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 endued with Grace.

THe natural disposition and temper of man being much addicted to Melan∣choly, will be apt in very childhood to make our apprehension lay cares and sadnesse neer our heart, to delight our selves in solitarinesse, and to spend the time in Soliloquies and private Specu∣lations: even so much may nature be enclin'd to these exercises of Contemplation and such fictions of Phancie, that many an hour shall we sacrifice to this our genius; gladly separating our selves from Company, and picking out what time we can spare for this purpose. These Con∣templations with which our Christian thoughts will be thus aff••cted, are chiefly grounded at first on the familiar objects of Sense, and raised to some divine and heavenly purpose; either shall we be soaring up to the considerati∣on of the glorious magnificence of those more excellent Creatures, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars; or hovering low∣er upon the delightful variety of Beasts, of Fowls, of Fi∣shes, upon the strange diversity of Nations, of Countreys and Kingdoms; again another while perchance we shall be conversing with God by magnifying his greatnesse; as thus: O Lord our Governour, how excellent is thy Name in all the world! thou that hast set thy glory above the heavens: or by admiring his mercy; as thus: Thy mercy, O Lord, reach∣eth unto the heavens, and thy faithfulnesse unto the clouds: or expostulating with him concerning Mankinde; as thus:

Oh remember how short our time is: wherefore had thou made all men for nought? Our thoughts this way will be usually very deep, very serious and earnest; and we shall be af∣fected with them to the life, insomuch that they will of∣ten provoke in us the passion of grief with tears of joy, with exceeding cheerfulnesse of minde, even according to that pathetical affection of David, when he said, My lips will be feyn when I sing unto thee, and so will my soul, &c. We shall, I say, be serious, even so serious and entirely bent to those sweet Melancholy thoughts, and so affe∣ctionately moved with them, that we shall scarce ever think our selves truely and really recreated, but whilst we are thus meditating on religious matter, and exerci∣sing our thoughts in such heavenly notions.

Here lies our Love, our Dear, and onely One: Here's our life's Joy; here 'tis, and here alone.

Here, I say, lie the joy and sweetnesse of our life; and that, first, because nature doth dispose us to a more re∣tired seriousnesse of minde; and surely no delight can be s•• sweet as that towards which Nature sets her help∣ing hand. Secondly, for that use and practice in time d•• tutor up this sympathy of nature into the grateful fa∣cility of an habit; and then if the habit of that which agrees not with nature, be most times so lovingly marri∣ed to the affections, that it can hardly be left; how plea∣sing must that needs be which concur•• with nature! Thirdly, for that this heavenly object is beyond measure unparallel'd fo•• sweetnesse, Sweeter, as David hath it, even then the honey and the honey comb.

The Meditations of God do many times ravish our narrow souls with unspeakable Comfort, and drive us into a extasie of amazement for joy: we shall think sometimes to our selves, What an happinesse is this, that the God of heaven and earth should so familiarly communicate himself to such vile creatures as we; that he should grant us such illumination of minde, such joy of spirit? surely we would not, leave it for the whole

world; and it is better unto us then thousands of gold and silver. Well, Joy and sorrow do take their turns: and there is no perfect happinesse in this life.

We that were mounted up but now, Amongst the Stars to dwell, Anon descend as much below, Even to the gates of hell.

As we are raised up, I may say with Saint Paul, unto this third heaven, this more then thrice happie Condition of Joy; so is there also given us our fatal portion of misery, a thorn in the flesh; a thorn of sin which doth as shrewdly prick us with sorrow, as ever we were tickled with delight; the sowrnesse of Eve's apple will not be put out of our taste: be we never so spiritual, we can∣not but be subject unto sin: I say sin, and I may say sins too; sin, as intimating onely some special ones, in par∣ticular; and sins, as denoting a multiplicity of them in the general: for as for many of us, peradventure we are more indifferently prone and subject unto all kindes and sorts of iniquity: there is almost no sin, no perverse∣nesse and impiety, but that we have a strong taste there∣of in our souls: But most of us, I say most of us in particular, are troubled with some pricking sin, some thorn or other above the rest, some naturally-enclin'd enormity of our inner man; and these, these darling and intimate sins of ours, whatsoever they be, do always, as we may observe, in an eminent manner cry down the rest, do with more violence haunt us, and with more fre∣quency overwhelm us; so that we shall hardly long be free from them. Ordinary and weakly disposed sins may perhaps be swallowed down with ease; but these extraordinary and deep-rooted ones do stick close and fast in the Conscience: our other sins for the most part we may pretty well digest in oblivion; but this sin, this our familiar and bosom-sin, is so hearty a sin, always with so full a desire, and therefore so palpably grosse to our apprehension, that it constantly leaves behinde it a

Memento of shame to our outward man, and the sting of sadnesse to our inner soul. When it is past and gone, we shall finde our Consciences wounded with dismayednesse, and our hearts drooping with grief; such sowre sauce hath this seeming pleasure; such a sting in the tail hath this flattering Serpent; a sting it is which, as I say, without question we are sufficiently sensible of; we can most duely and tenderly feel the hurt it doth us; and yet for all that, when it comes too, it doth so strongly charm and bewitch our reason, that all the power that is in us is presently dissolved, and we are no way able to withstand it: the deceitful bait of pleasure maketh us suddenly to swallow down the Bane, and then, though like that Book in the Revelation, it be sweet in the mouth to commit it, yet is it bitter in the belly, exceeding bitter, even as Wormwood: See Prov. 5. 4. Sin doth us no great harm whilst we look to it in time: though it bring with it a sadnesse and a sting unto our Consciences; yet as long as within three or four days, or a week, we do vent out this sadnesse into tears, with true Compunction, and pull out again this sting by the hand of Repentance, we feel no danger unto our selves. When we are in sin, our understanding is as it were in a cloud, and our affections cold and dull; but the return of Gods favour again, will appear unto us as the Sun dispersing with his brightnesse the clouds of ignorance, and enflaming with his heat the coldnesse of affection: so true finde we that which our Saviour speaks of himself in Saint John: I am the light of the world: he that followeth me, shall not walk in darknesse, but shall have the light of life. In darknesse, that is, the darknesse of sin: but shall have the light of life, that is, that living light which quickens the heart unto goodnesse, and enliveneth the affections. Enliveneth the affections

With cheerful thoughts, with nimble active love; With flames of zeal which never cease to move:

to move upwards, and give their humble attendance up∣on the Almighty.

In the act of Repentance, we shall as it were throw down our selves before God with a filial remorse and melting sorrow for our offence, somtimes casting an eye upon the exceeding vilenesse of our sin, and then weep∣ing, and grieving, and vexing our selves, that we should be creatures so wretched as to commit that, which, though there were no God to obey, not Law to trans∣gresse, yet a man would be ashamed and scorn to do: somtimes casting an eye to consider, not so much what it is in it self, as against whom; and then it is ten times grief, to think that we should so highly offend him that hath always been so good, so loving, and, as I may say so, too much merciful unto us; that we should displease him whose infinite goodnesse is more then that we are able in the least degree to deserve, though we should with all the veins of our hearts continually obey him; counting it a most tender thing to grieve him which hath vouchsafed us to be as dear unto himself as the very ap∣ple of his eye.

We shall, I say, weep, and grieve, and vex our selves: for it is to be noted, that we do seldom finde the true and effectual comfort of Repentance without tears: when the eye can kindly run down with streams of water, then doth our heart begin to feel ease, then doth that burden begin to be light, which before was so heavie; and then will the light of grace begin to shine in upon our souls, and kindle our affections with that zeal of David, Psal. 86. 11. O knit my soul, knit it faster unto thee, that I may fear thy Name. Many times thus in the passion of our souls are we so overjoyed, as it were, at the return of Gods fa∣vour, that we could even suffer our hearts to be pluckt out of our breasts to offer them up in devotion unto him: and therefore now do we lift up our souls with such a servent desire of better obedience, that hence∣forth it seemeth not enough for us to go or walk, but we must run the way of thy Commandments, O Lord, since thou ••ast thus set our hearts at liberty.

To hang down the head like a bulrush, Isai. 58. 8, and to be covered with the sackcloth of dejection for our sins, this verily is not the main; this is but the outside and be∣ginning of Repentance:

It onely doth before prepare the way, Telling some news of the approaching day.

A lively resolution of the heart to redeem the time, this is the soul and reality thereof. Repentance is but dead, without a lively heart: and surely it never doeth us good, till it thus come unto the quick.

Well now, when the Almighty hath thus breathed in∣to our souls this breath of life, then doth our hope revive again in the confidence of pardon, and then also shall we be so sensibly affected with Gods infinite mer∣cies towards us, that these his mercies, like those bands of love, Hos. 11. 4, do tye us far more to his obedience then before; all the faculties of both body & soul do seem too little for us to do him service with, that so in some mea∣sure we may requite his love in forgiving, by our love in obeying; the more God forgives us, the more we do always love him: so that we may justly witnesse the truth of that which our Saviour saith, To whom God hath forgiven much, he will love him much. This love of God doth usually raise in us a holy indignation against sin, to hate, to abhor, and as it were trample it under our feet, ma∣king us zealously to take part with God against our selves, who have thus took part with sin against God; and therefore shall we be ready to enjoyn a kinde of penance to our souls, and to execute in Gods behalf a revenge upon our selves, so that if it were possible, we might give him a due recompence and satisfaction for our offence.

The effect of Repentance is, That we shall feel our consciences satisfied, our hearts at rest, and our selves joyfully at one with God again; and then will our soul make her boast of the Lord, that h•• hath put a new song in∣to our mouthes, even a song of thanksgiving for this great

deliverance, according to that of David; O Lord, thou hast been exceeding gracious unto us wherefore as for our soul, it shall be talking of thy righteousnesse and of thy praise all the day long. We cannot cease, I say,

We cannot cease from morn till night thy goodnesse to set forth: O Lord, 'tis now our whole delight to wonder at thy worth.

Thus a while are we full of praises and thanksgiving unto God. And now then with such a strong and powerful confidence in him, do we go on in our wonted course of divine Meditations, that our thoughts do as it were scorn the earth, being like Elijah in the fiery charet of zeal mounted up to dwell in heaven onely, and in heavenly things: our Phancie will be all for the high and lofty speculations of God, of Christ, of Eternity, of the World to come, &c. The private leasure and holy silence of the minde fro•• outward things, giveth such advantage to the soul to flee upwards, that for the present we are even D••ified with these glorious objects, and are become Saint-like in our thoughts: but when it comes down again to the practick part, for the conversation of ourlives; when these Speculations are to be actuated into a good behaviour; lo, then it proves that there is nothing at all in us of Saints, no not scarce of men, or at leastwise, of very weak and frail men: then all that we can do, is but to desire to keep our selves from sin, or to be unwilling to enter into tem∣ptation; that, that for the most part, is the furthest we do proceed▪ but to withstand, and vanquish, or put off sin, are we seldom able in the le••st degree and there∣fore we may well a••k the question with Saint Paul, Who shall deliver us from this body of fin? since the highest peri∣od of strength tha•• we do here attain unto, is able to do little, even so little, that I may justly say it is but as the shadow of somthing rather then anything and indeed al∣together, as it were, nothing in reality, though somthing

in intention. Well, now being in the state of Repen∣tance, we can carefully take heed of the least sins, di∣recting our conversation in a more elevated and steady course then usual, as conceiving our selves to lie open to the awful view of an Omnipotent and most glorious Deity: as also, we can more duely humble our selves, and pray before him with a fervent, with a lively earnestnesse and confidence of obtaining: For first, the abundant ex∣perience of Gods great love towards us, together with that loving affection which we feel in our hearts towards him again, breeds a kinde of union and friendship be∣twixt God and our souls, and this union begets a trust and confidence in him, and then this confidence doth fully perswade us that we shall prevail with him in any thing, so that it be best for us to obtain it; I say, Best for us, that is, for our good, though not always to our liking: our Prayers, verily 'tis sit they should be confi∣dent; but they may not be obstinate and self-will'd: Nature doth use to take it harsh not to have her desire granted; but David's resolution in Psal. 39, will at length pretty well satisfie her: I became dumb, and open∣ed not my mouth: for it was thy doing: For it was thy doing, that's the reason to stop our mouthes, and hold us con∣tented: And 'tis our Saviours reason and resolution in Matth. 36. 39: Neverthelesse not as I will, but as thou wilt. Gods will, we are sure, is far better then ours, and therefore good reason it is that ours should in all pati∣ence and humility be ruled by his: better it is in his care; for he hath a greater care over us then we can have of our selves; and better in his wisedom and fore∣knowledge; for he knoweth far better what is good for us then we know for our selves.

Our sinful wills do seldom aim aright; Lord give us what is fitting in thy sight.

What thy good will and pleasure is, and we are con∣tented.

Again, as we have such a submissive trust and confi∣dence

of ob••••••ning in Prayer, so are we always more affectionately apprehensive of what we do pray, then in the time of sin; our thoughts can go along and keep turn with the words of our Prayers: at the confessi∣on of sins, shall we feel our selves pressed with the burden of our wretchednesse: at the Petitions of grace, our soul will be athirst after the living God: Oh when shall we be satisfied with the fulnesse of his mercies! at Thanksgiving for his Blessings, our heart doth as it were run over with the abundance of his loving-kind∣nesse: Even so hath thy Mercies embraced us on every side, that who can set forth thy praise, O Lord, or declare the good∣nesse that thou hast done for our souls? Thus, I say, we can now keep our thoughts neerer to the sense in pray∣er then at other times; and yet we shall finde it, at the best time of our Devotion, very difficult to keep our in∣tention close to it any long while, specially in Publike praying: for do what we can, ever and anon our mindes will be sliding away from the matter in hand, and dreaming upon other imaginations; at least, some other thoughts on the sudden do come athwart us, and put us from the sense: so that seldom do we hold our intenti∣on steady upon it thorowout a whole Prayer, unlesse it be very short: For we may here pertinently take notice that sin is so naturally rooted in us and all Mankinde, that 'tis a very hard task (if with due inward silence we observe it in our selves) to keep our secret thoughts within compasse even whilst the eye of Conscience is most watchful: I say,

Even whilst the Star of Jacob shines most bright In us, to purge away the dark of night.

So that it was no marvel David said that the righteous man falleth seven times a day, whenas there is seldom an hour in the day, even in the purest condition of our life (specially if we have any concernment to be con∣versant in outward affairs) I say, scarce an hour wherein extravagant and unlawful imaginations or desires do not

most thrust themselves into the minde▪ which though perhaps indeed the awaking care of Conscience, by Gods help, doth quickly check out again with shame in these or the like motions of dislike, as, Fie, tis not right, God forbid; yet the Corruption of nature hereby shew∣eth it self to be always active in us, though it doth not now prevail as it would.

O Lord God, our best Condition in this world thou knowest is but as a night, in which thougb there be some light shining with∣in us, yet is there much more darknesse; and therefore our expe∣rience methinks doth most fitly and naturally Moralize that expression of thine concerning our Saviour, Numb. 24, where thou hast called him by thy holy Spirit The Star of Jacob, even as it were the day star of heaven arising in our hearts; a star, and that befitting the night; and yet a star which shineth to our Souls and Consciences with a blessed light of joy and comfort; and so, as Saint John with his Baptizing tears of Repen∣tance, prepared the way for our Saviour to be entertained in the souls of men: so, I say, the watery clouds of sorrow for sin pass∣ing away from our re••enting souls, do unvayl our Saviour unto us, that Star and Light of divine grace, that he may shine out again as the joyful Light of our Salvation. And O most mer∣ciful Saviour, thou that art here a Star unto us, a Day-star ap∣pearing before the Sunrising be thou hereafter in heaven the Sun it self, the Sun of Righteousnesse shining in most perfect glo∣ry unto all Eternity.

But to go on: Lo, the sweet Olive branches that this Noab's Dove, Repentant reconciliation, bringeth in unto the soul. It is said, Prov. ••8. 1. That the righteo•••• are as bold as a Lion: Lord, who is there that can say he is righteous before thee, when as the very Angel are unclean in thy sight? much more are we, the very best piece of whose life is as a menstruous cloth, defiled with grosse imperfections: yet see! the neerer we draw on thereunto, the lesse fearful we are: the terriblenesse of thunder which according to the Poet

Is apt with fear to shake the mindes of men,

Jussit & humanas motura-tonitrua mentes,

or the hideous examples of Gods Judgements, and the ••ike; nay, even terrible death it self, which according to the Ancients is naturally 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the most terrible of all terrible things; all these with which we are wont to be affrighted, do not now strike us with so deep a passion of fear, nor go thorow our loyns with such a terrour; and that not at all because of any deadnesse of Conscience, but out of the livelinesse of faith: I say, Because the Lord, as it is in Psal. 27, being our light and our salvation, whom then methinks should we fear? the Lord being the strength of our life, that is, the trust and confi∣dence of our souls, of whom or of what should we be afraid?

Again, the Service of God leads us into that glorious liberty (which as I conceive Saint Paul speaks of) of the sons of God. First, I mean that liberty whereby we feel our Consciences set free from the doting scrupu∣losity of things unnecessary and indifferent, the which perchance at some other times we may be apt to stick upon with perplexity. Secondly, I mean that liberty, we may call it The liberty of Obedience, which as it makes us willingly and freely to obey our betters, cause 'tis for Gods glory, who hath appointed the same, and 'cause 'tis for his glory to do him service in it: so again it makes us so free in Spirit as not to stoop to any igno∣ble or disgraceful servility; that is, with a base and cow∣ardly heart to yeeld our approbation in any unjust & in∣direct course, because our Superiours either like or com∣mand it; to call good evil, or evil good, for any cause whatso∣ever: No, we have a warrant for it methinks in our souls, not to deny the Truth for the fear or love of the great∣est or dearest one in the world: for if we deny the Truth, we deny him that is greater and dearer unto us then any can be besides, even God himself; for God is Truth, saith Saint John: And surely he that is in subjection to father or mother, as our Saviour saith, or even unto any other

Creature, more then unto God, is not worthy of him. Many times this free spirit is apt to degenerate into a firy spirit; so that in stead of a moderate use of the liberty of truth towards Superiours, shall we be ready to fall into a rash and disobedient humour against them. Jo∣ab's dealing with King David, 1 Chron. 21. 3, is a singular example to be followed in this kinde; that is, to be so freely faithful unto our Betters, as not to flatter or back them on in that which is evil; and yet (not using our Liberty as a cloke of Maliciousnesse) so lovingly re∣spectful, as not to contradict their power with an un∣discreet and churlish impatiency. Moreover, this our foresaid unity and reconciliation with God, crowneth our souls with many happie and rare advantages; but specially in this, that it maketh our spirits chearful, merry and full of rejoycing: a good Conscience is as a continual feast, wherein we are satisfied with all good things, as with marrow and fatnesse; and therefore most fitly hath our Saviour named the holy Ghost a Comforter: And be shall give you another Comforter, Joh. 14. 16. A Comforter, and truely so: for how can sadnesse take fast hold in that brest where this heavenly joy and comfort doth a∣bide? Thus for a season do we flourish in the state of reconciliation, flourish like an herb nourished with the dew of heaven, or like the tree, in Davids Psalms, planted by the waters side, the flowing river of Gods mercies. And now

And now perchance that we have spent some days, Or else some weeks in these more sacred ways,

we must begin to take an unwilling farewel of this our happinesse: for by this time, that heart and courage against sin which we have got by Repentance, doth flag, grow lesse and lesse and decay, till we are defiled therewith as before: the drowzie eye by little and lit∣tle falls asleep it knows not how; and were it not for the awaking again, 'twould scarce perceive whether it had slept or no: so, even so, insensibly doth sin creep

on, and so subtilly get within us, that we can never al∣most feel it, till the sting thereof hath awaken our con∣sciences unto Repentance. And then again perceiving the wickednesse of our hearts, and the foul enormity of sin, shall we in the bitternesse of our souls, and de∣testation of our iniquities, humble our selves even be∣lowe the dust of the earth, accounting us not worthy to be the vilest creatures under the cope of heaven, that have been so wickedly perfidious against our Creator; and therefore do we consider and earnestly resolve for the present, if it will please him once more, even this once more to forgive us this our sin; surely methinks all the devils in hell should not prevail to overtake us so again: for this doth always touch us neerest and trouble us most, that we are so faithlesse unto God, and so full of hypocrisie before him, that whereas at our last Repentance we had so syncerely, so heartily and so seriously promised amendment of life, and also with our whole might and main to obey God and please him; neverthelesse, though our promise doth seem to be never so hearty, and with so full a purpose, yet the end and event doth shew that there is hypocrisie in it, even great hypocrisie: for when temptation comes, and sin is at hand, then do we falsheartedly and cow∣ardly, not onely not duly strive against and resist it, but even basely yeeld unto it: So infirm is our best ability, that our Saviour hath wisely taught us to pray to God that he would not try our strength with tem∣ptation; O lead us not into ••emptation. But our weak∣nesse, or rather wickednesse, is yet greater, not onely in so easily suffering temptation to prevail over us, but also in our readinesse to joyn with it and help it for∣wards, hugging the very first motions thereof in our brests: so that we may say of our souls as David did of the wicked man, Psal. 50. 18, Thou no sooner sawest that thief, sin, but thou consentedst with him, and bast been parta∣ker, &c. Nay, many times we do go one degree

farther besides this hugging and hastie embracing of the evil motions of sin proposed unto us: I say, One degree farther, even by seeking after temptation and inviting of outward means to beget sin within us; just as those of whom Isaiah speaks, that draw iniquity with cords of va∣nity, and sin as it were with a cart-rope. Well, notwith∣standing,

Though sin doth thus even dye our souls in grain, Thy mercies, Lord, can purge out all the stain. Before thee we are 'sham'd to shew our face; But all our hope is in thy saving grace.

notwithstanding, I say, the unhappie discouragements of sin, we shall embolden our selves to offer up in this man∣ner our resolution unto the Lord. O merciful Father, if it would please thee to passe by our iniquities, and to forgive us this time, sure now in good earnest we will perform our words; we will certainly keep our promise, and set our selves more syn∣cerely to it then before: hitherto we have promised well, but now will we do well; knowing verily, that it is not the sudden passion of a good desire that is sufficient, but the constant habit of better Obedience: it is not enough to have the shew of godlinesse in our Mouthes and bare Intentions, if we deny the true power and effect thereof in our Lives and Conversations. We will now therefore act out our intendment in the practice of Religion: whatsoever hath been past, we will now certainly be altogether in good ear∣nest; there shall nothing hinder us. Thus, even thus, so eager, so intentive, and so earnest shall we be somtimes, that we desire forgivenesse from God on no other terms, but as he doth finde our amendment afterwards: we will even be dealt withal according to our good beha∣viour; and not onely so, but we shall be ready to im∣precate a revenge of our breach of promise with some due punishment upon our heads, and to expect from God no otherwise to be merciful unto us then as that we do approve our faithfulnesse unto him.

And yet for all this, this utmost resolution that may be, are we at no time as good as our word; I say, At

no time can we thorowly withstand sin; it always over∣matcheth us; 'tis too strong for us to deal with sin, spe∣cia••ly of all the rest, the sin of our nature, our darling and sweet a reeing sin: this therefore exceeding un∣faithfulnesse of ours, in that we do so vehemently pro∣mise that which we do never accordingly perform, doth at length methinks, at every time of our Repentance, bring us so much the further out of credit with God; so that we can hardly see how he should believe or forgive us any more, who have thus often dealt so falsly with him: Neverthelesse sin doth presse us so sore, that we may not sit still in quiet, till we get ease by Repen∣tance.

The Conscience, like a stomack that's displeas'd With meats, doth vomit till she can be eas'd.

In this case we shall be very loth perchance, and al∣together asham'd to come again into the presence of God, as Adam was, in Gen. 3. 10; yet necessity doth prick us forward; because, O Lord, whither shall we go from thy presence to have any comfort in this our misery? to thee there∣fore must we needs come, O thou Preserver of men: Necessity I sav, sets us forward, and at length so often experience bringeth us to consider with our selves, and thus to close our judgement more neer to the matter, that since there must needs be somthing else in it besides the secret hy∣pocrisie of our own hearts, why so many promises should vanish in the air, so many promises which for th•• present we cannot perceive but that they do come most heartily and syncerely from us; Sure, we shall think to our selves, there is some other difficulty in it; sure there is somwhat else hinders that we cannot be as good as our words: and thus considering, after a while we be∣gin to feel out the knot, that indeed it is no marvel why we could not perform that which we did promise, when-as we did promise that which we could not perform, that which of our selves we are no ways able to bring to passe. Now therefore it is easie to see the folly of our

too-violent and vehement earnestnesse in saying we will do this, and we will do that, the which is not in our power to effect: and therefore more duely weighing within our selves that 'tis God alone who worketh both the will and the deed, as Saint Paul speaks, we learn thereby more moderately and soberly to say, O draw us, and w•• will run after thee: Lord, we would be better, we desire to a∣void sin; but help thou our desire. We may also in Saint Pauls words truely say that we labour, labour in our mindes to be rid of sin, and to attain some better condi∣tion of life; and yet it is not we, but the grace of God which is with us: it is our labour, and it is not ours: somthing there is, no question, in us, to set forwards in the busi∣nesse; and yet this something, without God, we do suf∣ficiently finde to be even as nothing: we may (as in∣deed we must) be doing, and so we our endeavours; but let us know and be assured, that there can be no harvest except God prosper it; for it shall be like the Corn growing upon the house top, wherewith the Mower fill∣eth not his hand, neither he that bindeth up the sheaves his bosom. Many times do we observe in the passage of our life, that when we most strive, and are most eager∣ly set to resist sin, we shall usually never a jot the lesse, but rather the more, be foil'd with sin. First, the cause thereof (as I judge) is our impaciency; for we may feel in our selves, if we mark it, that herein we are not so patiently contented as we should be to tarry the Lords leasure, but would make too much haste to be freed, be∣fore it is Gods will we should. Saint Paul himself would fain be delivered, but it was answered him, My grace is sufficient for thee. Again, another cause may be, for that perchance we do attribute too much to our own strength for the deliverance; and therefore God will let us see how weak we are of our selves to do any thing as of our selves. Behold,

Our sinnes take being with us in the wombe, they live with us from Cradle to the Tomb; so weake are wee & frayle, to encounter with sinne, the common Ene∣my of Man-kind, specially this bosome Enemy, our na∣turall sinne and corruption; that it is well if through continuance ef many yeers together, we can make these Ague fits to breake their course, It is to be noted, that every one hath his double Genius, his good and evill Angell to attend upon him: the good Angell, I meane his naturall inclination to some vertue more then ordi∣nary; the evill Angell, his naturall inclination to some vice above the rest: if wee doe keepe out this evill Angell, this Devill of ours, this Satan, and Deceiver, at armes end; that is, not suffer the temptation to enter in too neerly unto us, we may perchance now and then escape the foyle: But when once he gets within us, sure wee are then to bee overcome; there is no grapling with it in our owne breasts And oh how often, and of∣ten, are wee thus shamefully foyled, and overcome▪ sometimes do wee thinke to our selves, Lord shall we ne∣ver be free from this pollution of sinne? Wee doe hope this shall be the last time, now wee hope wee shall doe so no more: but yet still there is no Last, there is no end with it; the comfort that wee have is this, that as wee doe often sinne, so it is no long while that wee continue in it without repentance: and so then, as David saith, Though heavinesse may endure for a night, the night of sinne, yet Ioy commeth againe in the morning, the morning of re∣pentance: Ioy, and that a double Ioy; Ioy, by Recon∣ciliation with God, and Regeneration unto Righte∣ou••nesse; and Ioy by spirituall comfort in divine Meditations: for the pleasing exercise of these Medita∣tions, like a sweet Companion in our heavenly Iourney, is seldome long absent from our soules, being full of amiable delight and recreation, refreshing the heart with pleasure, and sugaring the affections; so that ma∣ny

times the familiar conversation which wee have with Heaven, and that Angelicall illumination of mind which is within us, doth make our ravisht soules, not∣withstanding all other difficulties, say unto themselves, as Iacoh did at the newes of Iosephs life and prosperity, It is enough: wee are full, and so fully satisfied with this heavenly Manna, even this very food of Angels, that here doe wee sit downe, and feed our selves, perhaps some houres at a time on this Celestiall sweetnesse.

Our silent thoughts now take their holy scem, To walke about the new Ierusalem: And marke ••ow there each precious stone doth vy Which may give brightest lustre to the eye.

How doe wee desire to rest and dwell continually in this Paradise of contemplation; even as Saint Peter did when hee saw how fine it was to be in the Mount, and said, Lord let us make three Tabernacles, and dwell here: to dwell here, it were good indeed, but that verily may not be, there is no dwelling in Heaven whilst wee are in the flesh, no looking for a continuall joy, sweetnesse and content in this vale of misery; and therefore since that thorow the whole scope of this life wee are ordained rather to a religious travaile and labour, then to quiet and ease; doubtlesse the resting our selves so over-much in this satiety of Ioy, doth us more harme then good, in that it makes us the more to forget to take the paines to goe to an other Heaven hereafter, who are thus as it were in a present Heaven here already; the satisfying fruition of Contemplation, doth call away our thoughts from the necessary care of Mortification, flattering ma∣ny times the due sense of sinne, and giving us, as I may say, a kind of Liberty and Priviledge to doe amisse. For we shall thereby thus think to our selve, when we are so often and so much over taken with sinne; there is a fa∣tall necessity of sinning in all men; and therefore not∣withstanding

that how many, and whatsoever our sinnes be, wee make no doubt but it is well enough with us, and that wee must needs be sufficiently in the favour of God, to whom he doth afford such divine familiarity, and such heavenly Comforts; the which perswasion of our selves, although it may be true in some sense; true I meane, that these inward gifts of mind are generally a token of Gods favour; yet surely thus, I say, doth the sweetnesse and selfe-conceit thereof make us often times the more slacke, not so diligently to seeke to mor∣tifie our corrupt affections, not so seriously thinking how this illumination of mind, this Tree of Knowledge may bring forth the fruit of good workes; how to be∣come humble, to become patient, to become chaste, to become temperate, &c.

Iames and Iohn were busying their minds about who should be on the right hand, and who on the left of Christ in his Kingdome: but our Saviour cals them neerer home to the matter in hand; to thinke rather on suffering with him, and that present Condition of diffi∣culty which they must undergoe, well knowing that the gazing too much on that easie and sweet part of reli∣gion might make them to omit the weightier, and more materiall part which is to beare the Crosse, and drink of his Cup.

Well, as experience of spirituall understanding grows on, so our phansie will be apt to abide more constant in our meditations upon anything, and be more aboun∣dantly fruitfull with variety of considerations, specially if other affairs give us Liberty to spend our time freely upon it; our Melancholly thoughts perhaps for some moneths together will be mainly employed and taken up; sometimes with the notions of this subject, some∣times of that; fot a while it may be, wee shall be alto∣gether to contemplate of Death and Mortality, our phansie will hang only on Graves, on Sculs, on Passing∣bels, sadly weighing how truly it is said of David, that

man is a thing of nought, his time passeth away like a shadow, and that of Iob in his seventh Chapter, My dayes are swifter then a Weavers shuttle, and are spent without hope. O remember that my life is wind, mine eye shall no more see good, the eye of him that hath seene mee shall see me no more, &c. ringing, ringing out the Knell of death to our soules, in this or the like manner. O thou devouted soule,

Amidst the pleasures, joyes, triumphs, And hopes now in this life begun, Thinke every morning that ere night, Thy Sun may set, thy life be done. Amidst the cares, the dolefull griefs And feares that on this life attend; Thinke every morning that ere night, Thy Sun may set, thy li••e may end.

Another while perchance we shal take pleasure in guild∣ing over our thoughts, with the glorious lustre of the world to come, the beatificall vision, the beauty of the Saints; according to that of Daniel, They that be wise, shall shine as the Firmament, and they that turne many to righteousnes, as the stars for ever and ever. Sometimes our seriousnesse is very much affected with Bels; the Melancholy rising and falling of the sound doth methinkes lively imprint into our fancie the Emblem of mans inconstancie, and the fading succession of the times, and ages of this world, she wing that which S. Iohn speaks in the 1. Epistle, the second Chapter, How the world passeth away, and the lustt thereof; but hee that doth the will of God abideth for e∣ver; the warbling out of tunes in our mind, the hearing or modul••ting of melodious songs which have been an∣cient, will revive unto our phansie the times, and things that are past, making us exceeding sad and dumpish at the remembrance of them and ready sometimes to let fall teares; because that golden Flower of time, that spring-tide of delight is so soon past and gone; three is

an end with it; and alas woe is us; it shall never, O never returne again.

Farewell, adieu ye pleasant youthfull houres, Which did our life so sweetly crowne with flowers.

Many times againe doth the consideration of Eterni∣ty, and that endlesse stat•• of the soule after this life, drive these or the like Meditat••ons intentively to our hearts; O Lord how much doth it concerne us with most exact care, to take heed how we order our selves whilst wee live here; when as according to our living in this world our soules must needs enter into such an endlesse, and unalterable a condition, the very beholding of which, though but a farre off, doth make all our sense as it were gidy and amaz'd at the exceed∣ing height, depth, and extent thereof. The sight of a dead mau, if peradventure anatomized, and cut up before us, or else but shrowded lying prostrate, or the like, doth usually worke so reall an efficacie in our thoughts, that it deeply casteth us into a loathing abase∣ment, and vile esteeme of our selves; it may be for a good while after confidering thus, that notwithstand∣ing Man doth carry such estate with him, is so sumptu∣ously adorned, and so full of magnificent shew in this life, yet is hee in substance but a peece of carrion, even so contemptible a thing, that he would disdain being a∣live to but touch himselfe if he were dead. O man, how canst thou be proud, that art nothing but a bag of dung, a sinke of filth and corruption: me thinks the very meanest creatures are more happy then we; for loe O Lord they continue perfect in that state thou hast created them; they live not in sinne against their Maker, they die in in∣nocencie; but man alas, unhappy man liveth in sinne, dieth in trouble: O finne thou art the worst of all evils; thou art worst then death, worse then Hell, sure better were it to have no being at all, then that our being should be offensive to that God, which hath bestowed it on us.

In the time of plague and infectious sicknesse in lik•• manner doe our Meditations more consideratively en∣large themselves; how are our thoughts then not a little swollen up with sadnesse and griefe, at the tender ap∣prehension of the solitary, and forsaken estate of those poore soules, who are imprisoned, and shut up in the infected houses; thinking thus with our selves, O Lord how happy are wee on whom the Sun shines thus merrily: the Sunne of Gods favour; wee have health, wee have Liberty, wee have Plenty of all things at our hearts desire: but they poore wretches are inclosed within the shadow of death; their feet like good Io∣sep••s are in the stocks, and the Iron thereof entreth into their soules; the hardnesse of misery maketh their very hearts to bleed; for (as Iob saith) Tbe arrowes of the Almighty are within them; and the poyson thereof drinketh up their spirits: O how can wee forget to have compassion on such misery as this!

The se••ious deepnesse of our mind doth also thus fre∣quently close up in our Meditations, the departing day: and Lord thou hast added one day more unto this our life, which thou mightst long ere this have shortned, and cut off; Lord prepare us for our end; and make us willinger to die then yet wee are; that when as wee shall have brought all our dayes to a period, as we have now this day, wee may be ready and well content, to depart out of this world to thine eternall mercy; and that wee be patiently resolved, that this face, these hands, and this whole body of ours, after a while it may put on corruption, be clothed with blacknesse and deformity: and so with the fatall necessity of all Man∣kind, naturally to be composed into Mortality, and be gathered to our Fathers to rest with them in the dust, untill thine appointed time.

Vntill that shrill awaking Trumpet sound, At the last day to raise us from the ground.

The Melancholly Man is a man full of thoughts, his phansie is as it were alwayes in a constant Motion: no sooner doe wee discharge our braines of these diviner thoughts and meditations; specially our mind being at leisure from worldly things; but forth with it is in action, either with some idle, or ill employment; ei∣ther wee are building of Castles in the ayre, or framing of Vtopiaes, and the Idea's of one thing, and of ano∣ther, of Monarchies of Paradises, and such like plea∣sing dreams of phansie; or else wee are on the other∣side snarling our thoughts with the toyls of sinne.

Each sense of ours to the heart, Proves Traytor to let in, Temptation with his fatall dart, The Harbinger of sinne.

How often thus doe; the allurmeents of pleasure in∣volve our minds in a restlesse unquietnesse, untill wee give satisfaction thereunto? how often doth the pro∣vocations of lust follow our thoughts, till wee commit Adultery with the Baby of our owne fancie? how often again doth impatiency haunt us till wee are engaged in wrath and distemper? how often doth the love of Riches torment us into the consent of injustice?

This is the difference wee may find in our soules, be∣twixt good and evill; when wee are affected with good things wee are ready, as I say, to poure out our braines into an abundance of Consideration thereupon: but when as wee goe to make use thereof in the practise of our lives, such difficulties and impossibilities doe stand in the way, that it is even against our stomack then to t••inke upon it: when contrariwise wee are affected with evill things: it may be wee are not ready to spend so many thoughts upon them: but wee may easily ob∣serve our pronenesse to imprint them in our actions. For good; wee are as the fruitlesse Fig-tree, all whose sap

is but enough to bear leaves, none for fruit; so that in manner all our goodnesse goes out into thoughts, medi∣tations and desires, little or none at all into practise and performance; but for evill, wee are more fruit then leaves, the practick part of our soules doth here out-goe the speculative.

Facilis descensus av A••rni.

Nature hath made it easie for us to goe downwards in the paths of death and destruction; and yet notwith∣standing by Gods mercy sin doth not over-come us to fulfill it in the lusts and full swing thereof; we are not at ease and rest with it, it doth discontent and trouble us; there is no perfect quietnesse in our soules whilst it prevailes within us; although sometimes for want of carefull diligence it taketh such advantage of us, that tis long and difficult ere wee can wind our selves out of the snare therof. I say long and difficult ere we can through∣ly untie those knots of perversenesse, and impiety, which Sathan when hee gets time and liberty, doth cunningly contrive within us: Here we may note the wisely-con∣firm'd maturity of years and better acquaintance wi••h the nature of things, as it doth helpe forward our con∣tinuance in grace, in that it becomes longer (being made cleane by repentance) ere we shall now fall backe into sinne. I meane into more grosse and frequent sinnes, so likewise it advantageth our continuance in sinne, in that it becomes the longer also (being in the state of wrath) ere wee can be duly reconciled againe by true repentance; and the reason hereof without que∣stion is chiefly to bee conceived, for that ripenesse of age makes nature more solid, stiffe and unmoveably set in its course, being the right subject of constant serious∣nesse and Melancholy; as on the other-side, youth is vainely wavering, and according to the Poet,

Cereu•• in vitium slecti, &c.

Like wax that's quickly wrought to any shape, And pliable to any alteration.

Againe touching the settlednesse of our courses in this spi••ituall condition of the soule, it is alwayes to be ob∣served, that the more unhappily finne doth prevaile over us, and the longer it doth continue with us, the more we are disheartned, and loth to repent; by reason that dif∣ficulty and bad successe doth daunt the courage, and de∣ter from that, which easinesse and happy proceeding doe make to delight in; thus likewise in other things it is usually seene, that hee who thrives delights to be a good Husband; prosperity backs on the endeavour, and sweetnes a mans labour. In like manner also, when we have good successe in Religion, it makes us the more religious; the be ter wee thrive in it, the more wee are in love with it; that which wee have already quickens the appetite, and whets on the affection with a greater longing, having truly tasted how good it is: we can with David say, Oh how sweet are thy words unto our taste; yea, sweeter then honey unto our mouth: our soule can then hand∣somly reilish all holy duties, and religious exercises, and wee doe delight in the performance thereof; as in parti∣cular, the frequenting the Church, the hearing of Ser∣mons; the holy Law and Testimonies of the Lord doe not now seeme a burden but as a pleasure unto us.

O Lord me thinkes thy words to us doe shine, A sweet direction in the paths divine.

In receiving the word, we can suck out a secret sweet∣nesse, and comfortable benefit there from, it be∣comes nourishable unto us, the Rod of Gods justice, and the staffe of his mercies bound up together in his booke, doe pleasantly lead forth our soules, be∣sides the waters of Comfort; but specially is our

Melancholy soule most in imately affected with such Scripture, which presseth home the due understanding of our momentany and mortall Condition, and with funerall exercises, which more lively set forth the same, Salomon, saith, It is better to goe into the house of mourning, &c. and he gives the cause, for that is the end of all men, and the living will lay it to his heart; wee shall I say bee thus alwayes apt on such occasions to fix the sad consideration of death most neerly to us; and sure mee thinkes there can be no thoughts that doe concerne us more then those of our end of our last day; neither can wee bestow any of the time of our life better, or to more purpose, then in the digging of our Graves; I meane the providing for our end; for though perhaps wee may live a great deale longer; yet verely wee are no men of this world; thy grace O Lord hath so re∣moved our affections from these transitory things; that with Saint Paul, Wee are daily dying in our thoughts, and de∣siring rather to be dissolved, and to be with Christ, then to live here; not waiting, expecting, and looking for a long con∣tinuance upon earth, but farre more for a happy depar∣ture.

Life's not our joy, at death's our chiefest ayme, By life wee lose, by death wee hope to gaine.

Also in this prosperity of Religion doe wee alwayes apprehend a more gratious satisfaction in our prayers, & supplications; the spirit of devotion so filleth and fat∣teth our soule with goodnesse, that wee are wont abun∣dantly to rejoyce therein above all other things; stri∣ving to lift up our soules often in private devotion; in so much, that if leisure serve, wee shall be ready to offer up the incense of our zeale unto God, in admiring his mercy, setting forth our unworthinesse, desiring farther his grace and heavenly benediction, to grow stronger and stronger in his feare and love; and the like requests and Petitions often times, even often times peradven∣ture

in a day, not only in short ejaculations, but even in pretty la••ge formes of expression; for no sooner doe wee feele the sacred fire of Devotion flaming upwards, and aspiring unto heaven; but presently wee seriously betake our thoughts to prayer and thanksgiving; by the way it may be here considerable, whether for our con∣stant devotion in private, as morning and evening, and the like; many short ejaculations are more fit to carry up our affections unto God; or otherwise some one long and large continued forme, the former way through its often cuttings off being in dangsr to make us dege∣nerate into alazie and forgetfull seldomnesse of praying, the latter thorough its tedious continuance into an un∣advised dulnesse in praying: and therefore not much approving of either, betweene both of these, two or three moderate formes, with an acute and strong win∣ged brevity, are me thinkes more convenient to present our cause before the Almighty in an unvariable con∣stancy, and in a piously devout apprehension; but to keepe on our way: Now againe in like manner are we most divinely studious and diligent; to make the full benefit and advantage of that time, which is properly set apart for Gods service, labouring to build up others, and to be built up strong in our selves; as by hearing, exhorting, and discoursing with truly pious and religi∣ous men, rejoycing in this comfortable Communion of Saints; I meane the communicating acquaintance, and assisting fellowship of our inner man, one with ano∣ther; or else againe perhaps more privately managing our soules by reading; as in the Bible, Practise of Piety, Gerrards Meditations, or the like; by Meditating Con∣sulting, and walking with the Almighty in spirituall thoughts▪ ending the Sabbath dayes usually in such high and serious actions; occupying our selves in that only which may tend either to improve Knowledge, try Faith, exercise Charity, examine Conscience, and the like, communing thus, as David hath it, secretly in our

owne hearts, in our Chambers, and being still quiet from outward perturbations, thereby effectually to entertaine these heavenly Guests: And therefore duly apprehending this Celestiall happinesse of the mind, shal we use to long for the Sab∣bath before it come, preferring it in esteeme above all the other dayes of the week, and calling it, as in the 58. of Isaiah, the thirteenth verse, A delight unto us, the Holy of the Lord, &c. accounting the holy rest of this Sabbath here to be a lively Emblem, and as it were a taste of that glorious rest in the eternall Sabath hereaf∣ter.

The due frequenting, and solemne use of four a clock prayers on Saturdayes afternoone, is me thinkes a wor∣thy sweet, and seasonable exercise, as being an excel∣lent preparation against the Sunday, to lay aside the thoughts, the cares and busines of our Calling; and truly were it generally more observed, and taken notice of, no doubt Religion might fare far the better for it, but sure.

The Root of evill is the love of Gold, And that is it Religion is so cold, Because we cannot spare the time from gaine, For Heaven therefore we take but little paine.

To goe on as this irradiating beam of divine grace, doth cloath our minds with a light and delight in spiri∣tuall things; whereby not only our thoughts ate set a worke on purer objects, but also our outward behaviour and conversation is ready to do its part too in Religion, our tongues not vaine or offensive, but ayming their words for the most part to pious and good discourses, aptly applying ordinary things in our talke to some god∣ly use, or religious observation; our feet not swift to go after folly; nor our hand dealing with deceit; I say as this illuminative beame of divine Grace doth enlighten our thoughts, making us full of high and heavenly wise∣dome

in all our wayes; so in like manner it warmeth our affection towards others; melting the bowels of our compassion into a more then superficiall charitableness, and loving mindednesse unto all men, whereby with tendernesse we alwayes construe their lives and actions in the better sense, and doe sincerely wish, pray for, and desire even the salvation of every one; but specially zealous of the good of our friends, as of our own; and therefore are we almost ready with David, many times to cry out, O Absalom my Sonne, my Sonne, my Father, my Child, my Wife, my Brother, my Friend, poore soule, would to God I had dyed for thee: and as sorrowing, so againe re∣joycing for no other prosperity so much as for their souls happinesse; and that too, not so much for any pri∣vate relation betwixt them and us, as for that we know it is most, ••cceptable unto God, because we doe now ve∣rily make an higher account of Gods glory, then of our own good; and therefore do we as it were bear on our shoulders the care of Gods people, heartily praying that all as well as our selves may thus taste and see how gracious the Lord is, how full of mercy and compassi∣on; so true, find we that of Saint Iohn, in 1. Epistle, the 4. Chapter, That he who loveth God, must love his neighbour also.

This is the Touch-stone to a sacred soule, Whereby the truth of her Religion's knowne; If that her neighbours griefe she can condole, With as due sense as if it were her owne.

Bonum est sui diffusivum, Tis the nature of true good∣nesse to be willing to have others participate of it; sure then he is not really good in himselfe, who is nigardly streightned in his bowels of affection towards others; but hee who hath perfectly received within him∣selfe that good which commeth downe from the Father, and Fountaine of all Goodnesse, cannot

but be so full in himselfe, in his owne heart, that hee must needs run over with a liberall good will and affe∣ction of good unto others. His Liberality of affe∣ction unto others, doth also reach ir selfe forth into a godly patience, in bearing the injuries & wrongs of men, we can be reasonable well content, to put up these suffe∣rings, which the malice of our fellow creatures doth inflict, because wee know them to be sent to us by Gods appointment, and wee have so much trust and confidence in his love towards us; that wee cannot thinke, he will suffer any thing to light on us for our hurt, with whom wee are so dearely joyned in our in∣ner men; beleeving that as he hath sent affliction for our advantage, so he will not suffer us to be tempted a∣bove what wee shall thorough his mercy be able to un∣dergoe; that he wil be sure to have that care of us, as to take it away againe in due season, when it shall be most convenient for us. And here O Lord considering thy diligent care over us, in all the dangers and chances of this life, wee cannot but truly say, O what is man, what is man that thou art thus mindfull of him, or the Sonne of man that thou visitest him with such abundant of loving kindnesse? one would thinke with the Poet, that

Non vacat exiguis rebus adesse Iovi.

That then O Lord who art so farre above the earth, so farre surpassing, that innumerable number of stars in the Heaven; the least of which is much bigger then many worlds; nay, so farre surpassing those Heavens of stars, and many millions of Heavens; besides even far∣ther then all the capacities of mankind are able any wayes to conceive or imagine; one would think I say in humane reason, that thou that art so exceeding and infinitly great and glorious, should not be at leisure so much as to thinke on such poor atomes, such con∣temptible nothings as we are; much lesse to take no∣tice of us with such affection of love. O Lord the great∣nesse of thy love is not to be imagined.

We may take notice in our soules experience, that the prosperous successe of religion, and the long uninter∣rupted continuance of grace within us; as it maketh us bold with God thorough his mercies; so it maketh us also humble; bold I say, not proud; although nature bee very frequently apt and endeavouring in us to take too much upon her, and to mistake Gods gifts and graces for her own proper powers faculties & endowments; as bold, so I say again, it maketh us humble in our own selvs and weaknesse; such is the amiable brightnesse of the divine Essence, that the more wee apprehend the infi∣nitenesse, and purity thereof, the more wee seem in our selves to admire, to want and to thrist after it, and even with unsatiable love to desire perfection for this neerer apprehension of the Almighty, who giveth us light more clearely to see the grosnesse, and obliquity of our own imperfections, whereby with humility we loath and ab∣horre what we are of our selves, so that our least sins in the time of grace seeme greater then our greatest in the time of sinne. And therefore doe wee now use at such time with a more then ordinary love and admira∣tion, to value Gods blessings at a higher rate, our thoughts being full of thankfulnesse for that plenty of goodnesse, which at other times perhaps wee can scarce thinke on. O Lord if wee consider it, thy mercies, thy sweet mercies are renewed unto us, not only every morning, but every moment; what minute is there that we are not greatly beholding unto thee, O Lord.

In that wee live, in that wee draw our hreath, In that wee are not in eternall death, Tis all thy mercies, as liberty, and wealth. Our food, our rayment, and our saving health.

Thus farre the prosperous gale of Gods favour doth carry us pleasantly on in the course of Religion; but when the storme ariseth, wee are presently overwhel∣med

with the boysterous Waves of wrath, of lust, of distrustfull feare, of impatiency, and the like; so that we were never formerly so blessedly refreshed with that heavenly calme, as we are now againe miserably trou∣bled, and tossed with this unhappy tempest; there is no constancy to be lookt for in this life▪ but specially is our unhappy nature most unconstant to persist in these more divine, and sin-forsaking courses; it may be we may with sufficient deliberation vow, resolve and goe on a while, to use such and such means, and helps as per∣chance Fasting, Watching, or the like, for the preven∣tion of our frequent fals, and to keepe on in a lesse floa∣ting, and uncertaine manner in our way to Heaven: but alas, usually either these courses are quickly left of againe, or else they be so dull and lazily performed, that the continuance of them is to little purpose, so that three or foure moneths at a time is a great while for us to be free men, lively and at our owne disposall •• the service of God; and then doubtlesse after our old course must we returne with shame, like fooles unto the stocks; or as saith the Apostle Like the dog unto hi•• vomit, and the Sow unto her wallowing in the mire; but now the wonted use and long acquainted experience of sin∣ning in time doth dull the sense of conscience; making sinne not to be so strange, and fearful a thing unto •••• as in former times in the minority of our dayes; O youth, thou thou I say, art the prime and golden age for Religion, thou art that lovely one, whom the Lord de∣lighteth in, even fairer then the tents of Kedar, or the Curtains of Salomon. To goe on, heretofore the terrour thereof (I meane of grosser sinnes) would stat¦tle us like a Bug beare, and make our soules quickly ten∣der, and sore with the sence of griefe; but at length∣in continued use, what through the subtilty of Sa∣than, and our accustomed familiarity with sinne, we are for the most part nothing at all so deeply affected with it, we have been now so long habituated thereunto, that

wee can easily sit downe and sleepe in it, I say sleep and perchance fall into a dead sleepe to, unlesse wee take great heed of the danger.

Vnlesse with good and well advised care, In its due time wee can thereof beware.

For wee shall find, that unlesse we doe forthwith in short time after the sinne, that grosse and conscience-da∣ring sinne that we commit, take advantage of the sad∣nesse which it leaves in our soules, to convert it into re∣pentant griefe, and that it worke a setled and serious dejection in us, it is seldome that we shall so soone, or so conveniently meet againe with the like helpefull means to lift our selves out of this pit of destruction. When as the cloud of sinne settles for a while upon our souls; and that wee walke as it were blind fold in the darkenesse thereof; it is observeable, that yet notwithstanding wee may peradventure in that meane space now and then by the by a little drowsily shug up our selves with a lazie kind of ill will against our sinfull wretchednesse, and with a dreaming detestation, and abhorring of our unrighteousnesse; but all that doth us little good in the end, if our repentance be not thoroughly and lively performed, if wee doe not even with violence breake off the bonds of iniquity, and cast away her cords from us, it never doth discharge our consciences, or ease us perfectly of the guilt of sinne.

The Occasionall meanes which are wont to bring us to a truly deepe and serious repentance are divers; many times that sense of sadnesse, which as I say, sinne, greater sinnes, leaves behind in the soule immediately after the committing, is a speciall and effectuall helpe to worke our delivery from the danger thereof. Sometimes also this thing or accident puts it in us sometimes that, as the

trerible fiercenesse of Thunde••, Lightning, Tempests, and the like fearefull dangers will perchance strike this seri∣ous consideration to our hearts, Lord what a case are we in, if we should be presently snatcht away with this sudden judgement, being now in our sinnes? and there∣fore if it will please God to spare us this time, sure wee will thoroughly repent, and stand in no such hazard hence forward. Sometimes the apprehension of Morta∣lity, and the shortnesse of our life will bring us to thinke with our selves that oh how shall we put off our reconciliation with God any longer; for wee see that we be all as at the point of death, every day, one or other is departing from us to his everlasting Mansion: we know with the Apostle, that the end of all things is at hand, that there is no abiding for us here; and there∣fore what manner of men ought we to be, how diligent and carefull to make our peace with God, and prevent the worst whilst wee are sure of time? Sometimes a∣gaine the afflictions of this world, and the consideration of the vaine pursuit of all earthly things, with the which men doe so generally rejoyce and triumph; as when we see the rich man swelling in his credit, the swaggering Gallant shining in his clothes, the honoura∣ble man deifying himselfe in his state;

When that wee see men foolishly bestow Their whole affections on these things below.

This I say doth call home our thoughts to make up our accounts, and hope for Heaven, for that we see there is nothing but toylesome and deceitfull vanity up∣on earth. Sometimes also our preparation for the Lords Supper, when wee undertake the punctuall and due ex∣amining of our selves for that holy duty, doth cause us so to dig out our consciences into a bleeding sorrow,

that wee can rightly performe thar cheerfull resolution of the mind which is requisite to an hearty renewning repentance, & amendment of life. O Repentance, Repen∣tance (under Christ Iesus) thou only Saviour of Mankind, who can value thy worth? thou art to the soul of man above all the gold and precious stones in the world; as rich as Heaven it selfe; how many noble and great men have desired to see thy face, and could not see it? and yet behold thou dost use to dwell in the lowest dust, e∣ven with the humble, broken and contrite heart. And againe, thou soule that enjoyest this most rich and happy treasure: O for Gods sake, I say for Gods sake, sleight it not; but hugge it, joyfully embrace it, and keepe it close unto thee, it is the richest Iewell that can com•• from Heaven.

It is that Crowne that Saints hereafter weare, When they in perfect glory shall appeare.

The opinion it is perhaps of some men, that for those sins which we have heretofore truly repented us of, we need not at any time account our selvs guilty afterwards, because the score is discharged, and as it were struck off in the sight of God: a judgement doubtlesse not without its reason, and yet me thinks not altogether consentane∣ous to experience; for though in repentance, it may be we doe not usually charge our thoughts with so parti∣cular and fresh a remembrance of our ancient sinnes, as of these which we have committed since our last hu∣miliation; yet shall we ever hold our selves to stand guilty, and in danger of all our sinnes, even those ve∣ry sinnes which we had particularly repented of before, because we doe take our selves to be in such termes with God, that though hedoth fully pardon us, yet is it alwayes on condition that wec should performe that Covenant which wee make with him of better obedi∣ence; and then the breach of this Coveant, upon con∣dition of the performance whereof (as we conceive) we are forgiven, doth render us lyable again to Gods justice

for all our sinnes; I say the Covenant which we make with him of better obedience. For it is sure and cer∣taine, that we doe never truly repent, but that we doe make or renew this Covenant with God to obey him better afterwards. Without question a Christans li••e is nothing but a continuall rising and falling, a falling by sinne, a rising by repentance.

Our life's a race, wherein the surest feet In running long with many fals doe meet.

And though some men carry themselves in such a stea∣dy constant course that they never fall much; yet many men fall more shrewdly at sometimes of their age then at some; and most men without question at one time or other fall dangerously, and without Gods speciall grace irrecoverably; As there is a time when David rejoyceth, saying, surely goodnesse and mercy shall follow mee all the dayes of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever; So there is also another time when hee saith, there is no health in my flesh, because of thy displeasure, neither is there any rest in my bones, by rea∣son of my sinne: my wounds stinke, and are corrupt through my foolishnesse, &c. Sinne maketh such deepe wounds in the soule, that if wee foolishly negl••ct to dresse them often, and tent them thoroughly, they quickly fester inwardly, and prove dangerous; and there∣fore justly eonsidering this dangerousnesse in the state of the soule to be usuall amongst men, and specially in Da∣vid, that holy man, that more then ordinary man, even that man made aftet Gods owne heart; as also remem∣bring the solicitous heed and care of that more excel∣lent vessel of holinesse S. Paul over himselfe, in the words of his in the ninth to the Corinthians, the 27. verse, Lest that by any meanes when I bave preached unto others, I my selfe should be a Cast-away; it makes us alwayes, methinkes nor without cause to stand in feare of our spirituall con∣dition:

not daring in our best comforts so to set our selves at rest, as though wee were wholly out of the reach of unhappinesse; the often tryall of our patience, our wisely considered experience in heavenly things, to∣gether with the comfort of the Scripture, according to Saint Paul in his fifth and fifteenth Chapters to the Ro∣manes, May give us a strong and confident hope, that wee shall not enter into condemnation, but thorough his mercy be saved in the day of the Lord; for wee are boldly perswaded that we are in Gods favour; and perswaded too, I say perswaded, that nei∣ther life nor death, nor Angels, nor any other creature, shall bee able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ our Lord; and yet for all that, wee know wee are now but on the sea, not in the Haven; the sea of danger, not the Haven of perfect safety; we cannot therefore be high minded in our thoughts, but feare, feare and carefully take heed, lest we fall; specially when as we are consci∣ous to our selves of a nature which is so weake, so apt, and ready to fall into the greatest, and most dangerous sinnes. O Lord and most mercifull Father, there is no∣thing perfect in this life: here wee have some joy, and some sorrow, some assurance, some feare, some know∣ledge, some ignorance mingled together; for now wee know but not in part, saith the Apostle, hereafter wee shall know to the full now our soule is only perswaded of her future state; she taketh some remote glimpse as it were of her salvation, but no full sight thereof: for wee are saved by hope (saith Saint Paul) but hope that is seene is not hope; for what a man seeth, why doth hee yet hope for hereafter? when she hath finisht her course, and fulfilled her dayes shee shall fully know and be re∣solved in the matter; & as we hope to be thoroughly sa∣tisfied with the everlasting enjoyment & therfore for the present condition of this our life, we may take up that expression of the Poet,

Ante obitum nemo supremaque funcra faelix.

None be call'd happy rightly may, Before his last and dying day.

Ye pious and devout soules that are now in the state of grace, blesse, O blesse the Lord your God and magnifie his name with all humility; for what is it that all of us are not damnable wretches, and most unhappy miscreants, but only his mercy? What have wee at all that we have not received? O let us then take heed, take heed I say lest our hearts bee hardned with stubbornesse and selfe opinion; hath not the Potter power over his Clay? may not the spiritu∣all Husbandman breake off the Olive branches, and graft them in at his pleasure? O the depth of the ri∣ches, both of the wisedome and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are all his judgements! and his wayes past finding out, for who hath knowne the mind of the Lord? or who hath beene his Counsellor? And thus have we briefly dispatcht, the first and better part of our busines; I meane this History of the soule endued with grace.

Now then our thoughts must leave their Eagle slight, And downe a while top ••ddle in the durt, Behold and see what policy and might, The Devill can shew forth to doe us hurt.

When God lets loose this roaring Lyon, O what destruction doth hee bring upon us; how strongly and cunningly doth he hold fast our soules in sinne? how intricately are we intangled by his snares, that we cannot get out? the heart (saith Ieremy) is deceitfull a∣bove all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? indeed it is a most hard matter to find out all the strength and subtilty of sinne in a wicked soule; for the

Devil when he gets possession specially in a more Melan∣choly heart; like a Wont, makes his workes few above ground; but hath many secret passages and Maeanders under: the close contrived cranies whereof, although we cannot fully search and tracke out; yet God wil∣ling wee shall the more open and principall courses, in this ensuing Part.

Of the Soule ensnared in sinne.

NEmo repente fuit turpissimus; Sinne creeps on by de∣grees; but woe is us to what an exceeding height, and to what intolerable an increase is it able to grow? grow I say, heavier then the sand of the Sea in weight, and more in number; even sufficient to fill whole volumes: for who is able to find out all his ini∣quities, or reckon up his sinnes? who knoweth, saith David, how often he offendeth? Sinne in a wicked soule is so unmercifull a thing, that it hath no limits nor bounds of extent; it is that over-flowing Flood in the Scriptures, which drowned the old inhabitants of the earth; it is that raging sulphurous fire which burnt up the Cities of the ungodly; or if you will that Phaetons fire amongst the Poets, which enflamed the whole world; for no sooner doe we let at liberty our affecti∣ons from the yoke of discipline and good order, from that narrow path, and rule of vertue,

In cujus medio tutissimus ibis,

O man, in the midst of which thou safely mightst go, but presently wee act out the true Morall of Phaetons Fable. Phaeton let loose the reines to his frolick Horses, and they carry him (as the fiction goes) to the firing of the world, and his owne destruction; we doe but let goe the reines to our will and affections, and they car∣ry us likewise headlong to our unavoidable destruction, and to the setting on fire of this Microcosme, this little world of ours; here we may well note, that Religio a religando vere dicta est, Religion is truly so call'd from ty∣ing back the affections; and therefore now when once conscience doth thus let slip the reines of discipline, and

its due care of the soule, our little world, as I say, is all on fi••e; our thoughts, desires, and affections being as it were without God and his feare, are altogether flaming with the distemper'd heat of worldly cares, of ambiti∣ous projects, of lustfull courses, of impatio••t distra∣ctions, and the like; these things doe freely range a∣broad in t••e mind, doe take their pleasure and pastime therein.

Like School boyes, when their Master's gone away, They presently are at their roguish play: Iust so, when that the Conscience leaves to rule Our thoughts, the Devill forthwith keeps the Schoole.

And because our inside is thus unframed with disor∣der, that wee neglect Religion, and leave off the ne∣cessary managing and manuring of the soule by repen∣tance; sinne by little and little, becomes habituall un∣to us, an ordinary and unregarded thing; so that in a while Melancholy making the mind more eager and in∣tentivel•• let in al its courses, what either by being drawn to the impatient expectation of what wee would have, by feeding our selves with the pleasing fruition of that we doe enjoy, or vexing our selves with the feare of what may befall us, or with the griefe of that which doth already disaffect us, it is so, that for the most part there is very little space wherein our phancie is not in action with some one of these; such and such like things doe so seriously take up our time, and so earnestly em∣ploy our thoughts that our minds can hardly get leave at any time to bee at leisure for the common duties of Christianity: for when at our necessary oppor••unities, we goe about to reade the Scriptures, to meditate on good matters, or pray unto the Almighty; how exceed∣ing difficult is it for us to draw off our imagination from those other things, and set it upon these? or if we doe take it off, it is but as in haste with a longing to be at

them again: As also that little praying, meditating, or reading which we do at any time now employ our selves in, doth altogether methinks passe away without any sweetnesse in't; it hath no more relish to us (for the most part) then even as it were a rotten stick, or a thing of nought; so superficially doth it slip away on the outside of our souls.

In every thing, 'tis the delightful sweet Thereof, that doth with our affection meet.

I say, It is the sweetnesse thereof that joyns it closely to the thoughts, and unites it to the affections; and there∣fore these duties and the like being so out of relish with us, we have but little minde on them, we coldly regard them, and in a manner wholly neglect them; or if per∣adventure the fashion of the times tend thereunto, and that we can smoothly stop up the mouth of truth-know∣ing Conscience with some daubing satisfaction: we may, I say, we may some of us retain the outside, when we have lost the inside; we may seem to be delighted with an oral formality, when as it is no whit cordial within us; like unto shallow brooks that make a great noise with a little water; the shadow still continuing with us, whilst the substance is stollen away. But to go on in that way which is most usual: I say, The sub∣stantial deepnesse of true inward pleasure and delight in divine things being rooted up, pulls away with it the outward use of reading, meditating, and the like: so that we are seldom conversant in these things, although the liberty of our time give us opportunity for it never so conveniently: for it is to be noted, a truely willing minde can finde out shreds enough of time to bestow in that way, even in the busiest and most industrious Calling. And as for that more excellent gift of the Spirit, Prayer, that Princely Diadem amongst all hea∣venly graces, from whence all other divine blessings

do borrow some lustre and advantage; how far is the familiar acquaintance thereof gone from our souls? when as all our private devotion is now posted off to the publike; and that also so slenderly and coldly per∣formed by us, that the practice thereof is held on, it may be, rather for fashion sake then devotion; more with the motion of our lips then with the affection of the heart; following the publike exercise rather for fear of shame and reproach; I say, rather to keep touch and turn with the common Custome, then out of any religious care or good will thereunto: for though the Sabbath be but once a week, yet shall we most times be then glad, if occasion bee handsomly offer'd us to 'bide at home, and omit that duty.

It is too wet, or else it is too cold; And we can pray even as well here as there: These poor excuses, they are quickly told, When as God knows we pray not any where.

Again, as Prayer, so the Hearing of the Word is as much neglected by us, or as ill used, when we now sit at Sermons, it is more perchance with a censorious ear, like Moderatours to give judgement, and passe our opi∣nion, rather then as diligent Auditours, with humble hearts to receive instruction. If the Preacher doth but meanly perform his exercise, we are then ready to slight it, as a thing belowe us, and not worth our heeding: but if he go beyond us in his Learning and good parts, we are on the other side peradventure discon∣ted in our selves, for that he exceedeth the reach of our capacity and qualification: for lo, we feel and finde as in this, so in all other things (it is worth observation) we finde, I say, that Nature is always so partial unto it self, that it is never tho∣rowly pleased, and fully contented, except every

thing succeed to the setting up of it selfe, and its owne advancement; and therefore that it hath got the ad∣vantage, it taketh its full selfe-contenting pleasure, and recreation without controle; diverting the whole course of our thoughts, words, and actions to serve its turne herein: yet for although conscience hath lost its prevayling command within us, neverthelesse it ceaseth not ever and anon to give us a call, and perhaps amidst our chiefest and securest sinnes, awaken us with a deep touching item, and remembrance of our selves; but onely flashing up our eyes wee fall asleep againe: and thus act on the story.

Navita de ventis, de tauris narrat arator, Enumer at miles vulnera, pastor oves.

The Plowman of his oxe, The Ship-man tels his mind, The Shepherd keeps his sheepe, The Souldier wounds in mind.

Every one, saith the Poet, thinks and talkes most of that which hee hath most to doe with, and doth most affect; and here nature principally begins to play her part, and shew her affection; our selfe accusing, and im∣patient mind cannot abide the rehearfall of miseries; unhappinesse and affliction; the hideous newes of such things is too rough for our tender thoughts to meddle with; whatever come of it hereafter, we must by all meanes put off for the present, as farre as may be from us that day of the Lord, and righteous retribution of his most just vengeance: againe, also the deadnesse of heart maketh our soule to loath abhorre and leave off to hear and speak of holy and pious subjects, as the dispraise of vice, the commendation of vertue; the maner and means of Mortification; of Sanctification, of our Re∣demption, and the like; snuffling away all such matters

if it be possible, into other discourse: because we feele our hearts so dead and rotten inward, that these things doe nothing else but secretly speake the Condemnation and shame of our owne lives: and therefore when as out of the abundance of the heart (as saith our Savi∣our) the mouth speaketh, therefore I say on the other side, our thoughts being alwaye. for the most part vain∣ly and outwardly disposed; our delight is to be talking of vanity all the day long, to be asking after, and tel∣ling of newes, whereby to claw our idle phansie with, or it may be questioning how rich others be, what con∣dition they are in, how they doe thrive and the like; our Melancholy thoughts mainly labouring with emulation against others: and such verily is alwayes the rivality and inward striving betwixt equals, or those that be neer equals in the same kind, that sure I cannot thinke that it is a quality much lesse then naturall unto all man∣kind, so to contend in affectation of desire; this emula∣tion was there amongst the Patriarks when they sold Ioseph, and amongst the Apostles when they vie'd who should be the greatest: and thus our minds being so wholly set on earthly things, and things of this world, it is seldome that we can thinke upon those men that are in a little better prosperity then our selves, but with the eye of envious emulation, counting it as so much the worse for us, and an eye-sore to our state and reputati∣on that they goe beyond us; and againe taking it as it were somewhat the better for us; and applauding our selves in content therewith, if they fall out and appeare to be somewhat under the condition that we our selves are in; thus as wee doe enviously thinke that too much which our successefull neighbours have, and enjoy, and swell after their happinesse with indignation at our owne; so also are we many times unhappy in our own happinesse without any comparison at all, or in respect of others; but meerly in our selves, and in regard of our owne bottomlesse desires, thinking all too little that

we have, although we do not think of any that have more; just as the Poet, in a similitude of covetous men,

Quo plus sunt potae plus sitiuntur aquae,

The more they drink, the more they are athirst: so may we truely say of our selves, in the words of the Prophet Habakkuk, Chap. 3, We enlarge our desire as hell and as death, which cannot be satisfied. What we have already, methinks, serves but as the sawce to set an edge to the stomack to receive more, as if we had a consu∣ming Wolf in our brest, or those two daughters of the Horsleech which Solomon speaks of in Prov. 30, which have no other language but continual crying out, Give, give more still, and yet more, and yet no content.

He is not rich whose minde doth keep him poor; He onely hath enough, that seeks no more.

Nay farther, our apprehension is apt to be so subtilly deluded with this vice, that, as if avarice were a vertue, we shall be ready to think and say, of any one that is an hard and unreasonably-neer man in his dealings and commerce with others, and that will stand out for the utmost farthing in every thing, though it be never so justly due and to be yeelded unto; of such a one, I say, who hath cunningly learnt to oppresse the poor man by the advantage of his necessity, we shall be ready thus to think and say, I warrant he is wise enough, he will look to himself, he will not be fool'd of his goods; taking his exam∣ple as a lawful patern for us to imitate. But of one that is a conscionable, honest and plain-dealing man, that will not stand so eagerly, nor practise such policie for gain; we are likely to judge him as an easie fool, and not wise enough to live in the world. But O alas, one day, one day peradventure we shall see that the wise∣dom

of this world is foolishnesse with God; acknowledging our mistake herein as they did, who once said in the sorrow∣ful conviction of their souls: We fools counted this mans life (this quiet honest mans life) madnesse, and his end to be without honour: but see! how is he numbred amongst the children of God, and his lot is amongst the Saints: therefore have we erred. When the soul (having forsaken God) begins to go alone, and to trust to its own strength, so full do we presently grow with superfluity of outward Sense and humane Wisedom, that be we never so lightly toucht with any thing which seems to waste and decay our temporal subsistence; if once our Egyptian staff, this confidence on outward things never so little begin to crack; how are we ready to fall in••o utter de∣spair? Sure we cannot continue with such a charge; we cannot hold out long in such losses or expences: our narrow hearts, Nabal-like, grunting and grumbling for fear that we shall not have enough for our selves to live by. O thou unhap∣pie soul of man in all distresses, doubts and calamities!

What patience or comfort canst thou have, Who trustest in such things that cannot save?

Now and then, like prisoners within the Grate, we may look out into the fresh air, and see the golden hap∣pinesse of the day, though we cannot get out and enjoy it: we shall peradventure now sometimes think upon Repentance, and gaze afar off on the joyful condition of the soul, desiring that we could be delivered from this bondage of sin: nay, and it may be we do also strive somewhat, and endeavour our thoughts thereunto; but alas, it takes no firm holdfast in our brests, it goes not thorow the heart, nor seriously to the quick as it should; but suddenly it passeth away again without effect:

or if it doth take any hold in us, it is very momentany & of short continuance obscured quickly with the clouds of sinne, and altogether forgotten; for let us know that Conscience even in the freest and fullest pursuite of sin is many times, so reall and urgent with us, that it will not be sleighted, but either by excusing our selves, by mitigating the nature of sinne, by a seeming repentance, or the like, we must needs give it some content, though it be but as a meere dulusion for the time, and to no purpose at all; but I prosecute the patterne of our in∣tention; in like manner as Melancholy joyned with so∣litary privacy is wont to make good Meditations in the time of grace take the deeper root in nature; so like∣wise it being united with a retired solitarinesse maketh evill thoughts in the time of sinne much more stub∣bornely to persist within us, cleaving a great deale the faster to our apprehension, and fixing a farre sore im∣pression in our soules.

Sad Melancholy is truly then in kind, When silence locks the closet of the mind.

Then doth mischiefe take greatest advantage when it gets the soule to be alone by her selfe; for Homo solus aut deus aut daemon, the solitary and alone man is usually ei∣ther exceeding good in his thoughts, or exceeding bad; and therefore now wee find out of due experience now I say when as grace is not able to master our cor∣ruption, that it is much better for us to use a sociable and jocund behaviour towards others, addressing our selves in a complying Familia ity with good honest company in civill recreation, then to be much retired alone, though it may seem more strict, because this ve∣rily is many times a meanes to put us from farre worse things and greater inconveniences; natures that are composed to Melancholy, wee may fitly conceive to be much like Iron, which receives a greater heat of fire

into it, and retains it longer then those things which are of a rare and thin substance; for we always feel these solitary, these sad and melancholy sins of ours to be of a far deeper dye, and to wound our Consciences more dangerously then those other lighter kinde of sins, those merry, as I may so call them, and superficial sins: these sad ones, I say, are worse, because they are moulded with deliberation in the heart, and come from a setled good-will and determinate in∣tention; but those other, those merry ones, are one∣ly for the most part as sudden flashes arising more in∣considerately, and passing away as a guest of one night.

Well, to proceed in Anatomizing the particulars of this our now sin-sick soul: The wicked, saith Solomon, fleeth when none pursueth him. An evil Conscience having moved the foundation of our Spiritual comfort, eve∣ry bush is a thief with us, every thing becomes our enemy, though not really, yet in conceit. How often and how apt are we now presently to terrifie, disqui∣et and affright our selves at nothing, perchance but at the very shadow of things? for but thus, if we fall out with any neighbour or others into enmity and dis∣content; if but once we drink into our brests a per∣fect distaste, there's no digesting, no forgetting, nothing but vexing in our souls: so many eager, fearing and fretful thoughts do constantly boyl up in our stomacks against him, that from thence for a good while toge∣ther, whole clouds of fears, of doubts and distempers do sollicitously overwhelm and passe over our heads: so that specially if we speak not with the party in a pretty space after, our close-kept thoughts are peradventure full of expecting his supposed malice is ready to do us the greatest mischief that may be, and so again are we there∣upon hatching and preparing perchance like motions of revenge against him, conceiving some cruel tyrany wher∣with to satisfie our selves upon him, little considering

that all this while for the most part we do but fight with our own fancie, fearing where no fear is, and concei∣ving revenge where there is no cause of revenge: for at length having spoken with our adversary, and un∣folded our selves together, we shall most times finde that he hath scarce had any the least ill imagination a∣gainst us; and so by a true hearted disclosing our minde one to the other, we are perhaps easily undecei∣ved, and become friends again: whereas the muing up our selves from our enemy in a melancholy strangenesse and squint-ey'd retire, might breed a continual and a deep Conscience-wounding grudge betwixt us.

The sullen man that's discontent. bis life ne'er wanteth wo: If nothing else will him torment, his fancie proves his fo.

Moreover, the peevishnesse of our Nature, in like manner, for want of the confirming strength of Grace, is always apt to construe the words and actions of our enemy to the worst, taking every thing to be done by him either in despight, or malicious disgrace and con∣tempt of us; eagerly affecting and troubling our selves with that conceited fury of our enemy, which per∣chance is not in him; or if it be, it is that thing which we ought rather to pity then fight with; even common Christianity teaching us to have more wit and godly advisednesse, then as Solomon saith, to meddle with a fool in his folly, or with a mad-man in his madnesse; with an unmanly weaknesse o•• minde childishly in the same sense to reply again to that his madnesse and fury; but in stead thereof rather mildly and charitably to enter∣tain his foolish humour, knowing our selves also subject unto all infirmities. But we cannot refrain; this is our humour; we must needs deal back again the words and deeds that we do receive. Alas, how sweet is the de∣sire

of Retaliation and Revenge to the solitary nature, being without the directing power of Godlinesse? how can we put up such and such things? how can we chuse but retort again, Oh that we were so rich, so powerful as thus and thus? what an happinesse were it then for us to be able to crush our enemies, and to cut them off as we would desire?

Invidiâ Siculi non invenere Tyranni Tormentum majus----------------

Envy's a greater torture to the minde Then the Sicilian Tyrants ere did finde.

This is Envie, to our souls the very devil of all sins, that hellish tormentor of a melancholy minde, which wearies our thoughts with continual anguish and vexa∣tion of spirit. O Lord, when we well consider the whole scope of a sinful man, or this man of sin which is within us, we can∣not chuse but think how true it is which the Prophet Isaiah speaks by thy special command, Isai. 48. 22. that there is no peace unto the wicked: no peace, I say, not onely in regard of the sting of conscience which follows sin, but also in regard of the ensnaring and toilsome trouble of sin it self▪ Wo is us true∣ly, no peace indeed; with one thing or other we are still out of quiet, either sin by n••useating distempers doth disturb the health of the body, or by laborious and far engaged passions doth unset∣tle the rest of the minde. What peace at all is there long with∣in us? either immoderate fear, or care, or grief, or desire, is ever oppressing our thoughts. And here observe it, whilst that we walk with God, we are methinks fenc'd about with his favour, so that none can hurt us; for his An∣gels do pitch their tents for a guard round about them that serve him. But now for want of faith, what do we not fear? how far without reason doth this passion ex∣tend in our melancholy soul, even almost into an infi∣nite conceit? for as a Circle made in the water begets another Circle bigger then it self, and so that another

again bigger then it self, encreasing thus I know not how far; just so the doubts and fears of our minde, by solitary plodding upon them, will beget bigger and bigger, and so bigger still without end: thus where there is no faith, there is no end of fear: fear and un∣belief have the like proportion in us, and must needs go hand in hand together, as it is Revel. 21, the fearful, and unbelieving, and abominable, &c. Again, what trou∣bles doth the minde now many times undergo in the immoderate hoe and care for things to come, in labour∣ing to prevent and provide for such and such accidents, with the utmost of our power.

And yet perchance it doth no whit prevail; A strange event makes all our labour fail.

Many, even many is the time that we are unspeakably vext with the forethinking and contriving of that which in the end never comes to passe; I say, vext by framing of hopes, of intendments, and expectations upon these and these things, which most times one means or other, Gods providence or death doth quite disappoint and cut off, according as it is in Psalm 146. 4; for when the breath of man goeth forth, he shall return to his earth, and then all his thoughts perish: all his thoughts, even all the former hopes, expectations and imaginations of his heart: Blessed therefore, blessed is he, as it follows in the next verse, that hath the God of Jacob for his hope, and whose trust is in the Lord his God. Blessed is he that herein can take the easie yoke of our Saviour upon him, by casting his care upon God; thereby saving all that needlesse labour of too earnest carefulnesse and di∣strusting trouble of minde for the morrow, because suffi∣cient for the day is its own trouble.

But to tell on the souls unquiet state, When sin doth thus become predominate,

So uncontented and so eagerly frappish are we apt to be, through the uneasinesse of the soul for want of true inward rest and satisfaction; I say, so full of wrath, of passion and anger in all our thoughts, businesses and affairs, that the least and smallest occasion, is enough to make us fret, chafe, aed be most furiously moved with those either equals or inferiours with whom we have to do; we cannot chuse but unsheath our passio∣nate fury and outragious disturbance, into cniding and unquietnesse; we can by no means bridle our selves in the least degree; our humour must have its course; and then perchance afterwards, our thoughts reflecting up∣on themselves, do secretly check us, and make us sorry again for this our rashnesse, heartily wishing that we had not done so, and that we were at one with the par∣ty as before; onely that we be loth to confesse so much, or bewray the acknowledgement of our own errour. See the disquieting unhappinesse of sin! If we do not thus vent our wrath, we can be at no rest for fretting inwardly: and if we do vent it, we are displeased with our selves for doing it impatiently and undiscreetly: others cannot please us, and we cannot please our selves: What peaceful harmony of concord or content can there then be to our souls? I say, Others cannot please us; for nature hath so out of all reason bent us to our own courses, to our own minde, to our own wills in every thing, ut ferè nihil placet quod non nostrum est; that almost nothing contents us, but that which is of our own doing and contri∣ving; it even cuts to the gall to be any way crossed and contradicted in our intentions and desires: when we have once took an opinion, let it be ad∣vised by whom it will be, stiff-neck'd nature being

uncontroll'd by grace, it is so obstinate in her own sense, that 'tis as death for her not to have it go and be ac∣knowledged in her own way; and therefore let it fadge how it will, we must, I say, we must needs prevail in contending, though it be for the worse: and when at length we have thus peradventure through much diffi∣culty obtained our desire, and gotten our wills fulfill'd, even then also are not our thoughts happie therein: though for the present it might seem to delight us, yet are we not long well pleased therewith in our selves; nay, perhaps that also in the end gives our minde little satisfaction; 'tis nothing but our conceit, nothing but that we would have it so, and then would it had not been so; this is the course of it: so little peace of minde is there to that soul which is without God, and left alone in the snare of sin.

Sure enough it is, O let us observe it; I say, Sure enough, that our own will is always our worst enemy, could we but consider it: nay methinks, for all she seems to be as our onely friend, yet in truth we have no other enemy can do us hurt, but onely her: not the malice of all the creatures, men and devils in the world, are able to bring upon us the least unhappinesse without her help.

He that can then his own affections quell, Doth even as much as if he conquer'd hell.

It is this Own self and Will of ours that parts us from God, joyns us in society with the devil; and thus brings us at length (if not prevented by Grace) to the certain destruction both of body and soul. It is our Saviours counsel, that if our eye, hand, or other mem∣ber offend us, we should cut it off, and cast it from us: this doubtlesse is a most difficult thing, a hard saying, for a man to cut off his own flesh, that which is so close and neer unto him, and indeed I believe that wholly to

part our selves from our selves, is to divide indivisibilè, that which as long as we continue mortal men, is not to be divided: but to cut off those rank grown extrava∣gancies of our wills, this proud flesh, these limbs of the devil, that must needs be done, if we mean to follow Christ, and enter into heaven, unlesse together with them we will be cast into hell fire, to follow Christ: for this is the right way to follow him, by denying our selves; because we plainly finde both by his most holy Doctrine, Mark 8. 34, and Example, Mark 14. 36, that his busi∣nesse in this world was not to do any thing of his own will, the will of man, but in all things the will of him that sent him, even the will of God.

But further; to see what a deal of trouble and un∣quietnesse is there always stirring in the sinful minde of man? what a restlesse vexation another while do the ambitious projects and aspiring motions of our vain imagination put us unto? even so far, that sure me∣thinks it is an Ixion's task, or as a Bridewell-work to undergo the toil that such encroaching and climing thoughts many times torment us with. How doth our fancie labour to be so great, so high, so rich, that we had such an office or estate, that we were in the condi∣tion of such a man and such a man? and thus when we have vainly supposed so far and so far; when, like the Giants of whom the Poets do fable, we have set one mountain of ambitious desires upon another, yet then at last are we as far from satisfaction as they were from heaven.

Again, in the prosecution of our earthly policy, when the event of things that do much concern us frustrates our expectation, our lowe creeping mindes, that sacri∣fice onely to their own nets, to their own skill and wisedom; how do they snarl themselves in blinde con∣jectures? Lo, this doubtlesse was the cause that our businesse took not effect; it should have been done by such or such a means, it such or such a time, with these or these Circumstances; ••yring

out our selves to seek the reason thereof, like those blinde men that sought Lot's door and could not finde it; never thinking all this while on the Divine provi∣dence, which directeth all things, towards which our thoughts ought to aim their first and chief regard: and therefore it is that oftentimes we do try so many ways, spend so much time, break so many nights sleep, to no purpose: for sure, Except the Lord keep the Citie, all our la∣bour is lost, the watchman waketh but in vain. As Jehu an∣swered Jehoram, 2 Kings 9, so may we answer our thoughts, and with sufficient experience resolve our selves; What peace, content or rest can there be, so long as this Jezebel of sin raigns and remains within us?

No peace within, nor yet no peace without, But full of troubles, toils, and fears, and doubt. Our peace with all things utterly doth cease, Because with God we do not make our peace.

And thus on every side we both see and feel it, even too much, to our own grief, That there is no peace unto the wicked. The man of Sin, is a man of Trouble; trou∣ble in his minde with the distractions of sin; trouble in his conscience with fear of judgement; every way disturbed and out of rest: and yet lo, for all this, that there is so much unquietnesse, and trouble, and dis∣content in our sinnes, we are so strongly hampered and engaged therein, that there is no power in us to break off the bands thereof, or cast away her cords from us: through the habituated continuance there∣in, it is so hard and difficult for us to repent, I mean, fully and perfectly to repent, that it goes e∣ven against might to think of making up a reckon∣ing and an account with God: we are so totally as it were turned into sin it self, I mean, such an in∣vincible disposition of sinning in all our conversation,

that O who shall deliver us from this body of death? what course can we take to come out of this unhap∣pinesse? 'Tis high time to look about us, to raise our thoughts to some better notions: but such is the difficulty of true Repentance, that we cannot go thorow stitch with it; but this and this opportunity is still put off with excuses, with the presumptuous and flattering conceit that Gods mercy is infinite; we have had often and often trial of it; Doubtlesse we shall have some better time and more fitting season hereafter. But we who finde it so hard a matter at this time, a thou∣sand to one but that we finde it more difficult the next: the longer we continue in sin without due Repentance, the more methinks are we entangled with it, and day∣ly snarl'd the faster from getting out. O therefore let us take heed in time, and duely consider this, all we that now forget God; Consider this, I say, whilst we have time afforded us, lest in his wrath he sudden∣ly pluck us away, and there be none to deli∣ver us.

Here it is observable, according to what I have formerly intimated, that, though not usually, yet some∣times the Conscience is so cunningly daub'd up, that it seems within us to be as well satisfied with the out∣ward formality of Religion, as if it were in the state of grace and true reconciliation: our mouthes and the outside of our thoughts do draw neer unto God, when-as our hearts, the true depth of our heart, is far from him, even full of nothing but dead mens bones, the rottennesse and corruption of sin: we are, I say, thus so smoothly deluded in our selves, that we can seem boldly to chalenge acquaintance with Christ, and per∣haps think that we are able to boast of great matters in his Name, and yet for all that peradventure as it was with those in the Gospel, Mat. 7. peradventure, I say, Christ himself may never so much as know or ac∣knowledge one jot of Christianity within us: but

this deceitfulnesse of Religion, this superficial delight is easily discerned, if we mark it well, both by our selves and others, in that it is frequently wont to vent it self into a partial siding, contentious talking, part-taking and debating as those of whom the Apo∣stle speaks, that fell out about their Religion; I am of Paul, I am of Apollo, I am of Cephas; taking the sha∣dow for the substance, and mistaking the truth thereof, as though it were a thing so shallowly seated in the soul, that it consisted in wittinesse of discourse, sharp understanding, following of Opinions, and the like: no verily, the Kingdom of heaven, Religion and godli∣nesse, is not without, as our Saviour saith, but within us, even in the dressing, ordering and managing of our own souls. Indeed

Our Knowledge without Charity may swell Into Contentious strivings full of pride: But true Religion in that heart doth dwell, Where patience, love, and humble thoughts abide.

what ever or however the Conscience, as I say, may thus be deluded and held in some pleasing satisfaction, finely skinned over for a while with the upper part of Religion; yet in the truth of it, the wound that is so deep, is not so easily cured; this sinfulnesse of the minde here spoken of, having gotten such time and li∣berty with us, is not without great difficulty▪ deep sor∣row, many prayers, and much carefulnesse, took off a∣gain: and therefore till we can by Gods special mercy attain unto this thorow piercing and happie Repen∣tance, there is none so soveraign and helpful a means to prevent the dangerous encrease thereof, as is the con∣stant following of a good employment, ever to be do∣ing in one industrious action or another, according to the quality and manner of our life, even in one honest action or other, though it be but to little advantage:

so that the Rule is very true, Praestat oriosum esse, quam nihil agere; It were far better for us to be in action with that which is to no purpose, so that we do not sin in it, then to sit still and be altogether idle: for alas, we do by woful experience finde, that Idlenesse is rightly na∣med The devils Cushion; being seldome out of one sin or other, whilst we are out of action in some good employment: This Cushion makes the devil so easie a seat, that it is even an invincible work to remove him from our idle souls, or make him sit away: this is his seat, I say, and his shop too; here he freely sits and plyes his utmost skill, to mould our thoughts to the very wickednesse of his hearts desire; here he sits forging and fashioning all the ugliest forms of sin, and foulest monsters of impiety that ever entred into the heart of man: there is no sin so great, so hellish and inhumane, but Idlenesse hath been the means to hatch it into the world.

Quaeritur Aegistus quare sit factus adulter, In promptu causa est, desidiosus erat.

If you demand Aegistus why He did commit adultery; The cause is easie to be seen, Because he hath so idle been.

And as it hatcheth all sins in the soul, so of all other is it the most kindly Nurse of lust and fleshly desire in our melancholy nature. How doth the fancie hereby become polluted and most grosly defiled with all kinde of basenesse and obscenity? what inventions doth it frame for the provocation of lust? how closely doth it make us hug the amorous conceits of our enslaved fancie▪ nay, how do we many times hereby so deeply infect our thoughts with this kinde of vitiousnesse, that like Lime twigs they are ready to catch hold on every

object, converting it to some libidinous and wanton mo∣tion, the which perchance sometimes doth cling so fast unto us, that we can scarcely draw off again our ima∣gination from it.

Again, Idlenesse and Luxury, the excesse of eating and drinking, either in quantity or quality; I say, fulnesse of bread, and abundance of Idlenesse, are constant compani∣ons together: we that are idle, must needs be luxuri∣ous one way or other. And if Saint Paul said that the idle person was not worthy to eat or drink at all; how often and how much do we sin, when as the vanity of our idle souls causeth us to waste so much in superfluity, who are not worthy of sufficiency? O alas, so we live many times, as if we were created for nothing else but to eat and drink. Sure this is not the least, if not the greatest of our sins: for if abstinence be the chiefest help to mortifie the flesh, certainly luxury is the chiefest means to quench all goodnesse of the Spirit: and there∣fore see in the Gospel the devils desire to enter into the Swine; we hear of no other creature that at any time they desired to enter into, but onely, I say, into the gluttonous Swine, that of all other creatures being most uncleanly addicted to its belly; so fit an habitation is the gluttonous and luxurious soul for nothing but devils, but sin and uncleannesse.

But further with the story: our whole man is so ut∣terly disframed and disjoynted with sin, that there is no part but is out of order. When we seriously reflect on our selves and our so great imperfections, we cannot but fetch from within us many a deep sigh, to grieve at this our so great untowardnesse, thinking thus; How much are we now behinde the condition o•• the righteous? how mi∣serably do we mispend our time in being vassals unto Satan, and working our own damnation, who might in this time, so ill wasted, have as well made a good progresse towards heaven, and attained unto much comfort and proficiency in Religion? O ••ow do we want that light of understanding and re∣tention

of Memory in good things which we ought to have? how void are we of devotion to Godwards, that Charitablenesse of affection towards our brethren which we observe in others, that patience and cheerfulnesse in trou∣bles, that manly constancy in ruling the motions of the soul, as grief, fear, hope, and the like?

O we alone, we are in each degree So frail with sin, there's none so frail as we.

For behold, we are so crazed and weakned in all the strength and constancy of our minde through sin, that every passion is able to overturn us: either we are too much in fear of the roaring waves of calamity in this world, or too much in love with the pleasing vanities thereof; either we are too hot with the joy of pro∣sperity, or too cold with the grief of adversity; over∣joy'd with the tickling exaltation of the one, or faint∣heartedly dejected and cast down with the other: but of these two specially ought we to be careful and take good heed; there is always, as we may finde, a more principal danger in the joy of prosperity; for, saith Moses, Deut. 6, When thou hast eaten and art full, then be∣ware lest thou forget the Lord, &c. Narrow vessels are quickly over-fill'd: then, then, I say, in our prosperity do we feel our selves ready to run over the capacity of moderation, apt to grow lawlesse with unlimited pride, and to forget our reverence to that God which hath created us, and always doth so great things for us: and therefore it was that David said It is good for me that I have been in trouble. Happie is the man that is always bal∣lasted with such a constant stedfastnesse of minde, that let the winde blowe which way it will, can carry his affecti∣on with an upright, setled and indifferent moderation; can hold him fast by God in all changes of this life, patiently

hoping in him in adversity, humbly rejoycing in him in prosperity, so to rule himself with Saint Pauls resol∣vednesse of minde, Phil. 4, At all times, and in whatsoe∣ver state he be, as therewith to be content with satiety, and yet not drunken with excesse. See the folly of a sin∣ner, and strange besotted ignorance of our thoughts. Behold,

We fear the face of man, poor sinful man, When of the God of heaven we little scan.

though we have not much care of it, that our faults are all naked in the presence of God, that the Searcher of hearts knoweth the depth of them, and that they lie open plain enough before our Consciences, yet by no means we would that men should know so much of us; no, let self-loving nature alone to be sure to take heed of this, that no body know it but our selves: Oh, we may in no wise bewray our infirmities in any particulars: what vain fig-leaves of poor shifts and excuses do we so we together to cover us with, rather then we will be guilty in the sight of men: we shall chuse rather, many times, to make two sins of one, then discredit our selves by Confession; as thus: Pe••chance when we are re∣proved for our untowardnesse, reprehended for our vi∣ces, or any thing else be spoken which is harsh unto us, presently is our headstrong and self-accusing nature all on fire with spitesul scorn and ill-will against it, either moved with so much distemper as malitiously to revile the party, or else so deeply stung with inward unquiet∣nesse, as unsoberly to depart the place, not abiding to hear it any longer; such is our impatient desire of cre∣dit, our self-justifying honour on our own parts: But on the other side, to hear the dispraises and reproofs of others, to hear their credit broken by the tongue of en∣vie, that methinks is a contentment and recreation to us; or specially when we meet with them who are en∣clin'd

to speak against such parties that are out of our liking, then it is meat and drink to us to say Amen, and joyn with them in the like malevolent and disgraceful speeches. We are, I say, most impatient of reproof, specially if it be laid either sharp and closely unto us, or tedious and over urgent: and truely, though reproof ought humbly to be taken as sent from God justly for our sins, yet many times, through the rigotous applica∣tion thereof, it proves to our evil natures not onely un∣profitable, but hurtful, for we finde that when a wicked passion, on whatsoever occasion, is stirred up in the height of its fury, 'tis hard to be bridled, and dangerous to be dealt withal: Cain's countenance fell with furious indignation, Gen. 4. 5, and lo the sad effect, it is but the eighth Verse that he slew his brother Abel. It is here worth the marking, that sometimes and in some of us the smooth facility of minde can perhaps jest out, or pleasantly put off those self-same sins and disgraces which the rough seriousnesse of others doth take with a great deal of indignation, discontent and shame: the reason thereof partly without doubt is the different dis∣position of nature, and partly also the experienced po∣licy of sin; for sin, when it is used and practised in the soul, like an old Fox, grows more cunning and politick to conceal it self; it can make its guiltinesse seem to be innocence, its covetousnesse seem to be liberality, its pride humility, &c. Herod-like becoming seemingly vertuous, when it is never a whit the lesse, but rather the more truely vitious. But further with the real dis∣covery of our selves. Moreover, as the dogged mo∣rosity of our minde is frequently apparent in our beha∣viour towards our friends, in our dealing with strangers, and other like instances that may be quickly remembred, so also is our grudging unthankfulnesse not a little be∣fore God, and in reference to his Majestie: So that when losses or crosses do befal us, our words are usually these or such like: This is hard fortune, there is no body so

unhappie as we; we I warrant have the worst lot and portio•• of all men; foolishly not at all heeding the frequent miseries of others daily before our eyes, that rod of Gods correction which is imparted to our neighbours peradventure at the same present, and doth it may be in many degrees go beyond ours; if not, at the least∣wise we may remember how far the afflictions of poor Job do outgo our greatest sufferings, and yet he sits em∣bracing the dunghil with these words in his mouth, The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Have we receiv'd all good from him so long, And shall he think that now he doth us wrong?

O the perverse impatiency of our sinful nature, when our minde at first is newly wounded with our misfor∣tunes, and whilst that it is in a fresh and yet-bleeding remembrance with us, what cursed and even nothing else but madly discontented imaginations do there rise up and occur unto our mindes? how full of raging and masterlesse thoughts are we? so that if we go a∣bout never so little to stop the furious current of them, and to turn necessity into a vertue, by applying the con∣sideration of it to some contentful use or good reso∣lution, our wicked passion most times is so unruly with discontent, that by no means can we over-master or bring it into the subjection of any sober thoughts: Which being so, we must needs for the present let it slack, and altogether as much as possible exclude it out of the minde, if that haply afterwards our passion be∣ing allayed and more reasonable, we may consider it with some discretion; so hard a thing as I say is it to wrestle with a disturbed passion in its excesse: and truely, as sin grows on in the soul, so the passions of our minde grow further and further into excesse and immoderate distempers.

Sin when it getteth much strength within, is me∣thinks of all things in the world most like unto the pe∣stilence: the Pestilence, when the height of the dis∣ease is upon a man, makes him, even as phrenzie, distem∣pered with the violence thereof; so as, I say, sin doth here unhinge all the affections of the soul into a furious and madly-behaving humour, when it flies much out of reason into an immoderate excesse. The Pestilence when it worketh a full infection, is a disease very mortal and deadly, so that few escape it: so sin, when a man is much over gone therewith, bringeth the soul into a very sad and dangerous condition; and it is the effect of Gods greatest mercy that we do overcome it. Lastly, the Pestilence, that grand misery of Mankinde, is usually attended upon with many inferiour mischiefs; as the Measles, Small Pox, and the like: so sin, those great exorbitancies of the minde, which are truely the misery of all miseries, and cause of all miseries unto us men, are ever accompanied with smaller inconvenien∣ces and vanities of conversation: And so then, what with greater sins, and lesser vanities, we may now well say with the Preacher, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.

There is no word, no deed, no, not a thought In us, but's vain and altogether nought.

I say, What are all our thoughts, our words and deeds but vain, even of no weight, substance and soli∣dity? for, know thou, O my soul, that nihil est non va∣num, quod non ad aeternitatem pertinet; that all that is vain, which aims not at eternity. Those thoughts, th••se words, those works, which perish, and do not ac∣company and follow us into heaven, that we may there for ever rejoyce of them; those, all those, I say, are vain and idle, and such whereof

we must be sure, as our Saviour saith, to give an ac∣count: and thus through our so totally depraved con∣dition of sin, all that is within us is become vanity, and lighter then vanity it self; our thoughts think vanity and nothing but vanity: we say to our selves, What profit is there in serving the Lord? do not things fall out and prosper as well with the wicked as the righte∣ous? Doubtlesse, he that dwelleth on high regardeth it not; and there is no difference unto us.

Again, we think foolishly, Hath not God s•• chained the course of things by his Eternal Predestination to such and such periods and events, that the fatal bo••nds and decree thereof we can by means frustrate? Alter it we cannot; how then is it in us to do good or to do evil? 'tis not our fault that we are not saved, we could not sin, bad ••e not appointed it; and we cannot avoid it, because he hath appointed it.

Thus we many times ignorantly judge and con∣ceive that Gods ways are as our ways: but he shall one day convince and reprove us; he shall set our sins before us, making our Consciences truely to con∣fesse, that Thou, O Lord, art good, art holy, righteous and just; but it is we of our selves that have sinned, done wickedly and stubbornly, gone astray from thy Com∣mandments.

Our thoughts think nothing but vanity. Such is the vain singularity of our intentions in any thing which is of moment or considerablenesse, that we contem∣ptuously slight and lightly regard to follow the com∣mon manner and fashion, always aiming at some rare and unusual way, thereby to be advanced into a more general note and eminent reckoning. Such also is the vain disdainfulnesse and height of our minde, as to think ostentimes these and these our inferiours not good enough to have any familiarity or boldnesse with us, to be accepted or taken notice of in our com∣pany, or the like.

Such again is the vain ostentation of our personal behaviour, when we are in better company abroad in publike, or amongst strangers, that we usually cast our thoughts ambitiously behinde us, with a vain care and curiosity of minde, to observe whether our clothes, discourse and deportment are likely to leave behinde us in the opinion of men a worthy estimation; d••si∣ring, in the stout pride of our hearts, so to carry our selves in outward credit towards others, as to be ob∣served in the sight of men; and according to the Poet, Monstrari & dicier hic est. I say, that it might be said of us, that we are such ones, of such note, &c. And such also on the other side is our too sullen retirednesse from convenient company, when Diogenes-like we stubbornly shrink in our selves from an ordinary con∣versation with men, either out of a shamefac't strange∣nesse and inurba••ity of behaviour, or else out of a self will'd roughnesse of minde, that we will not com∣municate our selves unto others. And here

We may most times observe it by the by, That Melancholy gives a secret touch Of surly, close, and stern morosity, Which speaking little, always thinketh much.

Though Melancholy be full within of great thoughts, yet it seldom unmasks it self, but upon humours; and then peradventure when we are in the vein of it, we as vainly fall again into extremes on the other side, lavish∣ly spending our spirits in over much talking and eager∣nesse of discourse, thereby wearying out our selves ma∣ny times in vain; and not onely so, but perhaps work∣ing our own wo withal: For, Locutum esse aliquand•• poe∣••ituit, tacuisse nunqu••: A fool, saith Solomon, Prov. 29, ••ttereth all his minde; but a wise man keep••th it in till after∣wards.

A fool uttereth all his minde; and such is our folly to run out into vanity of words, sometimes in one fashion, sometimes in another; but specially most of all, into vainly hyperbolical speeches, boastingly aggra∣vating the truth, or enviously extenuating it, according as our humour and inclination is bent; whereby our praiso or dispraise of any thing or person is altogether made factious after our fancie and liking, rather then any whit according to right understanding and impartial ve∣rity: for notwithstanding we do still pretend to speak nothing but what is just and equal, following the onely rule of discerning reason and indifferency; yet we can∣not but encline our words to the prejudicate sense of our own liking, making our arguments and proofs ser∣vants rather to affection then reality. As for example: If we vent our passion in ripping up of other mens faults, we plead thus for the doing it, That we know not how to dissemble, That we must needs speak the truth, &c. co∣louring that with the name of veracity, which is no∣thing else but the rancour of ill will; taking our indi∣gnation and sinister desire, to be zeal, a zeal to truth, whenas it is nothing but a breach of Charity: for though we can thus unmercifully censure others; though other mens motes are beams unto us, and we can fully discern their least enormities; yet we do sufficiently wink at and flatter our selves in far worse actions; we can cut large thongs, as it is said, of other mens Lea∣ther; enjoyning great duties, expecting great matters, and laying great burdens upon other mens shoulders, which we touch not our selves with so much as our least finger: I say, the mean while, God he knows, not performing the least part of our own duty: and therefore doth that saying of Saint Paul after check our Consciences; Thou that teachest others, teachest thou not thy self? &c. Behold, the wrath of man, saith Saint James, worketh not the righteousnesse of God. And sure, most times, we sin more against Charity by the wrathful censure

and reproof of other mens sins, even more, I verily believe, then they do in committing those sins which we so reprove, because Love, saith Solomon, Prov. 10. 12, covereth a multitude, a multitude of sins: surely not of our own sins, 'tis not so meant, but of other mens. And Charity, saith Saint Paul, suffereth long, is kinde, is not easily provoked, beareth all things, believeth all things, &c.

If we truely consider it, when we judge this or that mans pride; what is it else that doth it, but a greater pride in our selves? when we condemn other mens malice and envie, it is nothing else peradventure but because our own hearts are fuller of envie themselves; nature it may be thinking thus to adorn her self with others spoils, and to deck up her credit with the good name she takes away from her neighbour. Better, O how much better were it for us, in stead thereof, to turn cri∣ticks to our selves and our own lives, then to be so censoriously busie about others.

Better, I say,

To 'bide at home, and shew our utmost skill In setting right our own corrupted will.

In judging others, that is all that we can get by it, The greater judgement to our selves: but by judging our selves, we may haply escape the judgement of God; For, saith Saint Paul, if we would judge ourselves (that is, truely ransack our own souls for sin) we should not be judg∣ed of the Lord.

And as the ancharitable judging of other's sins doth doubtlesse encrease our own judgement; so when we applaud, rejoyce in, and are well pleased at the falls and sins of others; what do we likewise but encrease our fur∣ther condemnation? This hugging of our souls in the be∣holding of other mens vices, which many times we do, proveth us to have the seed of that wicked one within us,

who delighteth still in having more company unto damnation. Indeed to have many fellows and com∣panions in sinning, may perhaps rock our evil consci∣ence into a securer sleep for the time; but it cannot give u•• the least true rest or satisfaction of minde. That others sin as much as we, is no priviledge at all for our sins: they shall stand upon their own bottoms, and we shall be sure our selves to answer for our selves; one's faults cannot plead for or excuse anothers: eve∣ry one shall have enough to look to himself and his own ways. It is to be mark'd amongst the rest, that the different temper of body and manner of life, as to live in some places with some people, in some Call∣ings, and the like, is a strong means to make sin in many of us to abound into a more grosse and frequent impie∣ty then in other-some: for although nature in all men be corrupted with the seeds of sin, with a readinesse and propension even unto the greatest evils; yet these first beginnings are much more rankly grown from the womb in some men then in other-some, which causeth them to undergo a greater difficulty in subdu∣ing themselves by grace, and to be more violently carried down the stream, when once sin gets the upper hand. As also our manner of life may adde great ad∣vantage unto temptation.

In Sodom for to live a righteous Lot, 'Tis like a Painter that's without a spot. By touching Pitch, alas it is no news To be defil'd, if that we cannot chuse.

He that is conversant where many occasions be offer∣ed, shall hardly put by often inconveniences.

But we proceed with the secret sinful motions of our unhappie life. When there is any thing of heedful

concernment in our thoughts, which we do endeavour to effect, or have resolved upon to have it done; if it chance any whit long to be delayed, and not finisht forthwith according to our hope, the greedy desire and expectation thereof is such a torture presently to our over hastie souls, that in a while out of distrustfulnesse we either utterly despair of it, or through impatiency of minde, we strive (if it be possible) to bring it to passe against might, or otherwise one way or other, are ready to procure some indirect means whereby our ea∣ger intention may be fulfilld; headlesly running on many times thus to multiply our sins without any rea∣son, not considering at all, that if we had not tor∣mented our selves with such over eagernesse of expe∣ctation, and sinn'd against God with this unlawful hasti∣nesse of minde and despairing thoughts, doubtlesse our businesse would have never the worse, but rather the better have took its effect in due time: and this is that impatient hastinesse of minde and distrustful fear that maketh many of us to curse and swear so much in the passion of discontent; to go to Witches for recovering again the goods that we lose; or so soon as we be sick to post to the Physitian as our onely hope; and the like. It was this impatient ha∣stinesse of minde that made Saul offend, 1 Sam. 13. 8: whenas both he, and our selves, did we but use the counsel of David, Psal. 27. 9, to tarry the Lords lea∣sure, and be strong; I say, his leasure with patience, and be strong in faith, we might verily prevent many a sin, nay, perchance most sins; for were it not this im∣patient hastinesse of ours, what sin almost is there could prevail against us, had we but that true patience and stayednesse of minde soberly to wait and weary out the temptation, the devil might go away from us as he came.

The storm most fiercely for the time doth rage: Stay but a little, and it will asswage.

It is this too importunate hastinesse that causeth discon∣tented murmur••ngs against God, making us, when things go not to our mindes, and that we prosper not according to our account and expectation, even making us, I say, half angry with the Almighty, as though he were a debter to fulfil our desires. It is this hastinesse which draweth us many times into the most dangerous im∣pieties.

Sin in time brings the soul into such a senslesse dulnesse and stupidity, that as if we had made a Covenant with d••ath and a League with hell, we are little moved with any ter∣rour thereof, and we quietly yeeld up our selves, as if there were an inevitable necessity for us to be thus wie∣ked and ungodly: we know not what to say or to do in the case; we are so much plunged in this mire and clay, where there is no ground, no hope of coming out, that it is beyond all that we can think and endeavour, to do our selves any good; and therefore we cannot conceive sin and this inward corruption of nature to be any other∣wise in us then as a corruption in the body, which when once it hath gotten a long continued vent and running issue in the leg, there is no stopping thereof without pre∣sent death to the party, unlesse there be an issue made for it in another place. And so we being thus filled, as Saint Paul speaketh of the Heathen, Rom. 1, with nothing but spiritual corruption in the soul▪ unrighteousnesse, fornica∣tion, wickednesse, covetousnesse, maticiousnesse, &c. we cannot imagine how the vent thereof can be stopt, but that it must needs have passage one way or other; and indeed so for the most part, when it is stopt of its ordinary course, it findeth out a secret vent elsewhere. And truely

after this manner sometimes we seem to be reclaimed and reformed of our accustomed vices, whenas in very deed we do but turn out of one sin into another: for this is the devils policy, now and then to imitate Re∣pentance, by altering and changing up and down our sins, to the end they might not grow tedious unto us, to make us loath and abho•• them utterly, or perchance to give our consciences some satisfaction with the shew of Repentance, that we may the more securely conti∣nue in sin. For the devil hath many shifts to invent, wherewith to give us content and delight. He will provide all variety and pleasure that is possible, to in∣dulge our appetite; as, being weary of this sin, that we may go to another; our affections being tired with am∣bition, we might recreate our selves with lust and luxu∣rious idlenesse; our souls being stopt of their course in malice and covetousnesse, we might take as it were a turn another while in Epicurism and indulging vanities: sometimes perhaps a variety in the manner of our sins for novelties sake, may give us a little change of satis∣faction; as sometimes it may be plain dealing gives the minde best liking in our sins; sometimes equivocating and deluding excuses; sometimes the matter is best of all to be qualified with a crafty involving of others help∣ing in the act: sometimes again, a sole and absolute secresie of the whole businesse, is more grateful to our conscience. Every way, and however it be effected, we feel our selves in sin just as in the condition of sick men: he that is much sick, is not in so much ease as to lie always on one side, though his bed be never so soft: so sin, like the sick mans bed, hath not so much pleasure in it as to give us any long content: he turns from side to side to finde rest, and findes none so long as he is sick: so we unhappie sinners wallow to and fro in our sinnes without rest: we are unstable in all our ways.

There's no delight, no rest is to be found, Whilst sin in us so strongly doth abound.

I say, we can finde no pleasure, no full, satisfactory, o•• long content in pleasure, as long as we thus turn out of sin into sin, out of one bad course into another, unlesse that we quite turn out of sin unto God. But wo is us, Hic labor, hoc opus est, here lies all the difficul∣ty, this is the main matter of all; the flattering sub∣tilty thereof hath, as I said, for long ago, as Dalilah be∣guiled Samson, so wholly robb'd and beguil'd our soul▪ of all their strength and courage to true R••pentance, that we were much too weak to break off from us those fettering bonds and manacles of unrighteousnesse which do so strongly tie us unto unhappinesse; a mi∣sery certainly full of all miseries, to be so far involv'd therein that we can see no probability to get out: and yet lo, this is not the utmost, it doth not rest here; we must yet ••urther entertain a greater unhappinesse; for now behold a far more grievous and worse thing for the present hereby happeneth unto us, Gods judge∣ment, the usual consequence of continuance in fin, prepares after so long forbearance to lay siege unto our consciences; and the messenger of Satan, like a trumpe••er is sent in to summon us beforehand: for behold, hi∣deous and dismaying thoughts begin to slip into our minde, exceedingly to terrifie and strike thorow our un∣happie souls, the strangenesse of which many times at the first coming of it, doth so gastly affright and startle us, that our hearts are ready to faint and swoon with the terrour thereof: and this, this, I say, for the pre∣sent out of our unadvis••dnesse and ignorance of the right understanding hereof, commonly becomes a greater snare to us to keep us off from Repentance,

then all our former sins, and distempers besides; for when perchance we endeavour to settle our thoughts upon Humiliation, and are ready to take upon us the examination of our wicked and sinful life, as lifting up our thoughts into this Meditation: Oh how the time passeth away! the daily-consuming torch of our life burneth out apace, and shall we continue still in this desolate and deplored condition without due Repentance and reconciliation with God? how far are are we from that glorious comfort and most hap∣pie state we use to enjoy in the time of grace? &c. Wher, I say,

When that with serious sighs we in this sort Do our own selves into our selves retort.

preparing our selves for Repentance, and striving to humble our souls before God, then forthwith do these hideous and dismaying thoughts, or the remembrance of them, so utterly discourage and dishearten us, that we are fain to leave off again so soon as we have be∣gun: For whenas our thoughts should be fill'd with humility and dejection for our sins, then are they rea∣dy to swarm with nothing but vile and monstrous ima∣ginations. Better therefore do we judge it, for the most part, whilst that we are newly acquainted here∣with, to let all alone, then by that means, as we suppose, to procure Gods greater wrath and indignation upon us. Besides, thus we are ready to conjecture with our selves; What hope or likelihood is there for us to obtain the favour of that God, from whom we are so dangerously separated, and whom again we are with such impiety of minde ready to dishonour? And so are we beaten off from our poor and weak endeavours.

Not daring to approach his glorious Name With thoughts that speak nothing but fear and shame.

Well, these hideous glances do perchance ever and anon slip into the imagination, and are very terrible and tedious unto us. But many times it falls out for a while, until we either better understand our selves herein, or that God shew forth his power more strongly in us: I say it falls out many times, that the earnest employment of our minde in the fears, cares and desires of other things, doth not suffer us so seriously to tend for them, or else doth put them out of remembrance again; notwithstan∣ding ever and anon they do come into our heads to disturb and terrifie us most wonderfully. But specially 'tis to be noted, that if at any time we go about to read, or set our selves diligently upon the work of Repen∣tance, then sure they are abundantly present with us: and because they are so terrible that we cannot abide them, we must therefore needs leave off whatsoever we have took in hand; and this we may conceive to be a special policie of the devil, to have them chiefly propo∣sed to our phancie at such times, to the end, if it could be so, there might be no time for us to repent in: For now methinks at length, through a due self-consideration, and these manifold checking troubles and inconveniences, which so disturb us, that we cannot tell which way to turn for them; doubtlesse, I say, we have great longing to be reconciled unto God, and we would very fain repent, putting our strength really to it, did not now these Scar crowes stand in the way to affright us: and now in this (though not other∣wise) we can truely repent that we did not repent heretofore, that we had not drawn neer unto the Lord whilst he might be found, since that in those great wa∣ter-floods,

this day of trouble and temptation, we cannot come nigh unto him: for most deservedly we that have continued so long in our sins for our own pleasure, to content our selves, must yet con∣tinue a while longer to content Gods justice. As yet then for all this, though the Ax be as it were laid to the root of the tree, Gods judgement and venge∣ance to our evil Consciences, yet we cannot leave off the deceitfulnesse of our souls, our oppressing po∣licie, the vanity of our minde, the excusing our sins, the swelling and self-conceited folly of our hearts, and the like.

It is to be observed, that according to the method in this Book before premised, most of us men have some one part or space of our life (be it four or five yeers, or whatsoever) wherein sin hath more full power over us, and perhaps doth thus prevail in us with an high hand and setled course, and this time above all the rest is the time of sin, as being so properly disposed for it, that during the continuance thereof, we can never attain unto true Repentance: for though that we may sometimes superficially fallow up our souls with the Sollow of Humiliation, yet do we not so thorowly plow them up as to fit them for the due receiving of that good seed which is able to fructifie into newnesse of life. Sure this is not an easie thing:

A perfect sinner doth not change his hue, So quickly turning his old life to new.

Though we may peradventure many times outwardly scan over the duty of Repentance, yet do we not during this time so perfectly repent, as thereby to get a full Release from the▪ guilt of sin, or such a comfortable

and a discharging acquittance to our Consciences, as we ought to have, and which maketh us chearful and free powerfully to resolve and set on towards amendment of life.

Well, to the matter. I say, What by one means or other, we are yet still scared off from the main hope and help of our souls, the comfort of Reconciliation; so great is our sinful folly and unability unto good. But this, all this, is but for a taste of inward trouble: See what follows: the hand of the Almighty doth not leave us so; if a man will not turn, saith David, Psal 7, God will whet his sword: he hath bent his bowe, and made it ready: hitherto there is no turning with us, nothing is able to turn us unto a due serious repenting, or sufficiently to rouze us up out of the unhappie Lethar∣gie of sin; and therefore sure God is now whetting his sword and bending his bowe against us As Lazr•••• in his grave, so we have been in our trespasses and sins so long dead, even stark dead unto all goodnesse, that we had need be call'd unto elatâ voce, as it is in the Eleventh of Saint John, with a loud voice, if God mean that we shall effectually hear him.

Dangerous diseases deserve desperate cures. If no∣thing else can thorowly awake us, the Judgement of a troubled minde and tormented Conscience must do it. But when once it comes to passe that the Almighty sheweth forth his wonders in the deep, his mighty strength after this manner in the deep thoughts of mans heart; O what a sharp fit and tedious bout must we undergo? for, saith Solomon, The spirit of ma•• may sustain his infirmity: but a wounded spirit who can bear?

Not Job's afflictions, nor yet all those ten Egyptian plagues can parallel agen

The misery that that poor soul is in, Whom heav'n doth strike with terrour for his sin.

Any outward crosse or trouble is tolerable, and may be sustained: but the inner trouble of a distracted minde and wounded Conscience, who can bear?

You may note, that though the minde and Conscience be toucht with many secret terrours and perplexed difficulties, in the course and passage of this life, according to that of David concerning himself, Even from my youth up, thy terrours have I suffered with a troubled minde.

I say, There be in the soul of man many tor∣menting thoughts; as also sins of ours, and say∣ings of Scripture often too hard for us well to di∣gest: but this ensuing Passage of a distracted minde and troubled Conscience is seldom paral∣lel'd.

For lo, I shall herein shew you a Mystery, even welnigh the very height and utmost pitch of Ter∣rour and sad Distraction that the melancholy minde can undergo without falling quite into Fury and Madnesse, which doth fitly follow this more then ordinary ill course of life here presupposed, and so long a sleep in presumption.

For this is the right Method in the state of the soul: before such great trouble of minde, there u∣sually precedes a deep sleep in Presumption, because the minde and Conscience can never be very much inwardly troubled, (it may suffer some small distresse)

I say, never be much troubled, as long as fear, the watch∣man of the soul, keeps his due centry. And therefore this is the true wisedom of a careful Christian, diligently to keep this watch about him, lest he be overtaken, be∣sotted and engaged in sin, and so then the day of the Lord come upon him like a thief in the night: I say, the day of the Lord, the day of his Judgement, a day of gloominesse and thick darknesse; a day of trouble and distraction of minde, even such a day (as is exprest in the next Part) where∣in the Lord thundreth from heaven with his mighty power against the soul of man,

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, 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.

Sit gloria Deo in saecula saeculorum.

Notes

• Psal. 101. 1