Divine meditations upon several occasions with a dayly directory / by the excellent pen of Sir William Waller ...

Divine Meditations Upon SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

MEDITAT. I. Ʋpon my awaking in a dark Night.

LOrd where am I? and in what world? how are all things a∣bout me (as they were in that no world, in that confused Mass and Chaos) swadled up in bands of thick darkness? It is not without reason, that the most horrid things, that we can imagine (misery, death, hell it self) are represented by this black Solitude; there being nothing of more contrariety to our nature, than the privation of light. If it be so uncomfortable to be in the dark, and to have no light, how dis∣mal

must it be in a spiritual sense to be in the dark, and to have no trust? that is a darkness to be felt indeed!

If this night were to continue but three dayes, (like that in Egypt) I should think it a plague; how much more, if it were to be everlasting, would it be a hell to me, though there were no other torment to accompany it? How uncon∣ceivably miserable is the estate of those damned Souls, that lie manacled and fettered in chains of eternal darkness, and are not onely banished from the light of the Sun, but (which is the black∣ness of darkness) shut out from the light of Gods countenance, and adjudged to eternal pains? But what an Idol am I in this condition? I have eyes and see not; all natural helps and parts are vain and useless, except the God of nature, vouchsafe to actuate them, and to make them instrumental. O my Soul, be not disquieted with this; what though I cannot see for the present? God hath made comforts, as he hath made lights for the night as well

as for the day. There are songs in the night, and my mouth may be open to shew forth the high praises of God, even when I am upon my Bed, and mine eyes sealed up in darkness. The sight of the eyes is not alwayes pleasing! how many times have mine eyes wounded my heart, when they have seen what they would not have seen? nay (which is worse) how many times have they corrupted my heart, when they have seen what they should not have seen? at the best, various objects are but a distracti∣on to the mind, and by raising vain de∣sires, bring it to a needless indigency, in∣ducing a want of many things, which we want not. There is a kind of inno∣cency in seeing nothing!

It is a comfort, and an inestimable one, that in the want of the use of my bodily eyes, I have the benefit of a spiri∣tual eyesight; so that although I cannot see, as Cats and Bats, and Owls do, yet I can see as Saints, and Angels see, no in∣terpositions can hinder an intellectual prospect. Be it never so dark, I can

(without the help of a Candle) look into my self, and in the sense of my wants, looks up, to God, and find a clear lightsome passage through Jesus Christ to the throne of his grace. But what do I say? I can? O my God, pardon the presumption of that language! of my self, as of my self, I can do nothing but sin! I am darkness (there is a mid∣night within me) and I can only see, that I cannot see! It were not only a blindness in me, but a remaining sin to boot, if I should say, I see. Who so blind, as they that are perfect? It is in thy light alone, that I see light! Thy gracious illu∣minating eye, is mine eye sight!

Lord let me ever enjoy the continu∣ance of that aspect, and then in the darkest condition (though it were the shadow of death) I shall not be afraid of any terrours; even the night shall be light about me; or if it be not, it shall be light with me. Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy will come in the Morn∣ing; and in a morning that shall never see night! In the mean time, O my

God, though I can see nothing here but darkness and obscurity, it is my safety, that thou seest me; it is my happiness that I can see thee! what can I wish for more in this world, then to be safe, and happy? return again unto thy rest, O my Soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee!

MEDITATION. II. Ʋpon the Sun-rising.

TRuly the light is sweet, and a plea∣sant thing it is for the eyes to be∣hold the Sun! look out, O my Soul, and see a miracle, and no wonder. Behold that glorious ruler of the day, as a bride∣groom coming out of his Chamber, deckt with beauty and excellency. If this great luminary had never shewed it self abroad till now, and were now to be seen, but as a rarity, this once; with what a Persian adoration should we be ready to welcome it, and with what

dejected countenances, should we bid it farewel? Now that we see it every day, we scarce take notice that we see it: once certain it is, that we heed it nothing so much, as any unusual Meteor, or fiery exhalation; so much more prone are we by nature to be taken with new, than with worthy, if ordinary ob∣jects!

And yet, upon a just account (all things considered) Gods ordinary works, which are established in a con∣stant course, are more wonderful than those extraordinary miracles, which we most admire: for the standing still of this Sun at Joshua's arrest, was not in it self so stupendious, as the daily pro∣gress thereof, that being so vast a bo∣dy, as it is, it should in the compass of a few hours circulate the World: Lord give me a true sense and apprehension of thine eternal Power and Godhead; and of thine invisible things, in the things that are made, even for common use, and which thou hast distributed unto all Nations under the cope of

Heaven; that so, as all those works praise thee, in the determinate order of their services; I may likewise con∣stantly give thee praise for them; not only because thou hast made them beautiful and excellent in their kinds, for thine own glory; but because thou hast made them ordinary and common, for the good of all thy creatures.

How doth this morning light revive, and cherish all things, and give them as it were a resurrection from the dead, and a new being? But even now they were buried in obscurity, and before I can well recollect my self, they ap∣pear in their proper colours, and stand as a garment new made up. O thou Sun of Righteousness, arise upon my Soul with healing in thy wings, and scatter those shaddows of darkness, that have so long benighted me; enlighten the eyes of my understanding, and so re∣new and quicken me by the influence of thy grace, that thy light may be a new life unto me; that I may live, yet not I, but thou that livest in me!

That Philosopher said truely, if the Sun were wanting, it would be night for all the Moon and Stars; for nothing but the Sun can make it day: And it is as true in a spiritual consideration; if it were not for Jesus Christ the light of the world, notwithstanding all the illumination we can receive from reason and sense, we should be still in the dark; and therefore some have observed, that our Saviour was born on the fourth day of the week, which was the same day of the week, wherein the Sun was created; as to shew that he was that Sun of Righteousness, and that true light that lighteth every one that cometh into the world.

What a general blessing is this be∣neficent planet? and how is the di∣vine nature of God emblematically re∣presented by it? It is good unto all; it riseth on the evil, and on the good; and without regard of persons, shineth upon the poor mans Cottage, as well as upon the Princes Pallace, and nothing is hid from the influential heat thereof!

Lord, this is a Copy of that universal Goodness, which is originally in thy self; but with this difference, that what the Sun doth, as to the fomen∣ting and cherishing of inferiour Bodies, it doth it as a natural agent, necessari∣ly, and insensibly; but what thou dost, is voluntarily and freely done, out of thine infinite love, and goodness to thy Creatures. Thou art the Foun∣tain of all blessing, and the God of all praise! Lord work upon my cor∣rupt nature by the influence of thy grace, that I may be conformed unto thee in the extension of mine affections unto all; in a way of doing good, not only to my neighbors, and such as love me, but to mine enemies, to those that curse, hate, and despightfully use me; that so I may approve my self a true child of my father which is in heaven; and be perfect, even as he is perfect.

But yet this beneficence of the sun worketh not alike upon all; those gra∣cious beams that soften the wax, do but harden the Clay; and as they make the

flowers smell the sweeter, so they ope∣rate no further upon the Dunghill, then to make that the more fetide, and noy∣some. It is a sad thing to be hardened by mercies, and to be the worse for Gods being good to us!

Though this sun-light be so pleasant to behold, yet it doth mine eyes no good to gaze upon it. If the lustre of a created light be so dazeling; how un∣approacheable must that divine light be wherein the great Creator dwelleth, the resplendency whereof is the light of light? Content thy self, O my Soul, with that prospect thou hast had of God's goodness (so far as he hath been pleased to reveal himself unto thee) but do not presume to speculate into his glory, least thou be oppressed with it.

It is impossible to see this light, but by its own light: who ever beheld the sun, but by the light of the sun? as im∣possible is it to see the Father of lights, but by the radiancy of the Son, who is the brightness of his glory! or to discern

the things of the Spirit of God, other∣wise then by the revelation of his spirit! The commandements of the Lord is pure, inlightening the eyes: we see it, and see by it. But what is become of all those heavenly tapers, those spangles of light, that did so lately adorne the skie? How hath the lustre of this predomi∣nant light obscured, and darkened them; It is in one sence, a sad exchange between the light of the Sun, and the light of the Moon and Starrs; that the Sun, though it do open, and reveal the sight of earthly things, yet it closeth, and shutteth up the prospect of the ce∣lestial Globe, so that we cannot discerne the beauty, and variety of those hea∣venly bodies above us, as we may do in the night. It is the misery of prosper∣ity, that as by reason of the brightness of that light wherewith it is environed, it giveth us a clear view of the glory of this world, and of all the vanities in it; so withal it darkeneth, and concealeth divine things, and thereby indisposeth us to raise our affections unto them: And

on the other side, it is the felicity of ad∣versity, that although the aire about it be very obscure, yet therein we best discern God, and spiritual things; so Job in his afflicton could say, Now mine eye seeth thee, of whom before he had only heard, by the hearing of the ear. Lord thou knowest what con∣dition is fittest for me, and I presume not to appoint thy wisdome, but so far as a poor beggar may be a chooser, I beseech thee rather to keep me in the dark (if thorough that vaile, I may be admitted to see the light of thy counten∣ance) then to suffer me to be dazeled with the lustre of this vain world, where∣in there is nothing to be seen, but that which is nothing, and less then nothing; O let me rather enjoy light in darkness, then live in darkness, when I am in the light!

In the beginning, for the first three dayes of the Creation week, there was no sun at all; but yet there was light, and that light was universally diffused thorough all parts, untill it pleased God

to contract it into one body. O Lord, thou alone doest great wonders! how great are thy works? how great this work? wherein thou didst (as I may say) create the effect, before the cause. Thou art not limited to the methods of our weak reason, but canst do every thing, according to the council of thine own will, not only by, but without, and contrary to meanes. There is no glory∣ing, no trusting but in thee alone, unto whom all means, and more, are alike subservient!

As in the Creation, during those first three dayes, God made, and con∣tinued the light, and then upon the fourth day, made that light a sun; so in his order of proceeding with his Chil∣dren, he giveth them a three dayes light; the first of nature, when he quickeneth them in their Mothers womb, with a rea∣sonable soul; the second of Grace, when he regenerateth them in the womb of his Church, by his Sanctifying spirit; the third of beatitude, in a state of bliss, when he receiveth their departed

Souls into his rest; and then upon the fourth day (that is, at the general resurrection) when he reuniteth their Souls, and bodies in glory, he gather∣eth this light into a Sun, from which time they shall to all eternity shine forth, as the Sun in the Kingdome of their Fa∣ther.

What a World will that be, when we shall have no Sun again? when we shall need none? nay, when instead of one Sun, there shall be more Suns than there are Stars in the Firmament? when every Saint shall be a Sun, and yet all those Saints (as if they were but so ma∣ny stars) shall receive their light from another Sun of infinite glory; from the glory of God, the Fountain of all light? that light is sown here for the Righteous; O when will the harvest time come? Awake, awake, O my Soul, and con∣template that happy time, whensoever it shall come. It is some anticipation of it, to think upon it before it comes! Watch for that morning, more than they that watch for the morning! But, Lord,

it is not of him that watcheth, no more than of him that willeth, but of thee who shewest mercy! O do thou, by the irra∣diation of thy grace make such a clear day in my Soul, as that I may not on∣ly see thy light here, and receive in it, and walk by it, but be it; so shall I be light in thee, and (according to that expression in thine own word) thou shalt then walk in me! my path shall then be as the shining light, and I shall shine out more and more unto that full, clear and everlastingly perfect day of thy Glory.

MEDITAT. III. Ʋpon my rising out of Bed, and put∣ting on my Cloaths.

SLuggish Soul, how long wilt thou lie lazing? what, yet a little slum∣ber? yet, a little folding of the hands? Awake, they that sleep, sleep in the night, do not fancy thy self to be among the

Antipodes, as if it were night with thee, when it is day with us. If thou wilt but open thy window, thou mayest with shame behold the Sun already mounted above our horizon, and in his silent language seeming to reproach thee, that he hath travelled round about the world but Yesterday, and yet is up before thee this morning! let no sleep, like an unjust Publican, exact more of thy time, then is his due, and make thy dayes shorter, then God hath made them. There is so much life gain∣ed, as is saved out of sleep!

Be not too secure in this condition; whilst thou art drouzing, the devil is hunting; and he hath a way to hunt Souls with Pillowes, and night-caps. Remember he is no sluggard, but will surely roste what he takes in hunting!

How strangely do those people live, that begin their morning at noone, and their noone at night; that turn day into night, and live backward? But it is no wonder to see Owls fly abroad at late hours! O my Soul, God never cre∣ated

thee to live in a feather-bed! life consists in action; idleness is but a living death. And what doth the Lord require of thee; not to lie still; but to arise, and be doing; to walke whilst thou hast light, humbly with thy God, and honest∣ly with thy neighbour, as a child of the day!

Up then my Soul, and cast off the workes of darkness; night clothes are not a fit weare for the day. He, whom thou lovest, calleth thee, do not say, I have put off my coat, how shall I put it on? but without delay, eccho that call, with a lo, I come, to do thy will!

But where are my clothes? O my God, what a beggerly creature am I, that have nothing to put on, but what I am faine to borrow? if it were not for the supply which I receive from a poor worme, from a silly sheep, I could nei∣ther be fine, nor warme. By right the borrower should be servant to the lender; but Lord, thou hast given me domini∣on over these serviceable creditors. How should I at once be humbled under the

sense of mine own indigence, and thank∣fully exalted in the apprehension of thy goodness to me? But what is man? nay (which is worse) what am I? surely I am more brutish then any man; more sottish then those brute creatures, unto whom I am so much indebted. They are not proud of those habiliments which they impart to me, I live upon their col∣lections, and yet am apt to pride my self in this beggery. O my soul, this glorying is not good: what is it, but a glorying in shame? nakedness was the original bravery of our first parents in Paradise, and shall be our last bravery in heaven, when we shall be in the Angels mode. Lord correct this depraved na∣ture in me by thy grace, that I may no longer fashion my self according to my former lusts and vanities, but be con∣formed to that inward dress, which in thy sight is of greatest price; so though mine outside may be plain and bare, I shall be sure to be all Glorious within.

But yet, O my God, thou knowest I have need of raiment, as well as of

food, and other outward accommoda∣tions; and thou art pleased to allow me a providential (though not a sollici∣tous) care, for what I shall put on. I beseech thee so to order my thoughts, that in the pursuit of these things, I may follow thy prescribed method of hus∣bandry; first to seek thy Kingdom, and thy righteousness, and then in the use of good means to trust thee for the rest.

But in what a new case am I, when I am apparelled? how warmed and comforted? blessed be God, that I have not that curse upon me, mentio∣ned in the Prophecy of Haggai, to be cloathed and not warm, those cloaths can∣not but do me good, that are lined with thy blessing!

It is the common opinion, that our cloaths warm us, but the truth is, we warm our cloaths, and they do but keep us warm with our own heat. As it is in this, so it is in all earthly comforts, which have nothing of satisfaction in themselves, but that placency which we

take to be in them, is but a resultance from our own minds, a warmth which we give them. Lord sanctifie these out∣ward things unto me, that, in the fruition of them, I may so use them, as not to abuse them, by looking for that in them, which is only to be found in thee. Thou art the blessing of all blessings; from thee I have all, in thee I enjoy all, and without thee all is nothing?

O my God, it is the desire of my Soul to be dressed and fitted to wait upon thee in the way wherein thou wouldest have me to go, but I dare not think of coming into thy presence in an unseem∣ly Garment; in the nasty rags of the old man; and I have no other sute of mine own but that. O do thou give that hap∣py word of command, to have that filthy Garment taken away from me; and say unto my Soul, behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass away, and I will cloath thee with change of rayment. I be∣seech thee furnish thy poor Creature, out of thy divine wardrobe with those graces that may most adorn my professi∣on:

above all vouchsafe to cloath me with the Garment of mine elder Brother (that is the best Robe) and under that covert grant me thy blessing: so what e∣ver may befal me here, I shall be sure to rise in a happy hour at the last day; when being clothed with his righteousness, I shall be clothed upon with his Glory!

MEDITATION. IV. Ʋpon my retirement into my Closet.

HOw little doth the world know the happiness of a Closet? But it is no wonder, for this happiness is not of the world: and therefore by those that can discern nothing spiritually, it is esteemed as no other, then a de∣light in a sedentary sluggish life, or as no better then a melancholy discontented humour. But my Soul, thou art above these misapprehensions. Go in; shall I say into this room, or rather into this other world? into thy world? for when

thou art abroad, thou art abroad, thou art in a common world, wherein every person hath an inter-right with thee; but here, within the inclosure of these Walls, thou art in a particular world of thine own; and all is thine own.

In this little Monarchy, methinks I may say without offence, Soul take thine ease, and with quiet senses enjoy thine own company, it is something for a man to be his own inmate, to dwell with himself; and no small happiness in that cohabitation to live quietly, and without a dropping house. There is a physical vertue in quietness; some di∣seases in the body, and most distempers in the mind are cured by it; I may add fur∣ther, that there is a heavenliness in it; those Regions that are highest are quiet∣est, and God himself who is higher then the highest, is in the fruition of himself, the most quiescent. O my God, whilst others affect the wings of an Eagle to fly high, let it be my prayer to have the wings of a Dove, to fly away, and be at rest; that being sequestred from the

vexatious vanities of the world, I may enjoy a free conversation with thee in heaven; so shall my quietness be my strength; and this rest a prelibu∣tion of my eternal rest!

But yet my Soul take heed unto thy self in this solitude; it is possible for thee to be in ill company, when thou art alone. Be not rash; but think what thou wouldst think! do not affect a free will in think∣ing; evil thoughts have an evil communi∣cation in them, and may corrupt good manners: slight not vain thoughts; the thought of foolishness is sin; and every foolish thought, as well as every idle word, must be accounted for; bar them out, as much as thou canst, and though they may clamour at it, and challeng a prescription for a thorough fare in thee, and thou art not able altogether to hinder their way, but that they will break thorough, yet never let it be with thy consent, and sufferance, and so long the trespass will be on their side. Above all be sure to give them no lodging; though thou canst not hinder the birds

of the air from flying over thine head yet thou maist keep them from build∣ing, and nestling in thine hair:

But my God, what shall I do? or wherewith shall I come before thee, who have not so much as a good thought to offer unto thee? O do thou work all my thoughts, as well as (in reference to any good) thou doest work all my workes in me: all my suffi∣cency is of thee. Perfect thy strength in my weakness, and I, even when I am weak, shall be made strong.

Methinks this place hath something of a Bethel in it: I may call it the house of God, where I have frequently en∣joyed a sweet and comfortable com∣munion with his divine Majesty; and the gate of Heaven, where I have often knockt, and it hath been opened unto me. From this poor room I can freely, and without disturbance, or interruption look up, and with an eye of faith con∣template the glories of heaven, the fe∣licity of the Saints, the perfection of those tabernacles not made with hands, and be∣hold

those invisibilities, which mortal eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived; from hence, I can look down upon all the workes, that are done under the Sun, and see that they are but as the labours of a company of ants in an ant-hill, where some are emploied to gather in their small provisions, and others are buisied about their eggs, and young ones; and some go up, and some go down, crossing and thwarting one another; and all are in action, and all is about a little heap of dust.

Let the vain world deride these spe∣culations, and retirements; it is, and shall be the delight of my Soul to enjoy both: whereby I may gaine more light to my knowledg, more heat to my af∣fections, and more acquaintance with my God; and from a right estimation of the temporal things which are seen, come to have a sweet fruition of those eter∣nal things which are not seen. In order to this, O thou God of my praiers, and praises, teach me how to pray that I may meditate; and teach me how to meditate

that I may pray; so shall the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight; and thou shalt have the praise of thine own work in me!

MEDITATION. V. Ʋpon the contentment I have in my Books and Study.

HEre is the best solitary company in the World: and in this particu∣lar cheifly excelling any other, that here I am sure to converse with none but wise men; but abroad it is impossible for me to avoid the society of fools: what an advantage have I by this good fel∣lowship, that besides the help which I receive from hence, in reference to my life after this Life, I can enjoy the life of so many Ages before I lived? that I can be acquainted with the passages of three or four thousand years ago, as if they were the weekly occurrences! here, with∣out

travelling so far as Endor, I can call up the ablest spirits of those times; the learnedst Philosophers, the wisest Counsellours, the greatest Generals, and make them serviceable to me; I can make bold with the best Jewels they have in their treasury, with the same freedome that the Israelites borrowed of the Aegyptians, and, without suspiti∣on of Felony make use of them, as mine own. I can hear, without tres∣passing, go into their Vine-Yards, and not only eat my fill of their Grapes for my pleasure; but put up as much as I will in my Vessel, and store it up for my profit, and advantage.

How doth this prospect at once set off the Goodness of God to me, and dis∣cover mine own weakness? his Goodness in providing these helps for the im∣provement of mine understanding; and my weakness in needing them. What a pitiful simple creature am I, that can∣not live to any purpose, without the help of so many other mens brains? Lord, let this be the first Lesson that I learn

from these silent counsellers, to know my own ignorance: other knowledg puf∣feth up, this edifieth.

It was a scoffing, and unhandsome speech in Festus to Paul, that much learn∣ing made him mad: but it was serious∣ly, and sadly said by the prophet Jere∣my, that every man (every idolatrous wicked man) is foolish, or brutish, (which is mad almost) by his own know∣ledg. It is possible for a man to know so much, that at last, by overvalluing his knowledg, he may come to know no∣thing, as he ought to know; and we have an unhappy proof of this, in the ex∣ample of our first parents; who, out of a fond desire to know more then came to their share, transgressed, and thereby brought themselves to that pass, that they know only their own shame, and were ashamed of their own knowledg. Whilst others please themselves in high notions, and speculations, it shall be my study to follow the Apostles rule, and to be wise unto sobriety.

But we have a generation of people

in the world, that are so far from put∣ting themselves upon the hazard of knowing too much, that they affect a kind of Socratical knowledg (though it be the clear contrary way) a knowledg of knowing nothing they hate learning, and wisdom, and understanding with that perfect hatred, that if one could fancy such things to be in paradise, one would think (if I may speak it, as I mean it without profaness) that the Devil could not tempt them to come neer the tree of knowledg; I cannot say these are in a state of innocency, but I am sure they are in a state of simplicity. But among those few persons (especially those of quality) that pretend to look after bookes, how many are there that affect ra∣ther to look upon them, then in them? some covet to have Libraries in their houses, as Ladies desire to have Cupboards of plate in their Chambers, only for shew; as if they were only to fur∣nish their roomes, and not their mindes; if the only having of store of Bookes, were sufficient to improve a man, the Sta∣tioners

would have the advantage of all others; but certainly bookes were made for use, and not for ostentation; in vain do they boast of full Libraries, that are contented to live with empty heads.

In opposition to these extreams, I meet with another sort of people, that delight themselves in reading, but it is in such a desultory way, running from one book to another, as Birds skip from from one bough to another, without de∣sign, that it is no mervaile if they get nothing but their labour for their paines, when they seek nothing, but change, and diversion: they that ride post, can observe but little.

It is in reading, as it is in making many bookes; there may be a pleas∣ing distraction in it, but little or no pro∣fit. I would therefore do in this, as Merchants use to do in their trading; who in a coasting way, put in at se∣veral ports, and take in what Com∣modities they afford, but settle their factories in those places onely, which

are of special note: I would by the by, allow my self a traffick with sundry authors, as I happned to light upon them, for my recreation; and I would make the best advantage that I could of them; but I would fix my study up∣on those only, that are of most impor∣tance to fit me for action, which is the true end of all learning, and for the service of God, which is the true end of all acti∣on. Lord teach me so to study other mens works, as not to neglect mine own; and so to study thy word, which is thy work, that it may be a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path; my can∣dle to work by. Take me off from the curiosity of knowing only to know; from the vanity of knowing only to be known; and from the folly of pretending to know more then I do know; and let it be my wisdome to study to know thee, who art life eternal. Write thy law in my heart, and I shall be the best book here.

MEDITATION. VI. Ʋpon an entertainment of Godly Friends.

WHat a deal of Heaven is there in in this company? methinkes, like Abraham, I entertain Angels; the comfort, and illumination that I re∣ceive from them, hath so much of that society in it. Certainly there is no pleasure in this world comparable to the enjoyment of the Communion of Saints; where good people are com∣pacted, and united together in affecti∣on, and judgment, and interest, as fellow members of one body, which (though many) have but one heart, and one head; and are so one another, that they are members one of another, that they are all one in Christ.

But in the name of wonder, what is it that should be so taking in this company? where is the wine, and the

strong drink? where are the costly oint∣ments, and the Crownes of rosebuds? the Musick, dancing, laughing? the world understands the language of these jol∣lities without the help of an interpre∣ter: But for people to meet, only to talk one another into gravity, and to spend time in speculative discourses of another world, when they might give themselves the pleasure of this: if this be mirth, what doth it? It may seem a strange and an impertinent advice of this great Moralist to his friend Lu∣cilius, that above all things, he should be careful to learn••, how to be merry; one would think there should go no great matter of Philosophy to that: But there is a mistake in it: True mirth is Metaphysical, and supernatural. It is not the crackling of thornes under a pot; a blaze, and a noise, and a nothing; (the laughter of a mad man is not mirth); but it is a severe, and (I may say) a Divine thing. It is an anticipa∣tion of the joyes of Heaven in the de∣lightful society of a good conscience,

when we are alone; and (together with that) of conscientious friends, when we are in company. They are the mer∣ry hearts, that keep the continual Feast. It is one of the Devils lyes, and that of which he hath made as great advantage, as of any, that Religion is a dull flat melancholy thing; whereas in truth, there is no such cleere, defecate mirth, as that which cometh from the Springs above. The Prophet Isaiah, speaking of the coming of our Saviour in the flesh, gave this Character of him, That he should not be sad, (so it is rendered in the vulgar translation) that he should not be of a sullen, retired disposition, but amicable, and free; and it was verified in his conversation. He was anointed with the oyle of gladness, and we have that Spiritual unction from him. Let the men of the world deride this heavenly mirth, as the Covetous Phari∣sees derided the true riches, which Christ spake of, as a fantastical thing; they do but like those, that make them∣selves merry, at the sight of a com∣pany

dancing a farr off, when they cannot hear the musick whereby their gestures and motions are directed, and therefore judge them to be antick, and ridiculous: They take this mirth to be no other then a folly, and laugh at they know not what; because being at such a distance from the godly, they cannot take notice of the heavenly har∣mony, and accord, that is between their orderly conversation, and the aires of Gods spirit, quickening, and inlivening them with joyes unspeakable, and full of glory. Nothing but ignorance is the mother of this misopinion.

But what are these friends, that are so wellcom? are they persons of honour, or interest; is there any thing to be got∣ten by them? the fashion of the world is, to serve the Ball only to those that can return it; and to bid those only, that can bid againe. It is a sad word; Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called; but God hath chosen the foolish, weak, base inconsiderable things of the world, things

that are nothings, to route and confound all humane wisdome and might, and to annul things that are. The Lord seeth not, as man seeth; vainglorious fooles may pride themselves in that, which is none of their own (the vertue and ge∣nerosity of their ancestors) or in that which hath no being at all, but in fancy, riches and estate: It is not flaggs, and pedegree, but a noble heart, that makes a noble person; true goodness is true great∣ness; and Gods blessing, the true riches; he that hath that, hath all ••s slight account as there is made of these good people, and of such as these, they are the Children of the King of heaven, and though pos∣sibly their names may not be extant in the Heralds bookes, they will be found written in the book of life. Our little great ones of the world may think them only fit, to stand at the lower end of the roome, or to sit under the footstoole; but with their good leave, they that shall one day sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the Kingdome of Heaven, are good enough now, to be

guests at the best table upon earth.

How happy are the hours that are spent in such company as this? to speak more properly, they are not spent but gaind: So much time thus redeemed, is so much life clearly gotten; there is a prolongation of life in a holy Conversa∣tion, it is one thing to be in the world, and another to live in it. They only live, that live well. Vitious persons, that give themselves up to their plea∣sures, are dead whilst they live, and are but a kind of walking Ghosts; but the living, the living, they praise God, and they onely live, that do praise him.

There is nothing that hath a greater influence upon our lives, than the com∣pany we keep, generally Men are like that Mercurial Planet, good or bad ac∣cording to their conjunction with others. There is in all societies an attracting, and assimilating quality; and altho thorough the corruption that is predo∣minant in our natures, this is more apparent in the operation of evil, ra∣ther than of Good Company, yet there

is true grace, this Magnetick Vertue will shew it self, and those that are touched with it, will endeavour to work upon others, and to make them like themselves; so Philip will draw Na∣thaniel; Andrew will draw Peter, and Peter (when converted) wil strength∣en his Brethen. And of this the worst times are the best Witnesses; when tho∣rough the common opposition of wick∣ed men, the affections of those that are good, are the more inflamed each to other: for as Roses and Garlick set near together, do by extraction of contrary juices out of the Earth be∣come both, in their several kinds, the stronger sented; and the Roses are the more sweet and oderate, by the fetide and stinking neighbourhood of the Garlick; so by the contrary workings of opposite parties, the Good are made very Good, and the Bad very Bad; and those that are good, are meliorated, and imbettered, even by the illness of those that are bad. O my Soul be wa∣ry with whom thou dost associate; it

may be discretion to carry a fair civi∣lity to those that are without, but let thy delight be fixed upon the Saints that are in the Earth; the touch of their conversion will derive vertue to thee. Be not conformed to the Men of the world, but let their contrary qualities serve, as by a spiritual Antiperistasis, to strengthen thy vertue, and to make it the more compact in it self; so if thou canst not amend others, thou shalt be sure however to be amended thy self.

But alas, what are all worldly com∣forts? this good fellowship will not hold. We cannot sit by it, like those long lived Fathers before the flood, who might meet, and be merry together two or three hun∣dred years, and part with a promise to see one another againe so many hun∣dred yeares after. We are but of Yester∣day, and know not what to morrow may bring forth; a few yeares, or months, or possibly a less time, may determine all our jollity. This were sad indeed, if we had no hope, but having that an∣chor hold, we may comfort one ano∣ther

with this, that wherever we are separated, we can enjoy the Communi∣on of one anothers praiers, and meet to∣gether at the Throne of Grace: And tho death may part us here for a while, it will be but with a good night one to another, as when we go to bed, and to morrow we shall meet never to part. In the mean time, O my Soul think what a blessing it is to have the eternal God to be thy friend, who in the defailliance of all these transitory comforts, will not faile to make up all losses with him∣self. But will God indeed dwell with men on the earth? will the high and lof∣ty one that inhabiteth eternity, vouchsafe to humble, and abase himself so low, as not only to take notice of, but in an in∣finite condescention to enter into cove∣nant, into friendship with poor mortal sinful creatures? with such a despicable worme as I am? to call me friend, as he doth those that obey his commands? what? friend worme? friend dust? O the depth! Lord, what is man? what am I, poor no man, a nothing, that

thou so regardest me? O my God, I am unworthy to be called thine, in any relation; unworthy to be reckon∣ed in the number of thine hired Ser∣vants, much more to be accounted in the rank of thy friends; but it is thy pleasure to call things that are not, as if they were, and such is the influence of thy power, that by vertue of that call, thou canst make things to be, what they were not. O let the power of thy gracious vocation have a perfect work upon me to change me, and I shall be changed, to convert me, and I shall be converted; so though by nature, I am enmity against thee, by grace I shall be reconciled to thee; I shall then fear thee and thy goodness; shall fear and love thee; and I shall love those that are conformable to thy goodness, because I fear thee; I shall not only have fel∣lowship with thine excellent ones here upon earth, but together with them enjoy society with thee O Father, Son, and holy spirit to all eternity in hea∣ven.

MEDITAT. VII. Ʋpon the sight of a full Table.

LOrd do not hold it a presumption in thy poor dust, and ashes, that I humbly desire, as thy Prophet Jere∣my did, to talk with thee; what is man, that thou takest knowledge of him? thy word is mine answer, that tells me, it is a pittiful thing, compounded, and made up of sin, and corruption; its Father was earth, and its Grand-father was nothing; it walketh in a vain shew, and is, in its greatest estate, a Lye; and at its best, altogether vanity, which is so much less then nothing before thee. But behold I have taken upon me to speak unto thee, O let not my Lord be angry, if I ask thee now, what man is not, that thou makest such account of him, and so providest for him? thine other creatures, even those that are the cheif of thy wayes, are contented with their

single portions; thy Behemoth is satis∣fied with that ordinary which the mountaines bring him forth, and he lookes no further; so is the Leviathan pleased with his recreation in the great and wide sea, and that element is e∣nough for him. But man (as if all were too little for his grandeur) hath no bounds, thou hast put all things under his feet, Earth, Sea, Aire, Fire, pay contribution to his subsistance, and comfort; what couldst thou have done un∣to him that thou hast not done? O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name? all thy workes praise thee; how should man praise thee, for whose service thou hast made all thy workes? what a deal of labour is here for the mouth? what a concurrence of art with nature, to please the gluttony, not only of the mouth, but of the eye? people affect an inge∣nuity in luxury, as if their wits lay in their bellies and not in their braines. It is not enough to have good meat, if it have not a rellish of the East-Indies; it must be so spiced, that an Aegyptian

would think it were rather imbalmed to be buried, and kept for Mummy, then seasoned to be eaten; it must be so di∣versisied and so disguised in the dressing, that every dish must be a riddle, as if it were a special point of reputation for a man to eat he knowes not what: If our Forefathers could see our hachees, and olliaes, and hodgpodges, and such like commixtures, as we make of se∣veral meats together, they would take them to be no better, then the dis∣charges of full stomacks, and think that, like doggs, we affected to eat our meat twice.

But to what purpose is this waste? how many empty stomacks might this super∣fluity have filled? possibly less at the table, and more at the door, might have done better. Certainly, we are not the better for it: this high feeding doth but cloud the understanding with fumes, and vapours, and pampers lust, and breeds ill humours, and makes pro∣vision for wormes, and ends in excre∣ment; and who would place any feli∣city

in that, which being received in∣to him, must pass at last by so ignomini∣ous a way from him? But for prevention of all surfeiting, the witty folly of this time hath found out another way, how to make costly entertainments, and no bodyes belly the fuller for them; an art to furnish a table with nothing, but no∣thing; with quelque choses, and appari∣tions of meat. This is perfectly to spend money for that which is not bread; and it is justly punished in the dissatisfacti∣on that followes it; for, as in a dream of a feast, so here, a man seemeth to eat, and to drink, but after all is done his Soul is empty and faint, and crav∣ing. What is this, but to play with Gods blessings, as little children play with their meat, when they have weak, and squaimish, or no stomacks? this nicety, and wantonness is far from the plainness, and simplicity of the good old world, when a shoulder of mutton was set by, for the special enter∣tainment of a King, in designation;

and a peece of veale, a dish of butter, a mess of milk, and a few cakes baked upon the hearth was accounted a fit welcome, and treatment for Angels.

I am not so straight laced, as not to allow a convenient latitude in the use of Gods Creatures; not only for necessi∣ty, but for comfort, and delight, a due regard being had to the quality of per∣sons, and to the emergency of occasions. Our ever blessed Saviour stuck not to honour diverse festival intertainments with his gracious presence. But that which is a scandal to me, is the sinful abuse of this liberty; when plaine Maister Nabal will needs make good his name in feasting it like a King; and when nothing less will serve Dives then fairing deliciously every day: it is no wonder if his end were damnation, whose belly was his God. We are com∣manded to rejoyce in the lawful use of the creatures, but we are for∣bidden to abuse them either thorough profuseness or wantonness or cruelty. What an ugly sight is it to see men eat

not only as to live, but as if they lived only to eat? to see them eat, as if they were at day labour, and in their voca∣tion; turning Gods curse into wanton∣ness, when with the paines they take, they eat their bread in the sweat of their faces. O my God, what shall I say, or what shall I not say of them? Their throats are open Sepulchers, wherein to∣gether with their graces, and parts, and estates, they bury themselves, in themselves. They are no better then living vaults, or sewers, only of use for the conveiance of filth, and ordure: such beastly creatures, as it is a hard matter to speak of them in cleanly terms. Who can take in a Dunghill without offence?

In opposition to this excess, there is a∣nother generation of people, that run into a contrary extream, affecting a shew of wisdome in humility, and neglect of the body; who refuse and reiect Gods blessings, out of a seeming fear least they should abuse them; and upon that account abstaine from meates, which

he hath created to be received with thanks∣giving; but who hath required this at their hands? every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, that comes from his divine bounty. Ahaz was never a wit the more tenderer conscienced, for refusing to ask a signe when it was offered him. We do but provoke Gods patience, when we will not accept the free tenders of his goodness,

Lord keep thy servant in a middle condition, between luxuriancy, and penury; feed me with food conveni∣ent for me; that as on the one side, I may not thorough fulness deny thee; so on the other, I may not thorough want be reduced to take irregular wayes. Give me such a mannerly appetite (as to the things of this world) that consider∣ing diligently what thy providence hath set before me, I may rest contented and satisfied with thy carving, without reaching over the board for a better bit, or rudely snatching it from my neigh∣bours trencher; so shall I in the middest

of all straights enjoy a sufficiency, and in that enough have as good as a feast. If enough be too little, too much will not be enough.

MEDITATION. VIII. Ʋpon a fit of the Gout.

LOrd, when thou with rebukes doest correct man for iniquity, what a moth is he in thine hands? and how easily crushed? Eliphaz saith he is crushed before the moth; so that accord∣ing to his opinion, the moth, should be the better man of the two. I am here a lecture of mortality to my self; and yet in truth, I can hardly expound my self, and say what I am, in this condition. I am an infirmity of the world, rather then any part of it; a living Hospital; or, to speak more properly, the Ghost of my departed self; here I dwelt once, but now, here I lie, and am mine own monument, with the figure of a man, and

nothing within, but a dead mans bones, and corruption. How near nothing am I? I have so much of an idol in me, which is nothing, as I have feet, and walk not. I can neither go, nor stand nor hardly stir, but as my pain quickens me; and yet I cannot without a suf∣fering, lie still. My pain is my life. O my Soul, when the pillars, upon which the house standeth, begin to faile, it is high time for thee, to think of remov∣ing.

May I say, why am I thus? whether should I go to enquire, O my God, but unto thee? I know thou doest no∣thing, but upon just grounds, and for good ends. Thou art righteous, but I am a sinful creature: I do remember my faults this day: How I have loved to wander in the world: My steps have turned out of thy way; and mine heart hath walked after mine eyes; and I have polluted, and stained the garments of my profession. Tis therefore just with thee, to punish me as a fool, and a va∣grant; to stock, and whip me; to shut

me up, and to make me smart for it, as children are shut up, and correct∣ed, when they have run abroad, and durtied themselves. I have sinned, what shall I do unto thee, O thou Preserver of men? I have borne chastisement, and by thy grace I will offend no more.

It is no less then a signal mercy, that I am not taken away at once, with a suddain stroke, by a dead palsie, or appo∣plexy, or some such speeding disease; that I am not chased out of the world, as a vision of the night, and hurled out of my place, as with a storme; that I do not go down in a moment to the grave, in mine unrepented sins; but that I have time given me, by this vi∣sitation, to sit my self for mine ap∣pointed change. Lord Sanctify this mercy to me, that whilst I do live, I may indevour to spend my little rem∣nant of time here so, as I would spend mine eternity hereafter, in glorifying thee; and then let death come never so suddainly, it will come but like a friend; the sooner, the better wellcome!

But why should I be so much moved with the sense of this weakness? there is no new thing happened unto me, but what is ordinarily incident to my years. This, and other the like in∣firmities, are in the course of any con∣siderable age, but as the accidents of dust, or durt, or raine in a long journey; which every rational man will expect, and reckon upon before hand. Lord give me a true sense of the frailty of my condition, and I shall no more wonder at mine infirmities, then I wonder at my life.

But what do I speak of infirmites? I may rather justly bless God for the long continued health, which for so ma∣ny years I have formerly enjoyed, then grudge at my present suffering. I have been a young man a great while, and therefore it is but reason I should be contented to be an old man a little while: what? shall I receive good at the hands of God, and shall I not receive evil?

But why do I miscall my Gout? shall a heathen Philosopher Possidonius be

able, upon the strength of a natural resolution, to protest in the middest of his pain in this infirmity, that no ex∣tremity should ever make him confess it to be an evil; and shall not grace have so much power upon me, as to make me acknowledge that it is good for me to be thus chastened? shall I fly out into impatience when God corrects me for my profit? they that will not lie still when God whips them, do but gaine the more stripes; and by their impati∣ence make it appear that they were not corrected enough before.

Nay Lord, I bless thee, not only for thy staff but for thy rod, which al∣though it be one of thy smartest ones, and by the continuance whereof I am brought thus low, yet I find the end thereof to be dipt in hony, tending to mine edification, not to my distructi∣on. This very infirmity under which I lie, hath the reputation to be of a medicinal nature; as it contracteth o∣ther malignant humours into one channel, and spendeth them with it self, so let

all thy chastisements, O Lord, ope∣rate upon me, for the purging of mine iniquity, and the taking away of my sin, and I shall reckon them in the num∣ber of my blessings.

What though these paines be vio∣lent? they are the less likely to continue; either they will end themselves, or end me; the difference is not much; either way there will be an end, and that shortly. The life of man is of few dayes, and full of trouble: And therefore when I think how short my time is, I am contented, because it is so full of trouble, and when I consider how troublesome it is, I am comforted with the thought, that it is so short.

But now Lord, what waite I for? my hope, my only hope, is in thee. Shall I say, remove thy stroke away from me? let me alone? far be that from me; deliver me, O my God, from that penal impunity; and vouchsafe rather to continue thy gracious rod upon me, so long as thou shalt see it good; for so long I am sure it shall be for my

good; and I shall look upon it as a dear blessed gout to me. Shew thy mercy to me, as thou didst to thy Children of Israel, in punishing mine inventions: Chasten me, so thou love me; scourge on, so thou receive me, and it shall be my consolation. O give me not only strength to bear these paines, but thankfulness for them, and wisdome to improve by them; that I may neither despise thy chastening, nor be weary of thy correction: So shall thy rod (like the rod of Aaron) be productive, and not only blossome, but bring forth fruit unto me, even the peaceable fruit of righteousness. Make me such when I am well, as I would be when I am sick. In all conditions, let thy grace be suffi∣cient for me; perfect thy strength in my weakness, and imperfection; and then I shall take pleasure in my paines, and glory in mine infirmities; and be able to say with that great Apostle, when I am weak I am strong, and when I am sick, I am well.

MEDITATION. IX. Ʋpon my recovery out of the Gout.

IS this a recovery, or a resurrection? It was but a while ago, that I had two feet in the grave, and that I was ready to claime my last kindred with wormes, and corruption; and in what an Eagle condition am I now? how renewed, or rather resuscitated? me thinkes I am (as if I had outlived my death) mine own surviour, the posterity of my self: Certainly life doth not consist in living, but in well being; health is the life of life, and without that, we have but a name that we live, but we are dead. There is nothing to be preferred before the health of the body, but holiness, which is the heal••h of the Soul. O Lord, thou art the God of life, and death; thou killest, and thou makest alive; thou woundest, and thou healest; thou, even thou art he, and

there is no God with thee. I drew near unto destruction, but upon my cry unto thee, it pleased thee to send thy Soveraine word to heal me, and I was healed. O that I could therefore praise thee for thy goodness, not only with my lips, but with that life, which thou hast so often re-given me. The living, the living, he shall praise thee, as I do this day, and as I desire to do all my remaining dayes.

But am I so perfectly well? I may ask my self how I do, without offence: and it is not an impertinent inquiry. Blessed be God, my house of clay is in a comfortable measure repaired and made tenantable again for a while. But how is all within? how doth the principal one (so Job calleth the Soul)? it is my Soul, that is my self; my body is but mine old sute new mended; the sheath of my Soul, (as it is stiled by Daniel); the health, and prosperity of that, would signify little to me, except (according to the tenor of St. Johns wish unto Gains) my Soul also prosper; a sick Soul

in a sound body, is the worst constitution that can be. It is written in the pro∣phecy of Isaiah, touching the restor∣ation of Jerusalem, that the inhabitants thereof shall not say, I am sick, for the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity. O Lord, I am sick till mine iniquity be forgiven. Thou hast shewed mercy to my worldly part, to my lay part; O heal my Spiritual part; which needs thy mercy most, and will rellish it best. Untill that be done, I am sick, though never so well. But admitting (with all humble thankful∣ness) my present being in perfect health; I have no reason to think it will continue long; all things under the Sun are subject to vicissitude, and change; and whilst that I say so, I am changed my self. My very health, is but a brooding of sickness, and every sickness is a pang of death. My whole life is no other then a gradual dying: I remember the first time I died, was when mine infancy expired in my youth; the next was, when my youth ended in

middle age; which was followed by the determination of that, in mine old age; and yet I have no less then two deaths more to look for; the depar∣ture of mine old age in death it self; and the death of death, in the death of Christ. Who would covet such a pit∣tiful life, which the longer it lasteth, the oftener it dieth? nay which in truth is so far from a true lasting, that it taketh up no time at all; there is a time to be born, and a time to die, saith the Preacher, but there is no time assigned to live, because our whole life, is but a time of dying.

If I had a lease of health for tearm of life, I could not but look upon it (at my years) as near worne out. When I was at my best, I was but grass; now that the flower of that grass is faded, in this dried, withered condition, what am I better then meer hay, and stubble? O my Soul, be not secure upon this re∣covery, there is nothing that doth sooner draw on sickness, then a fond presumpti∣on of health: many had never been

sick so soon, if they had not been well too soon. Health requires a good hus∣bandry. But in a special manner con∣sider how it is possible for that body to be well long, that hath but a short time to be. Wouldst thou redeem this time, and so extend it? labour to be good. Vertue is not subject to time, but will out-live death it self. What is the health of my body, but the strength of my prison? who would glory in that? I read of some pious men, that have lamented their recovery out of sick∣ness, as finding themselves to be worse when they were better, and best when they were ill. Lord look upon thy poor Prisoner of hope, and in thy good time deliver me well out of my self; and in the mean time make me truly thankful for any comfort, or accom∣modation that I enjoy in my present condition. Without thy Sanctifying grace thy mercies are judgements; and this health will be but a killing prosperity to me.

Health is one of God's Talents,

which they, unto whom it is commit∣ted, are to account for; and if they do not improve it to his service, they might be sick better cheap. That health is pe∣stilential, that makes the possessor thereof luxurious and disorderly. O my God, let it be my care to devote my life, and particularly my health (the best of my life) unto thee, from whom alone I derive both health and life. Bed∣rid oblations are but the offerings of the refuse. I confess mine are little bet∣ter than such, at this time of mine age, but my trust is in the goodness of thine eye, that thou wilt not in any wise reject those that come unto thee, though at the eleventh hour. O my God, and most gracious Father, sanctifie all thy dispensations unto me, and then they shall co-operate together for my good. My reins shall instruct me in the night season; my Gout shall make me run unto thee; and my recovery shall inable me to minister unto thee, as Pe∣ters wives Mother did, so soon as her fever had left her. Blessed be thy

name, that I have been ill, and thy name be praised that I am well. Let me never live longer than I praise, and bless, and glorifie thee.

MEDITATION. X. Ʋpon my imprisonment.

WHat is there in an imprisonment, that should make that condi∣tion so formidable? it is not the un∣couthness of it (we cannot say this is new) for it is common to all: we are all Prisoners by Nature, during life; even before we were born, we suffered a confinement in the womb that bear us; lying for so many months as we lived there, inclosed in the lowest parts of the earth in a polluted, dark, narrow Rome, where we could not so much as be turned, without hazard of our lives, and when we came into the world, we were but removed (as by a writ) to another prison; or rather we were born

(like Snails) with our prisons upon our backs. Our Souls, (which are the man in us) being captivated in our bodies, and so cooped up, that they are disabled thereby to act or operate, further then, as through a grate, according to the nar∣row latitude of our corporeal organs. What is the whole World, but as it were a common Jail, wherein we are all imprisoned? and however some may have a larger and better acco∣modation therein than others, yet all are within the rule. I read of Nicolo Donato Duke of Venice, that he was foretold by an Astrologer (who had calculated his Nativity) that he should die in a noble Prison; which was after∣wards applied to the restrained, limited honour of that Dukedom, wherein he ended his dayes: to let the Prediction pass; I may truely affirm, that the greatest, and most resplendent fortunes in the world, are no better than com∣modious captivities, and honourable Pri∣sons; and they that enjoy them may account themselves in the condition of

that Greek Emperour Michael Balbus, who took possession of his Chair of State, with a pair of Shackles about his heels.

But what are the inconveniencies of a Prison? I deny not but that there may be a just resentment of the loss of liberty He that doth not feel it, wanteth sense; but he that cannot bear it, wanteth reason, if not grace; what∣ever the suffering be, impatience doth but aggravate it. When we lie like wilde Bulls in a net, fretting and strug∣ling against the providence of God, we do but impester, and intangle our selves the more, and (like those sot∣tish Thracian Captives, that * 1.1 brake their teath with biting and gnawing their chaines) by our impatience we do both punish our own ferity, and thereby, make sport to our enemies.

Is the bare confinement, a matter so to be startled at? We may as well think the fixed Stars unhappy, because they cannot wander. Things are best kept when they are lockt up; many men

have been preserved by this meanes from greater dangers, which they might have incurred, if they had been at li∣berty; and their imprisonment hath been really a safe custody unto them. How ever, it is for Children to cry, when they may not go abroad. True liberty is to be found within doores. What tho my body be confined? my Soul is not. I may possibly be disabled by this re∣straint, from performing good actions, but that cannot hinder me from enjoy∣ing good thoughts; from communing with mine own heart; from having my conver∣sation with God in Heaven. Thoughts are free. Let the imprisonment be ne∣ver so close, and straight, if I be not straightend in my self, I am at liberty; it is not the narrowness of the roome, but of the mind, that makes the pris∣on incommodious; no man suffers by it, but he that is unwilling to suffer; for he that will do, what he must do, is a free man, because he does what he will: a free imprisonment, is better then a servile liberty. They are the prisoners in truth,

that are captivated to their own lusts and passions, and interests. It is not evil to suffer, but to do evil.

But I am hear immured in an obscure base condition: What then? true vertue is a jewel, that can give a lustre in the dark. If the worth of a meer moral man (as was Socrates) could be thought suf∣ficient to take off the ignominy, and reproach of a prison, upon the account of his lying there, how much more should the honour of a Christian illust∣rate, and dignify the basest Dun∣geon?

But I am separated and cut off from the society of the world: The further off the better, except the world were bet∣ter. What is there in the world, but the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life? and what can there be more proper for remedy of these e∣vils, then this confinement? wherein, as to the first, my body is sufficiently kept under, and brought into subjection; for although I cannot say, that I am lodged as our King Edward the Second

was, in a vault, among dead carcasses; yet in a civil way I am buried here, and am but a kind of a living Corps; a mortification to my self. As for mine eyes they are secured from the tempta∣tion of any vain objects, having little else to behold, but bare old, ruinous walls; the emblems of mine own de∣cayed condition; and in this desolate, forlorn habitation, what exercise can there be for pride, except it be in a holy way, to despise the world? company, and not solitude is the Scene of pride.

O my Soul, is it not an happiness to be freed from these snares? wilt thou be dis∣quieted for being shut out of a pest-house? What, though thou beest as a Sparrow a∣lone, and that no eye take notice of thee? It is for players to be out of counten∣ance, when no body sees them act; a good Conscience is a thousand spectators. Nay, be not deceived, thou art not alone, when thou art most alone: God is here, and he that is higher then the highest, re∣gardeth thee; Christ so with thee, that he is in thee; persecuted in thee; and af∣flicted

in thine affliction; the Holy Ghost is thy comforter; the Angels are thy Guardians, they keep thee, they Minister unto thee; and is not this good company?

But there is a dishonour that sticks to this condition; which is usually fol∣lowed with contempt, and scorn: True, if the cause of committment were dishonorable; if I suffered as a male∣factor: But when the cause is Gods, and that I suffer for doing well, I am so far from being ashamed of my chain, that I glory in it, as in a favour from Gods own hand. What have I, that I have not received? my very sufferings, as well as the grace of believing, are to be reckoned among my receipts; to me it is given, not only to believe, but to suffer. As to the contempt of the world, there is nothing more contemptible; no man is sub∣ject to that, but he that lyes under a con∣tempt within himself. Retain thine own dignity, O my Soul, and thou art above it.

But possibly thou maist shrink at the

apprehension of poverty, and want, which are usual concomitants of a captive e∣state; be not cast down, nor disquiet∣ed with this. He that hath himself, and is in possession of his own Soul, hath lost nothing. I am yet richer then I was when I came into the world. Blessed be God, I have yet all that Jacob could wish; bread to eat, and rayment to put on; whilst many better then I have not so much. Whatsoever is more then that, is more then needs. Job gave God thanks, when he had nothing before him; Paul, when he had nothing, had all. I can claim nothing from God, as due unto me, but the wages of my sins; and that is something worse then nothing. Be thankful, O my Soul, for what thou hast; be humbled for what thou hast not: in all conditions labour to be con∣tent; and in that contentment, with Gods blessing, thou wilt find all.

But it is the continuance of an impri∣sonment, that may seem tedious, and be grievous: Certainly that cannot be long; for the life of man, is but of short

continuance: It can be but like an ill lodging in an Inn, and we should bear it accordingly; what tho the night be long; it is but a night, and we shall be gone in the morning. Remember, O my Soul, that a long imprisonment is not so bad, as an everlasting one. Bless God that thou art not laid in chaines of dark∣ness, with the Devil, and his Angells, reserved unto the judgment of the last dreadful day. Be not weary of well suf∣fering, no more then of well doing: think of the glorious Army of Martyrs; How did many of them languish with a desire to be in thy condition, and reckoned themselves in prison, till they were in prison? thou hast not yet resisted unto blood, as they did; thou art in the hands of thine heavenly Physitian, who best knowes thine infirmity, and thy constitution, and complexion, and what is fittest for thee, beyond all that thou canst think; what if he, seeing that sharp, and quick remedies be not so proper for thee, and that thou canst not bear them, do put thee in this slow

course of Physick; to spend thy disease by a strict, restrained diet? wilt thou pre∣sume to dispute his prescription? do not, but obey, and follow it.

But what if this imprisonment should be but praecursory to a further, a greater, and it may be a capital punish∣ment? I may consider in what hands I am; that I am under the power of a frantick People, that have cast off their obedience to all lawful authority, and know not how to weigh out Justice un∣to any, without putting their sword in∣to the scales: O my Soul thou mayest do wisely to look beforehand thorough thy danger, to the uttermost end thereof; and to arm thy self against the worst that may be; but in taking this per∣spective, make use of thy reason, not of thy passion: a provident care, and a soli∣citous despondency are two things. Do not punish thy self with may be's. Do not antidate afflictions, and make thy self miserable at present, by an appre∣hension that thou mayest come to be miserable hereafter. He that in a ti∣merous,

solicitous way takes thought for to morrow, labours under that suffering to day, which he apprehendeth for to morrow; and cannot but fear more then he should, because he fears sooner then he should; He doth in a sort put the lye upon our blessed Saviour, as if the evil of the day were not sufficient unto it. These querulous fancies argue an un∣fixedness of heart, as the creaking of a board sheweth it to be loose, and not well fastened. The Moralists can tell us in this case, that there is nothing more easily deceived, then humane foresight: That in such future contingencies (as it is observed in acute diseases) our pre∣dictions are very uncertain; that there is a levity in evil, as well as in good fortune; both alike subject to vicissitudes, and changes, and neither of them long lasting; that we many times apprehend things to come, that do not come, and that our expectations do as often fail us in our fears, as in our hopes; that in dangers imminent, our fear of them, may exceed the dangers we fear; death

it self may be overfeared, so that by running from it, we may run into it. (Nabal died, for fear of dying); that those hazards that threaten us most, may break up of themselves, as we see the clouds that gather, and look black up∣on us, do often blow over without a shower; that great appearances of evil are some times averted by petty accidents, as some say, that lightening may be put by with the wind of a mans hat; and that it is good therefore to intermix hope with fear, and fear with hope, so to contem∣per, and ballance one affection with another. But these Philosophers are like Meteors, something above earth, and a great deal below Heaven: O my Soul, have faith in God, and let thine heart be fixed on him, and thou shalt not be afraid of evil tidings; thou shalt never be mov∣ed. Take no thought for the morrow, as to the evil thereof, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of it self. Thou art a poor captive exile, yet do not make hast thorough unbeleif to be loo∣sed; who art thou that fearest the fury

of the Oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy, who shall himself be destroyed and made as grass? and where is the fu∣ry of the Oppressor? O my God, my time is in thine hand, and what can man do unto me? nay what can the Devil do? He may, by a divine permission, for a season (if need be) cast me into prison; but it shall be only to try and purifie, and whiten me. It is not in his power to do me so much hurt, but for my greater good. He cannot take my liber∣ty and my life both from me; but in taking the one, he must give me the other; he cannot take my life, but withal he must restore me my liberty; and that in such a way as he can never take it a∣way from me more. The worst that he can do, is but that which is best of all; and therefore at what time I am afraid, I will trust in God.

Lord sanctifie this dispensation to me (this rod of thine own appoint∣ment) and teach me to understand the language of it. I confess I have abused my former liberty to a licentiousness, and

therefore this restraint is but a due re∣ward unto me, and the proper wages of my sin. O my God, unto thee belong∣eth mercy, for thou hast rendred to me according to my work. It is of thy never failing compassion, that I am not consu∣med. Thou art merciful in thy justice, and just in thy mercy. O take what vengeance thou wilt of mine inventions, so thou forgive my sin; lay what bands soever it shall please thee upon my body, so thou free my soul, and inlarge my heart to run the way of thy Commandments. Give me not only a patient, but a thank∣〈…〉〈…〉 sense of any sufferings, which I may, or do undergo, for the advancement of thy glory; and let me never think my penny too little, which I receive from thee, if it be accompanied with the ho∣nour of bearing the heat of the day in thy service; but give me the grace to look upon that honour, as the best part of my pay; and until the time, that thy Word do come for my deliverance, let thy Word try me, so shall I at last come out gold; in the mean while, in the worst of Pri∣sons,

I shall be thy free-man, which is the best and most noble of all conditions.

MEDITAT. XI. Ʋpon my Release.

WHen the Lord turned again my captivity I was like them that dream. Me thought I had been made a Prisoner for divers years, by a tu∣multuary violence; and in that con∣dition tossed, like a ball, from one place to another; remote from my re∣lations; where I was as unknown, yet well known; as dying, and yet living; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; and me thoughts up∣on the sudden, all these as it were suf∣ferings vanished, and I was restored to my liberty, to my family, and friends a∣gain. At the first, like Peter, I was in a manner intraunced, as if I had seen a Vision, and I could hardly beleive mine eyes; but recollecting my self,

I found sufficient reason to acknow∣ledge, as that great Apostle did, that the Lord had sent his Angel, and delive∣red me out of the hand of mine enemies, and from all the expectation of those that hated me. What shall I do, or what shall I say unto thee, O thou preserver of men? thou art exalted above all thanksgiving and praise. Lord, open my lips, and I shall be inabled at once, both to praise thee for this mercy, and to praise thee for opening my lips, and inabling me to praise thee.

How sweet is liberty after a restraint? certainly a prosperous condition is never so well relish'd as after an affliction; as wine is then best tasted, when we have first tasted a bitter Olive.

But as hony is good, and yet in the excess thereof nauseous: So liberty (how sweet soever in it self) may (if taken beyond the measure of suffici∣ency) draw on a furfet of licentiousness. It is in that, as Physicians say it is in health; a high degree thereof may be dan∣gerous. O my Soul, labour to mode∣rate

thine affections in all conditions; and now that God hath been pleased to fill thy cup again, pray for a steddy hand, that thou maist carry it without spilling: Otherwise, this suddain change, from such a confinement, to such an inlagement, will be but like a suddain good signe immediatly after a bad one, which (according to the old rule of divination by the intrails of beasts) was accounted to be of unlucky Signifi∣cation; it may be a prognostick, that a worse thing will happen unto thee. In all time, not only of my tribulation, but of my weal, and prosperity, good Lord de∣liver me.

But it may be a moot point, whether I am much safer now, then I was before. My former restraint was in the nature of a safegard, or of a harbour to me, where though I were in a manner land∣lockt, yet I lay secure, and out of the wind: now that I am abroad, I may say I have more Sea roome, but withall I am more exposed to foul weather, then I was before. There is no condition

under the Sun, so purely, and simply good, but that it hath an allay of evil in it, and that to such a proportion, that (as it is in base mony) the allay is, for the most part, more then the true mettal.

But is liberty then so indifferent a thing, that there should be but a mea∣suring cast between it and imprison∣ment? there must needs be a wider difference between them, then so; for it is said, that God doth not willingly greive the Children of men, to crush un∣der his feat the Prisoners of the earth, but that he hath pleasure in the prosperity of his Servants; and therefore in their liberty, without which there can be but little taste in prosperity.

The greatest blessings that come from the hand of God, are characteriz∣ed by this blessing: The Gospel is stiled a Proclamation of liberty to the captives, and an opening of the prison to them that are bound; the Spirit of God is termed a free Spirit, and where that is, there is said to be liberty; we are called unto li∣berty

and commanded to stand fast in it; we shall be judged by the law of li∣berty; this as to our Spiritual condition. And as to our outward freedom, it may be a sufficient argument of the value that God sets upon it, that he laid a particular command upon his people of Israel, that they should be tender of one anothers liberty; and to that end, bound them to the observation of the seventh, and fiftieth years, for the re∣lease, and manumission of those that were held under service; and that he pu∣nished those violators thereof in the Siege of Jerusalem, with so much se∣verity; by proclaiming a liberty to the Sword, Pestilence, and Famine against them for it: Liberty is in it self an in∣estimable blessing, and such a jewel as every man may set his own price upon it, and it is worth it to him; if we cannot enjoy it as we would, or know not how to bear and use it, as we should; it is either our own unhappiness, or our fault: The old bottles are to be blam∣ed, and not the new wine.

But what is liberty? there may be a mistake in that, the Apostle speaketh of some in his days, that talked much of liberty and promised it to others, whilst they themselves were the Servants of cor∣ruption; there may be a servility, un∣der an ostentation of liberty. They that are captivated to their own inordi∣nate affections are no better then Slaves, let their quality be otherwise what it will. True liberty doth not consist in a power over others, but in a command over our selves. He is not a freeman that can do what he will, but he that will do what he should; and who is a law unto himself, and can rule his own Spirit: Neither can that be called properly a liberty, which is an obstinate opposition of lawful authority; such an inflexibility, as will bow to nothing: We do not say that Lions and Wolves are at liberty in their woods, but that they run wild there; and so for those despisers of Dominion that will run their own irregular wayes, and think (as God spake

ironically of the Babel builders) that no∣thing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do, they may be said to be rather Savage, and brutish, then free. The best is, they are, both the one, and the other, alike in this, as well as in their ferity, that as they have not the will to obey, so they have not the wit to command, and therefore break, and divide among themselvs, and settle nothing. God who hath determined the bounds of our habitations, hath likewise set bounds unto our liber∣ties, beyond the which they that are proudest, and swell themselves highest, are not to pass.

I have read of King Agrippa, that be∣ing restored to his liberty by Claudius, after a long imprisonment under Ti∣berius, he consecrated his chain to God in the Temple at Jerusalem, in memory of his former suffering and in recognition of Gods mercy to him in his deliverance: The example is good, and carries a good light with it. And now Lord what shall I render unto thee for the like

mercy in this inlargement of my conditi∣on? Shall I offer up my chain unto thee? Lord, accept my whole self, body, soul, subsistence, the service of my all, as an entire oblation and thank-offering devo∣ted to thy Glory.

O my Soul, praise thou the Lord, and all that is within me, bless his holy name, who hath heard thy groaning, and re∣deemed thee from destruction, and brought forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noon day. Rejoyce in this day of thy prosperity, but withal consider, that there is no day so clear, but may be overcast before night; the clouds may return again after the rain. Be not secure, but walk circum∣spectly, least if thou use this liberty for an occasion to carnal ends, and for a cloak of maliciousness, thy last state prove worse than thy first. Thy Per∣son is now at liberty; let not thy Pas∣sions be so too, but keep them under restraint, so shalt thou lead thy captivi∣ty captive. Lord, vouchsafe to inlarge my heart, not that I may walk in the

counsel of the ungodly, but that I may pursue the way of thy commandments. O lead me into thy truth; thy word is truth, thy son is thy word; and if thy Son do make me free, I shall be free in∣deed.

MEDITATION. XII. Ʋpon the sight of a fair House.

WHat a goodly Fabrick is here? Our first Parents were never so housed. For ought that doth appear, they took no more care at first for build∣ing, than the Birds or Beasts did: there were then no Royal Pallaces, for the ambitious Spider to weave in; but Na∣ture was the common Architect, as well as Cook and Caterer. A shadie Tree, or the covert of a Grotto, or Cave, served for all Lodgers: Man was never so happy, nor so well provided for, as in that condition, which we esteem most miserable, when he had neither cloaths

to put on, nor house to put his head in. If we look to the second edition of the World, after the Floud, and to the generation of the Faithful therein (to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, those heirs of Promise) they dwel in Tents, and, like the Sun, were carried about in their movable Tabernacles; ever in a transito∣ry, but heavenly estate. But what do I speak of Man, or of the Son of Man, that is a Worm? Our blessed Saviour himself, who was Lord of Heaven and Earth, by whom all things were made, that were made, when he made him∣self Man, and dwelt on the Earth, was not so well accommodated as the mea∣nest Creatures, the Foxes, and the Birds of the air; they had their holes, and they had their nests, but he had not where to lay his sacred head: His first lodging was in another mans house, and his last in another mans Grave: in the mean time the mighty Man, he had the Earth, and the honourable Man dwelt in it; the Earth was his House, he was the only Dweller; when the Goodman was but

a Sojourner; and the God-man (if I may speak it with all humble reverence) our blessed Saviour was little more than a beggar in it; who then would put any extraordinary value upon these worldly contentments, seeing how they are dispensed? they are but the crums that fall under the Table, of which the dogs have the greatest share. It is said, that that great Apostle knew not what he said, when he said, it was good being here; our true happiness con∣sists in our not being here. O my Soul, let the Men of the World please them∣selves with their portion in this life, and joyn house to house, and lay field to field, till there be no place for a neigh∣bourhood about them; but do thou rejoyce, that this is not thy continuing place; thou knowest where to be far better then here; even in that heavenly Mansion prepared for thee, whose builder and maker is God. Never look to be in a settled condition, till thou comest thither!

How are our vanities heightened? and a what vast excess are we grown

from that primitive simplicity? when instead of contenting our selves with what nature affordeth, in order to our preservation from the injuries of the air, and weather; we exhaust, and weare out the materials of nature, and rack the inventions of art, to please the lust of our eyes, which may quickly have too much, but can never have e∣nough to satisfy their seeing. We build Houses like Townes, and Townes like Countries (for their capacity, and ex∣tent) when God knowes contentment may be lodged in a little roome.

But what was the reason of that plainness, and homeliness of those good people of old? was it because they were ignorant, and poor, and had not the wit, nor ability to be such magnificent fools, as we are? certain∣ly no, those holy Patriarks were not so plainly bred, but that they under∣stood Kings, and Courts well enough; sometimes scorning to be beholding to them, and at other times being courted by them. They were not in∣digent

persons, but according to the way of those times, rich in Flocks, and and Herds; they had great families, and wanted not for Gold, and Silver, nor for any other accommodation: but the truth is, they looked for a heaven∣ly country, and for a habitation of Gods making; looking upon no house as worth the consideration, but that which is not made with hands.

But yet there is no hurt in these in∣joyments; they are things, not in themselves simply evil; for then the righteous would have no portion at all of them; Abraham would have been as poor as Lazarus; neither are they positively good; for then the wick∣ed would not have so large a share in them; Dives would not have fared so deliciously every day; but they are indif∣ferencies, either good or bad, according as they are well, or ill used. It is free for any man to take comfort in a good house, and to delight himself (as Solo∣mon did) in his workes, and buildings, and plantations; but then it must be

upon Solomons tearms too, so as his Wisdom also do remain with him. The fault is not in the having, but in the abusing of these things, by trusting in them, and bottoming our selves upon them. Let our houses be never so strongly, and massily built, if (accor∣ding to Bildads expression) we lean upon them, they shall not stand, but we shall (like Samson) bring them down about our own ears, and our trust shall be a Spiders web. Nebuchadnazzar might have enjoyed his great Babilon, the house of his Kingdom, long e∣nough, if he had not prided himself in it, but when he came to boast of the might of his Power, and of the Honour of his Majesty, it was just with God to Seal an ejectment against him, and to turn his Majesty to grass, to have his dwelling, and intercommoning with the beasts of the field. The only way to use the world, as we should use it, is so to use it, as if we did not use it. It was a curse among some people, to wish that a man might affect building; and it is

no better then a malediction to those, who so doat upon it, that (as Apollo∣nius told the young man that was fond of his new house) they seem not so much to possess their houses, as their houses seem to possess them; and who are so ta∣ken up with this vanity, that they be∣stow more time upon it, then they can afford to the service of God. Solomon seems to ly under some note for this, in that he was Seven years in building the house of the Lord, but he was thir∣teen years in building his own house: but that is not without reflection. God doth not take well from his people, when they are more careful to accommodate them∣selves in their cieled houses, then to re∣pair his house.

This is a fair building, but who is within? the Master should dignifie the house, and not the house the Master. It is pitty that any such places should be Owles nests. If there be no body of worth within, to give it reputation, the Masons and Carpenters that built the House, may challenge more Honor

then the Master of the house. It is not the beautiful front, nor the rich furni∣ture, but the noble heart, and the rich mind of the owner, that recommends the house. What a miserable thing is it to consider, that for the most part, in this corrupt age wherein we live, great houses are in effect, but mear The∣ators of debauchery, and viciousness. The Devil keeps the house, and he that is called the Master is but the Signe of the Tavern, or the Owle in the Ivy bush. It was the honour of Abraham that he kept a religious family, and command∣ed and taught his houshold to keep the way of the Lord; but that is fanaticism now. Our great ones can tell how to live without God in the world, allow∣ing themselves such a latitude in their way, as if the way of God were too narrow for their quality to walke in. They are so far from improving those that are about them in the knowledge and practice of religion, that, like people that have the plague, they de∣light to infect others with their vices,

and to make them as ill as themselves, as if it were a point of honour to go to hell with a great traine. They have a strange perversness in them; they covet to have good houses, good stuff, good fare, and to have every thing good, to their very horses and dogs, but themselves, and their Houshold. Justly may those houses Spue out their Masters, and fami∣lies, that live only to drink, and spue in them. This is a sore evil, which I have seen under the Sun, namely riches, and these outward conveniences, kept for the possessors thereof to their hurt.

I have read a Rabbinical story of Melchisedec, that being warned by God to build a house for himself, for that he had yet five hundred years to live; he answered, that for so short a time it was not worth the labour. Let the Au∣thor be answerable for the credit of the story: All the use that I shall make of it, is but to observe the folly of these times, wherein we that cannot calcu∣late our lives by hundreds of years, but by the day, by the Span, by the inch,

are yet as sollicitous, as if we were to live to the last day of the world. We go (according to that expression in Syracedes) two wayes at once; we build, as if we were to live for ever; and we eat, and drink, as if we were to dye to mor∣row. The vain, as well as wicked Nero, when he had built his Pallace to to that vastness, that the Epigrammatist made it a question, whether the house stood in the City of Rome, or the City of Rome in the house; he called it Tran∣sitory; and that not insignificantly (whatsoever he intended by it); for there is a transitoriness, and (as I may say) a mortality in buildings, as well as in persons. Man dyes; and where is he? his place shall know him no more. The house decayes, and falls; and where is that? within a few years, no body shall know the place of that any more; the memorial of both is perished with them: And yet such is the sottish stu∣pidity of people, that though they see, and cannot but know these things, yet they figure to themselves imaginary

perpetuties, and adopt their houses in their own names, and please themselves with the inward thought that their dwelling places shall continue for ever un∣to all generations: this their way, is their folly, yet their posterity approve their say∣ings.

O my Soul, never look to be well seat∣ed in this low morish vale of tears. Whatever is built here, must needs sink, for want of a solid foundation, which this loose rotten ground will not admit. There is no foundation standeth sure, but that which is of God. Except he build the house, and the house be built upon him (upon his blessing) it will never be weather proof. Take example there∣fore from that feeble folk, that make their houses in the rock, build upon that rock, which is Christ; and with that good, and noble Eleazar, take up thy habitation in his wounds; embrace that rock, and thou shalt never want a shel∣ter; no not in that day, when the dens, and rocks of the mountaines shall not afford that curtesy to the greatest

upon earth: and when thine earthly house of this tabernacle shall be dissolved, thou shalt have a building of God, and be clothed upon with thy house, which is from Heaven, and shall stand for ever!

MEDITAT. XIII. Ʋpon the sight of Pictures in a Gallery.

HOw many artificial miracles are there in this roome? how are mine eyes at once pleased, and distract∣ed? I may truly say, the eye is not satis∣fied with seeing. How many wayes at once, have I to look? here, without taking the pains to go abroad I can go abroad within doores, and in a small table see, a whole Contry, diversified with Hills, and Dales, with Boscage, Campagnes, Cities, Rivers, Sea's, all so perfectly represented, that a Poet would make a question upon it, whether it were a natural work of art, or

an artificial work of nature. In another place, I can behold a beauty drawn with that sweetness, and ingenuity of aspect, that it might pass for a picture of a mind, as well as of a face. There, is a peace of devotion, set forth so mov∣ingly that it would move devotion to see it; and near unto that, a picture of a dead friend, so exactly resembling him, and with that vivacity, that if the eyes were to be the only judges, one would think it lived, and spake, and were the party, and not the picture. To fill up the measure of mine admi∣ration, all this variety is expressed by the help of a few colours, blended toge∣ther, and laid on with a pencil, made up of a few hoggs haires; such mate∣rials, and utensils, as an ignorant stan∣der by, would judge only fit, to foule ones fingers, and spoil ones clothes.

O my God, whilst I feed mine eyes upon these workes of mens hands, I can∣not but glorify and adore thine excellent working, who hast created all things, and who dost worke all our workes in us. Let

others admire the men that made these pictures, I admire the God that made these men; I admire that picture (as I may so call it) which was of Gods own making; the impression of his image in man. There is no peace in the world comparable to that.

Pleasant pictures (such as are meer∣ly for recreation, and diversion) may seem to be inoffensive; and yet in a bedrol of sins enumerated by the Pro∣phet Isaiah, I find them mentioned, with a particular denunciation against them. There is nothing so innocent in the world, but by a too much affecti∣on may be abused, and turned into sin: I would therefore make use of the pleasures of this world, as I would do of the pictures in this gallery; walk by them, and look upon them with a transient eye, but not stop my way, nor spend my time upon them.

What is this sublunary world, but (as it were) a painters shop, wherein we see nothing but appearances, and fancies, and not any thing of reallity?

All the glory of it, is but a painted bub∣ble; it swells, and lookes bigg, and Casts fine colours, and then breaks, and vapours into nothing; The friendship of the world, which (if any thing) should be real, is (for the most part) but so much picture, and complement, but daubing; Plato calls it by a right name, Rhetorical friendship; and Rhetor∣ick is no other then a kind of painted language. What are the beauties of the world, which vaine men so much ad∣mire, and are so inveigled with, but (at the best) in their native favour deceitful, and vaine? and thus far re∣sembling pictures, as all their comeli∣ness consisteth in the due proportion of lineaments, and in the clearness and freshness of colours, which are the very elements of painting: As for others, many of them may pass for no other then living pictures; so painted, and patcht, that being compared with their pictures, which are made for them, it might be a question, which were the principals, and which the copies; for

both are painted like; only of the two, their own faces may be said to be the worst, because they are not like them∣selves. I could wish that we had not too many Christians in Picture; such hypocrites, as think it religion enough, to seem religious. These are double fac'd pictures; one way so putting to shew the beauty of holiness in their profession, as if (according to the language of the Lycaonians) Gods were come down in the likeness of men; another way so representing the ugliness of sin, in their practice, as if men were come up in the likeness of Devils. I confess, that of late, the number of these kind of peeces (thorough an inundation of de∣bauchery, and profaness among us) is so much abated, that a man (with the safety of his charity) might wish, there were more hypocrites stirring again; for tho those painted Sepulchres, might by their specious appearance deceive some; these open Sepulchres do by their pesti∣lential corruptions, infect more. Be∣tween both, all roomes are filled up;

if there be fewer seemingly righteous then there were; there are the more that are openly vicious; such as have the resem∣blance of beasts, as of Goats, Swine, Apes, Peacocks, Asses, and so we are sufficiently furnished with pictures still.

The world loves to be cousened, and (as it is in juggling) the more curi∣ous the deceit is, the more it pleaseth, tho it be known to be a deceit, so the picture of the grapes, that cousened the birds; and that of the vaile, that cousened the painter, were therefore held excellent peeces, because they deceived the sight with so much art. How commendable is truth, when the meer resemblance there∣of is enough to give commendation to falshood!

Likeness to nature is the perfection of art, and likeness to the God of nature is the perfection of grace. God is the Original of all perfection, and we are expressly commanded to be conforme unto his Image; that is, not in his power, and glory; the Angels affected that, and fell; nor in his knowledg, and wis∣dome;

our first parents coveted that, and transgressed; but in his holiness, and righteousness; in being good, and doing good. Lord teach me to copy out thy divine nature, in those attributes wherein thou art imitable, that since I cannot be like thee as thou art the most high; I may indeavour to resemble thee, as thou art the most lowly, and meek, and holy, and beneficent God. It is my mi∣sery, as well as my crime, that I have so long borne the image of the first man, which was of the earth, earthly; vouch∣safe I beseech thee, to stampe the image of the second man, the Lord from heaven, upon my corrupt nature, and by the renewing of my mind, so transform me, that whilst others please themselvs in their walk thorough the gallery of this world with beholding vain objects, and entertaining the lust of their eyes with them, mistaking shadowes for sub∣stances, and pictures for realities; call∣ing (but not in thy sence) things that are not, as if they were; I may have the eyes of my faith fixed upon thine image,

as the only object of my delight; so shall I be satisfied, when I awake out of this dreaming life, with thy likeness, and be like unto thee, when I shall see thee as thou art in glory.

MEDITAT. XIV. Ʋpon the sight of a Parret in a Cage.

WHat hath this poor bird commit∣ted, that she should be made a Prisoner? I see others of our own cli∣mate fore at liberty, whilst this far fetcht stranger is in hold. Surely our vanities are sharp set, when they come to stoop at a feather. But what is it, that the lust of the eyes will not fly at? to trade for Apes, and Peacocks is no new thing. The world hath ever been given to af∣fect trifles, and the mischeif is, that while we take them up, they take us, and so we are in the cage too. We shall never be able to set a just price upon

any thing, so long as we suffer our fan∣cy to be the cleark of the Market.

If this Parret had been of a common plumage, she might to this day have pearcht, where she was hatcht; now her unfortunate beauty hath betraied her to this captivity. Thus many times the things that should be for our advan∣tage become unto us an occasion of fall∣ing.

But what language is this? who would not think but that the Devil were in the Parret, as well as he was in the Serpent? and yet, it is but a speak∣ing into the air, and of little significa∣tion; there are such babblers to be found among us, without the help of a lanthorne, that have the art of speak∣ing much, and saying nothing; and I wish it were a rarer thing to hear Par∣rets speak like men, then to hear men speak like Parrets.

But yet I see this good language houlds but during pleasure; upon the least provocation, the bird returns to her own natural clamour again. How

many are there that can bestow goodly words upon God, so long as he is pleased to please them: and yet are ready to curse him to his face, if he do but touch them in their persons, or estates? such tren∣cher disciples, as can follow Christ, with a plausible formality, so long as they may eat of the loaves, and be filled; but when persecution ariseth, are by and by offended.

O God, whilst the world is taken with garish toyes, and things that can∣not profit; let it be the delight of my Soul to apprehend thee, and to be ap∣prehended by thee. Teach me so to look upon thy works, that they may be a lesson, not a snare to me: So shall I, even in the vanity of the creature, read thy glory; and from the folly of the world receive some instruction.

MEDITATION. XV. Ʋpon hearing good Musick.

I cannot but think that Soul out of tune, that is not affected with Mu∣sick. For tho I am not of the opinion of that fidling Philosopher, that de∣fined the Soul to be a harmony; yet I do really believe, that there is no∣thing that striketh so immediatly, and incorporeally upon the powers there∣of, as Musick doth. It insinuateth in∣to the Spirits, and hath such a secret familiarity with them, that it disposeth them to variety of passions, conformable to the several changes, and inflexions thereof. It stilleth the child at the nur∣ses breast, and layeth it a sleep; it cheareth the labourer at his work, the gally slave at his Oar; it rouzeth the Souldier in the field, and exciteth him to action. History telleth us of Py∣thagoras his practice of physick, by Mu∣sick,

and of his curing of diverse sick∣nesses by that meanes; and experience verifieth the possibility thereof, in the recovery of those that are stung with the Tarantula, by the same way. As to the operation thereof upon the mind, every one almost, that hath ears to hear, may be called to witness, whether some aires, and tunes, do not sensibly attrist, others comfort; some move, others moderate affections. To say nothing of those fables of Orpheus, and Amphion; the one reported to have charmed birds and beasts; the o∣ther said to have moved stocks and stones by their harmonious accents; the moral whereof tended only to sig∣nify the power of perswasion, and the efficacy thereof, to reduce brutish, and ignorant people to civility, and co∣habitation, and politie; tho withall in∣ferring (in that allusion to Musick) that even in those rude times of old, there was a sense of the operation of it upon the Spirits, and natures of men; for which cause both Plato and Aristotle

recommended the use of it, in their states, and common weals, as benefi∣cial to the regulation of manners. It may be enough to say, that there is a kind of divine power in harmony, work∣ing even upon those Spirits, which are of a nature exalted above the Spirts of men: this▪ sufficiently witnessed by the word of God, in those famous ex∣amples of Saul, and Elisha. What the reason of these strange effects should be, is beyond the compass of reason to im∣agine. Lord! whilst this harmony delights mine ear, let the consideration of thine infinite wisdome, whereby thou hast made all things in number, weight, and measure (in a harmony to be seen), affect my heart, that so while I admire thee in what I hear, and see; I may adore thee in what I cannot comprehend.

How ravishing is this pleasure; and how is my Soul elevated with it, even to an extasy? that whether it be in the body, or out of the body, me thinks I can hardly say; certainly there is nothing of greater use for the raising, and sweet∣ning

of our affections towards God, then the singing of his high praises in Psalmes, and Hymmes, and Spiritual Songs. The primitive Christians were so taken with it, that in the times of persecution, at their conventicles before day, they could not forbear making their melody to the Lord, though many times they were discovered by it, to their extream hazard. It is written by a Father, that in the little Town of Beth∣leem, near unto which he lived, there was nothing almost to be heard, but that heavenly musick, resounding in all places; from the shop to the plough; there was no mirth, but in singing Psalms. O the goodness of God, who knowing our infirmity, how much more we are in∣clined to that which delights, then to that which profiteth, hath so contrived it; that by borrowing from melody that pleasure which toucheth our ears, he doth by the smoothness, and softness thereof, as by a holy stealth, convey a treasure of Good things into our hearts; so that whilst we think we sing, we

learn; and in doing that wherein we delight, we are taught that, whereby we profit. It is observable that the sweetness of Musick consisteth in discords (high, low, mean) there can be no harmony in Ʋnisons. If there be not a distinction in sounds, how shall it be known, what is piped, or harped? but then those discords must be propor∣tionately accorded, or the sound will be ingrate, and odious; and it is no other∣wise in the point of Government; there must be a distinction of degrees observed; a superiority, and an inferiority; with a due order held between them; every one retaining his proper place; the treble must not be strung, where the base should be, nor the mean where the treble should be: every one must be kept in his proper tone, neither too flat, nor too sharpe; one pin should not be wound up too high, nor another let down too low, (which was noted by Apollonius to have been Nero's fault in Government) but every one in his peculiar station, must be kept in a due

harmony: So we see Octaves, or Di∣apazons, (though so many notes distant, yet (as by a secret simpathy) cor∣respond, the one to the pulse and touch of the other, and make the sweetest concord. Parity (at the best) is but a kind of orderly confusion; there can be no Musick in it.

But there be some strings, which are called false ones, which by reason of the inequality, and unevenness of their making, will never be brought to accord with the rest, but will perpetual∣ly jar; It were well if we had not too many Spirits of that Ʋneven jarring tem∣per, that nothing will ever work them to any agreement. I would they were cut off that trouble the har∣mony.

But what a deal of time is spent in tuning, before we can come to have any Musick? and how easily and quick∣ly is that delight of the Sons of men interrupted, by the slipping, or break∣ing of a string or the mistopping of a fret? the case is alike in our most

pleasing earthly enjoyments; there is hardly any pleasure we take, but it costs us pains to take it; and when we have it, every little accident is enough to discompose it. If we set our hearts upon it, and make it our businness, we stop upon a wrong fret; and if we scrue it up too high in our estimation, or let it down too low, to the service of base un∣worthy ends, we run the hazard of making it break, or stip, or yeild no sound at all to please us. There is no∣thing more sure, then that there is no∣thing sure under the Sun.

O my Soul, if there be so much plea∣sure to be taken in that, which we call Musick hear, which (when all comes to all) is but a sound, arising from the per∣cussion of a few guts, or wire strings fasten∣ed to a concave frame, or instrumet of wood, moved by the fingers of men, and it may be accompanied with their voices; raise thy self upon the wings of faith, and love, to the contemplation of that truly melodious harmony, whereof thou shalt, by the grace of God, be a partaker in the

quire of Heaven without interruption to all eternity; when the voices of Saints, and Angells shall be conjoyned with the harpes of God in everlasting Hallellujas unto him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for ever, and ever. Lord, I have had enough, and enough of the scraping of this world; which al∣though it may for the time afford some pleasure to mine ear, yet it is so mo∣mentary, and to my Soul so unsatisfactc∣ry; that I humbly beseech thee to fit me for a better consort, even that ce∣lestial one; where all mouths shall be filled with thy praise, and with thy hon∣our; and where my lips shall rejoyce, when I sing unto thee, and my Soul which thou hast redeemed. Here the best of thy Servants have been weary of their crying, there the meanest of them shall never be weary of their singing; they shall rest from their labours, but they shall never rest from their Holy, Holy, Holy'es, to the Lord God almighty; that labour shall be their rest. There shall need no keeping time in that bles∣sed

Musick, for none shall be out in their part, and time shall be no more. O my Soul, what dost thou here? I waite for thy Salvation, O Lord, but Lord how long?

MEDITAT. XVI. Ʋpon the sight of a pleasant Garden.

THere is no humane pleasure that hath so much of antiquity, and of the state of innocency in it, as the pleasure of a Garden. The first no∣tice, and mention that we have of pleasure in the world, is with refe∣rence to that garden in Eden, which was of Gods own plantation, and where∣in he gave intertainment to our first Pa∣rents, as in a room drest up on pur∣pose to receive them, and to give them delight. But yet, all was not made for meer delight there; there was that which was good (good for foood)

as well as that which was pleasant to the sight. All the pleasures that are of Gods making, are good; vanity came in with sin.

How happy might we have been in that Primitive condition, if sin had not corrupted it? when without fears for to day, or cares for to morrow, we might have lived immortally blessed, in a constant communion with God, and in the affluence of all good things in him; when our roses should have had no briers; when our pleasures should have had nothing but an innocent sweetness in them, and we might have gathered them without scratching our fing∣ers, without raveling our Consciences: when the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden, would have been an invitation to us, to have walked with him, and not a terrour to have driven us from his presence. O Adam! what hast thou done? what a happy estate hast thou forfeited, for an inconsiderable trifle! How hast thou by one bit of an Apple (a sower one) set both thine

own, and thy Childrens teeth on edge, to all thy succeding generations? but blessed be God, who hath sent his Son Jesus Christ, the second Adam, the Lord from Heaven, who by the merits of his sufferings hath redeemed that forfei∣ture, and infeoffed us in a better estate, then we were in before the fall: where∣by we who were of the earth earthly, are made conformable to the image of the heavenly; and intitled to a celestial paradise, into which no Serpent shall ever be able to enter, and out of which we shall never be ejected.

It is worth the noting, that if our first Parents had not transgressed, but had continued in their imparadised con∣diton, they should not have enjoyed an idle lazy felicity. God did not put them into the Garden, as we put beasts into a good pasture, to graze and batten; or as he placed the Leviathan in the Sea, to play therein; but to dress, and keep it; to employ their time in doing good in it; and that exercise of their vo∣cation, should have been unto them

there, as the doing of Gods will is to the blessed Angels in Heaven, a maine part of their beatitude. It is a comfortable thing to live in a good vocation; and in∣deed, without that, we cannot prop∣erly be said to live. A calling, or vocation, is, in the language of the law, tearm∣ed an Addition; but it is such an ad∣dition, as a figure is to a cyphar; it is that, that makes us something in the world; and without which, the great∣est that are, are but like Nulls in a cha∣racter, only remarkable, because they signify nothing: O my Soul, consider this; it is better to dye, then not to live; and they live not, that live to no end. Make it thy buisiness so to live, as that when God shall call thee, thou maist be found in the way of thy calling, doing thy Lords buisiness; which is the way to be admitted into the joy of thy Lord.

It is written of our blessed Saviour, that he affected a garden, and frequen∣ted it often with his disciples. God doth not prohibit us the liberty, and free

use of lawful pleasures, so long as we do not set our hearts, and affections up∣on them, but make use of them, as we do of our gardens, for recreation, and diversion, and not to dwell in; and so long as we look up to him in the enjoy∣ment of them, as the God of our comforts and have our rejoycing in him. O my Soul, take him whom thou lovest, for an example, and study to improve this delight to a sanctified use: when thou art here, in company, to edify others (as he did his disciples) by a holy communication, Ministring grace un∣to them; and when alone to spend thy time, and exercise thy thoughts (as he also did) in Meditation, and praier. Nay let his burial, and resurrection (both which were in a garden) be re∣membrances unto thee, to put thee in mind, (in the middest of thy de∣lights) that thou art implanted with him into death; that like as he was raised up from the dead, by the glory of the Father, even so thou also shouldest be confor∣med to the likeness of his resurrection, to

walk in newness of life. Let these thoughts be thine intertainment, and thy garden will be so much paradise unto thee. He that walkes with God, can never want a good walke, and good company. There is no garden well con∣trived, but that which hath an Enoch's walk in it.

How cleanly are these Allies kept? and how orderly are the Hedges cut, and the Trees pruned and nailed, and not an irregular Twig left? there is no such care taken for the weeds, and bush∣es, and brambles that grow abroad. God is careful to preserve the Garden of his Church in all decency and order; and will not suffer it to be overgrown with errours or prophaness; but is (like a good Husbandman, if I may say so with all humbleness) ever at work a∣bout it; either weeding out, what his heavenly hand hath not planted; or if need be, lopping, and cutting off luxuriant branches, that bear not fruit; or purging those that do bear, that they may bring forth more fruit. But as

for those that are without, he lets them alone to grow wild, not giving him∣self so much trouble (to speak after the manner of men) as either to dig about them with his Chastisements, or to dung and inrich them with his Mercies, but leaving them to their own barrenness, and to the curse attending it. God in his judgement begins at his own House; and if so, what shall the end be of those, that are not of his Houshold? It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, though for correction an edification; but it is infinitely more fearful, and horrid, to fall out of his hands; to be, as without the pale of his providence, left to bring forth fruit unto our selvs. Why should those that are of the Church of God be discou∣raged under their crosses, and afflicti∣ons, when as they are but the effects of his divine husbandry, whereby to melior∣te, and improve them? their sufferings, are but signes of his owning them to be true plants of his own setting; and that they grow where they should

do. Lord, do any thing to me, rather then nothing: Let thy pruning knife be never so sharp, and cutting, it can do me no hurt, so long as it tends to make me good.

At present this is a sweet place, but what will it be a few months hence? at what time the liberality of nature will (for this Season) be spent, and her charity to us, will have reduced her to a bare condition? When winter is come all this verdure, and fragrancy is gone; and we may go seek the gar∣den, in the garden; and the place thereof shall not know it. How vain and transitory, and fugitive, are all earthly pleasures? like flowers, they wither, even whilst we are smelling to them, and perish in the using; the fashion of the world, as well as of the garden, passeth away. It was well said of a Hea∣then, that in this inferior visible world, there is nothing to be seen, but the sha∣dows, and appearances of things, but that in the invisible, in the superior world, there are solids, and substances

to be found, as in their proper region. In vain do we look for any thing in any thing here, when there is a superscription of vanity written upon all things under the Sun. If any body would know, what vanity is? the word of God will tell him, it is something less then no∣thing; if any would be satisfied what nothing is; I can tell him, it is no∣thing; and it is so, because it is not, because it hath no being. He is wise, that knows how to take things, as they are, in their true entity. The world can never deceive us, so long as we are led by truth, and not by opinion. He is not confined in the receiving of mony, that takes brass coine according to the true value of the mettal, and as brass coine. O my Soul, learn this wisdome; use pleasures, as pleasures; and whilst thou laiest hold on these follies, do as Solomon did, retaine the wisdome to know they are but follies. Do not set thine eyes upon that which is not; or which (if, in any sence, it be) is never at such a consistence, but

that even whilst it is, it may be said, it was; so fluid, that like water, the more it is embraced, and grasped, the more it slips away. But look up, and con∣sider; the things here below, which are seen, are temporary, and of short con∣tinuance, but the things which are above, and which are not seen, are eter∣nal. Those, and none but those, are the true pleasures, which are at Gods right hand for evermore.

MEDITAT. XVII. Ʋpon the sight of a fair horse, well mannaged.

WHat a noble Generous creature is this? and how answerable to that character of a brave goodly horse, which was delivered by God himself out of the whirlwind? His crest seems to be clothed with thunder; the glory of his Nostrils is terrible; he swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage; and

saith among the trumpets ha, ha; he mocketh at fear; he paweth, and reioy∣ceth in his strength; and is ready to go on to meet the armed men, as if he smelt the battel afar off, and heard the thunder of the Captains, and the shouting. God seemeth (if I may so speak) to take pleasure in describing this peice of his own workmanship, setting forth (as in the description of the Leviathan) his parts, and his power, and his comely proportion. Where God thinks it not fit to conceal the commendation of his works, they ought to be had in re∣membrance, and to be glorified by us. All thy works praise thee O Lord, and thy Saints shall bless thee in all thy works. O my Soul praise thou the Lord, as in other things, so in this particular op∣peration of his hands, which he himself hath praised, and ranked with the cheif of his wayes.

It may be matter of just admiration, even to the most knowing persons, to consider how the strength, and fierceness of this creature is subdued, and subjected

to the service, and mannagement of a weak infirme man; who is so far unable to cope with such an enemy upon even tearmes, that he cannot withstand the kick of his foot. Lord what is man, that thou shouldst thus magnify him, and put the fear, and dread of him upon all thine inferior creatures, and deliver them into his hand? Certainly they are in∣jurious to nature, or rather to the God of nature, that think man ill dealt with, because he is not so long lasting, as most vegetables are; nor so strong and active, as many sensitive creatures are: not con∣sidering that the great creator aiming at a higher end in man, is in these lower faculties less intent, and elabor∣ate; as having in that excellent gift of reason (wherewith he is indued) not only repaired, and compensated those defects unto him, but exalted him above all other creatures; and inabled him thereby to command their parts and qualities, wherein they exceed him, and to make use of them for his own service.

But what merit is there in man, that should thus mount him, and set him on horse-back? It is true, in his creation, God innobled him, by impressing the Signature of his own Image upon him, and by giving him that dominion over the workes of his hands; but man being in honour continued not, but by his pre∣varication fell; whereby he became not only like the beasts that perish, so that they might say, man is become like one of us; but inferiour to them, and subject to their annoyance, to be mischeived, and maistered, and (as it were) to be ridden by them. All other creatures re∣taine the honour, and dignity of their cre∣ation: all that host (so the word of God calls it) all that army of creatures, doth punctually observe the discipline, and pass upon the duty imposed on them by their maker; and act accor∣dingly: but man only, who was com∣missionated general of that army, could not command himself, but being mis∣governed by his own corrupt affecti∣ons, did imbase, and abbasterdise that

noble kind wherewith God had hon∣or'd him. O the riches of free grace! the reprobate Angels sinned but once, and were immediatly, and irrecoverably dam∣ned; the sensitive creatures never sin∣ned, and yet are subdued to the bondage of corruption; Man, whom God had made little inferiour to the elect Angels, and superiour to all the works of his hands in this sublunary world, he doth nothing, and can do nothing of himself, as of him∣self, but sin in every imagination of the thoughts of his heart, and hath thereby rendered himself justly liable to death and hell: and yet, as if God had lo∣ved him better then himself, it pleased him to give himself (his only begotten Son, Coessential, Coequal with himself) to be a ransome for his sins, and by the all-sufficiency of that redemtion, and at∣tonement, to re-invest him in his for∣mer command here, and to intitle him to the Kingdom of Heaven hereafter. O the depth! How much should man love, to whom so much is given, and so much forgiven?

I cannot but have a charity for those poor ignorant people, who upon the first sight of horse men, took the men, and the horses to be but one and the same creature. But taking them as they are distinct; who would not think, but that (as it was in the vision of the living creatures, and the wheels) the Spi∣rit of the one, were in the other, and that one Soul acted both? So doth the beast answer to every, the least motion of the rider, and obey his mannage. What is is this but an emblem of sence guided by reason? This horse may pass for the representative of a well governed man. The great Moralist made that use of the description of a brave serviceable Horse in Virgil, to apply it to the Character of a gallant person; profes∣sing that if he were to commend Cato, he could not express his constant, regular, noble carriage in better tearmes. How beautiful is vertue, and a well comman∣ded courage in a man, when the bare shad∣dow of that gallantry, (tho so far short) is so well becoming, even in a beast?

But we have a caveat given us, Not to be as the horse; which is exemplified, in our turning to our own precipitate courses, as the horse rusheth heedlesly into the battel, and in our pampering, and fo∣menting our corrupt affections, when (like fed horses) we neigh after our lusts. What a beast is man, when he suffers his sense to transport him beyond his reason? Surely, so much worse then the horse, and mule, which have no understanding, as he hath an understanding, which he himself hath imbrutishtand abased below his Species. He is brutish (as the Prophet saith) in his very knowledg. The man may ride the horse, but so long as the sense rides the reason, the beast rides the man. In vain doth he raine in his horse with bit, and bridle, who lets himself loose to an unbridled conversation. O my God, I have a natural restyness in me, which I beseech thee to break; and and therefore when∣soever my follies would fly out, and attempt to run away with me; use me like my self, a whip for the horse, and a rod for the fooles back; and if I will

not hear the voice, let me feell the smart of it. Blessed is he whom thou chastenest, and teachest.

A horse is a plain dealing creature, and, tho very serviceable, yet (if pro∣voked) as ready to cast a King, as a beg∣gar; he is no courtier; and therefore it was upon that account, that Carneades advised Princes, and great men to practise horsemanship, that they might be used to something that would not flatter them. I hold it but decent to be service∣able to the quality of publick, and emi∣nent persons; but he that will be rid∣den by their humours, must pardon me if I esteem him to be of something a lower degree then a horse, and worthy to be Spur-galled if he do not (at the least) try their horsemanship that back him, whither they can keep the saddle, and sit fast, or no.

I find it written, as an expression of honour to the house of Judah, that God had made them as his goodly horse in the battel; and yet in other places it is said, that a horse is but a vain thing,

and (without the divine protection) utterly unable to deliver any by his great strength. Surely God is a jealous God, tender of his honour; and tho he do allow and appoint meanes for our de∣fence, and preservation, yet he will not by any meanes that we should trust in any, but him. The woe, is not to those that ride, but to those that stay on Horses, because they are many, and strong. Let who so will, put their confidence in Chariots, and in horses; I will remember the name of the Lord my God, and stay up∣on him. He is a sure refuge, a pre∣sent help: The horse is prepared against the day of battel, but safety is of the Lord.

MEDITAT. XVIII. Ʋpon the sight of Bowlers in a Green.

WHat an emblem of the world have we here in this Green? what making and abetting of parties? What casting to attain ends? some one way, and some another; according as they are biassed? and most are short, or o∣ver, or wide; and few there be, that get to ly neer the mark they aime at. All are very buisy, and clamorous; and yet none enjoy the sport so much, as those that have no part in it, but are standers by, and dissinteressed persons. It is a priviledg next to that of God, and his Angels, to be a spectator in the world. Lord, whilst others affect to be gamsters here, let me be in the number of those that look on; or ra∣ther of those that look up; so shall I have a double advantage, both in my se∣curity

from loosing any thing here•• where I adventure nothing; and as I shall be sure to winn all that I can desire hereafter, whilst I set mine affections on things above.

It is a measuring cast, whether it be better sport to see the bowling, or the bowlers; of the two, the last would make one laugh most; and therefore I think the best part of the sport lyes on their side. Certainly there cannot be a bet∣ter jeast seen, then the antick figures, into which they screw themselves; nor a greater absurdity heard, then the sen∣sible advice that they cast after their senseless bowles; now and then, to have them rub; now and then, to have them flye; and to observe their impati∣ence (many time, to a degree of desper∣ation) if they chance not to run cor∣respondently to their flexures, and cringes. What is the difference in point of fol∣ly, between asking Council of a stock and giving Council to a block? The Moral of it may serve to informe, us that all passions, in their excesses, are unbecom∣ing.

But where is the fault, if the bowle do go wrong? is it not in the hand that misguided it? and yet rather then faile, we can lay the blame, either up∣the lightness, or heaviness, or biass of the bowle. We are naturally loth to own what we do amiss, and are willing to dis∣charge our errours upon others; tho never so much guilty our selves. We know whose plea it was, the woman did it, and the Serpent did it, but that would not ac∣quit.

It is true, tho a bowle be never so well delivered from the hand, it may meet with such rubs in the way, as may either retard, or divert it, and there∣fore there must be a consideration had accordingly, to give it a fit strength, to carry it thorough those accidents. They do well that begin well, and ground their designes well, but if they do not allow for a rub in their cast, it is odds if ever they get home.

It is a great advantage (especially to an unskilful bowler) to have a know∣ing friend to give him ground; and it is

no otherwise in the mannagement of affairs in the world. The greatest, and most prudent persons, that have liv∣ed in their generations, have been most careful in this point, to have men of advice about them. To say nothing of those Persian Monarchs, that had their Counsellers, whom they called their eyes, to guide them in the conduct of their Government; nor of the Asyri∣an Ahasuerus, whose manner it was, in matters of law and judgment, to consult his wise men, that knew the times; Da∣vid, the man after Gods own heart, had his Ahitophel, an oraculous Counsellor, if he had had honesty to his wisdome; Solomon the wisest of all men, was not without his Et••am, and Haman, and Chaliol, and Darda; and if Rehoboam would have taken that ground which was given him by those old men, that had stood before his Father, he might have done well, but his biass wheeled him to the young men, that were brought up with him, and so by their misguiding him, he lost ten Tribes at a cast; where

no Council is, people fall, but in the multi∣tude of Counsellers there is safety. How safe, and happy are they that have God to give them ground who is the Coun∣seller? and that can hear his voice di∣recting them, and telling them, this is the way, walk in it? O my God, give me a hearing heart (according to the praier of that wise and roial Servant of thine) that thy pure Commandment may enlighten mine eyes, to discerne the way wherein I should go; so shall I be sure not to cast away mine indeavours, whilst I follow thine advice, who art both my guide, and my way, and the only way of truth.

But it is an unlucky thing to have a bowle lye short in a good ground; for thereby, it doth not only loose the cast it self, but it becometh a stumbling black unto others: We have many such short casts made in the world, by those who begin well (in the Spirit) and, with the Lawyer in the Gospel, run far toward the Kingdom of God, but then grow weary of well doing, and end in

the flesh; in Agrippa's Almost; where∣by they are both loosers themselves, and hindrances to those that would willingly fling home; and so become answerable both for their own, and for other mens sins. That condition must needs be sad, that cannot be amended, but by knocking up.

It is a part of the sport to see, how by a lucky hit, an unlikely bowle may some∣times come to lie neer, which without that chance, would have been far enough off. There be such bowlers among us, that get more by justing and knocking, then by fair play,

But yet it is here, as it is abroad in the world, the best bowles may have the worst luck; all the huddle is about them, and none are struck at, but those that lie next the Master. O my Soul, whilst others, with so much trouble, and hazard to themselvs, are casting at greatness, and honour, let it be thy buisi∣ness to aime at goodness, which is in∣deed the only true greatness; and then however the world may strike at thee,

even to the turning of thee, out of the green, the greatest blow it can give thee, will but make thee a toucher in Heaven.

MEDITATION. XIX. Of Hunting.

It is observed by some, that hunting hath an ill name in Scripture; and that we do not read in all those sacred Records, of any one good man, that did affect it. Nimrod the mighty, and the first hunter, who was in after-times deified in memory of it, under the name (as some write) of that con∣stellation, which we call Orion, with the dog-star at his heeles; and Esau, the cunning hunter, are both therein suf∣ficiently branded, the one for his op∣pression, the other for his profaneness: the very tearm of hunting is seldom therein used, but in an evil sence; so we read of violent men, hunting one a∣nother;

of evil, hunting violent men; of the adulteress, hunting the precious life; of false prophetesses, hunting Souls. All which notwithstanding, it will not consequently follow, that hunting is in it self illicite, because the name of it is thus applied, or because the thing it self hath been, and is by many abu∣sed. To say nothing of those argu∣ments used by some Philosophers, in justification of it; as that it is a man∣ly exercise, whereby mens Spirits are quickned and sharpened, and their bodyes corroborated, and hardened, and fitted to undergo the service of the field; and that it is but just, and natural, for men to take this freedom, upon the account of their dominion over the crea∣tures, which are naturally theirs: It may be enough to say, that God hath in his word permitted it, with this only caution, that the blood of those creatures, that were taken, and killed in hunting, should be powerd out, and co∣vered with the dust; which was but the same prohibition that was given

against the eating of any flesh whatsoever, with the life thereof. Gods permission is the best commission we have for the use of any pleasures, and therefore may suf∣fice to authorize this. I might al∣ledge out of History, that Saint John the beloved disciple is reported to have been a great lover of this sport, as some proof that a good man might, and that no less then a holy pen-man of the Scripture did affect it. But I pass it by. O my God, thou knowest that our fraile, and weak bodyes have need of recreations, and divertisments, as well as of food and raiment, to pre∣serve, and sustaine them in a good habitude; let me not live to abuse this liberty, which thou art pleased to allow, either by over affecting it, or by turning my delight in it to a Sangui∣nary wontonness, but do thou teach me by thy grace, so to use thy Creatures, in a moderate, sober way, as having a dominion, but not a tiranny over them; and that it may be my principal end by this exercise to improve my

health, and strength to the advantage of thy service; that there may be an in∣scription of holiness upon the belly, as well as upon the bowels; upon my pleasures, as well as upon my most seri∣ous, or necessary actions, so as what∣ever I do, (whether I hunt, or whe∣ther I eat or drink) I may do all to thy glory!

What a breach of the peace hath sin made in the world? not only between God, and man, and man and man, but even between brute creatures. Had it not been for that common make bate, the Lion and the Kid, the Wolfe and the Lamb, the Hound and the Hair, might have laine down together as good Friends. It is a sad thing to consider that sin is the Master of the game among us, and that we are faine to be beholding to the Devil for our sport. O my God! let the sence of this, lay such a restraint upon mine affections, that whilst I fol∣low this sport, which is occasioned by the entrance of sin, I may never be so foolish as to make a sport of sin, but that I may

make it my game to hunt that out; and to destroy that, which would o∣therwise pursue me to my destructi∣on.

There be several sorts of chases in the world; some of beasts of prey; others weak, harmless creatures. The first was noble, and had a gallantry in it; when men took pleasure in freeing their countries from what was noxious, and de∣structive; but as people grew degene∣rate, and base, so they became weary of sporting with danger, and conten∣ted themselves with smaller game, such as they might play at with more safety and now the poor Deer and Hare, do in effect pay for all: They that do least hurt, suffer most. It is no otherwise in the course, and practise of the world, wherein those of strength, and power, instead of opposing others that are in a ca∣pacity to rest their violence, do commonly turn upon such as can make least defence, and devoure those that are more righteous then themselves. There is game enough in the world besides, but the poor man

that departeth from evil, is the easiest prey.

But what an insatiety is there in all these delights, which with so much paines, and clamour we pursue? when we have taken what we hunted through thick and thin, the roasting comes to a poor business. All the delight seemes to be in the paines we take. Our very pleasures, as well as our cares, grow in the thorny ground, as it is said in the parable of the seed. There is no end in worldy desires, but even when we have what we would, we find we have not what we would! O my Soul, let this very disatisfaction teach thee that there is nothing here worth the de∣siring. The game we hunt would not be in so much danger, but for the sent thereof, which it carries with it self, and yet leaves behind it, and upon which it is followed. As we hunt other creatures, so we our selves are hunted by that roaring Lion, the Devil, that seeks to devour us; and yet we might be safe enough from him, if it were not for the corruption that

is in our own natures; but every man hath an evil man within him, and there lyes the sent, upon which we are per∣sued. Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man; from that evil man, which is my self in my self, and I shall not fear what the Devil can do unto me!

I have often seen a hunted Hare, when she is hard run, get into a flock of sheep, and put the hounds to a loss, by keep∣ing among them in their walk, O my Soul, as thou desirest to save they self from the destroier, follow the ex∣ample of that poor creature, go thy way by the foot-steps of Christs Flock, and keep close to the Shepheards tents, so shalt thou put that enemy of thine to a loss, and remaine safe under the protection of the great Shepheard of the Sheep, who will in no wise cast thee out, and out of whose hand none can pluck thee.

It is remarkeable that there is no∣thing that hunts so like a Hare, as a Lion; both using alike the same arts,

and doublings, when they are chaced. There is a coincidence in extreames: Fear and courage may many times act a∣like, and are not incompatble in the same subject. One may generate the other. Desperation, which is the depth of fear, doth many times (being shar∣pened by necessity) excite courage, and beget hope. Temerity, which is the hight of courage, doth often (from experi∣ence of danger) breed caution, which is a discreet fear. Lord grant me such a sanctified commixture of both these af∣fections in the temper of my mind, that in the greatest trials, and dangers, when I am most put to preserve my self, I may use no other doublings than such as may consist with the Hare and the Lion, with a fear of thee, and a bouldness in thee; that even at what time I am afraid, I may trust in thee; so shall I whilst I fear thee, fear no∣thing.

It is a great disadvantage in hunting, to meet with too much game, and to have several Hares on foot at once; and it is

no otherwise in the pursuit of worldly affairs; they that buisy themselves in starting several designes, and projects to∣gether, do nothing but change, and run from one think to another, and so come home with their labour for their paines; like those pragmatical Thessa∣lonians, they are buisy bodies working not at all; all they do comes to nothing. Lord, whilst others loose themselves in the vanity of their own imaginations, and are incumbred in many things, and those (for the most part) farr from any tendency to the service of Christ; let it be the delight of my Soul, and the indevour of my life, to hunt after the one thing needful, and to fix my choice upon that good part, which shall not be taken away from me. O my God, thou art the only adequate object of my desires; thou hast promised that thou wilt be found of those that seek thee, and that thou wilt not be sought in vain. My Soul follows hard after thee (thee, and none but thee) O let me find thee, and be found in thee; So shall I at once, take

and be taken; apprehend, and be ap∣prehended, and in both be made everlast∣ingly happy.

MEDITAT. XX. Of Fishing.

OF all recreations, Fishing is the most agreeable to contemplative Spirits, as being a sedate quiet sport; free from those clamours, and distur∣bances of the senses, which usually ac∣company other pleasures of the field; and not so ingrossing the mind, but that withal it is at a freedom to intertain it self with good thoughts, in which re∣spect, it is by some of the School, pre∣ferred before hunting.

But yet how delightful so ever it may be as a recreation, it is but a poor bnisiness to make a trade of; and if we were called to it under that notion, we should quickly be ready to leave our nets, to follow a more beneficial vocati∣on:

Such is the power and oper∣ation of fancy upon the will, that by representing the pleasure of freedom un∣to it (which it naturally affecteth) it can induce it to like or dislike the same thing, more or less, according to the liberty, or constraint, wherewith it act∣eth it. There is a pleasure in willing.

But how hath God honored this despicable trade, and the followers of it, with his presence, and miracles? passing by the wisemen after the flesh, the migh∣ty, the noble; and choosing a few sim∣ple, weak, mean Fishermen, with their cloths hardly dry upon their backs, to promulgate the glad tidings of his Gos∣pel to every creature; calling them from mending their nets, to mend, and reforme the world? O the infinite wisdom of the foolishness of God! O the unresistable strength of his weakness. Blessed be God for Jesus Christ; and let no flesh glory in is presence!

It hath even been the ambition of the Devil, to be like the most High, in the immitation of his actings. As Christ

hath his Fishers of men, so hath that wicked one his, who many times (to conceal themselves from the eye of the world, and that there may be the less perspective into their methods) do croude into Christ's boat, and put hard to have an oare in it, as if they were of his gang; transforming them∣selves into his Ministers of righteousness. It is the misery of the Sons of men, that many times they are not so care∣full, as they should be, to try the Spi∣rits whether they be of God, or no; whether it be a good, or a bad Angel that is stirring in the waters: And hence it is that for want of distinguishing rightly between the motions of the Spi∣rit of Christ, and the suggestions, and illusions of the Devil, it comes to pass that so many fall into the snare of the Devil, and are caught by him, as the fishes that are taken in an evil net.

They that are Masters at this Sport, do not when a fish bites, immediatly twitch him up, but having struck him,

give him line, and let him seemingly run away with the baite, whereby to booke him the more surely, and at last, with the more ease to draw him up. It is no otherwise, when a sinner bites at a temptation, and the Devil strikes him, he is contented to give him Scope to enjoy the pleasure of his sin for a season, but it is to have the surer hold of him, and to make a pray of him with the less trouble.

When fish are inclined to bite, a small thing, a flie, or the very likness of a flie, an artificial flie, will be a suf∣ficient bate for them. We are ready to smile at the simplicity of those poor Creatures, to see them so easily de∣ceived; and yet do not consider with what facility we our selves are taken, when we catch at the worthless vanities of the world; and are taken with the appearances of honour, riches, pleasures, which are deceitful, and have nothing in them. But that is true, which the plain dealing Confessor told Philip the Second of Spain (who doted upon

a Lady, that was none of the handsom∣est) It is all one to the Devil, how, or by what meanes he takes a man, (whether with an ill favoured face, or with a Beauty) his pleasure lyes in the taking; and those are welcomest to him that will be damned with the most ease.

It is ordinary with those that de∣light in fishing, to bait certain places where the fish are aptest to frequent; but in this point, the Devil hath the advantage above all others, that he hath his baits in all places; Count, Coun∣try, Pulpit, Bench; fitted for all con∣ditions, all ages, all complexions; a∣greeable to all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the Pride of life. Who can escape his snares? O my God, when I reflect upon mine own condition, how mi∣serable do I find it to be? which of all his baits (that have fallen within my reach) have I not bitten at, and swallow∣ed? and now how many hooks have I within me? where is the sweetness, where is the pleasure, where is the profit

of those sins whereof I am now a∣shamed? now by a sad experience I find, that as I have caught the baits, so the hookes have caught me. Who shall deliver me? Who can? None can, and will, but that graci∣ous ever blessed Redeemer, who gave himself a ranson for me, and by his own death hath made a way for me to escape; who hath not only freed me, but taken him that took me; and that, by being taken himself by him; conquering him by death, that had the power of death; and by the advan∣tage of that victory, leading my cap∣tivity captive. What shall I render? To him be all glory, and praise and thanks.

MEDITAT. XXI. Ʋpon the Sun-setting.

BY what insensible degrees, and yet how speedily, hath the Sun travel∣led his day's journy? it was but some hour's since, that he arose, and shew∣ed himself to our Hemisphere from the uttermost end of Heaven, and he hath allready finished his Circuit to the o∣ther end thereof. Certainly day unto day uttereth speech, and in their silent language seem to put me in remem∣brance, that I am going, or rather (as Job phraseth it) posting my circuit too from earth to earth: From the dust, out of which I was originally taken, to the dust, into which I must finally be re∣solved.

When I look back to the morning of my life, and consider my time past, methinks it is but a very little while, since I came out of the Chamber of

my Mothers Womb. How soon is the tale of threescore and seven years told? shall I say, according to the impropriety of some Languages, that I have so ma∣ny years? nay rather I may say, I have them not; according to the ex∣pression of Hezekiah (tho something in another sense) so much of mine age is departed from me; and is as dead, as nothing to me. None can say he is the same Yesterday, and to day, but he that is for ever. How is my time stolen away, and so much of my self gone with it? before I can well take notice, what a clock it is with me, I find my self in the evening, or rather the night of mine age. It is a sad thing for a man to sleep out his best time (as it was fabled of Epimenides) and not to wake till he be old; and then to bid the world good morrow, when the world may bid him good night. Lord, since the time past is so fluid, and transitory, that it is gone be∣fore I can say what it is; and the time to come so un certain, that I know not

what may be to morrow; no not what the next moment may bring forth; teach me, I beseech thee; so to husband my time present, that in this my day, or ra∣ther in this my Now (which is all I can call mine) I may so live to thy praise, and glory, as I would live mine eterni∣ty hereafter, which (without past, or future) is an everlasting present.

The motion of this glorious Planet is hardly to be discerned, but in rising and setting of it; at noon, when it is at the height, it seems to be at a stay, as if it were there to stand still, as it did upon Gibeon. The like may be observ∣ed in the course, and progress of our lives; when we are gotten up to our middle age, which is our Meridian (when we are in the strength of our years) we appear to be at a kind of consisten∣cy; not sensible of any motion to∣ward our appointed change; but in the beginning and ending of our dayes, we may without any great difficulty remark how we gradually rise, and set. It is apparent how our infancy grows up from a sensitive, to a rational condi∣tion;

and how by little, and little, our reason comes to maturity; from speaking as Children, understanding as Children, and thinking as Children, we become in time men, and put away childish things. And so likewise, when the evil daies o∣vertake us, and the years wherein we have no pleasure, it is for the most part easie to observe, by what degrees our sha∣dow goes down. Lord I am now near my Sun set, and cannot but plainly see my self hastening to the place of my long home; my Sun, and Light, and Moon, and stars grow dark, the Clouds return after the rain, and one infirmity follows upon another: O let these signs of my approaching night, be as so many tolls of my passing Bell to warn me that my daies are extinct, and that my grave is ready for me, that accordingly I may make my self ready for my grave, and not suffer my self to fall asleep when I should be fitting my self to go to bed.

With what a full faced, glorious As∣pect, doth the Sun now look upon this inferior world, and in his lowest condi∣tion, appear greater, than at another time?

it is no otherwise with a noble hearted Christian, who though he be never so low laid in the opinion of the World, yet retaineth an ••ndejected countenance, and breaketh thorough all interpositions, with so much the greater bravery, and lustre.

It is a pleasing sight to see the Sun in his going down, how he doth not on∣ly shew forth his own resplendency to the uttermost, but many times, out of his abundance, irradiate the Clouds about him, and guild, and enamel them with his departing beams. A dying Saint is a setting Sun, and in his going down to the grave doth not only shew his own brightness, and glory, but often commu∣nicates the divine tincture thereof to all about him, and gives them occasion by the light thereof, to glorifie their father, which is in heaven. Let the foolish World adore the rising Sun, God grant I may set clear, and by my dying exam∣ple illustrate others, and thereby in∣duce them to praise him, Better is the end of a thing than the beginning, and the day of death, than the day of birth.

But let the Sun set never so clear, we see it many times followed by mists, and noisom vapours (the ancient Per∣sians sent their imprecations and curses after it): there is no person so innocent, but when he is laid in his grave, may have his memory bemisted (as it were) and clouded by the stinking vapours of malice, and envy. Our Saviour himself (that Sun of righteousness) was no sooner set (tho with so much glory, that the be∣holders, even his enemies, acknowledg∣ed him to be the Son of God) but the chief Priest and Pharisees endeavoured to cover his sacred name with darkness, aspersing him as a deceiver, and bribing the Guards to belie his Resurrection: if they have done these things in the green tree, what can the drie expect? the disciple is not above his Master; and the charities of the World are still the same,

It is a sad thing to have a guilty soul: this Sunset, which otherwise I might be∣hold with comfort, as putting me in mind of the approaching time of my rest, is to me an exprobration; at once re∣membring me of the command, not to

suffer the Sun to go down upon my wrath; and condemning me for suffering so many Suns to go down in my passion. O my God, if thou shouldst deal with me according to my deserts, in what a Cloud should I set? But thy goodness shines in my wickedness. O let the brightness thereof dispel, and scatter those Clouds that are in my perverse nature; and then although the days of my life have been frequently overcast by my exorbitant passions, I shall hope in this evening of it, to go down in the serenity of thy mercy, and to set in thy love!

But what do I speak of rising, and going down, as if the Sun went higher, or lower, at one time then another, and were subject to excentrick motions? that glorious luminary, however it appears unto us, is constant to one, and the same rode; and is as high at night, as it is at noon, or morning. It is so with a mind well trained, and exercised in vertue, and piety; which although, as to out∣ward things, it may appear subject to va∣riations, (now and then abused, now and then abounding) yet in it self, it is

above all sublunary changes, neither ela∣ted, nor dejected, and keepeth an even course, in a constant equi-distance from earth, and all earthly things. Lord give me that mind, that whatever my state and condition be, I may keep still at one, and the same height, and in a regular motion; that in all mutations, I may be one, and the same man: So shall I be hap∣py in my conformity to thee, who art ever the same, without shadow of change.

But the Sun is set, and how soon are all things benighted with it? what are all the comforts of this World, when the light of Gods countenance is withdrawn? when thou O Lord hidest thy face, it is no marvel if we be troubled. As thy light is a rejoycing to us, so the privati∣on of it, is at once both uncomfortable, and dangerous: thou makest darkness, and it is night, wherein all the beasts of the forrest do creep forth: in a spiritual sense, when it is night within us, all our lusts, and corruptions are in motion, and that roaring Lion, that seeks to devour us, is most stirring and active: darkness, and cruel habitations go together. O thou

who art the true light of the World, and whom no darkness can comprehend; en∣lighten my darkness; be my Sun, and I shall have no need of this Sun; be my shield, and I shall fear no danger: I shall be at once safe, and happy.

If the Sun when it sets should bid us goodnight for all, what a sad world would there be at his departure? now we are not troubled at it, because we know it will rise again: it should be no otherwise with us upon the departure of godly friends and relations: why should we grieve so immoderately, many times, for them, as if we had no hope, when we know that they shall as surely rise again at the last day, as the Sun shall arise the next morning? we have the assurance of Gods own word for it, that if we believe that Jesus died, and rose again, even so those also which sleep in Jesus he will bring with him; and that, with this further advantage to them, that they shall then appear in glory, and shine like the Sun in the Kingdome of their father, never to set more: what would we have more? Lord teach us to comfort one another with athewwords.

It is observed that a clear evening, is for the most part, a forerunner of a fair morning, especially if (as our Saviour himself hath told us) the Skie be red. O my God, grant that at my last end, I may leave a clear memory behind me, and discern a red skie over me, tinctur∣ed with his most precious blood; and it shall be a prognostick to me of an e∣verlastingly happy good morrow.

MEDITAT. XXII. Ʋpon my lying down to rest.

MEthinks, I have had a long daies journey in the world, and a wed∣risome; accompanied with blustering weather, and rugged ill waies; and now, a bed would do well: there is a time to e∣very purpose under heaven; a time to tra∣vel, and a time to rest; a time to wake, and a time to sleep; a time to be born, and a time to die; the longest day hath a night, and the longest life, a death; the one is the emblem of the other: those

fathers before the floud, Adam, Jared, Methusalem, that made nothing of a journey of nine hundred years, and up∣wards, had their bed time, as well as their rising; and after their reckoning of so many Ages, what do we read of them, but that they died, and they died, and they died? this is the end of all men, and the living will lay it to heart! It is late, and I cannot but confess I am tir∣ed, and my bones would gladly be at rest; yet such is my infirmity, that when death is ready to come in, to help me to bed, I am startled, and more willing to sit up, and keep him out of doors, like Je∣horams Messenger, then to be troubled with such an attendance. O my soul, what is the matter? it is for children to apprehend bull-beggers, and to be afraid to lie to sleep in the dark: be not frighted with a name: death is no more the thing he was; the King of fear is departed; death is dead, as to any hurt it can do thee; and yet I may say, so far alive, as to serve thee: he is thine, without any more tergiversations; therefore, O my Soul, prepare thy self for thy last rest, and

in order thereunto, acquaint thy self with this pale complexioned Servant be∣fore hand, that his face may not be strange unto thee: we do not affect to have strangers about us, to help us off with our cloths, but such as we know well: ac∣custom thy self to entertain communion with him; go down to the Potters house, as God commanded the Prophet; that is, as some Expositors say, descend to the consideration of mortality; and so live to day, as if thou wert to be taken from me to night; so shall death never be a sur∣prise to thee, but whensoever he comes, he shall find thee ready for him: That person is in a sad condition, that looks for death, and cannot find it; but he is in a sadder, whom death finds, before he looks for it.

The way to sleep well at night, is to exercise well in the day: the sleep of a labouring man is sweet, saith the Preacher. Death is but a long sleep; and if we would hereafter rest with happiness from our labours, we must so labour here, that our works may follow us hereafter: if we so sleep, we shall do well!

We are not troubled when we lie down to take our natural rest, upon the confidence we have in Gods ordinary providence, that he will raise us up a∣gain; why should Christians, that do, or should know the Scriptures, and the power of God, be more anxious, and doubtful of their eternal, then of their natural rest? this is nothing but our infidelity, for upon a true account there is more uncertainty of our waking out of our beds, then there is of our rising out of our graves. None can tell when he lies down, whether he shall see any to morrow in this World, or rise no more till the Heavens be no more, but as to our Resurrection, we are al∣ready so far raised, as Christ our head is risen, who is our resurrection, and our life. Lord increase our faith!

But what is it troubles us? is it the thought, that we shall live no longer? We may as well lament that we were born no sooner; it is but a measuring cast, between the time when we were not, and the time when we shall ••ot be, one is as inconsiderable as the o∣ther

if it be a matter of sorrow to think that we are mortal, it may be a just cause of rejoycing, to consider that we are so near being immortal: it was (as some hold) the mercy of God, af∣ter our first Parents had eaten of the forbidden fruit, and thereby made them∣selves, and their posterity miserable, to pre∣vent them that they should not eat of the tree of life; for then both they, and we, had been everlastingly miserable. Mortality is a mercy!

But possibly it is not death, but dy∣ing (that which the Philosopher calls, the pomp of death) that is so much ap∣prehended: the pangs and convulsions of death have a horrid Aspect: certain∣ly in those things, we do many times but fright our selves with our own fancies; for when we think those agonies insupportable, nature is spent, and often sensless. But admitting the worst; as our desire to sleep makes us bear with some tossings, and tumb∣lings, and disquietings, before we can well settle to rest; so should our de∣sire to depart, and to sleep in Jesus, pre∣vail

with us to endure those sufferings, which are but for a moment, but are fol∣lowed with a quiet happy rest in the bo∣some of our Saviour to all eternity.

But it is a dismal thing to flesh and bloud, to think that after death, we must lie rotting, and corrupting in a dark silent grave; and that when we are re∣duced to dust, as we were grass, when we lived (in regard of our frailty) so we may come to be grass again after we are dead (in a litteral sense) and so pass away into several other substances: this, I confess, might justifie some me∣lancholy thoughts, if we had no hope; But when we are taught of God, that after this Life ended, our spirit shall return unto God who gave it: and that after this World ended, our dust shall be raised again, and recompacted into a glorious body, cloathed with immortality, and honour, and reunited to our Soul; both, to be for ever with the Lord; we may bid defiance both to death, and the grave. O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?

But what needs all this perswasi∣on?

is it in our choice, whether to die, or not? if we must die (as die we must) it is a perfect folly to be unwilling to do that, which of necessity we must do, whe∣ther we will, or not: take courage then, O my Soul, and act thy last part hand∣somely: it is a degree toward dying well, to be willing to die?

But I am dead; what do I talk of dy∣ing, or the fear of dying? my whole life, is but a continued death. I have more reason to be apprehensive of my living, then of my dying; for I can ne∣ver hope to live, till I die; that which we call death, being in truth, but the dying day of our death, and the birth day of our everlasting life.

Nay, I am not only dead, but in a great part buried: how much of my self, is already laid in the dust? death hath taken three of my ribs from me, and so many of my limbs, as I have lost chil∣dren by his stroke. My dearest rela∣tions are gon to bed before me; to what purpose serves this fragment, this re∣mainder of me here? Lord, take all to thee; let me not lie half in the bed, and

half out: thy bed is not too little, nor thy coverlet too narrow, but thou hast room enough for me: receive me I humbly beseech thee, as thine; I am thine, O save me. Lord now lettest thou thy Ser∣vant depart in peace! In thy name, I lay me down to rest.

FINIS.

Notes

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  Florus l. ••. 1. 1••.