An historical anatomy of Christian melancholy, sympathetically set forth, in a threefold state of the soul. 1 Endued with grace, 2 ensnared in sin, 3 troubled in conscience. With a concluding meditation on the fourth verse of the ninth chapter of Saint John. / By Edmund Gregory, sometimes Bachelour of Arts in Trin. Coll. Oxon.

Of the Soul troubled in Conscience.

WEll, the troubles and terrours before spo∣ken of in the precedent part, in reference to these that follow and are now at hand are but as S. Matthew saies of those troubles that shall go before the day of Judgement, the beginning of sorrowes. I say, the begin∣ning of sorrow, they are like the scattering drops which fall before a shower; and O now the shower it self begins to fall apace, a terrible shower, and most violent storm, such a one as David speaks of in Psal. 11. vers. 6. where he saith, Ʋpon the wicked be shall raine snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest, this shall be their portion to drinke.

For now our minds and bodies being perhaps more properly made fit for that purpose; I say, the rather fitted thereunto; as either by occasion of the leisure and vacancy of the mind, or also by the like concurring occasion of strong melancholly vapours in the body, or other diseased disturbance: Though fin only be the procuring cause, yet these or some of these are usually the present occasions which mainly help it forward; we quickly fall into an exceeding dumpishnesse of mind, and even in a short space our fancy is followed with swarmes of tormenting thoughts, in so extraordinary a manner, that we cannot tell what to doe; they come so thick one upon another, and are impious in so high a degree, that the dismall and hellish terrour thereof doth quite dull and take off our sences. There is, for the most part, no one houre all day long, but that we are haunted

with them, as with so many hideous ghosts, inso∣much that usually do what we can, nothing will put them from our mind, or give us the least ease and respit from this misery.

Intentions still, our mind gets no reliefe At all, from this torm••nting inward griefe.

Those thoughts, they are such black thoughts, most of them so infinitely fearfull▪ so unspeakable heynous, that they do make us extreamly to shake with feare, and put us many times in such a trembling, that we are as it were fainting with the deep agony and an∣guish thereof, they do so subtilly shoot into our ima∣gination, that for our lives we cannot with all our strength and endeavour shut them out, or so much as mitigate the violence of them; they are even as the piercing lightning, which cannot be withstood. For, least your understanding should be mistaken. it is to be noted, that those thoughts not as yet spoken of. are more of a darting, then a reflecting nature. To go on, they are as so many terrifying Haggards and hellish ghosts unto us, that do even make us shrinke for feare, as often as we do but think upon them, or so much as take the least glimpse thereof in∣to our apprehension; and then as soon as we are thus never so little afraid, they will sure come upon us, and that the more fiercely too, fear giving any adver∣sary advantage, to have the greater power over us: The manner of being affrighted herewith, many times is as when some extraordinary thunderclap on the sudden, strikes a man with so violent a terrour, that his heart is even (as they say) out of his mouth therewith; the passion whereof is able to be in such an excesse, that it doth even stun our sences for the time, making us as quite sick with the amazement of it.

What shall I say? No mortall tongue can ••hew Those fearfull terrors which our mind doth know.

It is said indeed in the sixth Chap. of Genesis, that every imagination of the thoughts of mans heart are onely evill continually. But O these and the like thoughts, as I may say, even sent from Hell into the soul of man, are so beyond measure unreasonably evill, that we shall many times think to our selves, think it, I say, to be a thing almost impossible, that man, as a meer man, and being only in the mortall condition of hu∣manity, should be capable of entertaining such in∣tollerable things within him: As also sometimes we shall think thus, that if other men did but know what vile imaginations, what monstrous indigni∣ties there are in our heads, they would sure be ready to kill us out of zeale to piety, and revenge to Gods glory, as not fit to live on earth, who are in truth full of nothing but Hell: Many times perhaps are our thoughts of such high and immediate impiety▪ that we verily look for one fearfull judgement or other presently to confound us, and do even quake and crouch down, as though some fierce thunderbolt of vengeance were already falling from Heaven upon us: These thoughts they are not all of them evill in the same degree, some it may be being far worse then some; as also, they are not all of the same nature, for the diverfity of every ones constitution, and the diversity or severall kinds of sins, to which we are most addicted, do perchance much varie the nature of them; yet most of them in the same particular party (specially at the first) do ever point to one kind of end and effect; in a while the much prevai∣ling strength of these thoughts hath such a terrifying power in us, that even but one of them is sufficient to strike an heart-breaking passion of so great a trem∣bling and distemper into us, that we shall not be wholly out of it again for a whole day after, being usually in the mean space revolving in our minds

the heynousnesse thereof or bu••ying our fancy with orher trifling conceipts of the like nature; so that our mind is never no never free from some one co∣gitation or other, which concerns this our trouble: At our first entr•• into this sad case, before we are ful∣ly possest with the course and quality thereof; we shall be apt thus to consider and revolve within our selves. O Lord, how shall we do to recogitate and examine over againe in repentance these unhappy thoughts, when as the very remotest glimpse of them in our fancy, is so too much terrible unto us; for we do feel our selves seldome lively and perfectly to repent us of our sins, but that in very act of repen∣tance, those things which do most go against our con∣science do re-appear unto us afresh, and that we do as it were really see the enormity of them: I say we shall thus perhaps ho and be solicitous how to re∣pent, for though we may and do now repent, in the habit and intention of repentance, I mean in the reality and sense of it; yet peradventure we cannot in a right and duly performed act thereof, habitually by turning f••om our evill course, but not actually, by putting in practice that lively action of the mind, which is ordinarily requisite and belonging there∣unto. I say, for all that our hearts be as it were broken in pieces with these heavy troubles, yet we cannot enjoy so feeling a remorse in our souls, or so kindly dissolve our selves into a serious and right humiliation as we desire, and as wee ought to do; though as it seemeth to our poor unhap∣py souls.

The Lord hath charg'd us with so great a Curse, That mortall flesb cannot sustaine a worse.

Though I sa•• we are so Divell-like, and hellishly untoward in our selves, and though we truly know and do well consider this our wofull condition, yet

can we not perchance thorough this great distemper of fancy; can we not, as I say, performe that acti∣on of mind which fitly belongs thereunto, being held in such a strong incongruity unto the naturall use of all inward duties that there yet appeareth in us, me thinks, no due readinesse of heart to a bleeding and truly conscientious sorrow.

Now therefore in this most evill case, least that we should go down quick into Hell, and be swal∣lowed up with this sudden destruction, we do migh∣tily labour to set out all the power and strength that we have, in striving to deject and bring down our outward souls to a duer and more applyable sorrow for our sins: For you must understand that the strong∣nesse and violence hereof, a pretty while, upon its first comming, doth amaze and so much take up our thoughts with disturbed terrour and admiration, that we cannot presently apply our selves with good, and exactly go over each particular of repentance to the full. Now then, as much as it is possible, I say, to the utmost, do we set our selves this way, to turn a new leafe, to change the whole frame and course of our inner man: For lo▪ O Lord, there is no rest unto our souls, by reason of this thy wrath, neither is there yet any ease at all to our consciences, by rea∣son of our sins. First then to begin, The former po∣licy, delight and habit of our mind, which we did heretofore seriously embrace, applaud and approve, is now become hatefull and odious unto us, we can∣not abide so much as the very thought thereof; and lo, the whole aime of our intention and purpose is only set to a particular and punctuall re-counting of all our sins past, although the heynous••esse and mul∣titude of them, for want of due repentance so long, is perchance grown to that passe, that it is most irk∣som to us, our hearts even faint thereat, and are very

loath, even as loath to meddle thoroughly with this scrutiny, and to search it to the purpose, as the grle∣ved party is loath to open the playster from his tender soare, the clinging whereof he knows will tear away the very skin from the flesh.

So hard a thing it is for to divorse Sin, that is ro••ted with a constant course.

So difficult is the due ordering, purging and exa∣mining of a conscience that is much overgrown with sin; we do now, as I say, set our selves to a par∣ticular re-capitulation of all our sins that so we may fully trie out, and remove the cause of this our mis••∣ry, and therefore, as it were, stopping our ears and apprehension, as much as possible, from the noise and disturbance of all other things; we do altogether dive our thoughts into a most deep and distinct conside∣ration and remembrance of all our former iniquities, wherupon there may, and doubtlesse will, at one time or other, occurre unto our memory all, even all, I say, and almost every one of the greatest sins of our whole life, with their particular circumstances, and manner of committing. Thus here

Deep Melancholly, without noise presents Of each our sins the sad and true contents; And then she sits with that accusing scroll. To passe her judgement on the guilty soul.

Judging, deeming, and concluding, somtimes one to be the greatest of the sins, somtimes another; some∣times this to be the chiefest cause of our misery, some∣times that; somtimes neither this nor that in particu∣lar, but in generall, the sinfull courses of our whole time; but all this while, ever now and then, shall we be thinking with our selves, sure our case is so dan∣gerous, that never any souls were in the like sad con∣dition; sure our case is so incurably bad, we cannot conceive how it is possible for us to come into Gods favour any more.

Our wound of Conscience is se deep, 'tis sure, So deep, me thinks, that it is past all cure.

Thus we hang in suspense betwixt hope and feare, least that it be not possible for us to be saved, and then snall we be very earnest and diligent to search out af∣ter such books (if we can read) which handle mat∣ter of conscience, and to peruse them, as perchance Master Greenbam, Master Perkins, Master Bolton, and the like, to see whether we can find any likelihood that ever any have been in the like wretched state be∣fore us, or affected with such trouble and distraction in the same nature; and when perchance we do finde but little or nothing, whereby to conjecture that others formerly have been in such a case; then veri∣ly, me thinks, there is no hopes for us, no body was ever in such a desperate danger, and therfore we must needs be damned: But if peradventure we read or hear of any that have been somwhat neer alike affe∣cted as we are, whose inward trouble doth resemble the manner and fashion of ours, it doth revive us with a little comfort and satisfaction: That only doth give us most ease of any thing: That, and no∣thing but that, doth afford some refreshing to our weary and distressed souls: Well, having, as I say before, brought up our sins out of the abisse of long oblivion; and as Enders Witch did Samuels person or personated Ghost: So having raised up the true re∣presentation of these ugly ghosts, to our sad remem∣brance, we labour by grieving and sighing; for per∣haps we can hardly weep at first, though we doe much force our selves to it. I say, by sighing, by fast∣ing, and prayer, to bring our mis-happen and unto∣wardly distempered souls, to apply and conforme to some lively penance and sensible remorse for our wretchednesse; we do now suffer no difficulty to withdraw us from this necessary work of dejection,

but do keep our selves at Schoole to it by force, for though we do grieve and sorrow not a little for our sins, yet still being in this case as we are, it seemeth to us not enough, it pierceth not to the depth of our offences, we must yet do penance in further humi∣liation; this then compulsive and violent urging our selves to sorrow for sin, together with the troubled thoughts of our mind and conscience, in a while breeds in us perchance a constant custome and habit of sighing, so that we shall often, ever and anon, in∣terrupt our breath with sighs; when we are altoge∣ther so untoward and out of all order in our minds, that we can do nothing else, nor pray, nor read, nor consider, nor meditate as we should; then shall we force our selves to sigh; this we can do, and this perchance is all that we can do; and this, with the continued use thereof, doth at length so spend our spirits, and dry up the naturall moysture of our bo∣dies, that it maketh our countenances, for the most part, look with a very pale and sorrowfull dejection, according to what Salomon saith, a merry heart maketh a theerfull countenance, so our sorry heart maketh us a sad countenance, our beauty is quite gone, for very trouble, and worne away because of all our iniqui∣ties; and though for all we are thus unreasonably tortured with these close fretting troubles, and such continuall anguish of mind, yet a good while upon the first beginning of our trouble, it is the nature of us all, to strive howsoever to keep it as much as may be, very secret and private unto our selves, for that we are ashamed, and loath that any should be acquaint∣ed with what an unhappy case we are in; but we shall usually with the grief thereof, go about so soli∣citarily, so moopish, and look so ill, and perchance starvingl•• too, as if we were drunken or distracted, that our friends cannot but observe the unwonted state and behaviour of us.

Each one may read the story of our case. In the sad tokens of a silent face.

Such earnest trouble and intention of Hannab's mind, made old Ely take notice of her, as if she had been drunken; who answereth, No, my Lord, I am a woman of a sorrowfull spirit; And though perchance for a while we shall be loath to give such an answer, and tell the truth to our friends, or others, who are ready to demand what the matter is with us? why we look, or sigh so? what doth a••le us? and the like; yet in time this grief is so intolerable, that it must needs have its vent, for strangulat inclusus dolor, any grief by its keeping close, doth rage the worse: Gods heavy hand is so strong upon us, there is no conceal∣ing of it long; the weary and restlesse condition we are in, makes us in the end not to care who knows it, or to whom it be told, so that we might but find any help or ease thereof; for perhaps we are so exceeding∣ly tired out with this trouble, that there is not so much as the least rest or intermission at all unto our minds, neither day nor night, whilst we awake we think out, whilst we sleep we dream out, and we are interrupted with tumblings and tossings even all the night long; the mind never ceaseth from its trou∣ble; when we are in company, let there be what bu∣sinesse or discourse soever in hand, we are amo••ost them, as those that are quite stunned and amazed in our sences, no otherwise affected then if we did nei∣ther see nor hear them, our mind being alwaies wor∣king and musing upon its inward grief; and when we are private by our selves, either what through the agony of evill and tormenting thoughts. and what with plodding on the heynousnesse of our sins and generall course of our life, or by being terrified and dismayed with certain difficult Texts and passages of Scripture, our mind and conscience is in a constant agitation, at no rest.

Lo there's a fin, that to the heart doth wound; And here's a thought, that strikes us to the ground With s••••ouning fear; And then a Text again Buries that soul, which those before bad sluin.

I say, when we are in private, and so forth, for our desolate and sorsaken soul delighteth, as David did in the 102. Psalm, to sit alone by her self like an Owl that is in the desert, or like a Sparrow upon the house top; thus being alone toyled in misery, and snarld in perplexity, that we cannot tell what to do, we shall kneel down in our chamber, or elswhere, and by ur∣ging our selves to tears, in a while gush out a bun∣dantly in our prayers, for though it be difficult for a full grown and middle age to dissolve their grief into tears, yet in such cases as this it is usuall, and then most of us, when once we do thus bring our selves into an use and custome of weeping, we do seldome pray at any time without tears, desiring to weep often: and often in private, when we cannot pray as we would, for how many and how many times is it, that we do pray, God knows, with poor relish and devo∣tion of mind, forcing our selves to pray when we cannot pray, repeating the words, when we are in such a case, and so out of order in our selves, that we have no heart or affection of Prayer? I say, no heart for obserne hinc illae lachrimae, it is the deadnesse and want of a heart, that is our greatest unhappinesse in all our distresses, and therefore good David so earnest∣ly cries out for an heart, Create in me a clean h••a••t O God, O turne my stony heart into an heart ef flesh, &c. To go on, There is most times suck an untowardlinesse in our hearts and affections unto prayer, that our dis∣tempered thoughts by meanes thereof, are ready to turn every thing to a quite contrary sense, to a vaine, perchance, or ill conceipt, so that when we should be most reverently serious in our devotion, then do the

twharting glonces of our Phansie make as it were a foolery of it; and this will make us exceedingly to sigh, and cry for discontent, that we should be so vaine, untoward, and out of all order; thinking, Lord, what shall we doe, we cannot help it, though we be thus never so untoward we cannot tell how to avoid it; and these words perchance, we cannot tell what to doe; Lord, we cannot tell what to doe in our grea∣test plunges of distresse will be an usuall expression with us.

Lord, heare our groanes, we wot not what to say, We pray, and yet alas we cannot pray.

Of our selves we are not able sufficiently to think or comprehend in how bad a condition we are, thou only that truly knowest our misery be mercifull unto us according to thy great mercy.

When we are solitary and melancholy, private musing upon our selves and our miserable condition, there doe often such quames of terrour come over our minds and consciences, with such fainty fits of despaire, that we are even as heart fick for the time with them; the cogitation of divers things reflecting upon our consciences maketh our drooping spirits many a time even ready to forsake the body, and give it its last farewell; sometimes that Text of the He∣brewes, which saith, that those who after they have tasted of the heavenly gift, and the power of the world to come, if they fall away it is impossible to renew them to repentance. This word impossible is a hard saying, and doth wonderfully dismay us. Sometimes that unpardona∣ble Sinne against the Holy Ghost, which shall never be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come, doth strike us even as dead without hope of recovery; for let that sinne be what it will be, either this or that, as perhaps we have read and learnt out divers opinions of it what it is; sure we thinke

the greathesse and heynousnesse of our sinnes must needs without question comprehend it; nay, if it be a sin of such and such a nature as some are of the opinion it is, there is not the least doubt to be made but that we have evidently and often committed it. Sometimes that place of doing despight to the spirit of grace doth speak hard unto our consciences, and somtimes that where it is said of Esau that he found no place for repentance, though he sought it with tears. Sometimes the darting thoughts which doe so vehe∣mently terrifie and distemper our minds, maketh us tremble to think on that place in the Apocalyps, where the damned ou•• of their rebellious nature are said to curse and blaspheme, &c Sometimes shall we think on Caines sinne, that it was no other then those sinnes were our selves have committed, even perchance in the fame kind of malitious and murdering thoughts against our Neighbours; besides so many and so great sinnes of other natures, for the which we are more worthy to be damned then he. Sometimes the grievous punishment of the murmuring Israe∣lites, who were angry with God out of impatience, doth passe sentence upon us of the like Judgement and Condemnation. Sometimes againe, the appli∣cation of Sauls case will disquiet us, the applica∣tion of the house built upon the sand, the applica∣tion of him whose last estate was worse then the first, who being delivered from one Devill, there entred seven worser ones afterwards into him. Sometimes we stick with great feare on Predesti∣nation, being not a little touched with the utter im∣probability of our being fore-ordained unto Salva∣tion, who are altogether so wicked and untoward, that God may as well, and with as good reason, to our judgement, save the Devill himselfe as we; whatsoever we heare spoken either in Scripture: or

else how to the Condemnation of the wicked, doth as justlv and fitly me thinkes come to our Conscien∣ces as if it had been framed on purpose for us: as also, whatsoever is said to the commendation of the righteous, doth sound againe even as punctually to our particular shame, and confasion of face. The saying of St. Peter to Simon the Sorcerer, doth most rightly me thinkes fit us being thus truly in the gall of bitternesse, and in the bonds of iniquity; so hampered and snared in our sins and terrour of Conscience, that by no meanes can we get out of these feares and di∣stractions.

What ere we doe, doubts doe thereof arise, What now we like, anon we doe despise.

As for example; If we doe give liberally to the poore, intending to take Daniels counsell in his fourth Chapter, that is, To breake off our iniquities by shewing mercy, and so forth; then sure it comes into our mind that our actions are but Pharisaicall; or that we do•• it without charity, without which, though we should give away all our goods, it will as St. Paul saith, profit us nothing; if we doe not give liberally when as our ability can doe it, then are we just as churlish Naball, or as wicked Dives. Againe, if we doe let in the consideration of our sins and miserable estate, so nearely and deeply into our apprehension that we cannot endure it, then sure we are like Caine, ready to cry out, that our raisery is greater then that we are able to beare: If on the other side, we endeavour to forget it, and put it from our minde, then doe we seeme like Saul, to drive away the evill spirit with Davids Musick: If we doe keepe on our going to Church, and the like outward duties when as we seele no good motions within us correspondent thereunto, but rather all untowardnesse, then we are as Hypocrites, that make people to be mistaken in

us, in accounting and deeming us to be better the•• we be, to be something when as we are nothing: If we doe wholly omit and neglect those duties, as not to goe to Church, and the like; then are we prophane Atheists, and not fit to live amongst Christians; such is the unconstant weaknesse and unquietnesse of our soules, that thus as Iob, in the seventh Chapter, the fourth verse, When we lye downe we say, when shall we arise, and the night be gone; and we are full of tos∣sings to and fro untill the dawning of the day; and with David, in the 38. Psalm, we may most truly say, that there is no soundnesse in our flesh by reason of thy wrath, neither is there any rest unto our bones by reason of our sin, for our iniquities are gone over our beads, and are a sore bur∣then, too beavy for us to bear: a heavy burthen, too heavy as well for our enfeebled bodies as distempered souls.

The Soul and Body like two Turtle Doves Doe both in one affe••tion syrapathize, What moves the one the other quickly moves, Each in the others love both lives and dyes.

As the Soule, so I say the body sustaineth an heavy portion of this spirituall misery, for we doe here with in time usually grow so weak, even truly, as they say, so weak as water, being what with griefe and absti∣nence from ordinary food wasted and pined away to nothing but skin and bone; neither have our bones also any rest in them, for they are ready to ake as we but lye in our Beds, and are exceedingly dryed up like a Potsheard; such is the feeble wearinesse and laxation of our limbs, that kneeling any whit long at Prayer, when we rise we shall be ready to f••ll back∣wards, so that as David in the 22. Psalme, just so we are even powred out like water, and all our bones are out of joyne; if we sit a while more then ordinary, such a benummed stiffenesse and deadnesse doth seize upon us, that we shall hardly perhaps be able without help

to stand upright. Againe, thus are we grown old. I say, old with griefe, and are become as it is said, Like a dead man that is forgotten. The continuall sighing and anguish of minde seemes to presse and oppresse our flomackes, as if some heavy weight did lye hard up∣on it; thy hand O Lord presseth us so sore, that it is uneasie for us to fetch our breath; and lo, it may be we are wholly for many daies together as in a constant feavour of distemper. I have known the water of such a distressed soul, only through this intollerable trouble of mind and Conscience, to look so ill that a wise and well experienced Pyhsitian hath given his opinion of it, that he never saw so bad and disturbed an estate in all his life before. O the sad case! O the sorry and miserable condition of man, that is thus wounded with the sting of conscience for his sin! Behold how David complaines and laments in his 39. Psalm, O take away thy plague from me, for I am even cansumed by meanes of thy heavy band: When thou with rebuke dost chasten man for sinne, thou makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were a moath fretting a garment, every man therefore is but vanity. O man, unhappy man, who can sufficiently bemoane thee? What heart is there can chuse but smart to see this thy misery, and here to shew the griese that I now conceive?

Ob that my tongue could speake forth teares of blood, And eyes run down with waters like a floud.

But to go on, for we may not stay here; I say, to go on with the Story of our darting and affrighting thoughts, when any grievous and terrour-striking flash doth dart into our minds, we are presently apt thereupon to ponder and examine with our selves, whether it be worse and of greater impiety, then those that we have formerly had, and for the most part, ever the last doth seem to be the worst; som∣times it may be we may thus think with our selves,

why? what be they but bare thoughts? they be not wishes, desires, or reall actions of the mind; And then perchance the next time these thoughts do come unto us in manner of wishes, which for the present, through the sudden passion of feare, doth confound us with such an amazement, that we cannot at all tell what to think or do, we are so quite out of heart with those and our other dismayments, for any hope of salvation, that me thinks it is but a folly to per∣swade our selves of comfort: Well, when the thoad•• of this overwhelming tempest is somwhat allayed and past over; we shall perhaps begin to consider again (being loath to be drowned) that grant they be wishes, or be they what they will be, never so bad, yet we cannot help it, it is not in our power to dis∣pose of our own thoughts though they do come thus unhappily unto us; we desire them not, we had rather be rid of them; and then, vvhen vve have so far pret∣ty vvell resolved our selves for the time, rather then our melancholly fancy shall be at any rest or inter∣mission from tormenting doubts and terrors, our half bewitcht imagination; our imagination, I may vvell say, as half bewitcht, vvill also send for them, and bring them into mind, and then there is not the least shevv of hope any more to be caught hold by, then vve are quite strucken down into Hell, vvith an utter confusion of despaire; vve have hi∣therto strived against might, and all in vain too but deceive our selves with hope; without question such is our perswasion and conceit) we must needs be damned if ever any were damned; we are now shut under Hatches, past hope of recovery utterly forsa∣ken and cast off from Grace; and sure we now count it an advantage, and ••he onely height of our hope, if we might but be in a lesser degree of Con∣demnation, we doe take it as a benefit to us, not to

be placed in the extreamest condition of Hell; this, this is but a poore hope, a cold comfort God knows, and yet even this so poore a hope can we hardly grant our selves. O now shall we think how happy is that soule, that is but in probability of salvation; Oh, it is not preferment, credit, rich apparell, or outward pleasures, the common joyes and felicities of this world, that stand high in our esteem, we can now value these earthly things truly as they are, even as nothing; we envy not the happinesse of those that have them, nor are we discontent to be without them▪ give us, O Lord give us this one thing, The comfort of thy grace again, The hope of salvation, and we looke for no more; hither, hither are our desires, our cares, our thoughts only bent, here is the only treasure we aime at.

There's no content without it to be had, There's nothing with it that can make us sad.

Two things are here well to be observed by the way; First, that the meerly reasoning and reflect∣ing thoughts of Conscience doe never cause such sharp fits of dispaire in the soule of man, as those which are also partly darting and affrighting: the second is, That dispaire in the understanding is no∣thing so great an impiety against God as is dispaire in the Will, with an impatient resolution, a dispai∣ring motion or opinion, as a desperate sin.

To return again to the disconsolate amazement of our souls, labouring in dispaire; this poore hope as I say of being in a lesser degree of Condemnation we cannot grant unto our selves, for we shall reason chiefly thus; If God be most just as he must needs be, he cannot but distribute equall right and Justice unto all men, and so he may not spare any one per∣son more then other, for any favour or respect what∣soever, but only for their good behaviour, and as

they have better husbanded their time and his gifts in them, for will the righteous God of all the world judge partially? No verily, he is truth it selfe, farre be it from the Lord, as it is in the 34. of Iob, and the 10: verse, that he shou••d doe wickednesse, and from the Al∣mighty that he should commit iniqutty, for the worke of a man shall he render unto him, and cause every man to finde according to his wayes; and though there be mercy to be found in Christ for the greatest sinners, yet are we notwithstanding me thinks to make account that God certainly requires our good behaviour in amendment of life, according to that of Saint Paul, in the second to the Corinthians, the 5. Chapter, If any man be in Christ he is a new creature. As the Father is Truth, so is the Son, and if we meane to be the bet∣ter for him, and come thorough him as the way into Heaven, we must follow him as he is the way, and the truth, in newnesse of life; and therefore how can we, who be thus in the greatest state of sinne, as we conceive our selves to be both in the former passage of our life, as also especially now for these present thoughts, and tormenting impieties of minde, but needs expect and look for the greatest Condemnation of all men: so true is that Heathen, but wise speech, Se judice nemo nocens absolvitur.

There is no advocate can plead our cause, When Conscience once doth prosecute the Lawes.

For nay, yet further, me thinkes we doe so much hate what we are, and applaud Truth and Justice, that unlesse we might be free from sinne, from this wretched and hellish condition of minde, though God himselfe should now call us into Heaven, we would surely stand without; we could not, nor would not come in, unlesse he would shew the like mercy upon all; unlesse all other men were bid∣d••n come in too, whom we are of opinion to be farre more fit for it then our selves.

Well, this thought and conceit as it hath some reason in it, in that we cannot deject our selves as low as our sins deserve; we knovv so much of our selves that vve cannot but think all others better then our selves, vvho are so exceedingly bad in our selves. I say againe, as it hath reason in it, duely considering the unhappy state of sin; and this transcendent un∣happinesse of the minde, vvhich is novv so full of the Hell of tormenting distempers and dispaire, that we cannot thinke our selves possibly capable of that most holy place, and glorious condition, vvhich is only fit for the purity of Saints and Angels: yet is there no question a kind of close stubbornnesse usually joyned vvith it, even in this our lovvest dejection; thus I say, there may be though vve doe not all per∣ceive it, too much stomack in us: too much sto∣mack; as much as to say, Since that God hath not delivered us from these sinnes and vvretched unto∣vvardnesses, vve are therefore as it vvere carelesse to be delivered from the punishment; as if a Father for some discontent should shut his Child out of doores for an houre or tvvo, though perchance the Father aftervvards vvould let him come in, yet forsooth he vvill not, but in a mogging humour lyes abroad all night. So verily in this aforesaid passage and con∣clusion of minde, as I conceive it, is not much unlike vvith us: as if God had fcarce dealt vvell enough vvith us, to let us fall into these snares of sin and distraction: therefore novv peradventure in this case vve doe not much care for mercy; our Melan∣cholly forsaken soule, as David in the 77. Psalm, re∣fuseth comfort, and as Iacob at the supposed nevves of ••osephs death, in the 37. of Genesis, vvould not take comfort of his friend; so now either we cannot, or will not take comfort from others; it is hard to tell ••ruely vvhich is the cause for sin▪

These motions have so deep a secresie, The truth thereof there's none can well discry.

As I say, let the cause be vvhat it vvill be, either reall or imaginary, or deluding (for note this, that the excesse of Melancholly in many of us is altoge∣ther a strong distempered delusion of phansie) how∣ever, sure enough it is to our seeming that vve are not able to receive it, because vvhatsoever is said to us by any of our friends or others in the vvay of com∣forting us, novv in this our extream distresse of mind: for the most part it is all in vaine and to no purpose; as touching the sins vvhich lye upon our consciences like mountaines of Lead, too heavy for us to beare. If it be urged and applyed that St. Peter forsvvare Christ his deare Lord and Master, after that he had a long time received so many gracious courtesies from him, after that he had been an anci∣ent Apostle, full of heavenly vvisedom and under∣standing; that David committed both Murder and Adultery in his elder age, after he had familiarly vvalked vvith God many yeares together, and yet both these so great offenders vvere easily forgiven. Againe, that our Saviour Christ came into this World for nothing else, dyed for no other purpose but only to save sinners; and that he delighted in mercy whilst he vvas here amongst us, rejo••cing to doe his Fathers vvork, that great vvork of mercy; as appeareth by his generall Proclamation, Come unto me all yee that are weary and heavy laden, &c. and as it eminently appeareth by his manner of conversation upon earth, by being usually amongst, and fami∣liar with Publicans and sinners, by his favourable and kind speech, and behaviour to that Woman ta∣ken in Adultery, to Mary Magdalen, and the like. Nay ••et once further, if it be urged and pressed unto our Consciences that the mighty Jehovah, even the

Lord God himselfe in his ovvne vvords hath spoken by the Prophet Ezekiel, As I live, saith the Lord God, I desire not the death of the wicked. And againe most Pathe••t∣cally by the Prophet Isaiah, Though your sins were as crimson they shall be made as white as snow, though they were red like scarle••, they shall be as wooll. If you vvill, I say if you vvill at last but endeavour to be reclaimed, if the consent, &c. as it follovves in the next verse; intimating that it is not the greatnesse of our sins that can seperate his mercy from us, if there be any desire or inclination to good, be it never so little, even as nothing; for he will not quench the smoking flax, nor breake che bruised reed. Alas, it must needs be a very little fire that doth but make the flax to smoak, when as it is so combustable a thing that the least sparke is able to set it in a flame. Alas, the brickle reed being bruised and crusht into shivers it is a very little hold-fast that it hath, it is as good as quite broken off, and yet he will not breake it off, it shall grow together againe, become firme and usefull▪ Such is the exceeding mercy of the Lord to poor sin∣ners, even beyond all humane likelihood and ca∣pacity.

When man doth see no hope, or life at all, Our God can then revive us with a call.

And yet loe, all these comfortable perswasions can doe no good, all this is but Surd•• cavere. to sing as it were to a dead man; this, nor nothing of this fits our Disease, it comes not aneer me thinks unto our case, it agrees not with our malady, though Christ came into the world to save sinners, and though the Lord hath given most large and mercifull promises in the Scripture for the comfort of sinners, yet this is no∣thing to us, this concernes not such sinners as we; such grievous, such constant, such highly rebellious sinners; if others have sinned grievously and yet

are saved, certaine there was a farre greater reason for it in their other towardlinesse to good, or the like, then that we can find in our selves. Mark it, it is this our present untowardnesse that alwaies puts us into the greatest plunges of despaire, and thus our thoughts stand fully possest with nothing else but that we are remedilesse wretches, desperate miscre∣ants, and utterly forsaken of God. And no marvaile, that thorough this sad unhappinesse of mind that we, we miserable, wretched, and sinfull souls are thus forsaken, when as our blessed Saviour himself in that his great agony of trouble, and distresse of minde on the Crosse cryed out, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? No marvaile, I say, that we who are the greatest of sinners should be forsaken, and left alone to sinke into unmercifull despaire; when as he that was no sinner at all, even one with God himselfe, with the imputative burden of our sins, Cryed out, as if he had been left destitute, and even ready to yeeld under them; My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? But to goe on, O the strength of Me∣lancholly, or rather indeed the strength of sin, and a convicted Conscience! In Melancholly natures there are no Arguments and Reasons of the most skilfull Divines that can ease our hearts, or refresh our souls in this extreamity of trouble, perhaps mo∣derate Physick, convenient employment, and the constant company, direction, and guidance of some wise understanding party may be necessary outward helps for us; but verily the best inner comfort that at any time we doe gather, though usually it be but little, is as I have formerly said by those that are, or have been afflicted with troubles and disturbance of mind, somewhat alike us in the same kind, either by a full understanding of the event, passages, and condition of their trouble, or else by conference

with them if it may be, and communicating our estates and maladies together.

Take't for a rule, that that Physician still In all Diseases fits the Patient best, Whose owne experience doth improve his skill, And it confirmes with a probatum est.

The experience, I say, of others misery is the best satisfaction we can find in our own; and truly we do not meet with a better or more generally soveraign salve, in the comparing of all our judgments & expe∣riences together, then in the midst of all our grievous tortures and distresse of mind, to strive wholly to rest our selves as quiet, as contented, and as patient as we may, and to tarry the Lords leasure. Our souls, our bodies, and all are in thine hands, O God, deale with us as it shall seeme good in thine eyes; if thou hast ordained and prepared us for Heaven, bles∣sed be thy Name; if thou hast given us over, and that we are like Tares bound up and fitted for Hell, blessed also be thy Name; it is doubtlesse for thy glory, and it is but our just desert; come life, come death, come Heaven, come He••l, the Will of the Lord be done; we are not able to sustaine the care of our selves, all the strength of our poor souls and bo∣dies is not sufficient to take a full charge, or under∣goe care enough to preserve the least creature in the world, much lesse of so noble a creature as is the soul of man: Since therefore we are not sufficient for these things, we must doe the best we may, and cast the rest of our care upon God; humbly resigning over our selves unto him, that so he may beare that care for us, which our weak and narrow ••ouls cannot beare for themselves. Sure we doe not a little offend God, I am verily of the mind, in being over much dis∣contented, and impatiently grieved, as many times we are in our selves; ••ot though in the bitternesse of

our misery being perswaded to be content, and to be resolved with more quietnesse of mind, we shall usually, not without reason, plead for our grieving and taking on so deeply. O Lord, how can we be quiet and at rest, to sustaine such a Hell in our breasts? Can we carry fiery coals in our bosome and not be burnt therewith? Can our soul be rackt with such tormenting anguish of impious thoughts, and despairing terrours, and yet not weep, sigh, and abun∣dantly complaine thereof? Doth not Hezekiah in the 38. of Esay, Chatter like a Crow, and a Swallow, and mourn like a Dove, for the feare of cutting off of a few mo∣mentary daies, and can we be sufficiently impatient with griefe, to be cut off from the Land of the li∣ving, even all hope of Heaven for ever? Shall Rachell mourne for the losse of her Children so that she will not be comforted, and can we weep and cry out enough for the losse of our souls unto all Eternity? Nay, can we endure but so much as to conceive the Devill haling, ••erking, and tormenting any of our deare friends, either living or departed this life; I say, to see their distracted looks, to heare their la∣mentable and intolerable cryes, and not to have our bowels melt within us; and we can endure to see our selves turned out from the face of God for ever, to burne and fry most deservedly with everlasting paines in Hell fire. O let us alone at the thoughts of these things, to poure out our selves into Oceans of tears, and to roare, even roare aloud forthe very dis∣quietnesse of our hearts. I say,

O let us houle; cry out, and make a moane Able to break the very hearts of stone.

So just cause have we in this case, me thinks, to forrow without measure, nay more, if it were possible, then to the very death: Is there any cause of sorrow like this cause? Weep not for me, that labour may

be spared to weep for other things: but weep for our selves, there is cause enough; that is truly to be wept for, and nothing else but that for our souls un∣happinesse: And yet were it nothing else but our own eternall punishment and damnation that were to be lamented, though that were too too much, yet we could in some better sort bear it; but this alas, who can bear this? how can we indure these impious rebellions of mind, which are not onely Gods pu∣nishments for sin, but also a most highly sinfull un∣towardnesse it self. Since then it is as it is, how can we chuse but vehemently take on and complaine in the anguish of our spirits? perchance it may be re∣plyed again unto us, that sure these rebellious unto∣ward thoughts which we so complain of, can be no sins which are thus displeasing, thus tedious, thus full of trouble unto us. How can that act of the under∣standing be accounted ours, which we do not enjoy and truly consent unto? But grant whatsoever may be supposed, grant they be our own, grant they may justly be laid to our charge, and that the Divell in this case doth plough as it were with our Heifer; and that we are partners with him therein; yet certainly, both in regard of the despairing condition of our souls, or these Hell-invented thoughts, doubtlesse as I say, we are not a little offended in an over discon∣tented vexing our selves, for patience in any misery is the most pleasing and acceptable sacrifice unto God that can be, it is even a tended on with some blessing in the end: As we may not sencelesly sleight this judgement, so we must endeavour patiently to bear it; O Lord, thou hast written most bitter things against us, thou pursuest us with intolerable judge∣ments; and yet we must not cease in labouring to of∣fer up Iobs patient resolution, Although he should kill us, (even with a thousand deaths) yet will we trust in him; O Lord give me leave to speak it.

Thou ••halt not shake us off so, here wee'l lye Before thee prostrate, if we dye we dye.

It is the Lords judgement, that we may be sure of, we are his creatures, and the work of his own hands, let him therefore do with us what shall seem good in his eyes; let this misery be never so bad, come never so unhappily unto us, this is our wisdome, we cannot do better then to keep our selves calme from pretur∣bations, as much as may be; and as the King of Israel gave order to his servants to give no answer to rayl∣ing Rabshekah, neither good nor bad, so let our affe∣ctions, if it be possible, give no answer at all, but suffer the thoughts, terrours, and dismayednesse of our minds, silently and quietly to passe away againe unregarded as they came; for these thundering storms and tempests of inward troubles, when they fall down right upon us, in such a forcelesse manner, like a violent stream usually carries down all before it, it will by no means be stopt or contraried, untill it please God thorough our own poore prayers, and the assisting prayers of our friends, by little and lit∣tle to send it away from us as it came: For this, I say this, take notice of it, this is alwaies between whiles our maine stay and comfort, that there may possibly be some hope of deliverance, at least, from those bit∣ter troubles, in that we strive to pray continually with such weak prayers, as we can and do earnestly and often desire other our friends to pray for us. O Lord, though we dare not for feare, nor cannot for weaknesse come unto thee our selves, being brought so low and feeble with this Palsie of the soul, this heart-shaking and trembling disease, yet like the man sick thereof in the Gospel, we desire to be carried and commended unto thee by the prayers of others; and sure, O Lord, thou knowest our misery and trou∣ble right well, by the reall experience of that thine

owne, vvhen thou saidst in thine agony, in Mark 14 My soal is exceeding sorrowfull unto the death. O thou that sufferedst the like griefe, remember ours now at this time; O thou that hast dearer bowels of com∣passion to man kind, then the most affectionate mo∣ther can have to her tender child, be not, O be not so so hard hearted unto us

To thrust us from thy face with that hard word, In the immortall censure of thine ire, Depart from me, yee cursed of the Lord, To dwell with Divels in eternall fire.

Well, to go further with continued experience in this trouble, vve find our minds usually to be more full of troubled thoughts and disquietnesse, as also our brests and stomacks to be opprest and charged with a kind of aking pressure and difficulty, about a pretty while after dinner or supper; the arising of melancholly fumes from concoction being, as I con∣ceive, a concurring means somwhat the more to di∣sturbe us, sure there be many outward things that encrease our inward melancholly in this most me∣lancholly time of a troubled conscience, for behold in darke and gloomy vveather, how are we more then ordinary solitarily sad and pensive, being alto∣gether astonished and confounded in our selves with confused clouds of unquiet distempers and amaze∣ment: Againe, at the hearing of dolefull newes of death, or any dismall accidents, how exceedingly will our hearts swell, and be even ready to burst with a mournfull reflecting dejectednesse of mind.

Cum repeto noctos queis tot mihi chara reliquis. Labitur ex oculis tunc quo{que} gutta meis. A teare doth slide down on my cheeks When I think on the nights, Wherein I forced was to leave So many deare delights.

According to this of the Poet here, when as vve do but remember and think on the golden times that are past, when as we do consider the deeds and plea∣sures that we then enjoyed, vvhich being now, gone have left us to remain so unhappy behind them. How full of sadnesse are vve to think that now we are so miserable of what we vvere, speaking mournfully to our selves vvith Iob in the 29. chapter and 2. verse O that vve vvere as in the months past, as in the daies when God preserved us, when his candle shined upon our heads, and when by his light we walked thorough darknesse, as we vvere in the daies of our youth, &c. Wishing, O thus •• say, wishing for no greater happinesse then that those times, and that condition of comfort might returne unto us again, the things and times that are past, though never so lately, seemes to us, me thinkes, better then those that are present; he that is at no ease thinks for the most part what he feels to be the worst: such likewise is the nature of melancholly old age, ever to praise the daies of its youth, for mi••i•• familiari••as parit contemptum, the familiar and satisfying fruition of any thing, breeds a neglect and light re∣gard thereof; and therefore now in our melanchol∣ly moods shall we be many times musing alone, and sadly thinking, perchance whole daies together, on those worthy men that are dead and gone, either of our acquaintance or others, whom we have noted and observed for their good life and conversation here, whilest they were upon earth; accounting highly, of them, as holy and blessed Saints, with a most reverend respect of their deeds and sayings, and ma∣king much reckoning and esteem of whatsoever was theirs, and belonged unto them.

Our serious thoughts do Canonize their fame, With the remembrance of a sacred name.

And as Ioseph in the last of Genesis, fell upon his dead fathers face, wept upon him, and kissed him, so do we fall upon the blessed remembrance of our fore∣fathers, not with a little affection of respect weep∣ing upon them, and kissing them with an holy love, and reverence of mind: After this manner the An∣tients in Scripture seem to expresse their speciall re∣guard to the pions antiquity of their friends departed, in using to say, The God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Ia∣cob, as if they would intimate their piety, and devout affection to be the more unto him, because he was their fathers God. But O the strange effects of Me∣lancholly in this diseased state of the soul, our affe∣ctions are now over-weeningly moved with every thing often times by reason of the usuall passion of the heart, we are so weakened in the ordinary power and ability of nature, that we shall even as weakly and childishly shrinke in our selves, and be affraid of any thing, as is the sucking child that lies in its mo∣thers arms. Againe, somtimes our conceipt doth so much deifie the respect of holy things, persons, and places, and we stand so far off from them in reve∣rence of mind, that we dare not draw neer, as it were, to touch so much as the very hemme or out∣side thereof. In like manner many times the com∣mon splendor of the Sky and Element, thorough the habituall terrour and consternation of our mind, seemeth too bright for us; nay our spirits are usually so much taken off therewith, that we cannot abide to lift up our eyes to behold the lustre of it: the see∣ing and hearing of divers ordinary things now and then, puts us into such strange turmoyles and distem∣pered fits of mind, that it is most wonderfull to ima∣gine it. In many of us the evill thoughts and distur∣bances of our fancy do at length multiply into a greater and greater variety, and we become full of

all sorts of vaine and tormenting imaginations whatsoever almost savours of either rebellion against God, or the despairing state of soul or body; it is a chance but one time or other it comes into ourheads, besides, at length perchance many fooleries of mind and frivolous whimsies, which verily at this time do not a little trouble and disturbe us: amongst the rest, when this trouble of mind and Conscience continues with us long, it is so altogether tedious and irksome, that we shall many a time turne thus our thoughts within our selves: Lord, how shall we hold out in this case? Will this trouble continue with us as long as we live? Shall we alwaies abide this Hell upon earth? We have sometimes emboldened our selves to hope, and hope againe to attaine some quieter temper of mind, and more contentfull condition; all is we see utterly in vaine, we shall sure never enjoy comfort any more: Alas, this is a miserable thing.

O shall we never see an end of this? O never, never, this doth cut the heart; This never, ah! so strange a word it is, It kills us with a never dying smart.

Verily me thinks it is altogether in vaine for us to expect any end hereof, we shall never be otherwise; for as he that is cast upon the Sea, and when he list∣etn up his head to swim out is presently knockt down againe, that he must needs be drowned; so, even so it seems to be with us, we are cast upon this sea of trouble and despaire, and when we do but even be∣gin to lift up our heads with the least hope of amend∣ment, then presently do these despairing doubts, and amazing thoughts strike us down againe, that it is no remedy but we must needs be drowned, drow∣ned for ever, and go down to Hell, and the Grave in this misery.

Our day is gone, our joyes departed qnite, Our Sun is set in everlasting night.

This Similitude of being drowned, after that we have been long in this case, doth so well fit us that it will, or perchance some such like, often come into our minds, and therefore being as we suppofe in this re∣medilesse condition, out of all hope of being setled in mind againe, and being shut out as it were from the joy of the living, and never like to re-attaine the common hope of all men, the possibility of salvation; therefore, as I say, being thus forsaken wretches, mon∣sters of men, and marked out for Hell, we neglect all care of our selves, our desolate and quite comfort∣lesse souls hardly giving us leave to take any use of the Creatures, not so much as regarding our neces∣sary Cloaths, the dressing our selves, our Victuals, or any thing: we are unworthy, O unworthy to tread on the ground, our hearts are so much smitten down, and even withered like Grasse, th••t we for∣get to eat our bread; our tears are now become our meat and drink in this day of trouble; and perad∣venture almost every night we water our beds with the abundance of them: Thou hast broken, O Lord, thou hast broken our hearts with grief; O remember that we poor wretches are but Grasse, and wilt thou pursue the dry stubble? Sometimes it may be we shall be so farre dejected with a Dove-like solitari∣nesse of mind, that we are even upon a resolution to exclude our selves wholly out of the society of men, to be private and alone still, continually to keep our Chamber, or the like, and never to go abroad in company any more; thinking, what shall we do abroad to meddle or make with any thing, who are thus as it were dead men, and out of the common condition of men, we will set up our expe∣ctation therefore, only now to wait and look for out

end; we will do nothing else, that shall be our whole businesse, as it was lobs, in his 14. Chapter, when he said, All the dayes of mine appointed time will I wait, and do nothing else but wait till my change come: thus I say, we are shut up from the joy of life, and like David in the 88. Psalm, Free, even altogether free among the dead, like unto them that be wounded and lye in the Grave, which be out of remembrance, and are cut away from thy hand; thou hast laid us verily as in the lowest p••t, in a place of dark∣nesse, and in the deep, thine indignation lyeth hard upon us, and thou hast vexed us with all thy stormes.

Many times is our apprehension so dangerously out of joynt, and contrary to all good duties, especi∣ally most of all when we are at Church, when we are going to the publike Service of God, receiving the Sacrament, or the like; that we shall ruminate thus in our minds: amongst all the rest of our un∣happinesses, how much do we dishonour God to come to this holy place, and these holy duties with such prophane impieties within us, sure we shall halfe think it better not to come to the holy exercises at all then by going thereto to provoke Gods greater Judgement against us.

Thus doth Devill alwaies 'ploy his wit, If that he can to doe more mischiefe yet.

But certain in the end we ever find it our best way, how crosse and averse soever our mind be to keep our constant course, and to hold on as stedfast as may be in our outward endeavours, though it seeme to be nevet so much against our inward fee∣ling; for we may observe, that when we have no feeling in us in reading, praying, or the like duties of Religion, and when we find nothing in our selves but contrarinesse to that which is in hand, yet never∣thelesse by the then keeping our intention to it as neer as we can; and by lif••ing up our thoughts toward

the sence to conceive and beleeve that which being for the present as we are; we cannot conceive and beleeve we shall doubtlesse afterwards the more easi∣ly bring our thoughts into a due course and order againe; for if we let flag our apprehension wholly to follow our own feeling, and suffer our disturbed soul to be its own guide herein, we may perchance fal into a strange dis-respect and unregardfull prophanation of the most sacred things, that we shall hardly put it freely off again for the future. To proceed, every thing during the time of our trouble is so altogether out of order within us, and our spirits are so daily spent and wearied out with this continuall labour and toyl of mind, that we are as David in his 6. Psalm, so weary, so quite weary of our groanings and tor∣menting troubles, that many times we doe wish to God that our apprehensions and understandings were rather taken cleane from us, then thus to be left alone to the mercilesse torture of those distractions; and truly were it not for Hell we should gladly re∣joyce, and count it our chiefest happinesse to dye, wishing, and often wishing with Iob in his 3 Chap∣ter, the 11. and 12. verses, that we had never been borne into the world, for now (as it followes in the next verse, we should have ••aine still and been quiet, we should have slept, then had we been at rest with Kings and Counsellors of the earth: And againe, as it is in the 20. verse, Why is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the b••tter in soul? Was it a pleasure for thee, O Lord, to give us being that we might be miserable? Are we like the Whales, Iob 7. that thou se••test a watch over us? that thou wilt not spare no•• passe by our iniquities? Wilt thou hunt us (as he he speaks againe in his 10. Chapter) like a fierce Lion without mercy? hast thou provided us as wild beasts are provided, to be baited with destruction?

O no certainly, thou delightest not in the death of

sinners, nor in the sad condition of the wicked, it is doubtlesse thy mercy that we are chastned, and thou hast compassion on our distresses; we shall thinke sometimes in our extreme troubles, that it is not pos∣sible for us, that we can continue in this state above three or foure daies, or a weeke more, but either we shall die with the very anguish of soul and body, which it seems to us that we cannot sustaine or in∣dure any longer, or else that we shall be quite sence∣lesse and distracted out of our minds: O how many poore souls are there in the world, who being not able to beare their owne misery any longer, either destroy and desperately cast away themselves, or per∣adventure grow utterly distracted therein; It is thy mercy, even thy great mercy, O Lord, that we are not thus confounded; O let us ever pray, and pray continually, upon our bare and bended knees, against this unhappinesse, Hoc erit animae me ae vetum us{que} ad mor∣tem, this shall ever be my prayer untill I die, both for my self and others.

Let our lives last no longer Then that we may serve God here; Let affliction grow no stronger, Then we may with patience beare,

When we do use to complaine to others of these terrible thoughts and troubles of mind, many will reply unto us, that they are the Devills, not ours, and that he meerly suggests and whispers them into our braines: But verily me thinks we cannot beleeve but that they are our own truly, flowing from our sin-corrupted souls, at least wise that they are partly our own, for did they come meerly from without, from the Divel, it could not doubtles so neerly touch us as they do. Our Saviour Christ himself was mo∣ved from without, even to the highest impiety, to fall down and worship the Devill: But sure our

thoughts are neerer to us, even from within, and tru∣ly, not without reason, may be called ours: it may be the Devil hath his hand in them, & it is no questi∣on but God hath his hand in them also, laying them as a mercifull judgement upon us: And now, O Lord, it is high time, yea the time is come, that thou have mercy upon our souls, for why I know it grieveth thy very heart, O Lord, it pittieth thee full sore to see them lie in the dust thus prostrate in their own mi∣sery: And thus have we broke the heart of our trou∣bles, and past over the chief passages of this tragicall story of the Soul troubled in Conscience.

These troubles may perhaps continue with us two or three years before they begin to weare away; and then when by Gods mercy, they begin to slacken the mind and conscience, by little and little, takes some rest and satisfaction, and though fits of disturbance do now and then come upon us, yet it is more sel∣dom then before.

After the strength of this storme is past, we usual∣ly feel our inner man begin to be born againe into a new condition, the former hard and stony flesh of our hearts, like N••amons flesh, being tender and ••e∣newed, even as the flesh of a young child 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lo, we can kindly weep now with the humility of chil∣dren, think none evill with the simplicity and single heartednesse of children, love dearly and tenderly with the affection of children, cry Abba, Father, with the comfort and confidence of children. And here me thinks we cannot but remember, even with joy and admiration, the truth of that divine wisdome which our Saviour hath spoken in Iohn▪ Except a man be born againe, be cannot see the Kingdom of God, Except we be borne againe, and become like little children, we cannot enter into the Kingdom of God, for of such as he said in Mark 10. is or doth consist the King∣dom

of God. Doubtlesse, when the soul is thus won∣derfully born againe, from the depth of sin and mi∣sery into comfort and grace, although the comfort be but little, even very little perchance in some of us; yet it is Magna animae regeneratio, I say, no doubt a great regeneration and new birth of the soul, and that which we have great cause to rejoyce of; for you must understand it pleaseth God differently to dispose of the finall period and conclusion of this our trouble according to his most blessed Will and pur∣pose, giving some of us much more joy in the end of it then some; as also in some of us, continuing it like an ach in the limbs, ever now and then to mind us untill our dying day; and some of us againe after a while never feele it any more. O Lord, what reward of thanks can we give unto thy mercy that hast done so great things for us whereof we now rejoyce? Ve∣rily no Tongue can speak, no finite understanding can comprehend, it hath never entred into the appre∣hension of either man or Angell, the infinite good∣nesse that thou dost extend to the souls of sinners.

O now with David we may sweetly sing, * 1.1 Of Mercy and Iudgement to our heavenly King.

And hath the Lord God Almighty, that is most wonderfull in all his Works done this great Miracle for us, in casting out this foul Devill, this foming and raging Beelzebub, this chief of all misery out of our souls? O let us then take heed that we sinne so no more least a worse thing come unto us, least he get power to come in againe, and bring seven other with him worse then himselfe. Here you may take notice as I say, That in some of us this our misery is not so fully quencht, nor this Devill so cast out, but that there remains in us ever now and then the touches of our former misery, though the heart of it be broken yet the being is not wholly taken away;

God in his infinite Wisedome so ordering it, per∣chance to exercise our patience, or some other cause which he only knoweth, and we cannot fully judge; only let this be our chiefest care sithence sin and mi∣sery must needs dwell with us whilst we live, that (if possible) we keep our selves within the compasse of patience, and humility in all conditions of our life, let us in patience possesse our souls; and though as St. Paul in the 20. of the Acts, when he was going to Ierusalem knew not what things should come unto him there, save only saith he, That the Holy Ghost wit∣nesseth in every City, saying, That bands and afflictions abide me: so we that are travelling to the new Ierusa∣lem, being sure of nothing in our Journey, but sure of trouble, yet as Aeneas in the Poet, comforted his wandering Souldiers, whom necessity had banisht from their own Country, that the Destiny had pro∣mised them in the end a resting place in Italy, I say as he thus comforted them:

Pervarios casos per tot discrimina rerum tendimus in latium sedes ubi fata quietus ostendunt.

So in like manner may we Pilgrims and Stron∣gers of this world thus cheere up our selves in consi∣deration of our Journies end, although that now

Thorough many dangers, miseries and woe, Like Pilgrimes we are tossed to and fro: Our comfort is, the Fates tell we shall come In death at length to have a resting home.

Whilst this our trouble is wearing away we shall be for the most part full of charitable and fellow-feeling thoughts to be lovingly affected, and doing good unto all, especially to the distressed in what case soever, even unto our utmost ability; as also we shall use to be frequently weeping, and condoling our un∣happy life; weeping I say, and sorrowing like me∣lancholiy Heraclitus, and wishing that we might dis∣solve

out the residue of our daies into teares, in redee∣ming the time because our daies have been so evill; and that the whole action of our momentary life might now be nothing else but a mournfull and Swan-like Song of preparation to our end.

Our sighing soul with Dove-like melody L••ments her sins, and learneth how to dye.

Iacob when Pharaoh asked him how old he was, an∣swered, That his daies were few and evill; how much more truly may we say of our short and sinfull daies, that they are few and evill: he was an old man, and yet his daies were few, he was a good man, and yet his daies were evill. Oh the short and evill estate of mans life! wise men have alwaies accounted their daies but few, for that their thoughts are fixt upon God, and then saies David, Min•• age is nothing in respect of thee; and againe, for that their thoughts are fixt upon the blessed Eternity of the world to come, and then they consider with St. Paul, That they have no continuing City here, but they seeke one to come. I say, wise men thus esteemed their daies few, and they accounted them likewise evill; evill in regard of sin, for they feele the experience of St. Pauls case, That when they would doe good evill is present with them: and evill also in regard of misery, for Iob saies, Man is borne to trouble as the sparkes fly upwards. And is it not too true that man is thus borne to trouble? If not, what meaneth that complayning which I heare? Harke how Cai••e cries out in the fourth of Genesis, My punishment is greater then that I am able to beare; and do you not heare Eliah under the Juniper Tree, in the first of Kings, the 19. Chapter, how he requesteth for himselfe, That he might dye: and Ionah under the Gourd, saying, Take away my life, for it is better for me to dye then to live. Ieremy is even blind with weeping, Lamentations the second Chapter, Mine eyes doe faile with teares, my bowels are

troubled, my liver is poured out upon the earth and all for the affliction of his people for the misery of man; Salomon in the 6. of Ecclesiastes, thinks it farre better not to be borne then to undergoe the miseries of this life; how often doth Iob lament his daies, and David complaine of his troubles? the Shunamites. Child in the second of Kings cries out, O my head, my head; another perchance cries out, Oh my stomack, oh my heart, oh my Conscience, oh my belly, oh my feet; A capite ad calcem, from the top to the toe, from the beginning to the end; for ought we can perceive there is little true comfort or pleasure in the life of man.

With teares we came into this life, With sorrow we go out againe: We live in trouble, care, and strife, And have our labour for our paine.

We have seen not a little experience of the mani∣fold changes and variety of alterations that are Crea∣ted for mankind under the Sun, and verily me thinks the counsell of Ecclesiasticus in his 38 Chapter, and the 20 Verse, well weighing the condition of all things is full of wisedom and discretion, that is, To take no heavinesse to heart, to drive it away, and to remem∣ber the latter end. I say, To take no heavinesse to heart; that is, Not to grieve over much, or take on out of reason, least as St. Paul said of the excommu∣nicate person in the second Epistle to the Corinthians, and second Chapter, We be swallowed up of too much sorrow; for this being swallowed up too much, this over-yeelding up our strength of nature to solitary griefe, and mournfull Melancholly gives the Devill many times great advantage of us, as he intimates in the 11. verse of the aforesaid Chapter, Least Sathan, saies he, should g••t advantage of us; for we are not igno∣rant of his devices, indeed we ought duly to be hum∣bled,

and as St. Paul speaks in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, the 5. Chapter, To deliver over our selves, our sencelesse stubbornnesse unto Satan for a time, for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Iesus. But we must understand also, that it is not convenient for us to grieve without measure, and without end, for certainly it is not the sorrow of heart that doth help us in such disease, it may hinder us of help, it is the religious cheerfulnesse of a better desire that in time works the cure; there∣fore we may herein advise our selves as St. Paul did Timothy, in his first Episte unto him, and 5. Chap∣ter, To drink no longer water, that is, not to feed too much on the bread of carefulnesse, nor drink in the water of affliction into our souls, but to use therewith a little wine; I say a little wine, Wine which (as Da∣vid saith) maketh a merry heart; to strive to take com∣fort, and to be merry in the feare of God, whereby nature may be the better enabled also, to set to her assisting hand in the deliverance: Mirth cannot erre as long as it remembers its latter end, and the feare of God, to enjoy both our selves and Gods blessings in a moderate and cheerfull manner is not only law∣full but necessary for us; Religion is no enemy to honest mirth, neither doth the Almighty desire the death of sinners, but their life; their death of griefe but their life of grace. Alas, we are but weak Crea∣tures, and of a short continuance. O Lord, we have sinned, as Iob saith in his seventh Chapter, What shall we doe unto thee, O thou preserver of men? and as he saith againe in his sixth Chapter, Is our strength the strength of stones; or is our flesh of brasse? O Lord, we cannot abide the fury of thy wrath for sin, nor are we able to behold thy sierce indignation; thou therefore that bringest man to destruction, humblest him downe to Hell, and the Grave, and sweetly sayest, Come

againe yee children of men, re-exaltest him to thy fa∣vour. O consider that our age is short, even no more then as a span long, we are, alas we are but Pilgrimes, Strangers, and Sojourners here as all our fathers were; O spare us, therefore spare us a little, this little space which remaines of our life, that we may recover our strength, before we go hence and be no more seene.

Before we goe thither from whence we shall Returne no more, no more, no more at all.

And now me thinks I heare the Body thus speak∣ing unto the Soule, O my love, wilt thou goe away from me? Alas, wilt thou goe away from me? thou knowest that I have no comfort at all but thee, thou art my joy, my whole delight, and wilt thou be gone, and leave me behind here to be ut∣terly cast away, to putrifie, rot, and perish in the earth? If the Disciples were so sad and sorrowfull at the departure of St. Baul, in that he said, They should see his face no more; how doest thou think I can chuse but even swoone and dye with conceit that thou wilt thus leave me, me poore wretch, that can have no being nor subsistence without thee? but lo, the Soul replies. Why dost thou weep my deare? though I must goe from thee for a time yet be not discomfor∣ted, I will come and see thee againe, and embrace thee with everlasting embracements, I will then never goe from thee more; O give me leave to de∣part, for God hath decreed it, Nature hath appointed it, we cannot live together on Earth as we be, but we shal live together hereafter in a most absolute and per∣fect being, we must needs submit to mortality:

Ah, there's no continuing here, my sweet heart, Death doth the dearest lovers part; For why? we are mortall and all must away, To take our lodging down in the clay.

But though we lye down yet shall we rise againe,

and that even in a while; for loe, but little while, and he that shall come to open the Graves, to fold up the Heavens like a scroll, and to unbarre the fatall strength of time; I say, he that shall come will come, and will not tarry. Oh! but a little while, and the Son of man shall appeare like the bright Lightning, with the glorious company of his most holy An••els, to gather together the foure corners of the earth, even the people from the one end thereof unto the other unto a day of Judgement, where we shall then stand before the Judgement Seat of God, to be setled in a perpetuall and never ending condition: where∣fore let our spirits, O let our spirits, and all that is within us with the aspiring Lark humbly mount up to meet the Lord in the Clouds now before hand; with this melodious Antheme, this song of Sion in our mouthes, O blessed Iesu, remember us with mercy wh••n thou commest into thy Kingdome; O thou that commest •••• judge the world condemn••us not for our sins at the last day; O sweet Saviour deliver us from that red Dragon, which ••peneth his terrible mouth ready to devoure us: O preserve us a while here on earth, that we may be with thee for ever in Heaven.

To see the mighty glory and renowne Of him that is, and was, and is to come,

And to that end make us, O make us in these few houres which we have to live, never to forget the words which thou faidest of thy selfe in the ninth of St. Iohn, the fourth verse, whilst thou wast on earth amongst us: I must worke the workes of him that sent me while it is day, the night commeth when no man can worke: That we may take this thy example for a patterne all our lives long, and may turne this thy holy resoluti∣on into our practice and meditation continually. First, that as thou didst worke, so must we worke here and not be idle. 2. That as thou didst worke

the works of him that sent thee into the world, so must we also work the will of our father which is in Heaven. 3. That as thou didst it in thy day, so must we do it in our day, this day of our life. 4. For as the night, the night of thy Passion commeth, so our night of death is continually approaching. 5. And then no man can work, even no man at all can work out his salvation. O excellent rule I here is roome enough for our souls to exercise their thoughts day and night, even this day of working untill that night of rest; this day of life untill that night of death, when no man can work. To begin with the first observation, that as our Saviour Christ so must we Christians work and take pains; before Israel could come to their Canaan of rest they did passe thorough a wildernesse of troubles: no end can be attained but by the means▪ there is no comming to salvation but by the way, no getting into Heaven but thorough the Gate; and our Saviour hath told us (we must be∣leeve it) That straight is that Gate, and narrow is that way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that finde it: if we must eat our bread with the sweat of our brows, sure we cannot save our souls with being idle. if God will not part from his earthly things, which in St, Pauls language are but dung, unlesse we give for them our labour and travell, will he sell us that pre∣cious pearl, the Kingdom of Heaven for nothing? No, no; the Merchant-man in the Gospell sold all that he had to buy it, and we must not think to have it at a cheaper rate. Quam laboren suscipimus ascendere colles quid vero ut ascendamus coelum. So St. Cyprian, what labour do we take to get up a hill, how much more must we take to get up to Heaven. Our Savi∣our tooke not his Disciples of idle persons, but of painefull Fishermen, and from the midst of their la∣bours to shew us, that Christianity is not a lazie

Trade, an idle Profession: there is not one of the Saints gone before us but hath trod many a weary step ere he came to Heaven, the gall of outward crosses, and the vinegar of inward afflictions that was their portion to drink; and doubtlesse had there been an easier way they had not all trod in so rugged a path. Christ is truly our way, and he himselfe had no better portion in all his life, but continuall labour and travell; he was alwaies working, as here I must work, saies he, The works, &c. he was ever all his life long walking to and fro, taking care and pains in Preaching, doing Miracles, full of troubled and pen∣sive thoughts, ••orrowing and weeping even many times in the griefe of his spirit, but seldome or not at all shall we finde him sitting still without employ∣ment, laughing, making merry, or taking any recrea∣tion, and though we cannot come neere his perfe∣ction, yet saith one, Deus abunde declaravit in fillio qua ratione servos suos in hoc orbe tractari veli••. God hath plainly shewed, that since his Son did undergoe so much trouble, his servants may not expect only to live at pleasure, in rest and content. What a toyl had Saint Paul to passe thorough this vale of misery in watchings, in fasting, in prayer, in fightings, in all manner disquietnesse.

Nunquam bella piis nunquam certamina desunt, Et quocum certet meus pin semper bab••t. Tryalls and troubles alwaies are at hand, True piety of minde for to withstand.

The righteous man must not look to have his por∣tion of good things in this life, all that will live god∣ly here are to make their accounts of nothing else but difficulties and carefull inconveniences to attend them; snares and temptations from without, terrors and distresse of mind from within; every day, every houre, every moment, something is out of order; if

we be not furnished from top to toe with Saint Pauls Armour, we must looke for nothing but wounds and foyles in this spirituall life, for Congrediendum est tan∣quam in arie voluptuariis rebus; so Macrobius, We must fight like Souldiers against the temptations of the World, and as Souldiers we must not only fight, but watch too. Watch, I say, day and night, standing in readinesse against our spirituall adversary, who go∣eth about continually like a roaring Lyon, seeking whom he may devoure. What shall I say? if we looke on all particulars, a christians life is nothing for the most part, but a reall purgatory upon Earth, an Hereulian labour, the very Epitome of all diffi∣culties. Lucian could say it, Non parum est resistere to•• quidem voluptatibus, It is no small matter to encoun∣ter with so many pleasures, much more with so many sins, so many terrors of mind; we have here verily a hard race to run, a hard Battell to fight, yet so fight we, as not those that beat the ayre; so run we, as not uncertainly; there is an eternall weight of glory set before us, a certainty of comfort in the end; feare not, our Saviour hath said it, it is your Fathers plea∣sure to give you a Kingdome for your labour, Quod∣libet opus leve est quum praemium ejus cogitatur, saith Ierome, There is no pains can be thought too much, when we consider the greatnesse of the recompence. Saint Paul is perswaded that nothing that we undergoe in this life, can be worthy the glory that shall be revealed; and well might he so thinke: O Lord, the utmost that we can do or suffer, is not worth the least glimpse of that glory which thou hast prepared for them that love thee, and yet thou acceptest the weaknesse of our poore desires, as an ample satisfaction; when we have done all that possibly we can do. we have done but our duties, we are unprofitable servants, and yet so abundant is thy goodnesse towards us, that thou wilt

be pleased to impute that unto us, which is so small a matter, that we cannot of our selves acknowledge it to be any thing, for they shall answer as it is in the 25. of Saint Matthew, When saw we thee hungry, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drinke, &c. And the King shall answer and say unto them again, Verily I say unto you, in as much as yee have done it unto the least of these my Brethren, yee have done it, &c. Verily, I will accept of this, this nothing, as it were, of yours, as a great reward, and this is the reward, this is the price that we must give for Heaven, a purchase truly vvell worth the utmost that vve can do: For

Quid potes aeterno pro munere forre laboris, Mercedi an tantae par labor esse potest.

I say,

What labour is enough? what sweat? what paine? For to receive such an immortall gaine.

Be we not startled at the difficulty of the worke, for saith Seneca, It is not the part of a man, to be affraid of labour, much lesse of a Souldier, and much lesse yet of a christian Souldier, who serves such a Generall, that he may be sure will never deceive him, nor cast him off without his pay, for he serves him with whom there is no variablenesse at all, nor shadow of change, even God himselfe; which is the next observation, and now to be considered. As our Saviour vvrought the vvorks of him that sent him into the world, so must vve Christians vvorke and do the will of our Father which is in Heaven, vve are taught, not my, but thy will be done, & quid melius potes velle quam qu•••• Deus vult, what is there that thon canst rather desire then to do the vvill of God? saith the Philosopher, Gods will is the Centre of all humane wills, where they naturally enjoy their rest and quiet, and though they may for a time seeme to fixe a kinde of delight and pleasing satisfaction on other things, yet is there

no true, no perfect and full rest, but in Gods vvill. O thou soul of man, why dost thou send out thy thoughts so far, to seeke rest and happinesse in rithes, in honours, in learning, in pleasure; alas, in these things it is not to be found, intra te est falicitas tua, thou must looke after it within thee, if thou meane to finde it thy understanding, thy vvil, and thine affections, sweetly turned to the Service of God; This, O this, alone is that good vvhich hath true content. No, S••mpsons strength, Salomons vvisdome, or Davids victo∣ries, can give any felicity at all to the mind of man▪ vvithout God; in the performance of Gods vvill is the vvhole perfection of mans good: And therefore

When Adam did at first Gods will transgresse, He made us slaves to all unhappinesse,

That was it that brought so much trouble, so many sicknesses, so much death and hell into the World▪ and it is that still that keeps us in perpetuall misery; we eat and are not satisfied, we labour and have no comfort therein, and all because we do not fully submit our selves to Gods Will; there is nothing can do us good any further then as it is conformable to the Will of God: for behold, we may work, and work hard all our lives long even in the best things, and be never the nearer Heaven. Thus doth our Re∣ligion make no progresse to salvation, when we will be religious only after our own fashion; here none but such things as please our humour, practice such piety as huggs our Genious▪ this is as St. Paul speaks in the third Chapter of the second Epistle to Timothy, this is verily I say, to be lovers of pleasures, of our own phansie and delight, more then lovers of God, having in profession a forme of godlinesse, but in effect denying the power thereof: and thus, when there is so much of our selves put into the duties of Religion, our fasting, our prayers, our almes, and the like, we

may say as St. Iames did in another case, Sure this Re∣ligion is vaine, and altogether in vaine. Tam grande malum est voluntas propria. So great a mischiefe, saith St. Bernard is our own will, even so great a mischief that it breaks the neck of all religious duties be they never so glittering, making them as the father hath it only, Splendida peccata, glorious sins, whereas an humble conformity to do the Will of God, though with the meanest abilities is a great proficiency in Christianity, a little leaven of our own wtll and hu∣mour in the service of God is of such an infectious strength, that it is able to sower the whole lump of Religion; so necessary it is for us, as our Saviour saith to, Beware of this leaven of the Pharisees, the hu∣moursome selfe-conceitednesse of our owne waies, Whosoever will come after Christ must deny himselfe, I say, must deny himselfe, and take up his Crosse and follow him; for they that are Christs have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts; they have renounced their owne wils, they have put off themselves with that fiat voluntas tua, Thy will be done. It shall not profit us to give away all our goods to the poore, or even to l••se our lives, unlesse it be in Ordine ad Deum, to per∣form Gods will, & for his sake. S. Paul vvhen he be∣gan to live the life of a Christian, left off to live the life of a naturall man, I live, saith he, Gal. 2. 2. Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. Thus must Christianity thrust out nature because the naturall man cannot please God; O Lord, whilst we are in the flesh, we cannot serve thee as we would; but Oh that we were delivered from this servitude of sin, that we might freely imbrace this hea∣venly imployment, Maxiraum est munus Deo ministrare, Isocrates counts it the best office in the World to serve God; And how can it be otherwise? for as one notes, that Saints in Heaven do rather rejoyce in doing the will of God, then in injoying their owne happinesse.

O blessed worke, can we but desire that which is as good as Heaven it selfe.

The trade of Saints is to rejoyce alwaies In their Creators will, and sing his praise.

For thus they say in the fourth of the Revelations, and the 11. vers. Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour, and power, for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created, because thy will is ful∣filled, therefore we rejoyce and set forth thy glory for ever, It vvas the very meat and drinke of our blessed Savi∣our all the while that he vvas in the World, to do his Fathers vvill, sure he loved it so much that he did no∣thing else from his childhood to his death; and he that did so much delight in it himselfe, doth so much like it in us, and so highly esteeme it, that for it he doth not onely vouchsase us the name of friends, but vve must claime kinred with him, he hath said it himself, He that doth the will of my Father, he is my Bro∣ther, and Sister, and Mother; Drexelius makes it to be the perfection of felicity, unicam in omnibus Dei volun∣tatem, &c. to be observant in all things to the vvill of God, is the compendium and summe of a most ••ap∣py life; since then vve are to do the worke and vvill of such a Master, vvhose service is an happinesse, vvhose commands are not grievous, and delights not in bloody sacrificing of our selves, but onely in a cheerfull obedience: O let us not be vvorse then the Centurians servants, who when to one of them he saith, go, he goeth; and to another come, he cometh, and to the third, do this, and he doth it.

So much for the second thing to be considered, That we must do the will of our heavenly Father. The third is, That we must do it in this our day or opportunity of life, while it is day. Not moneths, not yeares, not ages, are to be expected, we have but a day for it, and no more,

we may husband this short time to our best advan∣tage, to day if we will heare his voice vve may, for this is the appointed time, this is the day of sal∣vation, aut nunc aut nunquim, what we do we must do now or never, up therefore and be doing, pre∣sens tempus operationis est futurum retributionis, so saith Nazianz••n, the present time is the time of vvorking, the time to come is the time of rest, the least neg∣lect at this time is an everlasting losse and hin∣derance to us; wee shall never have againe the opportunity we now have, aliqua est rerum omnium re∣cuperatio nulla temporis, saith one, there may be some re∣covering or▪ repairing of any thing else that vve lose, none at all of time, our money, our honour, our health, may be restored again but our time is so preti∣ous, that if once lost, it is for ever lost. Lamachus, a Captaine, on a certaine time chid one of his Souldi∣ers for committing a fault in the Field; the Souldier promised him never to do so againe, but he replies, in bello non licet bis peccare, good fellow thou maist not commit a fault twice in the Battell since that one fault is enough to lose all: It is our case. Post est occa∣sio calva, this opportunity being once lost, can never be recalled, this day being gone no man can vvorke▪ there is a time vvhen the Virgins may enter in with the Bridegroome, there is also a time when the doore is shut; there is a time when the poole of Bethesda is troubled by the Angell, and there is also a time when it is not; vere poenitens de tempore nihil perait, saith Saint Bernard, the true repentant Christian omits no season∣able time, because he cannot tell when he shall have another; the wise man bids thee go to the Pismire thou sluggard, she ployes her time in the Harvest, to provide against winter, this is the summer and har∣vest for our salvation.

Non estas ita semper erit componite nidos. The Summer that is now cannot long last, O then provide before it be all past.

O let us provide, I say provide in time, Before (as Salomon saith) the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the Pitcher broken at the ••ountaine, or the wheele broken at the Cisterne; then shall the dust re∣turne to the earth as it was, and the spirit returne to God that gave it.

Dum vires annique sinunt tollerate laborem, Iam veniet tacito curva senecta pede.

It is here good to take the Poets advice, to worke whilst we have strength and vigour, whilst we have marrow in our bones, and perfect health in our bo∣dies; there is a night of old age too as well as of Death, and then no man can well worke; we must consecrate the first fruits of our age to Religion, and remember our Creator in the daies of our youth.

Non semper vtolae non semper lillia florent. The Violets, and the sweetest Lillies, they Doe soone put off their brave and rich aray.

The flower and chiefe of our age will quickly fade, so soone passeth it away and we are gone. Have we any businesse of moment to be done, we will be sure to be stirring betimes about it; the worke of our sal∣vation concerns us more then any work, then any busines besides. O let us then be stiriing betimes about this, early in the morning, I say the morning of our youth, which is the best time of working. Collige vir∣go rosas & memor esto aevum sic properare tuum, O young man, gather the prime Rose of thy time while it is fresh, for remember ere night the Sun will make it wither. Is there not a season saith, the Wise man, and a time for every purpose under the Heaven? a time to be born, and a time to dye, &c. Our words here answer him,

There is a day to worke, and a night not to worke, a day for employment, and a night for rest: The bu∣sie Bee is hot at her labour in the Sunshine, whilst lazie man lyes asleep in the shadow. O the foolish∣nesse! O the madnesse of man, to lose so much time of so little! How many excuses do we make, rather then we will take the pains to go to Heaven? How many daies do we put off with a Cras, cras; to mor∣row, to moroow, when wo is us many times the last s••nd of our life is even now running out; this is our wont, commonly to procrastinate from one day to another, from one moneth, from one yeare, from one time to another, till at last peradventure it be too late; the day sure is farre spent, and the night is at hand, let us take heed, it is great folly to say, We will live as we should to morrow, we must live to day if we will be sure to live at all; he that deserreth the time of his working in this life, shall not be able to deferre his punishment in the life to come; Et acerbissima est mora quae t•• ahit penam, And that is a most bitter delay (saith St. Austine) which increaseth our p••n••shment; he that doth not prevent it bef••r•• shall repent it after when it is in vaine. In all other things ••e do finde the danger of delaies, and we can take heed to prevent it: we will not lose a faire day in Harvest, a prosperous gale of wind to set to Sea, an advantage to get preferment, and the like: See in eve∣ry thing else we can be wise enough save only in this and this only unto salvation. I shall wish that for our selves which Moses did for the Children of Israel, Deut. 32. and the 29. Oh that we were truly wise, that we understood this, that we would consider our lat••er end; Oh that we would remember (with David) how short our time is, Oh that we would remember (with Sa••••mon) the end, and then we should not do amisse; Oh

that we would duely consider with our Saviour here, that the night is at hand, we would doubtlesse worke while it is day, because the night commeth; which is he fourth Observation, and comes next to be thought on; for the night, the night of our death commeth, or is continually approaching; the night, a long night that shall never have a morning.

Soles occider•• & redire possunt, Nobis cum s••mel occidit brevis lux, Nox est perpe••uo u•••• dormierd••.

The Sun setteth and returnes againe, but man dy∣eth, and where is he? He shall not returne againe from the Grave, and his place (saith Job) sball know him no more: Oh, alas, no more for ever.

From all our friends, our goods, and houses, we By death must part to all eternity▪ O woe is us that we must needs away, Ne're to come back no more, no more for aye.

Never to see againe, be acquainted with, or so much as to heare of any of these earthly things any more, with which many of us are now so earnestly and wholly taken up, as if there were no other thing or being to be thought on. O me, what pitty is it:

That most of us so lavishly do spend Our daies, as if they never should have end: Our thoughts with death we never care to try, Till death it selfe doth teach us how to dye.

Till death seize upon us, and the night be at hand wherein no man can work: for we must be assured that this long, this everlasting night continually commeth on towards us, there is no escaping of death; no Achitopbels policy is able to bribe or put off this faithfull Pursevant of Heaven: we must all, all away to our long home, and make our beds in the

dust. What man liveth and shall not see death, or shall de∣liver his soul from the hand of Hell? Omnes eadem sorte premimur, Mine, thine, his, and every ones Lot is cast, the houre and the minute of our lives is limi∣ted; farre off it cannot be, for it commeth, or is comming, how soon we cannot tell: Watch there∣fore, even watch continually since yee know not the houre: Vitae summa brevis spem nos ve•• at incboare longam. The whole summe of our life is but short, how then can we expect death to be farre off. David calls our life a shadow, Job a smoake, Salomon a Ship: In a Ship, saith a Father, whether we sit or stand we are alwaies carried towards the Haven; so our life is ever moving towards death, no houre but the Sun goes Westward, no moment but our age hastens to its end, to its long end, it will quickly come, the longest day hath his night; Methusalem hath his mo••∣tuus est, and he dyed: I say, the longest day hath its night, and here it puts me in minde of that our Pro∣verbiall saying, All the life-long day, the day fitly expressing our life, and our life a day; a day, only a summers day towards the evening the Sun shines out most bright and glorious, and loe presently it is downe: such is the shortnesse and sudden departure of our life, that David in like manner hath most aptly expressed it by a tale; We bring our yeares (saith he) to an end even as it were a tale that is told; for when it goes pleasantly on, and we expect to heare more of it, be∣fore we are aware on't it is ended: thus as it were, In the midst of life we are in death, and are cut away like the flower which fadeth in a moment; verily therefore all flesh is Grasse, and the glory thereof but as the flower of the field: and yet such is most times our folly, so to build up our thoughts here upon Earth as if we had an Eternity to live for ever; whereas do but we duely

consider it, every day that goes over our heads bids us be in readinesse for death, gives a sufficent Item of Mortality:

Immortalia nesperes monetannus & almain &c. So ma∣ny daies, so many moneths, so many yeares past and gone, so many passing Bells, so many Funerals cele∣brated before our eyes must needs forbid us to expect a long time. Saint Chrysostome saith, That nothing hath deceived men so much as the vaine hope of a long life; who knoweth the Sun may set at the mor∣ning of our life. or at noone; if at neither of these yet be sure the Evening commeth, and then it will set. The Lord bids Moses in the 19. Chapter of Exodus, To prepare the people against the third day, al∣though we passe over the first day our youth, and the second day our middle age, yet at furthest we must be ready against the third day our old age: the first or the second day may be our last, the third day must needs be our last: and therefore saith Seneca, Om∣nis dies sicut ultima est ordinanda: Every day ought so to be ordered as if we should not live a day longer. Me thinkes Saint Austines experience should be a sufficient warning to us, for saith he, Experti sumus multos 'expirasse expectantes reconciliari: We have seene many to have been cut off, whilst they have but begun to make their reconciliation with God. too too many alas there be whose Sun hath set ere they thought it to be their Mid-day. Let us take heed that death steale not on us as a thiefe in the night; Lucius Caesar dyed in the morning putting on his Cloathes, Alphonsus a young man dyed as he was riding on his Horse: We need not seeke after forraigne Examples, there be too many of the same nature at home with us. How many have we seene before our eyes, some to be snacht from their pleasures, some from their sinnes, some from their worldly employments;

whereas they have made their accounts of many years to come, so true is that of the Poet:

Nemo tam divos habuit faventes, Crastinum ut possit polliceri diem. The Gods no man did ere such favour give, That he was sure another day to live.

There is no certainty of this life not for a d••y, not for an houre, no not so much as for a moment; God hath many means to take us away even in an instant, as we go up and downe, as we sleep, as we do but draw our breath, any how; good is it therefore that we have a Memento mori alwaies, at all times hanging over our heads, like that Sword in the Story which hung by a Horse haire over the head of him that sate at Feast, putting us in a due feare and warning of the continuall danger that we are in; I say alwaies hang∣ing over our heads, and so imprinted in our thoughts that we may seriously remember how short our time is, how soone our night commeth; It is Platoes Opi∣nion, That a wise mans life is nothing but a conti∣nuall thinging or meditating upon death, Philip King of Macedonia had his Page three times every morning to tell him, Philip, remember that thou art a man, that thou art mortall, that th••u must dye. O excellent Me∣mento, and most worthy to be imitated; the Empe∣rour of Constantinople was wont sitting in his Roy∣all Throne to have a Mason come to him with his Tooles in his hand, asking, What kind of stone he would have his Tombe made of; intimating, that he should not forget how soone all that his Royall pompe might be buried in the Grave.

And here me thinks I cannot but repeat, The famous Act of Saladine the great.

Who amidst his noble Victories, and conquering Triumphs, had so much minde of his death, and the

true end of all earthly glory, that he appointed his winding shee•• to be carried upon a Speare before him at his Funerall thorough out the City, proclai∣ming thus his intention of minde.

All these my Riches, glorious Pompe and Traine, When D••••th is come they are to me in vaine: This Winding sheet is all that I shall have Along with me, to carry to the Grave.

The good Father was so mindfull of Mortality, that he had alwaies ringing in his eares, Surgite mor∣tui & venite ad judicium, Rise yee dead and come to Judgement, to the end he might husband his time; so worke in this day of his life here, that he might not be found an unprofitable Servant when his night came. Iohannes Godfridus had these words en∣graven in Gold; Every day I stand at the doore of Eternity. And in divers parts of his House he had set up the bones and Sculls of dead men, that so his eyes if it were possible might have no other Object to behold then of mortality. Sure there are no thoughts doe more concerne us Mortalls then those of Death; O then, Teach us so Lord to number our daies that wa may apply our hearts unto wisedom, that our souls may so wisely esteeme the shortnesse of this life, that we may never forget this; this I say, in the Field, in our Journey, in our Beds, at all times, and every where, while it is day, whilst we live; that the night, that is, our death commeth, and then no man can work; which is the last observeable thing, and the effect of the night. No man can worke. Man goeth forth to his worke and to his labour untill the Evening. Vntill the evening, no longer; we have done in this life whatsoever we shall doe. Mors ultima linia rerum. Death is the full period of all our Actions, there remaines now no more teares of Repentance, no more works of Piety,

no more sacrifice for sinne, no more, I say, no more for ever: Phisick comes too late when the party is deceased. Actum est, we have acted••our parts here whilst we were in this life, all now is done, the scene is ended. Remember my Sonne, that thou in thy life time receiveast thy good things, that thou hadst then the opportunity to have made thy selfe happy for ever if thou wouldst: but what canst thou now give to redeeme thy soul, when instead of good workes thou hast nothing but paine and torment, instead of the godly sorrow of repentance, nothing but the Hellish sorrow of despaire. Oh how many millions of years would the miserable soul be glad to work the hardest work that might be invented, if it were but possible for her to work out her salvation; O how precious would she esteeme those minutes, and gather up those crummes of time which she hath here so foolishly neglected: and thus me thinks that lamentable voice of the untimely departed soul doth sound this war∣ning peale in our eares▪

All yee that live, by me learne to be wise, Your precious time at higher worth to prize: For ••oe alas, my time was past so soone, That night was come ere that I thought it noone.

And now too late unhappy wretch Idearly lament my headlesse f••lly; Spes omnium in bot or be molestiarum est admirabile lenimentum. Hope saith Drexelius, is an excellent refreshing, and comfort in all the troubles of this life; as long as there is some hope there is some comfort, and be our miseries never so great, we are here in possibility to have ease of them: but after death there is not the least possibility, hope, or com∣fort a•• all to be expected, the Doome is past, no man can work, all the world is not able to purchase one drop of ease or refreshing any more. O that it is too

late, too late, too late to cry for mercy; O that the doore is shut and there is no entering in. Give me saith one, a River of teares to weep before I dye: well might he wish it, for he knew there was no weeping to any purpose when he was dead.

O let me weep, weep, weep, and ne're give o're My sins, till I have washed cleane away: O let me never cease for to implore My Iudge, till I come to the Iudgement Day.

O let us repent now, for we cannot repent in that day, if ever we meane to doe our selves good, now is the time, because we cannot worke when the night is come: Let us therefore worke while it is day, while we have time, while we may vvork: Obsecro vos, O Christiant per vos perquae salutem vestram, &c. as Drexelius bespake his Auditers, so let me bespeake our soules and selves. O yee Christian soules, yee souls vvhom Christ hath dyed for; let me beseech you for your ovvne sake, for your salvations sake, for your Saviours sake that yee vvould avoid this Ship∣wrack, the danger is certain, if we looke not to it in time; as long as life lasts our amendment is not too late: doe we fall by sin a thousand times, we may rise againe by repentance a thousand times: We may be∣gin any day, any houre to become better; But in death no man remembreth thee, O Lord, and who can give thee thankes in the Grave. As David did concerning Bath∣sheba's Child, so whilst life is in us we may weepe, and humble our selves by repentance, but in death all hope, all possibility of recovery is cut off. Whilst we have therefore time let us make use of it; I say, let us take it whilst we have it, for time will stay for no man: it is but a while that we have to worke, one daies labour will make us happy forever, our Fathers have had their daies and are gone, and now this is our day. I say, ours, if we lose it not; our day and

portion of time which God hath allotted us to work•• out our salvation in. Woe is us then if we work not even triplox vae, an woe, and an Eternall woe. We vvould faine depart and be in Heaven, O let us do our taske whilst we are on earth. To conclude, let not the Sun set upon our wrath, upon our lust, upon our covetuousnesse, upon our pride, and the like; alas, what a dismall: what a dolefull night must we then expect: Let us not be wearv of well doing, for in due season we shall reape, if we saint not, let us now go on in our way towards Heaven weeping, and we shall returne with sheaves in our bosome, let us so we in teares, and we shall reape in joy; let us be found so working now in this day of our life, that at the night of our death, when our Lord and Master Christ Jesus cometh, we may partake of that blessednesse which is promised in the Gospel to that Servant, who when his Master commeth he sball finde so doing, so shall we receive that e••ge boni servi, Well done yee good and faithfull servants, enter you therefore into your Masters joy. Amen.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Psal. 101. 1