Occasional reflections upon several subiects, whereto is premis'd a discourse about such kind of thoughts

SECT. IV.

CHAP. I.

HItherto we have considered the Be∣nefits that may be afforded by the practice of Occasional Meditations to the Intellectual Faculties. We will now proceed to the Advantages that may accrue from the same Practice to the Will and Af∣fections. These advantages being not onely the most valuable in themselves, but those upon whose account I have been engag'd in the present Undertaking.

V. The last therefore and greatest Bene∣fit I shall take notice of, in the practice I would invite you to, is, That it awakens good thoughts, and excites good motions, in the Will and Affections. For since we have already manifested, that it is wont to sug∣gest variety of Notions to the Meditator, and such as are usually accompani'd with delight: This friendly property to Devo∣tion, which I now ascribe to our Melecticks, is a very easie and genuine off-spring of

the marriage of the two others: The Beams of Knowledge, acquired by such Reflections, having in them, like those of the Sun, not onely Light but Heat. And indeed it were somewhat strange, as well as sad, if a person disposed and accustomed to observe and consider, conversing with such instructive Books as those of God's Creatures and his Providence, with an intention to take out practical Lessons, should not find them. For amid'st that rich variety of Objects that in differing manners proffer them∣selves to his consideration, and suggest to him a great diversity of Reflections, it can∣not reasonably be imagin'd that he should not find subjects or circumstances, that are proper, either to afford him Examples to imitate, or shew him the Danger, or Un∣handsomeness, or Inconvenience of some thing that he should avoid, or raise his thoughts and affections Heaven-wards, or furnish him with some new practical con∣sideration, or shew him some known Truth in a varied and delightful dress, or (at least) recal some Notions his frailty makes him need to be put in mind of, or, in a word, either refresh his memory, or other∣wise cherish his Devotion. Let us suppose a person, who being qualifi'd and accu∣stomed to reflect upon various objects that

occur to him, mainly designs, in the exer∣cise of that faculty, the warming of his Af∣fections, and the improvement of his Piety, and we shall scarce doubt, but when he looks about him in the world, he will find it, what one of the Fathers loftily styled it, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, (a Schole for Rational Souls to learn the knowledge of God.) There is scarce any thing that Nature has made, or that men do or suffer, though the Theme seem never so low and slight, whence the devout Reflector cannot take an occasion of an aspiring Meditation; as in a hopeful morning the humble Lark can, from the lowest furrow in the field, take a soaring flight towards Heaven, and ascend thither∣ward with a melody that delights both her self and her hearers. If such a person con∣siders how amongst such an admirable Va∣riety, and such odd Antipathies of the numberless Creatures that compose the Universe, the constant observation of the Laws of their Nature makes them univer∣sally, and, as it were, unanimously, to con∣spire to make the Author of it appear won∣derful in it, he cannot but be willingly pos∣sess'd with such an awful admiration of the matchless wisdom of their great Disposer, as made the Psalmist cry out, upon a some∣what

what like occasion, How manifold are thy works, O Lord, how wisely hast thou made them all? If he have occasion to consider the mer∣ciful Dispensations of Divine Providence to the Godly, or to take notice of the severe Inflictions of Di∣vine Justice on the Wicked, he will find himself powerfully engag'd to relie on the one, and to apprehend provoking the other. If he take notice that the World is but our Store-house, and that multitudes of admi∣rable Creatures seem to have had a being given them, principally for the use of un∣deserving Man, insomuch that many of the Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes, are but our Caters for one another, he will burst out into Mental, if not Vocal, expressions of Thankfulness and Humiliation to the Father of Mercies, for so unmerited and ill re∣turned a Bounty, and will be apt to say with David, What is man that thou takest know∣ledge of him? or the son of man that thou makest account of him? And if he compare this Munificence of God, in daily giving so many Creatures, that never violate the Laws of their Nature, nor endeavour to disappoint him of his Ends in creating

them, for the necessities, nay, for the plea∣sures, of rebellious and unthankful Man, he will resent an ingenuous shame, and a no∣ble disdain, That that Creature should be of all the least grateful that has received the most Benefits, and that he should of all others prove the most unruly, who alone has been endowed with Reason to rule him∣self withall. If in a Starry night he looks upon the Firmament, and considers how many fixed Stars there are, and how many thousand times more there might be with∣out wanting room, the least of which Astronomers teach us to be far bigger than the whole Earth, which yet, by the proba∣blest computation, contains above ten thou∣sand millions of Cubick German Leagues, (and consequently above threescore times as many English miles of solid measure) he will find abundant cause to exclaim with David, When I consider thy Heavens, the work of thy hands, the Moon and Stars which thou hast ordained, What is man that thou should'st be mindful of him, or the Son of man that thou visitest him?

CHAP. II.

ANd since our Discourse has led us to the mention of a Text, where the truly inspired Poet (who, by his omitting to speak of the Sun, seems to have compos'd this Psalm in the night) makes the Moon the chief subject of his Meditation, it will not perhaps be amiss, if, on this occasion, we add a few short Reflections on the same Theme, and thereby confirm what we lately noted about the differing Reflections, and Simili∣tudes, which may be afforded by the same subject, as its several Attributes may be differingly consider'd.

If then, in the first place, when our Con∣templator takes notice of the greatest Brightness of the Moon, he remembers too, that 'tis when she is at the Full, that she is subject to be Eclips'd, it would put him in mind of the mutability of humane things, and that oftentimes Prosperity proves ne∣ver the more secure for appearing the more full and resplendent.

Next, our Reflector may find in the Moon, a lively Emblem of a true Minister of the Gospel. For, as the Moon commu∣nicates to the Earth, the Light, and that

onely, which she receives from the Sun; so the Apostles, and first Preachers of Chri∣stianity, and (in their measure) their true Successors, communicate to Mankind, the Light, which themselves have receiv'd from the bright Sun of righteousness. And the Similitude may be advanc'd, by adding, that as the Moon shines not on the Earth, with any other Beams, than those she de∣rives from that fountain of Light, the Sun; so the true Preachers of the Heavenly Do∣ctrine mingle not their own Inventions, or humane Traditions, with that pure and sincere Light of Revelation, they are em∣ploi'd to dispense; it being safest, and most desirable, for the Church, that Christians should receive the Bread of Life, as the Jews are recorded to have receiv'd the ma∣terial Bread, in a passage of St. Matthew's Gospel, where 'tis said, that Christ first brake, and gave to the Disciples, the Bread, which they afterwards, from Him, distri∣buted to the People; so that they might each of them, in a literal sence, imploy that expression of St. Paul, I have received of the Lord, that which I delivered unto you.

And as though the Moon be destitute of native light, yet by vertue of that borrow'd one, which she plentifully receives from the Sun, she affords more to Men than any

of the Stars, which, upon the score of their vast distance from the Sun, are, by modern Naturalists, suppos'd to shine by their own Light, so those illiterate Fisher-men, whom the Sun of Righteousness call'd, and made the Light of the world, did, by vertue of the copious Irradiations he vouchsaf'd them, diffuse far more Light to mankind, than the greatest Philosophers, that, being unassisted by Divine Revelation, had onely their own native beams to shine with.

And as oftentimes the same Subject, but variously consider'd, may afford both some∣what fit to be shunn'd, and somewhat fit to be imitated; so, in that which we suppose our Reflector now considering, he may ea∣sily discern the Emblem of an ungrateful person: For as the Moon, though she re∣ceive all the Light that ennobles her from the Sun, does yet, when she is admitted to the nearest Conjunction with him, eclipse that bright Planet, to which she owes all her splendour; so unthankful men abuse those very favours that should endear to them their Benefactors, to the prejudice of those that oblige them.

And 'tis like that our Reflector may, by the way, take notice, That as what passes betwixt the Moon and the Sun, does thus afford him a Simile, whereby to set forth

Ingratitude; so what passes betwixt the Moon and the Sea, may supply him with an example of the contrary quality, and put him in mind, that a thankful man will be true and obsequious to his Benefactor, though the person that oblig'd him have lost that Prosperity that before made him con∣spicuous, and attracted vulgar eyes, as the Sea follows the course of the Moon, not onely when she shines upon it with her full Light, but when at the Change she can communicate little or no light to it.

To the two above-mentioned Attributes, upon whose account the Moon afforded a comparison for humane Prosperity, and an∣other for Preachers of the Gospel, we will now add, That she may afford us a Simili∣tude to set forth a liberal Person by: For as the Moon freely communicates to the Earth, the Light she receives from the Sun, so the bountiful person imparts to indigent men the Largesses he receives, from the exuberant goodness of God. And as to Intellectual Communications the Parallel will hold further, since as the Moon en∣joys not the less of Light, for her imparting so much to the Earth; so in Mental Com∣munications Liberality does not impove∣rish, and those excellent gifts cease not to be possess'd, by being imparted. And 'tis

very possible, (to add that upon the By) That after the light of the Moon has (accor∣ding to what I lately noted) represented to our Contemplator the qualifications of a Preacher, it may also put him in mind of the Duty of a Hearer. For, as it were very foolish in us, and unthankful towards the Father of Lights, not to make use of the great Light we receive from the Sun, by the Moon, or not to acknowledge the Moon to be a very useful Creature, upon the score of that Light, wherewith she shines upon the Earth, though, in her, that Light be destitute of Heat; so it were unwise and ungrateful for Hearers to refuse to acknow∣ledge, or to be guided by, the conspicuous Endowments of Learning and Eloquence, that God vouchsafes to great Scholars, though they themselves were but illustra∣ted, not warmed, by the Beams they re∣flect. But therefore, as Oysters, and other Shell-fish, are observ'd to thrive at the In∣crease of the Moon, though her Light be unattended with Heat, and though even when she is at Full, she wants not her spots, so devout Hearers will be careful to pro∣sper proportionably to the Instructions they receive even from those Preachers, whose Illuminations are unaccompani'd with Zeal and Charity, and who, when they shine

with the greatest Lustre, are not free from their Darknesses, as to some Points, or from notorious Blemishes.

And as the Moon may thus furnish our Contemplator with Similitudes, to set forth both a Vertue and a Vice of the Mind, so may it supply him with an Emblem of its Condition: For as the Light of the Moon is sometimes Increasing, and sometimes in the Wane, and not onely is sometimes to∣tally Eclips'd, but even when she is at the Full, is never free from dark Spots; so the mind of Man, nay, even of a Christian, is but partly enlighten'd, and partly in the dark, and is sometimes more, and some∣times less, Illustrated by the Beams of Hea∣venly Light, and Joy, and not alone now and then quite Eclipsed by disconsolate Desertions, but even when it receives the most Light, and shines the brightest, knows but in part, and is in part blemish'd by its native Darknesses, and Imperfections. And these Resemblances are not so appro∣priated to the mind of Man, but that they might easily be shewn to be applicable to his condition, in point of outward Prospe∣rity, and Adversity. And to these Resem∣blances other Reflections on the several Adjuncts of the Moon might be also added, together with several Examples of this na∣ture

on other Subjects, were it not that I think my self to have spent time enough already upon a Theme, that fell but inci∣dentally under my consideration; and were it not also, that the Reflections which might here be annex'd upon the Attributes of other Objects, may be more properly subjoyn'd to what may be on another occasion pre∣sented you, by way of Illustration of some Particulars, that belong to the fourth part of the precedent Section, in which my haste, and some other reasons, made me content my self, to give some few general Hints about such Reflections, and an Intimation of the Topicks whence I am wont to fetch them.

CHAP. III.

ANd having given you this Advertise∣ment, en passant, we may now proceed a little further, and add, that if we suppose our Contemplator's thoughts to descend from Heaven to Earth, the far greater mul∣titude and variety of Objects, they will meet with here below, will suggest to them much more numerous Reflections. But because so spacious a Field for Meditation as the whole Earth, would afford us too

vast a Theme to be attempted on this oc∣casion, we will confine our Contemplator to his Garden, or rather to any one of the Trees of it, and take notice, not of all the Meditations he might fetch thence, but onely of four or five of the considerablest of those, that the viewing it, may, as he walks by at several times, supply him with.

In then, in the Spring of the Year, our Reflector see the Gardener pruning a Fruit-tree, we may suppose him invited by that Object, to reason thus within himself: Though one that were a Stranger to the Art of Gardening, would think, that that Man is an Enemy to this Tree, and goes about to destroy it, since he falls upon and wounds it, with a sharp Iron, and strikes off several of its Youthful parts, as if he meant to cut it in pieces; yet, he that knows, that the Gardener's arm is not set on work by Anger, but by Skill, will not conclude that he hates the Tree he thus wounds, but that he has a mind to have it Fruitful, and judges these harsh means the fittest to pro∣duce that desirable Effect. And thus, what∣ever a Man, unacquainted with the ways and designs of Providence, may surmise, when he sees the Church not onely expos'd to the common Afflictions of humane Soci∣eties, (for that is but like our Trees being

expos'd to be weather-beaten by Winds, and Rain) but distress'd by such Persecu∣tions, as seem to be Divine Inflictions, that invite Men to say of the Body, what the Prophet fore-told should be said of the Head, We esteem'd him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. Whatever, I say, a carnal, or a moral, Man would be apt to imagine, upon sight of the Churches distresses; the knowing Christian will not from thence infer, that God hates Her, or that he has abandon'd Her, since 'tis He, that lov'd his Church so well, as to give Himself for it, who declares, that as many as He loves, He rebukes, and chastens. And this is so fitly applicable also to particular Believers, that the Divine Son of the great 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 do's not onely give us cause to think, that Afflictions do not suppose God's Hate, but to hope that they may not always suppose Man's Guilt, but sometimes rather aim at his Improvement; since they are the me∣morable words of our Saviour, speaking of his Father, Every branch in me, that beareth not Fruit, he taketh away, and every Branch that beareth Fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more Fruit. And it may some∣what illustrate the Similitude, to add, that the Husbandman uses onely to prune the Trees of his Garden, not those that grow

wild in his Woods: But though he oftner wound these, yet he wounds the other more fatally, imploying but the pruning Hook to pare off the superfluous Twiggs, or, at most, Branches, of the one, whil'st he lays the Ax to the root of the other, to fell the Tree it self.

But these are not the onely Thoughts, which the pruning of a Fruit-tree may sug∣gest to our Reflector: For if he considers, That by cutting off several of the parts of the Tree, and by Nailing many of the rest to the Wall, the Gardener do's not onely secure the Tree from being blown down, or torn, by the rudeneness of boisterous Winds, but makes it look well shap'd: So the Divine Husbandman, (as we have late∣ly seen God stil'd in the Scripture) by the wise, and seasonable, though seemingly ri∣gorous, and usually unwelcome, Culture, he imploys upon those Children of his whom he afflicts, do's not onely protect them from several dangers, whereto, without those harsh restraints, they would be expos'd; but as he makes them amends in point of Safe∣ty, for what he denies them in point of Li∣berty, so he adorns them by VVounding them. His kind and skilful stroaks adding as much to the Beauty of a Christian's Mind, as they cut away from the Super∣fluities

of his Fortune: For the pressures of Affliction do give so much smoothness and gloss to the Soul that bears them patiently, and resign'dly, that the Heathen Moralist ventur'd to say, That if there were any Spectacle here below noble enough, and worthy to entertain the Eyes of God, it was that of a Good Man, generously con∣tending with ill Fortune. And the Hyper∣bole (though after this manner somewhat loftily expressed) will appear the less strange to him that considers, That Job had not onely his Patience, when it had been tried to the uttermost, crown'd with a For∣tune double to that which had been the fairest in the East; but before his constancy was tried near so far, receiv'd that much higher recompence of an Honour never vouchsaf'd to Mortals until then, when God himself did not onely approve, but (if I may so speak with reverence) make his boast of, a Man. Hast thou consider'd (says he to Man's great Enemy) my Ser∣vant Job, that there is none like him in the Earth, a perfect, and an upright Man, one that feareth God, and escheweth Evil? and still he holdeth fast his Integrity, although thou moved'st me against him to destroy him with∣out cause. Sure one may call him more than happy Job, since, if, as David tells us, the

Man is happy whose sins God is pleas'd to cover; what may that Man be accounted, whose Graces he vouchsafes to proclaim?

CHAP. IV.

ANd as the consideration of the pruning of Trees, under the Notion of that which wounds them, may afford our Contem∣plator the Reflections already pointed at; so the considering of the same Action, under another Notion, may lead him to Refle∣ctions of another Nature: For if he ob∣serves, that, in certain cases, Gardeners of∣tentimes do not onely prune away all the Suckers, and many of the Luxuriant sprigs, but cut off some of the Branches themselves, provided they spare the Master boughs; and yet these Amputations, though they take much from the Tree, are design'd to add to the Fruit, as accordingly they are wont to do: If, I say, our Reflector takes notice of this, it may easily supply him with an illustration of what he may have observ'd among some Men, who, by Af∣flictions, ev'n in point of Fortune, are brought to be far more charitable than they would have been, if their peace and plenty had continued unimpair'd. As, besides that

Saint Paul, speaking of the Macedonian Churches, gives them this Character, That in a great trial of Affliction, the abundance of their Joy, and their deep Poverty, abounded unto the Riches of their Liberality; We have in Zacheus a memorable Instance to our present purpose, since, after his Repen∣tance had, by his own consent, cut off from his Estate more than all that Slander, Op∣pression, and other unjust ways of Getting, (which us'd to bring in but too great a part of a Publican's) had added to it; he gave away more, out of the Remainder of his Estate, than every liberal Man would have done out of the Whole. His Wealth, like a skilfully prun'd Tree bore the more Fruit to Piety; for having had some parts of it cut away, he grew Rich (in good works) by being despoil'd, and his Charity in∣creas'd as much as his Fortune was les∣sen'd.

If, towards the end of the Spring, our Reflector see the Ground under his Tree strowed with the Blossoms, that Time and Winds may have cast down thence, 'tis like it would furnish him with this conside∣ration, That, as though the Blossoms are in themselves great Ornaments to a Tree, and oftentimes both useful and pleasant things, yet to be seasonably depriv'd of them, is

not a mischief to the Tree that loses them; since, till the Blossoms are gone, the Fruit, which is a better and more lasting thing, and more principally intended by Nature, cannot be had: So it will not always fol∣low, that because certain things are in their kind desirable, and therefore may be rec∣koned among Goods, the loss or depra∣vation of them must necessarily be an Evil. And so, though a fair and healthy Body may be look'd upon as a Blessing, yet it will not follow, that a Death (as the Scripture speaks) either in or for the Lord, because it throws this flourishing Body to the Ground, and makes it rot there, must needs be a deplorable Evil; since, as the Blossoms falling off, is, according to the course of Nature, necessarily praevious to the formation, or at least the perfection, of the Fruit: So the being depriv'd of this Life, is, according to God's Ordination, a necessary Antecedent to our being inrich'd with those more solid and durable blessings of perfect Virtue and Happiness.

And if, whil'st our Contemplator's Tree is adorn'd with Leaves, as well as Blossoms, (as we often see several of the former come before all the latter are gone) he chance to take notice how busie the Bees are in suck∣ing these, whil'st they leave the others un∣touch'd,

he may peradventure make this, or some such other Reflection on it; That, though the Leaves be not onely Ornaments of a Tree, but Productions, often useful to shade and shelter the Fruit, and are of a more solid Texture, and a more durable Nature than the Blossoms, which seem to be of a slighter make, and rather gawdy and delightful than lasting; yet 'tis not about the Leaves, but the Blossoms, that the in∣dustrious Bee assiduously imploys her time, as sucking from those gawdy productions of the Tree, store of that Honey which the Leaves would not afford her.

Thus, though the Books written about Dogmatical and Controversial points in Divinity, may be in their kind valuable and useful productions of skill in Theology, and may seem more strong and substantial Com∣posures, and likely to retain their Reputa∣tions longer, than Books of Devotion; yet 'tis of these, rather than those, that the de∣vout Christian will be a sollicitous Peruser; since 'tis not from barren, though solid As∣sertions or Disputes, but from florid and pathetical Books of Devotion, which first allure the Reader, and then affect him, that the devout Soul extracts her Honey, I mean those Caelestial pleasures that result from, as well as maintain, a free communion with

God, which does at once both exercise her Devotion, and recompense it, and afford her, as Flowers do the Bee, an Aliment equally Nutritive and Delicious.

And he may somewhat illustrate, as well as continue, the Allusion further, by consi∣dering, That Silk-worms that live upon Leaves, and Bees that feed on Flowers and Blossoms, do indeed both of them thrive upon their respective Aliments, and are thereby enabled to present Men with useful productions, but with this difference; That the subtil threds of Silk-worms serve prin∣cipally to cloath others, whereas the Honey that is elaborated by the Bee, does not onely supply others with a healing and cleansing Medicine in some Distempers, but affords a great deal of pleasure to the Bee her self: For thus, though as well the diligent Studiers of Speculative and Polemical Divinity, as the careful Perusers of Books of Devotion, may be advantag'd by what they Study, yet this difference may be observ'd betwixt them, that the former may, by the Discourses they read, be assisted to write others of the like Nature, whereby their Readers may be enabled to talk with more Acuteness, and Applause, but the latter may not onely be assisted by making such Composures as they assiduously converse with, to contribute to

the cleansing of Men's Consciences from Dead works, and as well pacific the troubles of their Minds, as heal the Wounds which Schism or Scandal may have given to the Church; but do often, in the first place, feel themselves all the Joys, and Advantages, they would procure to others, and they hap∣pily find Pious Reflections, Devout Solilo∣quies, Ardent Ejaculations, and other Mental Entertainments of a Religious Soul, to be of a Nature not onely so sweet, but so im∣proving, and so advantageous, that whil'st many other laudable Imployments recom∣mend us to the Students of Theology, these more especially recommend us to the Au∣thor of it, and indear us to God himself.

If when our Fruit-tree has chang'd its white Livery for a Green, our Considerer chance to take notice how thick 'tis set with Leaves, of which it had not one some Moneths before, it may possibly put him in mind of the Instability of their condition, that are undeservedly envied for a Nume∣rous train of such seeming Friends, and gawdy Attendants, as are so to the Fortune, rather than the Person: For, as in the Sun∣shiny moneths of Summer, when the fair weather would keep the Tree warm enough without the help of Leaves, it is wont to be cover'd with those Verdant Ornaments, but

loses them all in Winter, when it needs their shelter from the Rigors of that Cold season: So those, that during the Sun-shine of prosperity, are beset with seeming Friends, of which they had no need, find themselves left naked, and forsaken of them all, when Adversity would make their Com∣pany of some Advantage. If our Contem∣plator chance to observe how his Tree flou∣rishes with verdant Leaves, and gawdy Blos∣soms, at that Season of the Year, when it is providing to bring forth Fruit, it may put him in mind of the pleas'dness and alacrity, with which a Charitable person should set himself to the doing of good, and mind him, That as the God of Nature loves a cheerful Giver, so the temper of a liberal Person is pointed out by Nature her self, in a Tree, which seems to triumph in all the Ornaments it can put on, when it is about to exhaust the greatest part of its own stock of Sap to pro∣duce Fruits which onely others are to eat.

If he take notice of the order wherein 'tis usual for the Leaves and Blossoms to pre∣cede the Fruit, it may possibly invite him to look with a more favourable Eye upon the green and immature Essays of early Wri∣ters, if they discover, that the Author aims at good things, though he does not yet per∣form great ones: For, however these Youth∣ful

productions of the Pen are commonly rather pleasing and florid, than otherwise considerable, yet if they be good for their Season, and in their Kind, though that kind it self be not of the usefullest, they may de∣serve pardon, and perhaps incouragement; since, though they be not yet solid, they may promise something that will be so; and ev'n the best Trees present us their Blossoms, before they give us their Fruit.

If the same Contemplator happens to see young people first shake the Tree in vain, and then climb it to gather unripe Fruit, it may afford him a representation of Men's over-eager and untimely persuits of several desir∣able things, and especially of Honour: For, as green Fruit, though of a good Kind, will not easily be shaken down by them that would gather it, but reduces them either to climb the Tree, or forcibly strike it off, which commonly bruises, and disfigures what it procures; and as the Fruit, when thus ob∣tain'd, is but sowr, and unwholsome, being neither sweetned nor concocted by Maturity, so that it usually both sets the Teeth on edge, and breeds Sickness in the Body, whereas, if the same Fruit were let alone till it were fully Ripe, and in Season, it would both rea∣dily drop into the Eater's mouth, and prove delicious, and more wholsome Food: So,

when we greedily pursue after Honour, and Pleasure, of which this Life is not the proper Season, we not onely meet with Difficulties in acquiring them, but find not, in possessing them, either that Satisfaction, or that Advan∣tage, that the Eagerness of our unruly Appe∣tites promises us; whereas, if we would stay contentedly till God's time be come, (which is always the best, and fittest) we should not steal, or force, but receive unfading Ho∣nours, and uncloying Delights, by being pre∣sented with Incorruptible Crowns of Glory, by him, with whom there is fulness of Joy, and at whose right hand (the Station design'd for those that overcome the World's Allure∣ments, and their own Impatience) there are Pleasures for evermore; that is, Eternal ones.

Lastly, if towards the end of Summer, or of Autumn, our Reflector, coming to visit his Instructive Tree, find it present him store of Fruit, and perhaps observes it to be grown taller since the last Winter, each Bough will afford him a lively Emblem of a true Believer. For, as the loaded Branch makes use of the moisture it attracts from the dirty ground, to recede as much as it can from the Earth, and spends its sap in shoot∣ing up towards Heaven, and bearing Fruit for Men: so the devout Christian im∣proves

the Blessings he receives of this in∣feriour World, to elevate his mind above it: And the use that he makes of earthly Goods, and Advantages, is to raise his grateful Soul nearer to God, and dispense them by works of Charity to men.

CHAP. V.

THese (Sophronia) are some, and but some, of the Thoughts, which the Occasional Consideration of a Fruit-tree might suggest to a Considering Person. And if we should lead our Reflector from the Garden to the Woods, or to the River side, or into the Fields, or to the Street, or to a Library, or to the Exchange, or, in a word, to I know not how many other places I could name, I have some reason to think, that each of them would supply him with variety of Occasional Meditations. Where∣fore, since the want of Themes will not, 'tis fit that somewhat else should, place Bounds to this Discourse. And since, by finding, that I my self begin to be weary of writing, I have too much cause to fear that you are quite tir'd with reading, I think it high time to hasten to a Conclusion: Onely, before I make one, I must do our Meleteticks the

right to advertise you, that you would do them wrong if you should imagine, that in the pass'd Discourse I have either carefully enumerated, or fully displai'd, the Advan∣tages, which a devout and ingenious Con∣templator may derive from the Exercise of the ways of Thinking I have been treating of. For, though I have in the past Discourse, especially those parts of it that are contain'd in the 3^d precedent, and in this present 4^th Section, said enough to recommend the Sub∣ject to any that is not much indispos'd to be prevail'd with; yet I will not deny, but that, even in those two Sections, I have left much unsaid.

For, besides the several Advantages and ways of making Occasional Meditations al∣ready pointed at, there are other accounts upon which the practice I would persuade may both benefit a pious Soul, and be made use of by an ingenious one. For the respects one thing may have to another are so num∣berless, and the mind of a rational man, vers'd in Meditations, may compound and disjoyn Notions so many ways, and may make such Inferences from them, and such Applications of them, that it frequently happens, that besides the Reflection, sug∣gested by that which gave the first Rise to his Meditations, he lights upon Conceipts

differing enough from them, and perhaps better than they: As when Hounds, hunting a Hare, meet in their way with a Stag. For, though Philosophers seem to have justly enough rejected the Opinion, attributed to Plato, That all Knowledge is but Reminiscence, yet certainly the Mind of a Man well fur∣nish'd with variety of Notions, is, by the Ana∣logy or Contrariety of Things and Notions, in reference to each other, so easily and rea∣dily excited to lay them together, and dis∣course upon them, that he is oftentimes by any sleight occasion helped to light (and that with a strange and almost surprizing fa∣cility) upon things that he would else have scarce taken the least notice of. When the Mind is once set on work, though the Occa∣sion administred the first Thoughts, yet those thoughts themselves, may, as well as the Object that excited them, become the Themes of further Meditation: and the Connection of Thoughts within the Mind, may be, and frequently is, so latent, and so strange, that the Meditator will oftentimes admire to see how far the Notions he is at length lead to, are removed from those which the first Rise of his Meditation sug∣gested. And by these Incidental Excursions he may sometimes be as much delighted and surpris'd, as Samson was, when going aside

to look upon the Carcass of a Lion, he met with a Stock of Honey.

But I can add one thing towards the in∣ducing you to exercise your self in the way of Thinking, we have all this while been speaking of, which though I had almost for∣got to take notice of, it will, I doubt not, seem important to Sophronia, to whom it need not be a discouragement from aiming at one of the noblest uses of Occasional Re∣flections, that it supposes not a bare acquain∣tance with them, but springs from an entire and (if I may so speak) intimate familiarity with our Meleteticks. For this use of Occa∣sional Meditations, though it do but gradu∣ally differ from some of those that have been already mentioned, will perhaps by the de∣vout (and consequently by Sophronia) be esteemed the highest Advantage that this way of Thinking can confer; and it is, That the custom of making Occasional Reflections may insensibly, and by unperceiv'd degrees, work the Soul to a certain frame, or temper, which may not improperly be called Hea∣venly Mindedness, whereby she acquires an aptitude and disposition to make pious Re∣flections upon almost every Occurrence, and oftentimes without particularly designing it. But as this privilege will, as I was intima∣ting, scarce fall to the share of any but those

that, by long or frequent Exercise, have so accustom'd their minds to reflect upon what they see, that they continue that practice, as it were, of their own accord; so when once, by such a constant kindness and hospitable∣ness to such thoughts, that they will, as it were, come to the mind without calling, and make themselves its guests, without parti∣cular Invitations, the Soul has attain'd that desirable Frame we lately call'd Heavenly mindedness, which is a Disposition and a Readiness to make Spiritual uses of Earthly things, both the Advantage and the Delight of that frame of heart cannot but be extra∣ordinary. It must surely afford a great deal of satisfaction to an Ingenious and Devout person, to be able to make the world both his Library and his Oratory. And which way soever he turns his eyes (not onely up∣on unobvious things, but even upon the most familiar ones) to behold something that instructs, or that delights him. And to find that almost every object that presents it self to his notice, presents also good Thoughts to his Mind, to be gather'd with as much Innocency and Pleasure, and with as little prejudice to the things that afford them, as Honey is gather'd by the industri∣ous Bee from the differing Flowers she meets with in her way. Certainly, if we

would carefully lay hold on, and duly man∣age, this help, it would prove a powerful Remedy to prevent or cure much of that Dulness and Drousiness, that do so fre∣quently smother or blemish our Devotion. There would scarce any thing pass us, out of which we would not strike some spark or other of that Heavenly Fire, or that would not contribute something, either to kindle it, or to feed it, or to revive it. If but half the pretious time we impertinently trifle, or squander away, upon Employments that will be sure to cost us either Tears or Blushes, were carefully laid out in the culti∣vating of this kind of Thoughts, it might of∣ten save our Ministers the labour of insisting so long upon the Uses of their Doctrines, when the whole VVorld would be a Pulpit, every Creature turn a Preacher, and almost every Accident suggest an Use of Instru∣ction, Reproof, or Exhortation. No Burial but would toll a Passing-bell to put us in mind of our Mortality: No Feast but would make us aspire to the Marriage-feast of the Lamb: No Cross but would add to our De∣sires to be dissolv'd and to be with Christ: No Mercy but would be a fresh Engage∣ment unto Obedience to so good a Master as the Author of it: No Happiness of others, but would prove an Encouragement to serve

him that can give That, and much greater: No Misery of others, but would awake and heighten our Gratitude, that we are privi∣ledg'd from It: No Sin in our Neighbours, that would not disswade us from what we see look'd so unhandsomely in others: Nor any Virtue of theirs, but would excite our Emulation, and spur us on to imitate or sur∣pass It. In a word, when the devout Soul is come to make that true use of the Creatures, as to look upon them as men do upon water, that the Sun gilds with his Beams, that is, not so much for it self as for the Reflective vertue it has to represent a more glorious Object; and when she has, by long practice, accustom'd her self to spiritualize all the Objects and Accidents that occur to her, I see not why that practice may not be one of the most effectual means for making good that magnificent Assertion of the Apostle, That all things work together for good to them that love God. A devout Occasional Medi∣tation, from how low a Theme soever it takes its Rise, being like Jacob's Ladder, whereof though the foot lean'd on the Earth, the top reach'd up to Heaven.

Notes

• So Juni∣us and Tremelius translate the place, Quàm ampla sunt opera tua, O Jehova, quàm ea omnia sapienter fecisti? and so the Origi∣nal will bear, if the Hebrew Ma, be made applicable as well to the latter, as to the former part of the words.
• Ps. 104. 24.
• Ps. 144. 3.
• Psal. 8. 3, 4.
• Mat. 15. 36▪
• 1 Cor. 11. 3.
• Isaiah 53. 4.
• John 15. 2.
• That is, Cultivator of the Ground.
• John 15. 2.
• Job 2. 3.
• Psal. 32. 1.
• 2 Cor. 8. 2.
• Luk. 19.
• 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• Revel. 14. 13.
• 1 Pet. 5. 4.
• Psal. 16. 11.
• Judges 14. 8.
• Rom. 8. 28.
• Gen. 28. 12.