Self knowledge: a treatise, shewing the nature and benefit of that important science, and the way to attain it. : Intermixed with various reflections and observations on human nature. / By John Mason, A.M. ; [Two lines of quotations]

A TREATISE OF SELF KNOWLEDGE.

PART I.

CHAP. I.

The Nature and Importance of the Subject.

A DESIRE of knowledge is natural to the mind of man. And nothing discovers the true quality and disposition of the mind more, than the particular kind of knowledge it is most fond of.

Thus we see that low and little minds are most delighted with the knowledge of trifles; as in children. An indolent mind, with that which

serves only for amusements or the entertainment of the fancy. A curious mind is best pleased with facts. A judicious penetrating mind, with demonstration and mathematical science. A worldly mind esteems no knowledge like that of the world. But a wise and and pious man before all other kinds of knowl|edge perfers that of GOD and his own soul.

But some kind of knowledge 〈◊〉〈◊〉 other the mind is continually craving after. And by considering what that is, its prevailing turn and temper may easily be known.

This desire of knowledge, like other affections planted in our nature, will be very apt to lead us wrong, if it be not well regulated. When it is directed to improper objects, or pursued in a wrong manner, it degenerates into a vain and criminal curiosity. A fatal instance of this in our first par|ents we have upon sacred record; the unhappy effects of which are but too visible in all.

Self knowledge is the subject of the ensuing treatise. A subject which the more I think of, the more important and extensive it appears. So im|portant that every branch of it seems absolutely necessary to the right government of the life and temper. And so extensive, that the nearer view we take of its several branches, the more are still opening to view, as nearly connected with it as the other. Like what we find in microscopical observa|tions on natural objects. The better the glasses, and the nearer the scrutiny, the more wonders we ex|plore; and the more surprising discoveries we make

of certain properties, parts or affections belonging to them, which were never before thought of. For in order to a true self knowledge, the human mind, with its various powers and operations, must be narrowly inspected; all its secret bendings and doublings displayed. Otherwise our self acquaint|ance will be but very partial and defective; and the heart after all will deceive us. So that in treat|ing this subject there is no small danger, either of doing injury to it, by slight and superficial inquest on the one hand, or of running into a research too minute and philosophical for common use on the other. The two extremes I shall keep in my eye, and endeavour to steer a middle course between them.

Know thyself, is one of the most useful and com|prehensive precepts in the whole moral system. And it is well known in how great a veneration this maxim was held by the ancients; and in how high esteem the duty of self examination as necessa|ry to it.

Thales the Milesian is said to be the first author of it * 1.1. Who used to say, that for a man to know him|self is the hardest thing in the world* 1.2. It was after|wards adopted by Chylon the Lacedemonian; and is one of those three precepts which P••ny affirms to have been consecrated at Delphos in golden letters. It was afterwards greatly admired and frequently

used by others * 1.3. Till at length, it acquired the authority of a divine oracle; and was supposed to have been given originally by Apollo himself. Of which general opinion Cicero gives us this reason; "Because it hath such a weight of sense and wis|dom in it as appears too great to be attributed to any man * 1.4." And this opinion of its coming orig|inally from Apollo himself, perhaps was the reason that it was written in golden capitals over the door of his temple at Delphos.

And why this excellent precept should not be held in as high esteem in the christian world as it was in the heathen, is hard to conceive. Human nature is the same now as it was then. The heart is as deceitful; and the necessity of watching, knowing, and keeping it, the same. Nor are we less assured that this precept is divine. Nay, we have a much greater assurance of this than heathens had; they supposed it came down from heaven, we know it did; what they conjectured, we are sure of. For this sacred oracle is dictated to us in a manifold light, and explained to us in various views by the holy spirit, in that revelation which GOD hath been pleased to give us as our guide to duty and happiness; by which as in a glass we may survey ourselves, and know what manner of persons we are. * 1.5

This discovers ourselves to us; pierces into the inmost recesses of the mind: Strips off every dis|guise; lays open the inward part; makes a strict scrutiny into the very soul and spirit; and crit|ically judges of the thoughts and intents of the heart * 1.6. It shews us with what exactness and care we are to search and try our spirits, examine ourselves, and watch our ways, and keep our hearts, in order to

acquire this important self science; which it often calls us to do. Examine yourselves.—Prove your own selves; know you not yourselves * 1.7? Let a man examine himself * 1.8. Our saviour upbraids his disciples with their self ignorance, in not knowing what manner of spirits they were of * 1.9. And saith the apostle, If a man (through self ignorance) thinketh himself to be some|thing, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every man prove his work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself, and not in another * 1.10. Here we are com|manded, instead of judging others, to judge our|selves; and to avoid the inexcusable ras••ness of con|demning others for the very crimes we ourselves are guilty of, Rom. ii. 1, 21, 22. which a self igno|rant man is very apt to do; nay to be more offend|ed at a small blemish in another's character, than at a greater in his own; which folly, self ignorance, and hypocrisy, our saviour with just severity ani|madverts upon, Matt. vii. 3—5.

And what stress was laid upon this under the Old Testament dispensation appears sufficiently from those expressions.—Keep thy heart with all dili|gence. * 1.11 Commune with your own heart. * 1.12 Search me, O GOD, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts. * 1.13 Examine me, O LORD, and prove me; try my reins and my heart. * 1.14 Let us search and try our ways. * 1.15 Recollect yourselves, O nation not desired * 1.16 * 1.17.—And all this is as necessary to that self acquaintance which is the only proper basis of solid peace * 1.18.

Were mankind but more generally convinced of the importance and necessity of this self knowl|edge, and possessed with a due esteem for it; did they but know the true way to attain it; and under a proper sense of its excellence and the fatal effects of self ignorance, did they but make it their business and study every day to cultivate it; how soon should we find a happy alteration in the man|ners

and spirits of men!—But the misery of it is, men will not think; will not employ their thoughts in good earnest, about the things which most of all deserve and demand them. By which unaccount|able indolence and aversion to self reflection, they are led blindfold and insensibly into the most dan|gerous paths of infidelity and wickedness, as the Jews were heretofore; of whose amazing ingrati|tude and apostacy GOD himself assigns this single cause—* 1.19 My people do not consider * 1.20

Self knowledge is that acquaintance with ourselves, which shews us what we are, and do, and ought to be, and do, in order to our living comfortably and usefully here, and happily hereafter. The means of it is, self examination; the end of it self government, and self fruition.—It principally consists in the knowledge of our souls; which is attained by a par|ticular attention to their various powers, capacities, passions, inclinations, operations, state, happiness and temper. For a man's soul is properly himself, Matt. xvi. 26. compared with Luke ix. 25. * 1.21. The body is but the house, the soul is the tenant that

inhabits it; the body is the instrument, the soul the artist that directs it * 1.22.

This science, which is to be the subject of the ensuing treatise, hath these three peculiar proper|ties in it, which distinguish it from, and render it preferable to all other.—1. It is equally attainable by all. It requires no strength of memory, no force of genius, no depth of penetration, as many 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 do, to come at a tolerable degree of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with them; which therefore renders them in|accessible by the greatest part of mankind. Nor is it placed out of their reach through a want of op|portunity, and proper assistance and direction how to acquire it; as many other parts of learning are. Every one of a common capacity hath the oppor|tunity

and ability to attain it, if he will but recol|lect his rambling thoughts, turn them in upon him|self, watch the motions of his heart, and compare them with his rule.—2. It is of equal importance to all—and of the highest importance to every one * 1.23. Other sciences are suited to the various conditions of life. Some, more necessary to some; other, to others. But this equally concerns every one that hath an immortal soul, whose final happiness he desires and seeks.—3. Other knowledge is very apt to make a man vain; this always keeps him humble. Nay, it is for want of this knowledge that men are vain of that they have. Knowledge puffeth up * 1.24. A small degree of knowledge often hath this effect on weak minds. And the reason why great ••attainments in it have not so generally the same effect is, because they open and enlarge the views of the mind so far, as to let into it at the same time a good degree of self knowledge. For the more true knowledge a man hath, the more sensible he is of the want of it; which keeps him humble.

And now, reader, whoever thou art, whatever be thy character, station, or distinction in life, if thou art afraid to look into thine heart, and hast no in|clination to self acquaintance, read no farther; lay aside this book; for thou wilt find nothing here that will flatter thy self esteem; but perhaps some|thing

that may abate it. But if thou art desirous to cultivate this important kind of knowledge, and to live no longer a stranger to thyself, proceed; and keep thy eye open to thine own image, with whatever unexpected detormity it may present it|self to thee; and patiently attend, whilst, by divine assistance, I endeavour to lay open thine own heart to thee, and to lead thee to the true knowledge of thyself in the following chapters.

CHAP. II.

The several Branches of Self Knowledge. We must know what Sort of Creatures we are, and what we shall be.

THAT we may have a more distinct and or|derly view of this subject, I shall here con|sider the several branches of self knowledge; or some of the chief particulars wherein it consists. Whereby perhaps it will appear to be a more co|pious and comprehensive science than we imagine. And,

1. To know ourselves, is to know and seriously con|sider what sort of creatures we are, and what we shall be.

1. What we are.

Man is a complex being, 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 a tri|partite person; or a compound creature made up of three distinct parts, viz. the body, which is the earthly or mortal part of him; the soul, which is

the animal or sensitive part; and the spirit or mind, which is the rational and immortal part. * 1.25—Each of these three parts have their respective offices assigned them. And a man then acts becoming himself, when he keeps them employed in their proper functions, and preserves their natural subordina|tion.—But it is not enough to know this merely as a point of speculation; we must pursue and re|volve the thought, and urge the consideration to all the purposes of a practical self acquaintance.

We are not all body, nor mere animal creatures. We find we have a more noble nature than the in|animate or brutal part of the creation. We can not only move and act freely, but we observe in our|selves a capacity of reflection, study, and forecast; and various mental operations, which irrational animals discover no symptoms of. Our souls there|fore must be of a more excellent nature than theirs; and from the power of thought with which they are endowed, they are proved to be immaterial sub|stances. And consequently in their own nature capable of immortality. And that they are actual|ly immortal, or will never die, the sacred scriptures do abundantly testify * 1.26.—Let us then hereupon seri|ously recollect ourselves in the following soliloquy.

"O my soul, look back but a few years; and thou wast nothing!—And how didst thou spring out of that nothing?—Thou couldst not make thyself. That is quite impossible.—Most certain it is, that that Almighty, self existent and eternal power, which made the world, made thee also out of no|thing. Called thee into being when thou wast not; gave thee these reasoning and reflecting faculties, which thou art now employing in searching out the end and happiness of thy nature. It was He, O my soul, that made thee intelligent and immor|tal. It was he that placed thee in this body, as in a prison; where thy capacities are cramped, thy desires debased, and thy liberty lost.—It was he that sent thee into this world, which by all circumstan|ces appears to be a state of short discipline and tri|al. And wherefore did he place thee here, when he might have made thee a more free, unconfined, and happy spirit?—But check that thought; it looks like a too presumptuous curiosity. A more needful and important inquiry is—What did he place thee here for?—And what doth he expect

from thee whilst thou art here?—What part hath he allotted me to act on the stage of human life; where He, angels, and men, are spectators of my behaviour? The part he hath given me to act here is, doubtless, a very important one; because it is for eternity * 1.27. And what is it, but to live up to the dignity of my rational and intellectual na|ture; and as becomes a creature born for im|mortality?

"And tell me, O my soul, (for as I am now about to cultivate a better acquaintance with thee, to whom I have been too long a stranger, I must try thee, and put many a close question to thee,) tell me I say, whilst thou confinest thy desires to sen|sual gratifications, wherein dost thou differ from the beasts that perish? Captivated by bodily ap|petites, dost thou not act beneath thyself? Dost thou not put thyself upon a level with the lower class of beings, which were made to serve thee, of|fer an indignity to thyself, and despise the work of thy Maker's hands? O remember thy heavenly extract; remember thou art a spirit, Check then the solicitations of the flesh; and dare to do noth|ing that may diminish thy native excellence, dis|honour thy high original, or degrade thy noble na|ture.

* 1.28.—But let me still urge it. Consider, I say, O my soul, that thou art an immortal spirit. Thy body dies; but thou, thou must live forever, and thine eternity will take its tincture from the manner of thy behaviour, and the habits thou contractest, during this thy short copartnership with flesh and blood. O! do nothing now, but what thou may|est with pleasure look back upon a million of ages hence. For know, O my soul, that thy self con|sciousness, and reflecting faculties, will not leave thee with thy body; but will follow thee after death, and be the instrument of unspeakable pleasure or torment to thee in that separate state of existence * 1.29."

2. In order to a full acquaintance with ourselves, we must endeavour to know not only what we are, but what we shall be.

And O! what different creatures shall we soon be, from what we now are! Let us look forwards

then, and frequently glance our thoughts towards death; though they cannot penetrate the darkness of that passage, or reach the state behind it. That lies veiled from the eyes of our mind; and the great GOD hath not thought fit to throw so much light upon it, as to satisfy the anxious and inquisitive de|sires the soul hath to know it. However, let us make the best use we can of that little light which scripture and reason have let in upon this dark and important subject.

"Compose thy thoughts, O my soul, and imag|ine how it will fare with thee, when thou goest a naked, unimbodied spirit into a world, an unknown world of spirits, with all thy self consciousness about thee, where no material object shall strike thine eye; and where thy dear partner and com|panion the body cannot come nigh thee. But where without it thou wilt be sensible of the most noble satisfactions, or the most exquisite pains. Embarked in death, thy passage will be dark; and the shore on which it will land thee, altogether strange and unknown.—It doth not yet appear what we shall be * 1.30"

That revelation, which GOD hath been pleased to make of his will to mankind, was designed rath|er to fit us for the future happiness, and direct our way to it, than open to us the particular glories of it; or distinctly shew us what it is. This it hath left still very much a mystery; to check our too curious inquiries into the nature of it, and to bend our thoughts more intently to that which more concerns us, viz. an habitual preparation for it. And what that is, we cannot be ignorant, if we be|lieve either our bible or our reason. For both these assure us, that that which makes us like to GOD, is the only thing that can fit us for the enjoyment of him. Here then let us hold. Let our great concern be

to be holy as he is holy. And then, then only, are we sure to enjoy him, in whose light we shall see light. And be the future state of existence what it will, we shall some way be happy there. And much more happy than we can now conceive; though in what particular manner we know not, because GOD hath not revealed it.

CHAP. III.

The several Relations wherein we stand to GOD, to CHRIST, and our fellow creatures.

II. SELF knowledge requires us to be well acquaint|ed with the various relations in which we stand to other beings, and the several duties that result from those relations. And,

1. Our first and principal concern is to consider the relation wherein we stand to him who gave us being.

We are the creatures of his hand, and the ob|jects of his care. His power upholds the being his goodness gave us. His bounty accommodates us with the blessings of this life, and his grace provides for us the happiness of a better.—Nor are we merely his creatures, but his rational and intelli|gent creatures. It is the dignity of our natur••l, that we are capable of knowing and enjoying him that made us. And as the rational creatures of GOD, there are two relations especially that we bear to him; the frequent consideration of which

is absolutely necessary to a right self knowledge. For as our Creator, he is our king and father. And as his creatures we are the subjects of his kingdom, and the children of his family.

1. We are the subjects of his kingdom. And as such we are bound,

1. To yield a faithful obedience to the laws of his kingdom.—And the advantages by which these come recommended to us above all human laws are many.—They are calculated for the private in|terest of every one, as well as that of the publick; and are designed to promote our present, as well as our future happiness.—They are plainly and explic|itly published; easily understood; and in fair and legible characters writ in every man's heart; and the wisdom, reason, and necessity of them are readi|ly discerned.—They are urged with the most mighty motives that can possible affect the human heart. And if any of them are difficult, the most effectual grace is freely offered to encourage and assist our obedience: Advantages which no human laws have to enforce the observance of them.—2. As his subjects we must readily pay him the homage due to his sovereignty. And this is no less than the homage of the heart; humbly acknowledging that we hold every thing of him, and have every thing from him. Earthly princes are forced to be con|tent with verbal acknowledgments, or mere form|al homage. For they can command nothing but what is external. But GOD, who knows and looks

at the hearts of all his creatures, will accept of nothing but what comes from thence. He demands the adoration of our whole souls, which is most justly due to him who formed them, and gave them the very capacities to know and adore him.—3. As faithful subjects, we must cheerfully pay him the tribute he requires of us. This is not like the trib|ute which earthly kings exact; who as much de|pend upon their subjects for the support of their power, as their subjects do upon them for the pro|tection of their property. But the tribute GOD requires of us, is a tribute of praise and honour, which he stands in no need of from us: For his power is independent, and his glory immutable; and he is infinitely able of himself to support the dignity of his universal government. But it is the most natural duty we owe to him as creatures. For to praise him, is only to shew forth his praise; to glorify him, to celebrate his glory; and to honour him, is to render him and his ways honourable in the eyes and esteem of others. And as this is the most natural duty that creatures owe to their crea|tor, so it is a tribute he requires of every one of them in proportion to their respective talents and abilities to pay it.—4. As dutiful subjects, we must contentedly and quietly submit to the methods and administrations of his government, however dark, involved or intricate. All governments have their arcana imperii, or secrets of state; which common subjects cannot penetrate. And therefore they

cannot competently judge of the wisdom or recti|tude of certain publick measures; because they are ignorant either of the springs of them, or the ends 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them, or the expediency of the means arising from the particular situation of things in the pres|ent juncture. And how much truer is this with relation to GOD's government of the world; whose wisdom is far above our reach, and whose ways are not as ours. Whatever then may be the present as|pect and appearance of things, as dutiful subjects we are bound to acquiesce; to ascribe wisdom and righteousness to our maker, in confidence that the king and judge of all the earth will do right.—Again, 5. As good subjects of GOD's kingdom, we are bound to pay a due regard and reverence to his ministers; especially if they discover an uncorrupt|ed fidelity to his cause, and a pure unaffected goal for his honour; if they do not seek their own in|terest more than that of their divine master. The ministers of earthly princes too often do this, and it would be happy if all the ministers and ambassa|dors of the heavenly king were intirely clear of the imputation. It is no uncommon thing for the honour of an earthly monarch to be wounded through the sides of his ministers. The defamation and slander that is directly thrown at them is ob|liquely intended against him; and as such it is tak|en. So to attempt to make the ministers of the gospel, in general, the objects of derision, as some do, plainly shews a mind very dissolute and dis|affected to GOD and religion itself; and is to act

a part very unbecoming the dutiful subjects of his kingdom. Lastly. As good subjects, we are to do all we can to promote the interest of his king|dom; by defending the wisdom of his administra|tions, and endeavouring to reconcile others there|unto, under all the darkness and difficulties that may appear therein, in opposition to the profane cen|sures of the prosperous wicked, and the doubts and dismays of the afflicted righteous. This is to act in character as loyal subjects of the king of heaven. And whoever forgets this part of his character, or acts contrary to it, shews a great degree of self ig|norance.

But, 2. As the creatures of GOD, we are not only the subjects of his kingdom, but the children of his fami|ly. And to this relation, and the obligations of it, must we carefully attend, if we would attain the true knowledge of ourselves. We are his children by creation; in which respect he is truly our father. * 1.31 But now, O LORD, thou art our father, we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thine hands. And in a more special sense we are his children by adoption. * 1.32 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. And therefore, 1. We are under the highest obligations to love him as our father. The love of children to parents is found|ed on gratitude for benefits received, which can never be requited; and ought in reason to be propor|tioned to those benefits. And what duty more nat|ural than to love our benefactors? What love and

gratitude then is due to him, from whom we have received the greatest benefit, even that of our be|ing, and every thing that contributes to the com|fort of it?—2. As his children we must honour him; that is, must speak honourably of him, and for him; and carefully avoid every thing that may tend to dishonour his holy name and ways. * 1.33 A son honoureth his father:—If then I be a father, where is mine honour?—3. As our father we are to apply to him for what we want. Whether should chil|dren go, but to their father, for protection, help and relief in every danger, difficulty and distress?—And 4. We must trust his power and wisdom, and paternal goodness, to provide for us, take care of us, and do for us, that which is best; and what that is he knows best. To be anxiously fearful what will become of us, and discontented and per|plexed under the apprehensions of future evils, whilst we are in the hands and under the care of our father which is in heaven, is not to act like children. Earthly parents cannot avert from their children all the calamities they fear, because their wisdom and power are limited; but our all wise and almighty father in heaven can. They may possibly want love and tenderness, but our heaven|ly father cannot. Isa. xlix. 15.—5. As chil|dren, we must quietly acquiesce in his disposals, and not expect to see into the wisdom of all his will. It would be indecent and undutiful in a child to dispute the authority, or question the wisdom, or neglect the orders of his parents every time he

could not discern the reason and design thereof. Much more unreasonable and unbecoming is such a behaviour towards GOD, who giveth not account of any of his matters; whose judgments are unsearchable, and whose ways are past finding out. * 1.34—Lastly, As chil|dren, we must patiently submit to his discipline and correction. Earthly parents may sometimes punish their children through passion, or for their pleasure; but our heavenly father always corrects his for their profit, * 1.35 and only if need be, * 1.36 and never so much as their iniquities deserve. * 1.37—Under his fatherly rebukes then let us be ever humble and submissive.—Such now is the true filial disposition. Such a temper, and such a behaviour should we shew towards GOD, if we would act in character as his children.

These then are the two special relations, which as creatures, we stand in to GOD. And not to act towards him the manner beforementioned, is to shew that we are ignorant of, or have not yet duly considered our obligations to him as his subjects and his children; or that we are as yet ignorant both of GOD and ourselves.—Thus we see how directly the knowledge of ourselves leads us to the knowledge of GOD. So true is the observation of a late pious and very worthy divine, that "He that is a stran|ger to himself, is a stranger to GOD, and to every thing that may denominate him wise and happy * 1.38."

But, 2. In order to know ourselves there is ano|ther important relation we should often think of, and that is, That in which we stand to JESUS CHRIST our Redeemer.

The former was common to us as men; this is peculiar to us as christians, and opens to us a new scene of duties and obligations, which a man can never forget, that does not grossly forget himself. For as christians, we are the disciples, the follow|ers, and the servants of Christ, redeemed by him.

And 1. As the disciples of Christ, we are to learn of Him. To take our religious sentiments only from his gospel, in opposition to all the authorita|tive dictates of men, who are weak and fallible as ourselves. Call no man master on earth. While some affect to distinguish themselves by party names, as the Corinthians formerly did, (for which the Apostle blames them) one saying, I am of Paul; another, I am of Apollos; another, I am of Cephas, * 1.39 let us re|member that we are the disciples of Christ; and in this sense make mention of his name only. It is re|ally injurious to it, to seek to distinguish ourselves by any other. There is more carnality in such par|ty distinctions, denominations and attachments, than many good souls are aware of; though not more than the Apostle Paul (who was unwillingly placed at the head of one himself) hath 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them of. * 1.40—We are of Christ; our concern is, to honour that super••our denomination, by living up to it. And to adhere inflexibly to his gospel 〈◊〉〈◊〉

the only rule of our faith, the guide of our life, and the foundation of our hope; whatever contempt or abuse we may suffer either from the profane or bigotted part of mankind for so doing.—2. As christians we are followers of CHRIST; and there|fore bound to imitate him and copy after that most excellent pattern he hath set us, who hath left us an example that we should follow his steps. * 1.41 To see that the same holy temper be in us which was in him; and to discover it in the same manner that he did, and upon like occasions. To this he calls us, * 1.42 and no man is any further a christian than as he is a fol|lower of Christ; aiming at a more perfect conform|ity to that most perfect example which he hath set us of universal goodness.—3. As christians, we are the servants of CHRIST; and the various duties which servants owe to their masters in any degree, those we owe to him in the highest degree; who expects we should behave ourselves in his service with that fidelity and zeal, and steady regard to his honour and interest, at all times, which we are bound to by virtue of this relation, and to which his unmerited and unlimited goodness and love lays us under infinite obligations.—Lastly, We are moreover his redeemed servants; and as such are un|der the strongest motives to love and trust him.

This deserves to be more particularly considered, because it opens to us another view of the human nature, in which we should often survey ourselves, if we desire to know ourselves; and that is, as de|praved

or degenerate beings. The inward contest we so sensibly feel, at some seasons especially, between a good and a bad principle, (called in scripture lan|guage the flesh and the spirit,) of which some of the wisest heathens seemed not to be ignorant: * 1.43 This, I say, is demonstration that some way or other the human nature has contracted an ill bias, (and how that came about the sacred scriptures have suffici|ently informed us) and that it is not what it was when it came originally out of the hands of its ma|ker; so that the words which St. Paul spake with reference to the Jews in particular, are justly ap|plicable, to the present state of mankind in general, there is none righteous, no not one;—they are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable, there is none that doeth good, no not one. * 1.44

This is a very mortifying thought; but an un|deniable truth, and one of the first principles of that science we are treating of, and very necessary to be attended to, if we would be sensible of the duty and obligations we owe to Christ as the great REDEEM|ER; in which character he appears for the relief and recovery of mankind under this their universal depravity.

The two miserable effects of the human apostacy are, 2. That perverse dispositions grow up in our

minds from early infancy, soon settle into vicious habits, and render us weak, and unwilling to obey the dictates of conscience and reason: This is com|monly called the dominion of sin. Now in both these respects did Christ the Lamb of GOD come to take away the sin of the world; that is, to take away the reigning power of it by the operation of his gracè and its condemning power by the atonement of his blood; to sanctify us by his spirit and justify us by his death; by the former he reconciles us to GOD, and by the latter he reconciles GOD to us * 1.45, and is at once our righteousness and strength. He died to purchase for us the happiness we had forfeited, and sends his grace and spirit to fit us for that happiness he hath thus purchased. So complete is his redemption! so precisely adapted is the remedy he hath provided, to the malady we had contracted!—"O blessed Redeemer of wretched ruined creatures, how unspeakable are the obligations I owe thee! But ah! How insensi|ble am I to those obligations! the saddest symp|tom of degeneracy I find in my nature, is that base ingratitude of heart which renders me so unaffected with thine astonishing compassions. Till I know thee, I cannot know myself: And when I survey

myself may I ever think of thee! May the daily consciousness of my weakness and guilt lead my thoughts to thee; and may every thought of thee kindle in my heart the most ardent glow of grati|tude to thee, O thou divine, compassionate friend, lover, and REDEEMER of mankind!"

Whoever then he be that calls himself a christian, that is, who professes to take the gospel of Christ for a divine revelation, and the only rule of his faith and practice; but at the same time, pays a greater regard to the dictates of men, than to the doctrines of CHRIST; who loses sight of that great example of Christ, which should animate his chris|tian walk, is unconcerned about his service, honour, and interest, and excludes the consideration of his merits and atonement, from his hope of happiness; he forgets that he is a christian; he does not consider in what relation he stands to CHRIST, (which is one great part of his character) and consequently discovers a great degree of self ignorance.

3. Self knowledge moreover implies a due atten|tion to the several relations in which we stand to our fellow creatures: And the obligations that re|sult from thence.

If we know ourselves, we shall remember the condescension, benignity, and love that is due to inferiours: The affability, friendship and kindness we ought to shew to equals: The regard, defer|ence and honour which belong to superiours: And the candour, integrity, and benevolence we owe to all.

The particular duties requisite in these relations are too numerous to be here mentioned. Let it suffice to say, that if a man doth not well consider the several relations of life in which he stands to others, and does not take care to preserve the deco|rum and propriety of those relations, he may justly be charged with self ignorance.

And this is so evident in itself, and so generally allowed, that nothing is more common than to say, when a person does not behave with due decency towards his superiours, such an one does not under|stand himself. But why may not this with equal jus|tice be said of those who act in an ill manner to|wards their inferiours? The expression, I know, is not so often thus applied; but I see no reason why it should not, since one is as common, and as plain an instance of self ignorance as the other. Nay, of the two, perhaps men in general are more apt to be defective in their duty and behaviour towards those beneath them, than they are towards those that are above them. And the reason seems to be, because an apprehension of the displeasure of their superiours, and the detrimental consequences which may ac|crue from thence, may be a check upon them, and engage them to pay the just regards which they ex|pect. But there being no such check to restrain them from violating the duties they owe to inferi|ours, (from whose displeasure they have little to fear) they are more ready under certain temptations to treat them in an unbecoming manner. And as

wisdom and self knowledge will direct a man to be particularly careful, lest he neglect those duties he is most apt to forget; so as to the duties he owes to inferiours, in which he is most in danger of trans|gressing, he ought more strongly to urge upon him|self the indispensable obligations of religion and conscience. And if he does not, but suffers him|self through the violence of ungoverned passion, to be transported into the excesses of rigour, tyranny, and oppression, towards those whom God and na|ture have put into his power, it is certain that he does not know himself; is not acquainted with his own particular weakness; is ignorant of the duty of his relation; and whatever he may think of him|self, hath not the true spirit of government; because he wants the art of self government. For he that is unable to govern himself, can never be fit to gov|ern others.

Would we know ourselves then, we must consider ourselves as creatures, as christians, and as men; and remember the obligations which, as such, we are under to GOD, to CHRIST, and our fellow men; in the several relations we bear to them, in order to maintain the propriety, and fulfil the duties of those relations.

CHAP. IV.

We must duly consider the Rank and Station of Life in which Providence has placed us, and what it is that becomes and adorns it.

III. A MAN that knows himself, will deliberately consider and attend to the particular rank and station in life in which providence hath placed him; and what is the duty and decorum of that station; what part is given him to act; what character to maintain; and with what dece••••y and propriety he acts that part, or maintains that character.

For a man to assume a character, or aim at a part that does not belong to him, is affectation. And whence is it that affectation of any kind appears so ridiculous, and exposes men to universal and just contempt, but because it is a certain indication of self ignorance? Whence is it that many seem so willing to be thought something when they are nothing; and seek to excel in those things in which they cannot; whilst they neglect those things in which they may excel? Whence is it that they counter|act the intention of nature and providence; that when these intended them one thing, they would fain be another? Whence, I say, but from an ig|norance of themselves, the rank of life they are in, and of the part and character which properly belong to them?

It is a just observation, and an excellent docu|ment of a moral heathen, that human life is a

"Drama, and mankind the actors, who have their several parts assigned them by the master of the theatre, who stands behind the scenes, and observes in what manner every one acts. Some have a short part allotted them, and some a long one; some a low and some a high one. It is not he that acts the highest or most shining part on the stage, that comes off with the greatest applause; but he that acts his part best, whatever it be. To take care then to act our respective parts in life well, is ours; but to choose what part in life we shall act, is not ours, but GOD's * 1.46."—But a man can never act his part well, if he does not attend to it; does not know what becomes it; much less, if he affect to act another, which nature never designed him. It is always self ignorance that leads a man to act out of character.

Is it a mean and low station of life thou art in? Know then, that providence calls thee to the exer|cise of industry, contentment, submission, patience, hope, and humble dependence on him, and a res|pectful deference to thy superiours. In this way thou mayest shine through shine obscurity; and render thyself amiable in the sight of GOD and man. And not only so, but find more satisfaction; safety and self enjoyment, than they who move in a higher sphere, from whence they are in danger of falling.

But hath providence called thee to act in a more publick character, and for a more extensive benefit to the world?—Thy first care then ought to be, that thy example, as far as its influence reaches, may be an encouragement to the practice of univer|sal virtue. And next to shine in those virtues es|pecially which best adorn thy station; as benevo|lence, charity, wisdom, moderation, firmness, and inviolable integrity; with an undismayed fortitude to press through all opposition in accomplishing those ends which thou hast a prospect and proba|bility of attaining for the apparent good of man|kind.

And as self acquaintance will teach us what part in life we ought to act, so the knowledge of that will shew us whom we ought to imitate and where|in. We are not to take example of conduct from those who have a very different part assigned them from ours; unless in those things that are univer|sally ornamental and exemplary. If we do, we shall but expose our affectation and weakness, and our|selves to contempt for acting out of character. For what is decent in one may be ridiculous in ano|ther. Nor must we blindly follow those who move in the same sphere, and sustain the same character with ourselves; but only in those things that are befitting that character. For it is not the person, but the character, we are to regard; and to imitate him no farther than he keeps to that.

This caution particularly concerns youth, who are apt to imitate their superiours very implicitly, and especially such as shine in the profession, they themselves are intended for; but for want of judg|ment to distinguish what is fit and decent, are apt to imitate their very foibles; which a partiality for their persons makes them deem as excellencies: And thereby they become doubly ridiculous, both by acting out of character themselves, and by a weak and servile imitation of others in the very things in which they do so too. To maintain a character then with decency, we must keep our eye only up|on that which is proper to it.

In fine, as no man can excel in every thing, we must consider what part is allotted us to act, in the station in which providence hath placed us, and to keep to that, be it what it will, and seek to excel in that only.

CHAP. V.

Every Man should be well acquainted with his own Talents and Capacities; and in what Manner they are to be ex|ercised and improved to the greatest Advantage.

IV. A MAN cannot be said to know himself, till he is well acquainted with his proper talents and capacities; knows for what ends he received them, and how they may be most fitly, applied and improved for those ends.

A wise and self understanding man, instead of aiming at talents he hath not, will set about culti|vating those he hath; as the way in which provi|dence points out his proper usefulness.

As, in order to the edification of the church, the spirit of God at first conferred upon the ministers of it a great variety of spiritual gifts, * 1.47 so, for the good of the community, GOD is pleased now to confer upon men a great variety of natural talents; and every one hath his proper gift of GOD; one after this manner, another after that. * 1.48 And every one is to take care not to neglect, but to stir up the gift of GOD which is in him. * 1.49 Because it was given him to be improved. And not only the abuse, but the neg|lect of it must hereafter be accounted for. Witness the doom of that unprofitable servant, who laid up his single pound in a napkin; * 1.50 and of him who went and hid his talent in the earth. * 1.51

It is certainly a sign of great self ignorance, for a man to venture out of his depth, or attempt any thing he wants opportunity or capacity to accom|plish. And therefore a wise man will consider with himself, before he undertakes any thing of consequence, whether he hath abilities to carry him through it, and whether the issue of it is like to be for his credit; lest he sink under the weight he lays upon himself, and incur the just censure of

rashness, presumption and folly, See Luke xiv. 28—32. * 1.52

It is no uncommon thing for some who excel in one thing, to imagine they may excel in every thing. And not content with that share of merit which every one allows them, are still catching at that which doth not belong to them. Why should a good orator wish to be thought a poet? Why must a celebrated divine set up for a politi|cian? Or a statesman affect the philosopher? Or a mechanic•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 scholar? Or a wise man labour to to be thought a wit? This is a weakness that flows from self ignorance, and is incident to the greatest men. Nature seldom forms a universal genius; but deals out her favours in the present state with a parsimonious hand.—Many a man by

this foible hath weakened a well established repu|tation. * 1.53

CHAP. VI.

We must be well acquainted with our Inabilities, and those Things in which we are naturally deficient, as well as those in which we excel.

V. WE must, in order to a thorough self acquaint|ance, not only consider our talents and proper abilities, but have an eye to our frailties and deficien|cies that we may know where our weakness, as well as our strength lies. Otherwise, like Samson, we may run ourselves into infinite temptations and troubles.

Every man hath a weak side. Every wise man knows where it is, and will be sure to keep a doub|ble guard there.

There is some wisdom in concealing a weakness. This cannot be done, till it be first known, nor can it be known without a good degree of self ac|quaintance.

It is strange to observe what pains some men are at to expose themselves; to signalize their own folly; and to set out to the most publick view those things which they ought to be ashamed to think should ever enter into their character. But so it is; some men seem to be ashamed of those things which would be their glory, whilst others glory in their shame.* 1.54

The greatest weakness in man is to publish his weakness and to appear fond to have them known. But vanity will often prompt a man to this; who, unacquainted with the measure of his capacities, attempts things out of his power, and beyond his reach; whereby he makes the world acquainted with two things to his disadvantage, which they were ignorant of before; viz. his deficiency, and his self ignorance in appearing so blind to it.

It is ill judged (though very common) to be less ashamed of a want of temper than understanding. For it is no real dishonour or fault in a man to have but a small ability of mind, provided he have not the vanity to set up for a genius (which would be as ridiculous, as for a man of small strength and stature of body, to set up for a champion) because this is what he cannot help. But a man may in a good measure correct the fault of his natural tem|per, if he be well acquainted with it, and duly watchful over it. And therefore to betray a pre|vailing weakness of temper, or an ungoverned pas|sion, diminishes a man's reputation much more

than to discover a weakness of judgment or un|derstanding.—But what is most dishonour|able of all is, for a man at once to discover a great genius and an ungoverned mind. Because that strength of reason and understanding he is master of, gives him a great disadvantage for the govern|ment of his passions. And therefore his suffering himself notwithstanding to be governed by them, shews, that he hath too much neglected or mis|applied his natural talent; and willingly submitted to the tyranny of those lusts and passions, over which nature hath furnished him with abilities to have secured an easy conquest.

A wise man hath his foibles as well as a fool. But the difference between them is, that the foi|bles of the one are known to himself, and conceal|ed from the world; the foibles of the other are known to the world, and concealed from himself. The wise man sees those frailties in himself, which others cannot; but the fool is blind to those blem|ishes in his character, which are conspicuous to every body else. Whence it appears, that self knowledge is that which makes the main difference between a wise man and a fool, in the moral sense of that word.

CHAP. VII.

Concerning the Knowledge of our Constitutional Sins.

VI. SELF acquaintance shews a man the particu|lar sins he is most exposed and addicted to; and discovers not only what is ridiculous, but what is criminal, in his conduct and temper.

A man's outward actions are generally the plain|est index of his inward dispositions. And by the allowed sins of his life, you may know the reigning vices of his mind. Is he addicted to luxury or de|bauch? Sensuality then appears to be his prevail|ing taste. Is he given to revenge and cruelty? Choler and malice then reign in his heart. Is he confident, bold and enterprising? Ambition ap|pears to be the secret spring. Is he fly and design|ing, given to intrigue and artifice? You may con|clude, there is a natural subtilty of temper that prompts him to this; and this secret disposition is criminal, in proportion to the degree in which these outward actions, which spring from it, transgress the bounds of reason and virtue.

Every man hath something peculiar in the turn or cast of his mind, which distinguishes him as much as the particular constitution of his body. And both these, viz. his particular turn of mind, and constitution of body, not only incline and dispose him to some kind of sins, more than to others, but

render the practice of certain virtues much more easy. * 1.55

Now these sins to which men are commonly most inclined, and the temptations which they have the least power to resist, are, and not improperly, called their constitutional sins; their peculiar frailties; and, in scripture, their * 1.56 own iniquities, and the sins which * 1.57 do most easily beset them * 1.58.

"As in the humours of the body, so in the vic|es of the mind, there is one predominant; which has an ascendant over us, and leads and governs us. It is in the body of sin, what the heart is in the body of our nature; it begins to live first, and dies last. And whilst it lives, it communicates life and spirit to the whole body of sin; and when it dies, the body of sin expires with it. It is the sin to which our constitution leads, our circumstances betray, and custom inslaves us; the sin to which not our virtues only, but vices too, lower their topsail, and submit; the sin, which when we would impose up|on GOD and our consciences, we excuse and dis|guise with all imaginable artifice and sophistry; but, when we are sincere with both, we oppose first, and conquer last. It is, in a word, the sin which reigns and rules in the unregenerate, and too of|ten alarms and disturbs (ah! that I could say no more) the regenerate * 1.59.

Some are more inclined to the sins of the flesh; sensuality, intemperance, uncleanness, sloth, self in|dulgence, and excess in animal gratifications. Oth|ers to the sins of the spirit; pride, malice, covetous|ness, ambition, wrath, revenge, envy, &c. And I am persuaded there are few, but, upon a thorough search into themselves, may find that some one of these sins hath ordinarily a greater power over them than the rest. Others often observe it in them if they themselves do not. And for a man

not to know his predominant iniquity is great self ignorance indeed; and a sign that he has all his life lived far from home; because he is not acquainted with that relating to himself, which every one who is but half an hour in his company, perhaps may be able to inform him of. Hence proceeds that ex|treme weakness which some discover in censuring others, for the very same faults they are guilty of themselves, and perhaps in a much higher degree; on which the Apostle Paul animadverts, Rom. ii. 1. * 1.60.

It must be owned, it is an irksome and disagreea|ble business for a man to turn his own accuser; to search after his own faults, and keep his eye upon that which gives him shame and pain to see. It is like tearing open an old wound. But it is better to do this, than to let it mortify. The wounds of the conscience, like those of the body, cannot be well cured till they are searched to the bottom; and they cannot be searched without pain. A man that is engaged in the study of himself, must be content to know the worst of himself * 1.61.

Do not therefore shut your eyes against your darling sin, or be averse to find it out. Why should you study to conceal or excuse it; and fondly cher|ish that viper in your bosom?—〈◊〉〈◊〉 men deal by their sins, as some ladies do by their per|sons. When their beauty is decayed, they seek to hide it from themselves by false glasses, and from others by paint. So, many seek to hide their sins from themselves by false glosses, and from others by excuses, or false colours * 1.62." But the greatest cheat they put upon themselves. * 1.63 They that cover their sins shall not prosper. It is dangerous self flattery to give soft and smoothing names to sins, in order to disguise their nature. Rather lay your hand upon your heart, and * 1.64 thrust it into your bosom, though it come out (as Moses's did) leprous as snow * 1.65.

And to find out our most beloved sin, let us con|sider what are those worldly objects or amusements which give us the highest delight; this, it is prob|able, will lead us directly to some one of our darl|ing iniquities, if it be a sin of commission: And what are those duties which we read, or hear of from the word of GOD, to which we find our|selves most disinclined? And this, in all likelihood, will help us to detect some of our peculiar sins of omission; which, without such previous examina|tion we may not be sensible of. And thus we may make a proficiency in one considerable branch of self knowledge* 1.66.

CHAP. VIII.

The Knowledge of our most dangerous Temptations, necessa|ry to Self Knowledge.

VII. A MAN that rightly knows himself, is acquaint|ed with his peculiar temptations; and knows when, and in what circumstances, he is in the greatest dan|ger of transgressing.

Reader, if ever you would know yourself, you must examine this point thoroughly. And if you have never yet done it, make a pause when you have read this chapter, and do it now. Consider in what company you are most apt to lose the possession and government of yourself; on what occasions you are apt to be most vain and unguarded, most warm and precipitant. Flee that company, avoid those occasions, if you would keep your conscience clear. What is it that robs you most of your time and your temper? If you have a due regard to the improvement of the one, and the preservation of the other, you will regret such a loss; and shun the occasions of it, as carefully as you would a road beset with robbers.

But especially must you attend to the occasions which most usually betray you into your favourite vices; and consider the spring from whence they arise, and the circumstances which most favour them. They arise doubtless from your natural temper, which strongly disposes and inclines you to them. That temper then, or particular turn of desire, must

be carefully watched over as a most dangerous quar|ter. And the opportunities and circumstances which favour those inclinations must be resolutely avoided, as the strongest temptations. For the way to subdue a criminal inclination is, first, to avoid the known occasions that excite it; and then to curb the first motions of it * 1.67. And thus hav|ing no opportunity of being indulged, it will of itself in time lose its force, and fail of its wonted victory.

The surest way to conquer, is sometimes to de|cline a battle; to weary out the enemy, by keep|ing him at bay. Fabius Maximus did not use this stratagem more successfully against Hannibal than a christian may against his peculiar vice, if he be but watchful of his advantages. It is dangerous to provoke an unequal enemy to the fight, or run into such a situation, where we cannot expect to escape without a disadvantageous encounter.

It is of unspeakable importance, in order to self knowledge and self government, to be acquainted with all the accesses and avenues to sin, and to observe which way it is that we ourselves too often ap|proach it; and to set reason and conscience to guard those passes, those usual inlets to vice, which if a man once enters, he will find a retreat ex|tremely difficult * 1.68.

"Watchfulness, which is always necessary, is chiefly so when the first assaults are made. For then the enemy is most easily repulsed; if we never suffer him to get within us, but upon the very first approach draw up our forces, and fight him without the gate. And this will be more manifest, if we observe by what methods and de|grees temptations grow upon us.—The first thing that presents itself to the mind is a plain single thought; this straight is improved into a strong imagination; that again enforced by a sensible de|light; then follow evil motions; and when these are once stirred there wants nothing but the assent of the will, and then the work is finished. Now the first steps to this are seldom thought worth our care; sometimes not taken notice of; so that the enemy is frequently got close up to us, and even within our trenches, before we observe him." * 1.69

As men have their particular sins, which do most easily beset them; so they have their particular temptations, which do most easily overcome them. That may be a very great temptation to one, which is none at all to another. And if a man does not know what are his greatest temptations, he must have been a great stranger indeed to the business of self employment.

As the subtle enemy of mankind takes care to draw men gradually into sin, so he usually draws

them by degrees into temptation. As he disguises the sin, so he conceals the temptation to it; well knowing, that were they but once sensible of their danger of sin, they would be ready to be on their guard against it. Would we know ourselves tho|roughly then, we must get acquainted not only with our most usual temptations, that we be not unawares drawn into sin, but with the previous steps and preparatory circumstances, which make way for those temptations, that we be not drawn unawares into the occasions of sin; for those things which lead us into temptations are to be consider|ed as temptations, as well as those which immedi|ately lead us into sin. And a man that knows himself will be aware of his remote temptations, as well as the more immediate ones; e. g. If he find the company of a passionate man is a temptation (as Solomon tells us it is, Prov. xxii. 24, 25.) he will not only avoid it, but those occasions that may lead him into it. And the petition in the Lord's Prayer makes it as much a man's duty to be upon his guard against temptation, as under it. Nor can a man pray from his heart that GOD would not lead him into temptation, if he take no care himself to avoid it.

CHAP. IX.

Self Knowledge discovers the secret Prejudices of the Heart.

VIII. ANOTHER important branch of self knowl|edge is, for a man to be acquainted with his own prejudices; or those secret prepossessions of his heart, which, though so deep and latent, that he may not be sensible of them, are often so strong and prevalent as to give a mighty, but imperceptible bias to the mind.

There is no one particular that I know of where|in self knowledge more eminently consists than it does in this. It being therefore so essential a branch of my subject, and a point to which men seldom pay an attention equal to its importance, I beg leave to treat it with a little more precision.

These prejudices of the human mind may be con|sidered with regard to opinions, persons, and things.

1. With regard to opinions.

It is a common observation, but well expressed by a late celebrated writer, "that we set out in life with such poor beginnings of knowledge, and grow up under such remains of superstition and ignorance, such influences of company and fash|ion, such insinuations of pleasure, &c. that it is no wonder, if men get habits of thinking only in one way; that these habits in time grow rigid and confirmed; and so their minds come to be overcast with thick prejudices, scarce penetrable by any ray of truth, or light of reason * 1.70."

There is no man but is more attached to one particular set or scheme of opinions in philosophy, politicks, and religion, than he is to another; I mean if he hath employed his thoughts at all about them. The question we should examine then is, how came we by these attachments? Whence are we so fond of these particular notions? Did we come fairly by them? Or were they imposed upon us, and dictated to our easy belief, before we were able to judge of them? This is most likely. For the impressions we early receive generally grow up with us, and are those we least care to part with. However, which way soever we came by them, they must be reexamined, and brought to the touchstone of sound sense, solid reason, and plain scripture. If they will not bear this after hard rubbing, they must be dismissed, as no genuine principles of truth, but as counterfeits imposed up|on us under the guise and semblance of it.

And as reason and scripture must discover our prejudices to us, so they only can help us to get rid of them. By these are we to rectify, and to these are we to conform, all our opinions and senti|ments in religion, as our own standard, exclusive of all other rules, light or authority, whatsoever.

And care must further be taken that we do not make scripture and reason bend and buckle to our notions; which will rather confirm our prejudices than cure them. For whatever cannot evidently be proved, without the help of overstrained meta|phors, and the arts of sophistry, is much to be sus|pected;

which used to make archbishop Tillotson say—Non amo argutias in Thelogiâ I do not love subtilties in divinity. But,

2. The human mind is very apt to be prejudiced either for or against certain persons, as well as cer|tain sentiments. And as prejudice will lead a man to talk very unreasonably with regard to the latter, so it will lead him to act as unreasonably with re|gard to the former.

What is the reason, for instance, that we can|not help having a more hearty affection for some persons than others? Is it from a similarity of taste and temper? Or something in their address, that slatters our vanity? Or something in their humour, that hits our fancy? Or something in their con|versation, that improves our understanding? Or a certain sweetness of disposition, and agreeable|ness of manner, that is naturally engaging? Or from benefits received or expected from them? Or from some eminent and distinguished excellency in them? Or from none of these; but something else, we cannot tell what?—Such sort of inquir|ies will shew us whether our esteem and affections be rightly placed; or flow from mere instinct, blind prejudice or something worse.

And so on the other hand, with regard to our disaffection towards any one, or the disgust we have taken against him; if we would know our|selves, we must examine into the bottom of this; and see not only what is the pretended, but true cause of it: Whether it be justifiable, and our re|sentments

sentments duly proportioned to it.—Is his man|ner in thinking, talking, and acting, quite differ|ent from mine, and therefore what I cannot approve? Or have I received some real af|front, or injury from him? Be it so, my continu|ed resentment against him, on either of these ac|counts, may be owing notwithstanding, more to some unreasonable prejudice in me, than to any real fault in him.

For as to the former, his way of thinking, talking and acting, may possibly be juster than my own; which the mere force of custom and habit only makes me prefer to his. However, be it ever so wrong, he may not have had the same advantage of improving his understanding, address, and con|duct, as I have had; and therefore his defects herein are more excusable. And he may have many other kind of excellencies which I have not.—"But he is not only ignorant and unmanner|ed, but unsufferably vain, conceited and overbear|ing at the same time." Why, that perhaps he cannot help. It is the fault of his nature. He is the object of pity rather than resentment. And had I such a disposition by nature, I should, per|haps, with all my self improvement, find it a dif|ficult thing to manage. And therefore, though I can never choose such a one for an agreeable com|panion, yet I ought not to harbour a dislike to him, but love, and pity, and pray for him, as a person under a great misfortune; and be thankful that I am not under the same.—"But he is quite blind

to this fault of his temper, and does not appear to be in the least sensible of it."—Why, that is a great misfortune still; and he ought to be the more pitied. And as to the other pretended ground of disgust, "he hath often offended and injured me." Let me consider, 1. Whether any offence was really intended; whether I do not impute that to ill na|ture, which was only owing to ill manners; or that to design, which proceeded only from igno|rance. Do I not take offence before it is given? If so, the fault is mine, and not his. And the re|sentment I have conceived against him, I ought to turn upon myself * 1.71.—Again, 2. Did I not provoke him tò it, when I knew his temper? The fault is still my own. I did, or might know the pride, pas|sion or perverseness of his nature; why then did I exasperate him? A man that would needlessly rouse a lion, must not expect always to come off so fa|vourably as the hero of La Mancha.—But, 3. Suppose I were not the aggressor; yet, how came I into his company? Who led me into the tempta|tion? He hath acted according to his nature in what he hath done; but I have not acted accord|ing to my reason, in laying myself so open to him. I knew him; why did I not shun him, as I would any other dangerous animal that does mischief by instinct? If I must needs put my finger into a

wasp's nest, why should I blame them for sting|ing me?—Or, 4. If I could not avoid his com|pany, why did I not arm myself? Why did I ven|ture defenceless into so much danger? Or, 5. Sup|pose he hath done me a real and undeserved in|jury, without my fault or provocation; yet does not my discontent aggravate it? Does it not appear great|er to me, than it does to any body else? Or than it will to me, after the present ferment is over?—And lastly, after all, must I never forgive? How shall I be able to repeat the Lord's Prayer, or read our saviour's comment upon it, Mat. vi. 14, 15. with an unforgiving temper? Do I not hope to be forgiven ten thousand talents; and cannot I for|give my fellow servant thirty pence? When I know not but he hath repented, and GOD hath forgiven him, whose forgiveness I want infinitely more than my greatest enemy does mine. * 1.72

Such considerations are of great use to soften our prejudices against persons; and at once to discover the true spring, and prevent the bad ef|fects of them. And happy would it be for a chris|tian, could he but call to mind and apply to his relief, half the good things which that excellent heathen emperour and philosopher Marcus Anton|inus could say upon this subject. Some of which I have, for the benefit of the English reader, ex|tracted, and thrown into the margin. * 1.73

3. The mind is apt to be prejudiced against or in favour of certain things and actions, as well as certain sentiments and persons.

Do you not sometimes find dull disagreeable ideas annexed to certain places, seasons, or employ|ments, which give you a secret aversion to them? These arise from the remembrance of some unpleas|ing incidents you have heretofore met with, and which you apprehend may again 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you on such occasions. But they are nothing more than the mere misrepresentations of fancy; and ought to be repelled, because they will be apt to lead you to neglect the duties of your character.

If therefore you find in yourself a secret disin|clination to any particular action or duty, and the mind begins to cast about for excuses and reasons to justify the neglect of it, consider the maker well: Go to the bottom of that reluctance; and search out what it is that gives the mind this aver|sion to it. Whether it be the thing, or action itself, or some discouraging circumstances that may at|tend it; or some disagreeable consequences that may possibly flow from it; or your supposed un|fitness

for it at present. Why, all these things may be only imaginary. And to neglect a plain and positive duty upon such considerations, shows that you are governed by appearances more than realities, by fancy more than reason, and by in|clination more than conscience.

But let fancy muster up all the discouraging cir|cumstances, and set them in the most formidable light, to bar your way to a supposed duty; for in|stance, "It is very difficult, I want capacity, at least am so indisposed to it at present, that I shall make nothing of 〈◊〉〈◊〉; and then it will be attended with danger to my person, reputation or peace; and the opposition I am like to meet with is great, &c." But after all, in the call of providence clear? Is the thing a plain duty? Such a reason, conscience, and scripture; your office, character, or personal engagements call upon you to dis|charge? If so, all the aforesaid objections are vain and delusive; and you have nothing to do, but to summon your courage, and in dependence on di|vine help, to set about the business immediately and in good earnest, and in the best and wisest manner you can; and you may depend upon it, you will find the greatest difficulty to lie only in the first attempt; these frightful appearances to be

all visionary, the mere figments of fancy turning lambs into lions, and mole hills into mountains; and that nothing but sloth, folly, and self indulg|ence, thus set your imagination on work to deter you from a plain duty. Your heart would deceive you, but you have found out the cheat, and do not be imposed upon. * 1.74

Again, suppose the thing done; consider how it will look then. Take a view of it as past; and whatever pains it may cost you, think whether it will not be abundantly recompensed by the inward peace and pleasure, which arise from a conscious|ness of having acted right. It certainly will. And the difficulties you now dread will enhance your future satisfaction * 1.75. But think again how you will bear the reflections of your own mind if you wilfully neglect a plain and necessary duty; wheth|er this will not occasion you much more trouble than all the pains you might be at in performing it. And a wise man will always determine him|self by the end; or by such a retrospective view of things, considered as past.

Again, on the other hand, if you find a strong propension to any particular action, examine that with the like impartiality. Perhaps it is what neither your reason nor conscience can fully approve. And yet every motive to it is strongly urged, and every ob|jection

to it slighted. Sense and appetite grow im|portunate and clamorous, and want to lead, while reason remonstrates in vain. But turn not aside from that faithful and friendly monitor, whilst with a low, still voice, she addresses you in this soft but earnest language.—"Hear me, I beseech you, but this one word more. The action is indeed out of character; what I shall never approve. The pleasure of it is a great deal over rated; you will cer|tainly be disappointed. It is a false appearance that now deceives you. And what will you think of yourself when it is past, and you come to reflect seriously on the matter? Believe it, you will then wish you had taken me for your counsellor, instead of those enemies of mine, your lusts and passions, which have so often misled you, though you know I never did."

Such short recollections as these, and a little lei|sure to take a view of the nature and consequences of things or actions, before we reject or approve them, will prevent much false judgment and bad conduct; and by degrees wear off the prejudices which fancy has fixed in the mind, either for, or against any particular action; teach us to distin|guish between things and their appearances; strip them of those false colours that so often deceive us; correct the sallies of the imagination, and leave the reins in the hand of reason.

Before I dismiss this head, I must observe, that some of our strongest prejudices arise from an ex|cessive self esteem, or too great a complacency in our

own good sense and understanding. Philautus in every thing shews himself well satisfied with his own wisdom; which makes him very impatient of contradiction, and gives him a distaste to all who shall presume to oppose their judgment to his, in any thing. He had rather persevere in a mistake than retract it, lest his judgment should suffer; not considering that his ingenuity and good sense suffer much more by such obstinacy. The fulness of his self sufficiency makes him blind to those im|perfections which every one can see in him but himself. So that however wise, sincere and friend|ly, however gentle and seasonable your remon|strance may be, he takes it immediately to proceed from ill nature or ignorance in you, but from no fault in him.

Seneca, I remember, tells us a remarkable story, which very well illustrates this matter.—Writing to his friend Lucilius, "My wife (says he) keeps Har|pastes in her house still, who, you know, is a sort of family food, and no small incumbrance upon us. For my part I am far from taking any pleasure in such prodigies. If I have a mind to divert myself with a fool, I have not far to go for one; I can laugh at myself. This silly girl, all on a sudden, lost her eye sight: And (which perhaps may seem incredible, but it is very true) she does not know she is blind; but is every now and then desiring her governess to lead her abroad, saying the house is dark.—Now what we laugh at in this poor

creature, you may observe happens to us all. No man knows that he is covetous or insatiable. Yet with this difference; the blind seek somebody to lead them, but we are content to wander without a guide.—But why do we thus deceive ourselves? The disease is not without us, but fixed deep with|in. And therefore is the cure so difficult, because we do not know that we are sick * 1.76."

CHAP. X.

The Necessity and Means of knowing our Natural Temper.

IX. ANOTHER very important branch of self knowledge is, the knowledge of those governing passions or dispositions of the mind, which generally form what we call a man's natural temper.

The difference of natural tempers seems to be chief|ly owing to the different degrees of influence, the several passions have upon the mind. e. g. If the passions are eager and soon raised, we say the man is of a warm temper; if more sluggish and slowly raised, he is of a cool temper; according as anger malice or ambition prevail, he is of a fierce, churlish, or haughty temper; the influence of the softer pas|sions of love, pity and benevolence, forms a sweet, sympathising and courteous temper; and when all the passions are duly poised, and the milder and pleas|ing ones prevail, they make what is commonly cal|led a quite good natured man.

So that it is the prevalence or predominance of any particular passion which gives the turn or tincture to a man's temper, by which he is distin|guished, and for which he is loved or esteemed, or shunned and despised by others.

Now what this is, those we converse with are soon sensible of. They presently see the fault of our temper, and order their behaviour accordingly. If they are wise and well mannered, they will avoid striking the string which they know will jar and raise a discord within us. If they are our enemies they will do it on purpose to set us on tormenting ourselves. And our friends we must suffer some|times with a gentle hand to touch it, either by way of pleasant raillery or faithful advice.

But a man must be greatly unacquainted with himself, if he is ignorant of his predominant passion, or distinguishing temper, when every one else ob|serves it. And yet how common is this piece of self ignorance? The two apostles, James and John, discovered it in that very action wherein they meant to express nothing but a hearty zeal for their mas|ter's honour; which made him tell them, that they knew not what manner of spirit they were of, Luke ix. 55. i. e. that, instead of a principle of love and gen|uine zeal for him, they were at that time governed by a spirit of pride, revenge and cruelty: and yet knew it not. And that the apostle John should be liable to this censure, whose temper seemed to be all love and sweetness, is a memorable instance how

difficult a thing it is for a man at all times to know his own spirit; and that that passion, which seems to have the least power over his mind, may on some occasions insensibly gain a criminal ascendant there.

The necessity of a perfect knowledge of our reigning passions appears further from hence; that they not only give a tincture to the temper, but to the understanding also; and throw a strong bias on the judgment. They have much the same effect upon the eye of the mind, as some distempers have upon that of the body. If they do not put it out, they weaken it; or throw false colours before it, and make it form a wrong judgment of things. And, in short, are the source of those foremention|ed prejudices, which so often abuse the human un|derstanding.

Whatever the different passions themselves that reign in the mind may be owing to, whether to the different texture of the bodily organs, or the differ|ent quantity or motion of the animal spirits, or to the native turn and cast of the soul itself; yet cer|tain it is, that men's different ways of thinking are much according to the predominance of their dif|ferent passions; and especially with regard to reli|gion. Thus, e. g. we see melancholy people are apt to throw too much gloom upon their religion, and represent it in a very uninviting and unlovely view, as all austerity and mortification; whilst they who are governed by the more gay and cheerful passions, are apt to run into the other extreme, and

too much to mingle the pleasures of sense with those of religion; and are as much too lax, as the other are too severe. And thus, by the prejudice or bias of their respective passions, or the force of their natural temper they are led into different mistakes.

"So that would a man know himself, he must study his natural temper; his constitutional incli|nations, and favourite passions; for by these a man's judgment is easily perverted, and a wrong bias hung upon his mind: These are the inlets of pre|judice; the unguarded avenues of the mind, by which a thousand errors and secret faults find admis|sion, without being observed or taken notice of * 1.77."

And that we may more easily come at the knowl|edge of our predominant affections, let us consider what outward events do most impress and move us; and in what manner. What is it that usually creates the greatest pain or pleasure in the mind?—And as for pain, a stoick indeed may tell us, "that we must keep things at a distance; let nothing that is outward come within us; let externals be exter|nals still." But the human make will scarce bear the rigo•• of that philosophy. Outward things, af|ter all, will impress and affect us. And there is no harm in this, provided they do not get the possession of us, overset our reason, or lead us to act unbecom|ing a man or a christian. And one advantage we may reap from hence is, the manner or degree in

which outward things impress us, may lead us into a better acquaintance with ourselves, discover to us our weak side, and the passions which most pre|dominate in us.

Our pleasures will likewise discover our reigning passions, and the true temper and disposition of the soul. If it be captivated by the pleasures of sin, it is a sign its prevailing taste is very vicious and cor|rupt; if with the pleasures of sense, very low and sordid; if imaginary pleasures, and the painted scenes of fancy and romance do most entertain it, the soul hath then a trifling turn; if the pleasures of science or intellectual improvements are these it is most fond of, it has then a noble and refined taste; but if its chief satisfactions derive from reli|gion and divine contemplation, it has then its true and proper taste; its temper is as it should be, pure, divine, and heavenly; provided these satisfactions spring from a true religious principle, free from that superstition, bigotry and enthusiasm, under which it is often disguised.

And thus, by carefully observing what it is that gives the mind the greatest pain and torment, or the greatest pleasure and entertainment, we come at the knowledge of its reigning passions, and pre|vailing temper and disposition.

"Include thyself then, O my soul, within the compass of thine own heart; if it be not large, it is deep, and thou wilt there find exercise enough. Thou wilt never be able to sound it; it cannot be

known, but by Him, who tries the thoughts and reins. But dive into this subject as deep as thou canst. Examine thyself; and this knowledge of that which passes within thee, will be of more use to thee, than the knowledge of all that passes in the world. Concern not thyself with the wars and quar|rels of publick or private persons. Take cogniz|ance of those contests which are between thy flesh and thy spirit; betwixt the law of thy members, and that of thy understanding. Appease those dif|ferences. Teach thy flesh to be in subjection. Re|place reason on its throne; and give it piety for its counsellor. Tame thy passions, and bring them un|der bondage. Put thy little state in good order; govern wisely and holily those numerous people which are contained in so little a kingdom; that is to say, that multitude of affections, thoughts, opi|nions and passions which are in thine heart * 1.78."

CHAP. XI.

Concerning the secret Springs of our Actions.

X. ANOTHER considerable branch of self acquaint|ance is, to know the true motives and secret springs of our actions.

This will sometimes cost us much pains to acquire. But for want of it, we should be in danger of pass|ing a false judgment upon our actions, and of enter|taining a wrong opinion of our conduct.

It is not only very possible, but very common, for men to be ignorant of the chief inducements of their behaviour; and to imagine they act from one motive, whilst they are apparently governed by ano|ther. If we examine our views, and look into our hearts narrowly, we shall find that they more frequently deceive us in this respect than we are aware of; by persuading us that we are governed by much better motives than we really are. The honour of GOD, and the interest of religion, may be the open and avowed motives; whilst secular in|terest and secret vanity may be the hidden and true one. While we think we are serving GOD, we may be only sacrificing to Mammon. We may like Jehu, boast our real for the Lord, when we are only animated by the heat of our natural pas|sions * 1.79; may cover a censorious spirit under a cloak of piety; and giving admonition to others, may be only giving vent to our spleen.

Many come to the place of publick worship, out of custom or curiosity, who would be thought to come thither only out of conscience. And whilst their external and professed view is to serve GOD, and gain good to their souls, their secret and inward motive is only to shew themselves to advantage, or to avoid singularity, and prevent others making ob|servations on their absence. Munificence and almsgiving may often proceed from a principle of pride and party spirit, and seeming acts of friend|ship from a mercenary motive.

By thus disguising our motives we may impose upon men, but at the same time we are imposing upon ourselves; and whilst we are deceiving oth|ers, our own hearts deceive us. And of all impos|tures self deception is the most dangerous, because least suspected.

Now, unless we examine this point narrowly, we shall never come to the bottom of it; and unless we come at the true spring and real motive of our ac|tions, we shall never be able to form a right judg|ment of them; and they may appear very different in our own eye, and in the eye of the world, from what they do in the eye of GOD. For the Lord seeth not as man seeth: For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.* 1.80 And hence it is, that that which is highly esteemed among men, is oftentimes abomination in the sight of GOD. * 1.81 Every way of man is right in his own eyes; but the LORD pondereth the hearts. * 1.82

CHAP. XII.

Every one that knows himself is in a particular Manner sensible how far he is governed by a Thirst for Applause.

XI. ANOTHER thing necessary to unfold a man's heart to himself is, to consider what is his ap|petite for same; and by what means he seeks to gratify.

This passion in particular having always so main a stroke, and often times so unsuspected an influence on the most important parts of our conduct, a perfect ac|quaintance with it is a very material branch of self knowledge, and therefore requires a distinct con|sideration.

Emulation, like the other passions of the human mind, shows itself much more plainly, and works much more strongly in some than it does in others. It is in itself innocent; and was planted in our natures for very wise ends, and, if kept under prop|er regulations, is capable of serving very excellent purposes; otherwise it degenerates into a mean and criminal ambition.

When a man finds something within him that pushes him on to excel in worthy deeds, or in ac|tions truly good and virtuous, and pursues that de|sign with a steady unaffected ardour, without re|serve or falsehood, it is a true sign of a noble spi|rit. For that love of praise can never be criminal that excites and enables a, man to do a great deal more good than he could do without it. And per|haps there never was a fine genius or a noble spi|rit, that rose above the common level, and distin|guished itself by high attainments in what is truly excellent, but was secretly, and perhaps insensibly prompted, by the impulse of this passion.

But, on the contrary, if a man's views centre on|ly in the applause of others, whether it he deserv|ed or not; if he pants after popularity and fame,

not regarding how he comes by it; if his passion for praise urge him to stretch himself beyond the line of his capacity, and to attempt things to which he is unequal; to condescend to mean arts and low dissi|mulation for the sake of a name; and in a sinister, indirect way, sue hard for a little incense, not car|ing from whom he receives it; his ambition then becomes vanity. And if it excite a man to wick|ed attempts, make him willing to sacrifice the es|teem of all wise and good men to the acclamations of a mob; to overleap the bounds of decency and truth, and break through the obligations of honour and virtue, it is then not only vanity, but vice: And vice the most destructive to the peace and happiness of human society, and which of all oth|ers hath made the greatest havock and devastation among men.

What an instance have we here of the wide dif|ference between common opinion and truth? That a vice so big with mischief and misery should be mistaken for a virtue! And that they who have been most infamous for it should be crowned with laurels, even by those who have been ruined by it; and have those laurels perpetuated by the common consent of men through after ages! Seneca's judg|ment of Alexander is certainly more agreeable to truth than the common opinion; who called him "a publick cut throat rather than a hero; and who, in seeking only to be a terrour to mankind, arose to

no greater an excellence, than what belonged to the most hurtful and hateful animals on earth * 1.83."

Certain it is, that these false heroes, who seek their glory from the destruction of their own spe|cies, are of all men most ignorant of themselves; and by this wicked ambition entail infamy and curses upon their name, instead of that immortal glory they pursued. According to the prophet's words.—Wo to him also coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest on high; that he may be delivered from the power of evil. Thou hast consulted shame

to thine house, by cutting off many people; and hast sinned against thy soul. * 1.84

Now no man can truly know himself till he be acquainted with this, which is so often the secret and unperceived spring of his actions, and ob|serves how far it governs him in his conversation and conduct; virtue and real excellence will raise to view, though they be not mounted on the wings of ambition, which, by soaring too high, procures but a more fatal fall.

And to correct the irregularity and extravagance of this passion, let us but reflect how airy and un|substantial a pleasure the highest gratifications of it afford; how many cruel mortifications he ex|poses us to, by awakening the envy of others; to what meanness it often makes us submit; how frequently it loseth its end by pursuing it with too much ardour; and how much more solid pleas|ure the approbation of conscience will yield, than the acclamations of ignorant and mistaken men, who, judging by externals only, cannot know our true character; and whose commendations a wise man would rather despise than court. "Examine but the size of people's sense, and the condition

of their understandings, and you will never be fond of popularity, nor afraid of censure; nor so|licitous what judgment they may form of you, who know not how to judge rightly of themselves." * 1.85

CHAP. XIII.

What Kind of Knowledge we are already furnished with, and what Degree of Esteem we set upon it.

XII. A MAN can never rightly know himself, un|less he examines into his knowledge of other things.

We must consider then the knowledge we have; and whether we do not set too high a price upon it, and too great a value upon ourselves on the ac|count of it; of what real use it is to us, and what effect it has upon us; whether it does not make us too stiff, unsociable, and assuming; testy and supercilious, and ready to despise others for their supposed ignorance. If so, our knowledge, be it what it will, does us more harm than good. We were better without it; ignorance itself would not render us so ridiculous. Such a temper with all our knowledge, shows that we know not ourselves.

"A man is certainly proud of that knowledge he despises others for the want of."

How common is it for some men to be fond of appearing to know more than they do, and of seeming to be thought men of knowledge? To which end they exhaust their fund almost in all companies, to outshine the rest. So that in two or three conversations they are drawn dry, and you see to the bottom of them much sooner than you could at first imagine. And even that torrent of learning, which they pour out upon you at first so unmercifully, rather confounds than satisfies you; their visible aim is not to inform your judg|ment, but display their own; you have many things to query and except against, but their loquacity gives you no room; and their good sense, set off to so much advantage, strikes a modest man dumb: If you insist upon your right to examine, they retreat either in confusion or equivocation; and, like the scuttle fish, throw a large quantity of ink be|hind them, that you may not see where to pursue. Whence this foible flows is obvious enough. Self knowledge would soon correct it.

But, as some ignorantly affect to be more knowing, so others vainly affect to be more ignorant than than they are; who, to shew they have greater in|sight and penetration than other men, insist upon the absolute uncertainty of science; will dispute even first principles; grant nothing as certain, and so run into downright Pyrrhonism; the too com|mon effect of abstracted debates excessively refined. * 1.86

Every one is apt to set the greatest value upon that kind of knowledge, in which he imagines he himself most excels; and to undervalue all other in comparison of it. There wants some certain rule then, by which some men's knowledge is to be tried, and the value of it estimated. And let it be this.—"That is the best and most valuable kind of knowledge, that is most subservient to the best ends; i. e. which tends to make a man wiser and better, or more agreeable, and useful both to himself and others."—For knowledge is but a means that relates to some end. And as all means are to be judged of by the excellency of the end, and their expediency to produce it; so that must be the best knowledge that hath the directest ten|dency to promote the best ends; viz. a man's own true happiness, and that of others; in which the glory of GOD, the ultimate end, is ever necessarily comprised.

Now, if we were to judge of the several kinds of science by this rule, we should find, 1. Some of them to be very hurtful and pernicious; as tend|ing to pervert the true end of knowledge; to ruin a man's own happiness, and make him more inju|rious to society. Such is the knowledge of vice, the various temptations to it, and the secret ways

of practising it; especially the arts of dissimula|tion, fraud, and dishonesty. 2. Others will be found unprofitable and useless. As those parts of knowledge, which though they may take up much time and pains to acquire, yet answer no valuable purpose; and serve only for amusement, and the entertainment of the imagination. For instance, an acquaintance with plays, novels, games, and modes, in which a man may be very critical and expert, and yet not a wit the wiser or more useful man. 3. Other kinds of knowledge are good only relative|ly, or conditionally, and may be more useful to one than to another; viz. a skill in a man's particular occupation or calling, on which his credit, liveli|hood, or usefulness in the world depends. And as this kind of knowledge is valuable in proportion to its end, so it ought to be cultivated with a diligence and esteem answerable to that. Lastly, other kinds of knowledge are good absolutely and universally; viz. the knowledge of GOD and our|selves. The nature of our final happiness and the way to it. This is equally necessary to all. And how thankful should we be, that we, who live un|der the light of the gospel, and enjoy that light in its perfection and purity, have so many happy means and opportunities of attaining this most use|ful and necessary kind of knowledge!

A man can never understand himself then, till he makes a right estimate of his knowledge; till he examines what kind of knowledge he values him|self most upon, and most diligently cultivates;

how high a value he sets upon it; what good it does him; what effect it hath upon him; what he is the better for it; what end it answers now; or what it is like to answer hereafter.

There is nothing in which a man's self ignorance discovers itself more, than in the esteem he hath for his understanding, or for himself on the ac|count of it. It is a trite and true observation, that empty things make the most sound. Men of the least knowledge are most apt to make a show of it, and to value themselves upon it; which is very visible in forward confident youth, raw conceited academicks, and those who, uneducated in their childhood, betake themselves in later life to read|ing, without taste or judgment, only as an accom|plishment, and to make a show of scholarship; who have just learning enough to spoil company, and render themselves ridiculous, but not enough to make either themselves or others at all the wiser.

But beside the formentioned kinds of knowledge, there is another which is commonly called false knowledge; which, though it often imposes upon men under the show and semblance of true knowl|edge, is really worse than ignorance. Some men have learned a great many things, and have taken a great deal of pains to learn them, and stand very high in their own opinion on account of them, which yet they must unlearn before they are truly wise. They have been at a vast expense of time, and pains, and patience, to heap together, and to confirm themselves in a set of wrong notions, which

they lay up in their minds as a fund of valuable knowledge; which if they try by the foremention|ed rules, viz. "the tendency they have to make them wiser and better, or more useful and beneficial to others," will be found to be worth just nothing at all.

Beware of this false knowledge. For as there is nothing of which men are more obstinately tena|cious, so there is nothing that renders them more vain, or more averse to self knowledge. Of all things, men are most fond of their wrong notions.

The Apostle Paul often speaks of these men, and their self sufficiency, in very poignant terms; who, though they seem wise, yet (says he) must become fools be|fore they are wise. * 1.87 Though they think they know a great deal, know nothing yet as they ought to know. * 1.88 But deceive themselves, by thinking themselves something when they are nothing. * 1.89 And whilst they desire to be teachers of others, understand not what they say, nor where of they affirm. * 1.90 And want themselves to be taught what are the first rudiments and principles of wisdom. * 1.91

CHAP. XIV.

Concerning the Knowledge, Guard, and Government of our Thoughts.

XIII. ANOTHER part of self knowledge consists in a due acquaintance with our own thoughts, and the inward workings of the imagination.

The right government of the thoughts requires no small art, vigilance, and resolution. But it is a matter of such vast importance to the peace and improvement of the mind, that it is worth while to be at some pains about it. A man that hath so numerous and turbulent a family to govern as his own thoughts, which are too apt to be at the com|mand of his passions and appetites, ought not to be long from home. If he be, they will soon grow mutinous and disorderly under the conduct of those two headstrong guides, and raise great clamours and disturbances, and sometimes on the slightest occasions. And a more dreadful scene of misery can hardly be imagined, than that which is occa|sioned by such a tumult and uproar whithin, when a raging conscience or inflamed passions are let loose without check or control. A city in flames, or the mutiny of a drunken crew aboard, who have murdered the Captain, and are butchering one an|other, are but faint emblems of it. The torment of the mind, under such an insurrection and rav|age of the passions, is not easy to be conceived. The most revengeful man cannot wish his enemy a greater.

Of what vast importance then is it for a man to watch over his thoughts, in order to a right gov|ernment of them! To consider what kind of thoughts find the easiest admission, in what man|ner they insinuate themselves, and upon what oc|casions!

It was an excellent rule which a wise heathen prescribed to himself, in his private meditations; manage (saith he) all your actions and thoughts in such a manner, as if you were just going out of the world.* 1.92 Again, (saith he) a man is seldom, if ever, unhappy for not knowing the thoughts of others; but he that does not attend to the motions of his own, is certainly miserable.* 1.93

It may be worth our while then to discuss this matter a little more precisely; and consider, 1. What kind of thoughts are to be excluded or rejected. And 2. What ought to be indulged and entertained.

I. Some thoughts ought to be immediately banished as soon as they have found entrance.—And if we are often troubled with them, the safest way will be to keep a good guard on the avenues of the mind by which they enter, and avoid those occasions which commonly excite them. For sometimes it is much easier to prevent a bad thought entering the mind, than to get rid of it when it is entered.—More par|ticularly,

1. Watch against all fretful and discontented thoughts which do but chase and corrode the mind

to no purpose. To harbour these is to do yourself more injury than it is in the power of your greatest enemy to do you. It is equally a christian's inter|est and duty to learn, in whatever state he is, there with to be content.* 1.94

2. Harbour not too anxious and apprehensive thoughts. By giving way to tormenting fears, suspicions of some approaching danger or troublesome event, we not only anticipate, but double the evil we fear; and undergo much more from the apprehension of it before it comes, than from the whole weight of it when present. This is a great, but common weakness; which a man should endeavour to arm himself against by such kind of reflections as these;—"Are not all these events under the certain di|rection of a wise providence? If they befal me, they are then that share of suffering which GOD hath appointed me; and which he expects I should bear as a christian. How often hath my timorous heart magnified former trials? which I found to be less in reality than they appeared upon their ap|proach. And perhaps the formidable aspect they put on, is only a stratagem of the great enemy of my best interest, designed on purpose to divert me from some point of duty, or to draw me into some sin to avoid them. However, why should I torment my|self to no purpose? The pain and affliction the dreaded evil will give me when it comes, is of GOD's sending; the pain I feel in the apprehension of it before it comes, is of my own procuring. Whereby I often make my sufferings more than

double; for this overplus of them, which I bring up|on myself, is often greater than that measure of them which the hand of providence immediately brings upon me."

3. Dismiss as soon as may be, all angry and wrath|ful thoughts. These will but canker and corrode the mind, and dispose it to the worst temper in the world, viz. that of fixed malice and revenge. Anger may steal into the heart of a wise man, but it rests only in the bosom of fools.* 1.95 Make all the most can|did allowances for the offender. Consider his nat|ural temper. Turn your anger into pity. Repeat 1 Cor. xiii. Think of the patience and meekness of Christ, and the petition in the Lord's prayer; and how much you stand in need of forgiveness your|self, both from GOD and man; how fruitless, how foolish is indulged resentment; how tormenting to yourself? You have too much good nature willing|ly to give others so much torment; and why should you give it yourself? You are commanded to love your neighbour as yourself, but not forbidden to love yourself as much. And why should you do your|self that injury, which your enemy would be glad to do you? * 1.96

But, above all, be sure to set a guard on the tongue whilst the fretful mood is upon you. The least spark may break out into a conflagration, when cherished by a resentive heart, and fanned by the wind of an angry breath. Aggravating expressions, at such a time, are like oil thrown upon flames, which always make them rage the more * 1.97. Es|pecially,

4. Banish all malignant and revengeful thoughts. A spirit of revenge is the very spirit of the devil, than which nothing makes a man more like him; and nothing can be more opposite to the temper which christianity was designed to promote. If your re|venge be not satisfied, it will give you torment now; if it be, it will give you greater hereafter. None is a greater self tormentor than a malicious and re|vengeful man, who turns the poison of his own temper in upon himself * 1.98.

Drive from the mind all silly, trifling, and unreason|able thoughts; which sometimes get into it we know not how, and seize and possess it before we are aware; and hold it in empty, idle amusements, that yield neither pleasure nor profit, and turn to no manner of account in the world; only consume time, and prevent a better employment of the mind.

And indeed there is little difference whether we spend the time in sleep, or in these waking dreams. Nay, if the thoughts which thus insensibly steal up|on you be not altogether absurd and whimsical, yet if they be impertinent and unseasonable, they ought to be dismissed, because they keep out better com|pany.

6. Cast out all wild and extravagant thoughts, all vain and fantastical imaginations. Suffer not your thoughts to roam upon things that never were, and perhaps never will be; to give you a visionary pleasure in the prospect of what you have not the least reason to hope, or a needless pain in the ap|prehension of what you have not the least reason to fear. The truth is, next to a clear conscience and a sound judgment, there is not a greater bless|ing than a regular and well governed imagination; to be able to view things as they are, in their true light and proper colours; and to distinguish the false images that are painted on the fancy, from the representations of truth and reason. For how com|mon a thing is it for men, before they are aware, to confound reason and fancy, truth and imagina|tion together? To take the flashes of the animal spirits for the light of evidence? and think they believe things to be true or false, when they only fancy them to be so? and fancy them to be so, be|cause they would have them so? Not considering that mere fancy is only the ignis satuus of the mind; which often appears brightest, when the mind is most covered with darkness; and will be sure to

lead them astray, who follow it as their guide. Near akin to these are,

7. Romantick and chimerical thoughts. By which I mean that kind of wildfire, which the briskness of the animal spirits sometimes suddenly flashes on the mind, and excites images that are so extremely ridiculous and absurd, that one can scarce forbear wondering how they could get admittance. These random flights of the fancy are soon gone; and herein differ from that castle building of the imagi|nation before mentioned, which is a more settled amusement. But these are too incoherent and senseless to be of long continuance; and are the maddest fallies, and the most ramping reveries of the fancy that can be. I know not whether my reader understands now what I mean; but if he at|tentively regards all that passes through his mind, perhaps he may hereafter by experience.

8. Repel all impure and lascivious thoughts; which taint and pollute the mind; and though hid from men, are known to GOD, in whose eye they are abominable. Our saviour warns us against these as a kind of spiritual fornication* 1.99, and inconsist|ent with that purity of heart which his gospel re|quires.

9. Take care how you too much indulge gloomy and melancholy thoughts. Some are disposed to see every thing in the worst light. A black cloud hangs hovering over their minds; which, when it falls in showers through their eyes, is dispersed; and all within is serene again. This is often pure|ly

mechanical; and owing either to some fault in the bodily constitution, or some accidental disor|der in the animal frame. However, one that con|sults the peace of his own mind will be upon his guard against this, which so often robs him of it.

10. On the other hand, let not the imagination be too sprightly and triumphant. Some are as unreas|onably exalted, as others are depressed; and the same person at different times often runs into both extremes; according to the different temper and flow of the animal spirits. And therefore the thoughts, which so eagerly crowd into the mind at such times, ought to be suspected and well guard|ed; otherwise they will impose upon our judgments and lead us to form such a notion of ourselves and of things, as we shall soon see sit to alter, when the mind is in a more settled and sedate frame.

Before we let our thoughts judge of things, we must set reason to judge our thoughts; for they are not always in a proper condition to execute that office. We do not believe the character which a man gives us of another, unless we have a good opinion of his own; so neither should we believe the verdict which the mind pronounces, till we first examine whether it be impartial and unbiassed; whether it be in a proper temper to judge, and have proper lights to judge by. The want of this pre|vious act of self judgment, is the cause of much self deception and false judgment.

Lastly. With abhorrence reject immediately all profane and blasphemous thoughts; which are some|times

suddenly injected into the mind, we know not how, though we may give a pretty good guess from whence. And all those thoughts which are appar|ently temptations and inducements to sin, our Lord hath, by his example, taught us to treat in this manner * 1.100.

These then are the thoughts we should carefully guard against.—And as they will (especially some of them) be frequently insinuating themselves into the heart, remember to set reason at the door of it to guard the passage, and bar their entrance, or drive them out forthwith when entered; not only as impertinent, but mischievous intruders.

But, II. There are other kinds of thoughts which we ought to indulge and with great care and dili|gence retain and improve.

Whatever thoughts give the mind a rational or religious pleasure, and tend to improve the heart and understanding, are to be favoured, often recall|ed, and carefully cultivated. Nor should we dis|miss them, till they have made some impressions on the mind, which are like to abide there.

And to bring the mind into a habit of recover|ing, retaining, and improving such thoughts, two things are necessary.

1. To habituate ourselves to a close and rational way of thinking. And 2. To moral reflections and relig|ious contemplations.

1. To prepare and dispose the mind for the en|tertainment of good and useful thoughts, we must

take care to accustom it to a close and rational way of thinking.

When you have started a good thought, pursue it; do not presently lose sight of it, or suffer any trifling suggestion that may intervene to divert you from it. Dismiss it not till you have sifted and exhausted it; and well considered the several con|sequences and inferences that result from it. How|ever, retain not the subject any longer than you find your thoughts run freely upon it; for to con|fine them to it when it is quite worn out, is to give them an unnatural bent, without sufficient employment; which will make them flag, or be more apt to run off to something else.

And to keep the mind intent on the subject you think of, you must be at some pains to recal and re|fix your desultory and rambling thoughts. Lay open the subject in as many lights and views as it is ca|pable of being represented in. Clothe your best ideas in pertinent and well chosen words, delibe|rately pronounced; or commit them to writing.

Whatever be the subject, admit of no inferences from it, but what you see plain and natural. This is the way to furnish the mind with true and solid knowledge. A••, on the contrary, false knowl|edge proceeds from not understanding the subject, or drawing inferences from it which are forced and unnatural; and allowing to those precarious infer|ences, or consequences drawn from them, the same degree of credibility as to the most rational and best established principles.

Beware of a superficial, flight, or confused view of things. Go to the bottom of them, and examine the foundation; and be satisfied with none but clear and distinct ideas (when they can be had) in every thing you read, hear, or think of. For resting in imperfect and obscure ideas, is the source of much confusion and mistake.

Accustom yourself to speak naturally, pertinent|ly, and rationally, on all subjects, and you will soon learn to think so on the best; especially if you often converse with those persons that speak, and those authors that write in that manner.

Such a regulation and right management of your thoughts and rational powers, will be of great and general advantage to you, in the pursuit of youth|ful knowledge, and a good guard against the levities and frantick fallies of the imagination. Nor will you be sensible of any disadvantage attending it, ex|cepting one, viz. its making you more sensible of the weakness and ignorance of others who are often talking in a random, inconsequential manner; and whom it may oftentimes be more prudent to bear with, than contradict. But the vast benefit this method will be of in tracing out truth, and detect|ing errour, and the satisfaction it will give you in the cool and regular exercises of self employment, and in the retaining, pursuing, and improving good and useful thoughts, will more than compensate that petty disadvantage.

2. If we would have the mind furnished and en|tertained with good thoughts, we must inure it to re|ligious and moral subjects.

It is certain the mind cannot be more nobly and usefully employed than in such kind of contempla|tions. Because the knowledge it thereby acquires, is of all others the most excellent knowledge; and that both in regard of its object and its end; the ob|ject of it being GOD, and the end of it eternal hap|piness.

The great end of religion is to make us like GOD, and to conduct us to the enjoyment of him. And what|ever hath not this plain tendency, and especially of it have the contrary, men may call religion (if they please) but they cannot call it more out of its name. And whatever is called religious knowl|edge, if it does not direct us in the way to this end, is not religious knowledge; but something else falsely so called. And some are unhappily accustomed to such an abuse of words and understanding, as not only to call, but to think those things religion, which are quite the reverse of it, and those notions re|ligious knowledge, which lead them the farthest from it.

The sincerity of a true religious principle, cannot be better known, than by the readiness with which the thoughts advert to GOD, and the pleasure with which they are employed in devout exercises. And though a person may not always be so well pleased with hearing religious things talked of by others, whose different taste, sentiments, or manner of ex|pression may have something disagreeable; yet if he have no inclination to think of them himself, or to converse with himself about them, he hath great reason to suspect that his heart is not right with

GOD. But if he frequently and delightfully exer|cise his mind in divine contemplations, it will not only be a good mark of his sincerity, but will habit|ually dispose it for the reception of the best and most useful thoughts, and fit it for the noblest enter|tainments.

Upon the whole then, it is of as great importance for a man to take heed what thoughts he entertains as what company he keeps; for they have the same effect upon the mind. Bad thoughts are as infec|tious as bad company; and good thoughts solace, instruct, and entertain the mind, like good compa|ny. And this is one great advantage of retirement: that a man may choose what company he pleases from within himself.

As in the world we oftener light into bad com|pany than good, so in solitude we are oftener troub|led with impertinent and unprofitable thoughts, than entertained with agreeable and useful ones. And a man that hath so far lost the command of himself, as to lie at the mercy of every foolish or vexing thought, is much in the same situation as a host, whose house is open to all comers; whom, though ever so noisy, rude and troublesome, he can|not get rid of; but with this difference, that the latter hath some recompense for his trouble, the for|mer none at all; but is robbed of his peace and quiet for nothing.

Of such vast importance to the peace, as well as the improvement of the mind, is the right regula|tion of the thoughts. Which will be my apology

for dwelling so long on this branch of the subject; which I shall conclude with this one observation more; that it is a very dangerous thing to think, as too many are apt to do, that it is a matter of in|difference what thoughts they entertain in their hearts; since the reason of things concurs with the testimony of the holy scriptures to assure us, that the allowed thought of folishness is sin* 1.101 * 1.102.

CHAP. XV.

Concerning the Memory.

XIV. A MAN that knows himself will have a re|gard not only to the management of his thoughts, but the improvement of his memory.

The memory is that faculty of the soul, which was designed for the storehouse or repository of its most useful notions; where they may be laid up in safety, to be produced upon proper occasions.

Now a thorough self acquaintance cannot be had without a proper regard to this in two respects. 1. Its furniture. 2. Its improvement.

1. A man that knows himself will have a regard to the furniture of his memory; not to load it with trash and lumber, a set of useless notions or low

conceits, which he will be ashamed to produce be|fore persons of taste and judgment.

If the retention be bad, do not crowd it. It is of as ill consequence to overload a weak memory, as a weak stomach. And that it may not be cum|bered with trash, take heed what company you keep, what books you read, and what thoughts you favour; otherwise a great deal of useless rubbish may fix there before you are aware, and take up the room which ought to be possessed by better notions. But let not a valuable thought slip from you, though you pursue it with much time and pains before you overtake it. The regaining and refixing it may be of more avail to you than many hours reading.

What pity it is that men should take such im|mense pains, as some do, to learn those things which, as soon as they become wise, they must take as much pain•• to unlearn!—A thought that should make us very curious and cautious about the proper fur|niture of our minds.

2. Self knowledge will acquaint a man with the extent and capacity of his memory, and the right way to improve it * 1.103.

There is no small art in improving a weak mem|ory, so as to turn it to as great an advantage as many do theirs which are much stronger. A few short

rules to this purpose may be no unprofitable di|gression.

1. Beware of every sort of intemperance in the indulgence of the appetites and passions. Excesses. of all kinds do a great injury to the memory.

2. If it be weak, do not overlade it. Charge it only with the most useful and solid notions. A small vessel should not be stuffed with lumber. But if its freight be precious, and judiciously stowed, it may be more valuable than a ship of twice its burden.

3. Recur to the help of a common place book, ac|cording to Mr. Locke's method; and review it once a year. But take care that by confiding to your minutes or memorial aids, you do not excuse the labour of the memory; which is one disadvantage attending this method.

4. Take every opportunity of uttering your best thoughts in conversation, when the subject will ad|mit it; that will deeply imprint them. Hence the tales which common story tellers relate, they never forget, though ever so silly. * 1.104

5. Join to the idea you would remember, some other that is more familiar to you, which bears some similitude to it, either in its nature, or in the sound

of the word by which it is expressed; or that hath some relation to it either in time or place. And then by recalling this, which is easily remembered, you will, (by that concatenation or connection of ideas which Mr. Locke takes notice of) draw in that which is thus linked or joined with it; which oth|erwise you might hunt after in vain.—This rule is of excellent use to help you to remember names.

6. What you are determined to remember, think of before you go to sleep at night, and the first thing in the morning when the faculties are fresh. And recollect at evening every thing worth remembering the day past.

7. Think it not enough to furnish this store|house of the mind with good thoughts, but lay them up there in order, digested or ranged under proper subjects or classes; that whatever subject you have occasion to think or talk upon, you may have re|course immediately to a good thought which you heretofore laid up there under that subject. So that the very mention of the subject may bring the thought to hand; by which means you will carry a regular common place book in your memory. And it may not be amiss sometimes to take an inventory of this mental furniture, and recollect how many good thoughts you have treasured up under such particular subjects, and whence you had them.

Lastly. Nothing helps the memory more than often thinking, writing or talking on those subjects you would remember.—But enough of this.

CHAP. XVI.

Concerning the Mental Taste.

XV. A MAN that knows himself, is sensible of, and attentive to the particular taste of his mind, especially in matters of religion.

As the late Mr. Howe judiciously observes, "there is beside bare understanding and judgment, and diverse from that heavenly gift, which in the scrip|ture is called grace, such a thing as gust and relish belonging to the mind of man, (and, I doubt not, with all men, if they observe themselves) and which are as unaccountable, and as various as the relishes and disgusts of sense. This they only wonder at who understand not themselves, or will consider nobody but themselves.—So that it cannot be said univer|sally, that it is a better judgment, or more grace that determines men the one way or the other; but somewhat in the temper of their minds distinct from both, which I know not how better to express than by MENTAL TASTE.—And this hath no more of mystery in it, than that there is such a thing belonging to our natures as complacency and dis|placency in reference to the objects of the mind. And this, in the kind of it, is as common to men as human nature; but as much diversified in individ|uals as men's other inclinations are." * 1.105

Now this different taste in matters relating to re|ligion, (though it may be sometimes natural or what is born with a man, yet) generally arises from the

difference of education and custom. And the true reason why some persons have an inveterate dis|relish to certain circumstantials of religion, though ever so justifiable, and at the same time a fixed esteem for others that are more exceptionable, may be no better than what I have heard some very honestly profess, viz. that the one they have been used to, and the other not. As a person by long use and habit acquires a greater relish for coarse and unwholesome food than the most delicate diet; so a person long habituated to a set of phrases, no|tions, and modes, may, by degrees, come to have such a veneration and esteem for them as to despise and condemn others which he has not been accus|tomed to, though perhaps more edifying and more agreeable to scripture and reason.

This particular taste in matters of religion differs very much (as Mr. Howe well observes) both from judgment and grace.

However, it is often mistaken for both: When it is mistaken for the former, it leads to errour; when mistaken for the latter, to censoriousness.

This different taste of mental objects is much the same with that, which, with regard to the objects of sense we call fancy; for as one man cannot be said to have a better judgment in food than another, purely because he likes some kind of meats better than he; so neither can he be said to have a better judgment in matters of religion purely because he hath a greater fondness for some particular doc|trines and forms.

But though this mental taste be not the same as the judgment, yet it often draws the judgment to it; and sometimes very much perverts it.

This appears in nothing more evidently than in the judgment people pass upon the sermons they hear. Some are best pleased with those discourses which are pathetick and warming, others with what is more solid and rational, and others with the sublime and mystical; nothing can be too plain for the taste of some, or too refined for that of others. Some are for having the address only to their reason and understanding, others only to their affections and passions, and others to their experience and consci|ences. And every hearer or reader is apt to judge according to his particular taste, and to esteem him the best preacher or writer who pleases him most; without examining first his own particular taste, by which he judgeth.

It is natural indeed for every one to desire to have his own taste pleased, but it is unreasonable in him to set it up as the best, and make it a test and standard to others. But much more unreason|able to expect that he who speaks in publick should always speak to his taste; which might as reason|ably be expected by another of a different one. It is equally impossible that what is delivered to a multitude of hearers should alike suit all their tastes, as that a single dish, though prepared with ever so much art and exactness, should equally please a great variety of appetites; among which there may be some, perhaps, very nice and sickly.

It is the preacher's duty to adapt his subjects to the taste of his hearers, as far as fidelity and con|science will admit; because it is well known from reason and experience, as well as from the advice and practice of the apostle Paul, * 1.106 that this is the best way to promote their edification. But if their taste be totally vitiated, and incline them to take in that which will do them more harm than good, and to relish poison more than food, the most charitable thing the preacher can do in that case is, to endeavour to correct so vicious an appetite, which loathes that which is most wholesome, and craves pernicious food; this, I say, it is his duty to at|tempt in the most gentle and prudent manner he can, though he run the risk of having his judgment or orthodoxy called into question by them, as it very possibly may; for commonly they are the most arbitrary and unmerciful judges in this case, who are least of all qualified for that office.

There is not perhaps a more unaccountable weakness in human nature than this, that with re|gard to religious matters our animosities are gene|rally greatest where our differences are least; they who come pretty near to our standard, but stop short there, are more the objects of our disgust and censure, than they who continue at the greatest distance from it. And in some cases it requires

much candour and self command to get over this weakness. To whatever secret spring in the hu|man mind it may be owing, I shall not stay to in|quire; but the thing itself is too obvious not to be taken notice of.

Now we should all of us be careful to find out and examine our proper taste of religious things; that if it be a false one, we may rectify it; if a bad one, mend it; if a right and good one, strengthen and improve it. For the mind is capable of a false gust, as well as the palate; and comes by it the same way; viz. by being long used to unnatural rel|ishes, which by custom become grateful. And having found out what it is, and examined it by the test of scripture, reason and conscience, if it be not very wrong, let us indulge it, and read those books that are most suited to it, which for that reason will be most edifying. But at the same time let us take care of two things, 1. That it do not bias our judgment, and draw us into errour, 2. That it do not cramp our charity, and lead us to censoriousness.

CHAP. XVII.

Of our great and governing Views in Life.

XVI. ANOTHER part of self knowledge is, to know what are the great ends for which we live.

We must consider what is the ultimate scope we drive at; the general maxims and principles we

live by; or whether we have not yet determined our end, and are governed by no fixed principles; or by such as we are ashamed to own.

The first and leading dictate of prudence is, "that a man propose to himself his true and best interest for his end; and the next is that he make use of all those means and opportunities whereby that end is to be obtained. This is the most effectual way that I know of to secure to one's self the character of a wise man here, and the reward of one hereaf|ter. And between these two there is such a close connexion, that he who does not do the latter, can|not be supposed to intend the former. He that is not careful of his actions shall never persuade me that he seriously proposes to himself his best inter|est, as his end; for if he did, he would as serious|ly apply himself to the other, as the means." * 1.107

There are few that live so much at random as not to have some main end in eye; something that influences their conduct, and is the great object of their pursuit and hope. A man cannot live with|out some leading views; a wise man will always know what they are, whether it is fit he should be led by them or no; whether they be such as his understanding and reason approve, or only such as fancy and inclination suggest. He will be as much concerned to act with reason, as to talk with reason; as much ashamed of a solecism and con|tradiction in his character, as in his conversation.

Where do our views centre? In this world we are in; or that we are going to? If our hopes

and joys centre here, it is a mortifying thought, that we are every day departing from our happiness; but if they are fixed above, it is a joy to think that we are every day drawing nearer to the object of our highest wishes.

Is our main care to appear great in the eye of man; or good in the eye of GOD? If the former, we expose ourselves to the pain of a perpetual dis|appointment. For it is much if the envy of men do not rob us of a good deal of our just praise, or if our vanity will be content with that portion of it they allow us. But if the latter be our main care, if our chief view is to be approved of GOD, we are laying up a fund of the most lasting and solid satisfactions. Not to say that this is the truest way to appear great in the eye of men; and to concili|ate the esteem of all those whose praise is worth our wish.

"Be this then, O my soul, thy wise and steady pursuit; let this circumscribe and direct thy views; be this a law to thee, from which account it a sin to depart, whatever disrespect or contempt it may expose thee to from others * 1.108; be this the cha|racter thou resolvest to live up to, and at all times to maintain both in publick and private * 1.109, viz. a

friend and lover of God; in whose favour thou centerest all thy present and future hopes. Carry this view with thee through life, and dare not in any instance to act inconsistently with it."

CHAP. XVIII.

How to know the true State of our Souls; and whether we are fit to die.

LASTLY, The most important point of self knowl|edge, after all, is to know the true state of our souls towards GOD; and in what condition we are to die.

These two things are inseparably connected in their nature, and therefore I put them together. The knowledge of the former will determine the latter, and is the only thing that can determine it; for no man can tell whether he is fit for death, till he is acquainted with the true state of his own soul.

This now is a matter of such vast moment, that it is amazing any considerate man, or any one who thinks what it is to die, can be satisfied, so long as it remains an uncertainty.—Let us trace out this important point then with all possible plain|ness; and see if we cannot come to some satisfac|tion in it upon the most solid principles.

In order to know then whether we are fit to die, we must first know what it is that fits us for death.—And the answer to this is very natural and

easy; viz. that only fits us for death, that fits us for happiness after death.

This is certain.—But the question returns. What is it that fits us for happiness after death?

Now in answer to this, there is a previous ques|tion necessary to be determined; viz. What that happiness is?

It is not a fool's paradise, or a Turkish dream of sensitive gratifications. It must be a happiness suit|ed to the nature of the soul, and what it is capable of enjoying in a state of separation from the body. And what can that be, but the enjoyment of GOD, the best of beings and the author of ours?

The question then comes to this; What is that which fits us for the enjoyment of GOD, in the fu|ture state of separate spirits?

And methinks we may bring this matter to a very sure and short issue; by saying it is that which makes us like to him now.—This only is our proper qualification for the enjoyment of him after death, and therefore our only proper preparation for death. For how can they, who are unlike to GOD here, expect to enjoy him hereafter? And if they have not just ground to hope that they shall enjoy GOD in the other world, how are they fit to die?

So that the great question, Am I fit to die? Re|solves itself into this, Am I like to GOD? For it is this only that fits me for heaven, and that which fits me for heaven, is the only thing that fits me for death.

Let this point then be well searched into, and examined very deliberately and impartially.

Most certain it is, that GOD can take no real complacency in any but those that are like him; and it is as certain, that none but those that are like him can take pleasure in him.—But GOD is a most pure and holy being; a being of infinite love, mercy and patience; whose righteousness is invariable, whose veracity inviolable, and whose wisdom unerring. These are the moral attributes of the divine being, in which he requires us to imitate him; the express lineaments of the divine nature, in which all good men bear a resem|blance to him; and for the sake of which only they are the objects of his delight: For GOD can love none but those that bear this im|press of his own image on their souls.—Do we find then these visible traces of the divine image there? Can we make out our likeness to him in his holiness, goodness, mercy, righteousness, truth and wisdom? If so, it is certain, we are ca|pable of enjoying Him, and are the proper objects of his love.—By this we know we are fit to die; because by this we know we are fit for happiness af|ter death.

Thus then, if we are faithful to our consciences, and impartial in the examination of our lives and tempers, we may soon come to a right determina|tion of this important question, What is the true state of our souls towards GOD? and in what condition we are to die? * 1.110 Which as it is the most important, so

it is the last instance of self knowledge I shall men|tion: And with it close the first part of this sub|ject.

Notes

• * 1.1

  He was the prince of the philosophers, and flourished about A. M. 3330, and was cotemporary with Josiah king of Judah.
• * 1.2

  See Stanley's Life of Thales.
• * 1.3

  Respue quod non es: tollat sua munera cerdo. Tecum habita: et noris quam fit tibi corta supellex. Pers. Sat. 4.

  —Nec te q••aesiverit extra. Id. Sat. ••.

  —Te consule, die tibi quis fit. Juv. Sat. 12.

  Teipsum concute. Hor. lib. 1. Sat. 3.

  Bellum est chim sua vitia nosse. Cic. Epist. ad Atticum. lib. 2.

  Illud (〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉) noli petare ad arrogantiam minuendam solum esse 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 etiam ut bona nostra norimus. Id. Epist. ad Mar. Q Fratrem. lib. 3. Epist. 6.

  Id enim maximé quemque decet quod est cujusq••e suum maxi|me. Quisque igitus noscat ingenium, acremque se et bonorum et vitiorum suurum Juditem praebeat. Id. de offic. lib. 2.

  Intrandum est igitur in rerum naturam, et penitus, quid ea postulat pervidendum; aliter enim nosmet ipsos nosse non possu|mus. Id. de finibus. lib. 5.
• * 1.4

  Haecenim (i. e. philosophia) nos cum caeteras res omnes tum quod est difficilimum, docuit; ut [NOSMET IPSOS] nosceremus. Cujus praecepti tanta vis, tanta sapientia est, ut ea non humini cuipiam, sed Delphico Deo tribueretur. Cicero de legib. lib. ••.

  Quod praeceptum quia majus erat quam ut ab homine vider••tus idcirco assignatum est Deo: Jubet igitur nos Pythius Apollo, nos|cere [NOSMET IPSOS] Idem de Finibus, lib. 5. cap. 16.

  Etnimirum hanc hab••t vim praeceptum apollinis, quo monet ut se quisque noscat—hunc igitur nosse, (i. e. animum) nisi divi|num esset, non esset hoc acrioris cujusdam animi praeceptum, sic ut tributum Deo fit: hoc est seipsum posse congnoscere. Idem Tuscus. Quae i. lib. 5.
• * 1.5

  James i. 23.
• * 1.6

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Heb. iv. 12.
• * 1.7

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉2 Cor. xiii. 5.—Tho' 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 signifies to approve as well as to prove, yet that our translators have hit upon the true sense of the word here, in rendering it prove yourselves, is apparent, not only from the word immediately pre|ceding (〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉) which is of the same import, but be|cause self probation is always necessary to a right self approbation.

  "Every christian ought to try himself, and may know himself if he be faithful in examining. The frequent exhortations of scripture hereunto imply both these, viz. that the knowledge of ourselves is attainable, and that we should endeavour after it. Why should the apostle put them upon examining and proving themselves, unless it was possible to know themselves upon such trying and proving?" Bennet's Christ. Oratory, p. 568.
• * 1.8

  1 Cor. xi. 28.
• * 1.9

  Luke ix. 5••.
• * 1.10

  Gal. vi. 3. 4.
• * 1.11

  Prov. iv. 23.
• * 1.12

  Psal. iv. 4.
• * 1.13

  Psal. cxxxix. 23.
• * 1.14

  Psal. xxvi. 2.
• * 1.15

  Lam. iii. 4.
• * 1.16

  Zeph. ii. 1. 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.17

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉—the verb (〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉) properly signifies to glean, or gather together scattered sticks or straws; as appears from all the places where the word is used in the Old Testament. (Exod. v. 7, 12. Numb. xv. 32. 1 Kings, xvii. 10.) Hence by an easy metaphor it signifies to recollect, or gather the scattered thoughts together; and ought to be so rendered, when used in the reflective form, as here it is. So saith R. Kimchi, (〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉) est 〈◊〉〈◊〉 stip|ulas colligere. Id fit accuratâ scrutatione, hinc dicitur de qualibet Inquisitione. Whence I think it is evident that the word should be rendered as above.
• * 1.18

  Clement Alexandrinus saith, that Moses by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 phrase, so common in his writings, Take heed to thyself (Exod. x. 28. xxxiv. 12. Deut. iv. 9.) means the same thing as the ancients old by their 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉. Strom. lib. 2. car. 5.
• * 1.19

  Isa. i. 3.
• * 1.20

  "There is nothing men are more deficient in, than know|ing their own characters. I know not how this science comes to be so much neglected. We spend a great deal of time in learning useless things, but take no pains in the study of ourselves; and in opening the folds and ••oubles of the heart." Reflections on Ridi|cule, page 61.
• * 1.21

  Praeceptum Apollinis quo monet, ut se quisque noscat, non enim, credo, id praecipit; ut membra nostra aut staturam figu|ramque noscamus: neque no•• corpors fumus; neque ego, tibi di|cens hoe, corpori tuo dico: cum igitur NOSCE TE dicit, hoe dicti, nosee aminum tuum. Nam corpus quidem quasi vas est, aut aliquod animi receptaculum; ab animo tuio quicquid agitur id agicur a te. Cic. Tuscul. Quaest. lib. 1.
• * 1.22

  2 Cor. v. 1. Rom. vi. 13.—〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Nemes. de Nat. Hom. cap. 6.

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Mar. Anton. lib. x. § 37. When you talk of a man, I would not have you tack flesh and blood to the notion, nor those limbs neither which are made out of it; these are but tools for the soul to work with: And no more a part of a man, than an axe or a plane is a piece of a carpenter. It is true, nature hath glued them together, and they grow as it were to the soul, and there is all the difference. Collier.
• * 1.23

  'Tis virtue only makes our bliss below, And all our knowledge is OURSELVES TO KNOW. Pope's Essay on Mac.
• * 1.24

  1 Cor. viii. 1.
• * 1.25

  This doctrine, I think, is established beyond all dispute, not only by experience, but by authority. It was received by almost all the ancient philosophers. The Pythagoreans; as we learn from Jamblicus, vid. Protrept. p. 34, 35. The Platonists; as appears from Nemesius, Salust, and Laertius, vid. Di. Laertius, lib. 3. p. 219. The Stoicks; as appears from Antoninus, who saith expressly, "There are three things which belong to a man; the body, soul, and the mind. And as to the properties of the division, sensation belongs to the body, appetite to the soul, and reason to the mind: 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉" lib. 3. § 16 lib. 2. § 2. lib. 12. § 3.—Itappears also to have been the opinion of most of the Fathers. vid. Irenaeus, lib. 5. cap. 9. lib. 2. cap. 33. Ed. Par. Clem. Alex. Strom. 3. p. 542. Ed. Oxon. Crigen. Philocal. p. 8. Ignat. Ep. ad. Philadelph. ad cal|cem. See also Joseph. Antiq. lib. 1. cap. 2. p. 5. Constitut. Apostol. lib. 7. cap. 34.—But above all these, is the authority of scripture, which, speaking of the original formation of man, men|tions the three distinct parts of his nature. Gen. ii. 7. viz. 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 the dust of the earth, or the body: 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 the living soul, or the animal and sensitive part: And 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 the breath of life, i. e. the spirit or rational mind. In like manner the Apostle Paul divides the whole man into 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 the spirit, the soul, and the body, 1 Thess. v. 23. and what he calls 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 here he calls 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Rom. vii. 24. the word which Antoninus uses to denote the same thing.—They who would see more of this, may consult Namesiuade Natura Hominis, cap. 1. and Whiston's prim. Christ. vol. 4. pag. 262.

  All the observation I shall make hereupon is, that this consider|ation may serve to soften the prejudices of some against the ac|count which scripture gives us of the mysterious manner of the existence of the divine nature: Of which every man (as created in the images of GOD) carries about him a kind of emblem, in the threefold distinction of the own; which, if he did not every min|ute find it by experience to be fact, would doubtless appear to him altogether s mysterious and incomprehensible as the scripture doctrine of the trinity.

  "Homo habet tres partes, spiritum, animam, et corpus; itaque Homo est Imago S. S. Trinitatis." August. Tractat, de Symbolo.
• * 1.26

  As nature delights in the most easy transitions from one class of beings to another, and as the nexus utriusque generis is observable in several creatures of ambiguous nature, which seem to connect the lifeless and vegetable, the vegetable and animal, the animal and rational worlds together; (See Nemesius de Nat. Hom. cap. 1. p. 6.) why may not the souls of brutes be considered as the nexus between material and immaterial substances, or mat|ter and spirit, or something between both? The great diffimilitude of nature in these two substances, I apprehend, can be no solid ob|jection to this hypothesis, if we consider (beside our own ignorance of the nature of spirits) but now nearly they approach in other in|stances, and how closely they are united in man.
• * 1.27

  It is said when the prince of the Latin poets was asked by his friend, why he studied so much accuracy in the plan of his po|em, the propriety of his characters, and the purity of his diction; he replied, in aeternum pingo, I am writing for eternity. What more weighty consideration to justify and enforce the utmost vigil|ance and circumspection of life, than this; in aeternum vivo, I am living for eternity?
• * 1.28

  Major sum, et ad majors natus, quam quod sim corporis man|ciplum. Quod equidem non aliter uspicio quam rinculum libertati meae circumdatum. Sen. Ep. 66.

  "I am too noble, and of too high a birth" (saith that excellent moralist) "to be a slave to my body; which I look upon only as a chain thrown upon the liberty of my soul."
• * 1.29

  As it is not the design of this treatise to enter into a nice and philosophical disquisition concerning the nature of the human soul, but to awaken men's attention to the inward operations and affec|tions of it, (which is by far the most necessary part of self know|ledge) so they who would be more particularly informed concerning its nature and original, and the various opinions of the ancients about it, may consult Nemes. de Nat. Hom. cap. 1. and a treat|tise called The Government of the Thoughts, chap. 1. and Cham|ber's Cyclopaedia, under the word SOUL.
• * 1.30

  "Thou must expire, my soul ordain'd to range Through unexperienc'd scenes, and myst'ries strange: Dark the event, and dismal the exchange. But when compell'd to leave this house of clay, And to an unknown somewhere wing thy way; When time shall be eternity, and thou Shalt be thou know'st not what, nor where, nor how, Trembling and pale. what wilt thou see or do? Amazing state!—No wonder that we dread The thoughts of death or faces of the dead. His black retinue sorely strikes our mind; Sickness and pain before, and darkness all behind. Some courteous ghost, the secret then reveal; Tell us what you have felt, and we must feel. You warm us of approaching death, and why Will you not teach us what it is to die? But having shot the gulph, you love to view Succeeding spirits plung'd along like you; Nor lend a friendly hand to guide them through. When dire disease shall cut, or age unite The knot of life and suffer us to die: When after some delay, some trembling strife, The soul stands quiv'ring on the ridge of life; With fear and ••ope she throbs, then curious tries Some strange hereafter, and some hidden skies."

  Norris.
• * 1.31

  〈◊〉〈◊〉. lxiv. 8.
• * 1.32

  Cal. iii. 26.
• * 1.33

  Mal. i. 6.
• * 1.34

  Job xxxiii. 13. Rom. xi. 33.
• * 1.35

  Heb. xii. 10.
• * 1.36

  1 Pet. i. 6.
• * 1.37

  Ezra ix. 13.
• * 1.38

  See Mr Baxter's dedicatory epistle, prefixed to his treatise on the benefits of self acqucintance.
• * 1.39

  1 Cor. i. 12.
• * 1.40

  1 Cor. iii. 4.
• * 1.41

  1 Pet. ii. 21.
• * 1.42

  Matt. xi. 29.
• * 1.43

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Pythag. Aur. Carm.

  A fatal inbred strife does lurk within, The cause of all this misery and sin.
• * 1.44

  Rom. iii. 10, 12.
• * 1.45

  By this phrase I do not mean that GOD was implacable or absolutely irreconcilable to us till he was pacified by the vicarious sufferings of his son; for how then could he have appointed him to die as our propitiatory sacrifice? But that the death of Christ is the clearest demonstration of GOD's willingness to be actually rec|onciled to us.
• * 1.46

  Epictet, Enchir. cap. 23.—Quomodo fabula, sic vita; non quàm diu, sed quàm bene acta sit, resert. Sen. Ep. 69, ad. sin. Life is a stage play; it matters not how long we act, so we act well.—Non est bonum, vivere, sed bene vivere. Id. de. benef. lib. 3. cap. 31. It is not life but living well, that is the blessing.
• * 1.47

  1 Cor. xii. 8—10.
• * 1.48

  1 Cor. vii. 7.
• * 1.49

  1 Tim. iv. 14, 2 Tim. i. 6.
• * 1.50

  Luke, xix. 20, 24.
• * 1.51

  Matt. xxv. 25, 30.
• * 1.52

  —Buccae Noscenda est mensura tuoe, spectandaque rebus In summis, minimis,—Juv. Sat. 11.

  —versate diu, quid ferre recusent Quid valeant humeri.—Hor. de. Art. Poet.

  He that takes up a burden that is too heavy for him, is in a fair way to break his back.

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Epict. Enchir. cap. 36.

  In every business consider, first, what it is you are about; and then your own ability, whether it be sufficient to carry you through it.
• * 1.53

  —non omnia possumus omnes. Virg.

  Caecilius, a famous Rhetorician of Sicily who lived in the time of Augustus, and writ a treatise on the sublime (which is censured by Longinus in the beginning of his) was a man of a hasty and enterprising spirit, and very apt to overshoot himself on all occasions; and particularly ventured out of his depth in his Comparison of Demosibenos and Cicero. Whereupon Plutarch makes this sage and candid remark. "If (saith he) it was a thing obvious and easy for every man to know himself, possibly that saying, 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 had not passed for a divine oracle." Plut. Liv. Vol. vii. page 347.
• * 1.54

  Phil. iii. 10.
• * 1.55

  Men, with regard to their bodies, and bodily appetites, are pretty much alike; but with regard to their souls, and their men|tal tastes and dispositions, they are often as different as if they were quite of another species; governed by different views, enter|tertained with different pleasures, animated with different hopes, and affected by different motives, and distinguished by as differ|ent tempers and inclinations, as if they were not of the same kind. So that I am very ready to believe, that there is not a greater dif|ference between an angel, and some of the best and wisest of men; or between a devil, and some of the worst and wickedest of men, with regard to their tempers and dispositions, than there is between some sort of men, and some others. And what inclines me to this sentiment is, considering the easy transition which nature always observes in passing from one order or kind of beings to another (which I have before taken notice of) together with the prodigious difference there appears to be between some and others of the hu|man species, almost in every thing belonging to their souls. For some there are "in whom" (as one expresses it) "one would think nature had placed every thing the wrong way;" depraved in their opinions, unintelligible in their reasoning, irregular in their actions, and vicious in every disposition. Whilst in some oth|ers we see almost every thing amiable and excellent that can a|dorn and exalt the human mind, under the disadvantages of mor|tality.
• * 1.56

  Psalm. xviii. 32.
• * 1.57

  Heb. xii. 1.
• * 1.58

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 the well circumstanced sin.
• * 1.59

  See Dr. Lucas's Sermons, Vol. 1. pag. 151.
• * 1.60

  Quis tulerit Gracehos de seditione querentes? Clodius accuset moechus? Catilina Cat••egum? Juv. Sat. 2.
• * 1.61

  O nimis gravis angustia! Si me inspicio, non tolero, meip|sum: Si non inspicio, nescio meipsum. Si me 〈◊〉〈◊〉, terret me facies mea: Si me non considero, falsit me damnatio me. Si me video, horror est intolerabilis: Si non vide•• ••mors est inevitabilis. O grievous streight! If I look into myself, I cannot endure myself, If I look not into myself, I cannot know myself. If I consider myself, my own face affrights me: If I consider not myself, my damnation deceive me. If I see myself, my horror is intolerable: If I see 〈◊〉〈◊〉 myself death is unavoidable. Ans••lme.
• * 1.62

  Baxter.
• * 1.63

  Prov. xxviii. 13.
• * 1.64

  Exod. iv. 6.
• * 1.65

  Initium est 〈◊〉〈◊〉, not••••a peccati: Nam qui peccare se neseit, corrigi non rult. Deprehendance oportet, antequàm em|endes. Quidam vitiis glorimour. To existimas aliquid de reme|dio cogitare, qui mala sun virtut•••••• loco Dumerant? Ideo quan|tum potes teipsum coargos: Inquire in to: Accusatoris primum partibus fungere, deinde judicis, sevissimé deprecatorit. Aliquan|do te offende. Sen. Epist. 28.—The knowledge of sin is the first step towards amendment; for he that does not know he hath offended, is not willing to be reproved. You must therefore find out yourself, before you can amend yourself. Some glory in their vices. And do you imagine they have any thought about reform|ing who place their very vices in the room of virtues? Therefore reprove thyself; search thyself very narrowly. First turn accuser to thyself, then a judge, and then a suppliant. And dare for once to displease thyself.
• * 1.66

  Ethocipsum argumentum est in melius translati animi quod vitia sua, quae adhuc ignorabat, videt. Sen. Epist. 6.——It is a good argument of a reformed mind, that it sees those vices in itself, which it was before ignorant of.

  A man's predominant sin usually arises out of his predominant passion; which therefore he should diligently observe. The na|ture and force of which is beautifully described by a late great master of English verse.

  On different senses diff'rent objects strike, Hence diff'rent passions more or less enflame, As strong or weak, the organs of the frame: And hence one master passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpe•••• swallows up the rest. Nature its mother, habit is its nurse; Wit, spirit, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but make it worse; Reason itself but gives it edge and pow'r, As heav'n's blest beam turns vinegar more sours. Ah I if she lead not arms as well as 〈◊〉〈◊〉, What can she more than tell us we are fools? Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend; A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend!

  Pope's Essay on Man.
• * 1.67

  Principiis obsta: sero medicina paratur, Cum mala per longas invaluere moras. Ovid.
• * 1.68

  —me vestigia terrent Omnia te adversam spectantia, nulla retrorsum. Hor.—Facilis descensus averni. Sed revocare gradum, &c. Virg,
• * 1.69

  Stanhope's Thomas à Kempis, page 22.
• * 1.70

  See religion of nature delin. Page 129.
• * 1.71

  For every trifle scorn to take offence; That always shews great pride, or little sense. Good nature and good sense must always join; To err is human, to forgive divine.

  Pope.
• * 1.72

  A man despises me: What then? Did he know me more, he would perhaps despise me more. But I know myself better than he can know me; and therefore despise myself more. And though his contempt in this instance may be groundless, yet is others it would be but too well founded. I will therefore not only bear with, but forgive it.—Contemnendus est ipse contemptus, faith Seneca. But such retorted scorn is more becoming the character of a strick than a christian.

  It has been reckoned a wise and witty answer which one of the philosophers returned to his friend, who advised him to revenge an injury that had been done him: "What (says he) if an ass kicks me, must I needs kick him again?" And perhaps there is more wit than wisdom in that reply. It seems indeed to carry in it something of a true greatness of mind; but does it not at the same time discover, a kind of haughty and contemptus us spir|it? The truth is, (as a judicious writer observes upon is) "it is at best but a lame and mis••••pen charity; it has more of pride than goodness. We should learn of the holy Jesus, who was not only meek but lowly. We should contemn the injury, and pity the weakness; but should not disdain or dispise the persons of our enemies. Charity vaunteth not himself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly." See Scougal's duty of loving our enemies.
• * 1.73

  In the morning remember to say to thyself; this day per|haps I may meet with some impertinent, ungrateful, peevish, tricking, envious, chur••sh fellow. Now all these ill qualities in them proceed from their ignorance of good and evil. And since I am so happy as to understand the natural beauty of a good action, and the deformity of an ill one, and since the person that obliges me is of near kin to me; and though not just of the same blood and family, yet of the same divine extract as to his mind; and finally, since I am convinced that no one can do me a real in|jury, because he cannot force me to do a dishonest thing; for these reasons I cannot find in my heart to hate him, or so much as to be angry with him. Marx. Anton. Medit. Book 2. § 1.

  You are just taking leave of the world; and have you not yet learned to be friends with every body? And that to be an honest man, is the only way to be a wise one? Id. book 4. § 37.

  To expect an impossibility is madness; now it is impossible for ill men not to do ill things. Id. Book 5. § 1••.

  It is the privilege of human nature above 〈◊〉〈◊〉 love those that offend us; in order to this consider, 1. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 offending party is of kin to you; 2. That he acts thus, because he knows no better; 3. He may have no design to offend you; 4. You will both of you quickly be in your graves; but above all, 5. You have received no harm from him: For your mind or reason is the same as it was before. Id. Book 7. § 22.

  Think upon your last hour, and do not trouble yourself about other people's faults, but leave them there where they must be an|swered for. Id. Book 7. § 20.

  Do not return the temper of ill natured people upon them|selves, nor treat them as they do the rest of mankind. Id. Book 7. § 55.

  Though the gods are immortal, yet they not only patiently bear with a wicked world through so many ages; but what is more, liberally provide for it: And are you, who are just 〈◊〉〈◊〉 off the stage, weary with bearing, though you are one of those unhap|py mortals yourself? Id. Book 7. § 70.

  Never disturb yourself; for men will do the same untoward 〈◊〉〈◊〉 over again, though you burst with 〈…〉〈…〉

  Reform an injurious person if you can; if not remember our patience was given you bear with him. That the gods pati|ently bear with such men, and sometimes bestow upon them health, and fame, and fortune. Id. Book 9. § 11.

  When people treat you ill, and shew their spite, and slander you, enter into their little souls, go to the bottom of them, search their understandings and you will soon see, that nothing they may think or say of you need give you one troublesome thought. Id. Book 9. § 27.

  That is the best thing for a man which GOD sends him; and that is the best time when he sends it. Id. Book 10. § 2.

  It is sometimes a hard matter to be certain, when you have re|ceived ill usage or not; for mens actions oftentimes look worse than they are: And one must be thoroughly informed of a great many things, before he can rightly judge. Id. Book 11. § 18.

  Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief, than from those very things for which you are angry and grieved. Id. Book 11. § 18.

  When you fancy any one hath transgressed, say thus to your|self; "How do I know it is a fault? But admit it is, it may be his conscience hath corrected him; and then he hath received his punishment from himself." Id. Book 12. § 16.

  To these I shall add two more quotations out of the sacred writ|ings, of incomparably greater weight and dignity than any of the forementioned. Prov. xix. 11. The discretion of a man defe••|eth his anger; and it is his glory to pass over a transgression. Rom. xii. 20, 21. If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: For in so doing thou shalt heap ••oals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good,
• * 1.74

  "The wise and prudent conquer difficulties, "By daring to attempt them. Sloth and folly "Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and danger, "And make th' impossibility they fear.

  〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.75

  —〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.76

  Sen. Epist. 52.
• * 1.77

  Specta••. Vol. vi. No. 899.
• * 1.78

  Jurieu's Method of Christian Devotion, Part iii. Chap. iii.
• * 1.79

  2 Kings, x. 16.
• * 1.80

  1 Sam. xvi. 7.
• * 1.81

  Luke xvi. 15.
• * 1.82

  Prov. xxi. 2.
• * 1.83

  Quid enim simile habebat vesanus adolescens, cui provir|tuse erat felix temeritas?—Hic a pueritia latro, gentiumque vas|tator, tam hostium pernicies quam amicorum. Qui summum bonum duceret terrori esse cunctis mortalibus: Oblitus non fero|cissima tantum, sed ignavissima quoque animalia, timeri obvirus malum. Sen de Cenef. cap. 13.

  How different from this is the judgment of Plutarch in this mat|ter? who, in his Oration concerning the fortune and virtue of Alex|ander, exalts him into a true berc, and justifies all the waste he made of mankind under (the same colour with which the Spani|ards excused their inhuman barbarities towards the poor Indians,viz.) a pretence of civilizing them. And in attributing all his success to his virtue, he talks more like a soldier serving under him in his wars, than an historian who lived many years afterwards, whose business it was to transmit his character impartially to fu|ture ages. And in whatever other respects, Mr. Dryden may give the preference to Plutarch before Seneca, (which he does with much zeal in his Preface to Plutrach's Lives) yet it must be allow|ed that in this instance at least, the latter shews more of the Philo|sopher. See Plut. Mor. Vol. I. ad sin.
• * 1.84

  Hab. ii 9, 10. 〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 that gaineth a wicked gain,

  Oh sons of earth I Attempt ye still to rise, By mountains 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on mountains, to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise, Who wickedly is wise or madly brave, Is but the more a fool, or more a knave.

  Pope's Essay on Man.
• * 1.85

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Mark Anton. lib. ix. § 18.
• * 1.86

  Socrates's saying, Nihilse scire, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ipsum, savoured of an affected humility. But they that followed went further; and particularly Areesilas, Negalat esse quicquam, quod ciei potcit, neillud quioem ipsum quod Sacrates fool reliquiss••t. And thus thea absuraity grew to a size that was manstrous. For to know that one knows nothing, is a contradiction. And not to know that he knows even that, is not to know out that he may know something. Relig. of Nat. delin. Page 40.
• * 1.87

  1 Cor. iii. 18.
• * 1.88

  1 Cor. viii. 2.
• * 1.89

  Gal. vi. 3.
• * 1.90

  1 Tim. i. 7.
• * 1.91

  Heb. v. 11.
• * 1.92

  Mare. Anton. Medit. lib. 2. § 11.
• * 1.93

  Mare. Anton. lib. 2. § 8.

  "Nothing can be more unhappy than that man who ranges every where, ransacks every thing, digs into the bowels of the earth, dives into other men's bosoms, but does not consider all the while that his own mind will afford him sufficient scope for inqui|ry and entertainment, and that the care and improvement of him|self will give him business enough." Id. lib. 2. § 15.

  "Your disposition will be suitable to that which you most fre|quently think on; for the soul is, as it were, tinged with the col|our and complexion of its own thoughts." Id. lib. 5. § 16.
• * 1.94

  Phil. iv. 11.
• * 1.95

  Eccles. vii. 9.
• * 1.96

  The christian precept in this case is, Let not the sun go down upon your wrath, Eph. iv. 26. And this precept Plutarcb tells us the Pythagorcans practised in a literal sense: "Who, if at any time in a passion they broke out into opprobious language, before sunset gave one another their hands, and with them a discharge from all injuries; and so with a mutual reconciliation parted friends." Plut. Mor. Vol. iii. pag. 89.
• * 1.97

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Plutarch. de Itâ Cohiben. It is good in a fever, much better in anger, to have the tongue kept clean and smooth.
• * 1.98

  Malitia ipsa maximam partem veneni sui bibit.—Illud ve|nenum quod serpentes in alienam perniciem proferunt, sine sua continent. Non est huic simile; hoc habentibus pess••••um est. Sen. Epist. 82.
• * 1.99

  Matth. v. 28
• * 1.100

  Matt. iv. 10.
• * 1.101

  Prov. xxiv. 9.
• * 1.102

  Nam scelus inter setacitum qui cogitat ullom Facti crimen habet. Juv. Sat. 14.

  Guard well thy thoughts; our thoughts are heard in heav'n, Young.
• * 1.103

  Tribus rebus potissimum constat optima memoria, intel|lectu, ordine, cura, siquidem bona memoriae pars est rem penitus intellexisse; tum, ordo facit, ut qum semel exciderent, quasi postli|minio in animum revocamus; porro cura omnibus it rebus, non hic tantum plurimum valet. Erasm. de rat, stud, ad calc. Ringel|bergii, p. 168.
• * 1.104

  Quicquid didiceris id coafestim doceas; sic et tua firmare, et prodesse aliis potes. Ringelbergius de ratione studii, p. 28.

  Postremo illud non ad unum aliquid, sed ad omnia simul pluri|mum conducet, si frequenter alio•• quoque doceas. Nusquam enim|melius deprehenderis quid intelliges, quid non. Atque interim nova quaeque occurent, commentanti differentique, nihil non altius infigitur animo. Erasoe. Rot, de rat. stud. p. 170.
• * 1.105

  See his humble request both to conformists and dissente••••.
• * 1.106

  Rom. xv. 2. Let every one of us please his neighbour for his good to edification. 1 Cor. ix. 22. To the weak, became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.
• * 1.107

  Nortis's Misc. p. 18.
• * 1.108

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 Epict. Each. cap. 74.—What you have once wisely proved stick to, as a law not to be violated without guilt. And mind not what others say of you.
• * 1.109

  〈in non-Latin alphabet〉〈in non-Latin alphabet〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉. cap. 40.—Fix your character, and keep to it; whether alone or in company.
• * 1.110

  "Nor do I apprehend the knowledge of our state (call it as|surance if you please) so uncommon and extraordinary a thing as some are apt to imagine. Understand by assurance and satisfactory evidence of the thing, such as excludes all reasonable doubts and dis|quieing fears of the contrary, though, it may be, not all transient sus|picions and jealousies. And such an assurance and certainty multi|tudes have attained, and enjoy the comfort of; and indeed it is of so high importance, that it is a wonder any thoughtful christian that believes in eternity can be easy one week or day without it. Bennet's Christ. Orat. pag. 569."