Twelve sermons preached upon several occasions by Robert South ... ; six of them never before printed.

A SERMON Preached at the Cathedral Church of S. PAUL, Novemb. 9th. 1662.

To the Right Honourable, The Lord Mayor and Aldermen Of the City of LONDON.

Right Honourable,

WHen I consider how impossible it is for a person of my condition to produce, and consequently how imprudent to attempt, any thing in proportion either to the Ampleness of the Body you repre∣sent, or of the Places you bear, I should be kept from venturing so poor a piece, designed to live but an hour, in so lasting a Publication; did not what your Civility calls a Request, your Greatness render a Command. The truth is, in things not unlawful great Persons cannot be properly said to request, because, all things con∣sidered, they must not be denyed. To me it was Honour enough to have your Audience; enjoy∣ment enough to behold your happy Change, and to see the same City, the Metropolis of Loyalty and of the Kingdom; to behold the Glory of En∣glish Churches reformed, that is, delivered from the Reformers; and to find at least the service

of the Church repaired, though not the build∣ings; to see St. Paul's delivered from Beasts here, as well as St. Paul at Ephesus: and to view the Church thronged onely with Troops of Auditors, not of Horse. This I could fully have acquiesced in, and received a large personal reward in my Particular share of the publick Ioy; but since you are further plea∣sed, I will not say by your Iudgment to approve, but by your Acceptance to encourage the raw Endeavours of a young Divine, I shall take it for an Opportunity, not as others in their sage Prudence use to do, to quote three or four Texts of Scripture, and to tell you how you are to Rule the City out of a Concordance; no, I bring not Instructions, but what much better befits both you and my self, your Commendations. For I look upon your City as the great and mag∣nificent stage of Business, and by consequence the best place of Improvement; for from the School we go to the University, but from the U∣niversities to London. And therefore as in your City-Meetings you must be esteemed the most considerable Body of the Nation; so met

in the Church, I look upon you as an Auditory fit to be waited on, as you are, by both Universities. And when I remember how instrumental you have been to recover this universal settlement, and to retrieve the old Spirit of Loyalty to Kings (as an ancient testimony of which you bear not the Sword in vain) I seem in a man∣ner deputed from Oxford, not so much a Prea∣cher to supply a course, as Oratour to present her thanks. As for the ensuing Discourse, which, (lest I chance to be traduced for a Plagi∣ary by him who has play'd the thief) I think fit to tell the world by the way, was one of those that by a worthy hand were stoln from me in the Kings Chappel and are still detained; and to which now accidentally published by your Ho∣nours Order, your Patronage must give both va∣lue, and protection. You will find me in it not to have pitcht upon any subject, that men's guilt, and the consequent of guilt, their concern∣ment might render liable to exception; nor to have rubbed up the memory of what some here∣tofore in the City did, which more and better now detest, and therefore expiate: but my sub∣ject is inoffensive; harmless, and innocent as

the state of innocence it self, and (I hope) sui∣table to the present design and Genius of this Nation; which is or should be, to return to that Innocence, which it lost long since the fall. Briefly, my business is, by describing what Man was in his first estate, to upbraid him with what he is in his present: between whom Innocent, and Fallen (that in a word I may suit the sub∣ject to the place of my discourse) there is as great an unlikeness, as between S. Paul's a Ca∣thedral, and S. Paul's a Stable. But I must not forestall my self, nor transcribe the work in∣to the Dedication. I shall now only desire you to accept the issue of your own requests; the gratification of which I have here consulted so much before my own reputation: while like the poor Widow I endeavour to shew my offici∣ousness by an offering, though I betray my po∣verty by the measure; not so much caring though I appear neither Preacher nor Scholar, (which terms we have been taught upon good reason to distinguish) so I may in this but shew my self

Your Honours very humble Servant, Robert South.

Worcester-house, Nov. 24. 1662.

GENESIS 1.27.

So God created man in his own Image, in the image of God created he him.

HOW hard it is for Natural Reason to discover a Creation before re∣vealed, or being revealed to believe it, the strange opinions of the old Philo∣sophers, and the Infidelity of modern A∣theists, is too sad a Demonstration. To run the world back to its first original and Infancy; and (as it were) to view Nature in its cradle, to trace the out∣goings of the Ancient of days in the first Instance and Specimen of his Creative Power, is a research too great for any mortal Enquiry: and we might conti∣nue our Scrutiny to the end of the World, before Natural Reason would be able to find out when it begun.

Epicurus his Discourse concerning the Original of the World is so fabulous and ridiculously merry, that we may well judge the Design of his Philosophy to have been Pleasure, and not Instruction.

Aristotle held, That it streamed by con∣natural Result and Emanation from God, the Infinite and Eternal Mind, as the Light issues from the Sun; so that there was no Instant of Duration as∣signable of God's eternal existence, in which the World did not also co-exist.

Others held a Fortuitous Concourse of Atoms. But all seem joyntly to explode a Creation; still beating upon this ground, that to produce Something out of Nothing is Impossible and Incomprehen∣sible. Imcomprehensible indeed I grant, but not therefore Impossible. There is not the least transaction of sense and mo∣tion in the whole man, but Philosophers are at a loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain, it. Wherefore it is not always rational to measure the truth

of an assertion by the standard of our Ap∣prehension.

But to bring things even to the bare perceptions of Reason, I appeal to any one, who shall impartially reflect upon the Idea's and Conceptions of his own mind, whether he doth not find it as ea∣sie and suitable to his Natural Notions, to conceive that an Infinite Almighty Power might produce a thing out of nothing, and make that to exist De Novo, which did not exist before; as to conceive the World to have had no Beginning, but to have existed from Eternity: Which, were it so proper for this place and exer∣cise, I could easily demonstrate to be at∣tended with no small train of absurdities. But then, besides that the acknowledging of a Creation is safe, and the denial of it dangerous and irreligious, and yet not more (perhaps much less) demonstrable than the affirmative; so over and above it gives me this advantage, That, let it seem never so strange, uncouth, and impossi∣ble,

the Nonplus of my Reason will yield a fairer opportunity to my Faith.

In this Chapter we have God survey∣ing the works of the Creation, and lea∣ving this general Impress or Character upon them, That they were exceeding good. What an Omnipotence wrought, we have an Omniscience to approve. But as it is reasonable to imagine that there is more of design, and consequently more of perfection, in the last work, we have God here giving his last stroke, and sum∣ming up all into Man, the Whole into a Part, the Universe into an Individual: so that whereas in other Creatures we have but the Trace of his Footsteps, in Man we have the Draught of his hand. In him were united all the scattered per∣fections of the Creature; all the Graces and Ornaments, all the Airs and Fea∣tures of Being, were abridged into this small, yet full System of Nature and Di∣vinity. As we might well imagine that the great Artificer would be more than

ordinarily exact in Drawing his own Picture.

The Work that I shall undertake from these words, shall be to shew what this Image of God in Man is, and wherein it doth consist. Which I shall do these two ways: 1. Negatively, by shewing where∣in it does not consist. 2. Positively, by shewing wherein it does.

For the first of these we are to remove the erroneous opinion of the Socinians. They deny that the Image of God con∣sisted in any Habitual Perfections that adorned the Soul of Adam: But as to his Understanding bring him in Void of all Notion, a rude unwritten Blank; ma∣king him to be created as much an In∣fant as others are born; sent into the world only to read and spell out a God in the Works of Creation, to learn by degrees, till at length his Understanding grew up to the stature of his Body. Also without any inherent habits of Vertue in his Will; thus divesting him of all, and

stripping him to his bare Essence. So that all the perfection they allowed his Under∣standing was Aptness and Docility, and all that they attributed to his Will was a possibility to be Vertuous.

But wherein then according to their opinion did this Image of God consist? Why, in that Power and Dominion that God gave Adam over the Creatures: In that he was vouched his immediate De∣puty upon Earth, the Viceroy of the Cre∣ation, and Lord Lieutenant of the World. But that this Power and Dominion is not adequately and formally the Image of God, but only a part of it, is clear from hence; because then he that had most of this, would have most of God's Image: And consequently Nimrod had more of it than Noah, Saul than Samuel, the Persecutors than the Martyrs, and Caesar than Christ himself, which to assert is a Blasphemous Paradox. And if the Image of God is only Grandeur, Power and Sovereignty, certainly we have been hitherto much

mistaken in our Duty: and hereafter are by all means to beware of making our selves unlike God, by too much Self-denial and Humility. I am not ignorant that some may distinguish between 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, between a Lawfull Authority and an Actual Power; and affirm, that God's Image consists only in the former: which wicked Princes, such as Saul and Nimrod, have not, though they possess the latter. But to this I answer,

• 1. That the Scripture neither makes nor owns such a distinction, nor any where asserts, that when princes begin to be wicked, they cease of right to be Go∣vernours. Add to this, that when God renewed this Charter of Man's Sovereign∣ty over the Creatures to Noah and his fa∣mily, we find no exception at all, but that Cham stood as fully invested with this Right as any of his Brethren.
• 2. But secondly, This savours of some∣thing ranker than Socinianism, even the Tenents of the Fifth Monarchy, and of

• Sovereignty founded only upon Saint∣ship; and therefore fitter to be answer∣ed by the Judge, than by the Divine; and to receive its confutation at the Bar of Justice, than from the Pulpit.

Having now made our way through this false Opinion, we are in the next place to lay down positively what this Image of God in Man is. It is in short, That Universal Rectitude of all the faculties of the Soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to their respective Offices and Opera∣tions. Which will be more fully set forth, by taking a distinct survey of it, in the se∣veral faculties belonging to the soul.

• 1. In the Understanding.
• 2. In the Will.
• 3. In the Passions or Affections.

1. And first for its noblest faculty, the Understanding: It was then sublime, clear, and aspiring, and, as it were, the soul's upper region, lofty and serene, free from the vapours and disturbances of the inferiour affections. It was the leading,

controlling faculty; all the Passions wore the colours of Reason; it did not so much perswade, as command; it was not Con∣sul but Dictator. Discourse was then al∣most as quick as Intuition; it was nim∣ble in proposing, firm in concluding; it could sooner determine than now it can dispute. Like the Sun, it had both light and agility; it knew no rest but in moti∣on; no quiet, but in activity. It did not so properly apprehend, as irradiate the Object; not so much find, as make things intelligible. It did arbitrate upon the several Reports of sense, and all the varieties of Imagination; not like a drou∣sie judge, only hearing, but also direct∣ing their Verdict. In sum, it was vegete, quick, and lively; open as the Day, un∣tainted as the Morning, full of the inno∣cence and spriteliness of Youth; it gave the Soul a bright and a full view into all things, and was not only a Window, but it self the Prospect. Briefly, there is as much difference between the clear Re∣presentations

of the understanding then, and the obscure discoveries that it makes now, as there is between the Prospect of a Casement, and of a Key-hole.

Now as there are two great functions of the Soul, Contemplation, and Practice, according to that general division of Ob∣jects, some of which only entertain our Speculation, others also imploy our Acti∣ons; so the Understanding with relation to these, not because of any distinction in the faculty it self, is accordingly divi∣ded into Speculative and Practick; in both of which the Image of God was then apparent.

1. For the Understanding Speculative. There are some general Maxims and No∣tions in the mind of Man, which are the rules of Discourse, and the basis of all Phi∣losophy. As that the same thing cannot at the same time be, and not be. That the Whole is bigger than a Part. That two Proportions equal to a third, must also be equal to one an∣other. Aristotle indeed affirms the Mind to

be at first a meer Rasa tabula; and that these Notions are not ingenite, and im∣printed by the finger of Nature, but by the latter and more languid impressions of sense; being only the Reports of observa∣tion, and the Result of so many repeated Experiments.

But to this I answer two things.

• 1. That these Notions are universal, and what is universal must needs proceed from some Universal, constant Principle, the same in all particulars; which here can be nothing else but humane Nature.
• 2. These cannot be infused by obser∣vation, because they are the rules by which men take their first apprehensions and ob∣servations of things, and therefore in or∣der of Nature must needs precede them: As the being of the Rule must be before its application to the thing directed by it. From whence it follows, that these were Notions not descending from us, but born with us; not our Off-spring, but our Brethren; and (as I may so say) such as

• we were taught without the help of a Teacher.

Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of innocence to have these clear and unsullied. He came into the World a Phi∣losopher, which sufficiently appeared by his writing the Nature of things upon their Names: he could view Essences in themselves, and read Forms without the comment of their respective Properties: he could see Consequents yet dormant in their principles, and effects yet unborn and in the Womb of their Causes: his un∣derstanding could almost pierce into fu∣ture contingents; his conjectures impro∣ving even to Prophecy, or the certainties of Prediction; till his fall it was ignorant of nothing but of Sin; or at least it rested in the notion without the smart of the Experiment. Could any difficulty have been proposed, the resolution would have been as early as the proposal; it could not have had time to settle into Doubt. Like a better Archimedes, the issue of all his En∣quiries

was an 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, an 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the off∣spring of his Brain without the sweat of his Brow. Study was not then a Duty, night∣watchings were needless; the light of Reason wanted not the assistance of a Can∣dle. This is the doom of fallen man to labour in the fire, to seek truth in profundo, to exhaust his time and impair his health, and perhaps to spin out his days, and himself into one pitifull, controverted Conclusion. There was then no poring, no struggling with memory, no straining for Invention. His faculties were quick and expedite; they answered without knock∣ing, they were ready upon the first sum∣mons, there was freedom, and firmness in all their Operations. I confess 'tis difficult for us who date our ignorance from our first Being, and were still bred up with the same infirmities about us, with which we were born, to raise our thoughts, and imagination to those intellectual perfecti∣ons that attended our Nature in the time of Innocence; as it is for a Peasant bred

up in the obscurities of a Cottage, to fan∣sie in his mind the unseen splendours of a Court. But by rating Positives by their Privatives, and other Arts of Reason, by which discourse supplies the want of the Reports of sense, we may collect the Ex∣cellency of the Understanding then, by the glorious remainders of it now, and guess at the stateliness of the building, by the magnificence of its ruins. All those arts, rarities, and inventions, which vul∣gar minds gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire, are but the reliques of an Intellect defaced with Sin and Time. We admire it now, only as Antiquaries do a piece of old Coin, for the Stamp it once bore, and not for those vanishing li∣neaments, and disappearing draughts, that remain upon it at present. And cer∣tainly, that must needs have been very glorious, the decayes of which are so ad∣mirable. He that is comely, when old and decrepit, surely was very beautifull, when he was young. An Aristotle was but the

rubbish of an Adam, and Athens but the ru∣diments of Paradise.

2. The Image of God was no less re∣splendent in that, which we call man's Practical Understanding; namely, that store-house of the Soul, in which are treasured up the rules of Action, and the seeds of Morality. Where, we must ob∣serve, that many, who deny all Connate Notions in the Speculative Intellect, do yet admit them in this. Now of this sort are these Maxims, That God is to be wor∣shipped. That Parents are to be honoured. That a man's word is to be kept, and the like; which, being of universal influence, as to the regulation of the behaviour, and converse of mankind, are the ground of all vertue, and civility, and the founda∣tion of Religion.

It was the Privilege of Adam Inno∣cent, to have these Notions also firm and untainted, to carry his Monitor in his bo∣som, his Law in his heart, and to have such a Conscience, as might be its own

Casuist: And certainly those Actions must needs be regular, where there is an Identity between the rule and the faculty. His own mind taught him a due depen∣dance upon God, and chalked out to him the just proportions, and measures of be∣haviour to his fellow-creatures. He had no Catechism but the Creation, needed no Study but Reflection, read no Book but the volume of the world, and that too not for Rules to work by, but for Objects to work upon. Reason was his Tutor, and First principles his magna moralia. The Decalogue of Moses was but a Tran∣script, not an Original. All the Laws of Nations and wise Decrees of State, the Statutes of Solon, and the twelve Tables, were but a paraphrase upon this standing rectitude of Nature, this fruitfull principle of Justice, that was ready to run out, and enlarge it self into suitable determinations, upon all emergent objects, and occasions. Justice then was neither blind to discern, nor lame to execute. It was not subject to

be imposed upon by a deluded fancy, nor yet to be bribed by a glozing appe∣tite, for an Utile or Iucundum to turn the balance to a false or dishonest sentence. In all its directions of the inferiour facul∣ties, it conveyed its suggestions with clear∣ness, and enjoyned them with power; it had the Passions in perfect subjection; and though its command over them was but suasive, and political, yet it had the force of coaction, and despotical. It was not then, as it is now, where the Conscience has only power to disapprove, and to pro∣test against the exorbitances of the Passi∣ons; and rather to wish, than make them otherwise. The voice of Conscience now is low, and weak, chastising the Passions, as old Eli did his lustfull, domineering Sons; Not so, my Sons, not so: but the voice of Conscience then was not, This should, or this ought to be done; but this must, this shall be done. It spoke like a Legislator: the thing spoke was a Law: and the manner of speaking it a new

Obligation. In short, there was as great a disparity between the Practical dictates of the understanding then, and now, as there is between empire and advice, coun∣sel and command, between a companion and a governour.

And thus much for the Image of God as it shone in man's understanding.

2. Let us in the next place take a view of it, as it was stamped upon the Will. It is much disputed by Divines concern∣ing the power of man's will to Good and Evil in the state of Innocence; and upon very nice, and dangerous precipices stand their determinations on either side. Some hold that God invested him with a power to stand, so that in the strength of that power received, he might without the auxiliaries of any further influence have de∣termined his will to a full choice of good. Others hold, that notwithstanding this power, yet it was impossible for him, to exert it in any good action, without a su∣peradded assistance of grace, actually de∣termining

that power to the certain pro∣duction of such an act. So that, whereas some distinguish between sufficient and effectual grace; they order the matter so, as to acknowledge none sufficient, but what is indeed effectual, and actually pro∣ductive of a good action. I shall not presume to interpose dogmatically in a controversie, which I look never to see de∣cided. But concerning the latter of these Opinions, I shall only give these two re∣marks.

• 1. That it seems contrary to the com∣mon and natural conceptions of all mankind, who acknowledge themselves able, and sufficient to do many things, which actu∣ally they never do.
• 2. That to assert, that God looked upon Adam's fall as a sin, and punished it as such, when, without any antecedent sin of his, he withdrew that actual grace from him, upon the withdrawing of which, it was impossible for him not to fall, seems a thing that highly reproaches

• the essential equity and goodness of the divine Nature.

Wherefore doubtless the will of man in the state of Innocence, had an entire freedom, a perfect equipendency and in∣difference to either part of the contradic∣tion, to stand, or not to stand; to accept, or not accept the temptation. I will grant the Will of man now to be as much a slave as any one will have it, and be only free to Sin; that is, instead of a liberty, to have only a licentiousness; yet certain∣ly this is not Nature, but Chance. We were not born crooked, we learnt these windings and turnings of the Serpent: and therefore it cannot but be a blasphemous piece of ingratitude to ascribe them to God; and to make the plague of our Nature the Condition of our Creation.

The Will was then ductile, and pliant to all the motions of right Reason, it met the dictates of a clarified understanding half way. And the Active informations of the Intellect, filling the Passive reception

of the Will, like Form closing with Matter, grew actuate into a third, and distinct perfection of Practice: The Understand∣ing and Will never disagreed, for the pro∣posals of the one never thwarted the in∣clinations of the other. Yet neither did the Will servilely attend upon the Under∣standing, but as a favourite does upon his Prince, where the Service is Privilege, and Preferment; or as Solomon's servants waited upon him, it admired its wis∣dom, and heard its prudent dictates, and counsels, both the direction, and the re∣ward of its obedience. It is indeed the nature of this faculty to follow a Superi∣our guide, to be drawn by the Intellect; but then it was drawn, as a Triumphant Chariot, which at the same time both follows and triumphs; while it obeyed this, it commanded the other faculties. It was subordinate, not enslaved to the Un∣derstanding: Not as a Servant to a Ma∣ster, but as a Queen to her King; who both acknowledges a Subjection, and yet re∣tains a Majesty.

Pass we now downward from man's Intellect and Will,

3. To the Passions; which have their residence and situation chiefly in the Sen∣sitive Appetite. For we must know, that inasmuch as man is a compound and mixture of Flesh as well as Spirit, the soul during its abode in the body, does all things by the mediation of these Passions, and inferiour affections. And here the Opinion of the Stoicks was famous and singular, who look'd upon all these, as sinfull defects and irregularities, as so ma∣ny deviations from right Reason, making Passion to be only another word for Per∣turbation. Sorrow in their esteem was a sin scarce to be expiated by another; to pitty was a fault, to rejoyce an extravagance, and the Apostle's advice, to be angry and sin not, was a contradiction in their Phi∣losophy. But in this, they were constantly out-voted by other Sects of Philosophers, neither for fame, nor number less than themselves: So that all arguments brought

against them from Divinity would come in by way of overplus to their confutation. To us let this be sufficient, that our Sa∣viour Christ, who took upon him all our natural infirmities, but none of our sinfull, has been seen to Weep, to be Sorrowfull, to Pitty, and to be Angry. Which shews that there might be gall in a Dove, passion without Sin, fire without smoke, and mo∣tion without disturbance. For it is not bare agitation, but the sediment at the bottom, that troubles and defiles the Wa∣ter. And when we see it windy and du∣sty, the wind does not (as we use to say) make, but only raise a dust.

Now, though the Schools reduce all the Passions to these two heads, the concu∣piscible, and the irascible Appetite: yet, I shall not tie my self to an exact prosecu∣tion of them under this Division; but at this time leaving both their terms and their method to themselves, consider on∣ly the principal and most noted Passions, from whence we may take an estimate of the rest.

And first, for the grand leading affec∣tion of all, which is Love. This is the great Instrument and Engine of Nature, the bond and cement of Society, the spring and spirit of the Universe. Love is such an affection, as cannot so properly be said to be in the Soul, as the Soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapt up into one desire, all the powers, vigour and faculties of the Soul abridged into one in∣clination. And it is of that active, rest∣less nature, that it must of necessity exert it self; and like the fire, to which it is so often compared, it is not a free Agent, to choose whether it will heat or no, but it streams forth by natural results, and una∣voidable emanations. So that it will fa∣sten upon an inferiour, unsuitable Object, rather than none at all. The Soul may sooner leave off to subsist, than to love; and like the Vine, it withers and dies, if it has nothing to embrace. Now this affec∣tion in the state of Innocence was happily pitched upon its right Object; it flamed

up in direct fervours of devotion to God, and in collateral emissions of charity to its Neighbour. It was not then only ano∣ther and more cleanly name for Lust. It had none of those impure heats, that both represent and deserve Hell. It was a Ve∣stal and a Virgin-fire, and differed as much from that which usually passes by this name now-a-days, as the vital heat from the burning of a Fever.

Then for the contrary Passion of Ha∣tred. This we know is the Passion of de∣fiance, and there is a kind of aversation and hostility included in its very essence and being. But then (if there could have been hatred in the world, when there was scarce any thing odious) it would have acted within the compass of its proper object. Like Aloes, bitter indeed, but wholsome. There would have been no rancour, no hatred of our Brother: An innocent na∣ture could hate nothing that was innocent. In a word, so great is the commutation, that the Soul then hated only that, which now only it loves, i. e. Sin.

And if we may bring Anger under this head, as being according to some, a tran∣sient hatred, or at least very like it: This also, as unruly as now it is, yet then it vented it self by the measures of reason. There was no such thing as the transports of malice, or the violences of revenge: no rendring evil for evil, when evil was truly a non-entity, and no where to be found. Anger then was like the sword of Justice, keen, but innocent and righteous. It did not act like fury, and then call it self zeal. It always espoused God's honour: and never kindled upon any thing but in order to a Sacrifice. It sparkled like the coal upon the Altar, with the fervours of piety, the heats of devotion, the sallies and vibrations of an harmless activity. In the next place, for the lightsome Passion of Ioy. It was not that, which now often usurps this name; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, that only gilds the appre∣hension, and plays upon the surface of the Soul. It was not the meer crackling of

thorns, a sudden blaze of the Spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy, or a pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and a severe thing: the recreation of the Judg∣ment, the Jubilee of Reason. It was the result of a real good sutably applied. It commenced upon the solidities of Truth, and the substance of Fruition. It did not run out in voice, or undecent erupti∣ons, but filled the Soul, as God does the Universe, silently and without noise. It was refreshing, but composed; like the pleasantness of youth tempered with the gravity of age; or the mirth of a festi∣val mannaged with the silence of contem∣plation.

And, on the other side, for Sorrow. Had any loss or disaster made but room for grief, it would have moved according to the severe allowances of Prudence, and the proportions of the provocation. It would not have sallied out into com∣plaint, or loudness, nor spread it self up∣on the face, and writ sad stories upon the

forehead. No wringing of the hands, knocking the breast, or wishing ones self unborn; all which are but the ceremo∣nies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentati∣on of an effeminate grief: which speak not so much the greatness of the misery, as the smallness of the mind. Tears may spoil the eyes, but not wash away the af∣fliction. Sighs may exhaust the man, but not eject the burthen. Sorrow then would have been as silent as Thoughts, as severe as Philosophy. It would have rested in inward senses, tacit dislikes: and the whole scene of it been transacted in sad and silent reflections.

Then again for Hope. Though in∣deed the fullness and affluence of man's enjoyments in the state of Innocence, might seem to leave no place for hope, in respect of any further addition, but only of the prorogation, and future continu∣ance of what already he possessed: Yet doubtless, God who made no faculty but also provided it with a proper object,

upon which it might exercise, and lay out it self, even in its greatest innocence, did then exercise man's hopes with the expe∣ctations of a better Paradise, or a more intimate admission to himself. For it is not imaginable, that Adam could fix up∣on such poor, thin enjoyments, as riches, pleasure, and the gayeties of an animal life. Hope indeed was always the An∣chor of the Soul, yet certainly it was not to catch or fasten upon such mud. And if, as the Apostle says, no man hopes for that which he sees, much less could Adam then hope for such things as he saw through.

And lastly, for the affection of Fear. It was then the instrument of caution, not of anxiety; a guard and not a torment to the breast that had it. It is now indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the Soul: it flies from a shadow, and makes more dangers than it avoids: it weakens the Judg∣ment, and betrays the succours of rea∣son. So hard is it to tremble, and not to erre, and to hit the mark with a shaking

hand. Then it fixed upon him who is only to be feared, God: and yet with a filial fear, which at the same time both fears, and loves. It was awe without a∣mazement, dread without distraction. There was then a beauty even in this very paleness. It was the colour of de∣votion, giving a lustre to reverence, and a gloss to humility.

Thus did the Passions then act with∣out any of their present jarrs, combats, or repugnances; all moving with the beauty of uniformity, and the stilness of composure. Like a well-governed Ar∣my, not for fighting, but for rank and or∣der. I confess the Scripture does not ex∣presly attribute these several endowments to Adam in his first estate. But all that I have said, and much more, may be drawn out of that short Aphorism, God made man upright, Eccl. 7.29. And since the opposite Weaknesses now infest the nature of Man faln, if we will be true to the rule of contraries, we must con∣clude,

That those perfections were the lot of man innocent.

Now from this so exact and regular composure of the faculties, all moving in their due place, each striking in its proper time, there arose, by natural consequence, the crowning perfection of all, A good con∣science. For, as in the Body, when the principal parts, as the Heart and Liver, do their offices, and all the inferiour, smaller vessels act orderly, and duly, there arises a sweet enjoyment upon the whole, which we call Health. So in the Soul, when the supreme faculties of the Will and Understanding move regularly, the inferiour Passions and Affections follow∣ing, there arises a serenity and complacen∣cy upon the whole Soul, infinitely beyond the greatest bodily pleasures, the highest quintessence and Elixir of worldly de∣lights. There is in this case a kind of fra∣grancy, and spiritual perfume upon the Conscience; much like what Isaac spoke of his son's garments, That the scent of them

was like the smell of a field which the Lord had blessed. Such a freshness and flavour is there upon the Soul, when daily watered with the actions of a vertuous life. What∣soever is pure, is also pleasant.

Having thus surveyed the Image of God in the Soul of Man, we are not to omit now those characters of Majesty that God imprinted upon the Body. He drew some traces of his Image upon this also; as much as a spiritual Substance could be pictured upon a corporeal. As for the Sect of the Anthropomorphites, who from hence ascribe to God the figure of a Man, eyes, hands, feet, and the like, they are too ridiculous to deserve a confutation. They would seem to draw this impiety from the letter of the Scripture sometimes speaking of God in this manner. Ab∣surdly; as if the mercy of Scripture-expres∣sions ought to warrant the blasphemy of our Opinions. And not rather shew us, that God condescends to us, only to draw us to himself; and cloathes himself in our

likeness, only to win us to his own. The practice of the Papists is much of the same nature, in their absurd and impious pictu∣ring of God Almighty: but the wonder in them is the less, since the Image of a Deity may be a proper object for that, which is but the Image of a Religion. But to the purpose: Adam was then no less glorious in his Externals; he had a beautifull Body, as well as an immortal Soul. The whole compound was like a well built Temple, stately without, and sa∣cred within. The Elements were at perfect union and agreement in his Body; and their contrary qualities served not for the dissolution of the compound, but the va∣riety of the composure. Galen, who had no more Divinity, than what his Physick taught him, barely upon the consideration of this so exact frame of the Body, chal∣lenges any one upon an hundred years study, to find, how any the least fibre, or most minute particle might be more com∣modiously placed, either for the advan∣tage

of use, or comeliness. His stature e∣rect, and tending upwards to his Centre; his Countenance Majestick and Comely, with the lustre of a native Beauty, that scorned the poor Assistance of Art, or the Attempts of Imitation; his Body of so much quickness and agility, that it did not only contain, but also represent the Soul: for we might well suppose, that where God did deposit so rich a Jewel, he would suta∣bly adorn the Case. It was a fit Work-house for spritely, vivid faculties to exer∣cise and exert themselves in. A fit Taber∣nacle for an immortal Soul, not only to dwell in, but to contemplate upon: where it might see the World without travel; it being a lesser Scheme of the Creation, nature contracted, a little Cosmography or Map of the Universe. Neither was the Body then subject to distempers, to die by piece-meal, and languish under Coughs, Catarrhs, or Consumptions. Adam knew no disease, so long as temperance from the forbidden fruit secured him. Nature

was his Physician: and Innocence, and Abstinence would have kept him health∣full to immortality.

Now the Use of this point might be va∣rious, but at present it shall be only this; To remind us of the irreparable loss that we sustained in our first Parents, to shew us of how fair a portion Adam disinherit∣ed his whole posterity by one single pre∣varication. Take the picture of a man in the greenness and vivacity of his youth, and in the latter date and declensions of his drooping years, and you will scarce know it to belong to the same person: there would be more art to discern, than at first to draw it. The same and grea∣ter is the difference between Man inno∣cent and faln. He is as it were a new kind or species; the plague of sin has e∣ven altered his nature, and eaten into his very essentials. The Image of God is wiped out, the creatures have shook off his yoke, renounced his Soverignty, and re∣volted from his dominion. Distempers

and Diseases have shattered the excellent frame of his body; and by a new dispen∣sation, Immortality is swallowed up of Mor∣tality. The same disaster, and decay al∣so has invaded his spirituals: the passions rebel, every faculty would usurp and rule; and there are so many governours, that there can be no government. The light within us is become darkness; and the Understanding, that should be eyes to the blind faculty of the Will, is blind it self, and so brings all the inconveniences, that attend a blind follower under the conduct of a blind guide. He that would have a clear, ocular demonstration of this, let him reflect upon that numerous litter of strange, sensless, absurd Opinions, that crawl about the world, to the disgrace of Reason, and the unanswerable reproach of a broken Intellect.

The two great perfections, that both adorn, and exercise man's understanding are Philosophy, and Religion: For the first of these; take it even amongst the Profes∣sors

of it, where it most flourished, and we shall find the very first notions of com∣mon sense debauched by them. For there have been such, as have asserted, That there is no such thing in the world as Motion: That Contradictions may be true. There has not been wanting one, that has denied Snow to be white. Such a stupidity or wantonness had seized upon the most raised wits, that it might be doubted, whether the Philo∣sophers, or the Owls, of Athens were the quicker sighted. But then for Religion; What prodigious, monstrous, mishapen births has the Reason of faln man produ∣ced! It is now almost six thousand years, that far the greatest part of the World has had no other Religion but Idolatry. And Idolatry certainly is the first-born of Fol∣ly, the great and leading paradox; nay, the very abridgment and sum total of all absurdities. For is it not strange, that a rational man should worship an Oxe, nay the Image of an Oxe? that he should fawn upon his Dog? bow himself before

a Cat? adore Leeks and Garlick, and shed penitential tears at the smell of a deified Onion? Yet so did the AEgyptians, once the famed masters of all arts and learning. And to go a little further; we have yet a stranger instance in Isa. 44.14. A man hews him down a tree in the wood, and part of it he burns, in the 16. ver. and in the 17. ver. with the residue thereof he ma∣keth a God. With one part he furnishes his Chimney, with the other his Chappel. A strange thing, that the fire must first con∣sume this part, and then burn Incense to that. As if there was more Divinity in one end of the stick, than in the other; or, as if it could be graved and painted om∣nipotent, or the nails and the hammer could give it an Apotheosis. Briefly, so great is the Change, so deplorable the de∣gradation of our nature, that, whereas be∣fore, we bore the Image of God, we now retain onely the Image of Men.

In the last place, we learn from hence the excellency of Christian Religion, in

that it is the great and onely means, that God has sanctified and designed to repair the breaches of Humanity, to set faln man upon his legs again, to clarifie his Reason, to rectifie his Will, and to compose and regulate his affections. The whole busi∣ness of our Redemption is, in short, only to rub over the defaced copy of the Crea∣tion, to re-print God's Image upon the Soul, and (as it were) to set forth Nature in a second, and a fairer edition.

The recovery of which lost Image, as it is God's pleasure to command, and our duty to endeavour, so it is in his power only to effect.

To whom be rendred and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty and dominion, both now and for ever∣more. Amen.