folly. A man that is weatherwise, though he find an abatement of the storm, yet will not stir from under his shelter, while he sees it thick in the wind. Distrust is the just gain of unfaithfulness. CONTEMPLATION II NABAL AND ABIGAIL. If innocency could have secured from Saul's malice, David had not been perser cuted ; and yet, under that wicked king, aged Samuel dies in his bed. That there might be no place for envy, the good pro phet had retired himself to the schools. Yet he, that hated David for what he should be, did no less hate Samuel for what he bad been. Even in the midst of Saul's malignity, there remained in his heart im pressions of awfulness unto Samuel ; he feared where he loved not. The restraint of God curbeth the rage of his most violent enemies, so as they cannot do their worst. As good husbands do not put all their corn to the oven, but save some for seed, so doth God ever in the worst of persecutions. Samuel is dead, David banished, Saul ty- rannizeth : Israel hath good cause to mourn. It is no marvel if this lamentation be uni versal : there is no Israelite that feeleth not the loss of a Samuel. A good prophet is the common treasure, wherein every gra cious soul hath a share. That man hath a dry heart, which can part with God's prophet without tears. Nabal was, according to his name, fool ish, yet rich and mighty. Earthly posses sions are not always accompanied with wit and grace. Even the line of faithful Caleb will afford an ill-conditioned Nabal. Virtue is not, like unto lands, inheritable. All that is traduced with the seed, is either evil or not good. Let no man brag with the Jews, that he hath Abraham to his father : God hath raised up of this stone a son to Caleb. Abigail (which signifies her father's joy) had sorrow enough, to be matched with so unworthy an husband. If her father had meant she should have had joy in herself, or in her life, he had not disposed her to an husband, though rich, yet fond and wicked : it is like he married her to the wealth, not to the man. Many a child is cast away upon riches. Wealth, in our matches, should be as some grains or scruples in the balance, superadded to the gold of virtuous qualities, to weigh down, the scales : when it is made the substance of the weight, and good qua lities' the appendance, there is but one earth poised with another ; which, wheresoever it is done, it is a wonder if either the chil dren prove not the parents' sorrow, or the parents theirs. Nabal's sheep-shearing was famous : three thousand fleeces must needs require many hands ; neither is any thing more plentiful, commonly, than a churl's feast. What a world was this, that the noble champion and rescuer of Israel, God's anointed, is driven to send to a base carle for victuals ! It is no measuring of men by the depth of the purse, by outward prosperity. Servants are ofttimes set on horseback, while princes go on foot. Our estimation must be led by their inward worth, which is not alter able by time, nor diminished with external conditions. One rag of a David is more worth than 198 NABAL AND ABIGAIL. [Book XIV. the wardrobes of a thousand Nabals, Even the best deservings may want. No man should be contemned for his necessity; per haps he may be so much richer in grace, as he is poorer in estate : neither hath violence or casualty more impoverished a David, than his poverty hath enriched him. He, whose folly hath made himself miserable, is justly rewarded with neglect ; but he that suffers for good, deserves so much more honour from others, as his distress is more. Our compassion or respect must be ruled ac cording to the cause of another's misery. One good turn requires another. In some cases, not hurting is meritorious. He that should examine the qualities of David's followers, must needs grant it worthy of a fee, that Nabal's flocks lay untouched in Carmel ; but more, that David's soldiers were Nabal's shepherds ; yea, the keepers of his shepherds gave them a just interest in that sheep-shearing feast ; justly should they have been set at the upper end of the table. That Nabal's sheep were safe, he might Aiank his shepherds ; that his shep herds were safe, he might thank David's soldiers. It is no small benefit that we receive in a safe protection : well may we think our substance due, where we owe our selves. Yet this churlish Nabal doth not only give nothing to David's messengers, but, which is worse than nothing, ill words : " Who is David, or who is the son of Jesse ? There be many servants now-a-days that break away from their masters." David asked him bread, he giveth him stones. All Israel knew and honoured their deliverer ; yet this clown, to save his victuals, will needs make him a man either of no merits or ill, either an obscure man or a fugitive. Nothing is more cheap than good words : these Nabal might have given, and been never the poorer. If he had been resolved to shut his hands, in a fear of Saul's re venge, he might have so tempered his de nial, that the repulse might have been free from offence ; but now his foul mouth doth not only deny, but revile. It should have been Nabal's glory, that his tribe yielded such a successor to the throne of Israel : now, in all likelihood, his envy stirs him up to disgrace that man who surpassed him in honour and virtue, more than he was sur passed by him in wealth and ease. Many a one speaks fair, that means ill ; but when the mouth speaks foul, it argues a corrupt heart. If, with St. James's verbal bene factors, we say only, Depart in peace, warm yourselves, fill your bellies, we shall answer for hypocritical uncharitableness ; but if we rate and curse those needy souls whom we aught to relieve, we shall give a more fear ful account of a savage cruelty, in trampling on those whom God hath humbled. If healing with good words be justly punish able, what torment is there for those that wound with evil ? David, which had all this while been in the school of patience, hath now his lesson to seek : he, who hath happily digested all the railings and persecutions of a wicked master, cannot put up this affront of a Na bal: nothing can assuage his choler, but blood. How subject are the best of God's saints to weak passions ; and if we have the grace to ward an expected blow of temp tation, how easily are we surprised with a sudden foil ! Wherefore serve these recorded weak nesses of holy men, but to strengthen us against the conscience of our infirmities ? Not that we should take courage to imitate them in the evil whereunto they have been miscarried ; but we should take heart to ourselves against the discouragement of our own evils. The wisdom of God hath so contrived it, that commonly, in societies, good is mixed with evil : wicked Nabal hath in his house a wise and good servant, a prudent and worthy wife ; that wise servant is care ful to advertise his mistress of the danger ; his prudent mistress is careful to prevent it. The fives of all his family were now in hazard. She dares not commit this busi ness to the fidelity of a messenger, but, for getting her sex, puts herself into the errand. Her foot is not slow, her hand is not emp ty ; according to the offence, she frames her satisfaction. Her husband refused to give, she brings a bountiful gift ; her husband gave ill words, she sweetens them with a meek and humble deprecation ; her husband could say, " Who is David?" she falls at his feet ; her husband dismisses David's men empty, she brings her servants laden with provi sions, as if it had been only meant to ease the repelled messengers of the carriage, not to scant them of the required benevolence : no wit, no art, could devise a more pithy and powerful oratory. As all satisfaction, so hers, begins with a confession, wherein she deeply blameth the folly of her hus band ; she could not have been a good wife, if she had not honoured her unworthy head. If a stranger should have termed him fool in her hearing, he could not have gone away in peace ; now, £o save his life, she is bold to acknowledge his folly. It is a good dis paragement that preserveth. There is the same way to our peace in heaven. The only means to escape judgment, is to com- CoNT. IL] NABAL AND ABIGAIL. 199 plain of our own vileness : she pleadeth her ignorance of the fact, and therein their free dom from the offence ; she humbly craveth acceptation of her present, with pardon of the fault ; she professeth David's honour able acts and merits ; she foretells his fu ture success and glory ; she lays before him the happy peace of his soul, in refraining from innocent blood. David's breast, which could not, through the seeds of grace, grow to a stubbornness in ill resolutions, cannot but relent with these powerful and season able persuasions ; and now, instead of re venge, he blesseth God for sending Abigail to meet him ; he blesseth Abigail for her counsel ; he blesseth the counsel for so wholesome efficacy ; and now rejoiceth more in being overcome with a wise and gracious advice, than he would" have re joiced in a revengeful victory. A good heart is easily stayed from sin ning, and is glad when it finds occasion to be crossed in ill purposes. Those secret checks, which are raised within itself, do readily conspire with all outward retentives : it never yielded to a wicked motion, with out much reluctation ; and when it is over come, it is but with half a consent : whereas perverse and obdurate sinners, by reason they take full delight in evil, and have already in their conceit swallowed the plea sure of sin, abide not to be resisted, running on headily in those wicked courses they have propounded, in spite of opposition ; and, if they be forcibly stopped in their way, they grow sullen and mutinous. David had not only vowed, but deeply sworn, the death of Nabal, and all his family, to the very dog that lay at his door ; yet now he praiseth God, that hath given the occa sion and grace to violate it. Wicked vows are ill made, but worse kept. Our tongue cannot tie us to commit sin. Good men think themselves happy, that since they had not the grace to deny sin, yet they had not the opportunity to accomplish it. If Abigail had sat still at home, David had sinned, and she had died. Now her discreet admonition hath preserved her from the sword, and diverted him from bloodshed. And now, what thanks, what benedictions, hath she for this seasonable counsel? How should it encourage us to admonish our brethren, to see that, if we prevail, we have blessings from them ; if we prevail not, we have yet blessings from God, and thanks of our own hearts ! How near was Nabal to a mischief, and perceives it not ! David was coming to the foot of the hill to cut his throat, while he was feasting in his house without fear. Little do sinners know how near their jollity is to perdition. Many times judg ment is at the threshold, while drunkenness and surfeit are at the board. Had he been any other than a Nabal, he had not sat down to feast, till he had been sure of his peace with David. Either not to expect danger, or not to clear it, was sottish ; so foolish are carnal men, that give themselves over to their pleasures, while there are deadly quarrels depending against them in heaven. There is nothing wherein wisdom is more seen, than in the temperate use of prosperity. A Nabal cannot abound but he must be drunk and surfeit. Excess is a true argument of folly. We use to say, that when drink is in, wit is out ; but if wit were not out, drink would not be in. It was no time to -advise Nabal, while his reason was drowned in a deluge of wine. A beast, or a stone, is as capable of good counsel as a drunkard. O that the noblest creature should so far abase himself, as, for a little liquor, to lose the use of those faculties whereby he is a man ! Those, that have to do with drink or frenzy, must be glad to watch times ; so did Abigail, who, the next morning, presents to her hus band the view of his faults, of his danger ; he then sees how near he was to death, and felt it not. That worldly mind is so apprehensive of the death that should have been, as that he dies to think that he had like to have died. Who would think a man could be so affected with a danger past, and yet so senseless of a future, yea, imminent ? He that was yesternight as a beast, is now as a stone : he was then over- merry, now dead and lumpish. Carnal hearts are ever in extremities : if they be once down, their dejection is desperate, because they have no inward comfort to mitigate their sorrow. What difference there was betwixt the dispositions of David and Nabal I How oft had David been in the valley of the shadow of death, and feared no evil ! Nabal is but once put in mind of a death that might have been, and is stricken dead. It is just with God, that they who live without grace, should die without comfort ; neither can we expect better, while we go on in our sins. The speech of Abigail smote Nabal into a qualm : that tongue hath doubtless oft advised him well, and prevailed not ; now it occasions his death, whose reformation it could not effect : she meant nothing but his amendment; God meant to make that loving instrument the means of his revenge. She speaks, and God strikes ; and within ten days, that swoon 200 DAVID AND ACHISH. [Book XIV. ends in death. And now Nabal pays dear for his uncharitable reproach, for his riotous excess. That God, which would not suffer David to right himself by his own sword, takes the quarrel of his servant into his own hand : David hath now his ends without sin, rejoicing in the just executions of God, who would neither suffer him to sin in re venging, nor suffer his adversaries to sin unrevenged. Our loving God is more angry with the wrongs done to his servants than themselves can be, and knows how to punish that justly, which we could not undertake with out wronging God more than men have wronged us. He that saith, " Vengeance is mine, I will repay," repays ofttimes when we have forgiven, when we have forgotten ; and calls to reckoning after our discharges. It is dangerous offending any favourite of him whose displeasure and revenge is ever lasting. How far God looks beyond our pur poses ! Abigail came only to plead for an ill husband, and now God makes this jour ney a preparation for a better : so that, in one act, she preserved an ill husband, and won a good one for the future, David well remembers her comely person, her wise speeches, her graceful carriage ; and now, when modesty found it seasonable, he sends to sue her who had been his suppliant. She entreated for her husband; David treats with her for his wife. Her request was to es.cape his sword ; he wisheth her to his bed. It was a fair suit to change a David for a Nabal ; to become David's queen, in stead of Nabal's drudge. She that learned humility under so hard a tutor, abaseth her self no less when David offers to advance her : " Let thine handmaid be a servant, to wash the feet of the servants of my lord." None are so fit to be great, as those that can stoop lowest. How could David be more happy in a wife? he finds -at once piety, wisdom, humility, faithfulness, wealth, beauty. How could Abigail be more happy in a husband, than in the prophet, the champion, the anointed of God? Those marriages are well made, wherein virtues are matched, and happiness is mutual. CONTEMPLATION III. — DAVID AND ACHISH, Good motions that fall into wicked hearts are like some sparks that fall from the flint and steel into wet tinder, lightsome for the time, but soon out. After Saul's tears and protestations, yet he is now again in the wilderness, with three thousand men, to hunt after innocent David. How invincible is the charity and loyalty of an honest heart ! The same hand that spared Saul in the cave, spares him sleeping in the field : the same hand that cut away the lap of his master's garment, carries away his spear; that spear, which might as well have carried away the life of the owner, is only borne away for the proof of the fidelity of the bearer. Still Saul is strong, but David victorious, and triumphs over the malice of his persecutor : yet still the victor flieth from him whom he hath overcome. A man that sees how far Saul was transported with his rancorous envy, cannot but say, that he was never more mad than when he was sober. For, even after he had said, " Blessed art thou, my son David, thou shalt do great things, and also prevail ;" yet still he pursues him whom he grants assured to prevail. What is this, but to resolve. to lose his labour in sinning, and in spite of himself to offend ? How shameful is our inequality of disposi tion to good ! We know we cannot miss of the reward of well-doing, and yet do it not. While wicked men cast away their endea vours upon evil projects, whereof they are sure to fail, sin blinds the eyes and har dens the heart, and thrusts men into wilful mischiefs, however dangerous, however im possible, and never leaves them till it have brought them to utter confusion. The over-long continuance of a tempta tion may easily weary the best patience, and may attain that by protraction which it could never do by violence. David him self at last begins to bend under this trial, and resplves so to fly from Saul, as he runs from the church of God ; and, while he will avoid the malice of his master, joins himself with God's enemies. The greatest saints upon earth are not always upon the same pitch of spiritual strength ; he that sometimes said, " I will not be afraid of ten thousands," now says, " I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul." He had wont to consult with God ; now he says thus in his own heart. How many evident experiments had David of God's deliver ances ! how certain and clear predictions of his future kingdom ! how infallible an earnest was the holy oil wherewith he was anointed to the crown of Israel ! And yet David said in his heart, " I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul," The best faith is but like the twilight, mixed with some degrees of darkness and infidelity. We do utterly misreckon the greatest earthly holiness, if we exempt it from infirmities. It is not long since David told Saul, that those wicked enemies of his, which cast CONT. III.] DAVID AND ACHISH. 201 him out from abiding in the inheritance of the Lord, did as good bid him, Go serve other gods ; yet now is he gone from the inheritance of God into the land of the Philistines. That Saul might seek him no more, he hides himself out ofthe list of the church, where a good man would not look for him. Once before had David fled to this Achish, when he was glad to scrabble on the doors, and let his spittle fall upon his beard, in a semblance of madness, that he might escape : yet now, in a semblance of friendship, is he returned to save that life which he was in danger to have lost in Israel. Goliah, the champion of the Phili stines, whom David slew, was of Gath : yet David dwells with Achish, king ofthe Phili stines, in Gath ; even amongst them whose foreskins he had presented to Saul, by two hundreds at once, doth David choose to reside for safety. Howsoever it was weak ness in David, thus, by his league of amity, to strengthen the enemies of God ; yet doth not God take advantage of it for his overthrow, but gives him protection even where his presence offended, and gives him favour where himself bore just hatred. O the infinite patience and mercy of our God, who doth good to us for our evil, and, in the very act of our provocation, upholdeth, yea blesseth us with preservation ! Could Saul have rightly considered it, he had found it no small loss and impairing to his kingdom, that so valiant a captain, at tended with six hundred able soldiers and their families, should forsake his land, and join with his enemies : yet he is not quiet till he have abandoned his own strength. The world hath none so great an enemy to a wicked man as himself: his hands cannot be held from his own mischief: he will needs make his friends enemies, his enemies vic tors, himself miserable. David was too wise to cast himself into the hands of a Philistine king, without as surance : what assurance could he have but promises ? Those David had from Saul abundantly, and trusted them not : he dares trust the fidelity of a pagan ; he dares not trust the vows of a king of Israel. There may be fidelity without the church, and falsehood within. It need not be any news to find some Turks true, and some Chris tians faithless. Even unwise men are taught by expe rience : how much more they who have wit to learn without it ! David had well found what it was to live in a court ; he, therefore, whom envy drove from the court of Israel, voluntarily declines the Philistine court, and sues for a country habitation. It had not been possible for so noted a stranger, after so much Philistine bloodshed, to live long in such an eminency amongst the press of those, whose sons, or brothers, or fathers, or allies, he had slaughtered, without some perilous machination of his ruin ; therefore he makes suit for an early remove: " For why should thy servant dwell in the chief city of the kingdom with thee ?" Those that would stand sure, must not affect too much height, or conspicuity : the tall cedars are most subject to winds and lightnings, while the shrubs ofthe val leys stand unmoved. Much greatness doth but make a fairer mark for evil. There is true firmness and safety in mediocrity. How rarely is it seen that a man loseth by his modesty ! The change fell out well to David, of Ziklag for Gath : now he hath a city of his own ; all Israel, where he was anointed, afforded him not so much pos session. Now the cit}-, which was anciently assigned to Judah, returns to the just owner, and is, by this means, entailed to the crown of David's successors. Besides that, now might David live out of the sight and hear ing of the Philistine idolatries, and enjoy God no less in the walls of a Philistine city than in an Israelitish wilderness : withal, a happy opportunity was now opened to his friends of Israel to resort unto his aid : the heads of the thousands that were of Ma nasseh, and many valiant captains of the other tribes, fell daily to him, and raised his six hundred followers to an army like the host of God. The deserts of Israel could never have yielded David so great an ad vantage. That God, whose the earth is, makes room for his own everywhere, and ofttimes provideth them a foreign home more kindly than the native. It is no matter for change of our soil, so we change not our God : if we can everywhere acknowledge him, he will nowhere be wanting to us. It was not for God's champion to be idle : no sooner is he free from Saul's sword, than he begins an offensive war against the Amalekites, Gerizites, Geshurites ; he knew these nations branded by God to destruc tion, neither could his increasing army be maintained with a little ; by one act there fore he both revenges for God, and provides for his host. Had it not been for that old quarrel, which God had with this people, David could not be excused for a bloody cruelty, in killing whole countries, only for the benefit of the spoil ; now his soldiers were at once God's executioners, and their own foragers. The intervention of a com mand from the Almighty alters the state of any act, and makes that worthy of praise, 202 DAVID AND ACHISH. [Book XIV. which else were no better than damnable. It is now justice, which were otherwise murder. The will of God is the rule of good : what need we inquire into other reasons of any act or determination, when we hear it comes from heaven ? How many hundred years had this brood of Canaanites lived securely in their coun try, since God commanded them to be rooted out, and now promised themselves the cer- tainest peace ! The Philistines were their friends, if not their lords : the Israelites had their hands full, neither did they know any grudge betwixt them and their neighbours, when suddenly the sword of David cuts them oft, and leaves none alive to tell the news. There is no safety in protraction : with men, delay causeth forgetfulness, or abates the force of anger, as all violent motions are weakest at the furthest ; but with Him, to whom all times are present, what can be gained by prorogation ? Alas ! what can it avail any of the cursed seed of Canaan, that they have made a truce with hea ven, and a league with hell ? Their day is coming, and is not the further off, because they expect it not. Miserable were the straits of David, while he was driven not only to maintain his army by spoil, but to colour his spoil by a sinful dissimulation : he tells Achish, that he had been roving against the south of Judah, and the south of the Jerahmeelites, and the south of the Kenites, either falsely or doubtfully, so as he meant to deceive him under whom he lived, and by whom he was trusted. If Achish were a Philistine, yet he was David's friend, yea his patron ; and if he had been neither, it had not become David to be false. The infirmities of God's children never appear but in their extremi ties. It is hard for the best man to say how far he will be tempted. If a man will put himself among Philistines, he cannot pro mise to come forth innocent. How easily do we believe that which we wish ! The more credit Achish gives unto David, the more sin it was to deceive him. And now the conceit of this, engagement procures him a further service. The Phi listines are assembled to fight with Israel ; Achish dares trust David on his side, yea, to keep his head for ever ; neither can Da vid do any less than promise his aid against his own flesh. Never was David, in all his life, driven to so hard an exigent ; never was he so extremely perplexed : for what should he do now ? To fight with Achish, he was tied by promise, by merit ; not to fight against Israel, he was tied by his call ing, by his unction : not to fight for Achish were to be unthankful ; to fight against Israel, were to be unnatural. O what an inward battle must David needs have in his breast, when he thinks of this battle of Is rael and the Philistines ! How doth he wish now, that he had rather stood to the hazard of Saul's persecution, than to have put him self upon the favour of Achish : he must fight on one side, and on whether side so ever he should fight, he could not avoid to be treacherous ; a condition worse than death to an honest heart. Which way he would have resolved, if it had come to the execution, who can know, since himself was doubtful ? Either course had been no better than desperate. How could the Is raelites ever have received him for their king, who, in the open field, had fought against them ? And, contrarily, if he would have fought against his friend for his enemy, against Achish for Saul, he was now en vironed with jealous Philistines, and might rather look for the punishment of his trea son, than the glory of a victory. His heart had led him into these straits ; the Lord finds a way to lead him out : the suggestions of his enemies do herein be friend him ; the princes of the Philistines, whether of envy or suspicion, plead for David's dismission: " Send this fellow back, that he may go again to his place which thou hast appointed him ; and let him not go down to the battle, lest he be an adver sary to us." No advocate could have said more ; himself durst not have said so much. O the wisdom and goodness of our God, that can raise up an adversary to deliver out of those evils, which our friends can not ! that, by the sword of an -enemy, can let out that apostume, which no physician could tell how to cure ! It would be wide with us sometimes, if it were not for others' malice. There could not.be a more just question, than this of the Philistine princes : " What do these Hebrews here ?" An Israelite is out of his element, when, he is in an army of Philistines. The true servants of God are in their due places, when they are in opposition to his enemies. Profession of hostility becomes them better than leagues of amity. Yet Achish likes David's conversation and presence so well, that he professeth himself pleased with him, as with an angel of God. How strange it is to hear, that a Philistine should delight in that holy man whom an Israelite abhors, and should be loath to be quit of David whom Saul hath expelled ! Terms of civility are equally open Cont. IV.] THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 203 to all.religions, to all professions : the com mon graces of God's children are able to attract love from the most obstinate ene mies of goodness : If we affect them for by- respects of valour, wisdom, discourse, wit, it is their praise, not ours ; but if for divine grace and religion, it is our praise with theirs. Such now was David's condition, that he must plead for that he feared, and argue against that which he desired : " What have I done, and what hast thou found in thy servant, that I may not go and fight against the enemies of my lord the king ?" Never any news could be more cordial to him than this of his dismission ; yet must he seem to strive against it, with an impor tunate profession of his forwardness to that act which he most detested. One degree of dissimulation draws on an other ; those which have once given way to a faulty course, cannot easily either stop or turn back, but are, in a sort, forced to second their ill beginnings with worse pro ceedings. It is a dangerous and miserable thing to cast ourselves into those actions, which draw with them a necessity either of offending or miscarriage. CONTEMPLATION IV. — SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR. Even the worst men may sometimes make head against some sins. Saul hath expelled the sorcerers out of the land of Is rael, and hath forbidden magic upon pain of death. He that had no care to expel Satan out of his own heart, yet will seem to drive him out of his kingdom. That we see wicked men oppose themselves to some sins, there is neither marvel nor comfort in it. No doubt Satan made sport at this edict of Saul : what cares he to be banished in sorcery, while he is entertained in malice? He knew and found Saul his, while he re sisted; and smiled to yield thus far unto his vassal. If we quit not all sins, he will be content we should either abandon or persecute some. Where there is no place for holy fear, there will be place for the servile. The graceless heart of Saul was astonished at the Philistines ; yet was never moved at the frowns of that God whose anger sent them, nor of those sins of his which procured them. Those that cannot fear for love, shall tremble for fear ; and how much better is awe than terror, prevention than confu sion! There is nothing more lamentable than to see a man laugh when he should fear : God shall laugh when such a one's fear cometh. Extremity of distress will send even the profanest man to God ; likeas the drowning man reacheth out his hand to that bough, which he contemned while he stood safe on the bank. Saul now asketh counsel of the Lord, whose prophet he hated, whose priests he slew, whose anointed he persecutes. Had Saul consulted with God when he should, this evil had not been ; but now, if this evil had not been, he had not consulted with God: the thank of this act is due, not to him, but to his affliction. A forced piety is thankless and unprofitable ; God will not an swer him, neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets. Why should God answer that man by dreams, who had resisted him waking? Why should he answer him by Urim, that had slain his priests ? Why should he answer him by prophets, who hated the Father of the prophets, and rebelled against the word of the prophets ? It is an unreasonable inequality to hope to find God at our command, when we would not be at his ; to look that God should regard our voice in trouble, when we would not regard his in peace. Unto what mad shifts are men driven by despair! If God will not answer, Satan shall. Saul said to his servants, " Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit." If Saul had not known this course devilish, why did he decree to banish it, to mulct it with death ? yet now, against the stream of his conscience, he will seek to those whom he had condemned : there needs no other judge of Saul's act than himself ; had he not before opposed this sin, he had not so heinously sinned in committing it. There cannot be a more fearful sign of a heart given up to a reprobate sense, than to cast itself wilfully into those sins which it hath proclaimed to detest. The declinations to evil are many times insensible ; but when it breaks forth into such apparent effects, even other eyes may discern it. What was Saul the better to foreknow the issue of his ap proaching battle? If this consultation could have strengthened him against his enemies, or promoted his victory, there might have been some colour for so foul an act : now, what could he gain, but the satisfying of his bootless curiosity, in foreseeing that which he should not be able to avoid ? Foolish men give away their souls for no thing. The itch of impertinent and unpro fitable knowledge hath been the hereditary disease ofthe sons of Adam and Eve. How many have perished, to know that which hath procured their perishing ! How ambi- 204 THE WITCH OF ENDOR. [Book XIV. tious should we be to know these things, the knowledge whereof is eternal life ! Many a lewd office are they put to, who serve wicked masters. One while, Saul's servants are sent to kill innocent David ; another while, to shed the blood of God's priests ; and now they must go seek for a witch. It is no small happiness to attend them, from whom we may receive precepts and examples of virtue. Had Saul been good, he had needed no disguise : honest actions never shame the doers. Now that he goeth about a sinful business, he changeth himself; he seeks the shelter of the night ; he takes but two followers with him : it is true, that if Saul had come in the port of a king, the witch had as much dissembled her condition, as now he dissembleth his ; yet it was not only desire to speed, but guiltiness, that thus altered his habit. Such is the power of conscience, that even those who are most affected to evil, yet are ashamed to be thought such as they desire to be. Saul needed another face to fit that tongue, which should say, " Conjure to me by the familiar spirit, and bring me up whom I shall name unto thee." An ob durate heart can give way to any thing. Notwithstanding the peremptory edict of Saul, there are still witches in Israel. Nei ther good laws, nor careful executions, can purge the church from malefactors ; there will still be some that will jeopard their heads upon the grossest sins. No garden can be so curiously tended, that there should not be one weed left in it. Yet so far can good statutes, and due inflictions of punishment upon offenders, prevail, that mischievous persons are glad to pull in their heads, and dare not do ill, but in disguise and darkness. It is no small advantage of justice that it affrights sin, if it cannot be expelled ; as, contrarily, woful is the con dition of that place, where is a public pro fession of wickedness. The witch was no less crafty than wicked : she had before, as is like, bribed officers to escape indictment, to lurk in secrecy ; and now she will not work her feats with out security. Her suspicion projects the worst : " Wherefore seekest thou to take me in a snare, to cause me to die ?" O vain sorceress, that could be wary to avoid the punishment of Saul, careless to avoid the judgment of God ! Could we forethink what our sin would cost us, we durst not but be innocent. This is a good and sea sonable answer for us to make unto Satan when he solicits us to evil : " Wherefore seekest thou to take me in a snare, to cause me to die?" Nothing is more sure than this intention in the tempter, than this event in the issue. O that we could but so much fear the eternal pains, as we do the tem porary ; and be but so careful to save our souls from torment, as our bodies ! No sooner hath Saul sworn her safety, than she addresseth herself to her sorcery : hope of impunity draws on sin with bold ness. Were it not for the delusions of false promises, Satan should have no clients. Could Saul be so ignorant as to think that magic had power over God's deceased saints. to raise them up, yea, to call them down from their rest ? Time was, when Saul was among the prophets. And yet now, that he is the impure lodge of devils, how sense less he is to say, " Bring me up Samuel !" It is no rare thing to lose even our wit and judgment, together with graces : howjustly are they given to sottishness, that have given themselves over to sin ! The sorceress, it seems, exercising heT conjurations in a room apart, is informed by her familiar, who it was that set her on work ; she can therefore find time, in the midst of her exorcisms, to bind the assu rance of her own safety by expostulation : " She cried with a loud voice, why hast thou deceived me? for thou art Saul." The very name of Saul was an accusation : yet is he so far from striking his breast, that, doubting lest this fear of the witch should interrupt the desired work-, he encourages herwhom he should have condemned : " Be not afraid ;" he that had more cause to fear, for his own sake, in an expectation of just judgment, cheers up her that feared nothing but himself. How ill doth it become us to give that counsel to others, whereof we have more need and use in our own persons ! As one that had more care to satisfy his own curiosity, than her suspicion, he asks, " What sawest thou ?" Who would not have looked, that Saul's hair should have started on his head, to bear of a spirit raised? His sin hath so hardened him, that he rather pleases himself in that which hath nothing in it but horror: so far is Satan content to descend to the service of his ser vants, that he will approve his feigned obe dience to their very outward senses : what form is so glorious, that he either cannot or dare not undertake ? Here gods ascend out of the earth ; elsewhere Satan trans forms him into an angel of light : what wonder is it, that his wicked instruments appear like saints in their hypocritical dis simulation ! ff we will be judging by the appearance, we shall be sure to err. No eye could distinguish betwixt the true Sa- Cont. V.] ZIKLAG SPOILED. 205 muel and a false spirit. Saul, who was well worthy to be deceived, seeing those grey hairs, and that mantle, inclines himself to the ground, and bows himself. He that would not worship God in Samuel alive, now worships Samuel in Satan ; and no marvel : Satan was now become liis refuge instead of God ; his Urim was darkness, liis prophet a ghost. Every one that consults with Satan worships him, though he bow not, neither doth that evil spirit desire any other reverence, than to be sought unto. How cunningly doth Satan resemble not only the habit and gesture, but the language of Samuel I " Wherefore hast thou dis quieted me, and wherefore dost thou ask of me, seeing the Lord is gone from thee, and is thine enemy ?" Nothing is more pleasing to that evil one, than to be soli cited ; yet, in the person of Samuel, he can say, " Why hast thou disquieted me?" Had not the Lord been gone from Saul, he had never come to the devilish oracle of Endor ; and yet the counterfeiting spirit can say, " Why dost thou ask of me, see ing the Lord is gone from thee ?" Satan cares not how little he is known to be him self: he loves to pass under any form, rather than his own. The more holy the person is, the more carefully doth Satan act him, that by his stale he may ensnare us. In every motion, it is good to try the spirits, whether they be of God. Good words are no means to distinguish a prophet from a devil. Samuel himself, while he was alive, could not have spoken more gravely, more severely, more divinely, than this evil ghost : " For the Lord will rend thy kingdom out of thy hand, and give it to thy neighbour David, because thou obeyedst not the voice of the Lord, nor executedst his fierce wrath upon the Amalekites, therefore hath the Lord done this unto thee this day." When the devil himself puts on gravity and religion, who can marvel at the hypocrisy of men ? Well may lewd men be good preachers, when Satan himself can play the prophet. Where are those ignorants, that think charitably of charms and spells, because they find nothing in them but good words ? What prophet could speak better words than this devil in Samuel's mantle ? Neither is there at any time so much danger of that evil spirit, as when he speaks best. I could wonder to hear Satan preach thus prophetically, if I did not know, that as he was once a good angel, so he can still act what, he was. While Saul was in consul tation of sparing Agag, we shall never find that Satan would lay any block in his way : yea, then he was a prompt orator to induce him into that sin ; now that it is past and gone, he can lade Saul with fearful denun ciations of judgment. Till we have sinned, Satan is a parasite ; when we have sinned, he is a tyrant. What cares he to flatter any more, when he hath what he would? Now, his only work is to terrify and con found, that he may enjoy what he hath won : how much better it is serving that master, who, when we are most dejected with the conscience of evil, heartens us with inward comfort, and speaks peace to the soul in the midst of tumult ! CONTEMPLATION V. — ZIKLAG SPOILED AND REVENGED. Had not the king of the Philistines sent David away early, his wives and his people and substance, which he left at Ziklag, had been utterly lost : now Achish did not more pleasure David in his entertainment, than in his dismission. Saul was not David's enemy more in the persecution of his per son, than in the forbearance of God's ene mies : behold, thus late doth David feel the smart of Saul's sin in sparing the Amale kites, who, if God's sentence had been duly executed, had not now survived, to annoy this parcel of Israel. As in spiritual respects our sins are al ways hurtful to ourselves, so in temporal, ofttimes prejudicial to posterity. A wicked man deserves ill of those he never lived to see. I cannot marvel at the Amalekites' as sault made upon the Israelites of Ziklag ; I cannot but marvel at their clemency : how just was it, that while David would give aid to the enemies of the church against Israel, the enemies of the church should rise against David, in his peculiar charge of Israel? But while David's roving against the Amalekites, not many days before, left neither man nor woman alive, how strange is it, that the Amalekites, invading and surprising Ziklag, in revenge, kill neither man nor woman ! Shall we say that mercy is fled from the breasts of Israelites, and rests in heathens ? Or shall we rather as cribe this to the gracious restraint of God, who, having designed Amalek to the slaugh ter of Israel, and not Israel to the slaughter of Amalek, moved the hands of Israel, and held the hands of Amalek ? This was that alone which made the heathens take up with an unbloody revenge.burning only the walls, and leading away the persons. Israel crossed the revealed will of God in sparing 206 ZIKLAG SPOILED. [Book XIV. Amalek ; Amalek fulfils the secret will of God in sparing Israel. It was still the lot of Amalek to take Israel at all advantages. Upon their first coming out of Egypt, when they were weary, weak, and unarmed, then did Ama lek assault them: and now, when one part of Israel was in the field against the Philistines, another was gone with the Phi listines against Israel, the Amalekites set upon the coasts of both, and go away loaded with the spoil. No other is to be expected of our spiritual adversaries, who are ever readiest to assail, when we are the unreadiest to defend. It was a woful spectacle for David and his soldiers, upon their return, to find ruins and ashes instead of houses ; and instead of their families, solitude : their city was va nished into smoke, their households into captivity ; neither could they know whom to accuse, or where to inquire for redress. While they made account that their home should recompense their tedious journey with comfort, the miserable desolation of their home doubles the discomfort of their journey : what remained there but tears and lamentations ? They lifted up their voices, and wept till they could weep no more. Here was plenty of nothing but misery and sorrow. The heart of every Israelite was brimful of grief: David's ran over ; for besides that his cross was the same with theirs, all theirs was his alone : each man looked on his fellow as a partner of affliction; but every one looked upon David as the cause of all their affliction ; and, as common displeasure is never but fruitful of revenge, they all agree to stone him as the author of their undoing, whom they followed all this while as the hopeful means of their advancement. Now David's loss is his least grief; nei ther, as if every thing had conspired to torment him, can he look besides the aggra vation of his sorrow and danger. Saul and his soldiers had hunted him out of Israel ; the Philistine courtiers had hunted him from the favour of Achish; the Amalekites spoiled him in Ziklag : yet all these are easy adversaries in comparison of his own; his own followers are so far from pitying his participation ofthe loss, that they are ready to kill him, because they are miserable with him. O the many and grievous perplexi ties of the man after God's own heart ! If all his train had joined their best helps for the mitigation of his grief, their cordials had been too weak ; but now the vexation that arises from their fury and malice, drown- eth the sense of their loss, and were enough to distract the most resolute heart. Why should it be strange to us that we meet with hard trials, when we see the dear anointed of God thus plunged in evils ? What should the distressed son of Jesse now do ? whither should he think to turn him ? To go back to Israel he durst not ; to go to Achish he might not ; to abide among those waste heaps he could not ; or, if there might have been harbour in those burnt walls, yet there could have been no safety to remain with those mutinous spi rits. But David comforted himself in the Lord his God. O happy and sure refuge of a faithful soul ! The earth yielded him nothing but matter of disconsolation and heaviness ; he lifts his eyes above the hills, whence cometh his salvation. It is no marvel that God remembereth David in all his troubles, since David in all his troubles did thus remember his God : he knew, that though no mortal eye of reason or sense could discern any evasion from these intri cate evils, yet that the eye of Divine Pro vidence had descried it long before ; and that, though no human power could make way for his safety, yet that the over-ruling hand of his God could do it with ease. His experience had assured him of the fidelity of his guardian in heaven ; and therefore he comforted himself in the Lord his God. In vain is comfort expected from God, if we consult not with him. Abiathar the. priest is called for : David was not in the court of Achish, without the priest by his side ; nor the priest without the ephod : had these been left behind in Ziklag, they had been miscarried with the rest, and David had now been hopeless. How well it succeeds to the great, when they take God with them in his ministers, in his ordinances ! As, contrarily, when these are laid by, as superfluous, there can be nothing but uncertainty of success, or cer tainty of mischief. The presence of the priest and ephod would have little availed him, without their use : by them he asks counsel of the Lord in these straits. The mouth and ears of God, which were shut unto Saul, are open unto David : no sooner can he ask, than he receives answer ; and the answer that he receives is full of courage and comfort : " Follow, for thou shalt surely overtake them, and recover all." That God of truth never disappointed any man's trust. David now finds, that the eye, which waited upon God, was not sent away weeping. David, therefore, and his men, are now upon their march after the Amalekites. It Cont. V.] ZIKLAG SPOILED. 207 is no lingering when God bids us go. They who had promised rest to their weary limbs, after their return from Achish, in their harbour of Ziklag, are glad to forget their hopes, and to put their stiff joints upon a new task of motion. It is no marvel if two hundred of them were so over-tired with their former toil, that they were not able to pass over the river Besor. David was a true type of Christ : we follow him in these holy wars, against the spiritual Amalekites. All of us are not of an equal strength : some are carried by the vigour of their faith through all difficulties ; others, after long pressure, are ready to languish in the way. Our leader is not more strong than pitiful ; neither doth he scornfully cashier those whose desires are hearty, while their abilities are unanswerable. How much more should our charity pardon the infirmities of our brethren, and allow them to sit by the stuff, who cannot endure the march ? The same Providence which appointed David to follow the Amalekites, had also ordered an Egyptian to be cast behind them. This cast servant, whom his cruel master had left to faintness and famine, shall be used as the means of the recovery of the Israelites' loss, and of the revenge of the Amalekites. Had not his master ne glected him, all these rovers of Amalek had gone away with their life and booty : it is not safe to despise the meanest vassal upon earth. There is a mercy and care due to the most despicable piece of all humanity, wherein we cannot be wanting without the offence, without the punishment of God. Charity distinguisheth an Israelite from an Amalekite. David's followers are stran gers to this Egyptian; an Amalekite was his master : his master leaves him to die in the field of sickness and hunger; these strangers relieved him : and ere they know whether they might, by him, receive any light in their pursuit, they refresh his dying spirits with bread and water, with figs and raisins ; neither can the haste of their way be any hinderance to their compassion. He hath no Israelitish blood in him, that is utterly merciless : perhaps yet David's fol lowers might also, in the hope of some intelligence, show kindness to this forlorn Egyptian. Worldly wisdom teacheth us to sow small courtesies, where we may reap large harvests of recompense. No sooner are his spirits recalled, than he requites his food with information. I cannot blame the Egyptian, that he was so easily induced to descry these unkind Amalekites to merciful Israelites ; those that gave him over unto death, to the restorers of his life ; much less that, ere he would descry them, he requires an oath of security from so bad a master. Well doth he match death with such a servitude! Wonderful is the provi dence of God, even over those that are not in the nearest bonds his own ! Three days and three nights had this poor Egyptian slave lain sick and hunger-starved in the fields, and looks for nothing but death, when God sends him succour from the hands of those Israelites whom he had helped to spoil ; though not so much for his sake, as for Israel's, is this heathenish straggler preserved. It pleases God to extend his common favours to all his creatures ; but, in mira culous preservations, he hath still wont to have respect to his own. By this means therefore are the Israelites brought to the sight of their late spoilers, whom they find scattered abroad, upon all the earth, eating and drinking, and dancing in triumph, for the great prey they had taken. It was three days at least since this gain ful foraging of Amalek : and now, seeing no fear of any pursuer, and promising them selves safety, in so great and untraced a distance, they make themselves merry with so rich and easy a victory; and now suddenly, when they began to think of en joying the booty and wealth they had gotten, the sword of David was upon their throats. Destruction is never nearer, than when se curity hath chased away fear. With how sad faces and hearts had the wives of David, and the other captives of Israel, looked upon the triumphant revels of Amalek ! and what a change do we think appeared in them, when they saw their happy and valiant rescuers flying in upon their inso lent victors, and making the death of the Amalekites the ransom of their captivity ! They mourned even now at the dances of Amalek ; now in the shrieks and death of Amalek, they shout and rejoice. The mercy of our God forgets not to interchange our sorrows with joy, and the joy of the wicked with sorrow. The Amalekites have paid a dear loan for the goods of Israel, which they now re store with their own lives : and now their spoil hath made David richer than he ex pected : that booty, which they had swept, from all other parts, accrued to him. Those Israelites, that could not go on to fight for their share, are come to meet their brethren with gratulation. How partial are we wont to be to our own causes ! Even very Israelites will be ready to fall out for matter of profit. Where self-love hath bred 208 DEATH OF SAUL. [Book XIV. a quarrel, every man is subject to flatter his own case. It seemed plausible, and but just to the actors in this rescue, that those which had taken no part in the pain and hazard of the journey, should receive no part of the commodity. It was favour enough for them to recover their wives and children, though they shared not in the goods. Wise and holy David, whose praise was no less to overcome his own in time of peace, than his enemies in war, calls his contending followers from law to equity, and so orders the matter, that, since the plaintiffs were detained, not by will, but by necessity, and since their forced stay was useful in guarding the stuff, they should partake equally of the prey with their fel lows : a sentence well beseeming the justice of God's anointed. Those that represent God upon earth, should resemble him in their proceedings. It is the just mercy of our God'to measure us by our wills, not by our abilities ; to recompense us graciously, according to the truth of our desires and endeavours ; and to account that performed by us, which he only letteth us from per forming. It were wide with us, if some times purpose did not supply actions. While our heart faulteth not, we that, through spiritual sickness, are fain to bide by the stuff, shall share both in grace and glory with the victors. CONTEMPLATION VI THE DEATH OF SAUL. The witch of Endor had half slain Saul before the battle : it is just that they who consult with devils should go away with discomfort. He hath eaten his last bread at the hand of a sorceress ; and now neces sity draws him into that field, where he sees nothing but despair. Had not Saul believed the ill news of the counterfeit Samuel, he had not been struck down on the ground with words : now his belief made him desperate. Those actions, which are not sustained by hope, must needs languish, and are only promoted by outward compulsion : while the mind is uncertain of success, it relieves itself with the possibili ties of good. In doubts there is a comfort able mixture ; but when it is assured of the worst event, it is utterly discouraged and dejected. It hath therefore pleased the wisdom of God to hide from wicked men his determination of their final estate, that the remainders of hope may hearten them to good.In all likelihood, one self-same day saw David a victor over the Amalekites, and Saul discomfited by the Philistines : how should it be otherwise ? David consulted with God, and prevailed : Saul with the witch of Endor, and perisheth. The end is commonly answerable to the way : it is an idle injustice, when we do ill, to look to speed well. The slaughter of Saul and his soqs was not in the first scene of this tra gical field : that was rather reserved by God for the last act, that Saul's measure might be full. God is long ere he strikes, bnt when he doth, it is to purpose. First, Is rael flies, and falls down wounded in mount Gilboa : they had their part in Saul's sin ; they were actors in David's persecution ; justly, therefore, do they suffer with him whom they had seconded in offence. As it is hard to be good under an evil prince, so it is as rare not to be enwrapped in his judgments. It was no small addition to the anguish of Saul's death, to see his sons dead, to see his people flying, and slain before him : they had sinned in their king, and in them is their king punished. The rest were not so worthy of pity ; but whose heart would it not touch to see Jonathan, the good son of a wicked father, involved in the common destruction ? Death is not partial : all dispositions, all merits, are alike to it. If valour, if holiness, if sincerity of heart, could have been any defence against mortality, Jonathan had survived. Now, by their wounds and death, no man can discern which is Jonathan : the soul only finds the difference which the body admit- teth not. Death is the common gate both to heaven and hell ; we all pass that, ere our turning to either hand. The sword of the Philistines fetcheth Jonathan through it with his fellows ; no sooner is his foot over that threshold, than God conducteth him to glory. The best cannot be happy but through their dissolution ; now, therefore, hath Jonathan no cause of complaint : he is, by the rude and cruel hand of a Philis tine, but removed to a better kingdom than he leaves to his brother ; and at once is his death both a temporal affliction to the son of Saul, and an entrance of glory to the friend of David. The Philistine archers shot at random : God directs their arrows into the body of Saul. Lest the discomfiture of his people, and the slaughter of his sons, should not be grief enough to him, he feels himself wounded, and sees nothing before him but horror and death ; and now, as a man for saken of all hopes, he begs of his armour- bearer that death's blow, which else he must, to the doubling of his indignation, receive from a Philistine. He begs this bloody fa- CoNT. VI.] DEATH OF SAUL. 209 vour of his servant, and is denied. Such an awfulness hath God placed in sovereignty, that no entreaty, no extremity, can move the hand against it. What metal are those men made of, that can suggest or resolve, and attempt the violation of majesty ? Wicked men care more for the shame of the world than the danger of their souls. Desperate Saul will now supply his armour-bearer ; and as a man that bore arms against him self, he falls upon his own sword. What if he had died by the weapon of a Phili stine ? so did his son Jonathan, and lost no glory : these conceits of disreputation pre vail with carnal hearts above all spiritual respects. There is no greater murderer than vain-glory. Nothing more argues a heart void of grace, than to be transported by idle popularity into actions prejudicial to the soul. Evil examples, especially of the great, never escape imitation : the armour-bearer of Saul follows his master, and dares do that to himself which to his king he durst not ; as if their own swords had been more fa miliar executioners, they yielded unto them what they grudged to their pursuers. From the beginning was Saul ever his own ene my ; neither did any hands hurt him but his own : and now his death is suitable to his life ; his own hand pays him the re ward of all his wickedness, The end of hypocrites and envious men is commonly fearful. Now is the blood of God's priests, which Saul shed, and of David, which he would have shed, required and requited. The evil spirit had said, the evening before, " To-morrow thou shalt be with me ;" and now Saul hasteth to make the devil no liar: rather than fail, he gives himself his own mittimus. O the woful extremities of a despairing soul, plunging him ever into a greater mischief, to avoid the less ! He might have been a patient in another's vio lence, and faultless ; now, while he will needs act the Philistine's part upon himself, he lived and died a murderer : the case is deadly, when the prisoner breaks the jail, and will not stay for his delivery ; and though we may not pass sentence upon such a soul, yet upon the fact we may : the soul may possibly repent in the parting ; the act is heinous, and such as, without repentance, kills the soul. It was the next day ere the Philistines knew how much they were victors ; then, finding the dead corpse of Saul and his sons, they begin their triumphs. The head of king Saul is cut off in lieu of Go- liah's, and now all their idol temples ring of their success; Foolish Philistines ! if they had not been mote beholden to Saul's sins than their gods, they had never car ried away the honour of those trophies ;. instead of magnifying the justice of the true God, who punished Saul with deserved death, they magnify the power of the false. Superstition is extremely injurious to God : it is no better than theft to ascribe unto the second causes, that honour which is due unto the first ; but to give God's glory to those things which neither act, nor are, it is the highest degree of spiritual robbery. Saul was none ofthe best kings; yet so impatient are his subjects of the indignity offered to his dead corpse, that they will rather leave their own bones amongst the Philistines, than the carcase of Saul. Such a close relation there is betwixt a prince and subject, that the dishonour of either is inseparable from both. How willing should we be to hazard our bodies or substance for the vindication eilher of the person or name of a good king, while he lives to the bene fit of our protection ! It is an unjust ingra titude in those men which can endure the disgrace of them under whose shelter they live ; but how unnatural is the villany of those miscreants that can be content to be actors in the capital wrongs offered to so vereign authority ! It were a wonder, if, after the death of a prince, there should want some pickthank to insinuate himself into his successor. An Amalekite young man rides post to Ziklag to find out David, whom even common ru mour had notified for the anointed heir to the kingdom of Israel, to be the first mes senger of that news, which he thought could be no other than acceptable, the death of Saul ; and, that the tidings might be so much more meritorious, he adds to the re port what he thinks might carry the greatest retribution. In hope of reward or honour, the man is content to belie himself to Da vid : it was not the spear, but the sword of Saul, that was the instrument of his death ; neither could this stranger find Saul, but dying, since the armour-bearer of Saul saw him dead ere he offered that violence to himself: the hand of this Amalekite, therefore, was not guilty ; his tongue was. Had not this messenger measured David's foot by his own last, he had forborne this piece of the news, and not hoped to ad vantage himself by this falsehood. Now he thinks the tidings of a kingdom cannot but please ; none but Saul and Jonathan stood in David's way : he cannot choose but like to hear of their removal, especially since. Saul did so tyrannously persecute his innocence. If I shall only report the fac.t O 210 ABNER AND JOAB. [Book XIV. done by another, I shall go away with but the recompense of a lucky post ; whereas, if I take upon me the action, I am the man to whom David is beholden for the king dom ; he cannot but honour and requite me as the author of his deliverance and happiness. Worldly minds think no man i can be of any other than of their own diet ; ! and because they And the respects of self- 1 love and private profit so strongly prevail- ! ing with themselves, they cannot conceive how these should be capable of a repulse ' from others. How much was this Amalekite mocked of his hopes ! While he imagined that David would now triumph and feast in the assured expectation of the kingdom, and possession of the crown of Israel, he finds him rending his clothes, and wringing his hands, and weeping and mourning as if all his comfort had been dead with Saul and Jonathan : and yet perhaps he thought, this sorrow of David is but fashionable, such as great heirs make show of in the fatal day they have longed for : these tears will be soon dry ; the sight of a crown will soon breed a succession of other passions. But this error is soon corrected ; for when David had entertained this bearer with a sad fast all the day, he calls him forth in the evening to execution : " How, wast thou not afraid," saith he, " to put forth thy hand to destroy the anointed of the Lord ?" Doubtless the Amalekite made many fair pleas for himself, out of the grounds of his own report. Alas ! Saul was before fallen upon his own spear ; it was but mercy to kill him that was half dead, that he might die the shorter : besides, his entreaty and importunate prayers moved me to hasten him through those painful gates of death : had I stricken him as an enemy, I had deserved the blow I had given ; now I lent hirn the hand of a friend ; why am I punished for obeying the voice of a king, and for perfecting what himself had begun, and could not finish ? And if neither his own wound, nor mine, had despatched him, the Philistines were at his heels, ready to do this same act with insultation, which I did in favour ; and if my hand had not pre vented him, where had been the crown of Israel, which I now have here presented to thee ? I could have delivered that to king Achish, and have been rewarded with ho nour : let me not die for an act well meant to thee, however construed by thee. But no pretence can make his own tale not deadly: " Thy blood be upon thine own head, for thine own mouth hath, testified against thee, saying, I have slain the Lord's anointed." It is a just supposition, that every man is so great a favourer of himself, that he will not misreport his own actions, nor say the worst of himself. In matter of confession, men may, without injury, be taken at their words : if he did it, his fact was capital ; if he did it not, his lie. It is pity any other recompense should befall those false flatterers, that can be content to father a sin to get thanks. Every drop of royal blood is sacred ; for a man to say that he hath shed it, is mortal. O how far different spirits from this of David, are those men which suborn the death of prin ces, and celebrate and canonize the mur derers ! " Into their secret, let not my soul come ; my glory, be not thou joined to their assembly." CONTEMPLATION VII. — ABNER AND JOAB. How merciful and seasonable are the proi visions of God I Ziklag was now nothing but ruins and ashes : David might return to the soil where it stood, to the roofs and walls he could not ; no sooner is he disap pointed of that harbour, than God provides him cities of Hebron : Saul shall die to give him elbow-room. Now doth David find the comfort that his extremity sought in the Lord his God ; now are his clouds for a time passed over, and the sun breaks gloriously forth : David shall reign after his sufferings. So shall we, if we endure to the end, find a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give us at that day. But though David well knew that his head was long before anoint ed, and had heard Saul himself confidently avouching his succession, yet he will not stir from the heaps of Ziklag, till he has consulted with the Lord. It did not con tent him, that he had God's warrant for the kingdom, but he must have his instruc tions for the taking possession of it. How safe and happy is the man that is resolved to do nothing without God ! Neither will generalities of direction be sufficient ; even particular circumstances must look for a word ; still is God a pillar of fire and cloud to the eye of every Israelite : neither may there be any motion or stay but from him ; that action cannot but succeed, which pro ceeds upon so sure a warrant. God sends him to Hebron, a city of Judah ; neither will David go up thither alone, but he takes with him all his men, with their whole households : they shall take such part as himself; as they had shared with him in his misery, so they shall now Cont. VII] ABNER AND JOAB. 2tl in his prosperity : neither doth he take ad vantage of their late mutiny, which was yet fresh and green, to cashier those unthank ful and ungracious followers ; but pardon ing their secret rebellions, he makes them partakers of his good success. Thus doth < our heavenly leader, whom David prefi gured, take us to reign with him, who have suffered with him. Passing by our manifold infirmities, as if they had not been, he re- moveth us from the land of our banishment, and the ashes of our forlorn Ziklag, to the Hebron of our peace and glory : the expec tation of this day must, as it did with Da vid's soldiers, digest all our sorrows. Never any calling of God was so con spicuous, as not to find some opposites. What Israelite did not know David ap pointed by God to the succession of the kingdom? Even the Amalekite could carry the crown to him as the true owner : yet there wants not an Abner to resist him, and the title of an Ishbosheth to colour his resistance. If any of Saul's house could have made challenge to the crown, it should have been Mephibosheth, the son of Jona than, who, it seems, had too much of his father's blood to be a competitor with Da vid : the question is not, who may claim the most right, but who may best serve the faction : neither was Ishbosheth any other than Abner's stale. Saul could not have a fitter courtier : whether in the imitation of his master's envy, or the ambition of ruling under a borrowed name, he strongly op posed David. There are those who strive against their own hearts, to make a side with whom conscience is oppressed by af fection. An ill quarrel, once undertaken, shall be maintained, although with blood : now, not so much the blood of Saul, as the engagement of Abner, makes the war. The sons of Zeruiah stand fast to David. It is much how a man placeth his first interest : if Abner had been in Joab's room, when Saul's displeasure drove David from the court, or Joab in Abner's, these actions, these events, had been changed with the persons : it was the only happiness of Joab that he fell on the better side. Both the commanders under David and Ishbosheth were equally cruel : both are so inured to blood, that they make but a sport of killing. Custom makes sin so familiar, that the horror of it is to some turned into pleasure. " Come, let the young men play before us." Abner is the challenger, and speeds thereafter ; for though, in the matches of duel, both sides miscarried, yet, in the following conflict, Abner and his men are beaten. By the success of those single combats no man knows the better of the cause : both sides perish, to show how little God liked either the offer or the accepta tion of such a trial ; but when botK did their best, God punisheth the wrong part with discomfiture. O the misery of civil dissension ! Israel and Judah were brethren ; one carried the name of the father, the other of the son. Judah was but a branch of Israel ; Israel was the root of Judah : yet Israel and Judah must fight, and kill each other, only upon the quarrel of an ill leader's ambition . The speed of Asahel was not greater than his courage. It was a mind fit for one of Da vid's worthies, to strike at the head, to match himself with the best. He was both swift and strong ; but " the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." If he had gone never so slowly, he might have overtaken death : now he runs to fetch it. So little lust had Abner to shed the blood of a son of Zeruiah, that he twice advises him to retreat from pursuing his own peril. Asahel's cause was so much better as Abner's success. Many a one miscarries in the rash prosecution of a good quarrel, when the abettors of the worst part go a- way with victory. Heat of zeal sometimes, in the indiscreet pursuit of a just adversary, proves mortal to the agent, prejudicial to the service. Abner, while he kills, yet he flies ; and runs away from his own death, while he inflicts it upon another. David's followers had the better of the field and day. The sun, as unwilling to see any more Israelitish blood shed by brethren, hath withdrawn himself: and now both parties, having got the advantage of a hill under them, have safe convenience of parley. Abner begins, and persuades Joab to surcease the fight i " Shall the sword devour for ever ? Know est thou not, that it will be bitterness in the end ? How long shall it be ere thou bid the people return from following their brethren ?" It was his fault that the sword devoured at all ; and why was not the be ginning of a civil war bitterness ? why did he call forth the people to skirmish, and invite them to death ? Had Abner been on the winning hand, this motion had been thank-worthy. It was a noble disposition in a victor, to call for a cessation of arms ; whereas necessity wrings this suit from the over-mastered. There cannot be a greater praise to a valiant and wise commander, than a propension to all just terms of peace ; for war, as it is sometimes necessary, so it is always evil; and if fighting have any- other end proposed besides peace, it proves o2 2.2 ABNER AND JOAB: [Book XIV. murder. Abner shall find himself no less overcome by Joab in clemency, than power : lie says not, I will not so easily leave the advantage of my victory ; since the dice of war run on my side, I will follow the chance of my good success : thou shouldest have Considered of this before thy provocation ; it is now too late to move unto forbearance. But, as a man that meant to approve him self equally free from cowardice in the be ginning of the conflict, and from cruelty in the end, he professeth his forwardness to entertain any pretence of sheathing up the swords of Israel ; and swears to Abner, that if it had not been, for his proud irrita tion, the people had in the morning before ceased from that bloody pursuit of their brethren. As it becomes public persons to be lovers of peace, so they must show it upon all good occasions ; letting pass no opportunity of making spare of blood. Ishbosheth was, it seems, a man of no great spirits ; for being no less than forty years old when his father went into his last field against the Philistines, he was content to stay at home. Abner hath put ambition into him, and hath easily raised him to the head of a faction, against the anointed prince of God's people. If this usurped crown of Saul's son had any worth or glory in it, he cannot but acknowledge to owe it all unto Abner ; yet how forward is unthankful Ish bosheth to receive a false suggestion against his chief abettor ! " Wherefore hast thou gone into my father's concubine ?" He that made no conscience of an unjust claim to the crown, and a maintenance of it with blood, yet seems scrupulous of a less sin, that carried in it the colour of a disgrace : the touch of her, who had been honoured by his father's bed, seemed an intolerable presumption, and such as could not be se vered from his own dishonour. Self-love sometimes borrows the face of honest zeal. Those who, out of true grounds, dislike sins, do hate them all indifferently, ac cording to their heinousness ; hypocrites are partial in their detestation, bewraying ever most bitterness against those offences, which may most prejudice their persons and reputations. It is as dangerous as unjust for princes to give both their ears and their heart to misgrounded rumours of their innocent fol lowers. This wrong hath stripped Ishbo sheth of the kingdom. Abner, in the mean time, cannot be excused from a treacherous inconstancy : if Saul's son had no true title to the crown, why did he maintain it ? if he had,, why did he forsake the cause and person ? Had Abner, out of remorse for furthering a false claim, taken off his hand, I know not wherein he could be blamed, except for not doing it sooner ; but now to withdraw his professed allegiance, upon a private revenge, was to take a lewd leave of an ill action. If Ishbosheth were his lawful prince, no injury could warrant a revolt. Even betwixt private persons, a return of wrongs is both uncharitable and unjust, however this go current for the com mon justice of the world : how much more should we learn, from a supreme hand, to take hard measures with thanks ! It had been Abner's duty to have given his king a peaceable and humble satisfaction, and not to fly out in a snuff: *' ff the spirit of the ruler rise up against thee, leave not thy place ; for yielding pacifieth great offences." Now, his impatient falling, although to the ; right side, makes him no better than trai torously honest. So soon as Abner hath entertained a re solution of his rebellion, he persuades the elders of Israel to accompany him in the change ; and whence doth he fetch his main motive, but from the oracle of God ? " The Lord hath spoken of David, saying, By the hand of my servant David will I save my people Israel out of the hand of the Philis tines, and out of the hand of all their ene mies." Abner knew this full well before, yet then was well content to smother a known truth for his own turn ; and now, that the publication of it may serve for his advantage, he wins the heart of Israel, by showing God's charter for him whom he had so long opposed. Hypocrites make use of God for their own purposes, and care only to make divine authority a colour for their own designs. No man ever heard Abner godly till now ; neither had be been so at this time, if he had not intended a revengeful departure from Ishbosheth. No- i '?, thing is more odious, than to make religion I " a stalking-horse to policy. Who can but glorify God in his justice, when he sees the bitter end of this trea cherous dissimulation ? David may, upon considerations of state, entertain his new guest with a feast ; and well might he seem to deserve a welcome, that undertakes to bring all Israel to the league and homage of David ; but God never meant to use so unworthy means for so good a work. Joab returns from pursuing a troop, and finding Abner dismissed in peace, and expectation of a beneficial return, follows him ; and, whether out of envy at a new rival of ho nour, or out of the revenge of Asahel, he repays him both dissimulation and death. God doth most justly by Joab, that which Cont. I.] UZZAH, AND THE ARK REMOVED. 213 Joab did for himself most unjustly. I know not, setting the quarrel aside, whether we can worthily blame Abner for the death of Asahel, who would needs, after fair warn ings, run himself upon Abner's spear ; yet this fact shall procure his payment for the worse. Now is ishbosheth's wrong revenged by an enemy. We may not always measure the justice of God's proceedings by present occasions : he needs not make us acquaint ed, or ask us leave, when he will call for the arrearages of forgotten sins. BOOK XV. CONTEMPLATION I. — UZZAH, AND THE ARK REMOVED. The house of Saul is quiet, the Philis tines beaten : victory cannot end better than in devotion. David is no sooner settled in his house at Jerusalem, that he fetcheth God to be his guest there : the thousands of Israel go now, in a holy march, to bring up the ark of God to the place of his rest. The tumults of war afforded no opportu nity of this service : only peace is a friend to religion ; neither is peace ever our friend, but when it is a servant of piety. The use of war is not more pernicious to the body, than the abuse of peace is to the soul. Alas ! the riot, bred of our long ease, rather drives the ark of God from us ; so the still seden tary life is subject to diseases, and standing waters putrefy. It may be just with God to take away the blessing, which we do so much abuse, and to scour off our rust with bloody war. The ark of God had now many years rested in the obscure lodge of Abinadab, without the honour of a tabernacle. David will not endure himself glorious, and the ark of God contemptible : his first care is to provide a fit room for God, in the head of the tribes, in his own city. The chief care of good princes must be the advance ment of religion : what should the deputies of God rather do, than honour him whom they represent ! It was no good that Israel could learn of Philistines ; those pagans had sent the ark back in a new cart ; the Is raelites saw that God blessed that conduct, and now they practise it at home : but that which Godwin take from Philistines, he will not brook from Israel : aliens from God are no fit patterns for children. Divine insti tution had made this a carriage for the Le vites, not for oxen ; neither should those tons of Abinadab have driven the cart, but carried that sacred burden. God's busi nesses must be done after his own forms, which if we do, with the best intentions, alter, we presume. It is long since Israel saw so fair a day as this, wherein they went, in this holy triumph, to fetch the ark of God. Now their warlike trumpets are turned into, harps and timbrels ; and their hands, instead of wielding the sword and spear, strike upon those musical strings, whereby they might express the joy of their hearts : here was no noise but of mirth, no motion but pleasant. 0 happy Israel, that had a God to rejoice in ! that had this occasion of rejoicing in their God, and a heart that embraced this occa sion! There is nothing but this wherein we may not joy immoderately, unseasonably ; this spiritual joy can never be either out of time, or out of measure : " Let him that rejoiceth, rejoice in the Lord." But now, when the Israelites were in the midst of this angel-like jollity, their hearts lifted up, their hands playing, their feet moving, their tongues singingand shouting, God sees good to strike them into a sudden damp by the death of Uzzah. They are scarce set into the tune, when God mars their music by a fearful judgment, and changes their mirth into astonishment and confusion. There could not be a more excellent work than this they were about ; there could not be more cheerful hearts in the performing of it; yet will the most holy God rather dash all this solemn service, than endure an act of presumption or infidelity. Abinadab had been the faithful host of God's ark for the space of twenty years : even in the midst of the terrors of Israel, who were justly af frighted with the vengeance inflicted upon Bethshemesh, did he give harbour unto it ; yet even the son of Abinadab is stricken dead, in the first departing of that blessed guest. The sanctity of the parent cannot bear out the sin of his son. The Holy One of Israel will be sanctified in all that come near him : he will be served like himself. What, then, was the sin of Uzzah ? what was the capital crime for which he so fear fully perished? That the ark of God was committed to the cart, it was not his device only, but the common act of many ; that it was not carried ou the shoulders of the Levites, was no less the fault of Ahio, and the rest of their brethren. Only Uzzah is stricken : the rest sinned in negligence; he in presumption : the ark of God shakes with the agitation of that carriage ; he puts forth his hand to hold it steady. Human judgment would have found herein nothing 214 UZZAH, AND THE ARK REMOVED. [Book XV. heinous. God sees not with the eyes of men : none but the priests should have dared to touch the ark ; it was enough for the Levites to touch the bars that carried it ; an unwarranted hand cannot so lightly touch the ark, but he strikes the God that dwells in it. No marvel if God strike that man with death, that strikes him with presumption : there was well near the same quarrel against the thousands of Bethshe- mesh, and against Uzzah; they died for looking into the ark, he for touching it : lest Israel should grow into a contemptu ous familiarity with this testimony of God's presence, he will hold them in awe with judgments. The revenging hand of the Almighty, that, upon the return of the ark, staid at the house of Abinadab, upon the remove of the ark, begins there again. Where are those that think God will take up with a careless and slubbered service ? He whose infinite mercy uses to pass by our sins of infirmity, punisheth yet severely our bold faults. If we cannot do any thing in the degrees that he requireth, yet we must learn to do all things in the form that he requireth : doubtless Uzzah meant no otherwise than well, in putting forth his hand to stay the ark ; he knew the sacred utensils that were in it, the pot of manna, the tables of the law, the rod of Aaron which might be wronged by that over-rough motion ; to these he offers his aid, and is stricken dead : the best intention cannot excuse, much less warrant us in unlawful actions. Where we do aught in faith, it pleases our good God to wink at and pity our weaknesses ; but if we dare to present God with the well-meant services of our own making, we run into the indignation of God. There is nothing more dangerous than to be our own carvers in matters of devotion. I marvel not if the countenance of Da vid were suddenly changed, to see the pale face of death in one of the-chief actors in this holy procession. He, that had found God so favourable to him in actions of less worth, is troubled to see this success of a business so heartily directed unto his God : and now he begins to look through Uzzah at himself, and to say, " How shall the ark of the Lord come to me?" Then only shall we make a right use of the judgments of God upon others, when we shall fear them in ourselves, and, finding our sins at least equal, shall tremble in the expectation of the same deserved punishments, God intends not only revenge in his execution, but reformation ; as good princes regard not so much the smart ofthe evil past, as the prevention ofthe future, which is never attained, but when we make applications of God's hand,, and draw common causes out of God's particular proceedings. I do not hear David say, Surely this man is guilty of some secret sin that the world knows not ; God hath met With him, there is no danger to us ; why should I be dis couraged to see God just ? We may go on safely and prosper. But here his foot stays, and his hand falls from his instrument, and his tongue is ready to tax his own unwor thiness: " How shall the ark of the Lord come unto me ? " That heart is carnal and proud that thinks any man worse than him self. David's feat stays his progress : per haps he might have proceeded with good success, but he dares not venture, where he sees such a deadly check. It is better to be too fearful than too forward, in those affairs which do immediately concern God. As it is not good to refrain from holy busi nesses, so it is worse to do them ill: awful- ness is a safe interpreter of God's secret actions, and a wise guide of ours. This event hath holpen Obed-Edom to a guest he looked not for : God shall now sojourn in the house of him, in whose heart he dwelt before by a strong faith, else the man durst not have undertaken to receive that dreadful ark, Which David himself feared to harbour. O the courage of an honest and faithful heart ! Obed- Edom knew well enough what slaughter the ark had made among the Philistines, and after that among the Bethshemites, and now he saw Uzzah lie dead before him : yet doth he not make any scruple of entertaining it ; neither doth he say, My neighbour Abinadab was a careful and reli gious host to the ark, and is now paid with the blood of his son ; how shall I hope to speed better ? But he opens his doors with a bold cheerfulness, and, notwithstanding all those terrors, bids God welcome. No thing can make God not amiable to his own ; even his very justice is lovely. Holy men know how to rejoice in the Lord with trembling, and can fear without discourage ment. The God of heaven will not receive any thing from men on free cost : he will pay liberally for his lodging; a plentiful blessing upon Obed-Edom, and all his household- It was an honour to that zealous Gittite, that the ark should come under his roof; yet God rewards that honour with bene diction : never man was a loser by true god. liness. The house of Obed-Edom cannot this while want observation ; the eyes of David and all Israel were never off from it, Cont. I.] UZZAH, AND THE ARK REMOVED. to see how it fared with this entertainment. And now, when they find nothing but a gracious acceptation and sensible blessing, the good king of Israel takes new heart, and hastens to fetch the ark into his royal city. The view of God's favours upon the godly is no small encouragement to confidence and obedience. Doubtless, Obed-Edom was not free from some weaknesses : if the Lord should have taken the advantage of judgment against him, what Israelites had not been disheartened from attending the ark? Now David and Israel were not more affrighted with the vengeance upon Uzzah, than encouraged by the blessing of Obed-Edom. The wise God doth so order his just and merciful proceedings, that the awfulness of men may be tempered with love. Now the sweet singer of Israel re vives his holy music, and adds both more spirit and more pomp to so devout a busi ness. I did not before hear of trumpets, nor dancing, nor shouting, nor sacrifice, nor the linen ephod. The sense of God's past displeasure doubles our care to please him, and our joy in his recovered approbation ; we never make so much of our health as after sickness, nor ever are so officious to our friend as after an unkindness. In the first setting out of the ark, David's fear was at least an equal match to his joy ; there fore, after the first six paces, he offered a sacrifice, both to pacify God and thank him : but now, when they saw no sign of dislike, they did more freely let themselves loose to a fearless joy, and the body strove to express the holy affection of the soul : there was no limb, no part, that did not profess their mirth by motion ; no noise of voice or instrument wanted to assist their spiritual jollity : David led the way, dan cing with all his might in his linen ephod. Uzzah was still in his eye : he durst not usurp upon a garment of the priests', but will borrow their colour to grace the solemnity, though he dare not the fashion. White was ever the colour of joy, and linen was light for use : therefore he covers his prince ly robes with white linen, and means to honour himself by his conformity to God's ministers. Those that think there is dis grace in the ephod, are far from the spirit of the man after God's own heart : neither can there be a. greater argument of a foul soul, than a dislike of the glorious calling of God. Barren Michal hath too many sons that scorn the holy habit and exercises. She looks through her window, and seeing the attire and gestures of her devout hus band, despiseth him in her heart : neither can she conceal her contempt, but, like 215 Saul's daughter, casts it proudly in his face : " 0 how glorious was the king of Israel this day, which was uncovered this day in the eyes of the maidens of his servants, as afool uncovereth himself!" Worldly hearts can see nothing in actions of zeal, but folly and madness. Piety hath no relish to their palate, but distasteful. David's heart did never swell so much at any reproach, as this of his wife : his love was for the time lost in his anger ; and, as a man impatient of no affront so much as. in the way of his devotion, he returns a bitter check to his Michal : " It was be fore the Lord, which chose me, rather than thy father, and all his house," &c. Had not Michal twitted her husband' with the shame of his zeal, she had not heard of the shameful rejection of her father : now, since she will be forgetting whose wife she was, she shall be put in mind whose daughter she was. Contumelies, that .are cast upon us in the causes of God, may safely be rer paid. If we be meal-mouthed in the scorns of religion, we are not patient, but zealless : here we may not forbear her that lies in our bosom, ff David had not loved Michal dearly, he hadnever stood upon those points with Abner : he knew, that if Abner came to him, the kingdom of Israel would accom pany him ; and yet he sends him the charge of not seeing his face, except he brought Michal, Saul's daughter, with him ; as if he would not regard the crown of Israel, while he wanted that wife of his : yet here he takes her up roundly, as if she had been an enemy, not a partner of his bed. All relations are aloof off', in comparison of that betwixt God and the soul : " He that loves father, or mother, or wife, or child, better than me (saith our Saviour), is not worthy of me." Even the highest delights of our hearts must be trampled upon, when they will stand out in rivalry with God. O hap py resolution ofthe royal prophet and pro phetical king of Israel ! " I will be yet more vile than thus, and will be low in mine own sight." He knew this very abase ment heroical.; and that the only way to true glory, is not to be ashamed of our lowest humiliation unto God. Well might he promise himself honour, from those whose contempt she had threatened. The hearts of men. are not their own : he that made them overrules them, and inclines them to an honourable conceit of those that honour their Maker ; so as holy men have ofttimes inward reverence, even where they have outward indignities. David came to bless his house ; Michal brings a curse upon herself; her scorns shall make her 216 MEPHIBOSHETH AND ZIBA. [Book XV, childless to the day of her death. Barren ness was held in those times none of the least judgments. God doth so revenge Da vid's quarrel upon Michal, that her sudden disgrace shall be recompensed with perpe tual : she shall not be held worthy'to bear a son to him whom she unjustly contemned. How just is it with God to provide whips for the backs of scorners ! It is no marvel if those that mock at goodness be plagued with continual fruitlessness. CONTEMPLATION II. — MEPHIBOSHETH AND ZIBA. So soon as ever David can but breathe himself from the public cares, he casts back his thoughts to the dear remembrance of his Jonathan. Saul's servant is likely to give hiin the best intelligence of Saul's sons : the question is therefore moved to Ziba, " Remaineth there none of fhe house of Saul?" And, lest suspicion might con ceal the remainders of an emulous line, in fear of revenge intended, he adds, " On whom I may show the mercy of God for Jonathan's sake?" O friendship worthy of the monuments of eternity ! fit only to re quite him whose love was more than the love of women ! He doth not say, Is there any of the house of Jonathan ? — but of Saul? — that, for his friend's sake, he may show favour to the posterity of his perse cutor. Jonathan's love could not be greater than Saul's malice, which also survived long in his issue, from whom David found a busy and stubborn rivality for the crown of Israel : yet, as one that gladly buried all the hostility of Saul's house in Jonathan's grave, he asks, " Is there any man left of Saul's house, that I may show him mercy for Jonathan's sake?" It is true love, that, overliving the person of a friend, will be inherited of his seed ; but to love the pos terity of an enemy in a friend, it is a miracle of friendship. The formal amity of the world is confined to a face, or to the pos sibility of recompense, languishing in the disability, and dying in the decease of the party affected. That love was ever false that is not ever constant, and the most operative when it cannot be either known or requited. To cut off all unquiet competition for the kingdom of Israel, the providence of God had so ordered, that there is none left of the house of Saul, besides the sons of his concubines, save only young and lame Me phibosheth : so young, that he was but five years of age when David entered upon the government of Israel : so lame, that, if his? age had fitted, his impotency had made him unfit for the throne. Mephibosheth was not born a cripple; it was a heedless nurse that made him so. She, hearing of the death of Saul and Jonathan, made such haste to fly, that her young master was lamed with the fall. Certainly there needed no such speed to run away from David, whose love pursues the hidden son of his brother Jonathan. How often doth our ig norant mistaking, cause us to run from our best friends, and to catch knocks and maims of them that profess our protection J Mephibosheth could not come otherwise than fearfully intp the presence of David, whom he knew so long, so spitefully op posed by the house of Saul. He could not be ignorant that the fashion ofthe world is to build their own security upon the blood of the opposite faction ; neither to think themselves safe, while any branch remains springing out of that root of their emula tion. Seasonably doth David therefore first expel all those unjust doubts, ere he admi nister his further cordials : " Fear not, for I will surely show thee kindness for Jonar than thy father's sake, and will restore thee all the fields of Saul thy father, and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually." David can see neither Saul's blood, nor lame legs in Mephibosheth, while he sees in him the features of his friend Jonathan; how much less shall the God of mercies regard our infirmities, or the corrupt blood of our sinful progenitors, while he beholds us in the face of his Son, in whom he is well pleased ! Favours are wont so much more to affect us, as they are less expected by us, Me phibosheth, as overjoyed with so comfort able a word, and confounded in himself at the remembrance of the contrary deservings of his family, bows himself to the earth; and says, " What is thy servant, that thou shouldst look upon such a dead dog as 1 am ?" I find no defect of wit, though of limbs, in Mephibosheth : he knew himself the grandchild of the king of Israel, the son of Jonathan, the lawful heir of both ; yet in regard of his own impotency, and the trespass and rejection of his house, he thus abaseth himself unto David. Humiliation is a right use of God's affliction. What if he was born great ? If the sin of his grand father hath lost his estate, and the hand of his nurse hath deformed and disabled his person, he now forgets what he was, and calls himself worse than he is, "a dog." Yet, " a living dog is better than a dead lion." There is dignity and comfort in life ; Cost. II.] MEPHIBOSHETH AND ZIBA. 217 Mephibosheth is therefore a dead dog unto David. It is not for us to nourish the same spirits in our adverse estate, that we found in our highest prosperity. What use have we made of God's hand, if we be not the lower with our fall ? God intends we should carry our cross, not make a fire of it to warm us : it is no bearing up our sails in a tem pest. Good David cannot disesteem Me phibosheth ever the more for disparaging himself; he loves and honours this humility in the son of Jonathan. There is no more Certain way to glory and advancement, than a lowly dejection of ourselves. He that made himself a dog, and therefore fit only to lie under the table, yea a dead dog, and therefore fit only for the ditch, is raised up to the table of a king ; his seat shall be ho nourable, yea royal ; his fare delicious, his attendance noble. How much more will our gracious God lift up our heads unto true honour before men and angels, if we can be sincerely humbled in his sight ! If we mis call ourselves in the meanness of our con ceits to him, he gives us a new name, and sets us at the table of his glory. It is contrary with God and men : if they reckon of us as we set ourselves, he values us according to our abasements. Like a prince truly mu nificent and faithful, David promises and performs at once. Ziba, Saul's servant, hath the charge given him of the execution of that royal word: " He shall he the bailiff of this great husbandry of his master Mephi bosheth." The land of Saul, however foi- feited, shall know no other master than Saul's grandchild. As yet, Saul's servant had sped better than his son. I read of twenty servants of Ziba, none of Mephibosheth. Earthly possessions do not always admit of equal divisions. The wheel is now turned up : Mephibosheth is a prince ; Ziba is his Officer. I cannot but pity the condition of this good son of Jonathan : into ill hands did honest Mephibosheth fall; first of a care less nurse, then of a treacherous servant : she maimed his body ; he would have over thrown his estate. After some years of eye- service to Mephibosheth, wicked Ziba in tends to give him a worse fall than his nurse. Never any court was free from detractors, from delators, who, if they see a man to be a cripple, that he cannot go to speak for himself, will be telling tales of him in the ears of the great. Such a, one was this per fidious Ziba, who, taking the opportunity of David's flight from his son Absalom, fol lows him with a fair present, and a false tale, accusing his impotent master of a foul and traitorous ingratitude, labouring to tread upon his lame lord, to raise himself to ho nour. True-hearted Mephibosheth had as good a will as the best : if he could have commanded legs, he had not been left be hind David. Now, that he cannot go with him, he will not be well without him, and therefore puts himself to a wilful and sul len penance for the absence and danger of his king ; he will not so much as put on clean clothes for the time, as he that could not have any joy in himself for the want of his lord David. Unconscionable miscreants care not how they collogue, whom they slan. der, for a private advantage. Lewd Ziba comes with a gift in his hand, and a smooth tale in his mouth : O, sir, you thought you had a Jonathan at home, but you will find a Saul : it were pity but he should be set at your table, that would sit in your throne \ You thought Saul's land would have con tented Mephibosheth, but he would have all yours ; though he be lame, yet he would he climbing : would you have thought that this cripple could be plotting for your kingdom^ no w that you are gone aside ? Ishbosheth will never die while Mephibosheth lives. How did he now forget his impotence, and raised up his spirits in hope of a day ; and durst say, that now the time was come, wherein the crown should revert to Saul's true heir. O viper ! if a serpent bite in secret when he is not charmed, no better is a slanderer- Honest Mephibosheth, in good manners, made a dead dog of himself, when David offered him the favour of his board ; but Ziba would make him a very dog indeed, an ill-natured cur, that when David did thus kindly feed him at his own table, would not only bite his fingers, but fly at his throat. . But what shall we say to this ? Neither earthly sovereignty, nor holiness, can ex empt men from human infirmity. Wise and good David hath now but one ear, and that misled with credulity. His charity in be lieving Ziba, makes him uncharitable in dis trusting, in censuring Mephibosheth. The detractor hath not only sUdden credit given him, but Saul's land. Jonathan's son hath lost (unheard) that inheritance which was given him unsought. Hearsay is no safe groundof any judgment; Ziba slanders, Da vid believes, Mephibosheth suffers. Lies shall not always prosper : God will not abide the truth to be ever oppressed. At last Jonathan's lame son shall be found as sound in heart, as lame in his body ; he, whose soul was like his father Jonathan's soul, whose body was like to his grandfather Saul's soul, meets David, as it was high time, upon his return ; bestirs his tongue to dis charge himself of so foul a slander : the more horrible the crime had been, the more 218 DAVID'S AMBASSADORS. [Book XV. villanous was the unjust suggestion of it, and the more necessary was a just apology : sweetly, therefore, and yet passionately, doth he labour togreaten David's favours to him, his own obligations and vileness ; show ing himself more affected with his wrong, than with his loss ; welcoming David home with a thankful neglect of himself, as not Caring that Ziba had his substance, now that he had his king. David is satisfied ; Mephibosheth restored to favour and lands : here are two kind hearts well met. David is full of satisfaction from Mephibosheth ; Mephibosheth runs over with joy in David : David, like a gracious king, gives Mephi bosheth, as before, Saul's lands to halves with Ziba; Mephibosheth, like a king, gives all to Ziba, for joy that God had given him David : all had been well, if Ziba had fared worse. Pardon me, O holy and glorious soul of a prophet, of a king, after God's own heart ! I must needs blame thee for mercy ; a fault that the best and most generous na tures are most subject to : it is a pity that so good a thing should do hurt; yet we find that the best, misused, is most dangerous. Who should be the pattern of kings, but the King of God ? Mercy is the goodliest flower in his crown ; much more in theirs, but with a difference : God's mercy is in finite, theirs limited: he says, " I will have mercy on whom I will ;" they must say, I will have mercy on whom I should : and yet he, for all his infinite mercy, hath ves sels of wrath, so must they ; of whom his justice hath said, " Thine eye shall not spare them." A good man is pitiful to his beast; shall he therefore make much of toads and snakes ? O that Ziba should go away with any possession, save of shame and sorrow I that he should be coupled with a Mephi bosheth in a partnership of estates ! O that David had changed the word a little ! A division was due here indeed — but of Ziba's ears from his head, or his head from his shoulders, for going about so maliciously to divide David from the sons of Jonathan : an eye for an eye was God's rule. If that had been true which Ziba suggested against Mephibosheth, he had been worthy to lose his head with his lands ; being false, it had been but reason Ziba should have changed heads with Mephibosheth. Had not holy David himself been so stung with venomous tongues, that he cries out, in the bitterness of his soul, " What reward shall be given ' thee, O thou false tongue ? even sharp ar- ; rows, with hot burning coals." He that was so sensible of himself in Doeg's wrong, doth he feel so little of Mephibosheth in Ziba's? Are these the arrows of David's quiver ? Are these his hot burning coals ? " Thou and Ziba divide." He that had said, Their tongueis a sharp sword ; now that the sword of just revenge is in his hand, is this the blow he gives ? " Divide the possession." I know not whether excess or want of mercy may prove most dangerous in the great : the one discourages good intentions with fear; the other may encourage wicked practices through presumption : those that are in emi nent place must learn the mid-way betwixt? both ; so pardoning faults, that they may not provoke them; so punishing them, that they may not dishearten virtuous and well- meant- actions : they must learn to sing that absolute ditty, whereof David had here for gotten one part, of mercy and judgment. CONTEMPLATION III HANUN AND DAVID S AMBASSADORS. It is not the meaning of religion to make men uncivil. If the king of Ammon were heathenish, yet his kindness may be ac knowledged, may be returned, by the king of Israel. I say not but that perhaps Da vid might maintain too strait a league with that forbidden nation. A little friendship is enough to an idolater ; but even the savage cannibals may receive an answer of outward courtesy, if a very dog fawn upon us, we stroke him on the head, and clap him on the side; much less is the common band of humanity untied by grace. Disparity, in spiritual professions, is no warrant for in gratitude. He therefore, whose good nature proclaimed to show mercy to any branch of Saul's house for Jonathan's sake, will now also show kindness to Hanun, for the sake of Nahash his father. It was the same Nahash that offered the cruel condition to the men of Jabesh- Gilead, of thrusting out their right eyes for the ad mission into his covenant. He that was thus bloody in his designs against Israel, yet was kind to David, perhaps for no cause so much as Saul's opposition ; and yet even this favour is held worthy both of memory and retribution. Where we have the acts of courtesy, it is not necessary we should enter into a strict examination ofthe grounds of it ; while the benefit is ours, let the in tention be their own. Whatever the hearts of men are, we must look at their hands, and repay, not what they meant, but what they did. Nahash is dead ; David sends ambassa dors to condole his loss, and to comfort his son Hanun. No Ammonite but is sadly affected with the death of a father, though Cont. in.] DAVID'S AMBASSADORS. 219 it gain him a kingdom. Even Esau could say, " The days of mourning for my father will come :" no earthly advantage can fill up the gap of nature. Those children are worse than Ammonites, that can think either gain or liberty worthy to countervail a parent's loss. Carnal men are wont to measure another's foot by their own last ; their own falsehood makes them unjustly suspicious of others. The princes of Ammon, because they are guilty to their own hoUowness and double- ness of heart, are ready so to judge of Da vid and his messengers : " Thinkest thou that David doth honour thy father, that he hath sent comforters unto thee ? Hath not David rather sent his own servants to thee to search the city, and to spy it out, to over throw it?" It is hard for a wicked heart ' to think well of any other ; because it can think none better than itself, and knows itself evil. The freer a man is from vice himself, the more charitable he uses to be unto otherst Whatsoever David was, particularly in his own person, it was ground enough- of prejudice that he was an Israelite. It was an hereditary and deep-settled hatred that the Ammonites had conceived against their brethren of Israel ; neither can they forget that shameful and fearful foil which they received from the rescuers of Jabesh-Gilead : and now still do they stomach at the name of Israel. Malice once conceived in worldly hearts, is not easily extinguished, but, upon all occasions, is ready to break forth into a flame of revengeful actions. Nothing can be more dangerous, than for young princes to meet with ill counsel in the entrance of their government ; for both then are they most prone to take it, and most difficultly recovered from it. If we be set out of our way in the beginning of our journey, we wander all the day. How happy is that state, where both the counsellors are faithful to give only good advice, and the king wise to discern good advice from evil. The young king of Ammon is easily drawn to believe his peers, and to mistrust the messengers : and having now, in his con ceit, turned them into spies, entertains them with a scornful disgrace ; he shaves off one half off their beards, and cuts off one half of their garments, exposing them to the de rision of all beholders. The Israelites were forbidden either a shaven beard or a short garment. In despite, perhaps, of their law, these ambassadors are sent away with both ; certainly in a despite of their master, and a scorn of their persons. King David is not a little sensible of the abuse of his messengers, and of himself in them : first, therefore, he desires to hide their shame ; then to revenge it. Man hath but a double ornament of body ; the one of nature, the other of art ; the natural or nament is the hair, the artificial is apparel. David's messengers are deformed in both : the one is easily supplied by a new suit; the other can only be supplied out of the wardrobe of time : " Tarry at Jericho till your beards be grown." How easily had this deformity been removed, if, as Hanun had shaven one side of their faces, so they had shaven the other ! What had this been but to resemble their younger age, or that other sex, in neither of which do we use to place any imagination of unbeseeming ? Neither did there want some of their neigh bour nations, whose faces age itself had not wont to cover with this shade of hair. But so respective is good David, and his wise senators, of their country's forms, that they shall, by appointment, rather tarry abroad till time have wrought their conformity, than vary from the received fashions of their own people. Alas ! into what a licentious variety of strange disguises are we fallen ! The glory of attire is sought in novelty, in misshapenness, in monstrousness : there is much latitude, much liberty, in the use of these indifferent things ; but, because we are free, We may not run wild, and never think we have scope enough unless we out run modesty. It is lawful for public persons to feel their own indignities, and to endeavour their revenge. Now David sends all the host of the mighty men 'to punish Ammon for so foul an abuse. Those that received the mes sengers of his love with scorn and inso- lency, shall now be severely saluted with the messengers of his wrath. It is just both with God and men, that they who know not how to take favours aright, should smart with judgments. Kindness repulsed, breaks forth into indignation ; how much more when it is repaid with an injurious affront? David cannot but feel his own cheeks shaven, and his own coat cut in his am bassadors': they did but carry his person to Hanun; neither can he therefore but ap propriate to himself the kindness or injury offered unto them. He that did so take to heart the cutting off' but the lap of king Saul's garment, when it was laid aside from him, how must he needs be affected with this disdainful halving of his hair and robes in the person of his deputies ! The name of ambassadors hath ever been sacred, and, by the universal law of nations, hath car ried in it sufficient protection from all pub- 220 DAVID'S AMBASSADORS. [Book XV. lie wrongs : neither hath it been violated without a revenge. O God, what shall we say to those notorious contempts, which are daily cast upon thy spiritual messengers ? Is it possible thou shouldst not feel them, thou shouldst not avenge them ? We are made a gazing-stock to the world, to angels, and to men : we are despised and trodden down in the dust : " Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed ?" How obstinate are wicked men in their perverse resolutions ! Those foolish Am monites had rather hire Syrians to maintain a war against Israel in so foul a quarrel, besides the hazard of their own lives, than confess the error of their jealous miscon struction. It is one of the mad principles of wicked ness, that it is a weakness to relent, and rather to die than yield. Even ill causes, once undertaken, must be upheld, although with blood ; whereas the gracious heart, finding his own mistaking, doth not only remit of an ungrounded displeasure, but ! studies to be revenged of itself, and to give satisfaction to the offended. The mercenary Syrians are drawn to ven ture their lives for a fee : twenty thousand of them are hired into the field against Israel, Fond pagans, that know not the value of a man ! their blood cost them no thing, and they care not to sell it good- cheap. How can we think those men have souls, that esteem a little white earth above themselves? that never inquire into the justice of the quarrel, but the rate of the pay ? that can rifle for drachms of silver in the bowels of their own flesh, and either kill or die for a day's wages ? Joab, the wise general of Israel, soon finds where the strength of the battle lay, and so marshals his troops, that the choice of his men shall encounter the vanguard of the Syrians. His brother Abishai leads the rest against the children of Ammon, with this covenant of mutual assistance, " If the Syrians be too strong for me, then thou shalt help me ; but if the children of Ammon be too strong for thee, then will I come and help thee." It is a happy thing when the captains of God's people join to gether as brethren, and lend their hand to the aid of each other against the common adversary. Concord in defence, or assault, is the way to victory ; as, contrarily, the division of the leaders is the overthrow of the army, Set aside some particular actions, Joab was a worthy captain, both for wisdom and valour. Who could either exhort or resolve better than he? " Be of good courage, and let us play the men, for our people, and for the cities of our God ; and the Lord do that which seemeth him good !" It is not either private glory or profit that whets his fortitude, but the respect to the cause of God and his people. That soldier can never answer it to God, that strikes not more as a justiciar, than as an enemy ; neither doth he content himself with his own courage, but he animates others. The tongue of a commander fights more than his hand. It is enough for private men to exercise what life and limbs they have : a good leader must, out of his own abundance, put life and spi rits into all others : if a lion lead sheep into the field, there is hope of victory. Lastly, when he hath done his best, he resolves to depend upon God for the issue, not trust ing to his sword, or his bow, but to the providence of the Almighty, for success, as a man religiously awful, and awfully con fident, while there should be no want in their own endeavours. He knew well that the race was not to the swift, nor the bat tle to the strong ; therefore he looks up above the hills whence cometh his salva tion. All valour is cowardice to that which \ is built upon religion. I marvel not to see Joab victorious, while he is thus godly. The Syrians fly before him like flocks of sheep ; the Ammonites follow them ; the two sons of Zeruiah have nothing to do but to pursue and execute. The throats of the Ammonites are cut, for cutting the beards and coats of the Israel itish messengers : neither doth this revenge end in the field : Rabbah, the royal city of Ammon, is strongly beleaguered by Joab^ the City of Waters (after well-near a year's siege) yieldeth ; the rest can no longer hold out. Now Joab, as one that desireth more to approve himself a loyal and a careful subject, than a happy general, sends to his master David, that he should come per sonally, and encamp against the city, and take it : " Lest (saith he) I take it, and it be called after my name." O noble and admirable fidelity of a dutiful servant, that prefers his lord to himself, and is so far from stealing honour from his master's de serts, that he willingly remits of his own to add unto his ! The war was not his ; he was only employed by his sovereign : the same person, that was wronged in the am bassadors, revengeth by his soldiers. The praise of the act shall, like fountain water, return to the sea, whence it originally came. To seek a man's own glory, is not glory. Alas ! how many are there, who being sent to sue for God, woo for themselves !_ O Cont. IV.] DAVID AND BATHSHEBA. 221 (God, it is a fearful thing to rob thee of • that which is dearest to thee, glory, which, as thou wilt not give to any creature, so much less wilt thou endure that any crea ture should filch it from thee, and give it to himself! Have thou the honour of all our actions, who givest a being to our actions and us, and in both hast most justly regarded thine own praise ! CONTEMPLATION IV. — DAVID WITH BATHSHEBA AND URIAH. With what unwillingness, with what fear, do I still look upon the miscarriage of the man after God's own heart ! O holy prophet, who can promise himself always to stand, when he sees thee fallen and maimed with the fall? Who can assure himself of an immunity from the foulest sins, when he sees thee offending so heinous ly, so bloodily? Let profane eyes behold thee contentedly, as a pattern, as an excuse of sinning ; I shall never look upon thee but through tears, as a woful spectacle of human infirmity. While Joab and all Israel were busy in the war against Ammon, in the siege of Rabbah, Satan finds time to lay siege to the secure heart of David. Who ever found David thus tempted, thus foiled, in the days of his busy wars ? Now only do I see the king of Israel rising from his bed in the, evening: the time was, when he rose up in the morning to his early devotions ; when he brake his nightly rest with public cares, with the business of the state : all that while, he was innocent, he was holy ; but now that he wallows in the bed of idle ness, he is fit to invite temptation. The industrious man hath no leisure to sin ; the idle hath neither leisure nor power to avoid sin. Exercise is not more wholesome for the body than for the soul, the remission whereof breeds matter of disease in both. The water that hath been heated soonest freezeth. The most active spirit soonest tireth with slackening. The earth stands still, and is all dregs : the heavens ever move, and are pure. We have no reason to complain of the assiduity of the work : the toil of action is answered by the bene fit ; if we did less we should suffer more. Satan, like an idle companion, if he finds us busy, flies back, and sees it no time to entertain vain purposes with us : we cannot please him better, than by casting away our work, to hold chat with him ; we cannot yield so far, and be guiltless. v^ Even David's eyes have no sooner the sleep rubbed out of them, than they rove j