The Christian's Converse with God

The Christian's Converse with God

THE CHRISTIAN'S CONVERSE

WITH GOD JOHN 16:32 Behold the hour cometh, yea, is come, that ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave me alone. And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me.

HAVING treated of our conformity to Christ in sufferings, in general, I since came distinctly to treat of his particular sufferings in which we must be conformed to him: and having gone over many of those particulars, I am this day to handle the instance of 'Christ's being forsaken by his friends and followers.'

He thought meet to foretell them how they should manifest their infirmity and untrustiness in this temporary forsaking of him, that so he might more fully convince them, that he knew what was in man, and that he knew future contingencies, (or things to come, which seem most dependant on the will of man) and that he voluntarily submitted to his deserted state, and expected no support from creatures, but that man should then do least for Christ, when Christ was doing most for man: that man by an unthankful forsaking Christ, should then manifest his forsaken, deplorate state, when Christ was to make atonement for his reconciliation to God, and was preparing the most costly remedy for his recovery. He foretold them of the fruit which their infirmity would produce, to humble them that were apt to think too highly of themselves for the late free confession they had made of Christ, when they had newly said, "Now we are sure that thou knowest all things: by this we are sure that thou comest forth from God." (John 16:30.)

He answereth them, "Do ye now believe? Behold the hour cometh,"

&c. Not that Christ would not have his servants know his graces in them, but he would also have them know the corruption that is latent, and the infirmity consistent with their grace. We are very apt to judge of all that is in us, and of all that we shall do hereafter, by what we feel at the present upon our hearts. As when we feel the stirring of some corruption, we are apt to think that there is nothing else, and hardly perceive the contrary grace, and are apt to think it will never be better with us: so when we feel the exercise of faith, desire or love, we are apt to overlook the contrary corruptions, and to think that we shall never feel more. But Christ would keep us both humble and vigilant, by acquainting us with the mutability and inconstancy of our minds. When it goes well with us, we forget that the time is coming when it may go worse. As Christ said to his disciples here in the case of believing, we may say to ourselves in that and other cases, 'Do we now believe?' It is well: but the time may be coming in which we may be brought to shake with the stirrings of our remaining unbelief, and shrewdly tempted to question the truth of Christianity itself, and of the holy Scriptures, and of the life to come. Do we now rejoice in the persuasions of the love of God? The time may be coming when we may think ourselves forsaken and undone, and think he will esteem and use us as his enemies. Do we now pray with fervour, and pour out our souls enlargedly to God? It is well; but the time may be coming when we shall seem to be as dumb and prayerless, and say, we cannot pray, or else we find no audience and acceptance of our prayers. Christ knoweth that in us which we little know by ourselves; and therefore may foreknow that we will commit such sins, or fall into such dangers, as we little fear.

What Christ here prophesieth to them, did afterwards all come to pass.

As soon as ever danger and trouble did appear, they began to flag, and to shew how ill they could adhere unto him, or suffer with him, without his special corroborating grace. In the garden when he was sweating blood in prayer, they were sleeping: "Though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak:" they could not "watch with him one hour." (Matt. 26:40, 41.) When he was apprehended, they shifted each man for himself, "Then all the disciples forsook him and fled:" (ver.

56:) and as this is said to be "that the Scriptures might be fulfilled,"

(ver. 54, 56,) so it might be said to be, that this prediction of Christ himself might be fulfilled. Not that Scripture prophecies did cause the sin by which they were fulfilled; nor that God caused the sin, to fulfil his own predictions, but that God cannot be deceived who foretold in Scriptures long before that thus it would come to pass. When it is said that "thus it must be that the Scripture might be fulfilled," the meaning is not, that 'thus God will make it be,' or 'thus he causeth men to do,' that he may fulfil the Scriptures. It is not 'necessitas consequentis vel causata,' that is inferred from predictions; but only 'necessitas consequentiæ;' a logical necessity 'in ordine cognoscendi et dicendi;' not a natural necessity 'in ordine essendi:' not a necessity of the thing itself, as caused by the prediction or decree; but a necessity of the truth of this conclusion in arguing; 'such a thing will be, because God hath decreed, foreknown or foretold it:' or, 'whatever God foretelleth, must necessarily come to pass;' that is, will certainly come to pass:

'but this God hath foretold: therefore this will come to pass.'

Here are three observable points in the text, that are worthy our distinct consideration, though for brevity sake I shall handle them together.

1. That Christ was forsaken by his own disciples and left alone.

2. When the disciples left Christ, they were scattered every one to his own. They returned to their old habitations, and old acquaintance, and old employment, as if their hopes and hearts had been almost broken, and they had lost all their labour in following Christ so long. Yet the root of faith and love that still remained, caused them to inquire further of the end, and to come together in secret to confer about these matters.

3. When Christ was forsaken of his disciples and left alone, yet was he not forsaken of his Father, nor left so alone as to be separated from him or his love.

We are now to consider of this not only as a part of Christ's humiliation, but also as a point in which we must expect to be conformed to him. It may possibly seem strange to us that Christ would suffer all his disciples to forsake him in his extremity; and I doubt it will seem strange to us, when in our extremity, and our suffering for Christ (and perhaps for them) we shall find ourselves forsaken by those that we most highly valued, and had the greatest familiarity with. But there are many reasons of this permissive providence open to our observation.

1. No wonder, if when Christ was suffering for sin, he would even then permit the power and odiousness of sin to break forth, that it might be known he suffered not in vain. No wonder, if he permitted

his followers to desert him, and shew the latent unbelief, and selfishness, and unthankfulness that remained in them, that so they might know that the death of Christ was as necessary for them as for others; and the universality of the disease might shew the need that the remedy should be universal. And it is none of Christ's intent to make his servants to seem better than they are, to themselves, or others, or to honour himself by the hiding of their faults, but to magnify his pardoning and healing grace, by the means or occasion of their sins which he pardoneth and healeth.

2. Hereby he will bring his followers to the fuller knowledge of themselves, and shew them that which all their days should keep them humble, and watchful, and save them from presumption and trusting in themselves. When we have made any full confession of Christ, or done him any considerable service, we are apt to say with the disciples, "Behold we have forsaken all and followed thee: what shall we have?" (Matt. 19:27.) As if they had rather been givers to Christ than receivers from him; and had highly merited at his hands. But when Peter forsweareth him, and the rest shift for themselves, and when they come to themselves, after such cowardly and ungrateful dealings; then they will better understand their weakness, and know on whom they must depend.

3. Hereby also they shall better understand what they would have been if God had left them to themselves, that so they may be thankful for grace received, and may not boast themselves against the miserable world, as if they had made themselves to differ, and had not received all that grace by which they excel the common sort. When our falls have hurt us and shamed us, we shall know to whom we must be beholden to support us.

4. Christ would permit his disciples thus far to forsake him, because he would have no support from man, in his sufferings for man. This was part of his voluntary humiliation, to be deprived of all earthly comforts, and to bear affliction even from those few, that but lately were his faithful servants. That men, dealing like men, and sinners, while he was doing like God, and as a Saviour, no man might challenge to himself the honour of contributing to the redemption of the world, so much as by encouraging the Redeemer.

5. Christ did permit the faith and courage of his disciples thus far to fail, that their witness to him might be of the greater credit and authority, when his actual resurrection, and the communication of the Spirit, should compel them to believe. When all their doubts were dissipated, they that had doubted themselves, and yet were constrained to believe, would be received as the most impartial witnesses by the doubting world.

6. Lastly, by the desertion and dissipation of his disciples, Christ would teach us whenever we are called to follow him in suffering, what to expect from the best of men: even to know that of themselves they are untrusty, and may fail us: and therefore not to look for too much assistance or encouragement from them. Paul lived in a time when Christians were more self-denying and steadfast than they are now. And Paul was one that might better expect to be faithfully accompanied in his sufferings for Christ, than any of us: and yet he saith, "At my first answer no one stood with me, but all men forsook me:" (2 Tim. 4:16:) and prayeth, that it be not laid to their charge.

Thus you have seen some reasons why Christ consented to be left of all, and permitted his disciples to desert him in his sufferings.

Yet, note here, that it is but a partial, temporary forsaking that Christ permitteth; and not a total or final forsaking or apostacy. Though he will let them see that they are yet men, he will not leave them to be but as other men: nor will he quite cast them off, or suffer them to perish.

Nor is it all alike that thus forsake him. Peter doth not do as Judas.

The sincere may manifest their infirmity; but the hypocrites will manifest their hypocrisy.

And accordingly in our sufferings, our familiars that were falsehearted (as being worldlings and carnal at the heart) may perhaps betray us, and set against us, or forsake the cause of Christ, and follow the way of gain and honour. When our tempted, shrinking friends, that yet may have some sincerity, may perhaps look strange at us, and seem not to know us, and may hide their heads and shew their fears; and perhaps also begin to study some self-deceiving arguments and distinctions, and to stretch their consciences, and venture on some sin, because they are afraid to venture on affliction; till Christ shall cast a gracious, rebuking, quickening aspect on them, and shame them for their sinful shame, and fear them from their sinful fears, and inflame their love to him by the motions of his love to them, and destroy the love that turned them from him: and then the same men that dishonourably failed Christ and us, and began to shrink, will turn back and reassume their arms, and by patient suffering overcome, and win the crown, as we have done before.

Reasons for your Expecation Use. Christians expect to be conformed to our Lord in this part of his humiliation also. Are your friends yet fast and friendly to you? For all that expect that many of them, at least, should prove less friendly: and promise not yourselves an unchanged constancy in them. Are they yet useful to you? Expect the time when they cannot help you. Are they your comforters and delight, and is their company much of your solace upon earth? Be ready for the time when they may become your sharpest scourges, and most heart-piercing griefs, or at least when you shall say, "We have no pleasure in them." Have any of them, or all, already failed you? What wonder? Are they not men, and sinners? To whom were they ever so constant as not to fail them? Rebuke yourselves for your unwarrantable expectations from them: and learn hereafter to know what man is, and expect that friends should use you as followeth.

1. Some of them that you thought sincere, shall prove perhaps unfaithful and dissemblers, and upon fallings out, or matters of selfinterest, may seek your ruin. Are you better than David, that had an Achitophel? Or than Paul, that had a Demas? Or than Christ, that had a Judas? Some will forsake God: what wonder then if they forsake you? "Because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold." (Matt. 24:12.) Where pride and vain-glory, and sensuality and worldliness are unmortified at the heart, there is no trustiness in such persons: for their wealth, or honour, or fleshly interest, they will part with God and their salvation; much more with their best deserving friends. Why may not you, as well as Job, have occasion to complain,

"He hath put my brethren far from me, and my acquaintance are verily

estranged from me. My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me. They that dwell in my house, and my maidens, count me for a stranger: I am an alien in their sight. I called my servant, and he gave me no answer: I entreated him with my mouth: my breath is strange to my wife; though I entreated for the childrens' sake of my own body: yea, young children despised me: I arose, and they spake against me: all my inward friends abhorred me; and they whom I loved are turned against me." (Job 19:13–19.) Why may not you as well as David be put to say, "Yea mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lift up his heel against me." (Psal. 41:9.) Those that have been most acquainted with the secrets of your soul, and privy to your very thoughts, may be the persons that shall betray you, or grow strange to you. Those that you have most obliged by benefits, may prove your greatest enemies. You may find some of your friends like birds of prey, that hover about you for what they can get, and when they have caught it fly away. If you have given them all that you have, they will forsake you, and perhaps reproach you, because you have no more to give them. They are your friends more for what they yet expect from you, than for what they have already received. If you cannot still be helpful to them, or feed their covetous desires, or supply their wants, you are to them but as one that they had never known. Many a faithful minister of Christ hath studied, and preached, and prayed, and wept for their people's souls, and after all have been taken for their enemies, and used as such; yea even because they have done so much for them. Like the patient, that being cured of a mortal sickness, sued his physician at law for making him sick with the physic. (But it is, indeed, our uncured patients only that are offended with us.) Paul was accounted an enemy to the Galatians, because he told them the truth. Ungrateful

truth maketh the faithfullest preachers most ungrateful. It must seem no wonder to a preacher of the Gospel, when he hath entreated, prayed and wept night and day for miserable souls, and laid his hands as it were under their feet, in hopes of their conversion and salvation, to find them after all his bitterest enemies, and seeking his destruction, that could have laid down his life for their salvation. Jeremy seemed too impatient under this affliction, when he said, "Give heed to me, O

Lord, and hearken to the voice of them that contend with me. Shall evil be recompensed for good? Remember that I stood before thee to speak good for them, and to turn away thy wrath from them. Therefore deliver up their children to the famine, and pour out their blood by the force of the sword," &c. (Jer. 18:19, 20.)

Thus may ingratitude afflict you, and kindness, be requited with unkindness, and the greatest benefits be forgotten, and requited with the greatest wrongs. Your old familiars may be your foes; and you may be put to say as Jeremy, "For I heard the defaming of many: fear on every side. Report, say they, and we will report it. All my familiars watched for my halting, saying, Peradventure he will be enticed, and we shall prevail against him, and we shall take our revenge on him."

(Jer. 20:10.) Thus must the servants of Christ be used, in conformity to their suffering Head.

2. And some that are sincere, and whose hearts are with you, may yet be drawn by temptation to disown you. When malice is slandering you, timorous friendship may perhaps be silent, and afraid to justify you or take your part. When a Peter in such imbecility and fear can disown and deny his suffering Lord, what wonder if faint-hearted friends disown you, or me, that may give them too much occasion or pretence? Why may not you and I be put to say as David did, "My lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore, and my kinsmen

stand afar off. They that seek after my life lay snares for me: and they that seek my hurt speak mischievous things, and imagine deceits all the day long." (Psal. 38:11, 12.) They that in fearfulness will fail their

Maker and Redeemer, and hazard their salvation, may by a smaller temptation be drawn to fail such friends as we.

3. Moreover a hundred things may occasion fallings out even amongst unfeigned friends. Passions may cause inconvenient actions or expressions, and these may cause passions in their friends; and these may grow so high till friends do seem to one another to be like enemies. Paul and Barnabas may grow so hot, as to fall out to a parting. How easily can Satan set fire on the tinder which he findeth in the best and gentlest natures, if God permit him? No friends so near and dear, that passionate weaknesses may not either alienate or make a grief to one another. How apt are we to take unkindnesses at one another, and to be suspicious of our friends, or offended with them!

And how apt to give occasion of such offence! How apt are we to censure one another, and to misinterpret the words and actions of our friends! And how apt to give occasion of such mistakes and cutting censures! And the more kindness we have found in, or expected from our friends, the more their real or supposed injuries will affect us. We are apt to say, 'Had it been a stranger, I could have borne it: but to be used thus by my bosom or familiar friend, goes near my heart.' And indeed, the unkindnesses of friends is no small affliction; the suffering going usually as near the heart, as the person that caused it was near it. Especially when our own weakness causeth us to forget the frailty and infirmities of man, and with what allowances and expectations we must choose and use our friends; and when we forget the love that remained in the midst of passions.

4. Also cross interests and unsuitableness may exceedingly interrupt the fastest friendship. Friendship is very much founded in suitableness, and maintained by it: and among mortals, there is no perfect suitableness to be found; but much unsuitableness still remaineth. That which pleaseth one, is displeasing to another. One liketh this place, and the other that: one liketh this habit, and the other that: one is for mirth, and the other for sadness: one for talk, and the other for silence: one for a public, and the other for a private life. And their personality or individuation having self-love as inseparable, will unavoidably cause a contrariety of interests. The creature is insufficient for us: if one have it, perhaps the other must want it: like a covering too narrow for the bed. Sometimes our reputations seem to stand cross, so that one man's is diminished by another's. And how apt is envy to create a grudge, and raise unfriendly jealousies and distastes! Sometimes the commodity of one is the discommodity of the other: and then mine and thine (which are contrary to the community of friendship) may divide, and alienate, and make two of those that seemed one. The instances of Abraham and Lot (upon the difference among their servants), and of Isaac and Ishmael, and of Jacob and Esau, and of Laban and Jacob, and of Leah and Rachael, and of Joseph and his brethren, and of Saul and David, and of Ziba,

Mephibosheth and David, with many others, tell us this. It is rare to meet with a Jonathan, that will endearedly love that man to the death, who is appointed to deprive him of a kingdom. If one can but say, I suffer by him, or I am a loser by him, it seemeth enough to excuse unfriendly thoughts and actions. When you can gratify the desires of all covetous, ambitious, self-seeking persons in the world, or else cure their diseases, and possess their minds with perfect charity, then all the world will be your friends.

5. Cross opinions also are like to alienate many of your friends. This age hath over and over again given the world as full and sad demonstrations of the power of cross opinions to alienate friends, and make divisions, as most ages of the world have ever had. If your friend be proud, it is wonderful how he will slight you, and withdraw his love, if you be not of his mind. If he be zealous, he is easily tempted to think it a part of his duty to God, to disown you if you differ from him, as taking you for one that disowneth the truth of God, and therefore one that God himself disowneth; or at least to grow cold in his affection toward you, and to decline from you, as he that thinks you do from God. As agreement in opinions doth strangely reconcile affections; so disagreement doth secretly and strangely alienate them: even before you are well aware, your friend hath lost possession of your hearts, because of an unavoidable diversity of apprehensions.

When all your friends have the same intellectual complexion and temperature, and measure of understanding with yourselves, then you may have hope to escape the ruptures which unlikeness and differences of apprehensions might else cause.

6. Moreover, some of your friends may so far overgrow you in wisdom, or wealth, or honour, or worth in their own conceits, that they may begin to take you to be unsuitable for them, and unmeet for their further special friendship. Alas! poor man, they will pity thee that thou art no wiser, and that thou hast no greater light to change thy mind as fast as they, or that thou art so weak and ignorant as not to see what seems to them so clear a truth; or that thou art so simple to cast away thyself by crossing them that might prefer thee, or to fall under the displeasure of those that have power to raise or ruin thee: but if thou be so simple, thou mayest be the object of their lamentation, but art no familiar friend for them. They think it fittest to close and converse

with those of their own rank and stature, and not with such shrubs and children, that may prove their trouble and dishonour.

7. And some of your friends will think that by a more thorough acquaintance with you, they have found out more of your infirmities or faults; and therefore have found that you are less amiable and valuable than at first they judged you. They will think that by distance, unacquaintedness, and an overhasty love and judgment, they were mistaken in you; and that now they see reason to repent of the love which they think was guilty of some errors and excess: when they come nearer you, and have had more trial of you, they will think they are filter to judge of you than before: and indeed our defects are so many, and all our infirmities so great, that the more men know us, the more they may see in us that deserveth pity or reproof; and as pictures, we appear less beautiful at the nearest view: though this will not warrant the withdrawing of that love which is due to friends, and to virtue, even in the imperfect; nor will excuse that alienation, and decay of friendship that is caused by the pride of such as overlook perhaps much greater failings and weaknesses in themselves, which need forgiveness.

8. And perhaps some of your friends will grow weary of their friendship, having that infirmity of human nature, not to be much pleased with one thing long. Their love is a flower that quickly withereth; it is a short lived thing that soon groweth old. It must be novelty that must feed their love and their delight.

9. And perhaps they may have got some better friends in their apprehensions, they may have so much interest as to take them up, and leave no room for ancient friends. It may be, they have met with those that are more suitable, or can be more useful to them: that have

more learning, or wit, or wealth, or power, than you have, and therefore seem more worthy of their friendship.

10. And some of them may think when you are in a low and suffering state, and in danger of worse, that it is part of their duty of selfpreservation to be strange to you (though in heart they wish you well).

They will think they are not bound to hazard themselves upon the displeasure of superiors, to own or befriend you, or any other: though they must not desert Christ, they think they may desert a man for their own preservation.

To avoid both extremes, in such a case, men must both study to understand which way is most serviceable to Christ, and to his church, and withal, to be able to deny themselves, and also must study to understand what Christ meaneth in his final sentence, "In as much as you did it (or did it not) to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it (or did it not) to me." As, if it were to visit the contagious; we must neither cast away our lives to do no good, or for that which in value holdeth no proportion with them; nor yet must we deny to run any hazard when it is indeed our duty: so is it in our visiting those that suffer for the cause of Christ: (only here the owning them being the confessing of him, we need more seldom to fear being too forward).

11. And some of your friends may cover their unfaithfulness with the pretence of some fault that you have been guilty of, some error that you hold, or some unhandsome or culpable act that you have done, or some duty that you have left undone or failed in. For they think there is not a better shelter for their unfaithfulness, than to pretend for it the name and cause of God, and so to make a duty of their sin. Who would not justify them, if they can but prove, that God requireth them, and religion obligeth them, to forsake you for your faults? There are few

crimes in the world that by some are not fathered on God (that most hateth them), as thinking no name can so much honour them. False friends therefore use this means as well as other hypocrites: and though God is love, and condemneth nothing more than uncharitableness and malice, yet these are commonly by false-hearted hypocrites, called by some pious, virtuous names, and God himself is entitled to them: so that few worldlings, ambitious persons or timeservers, but will confidently pretend religion for all their falsehood to their friends, or bloody cruelty to the servants of Christ, that comply not with their carnal interest.

12. Perhaps some of your friends may really mistake your case, and think that you suffer as evil doers, and instead of comforting you, may be your sharpest censurers. This is one of the most notable things set out to our observation in the book of Job: it was not the smallest part of his affliction, that when the hand of God was heavy upon him, and then if ever was the time for his friends to have been his comforters, and friends indeed, on the contrary they became his scourge, and by unjust accusations, and misinterpretations of the providence of God, did greatly add to his affliction! When God had taken away his children, wealth and health, his friends would take away the reputation and comfort of his integrity; and under pretence of bringing him to repentance, did charge him with that which he was never guilty of: they wounded his good name, and would have wounded his conscience, and deprived him of his inward peace: censorious, false accusing friends, do cut deeper than malicious, slandering enemies. It is no wonder, if strangers or enemies do misjudge and misreport our actions: but when your bosom friends, that should most intimately know you, and be the chief witnesses of your innocency against all others, shall in their jealousy, or envy, or peevishness, or falling out,

be your chief reproaches and unjust accusers, as it makes it seem more credible to others, so it will come nearer to yourselves. And yet this is a thing that must be expected; yea, even your most self-denying acts of obedience to God, may be so misunderstood by godly men, and real friends, as by them to be taken for your great miscarriage, and turned to your rebuke: as David's dancing before the ark was by his wife; which yet did but make him resolve to be yet more vile. If you be cast into poverty, or disgrace, or prison, or banishment, for your necessary obedience to Christ, perhaps your friend or wife may become your accuser for this your greatest service, and say, This is your own doing: your rashness, or indiscretion, or self-conceitedness, or wilfulness hath brought it upon you. What need had you to say such words, or to do this or that? Why could not you have yielded in so small a matter? Perhaps your most costly and excellent obedience shall, by your nearest friends, be called the fruits of pride, or humour, or passion, or some corrupt affection, or at least of folly or inconsiderateness. When flesh and blood hath long been striving in you against your duty, and saying, Do not cast away thyself: O serve not God at so dear a rate! God doth not require thee to undo thyself; why shouldest thou not avoid so great inconveniences? When with much ado you have conquered all your carnal reasonings, and denied yourselves and your carnal interests, you must expect, even from some religious friends, to be accused for these very actions, and perhaps their accusations may fasten such a blot upon your names, as shall never be washed out till the day of judgment. By difference of interests, or apprehensions, and by unacquaintedness with your hearts, and actions, the righteousness of the righteous may be thus taken from him, and friends may do the work of enemies, yea, of Satan himself, the accuser of the brethren; and may prove as thorns in

your bed, and gravel in your shoes, yea, in your eyes, and wrong you much more than open adversaries could have done. How it is like to go with that man's reputation, you may easily judge, whose friends are like Job's, and his enemies like David's, that lay snares before him, and diligently watch for matter of reproach; yet this may befall the best of men.

13. You may be permitted by God to fall into some real crime, and then your friends may possibly think it is their duty to disown you, so far as you have wronged God: when you provoke God to frown upon you, he may cause your friends to frown upon you: if you will fall out with him, and grow strange to him, no marvel if your truest friends fall out with you, and grow strange to you. They love you for your godliness, and for the sake of Christ; and therefore must abate their love, if you abate your godliness; and must, for the sake of Christ, be displeased with you for your sins. And if in such a case of real guilt, you should be displeased at their displeasure, and should expect that your friend should befriend your sin, or carry himself towards you in your guilt, as if you were innocent, you will but show that you understand not the nature of true friendship, nor the use of a true friend; and are yet yourselves too friendly to your sins.

14. Moreover, those few friends that are truest to you, may be utterly unable to relieve you in your distress, or to give you ease, or to do you any good. The case may be such that they can but pity you, and lament your sorrows, and weep over you: you may see in them that man is not as God, whose friendship can accomplish all the good that he desireth to his friends. The wisest, and greatest, and best of men, are silly comforters, and uneffectual helps. You may be sick, and pained, and grieved, and distressed, notwithstanding any thing that they can do for you; nay, perhaps in their ignorance, they may increase your

misery, while they desire your relief; and by striving indirectly to help and ease you, may tie the knot faster and make you worse. They may provoke those more against you that oppress you, while they think they speak that which should tend to set you free: they may think to ease your troubled minds by such words as shall increase the troubled; or to deliver you as Peter would have delivered Christ, and saved his

Saviour, first by carnal counsel; "Be it far from thee, Lord; this shall not be unto thee:" (Matt. 16:22:) And then by carnal unjust force, (by drawing his sword against the officers). Love and good meaning will not prevent the mischiefs of ignorance and mistake. If your friend cut your throat, while he thought to cut but a vein to cure your disease, it is not his friendly meaning that will save your lives. Many a thousand sick people are killed by their friends, that attend them, with an earnest desire of their life; while they ignorantly give them that which is contrary to their disease, and will not be the less pernicious for the good meaning of the giver. Who have more tender affections than mothers to their children? And yet a great part of the calamity of the world of sickness, and the misery of man's life, proceedeth from the ignorant and erroneous indulgence of mothers to their children, who to please them, let them eat and drink what they will, and use them to excess and gluttony in their childhood, till nature be abused and mastered, and clogged with those superfluities and crudities, which are the dunghill matter of most of the following diseases of their lives.

I might here also remember you how your friends may themselves be overcome with a temptation, and then become the more dangerous tempters of you, by how much the greater their interest is in your affections. If they be infected with error, they are the likest persons to ensnare you: if they be tainted with covetousness or pride, there is

none so likely to draw you to the same sin: and so your friends may be in effect your most deadly enemies, deceivers and destroyers.

15. And if you have friends that are never so firm and constant, they may prove (not only unable to relieve you, but) very additions to your grief. If they are afflicted in the participation of your sufferings, as your troubles are become theirs (without your ease), so their trouble for you will become yours, and so the stock of your sorrow will be increased. And they are mortals, and liable to distress as well as you.

And therefore they are like to bear their share in several sorts of sufferings: and so friendship will make their sufferings to be yours: their sicknesses and pains, their fears and griefs, their wants and dangers, will all be yours. And the more they are your hearty friends, the more they will be yours. And so you will have as many additions to the proper burden of your griefs, as you have suffering friends: when you do but hear that they are dead, you say as Thomas, "Let us also go that we may die with him." (John 11:16.) And having many such friends you will almost always have one or other of them in distress; and so be seldom free from sorrow; besides all that which is properly your own.

16. Lastly, If you have a friend that is both true and useful, yet you may be sure he must stay with you but a little while. "The godly men will cease, and the faithful fail from among the children of men; while men of lying, flattering lips, and double hearts survive, and the wicked walk on every side, while the vilest men are exalted." (Psal. 12:1, 2,

8.) While swarms of false, malicious men are left round about you, perhaps God will take away your dearest friends. If among a multitude of unfaithful ones, you have but one that is your friend indeed, perhaps God will take away that one. He may be separated from you into another country; or taken away to God by death. Not that God

doth grudge you the mercy of a faithful friend; but that he would be your All, and would not have you hurt yourselves with too much affection to any creature, and for other reasons to be named anon.

And to be forsaken of your friends is not all your affliction: but to be forsaken is a great aggravation of it. 1. For they used to forsake us in our greatest sufferings and straits, when we have the greatest need of them.

2. They fail us most at a dying hour, when all other worldly comfort faileth: as we must leave our houses, lands and wealth, so must we for the present leave our friends: and as all the rest are silly comforters, when we have once received our citation to appear before the Lord, so also are our friends but silly comforters: they can weep over us, but they cannot, with all their care, delay the separating stroke of death, one day or hour.

Only by their prayers, and holy advice, remembering us of everlasting things, and provoking us in the work of preparation, they may prove to us friends indeed. And therefore we must value a holy, heavenly, faithful friend, as one of the greatest treasures upon earth. And while we take notice how, as men, they may forsake us, we must not deny but that, as saints, they are precious, and of singular use to us; and Christ useth by them to communicate his mercies; and if any creatures in the world may be blessings to us, it is holy persons, that have most of God in their hearts and lives.

3. And it is an aggravation of the cross, that they often fail us, when we are most faithful in our duty, and stumble most upon the most excellent acts of our obedience.

4. And those are the persons that oftentimes fail us, of whom we have deserved best, and from whom we might have expected most.

Review the experiences of the choicest servants that Christ hath had in the world, and you shall find enough to confirm you of the vanity of man, and the instability of the dearest friends. How highly was

Athanasius esteemed; and yet at last deserted and banished by the famous Constantine himself! How excellent a man was Gregory

Nazianzen, and highly valued in the church; and yet by reproach and discouragements driven away from his church at Constantinople whither he was chosen, and envied by the bishops round about him.

How worthy a man was the eloquent Chrysostom, and highly valued in the church; and yet how bitterly was he prosecuted by Hierom and Epiphanius; and banished, and died in a second banishment, by the provocation of factious, contentious bishops, and an empress impatient of his plain reproofs! What person more generally esteemed and honoured for learning, piety, and peaceableness, than

Melancthon; and yet by the contentions of Illyricus and his party, he was made aweary of his life. As highly as Calvin was (deservedly) valued at Geneva, yet once in a popular lunacy and displeasure, they drove him out of their city, and in contempt of him some called their dogs by the name of Calvin; (though after they were glad to entreat him to return.) How much our Grindal and Abbot were esteemed, it appeareth by their advancement to the archbishopric of Canterbury; and yet who knoweth not that their eminent piety sufficed not to keep them from dejecting frowns! And if you say, that it is no wonder if with princes through interest, and with people through levity, it be thus; I might heap up instances of the like untrustiness of particular friends; but all history, and the experiences of the most, do so much abound with them, that I think it needless. Which of us must not say

with David, that "All men are liars;" (Psal. 116;) that is, deceitful and untrusty; either through unfaithfulness, weakness or insufficiency; that either will forsake us, or cannot help us in time of need.

Was Christ forsaken in his extremity by his own disciples, to teach us what to expect, or bear? Think it not strange then to be conformed to your Lord, in this, as well as in other parts of his humiliation. Expect that men should prove deceitful: Not that you should entertain censorious suspicions of your particular friends: but remember in general that man is frail, and the best too selfish and uncertain; and that it is no wonder if those should prove your greatest grief, from whom you had the highest expectations. Are you better than Job, or David, or Christ? and are your friends more firm and unchangeable than theirs?

Consider, 1. That creatures must be set at a sufficient distance from their Creator. Allsufficiency, immutability and indefectible fidelity, are proper to Jehovah. As it is no wonder for the sun to set, or be eclipsed, as glorious a body as it is, so it is no wonder for a friend, a pious friend, to fail us, for a time, in the hour of our distress. There are some that will not: but there is none but may, if God should leave them to their weakness. Man is not your rock: he hath no stability but what is derived, dependant, and uncertain, and defectible. Learn therefore to rest on God alone, and lean not too hard or confidently upon any mortal wight.

2. And God will have the common infirmity of man to be known, that so the weakest may not be utterly discouraged, nor take their weakness to be gracelessness, whilst they see that the strongest also

have their infirmities, though not so great as theirs. If any of God's servants live in constant holiness and fidelity, without any shakings or stumbling in their way, it would tempt some self-accusing, troubled souls, to think that they were altogether graceless, because they are so far short of others. But when we read of a Peter's denying his master in so horrid a manner, with swearing and cursing, that he knew not the man, (Matt. 26:74,) and of his dissimulation and not walking uprightly; (Gal. 2;) and of a David's unfriendly and unrighteous dealing with Mephibosheth, the seed of Jonathan; and of his most vile and treacherous dealing with Uriah, a faithful and deserving subject; it may both abate our wonder and offence at the unfaithfulness of our friends, and teach us to compassionate their frailty, when they desert us; and also somewhat abate our immoderate dejectedness and trouble, when we have failed God or man ourselves.

3. Moreover, consider, how the odiousness of that sin, which is the root and cause of such unfaithfulness, is greatly manifested by the failing of our friends. God will have the odiousness of the remnants of our self-love and carnal-mindedness, and cowardice appear: we should not discern it in the seed and root, if we did not see, and taste it in the fruits. Seeing without tasting will not sufficiently convince us. A crab looks as beautiful as an apple; but when you taste it, you better know the difference. When you must yourselves be unkindly used by your friends, and forsaken by them in your distress, and you have tasted the fruits of the remnants of their worldliness, selfishness and carnal fears, you will better know the odiousness of these vices, which thus break forth against all obligations to God and you, and notwithstanding the light, the conscience, and perhaps the grace, that doth resist them.

4. Are you not prone to overvalue and overlove your friends? If so, is not this the meetest remedy for your disease? In the loving of God, we are in no danger of excess; and therefore have no need, of anything to quench it. And in the loving of the godly, purely upon account of Christ, and in loving saints as saints, we are not apt to go too far. But yet our understandings may mistake, and we may think that saints have more of sanctity than indeed they have; and we are exceeding apt to mix a selfish common love, with that which is spiritual and holy; and at the same time, when we love a Christian as a Christian, we are apt not only to love him (as we ought) but to overlove him because he is our friend, and loveth us. Those Christians that have no special love to us, we are apt to undervalue and neglect, and love them below their holiness and worth: but those that we think entirely love us, we love above their proper worth, as they stand in the esteem of God: not but that we may love those that love us, and add this love to that which is purely for the sake of Christ; but we should not let our own interest prevail and overtop the interest of Christ, nor love any so much for loving us, as for loving Christ: and if we do so, no wonder if God shall use such remedies as he seeth meet, to abate our excess of selfish love.

O how highly are we apt to think of all that good which is found in those who are the highest esteemers of us, and most dearly love us; when perhaps in itself it is but some ordinary good, or ordinary degree of goodness which is in them! Their love to us irresistibly procureth our love to them: and when we love them, it is wonderful to observe, how easily we are brought to think well of almost all they do, and highly to value their judgments, graces, parts and works: when greater excellencies in another, perhaps, are scarce observed, or regarded but as a common thing. And therefore the destruction or want of love, is

apparent in the vilifying thoughts and speeches, that most men have of one another; and in the low esteem of the judgments, and performances and lives of other men: (much more in their contempt, reproaches and cruel persecutions.) Now though God will have us increase in our love of Christ in his members, and in our pure love of Christians, as such, and in our common charity to all, yea, and in our just fidelity to our friend; yet would he have us suspect and moderate our selfish and excessive love, and inordinate partial esteem of one above another, when it is but for ourselves and on our own account.

And therefore as he will make us know, that we ourselves are no such excellent persons, as that it should make another so laudable, or advance his worth, because he loveth us; so he will make us know, that our friends, whom we overvalue, are but like other men: if we exalt them too highly in our esteem, it is a sign that God must cast them down. And as their love to us, was it that made us so exalt them; so their unkindness or unfaithfulness to us is the fittest means to bring them lower in our estimation and affection. God is very jealous of our hearts, as to our overvaluing and overloving any of his creatures:

What we give inordinately and excessively to them, is some way or other taken from him, and given them to his injury, and therefore to his offence. Though I know that to be void of natural, friendly or social affections, is an odious extreme on the other side; yet God will rebuke us if we are guilty of excess. And it is the greater and more inexcusable fault to overlove the creature, because our love to God is so cold, and so hardly kindled and kept alive! He cannot take it well to see us dote upon dust and frailty like ourselves, at the same time when all his wondrous kindness, and attractive goodness, do cause but such a faint and languid love to him, which we ourselves can scarcely feel. If therefore he cure us by permitting our friends to shew

us truly what they are, and how little they deserve such excessive love (when God hath so little) it is no more wonder, than it is that he is tender of his glory, and merciful to his servants' souls.

5. By the failing and unfaithfulness of our friends, the wonderful patience of God will be observed and honoured, as it is shewed both to them and us. When they forsake us in our distress (especially when we suffer for the cause of Christ) it is God that they injure more than us: and therefore if he bear with them, and forgive their weakness upon repentance, why should not we do so, that are much less injured?

The world's perfidiousness should make us think, how great and wonderful is the patience of God, that beareth with, and beareth up so vile, ungrateful, treacherous men that abuse him to whom they are infinitely obliged! And it should make us consider, when men deal treacherously with us, how great is that mercy that hath borne with, and pardoned greater wrongs, which I myself have done to God, than these can be which men have done to me! It was the remembrance of David's sin, that had provoked God to raise up his own son against him (of whom he had been too fond), which made him so easily bear the curses and reproach of Shimei. It will make us bear abuse from others, to remember how ill we have dealt with God, and how ill we have deserved at his hands ourselves.

6. And I have observed another reason of God's permitting the failing of our friends. It is, that the love of our friends may not hinder us when we are called to suffer or die. When we overlove them, it teareth our very hearts to leave them: and therefore it is a strong temptation to draw us from our duty, and to be unfaithful to the cause of Christ, lest we should be taken from our too dear friends, or lest our suffering cause their too much grief. It is so hard a thing to die with willingness and peace, that it must needs be a mercy to be saved from the

impediments which make us backward: And the excessive love of friends and relations, is not the least of these impediments: O how loath is many a one to die, when they think of parting with wife, or husband, or children, or dear and faithful friends! Now I have oft observed, that a little before their death or sickness, it is ordinary with God to permit some unkindness between such too dear friends to arise, by which he moderated and abated their affections, and made them a great deal the more willing to die. Then we are ready to say, It is time for me to leave the world, when not only the rest of the world but my dearest friends have first forsaken me! This helpeth us to remember our dearest everlasting Friend, and to be grieved at the heart that we have been no truer ourselves to him, who would not have forsaken us in our extremity. And sometimes it maketh us even aweary of the world, and to say as Elias, "Lord take away my life,"

&c., (1 Kings 19:4, 10, 14,) when we must say, 'I thought I had one friend left, and behold even he forsaketh me in my distress.' As the love of friends entangleth our affections to this world, so to be weaned, by their unkindnesses, from our friends, is a great help to loosen us from the world, and proveth oft a very great mercy to a soul that is ready to depart.

And as the friends that love us most, and have most interest in our esteem and love, may do more than others, in tempting us to be unfaithful to our Lord, to entertain any error, to commit any sin, or to flinch in suffering; so when God hath permitted them to forsake us, and to lose their too great interest in us, we are fortified against all such temptations from them. I have known where a former intimate friend hath grown strange, and broken former friendship, and quickly after turned to such dangerous ways and errors, as convinced the other of the mercifulness of God, in weakening his temptation by his

friend's desertion; who might else have drawn him along with him into sin. And I have often observed, that when the husbands have turned from religion to infidelity, familism, or some dangerous heresy, that God hath permitted them to hate and abuse their wives so inhumanly, as that it preserved the poor women from the temptation of following them in their apostacy or sin: when as some other women with whom their husbands have dealt more kindly, have been drawn away with them into pernicious paths.

Therefore still I must say, we were undone if we had the disposing of our own conditions. It would be long before we should have been willing ourselves to be thus unkindly dealt with by our friends; and yet God hath made it to many a soul, a notable means of preserving them from being undone for ever. Yea, the unfaithfulness of all our friends, and the malice and cruelty of all our enemies, doth us not usually so much harm, as the love and temptation of some one deluded erring friend, whom we are ready to follow into the gulf.

7. Lastly, consider that it is not desirable or suitable to our state, to have too much of our comfort by any creature: not only because it is most pure and sweet, which is most immediately from God; but because also we are very prone to over-love the creature; and if it should but seem to be very commodious to us, by serving our necessities or desires, it would seem the more amiable, and therefore be the stronger snare. The work of mortification doth much consist in the annihilation or deadness of all the creatures, as to any power to draw away our hearts from God, or to entangle us and detain us from our duty. And the more excellent and lovely the creature appeareth to us, the less it is dead to us, or we to it; and the more will it be able to hinder or ensnare us.

When you have well considered all these things, I suppose you will admire the wisdom of God in leaving you under this kind of trial, and weaning you from every creature, and teaching you by his providence, as well as by his word, to cease from man whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein is he to be accounted of? And you will see that it is no great wonder that corrupted souls, that live in other sins, should be guilty of this unfaithfulness to their friends: and that he that dare unthankfully trample upon the unspeakable kindness of the Lord, should deal unkindly with the best of men. You make no great wonder at other kind of sins, when you see the world continually commit them; why then should you make a greater or stranger matter of this, than of the rest? Are you better than God? Must unfaithfulness to you be made more heinous, than that unfaithfulness to him, which yet you daily see and slight? The least wrong to God is a thousandfold more than the greatest that can be done to you, as such. Have you done that for your nearest friend, which God hath done for him, and you, and all men? Their obligations to you are nothing in comparison of their great and manifold obligations to God.

And you know that you have more wronged God yourselves, than any man ever wronged you; and if yet for all that, he bear with you, have you not great reason to bear with others?

Yea, you have not been innocent towards men yourselves. Did you never wrong or fail another? Or rather, are you not more apt to see and aggravate the wrong that others do to you, than that which you have done to others? May you not call to mind your own neglects, and say as Adonibezek, "Threescore and ten kings having their thumbs and their great toes cut off, gathered their meat under my table: As I have done so God hath requited me." (Judges 1:7.) Many a one have

I failed or wronged, and no wonder if others fail and wrong me.

Nay, you have been much more unfaithful and injurious to yourselves, than ever any other hath been to you. No friend was so near you, as yourselves; none had such a charge of you; none had such helps and advantages to do you good or hurt; and yet all the enemies you have in the world, even in earth or hell, have not wronged and hurt you half so much as you have done yourselves! O, methinks the man or woman that knoweth themselves, and knoweth what it is to repent; that ever saw the greatness of their own sin and folly, should have no great mind or leisure to aggravate the failing of their friends, or the injuries of their enemies, considering what they have proved to themselves!

Have I forfeited my own salvation, and deserved everlasting wrath, and sold my Saviour and my soul for so base a thing as sinful pleasure, and shall I ever make a wonder of it, that another man doth me some temporal hurt? Was any friend so near to me as myself; or more obliged to me? O sinful soul, let thy own, rather than thy friend's deceit and treachery, and neglects, be the matter of thy displeasure, wonder and complaints!

And let thy conformity herein to Jesus Christ, be thy holy ambition and delight: not as it is thy suffering, nor as it is caused by men's sin; but as it is thy conformity and fellowship in the sufferings of thy Lord, and caused by his love.

I have already shewed you that sufferers for Christ, are in the highest form among his disciples. The order of his followers usually is this:

1. At our entrance, and in the lowest form, we are exercised with the fears of hell, and God's displeasure, and in the works of repentance for the sin that we have done. 2. In the second form, we come to think more seriously of the remedy, and to inquire what we shall do to be

saved, and to understand better what Christ hath done and suffered, and what he is and will be to us; and to value him, and his love and grace. And here we are much inquiring how we may know our own sincerity, and our interest in Christ, and are labouring for some assurance, and looking after signs of grace. 3. In the next form or order we are searching after further knowledge, and labouring better to understand the mysteries of religion, and to get above the rudiments and first principles: and here if we escape turning bare opinionists or heretics, by the snare of controversy or curiosity, it is well. 4. In the next form we set ourselves to the fuller improvement of all our further degrees of knowledge; and to digest it all, and turn it into stronger faith, and love, and hope, and greater humility, patience, self-denial, mortification, and contempt of earthly vanities, and hatred of sin; and to walk more watchfully and holily, and to be more in holy duty. 5. In the next form we grow to be more public-spirited: to set our hearts on the church's welfare, and long more for the progress of the Gospel, and for the good of others; and to do all the good in the world that we are able, for men's souls or bodies, but especially to long and lay out ourselves for the conversion and salvation of ignorant, secure, unconverted souls. The counterfeit of this, is, an eager desire to proselyte others to our opinions, or that religion which we have chosen, by the direction of flesh and blood, or which is not of God, nor according unto godliness, but doth subserve our carnal ends. 6. In the next form we grow to study more the pure and wonderful love of God in Christ, and to relish and admire that love, and to be taken up with the goodness and tender mercies of the Lord, and to be kindling the flames of holy love to him that hath thus loved us; and to keep our souls in the exercise of that love: and withal to live in joy, and thanks, and praise to him that hath redeemed us and loved us; and also by

faith to converse in heaven, and to live in holy contemplation, beholding the glory of the Father and the Redeemer in the glass which is fitted to our present use, till we come to see him face to face. Those that are the highest in this form, do so walk with God, and burn in love, and are so much above inferior vanities, and are so conversant by faith in heaven, that their hearts even dwell there, and there they long to be for ever. 7. And in the highest form of the school of Christ, we are exercising this confirmed faith and love, in sufferings, especially for Christ; in following him with our cross, and being conformed to him, and glorifying God in the fullest exercise and discovery of his graces in us, and in an actual trampling upon all that standeth up against him, for our hearts: and in bearing the fullest witness to his truth and cause, by constant enduring, though to the death. Not but that the weakest that are sincere, must suffer for Christ if he call them to it: martyrdom itself is not proper to the strong believers. Whoever forsaketh not all that he hath for Christ, cannot be his disciple. (Luke 14:33.) But to suffer with that faith and love forementioned, and in that manner, is proper to the strong: and usually

God doth not try and exercise his young and weak ones with the trials of the strong; nor set his infants on so hard a service, nor put them in the front or hottest of the battle, as he doth the ripe confirmed

Christians. The sufferings of their inward doubts and fears doth take up such: it is the strong that ordinarily are called to sufferings for Christ, at least in any high degree. I have digressed thus far to make it plain to you, that our conformity to Christ, and fellowship with him in his sufferings, in any notable degree, is the lot of his best, confirmed servants, and the highest form in his school among his disciples; and therefore not to be inordinately feared or abhorred, nor to be the matter of impatience, but of holy joy; and in such infirmities

we may glory. And if it be so of sufferings in the general (for Christ), then is it so of this particular sort of sufferings, even to be forsaken of all our best and nearest, dearest friends, when we come to be most abused by the enemies.

For my own part, I must confess that as I am much wanting in other parts of my conformity to Christ, so I take myself to be yet much short of what I expect he should advance me to, as long as my friends no more forsake me. It is not long since I found myself in a low (if not a doubting) case, because I had so few enemies, and so little sufferings for the cause of Christ (though I had much of other sorts): and now that doubt is removed by the multitude of furies which God hath let loose against me. But yet, methinks, while my friends themselves are so friendly to me, I am much short of what I think I must at last attain to.

But let us look further into the text, and see what is the cause of the failing and forsaking Christ in the disciples; and what it is that they betake themselves to, when they leave him.

"Ye shall be scattered every man to his own."

Self-denial was not perfect in them, selfishness therefore in this hour of temptation did prevail. They had before forsaken all to follow

Christ; they had left their parents, their families, their estates, their trades, to be his disciples: but though they believed him to be the Christ, yet they dreamt of a visible kingdom, and did all this with too carnal expectations of being great men on earth, when Christ should begin his reign; and therefore when they saw his apprehension and

ignominious suffering, and thought now they were frustrate of their hopes, they seem to repent that they had followed him (though not by apostacy and an habitual or plenary change of mind, yet) by a sudden passionate frightful apprehension, which vanished when grace performed its part. They now began to think that they had lives of their own to save, and families of their own to mind, and business of their own to do. They had before forsaken their private interests and affairs, and gathered themselves to Jesus Christ, and lived in communion with him, and one another: but now they return to their trades and callings, and are scattered every man to his own.

Selfishness is the great enemy of all societies, of all fidelity and friendship: there is no trusting that person in whom it is predominant: and the remnants of it, where it doth not reign, do make men walk unevenly and unsteadfastly towards God and men. They will certainly deny both God and their friends, in a time of trial, who are not able to deny themselves: or rather he never was a real friend to any, that is predominantly selfish. They have always some interest of their own, which their friend must needs contradict, or is insufficient to satisfy.

Their houses, their lands, their monies, their children, their honour, or something which they call their own, will be frequently the matter of contention; and are so near them, that they can for the sake of these, cast off the nearest friend. Contract no special friendship with a selfish man; nor put any confidence in him, whatever friendship he may profess. He is so confined to himself, that he hath no true love to spare for others: if he seem to love a friend it is not as a friend, but as a servant, or at best as a benefactor. He loveth you for himself, as he loveth his money, or horse, or house, because you may be serviceable

to him: or as a horse or dog doth love his keeper, for feeding him: and therefore when your provender is gone, his love is gone; when you have done feeding him, he hath done loving you; when you have no more for him, he hath no more for you.

Object. 'But (some will say) it is not the falseness of my friend that I lament, but the separation, or the loss of one that was most faithful: I have found the deceitfulness of ordinary friends; and therefore the more highly prize those few that are sincere. I had but one true friend among abundance of self-seekers; and that one is dead, or taken from me, and I am left as in a wilderness, having no mortal man that I can trust, or take much comfort in.'

Answ. Is this your case? I pray you answer these few questions, and suffer the truth to have its proper work upon your mind.

Quest. 1. Who was it that deprived you of your friend? Was it not God? Did not he that gave him you, take him from you? Was it not his Lord and Owner that called him home? And can God do any thing injuriously or amiss? Will you not give him leave to do as he list with his own? Dare you think that there was wanting either wisdom, or goodness, justice or mercy, in God's disposal of your friend? Or will you ever have rest, if you cannot have rest in the will of God?

2. How know you what sin your friend might have fallen into, if he had lived as long as you would have him? You will say, that God could have preserved him from sin. It is true; but God preserveth sapientially, by means, as well as omnipotentially: and sometimes he seeth that the temptations to that person are like to be so strong, and

his corruption like to get such advantage, that no means is so fit as death itself, for his preservation. And if God had permitted your friend by temptation to have fallen into some scandalous sin, or course of evil, or into errors or false ways, would it not have been much worse than death to him and you? God might have suffered your friend, that was so faithful, to have been sifted and shaken, as Peter was, and to have denied his Lord; and to have seemed in your own eyes as odious as he before seemed amiable.

3. How know you what unkindness to yourself your dearest friend might have been guilty of? Alas! there is greater frailty and inconstancy in man, than you are aware of. And there are sadder roots of corruption unmortified, that may spring up into bitter fruits, than most of us ever discover in ourselves. Many a mother hath her heart broken by the unnaturalness of such a child, or the unkindness of such a husband, as if they had died before, would have been lamented by her, with great impatience and excess. How confident soever you may be of the future fidelity of your friend, you little know what trials might have discovered. Many a one hath failed God and man, that once were as confident of themselves, as ever you were of your friend.

And which of us see not reason to be distrustful of ourselves? And can we know another better than ourselves? or promise more concerning him?

4. How know you what great calamity might have befallen your friend, if he had lived as long as you desired? When the righteous seem to men to perish, and "merciful men are taken away," it is "from the evil to come" that they are taken. (Isa. 57:1.) How many of my friends have I lamented as if they had died unseasonably, concerning whom some following providence quickly shewed me, that it would have been a grievous misery to them to have lived longer! Little know

you what calamities were imminent on his person, his family, kindred, neighbours, country, that would have broke his heart. What if a friend of yours had died immediately before some calamitous subversion of a kingdom, some ruins of the church, &c. and if, ignorantly, he had done that which brought these things to pass, can you imagine how lamentably sad his life would have been to him, to have seen the church, the Gospel, and his country, in so sad a case? especially if it had been long of him? Many that have unawares done that which hath ruined a particular friend, have lived in so much grief and trouble, as made them consent that death should both revenge the injured on them, and conclude their misery. What then would it have been to have seen the public good subverted, and the faithful overwhelmed in misery, and the Gospel hindered, and holy worship changed for deceit and vanity; and for conscience to have been daily saying, 'I had a hand in all this misery; I kindled the fire that hath burned up all!'

What comfort can you think such friends, if they had survived, would have found on earth? unless it were a comfort to hear the complaints of the afflicted, to see and hear such odious sins as sometimes vexed righteous Lot to see and hear; or to hear of the scandals of one friend, and the apostacy of another, and the sinful compliances and declinings of a third; and to be under temptations, reproaches and afflictions themselves? Is it a matter to be so much lamented, that God hath prevented their greater miseries and woe?

5. What was the world to your friends while they did enjoy it? or what is it now, or like to be hereafter to yourselves? Was it so good and kind to them, as that you should lament their separation from it? Was it not to them a place of toil and trouble, of envy and vexation, of enmity and poison? of successive cares, and fears, and griefs? and worst of all, a place of sin? Did they groan under the burden of a sinful

nature, a distempered, tempted, troubled heart, of languishings and weakness of every grace; of the rebukes of God, the wounds of conscience, and the malice of a wicked world? And would you have them under these again? or is their deliverance become your grief?

Did you not often join in prayer with them, for deliverance from malice, calamities, troubles, imperfections, temptations and sin? and now those prayers are answered in their deliverance; and do you now grieve at that which then you prayed for?

Doth the world use yourselves so well and kindly, as that you should be sorry that your friends partake not of the feast? Are you not groaning from day to day yourselves? and are you grieved that your friends are taken from your griefs? You are not well pleased with your own condition: when you look into your hearts, you are displeased and complain: when you look into your lives, you are displeased and complain; when you look into your families, into your neighbourhoods, unto your friends, unto the church, unto the kingdom, unto the world, you are displeased and complain. And are you also displeased that your friends are not under the same displeasure and complaints as you? Is the world a place of rest or trouble to you? And would you have your friends to be as far from rest as you?

And if you have some ease and peace at present, you little know what storms are near! you may see the days, you may hear the tidings, you may feel the griping griefs and pains, which may make you call for death yourselves, and make you say, That a life on earth is no felicity, and make you confess that they are "Blessed that are dead in the Lord, as resting from their labours," and being past these troubles, griefs and fears. Many a poor troubled soul is in so great distress, as that they take away their own lives to have some taste of hell; and yet, at

the same time, are grieving because their friends are taken from them, who would have been grieved for their griefs, and for ought they know might have fallen into as sad a state as they themselves are now lamenting.

6. Do you think it is for the hurt or the good of your friend that he is removed hence? It cannot be for his hurt, unless he be in hell. (At least, it is uncertain whether to live would have been for his good, by an increase of grace, and so for greater glory.) And if he be in hell, he was no fit person for you to take much pleasure in upon earth: he might be indeed a fit object for your compassion, but not for your complacency. Sure you are not undone for want of such company as God will not endure in his sight, and you must be separated from for ever. But if they be in heaven, you are scarce their friend if you would wish them thence. Friendship hath as great respect to the good of our friends as of ourselves. And do you pretend to friendship, and yet lament the removal of your friend to his greatest happiness! Do you set more by your own enjoying his company, than by his enjoying

God in perfect blessedness? This sheweth a very culpable defect either in faith or friendship; and therefore beseemeth not Christians and friends. If love teacheth us to mourn with them that mourn, and to rejoice with them that rejoice; can it be an act of rational love to mourn for them that are possessed of the highest everlasting joys?

7. God will not honour himself by one only, but by many: he knoweth best when his work is done: when our friends have finished all God intended them for, when he put them into the world, is it not time for them to be gone, and for others to take their places, and finish their work also in their time? God will have a succession of his servants in the world. Would you not come down, and give place to him that is to follow you, when your part is played, and his is to begin? If David

had not died, there had been no Solomon, no Jehoshaphat, no Hezekiah, no Josiah, to succeed him and honour God in the same throne. You may as wisely grudge that one day only takes not up all the week, and that the clock striketh not the same hour still, but proceedeth from one to two, from two to three, &c. as to murmur that one man only continueth not, to do the work of his place, excluding his successors.

8. You must not have all your mercies by one messenger or hand: God will not have you confine your love to one only of his servants; and therefore he will not make one only useful to you; but when one hath delivered his message and done his part, perhaps God will send you other mercies by another hand; and it belongeth to him to choose the messenger, who gives the gift. And if you will childishly dote upon the first messenger, and say you will have all the rest of your mercies by his hand, or you will have no more, your frowardness more deserveth correction than compassion: and if you be kept fasting till you can thankfully take your food, from any hand that your Father sends it by, it is a correction very suitable to your sin.

9. Do you so highly value your friends for God, or for them, or for yourselves, in the final consideration? If it was for God, what reason of trouble have you, that God hath disposed of them, according to his wisdom and unerring will? Should you not then be more pleased that God hath them, and employeth them in his highest service, than displeased that you want them?

But if you value them and love them for themselves, they are now more lovely when they are more perfect; and they are now fitter for your content and joy, than they could be in their sin and sorrows.

But if you valued and loved them but for yourselves only, it is just with God to take them from you, to teach you to value men to righter ends, and upon better considerations; and both to prefer God before yourselves, and better to understand the nature of true friendship, and better to know that your own felicity is not in the hands of any creature, but of God alone.

10. Did you improve your friends while you had them? or did you only love them, while you made but little use of them for your souls?

If you used them not, it was just with God, for all your love, to take them from you. They were given you as your candle, not only to love it, but to work by the light of it; and as your garments, not only to love them, but to wear them; and as your meat, not only to love it, but to feed upon it. Did you receive their counsel, and harken to their reproofs, and pray with them, and confer with them upon those holy truths that tended to elevate your minds to God, and to inflame your breasts with sacred love? If not, be it now known to you, that God gave you not such helps and mercies only to talk of, or to look upon and love, but also to improve for the benefit of your souls.

11. Do you not seem to forget where you are yourselves, and where you must shortly and for ever live? Where would you have your friends, but where you must be yourselves? Do you mourn that they are taken hence? Why, if they had staid here a thousand years, how little of that time should you have had their company? When you are almost leaving the world yourselves, would you not send your treasure before you to the place where you must abide? How quickly will you pass from hence to God, where you shall find your friends that you lamented as if they had been lost, and there shall dwell with them for ever! O foolish mourners! would you not have your friends at home? at their home and your home, with their Father and your

Father, their God and your God? Shall you not there enjoy them long enough? Can you so much miss them for one day, that must live with them to all eternity? and is not eternity long enough to enjoy your friends in?

Object. 'But I do not know whether ever I shall there have any distinct knowledge of them, or love to them, and whether God shall not there be so far All in All, as that we shall need or fetch no comfort from the creature.'

Answ. There is no reason for either of these doubts: For, 1. You cannot justly think that the knowledge of the glorified shall be more confused or imperfect than the knowledge of natural men on earth. We shall know much more, but not so much less. Heaven exceedeth the earth in knowledge, as much as it doth in joy.

2. The angels in heaven have now a distinct, particular knowledge of the least believers, rejoicing particularly in their conversion, and being called by Christ himself "Their Angels." Therefore when we shall be equal to the angels, we shall certainly know our nearest friends that there dwell with us, and are employed in the same attendance.

3. Abraham knew the rich man in hell, and the rich man knew Abraham and Lazarus: therefore we shall have as distinct a knowledge.

4. The two disciples knew Moses and Elias in the mount, whom they had never seen before; though it is possible Christ told them who they were, yet there is no such thing expressed; and therefore it is as

probable that they knew them by the communication of their irradiating glory: much more shall we be then illuminated to a clearer knowledge.

5. It is said expressly, 1 Cor. 13:10–12, that our present knowledge shall be done away only in regard of its imperfection; and not of itself, which shall be perfected: "when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away:" as we put away childish thoughts and speeches, when we become men: the change will be from "seeing in a glass" to "seeing face to face," and from "knowing in part" to "knowing even as we are known."

2. And that we shall both know, and love, and rejoice in creatures, even in heaven, notwithstanding that God is all in all, appeareth further thus:

1. Christ, in his glorified humanity, is a creature; and yet there is no doubt but all his members will there know and love him in his glorified humanity, without any derogation from the glory of his

Deity.

2. The body of Christ will continue its union, and every member will be so nearly related, even in heaven, that they cannot choose but know and love each other. Shall we be ignorant of the members of our body? and not be concerned in their felicity with whom we are so nearly one?

3. The state and felicity of the church hereafter, is frequently described in Scripture, as consisting in society. It is a kingdom, the

city of God, the heavenly Jerusalem; and it is mentioned as part of our happiness to be of that society. (Heb. 12:22–24, &c.)

4. The saints are called kings themselves; and it is said that they shall judge the world, and the angels (and judging in Scripture is frequently put for governing); therefore (whether there will be another world of mortals which they shall govern, as angels now govern men; or whether the misery of damned men and angels will partly consist in as base a subjection to the glorified saints, as dogs now have to men, or wicked reprobates on earth to angels; or whether in respect of both these together, the saints shall then be kings, and rule and judge; or whether it be only the participation of the glory of Christ, that is called a kingdom, I will not here determine; but) it is most clear that they will have a distinct, particular knowledge of the world, which they themselves must judge; and some concernment in that work.

5. It is put into the description of the happiness of the saints, that they shall come from the east, and from the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, in the kingdom of God. Therefore they shall know them, and take some comfort in their presence.

6. Love (even to the saints, as well as unto God) is one of the graces which shall endure for ever. (1 Cor. 13.) It is exercised upon an immortal object (the image and children of the Most High), and therefore must be one of the immortal graces. For grace in the nature of it dieth not; and therefore if the object cease not, how should the grace cease, unless you will call its perfecting a ceasing?

It is a state too high for such as we, and I think for any mere creature to live so immediately and only upon God, as to have no use for any fellow creature, nor no comfort in them. God can make use of glorified creatures, in such subserviency and subordination to

himself, as shall be no diminution to his all sufficiency and honour, nor to our glory and felicity. We must take heed of fancying such a heaven itself, as is above the capacity of a creature; as some very wise divines think they have done, that tell us we shall immediately see

God's essence (his glory being that which is provided for our intuition and felicity, and is distinct from his essence; being not every where, as his essence is). And as those do, that tell us, because that God will be All in All, therefore we shall there have none of our comfort by any creature. Though flesh and blood shall not enter into that kingdom, but our bodies will then be spiritual bodies; yet will they be really the same as now, and distinct from our souls; and therefore must have a felicity suitable to a body glorified. And if the soul did immediately see God's essence, yet as no reason can conclude that it can see nothing else, or that it can see even created good, and not love it, so the body however must have objects and felicity fit for a body.

Object. 'But it is said, If we knew Christ after the flesh, henceforth know we him no more.'

Answ. No doubt but all the carnality in principles, matter, manner and ends of our knowledge, will then cease, as its imperfections; but that a carnal knowledge be turned into a spiritual, is no more a diminution to it, than it is to the glory of our bodies, to be made like the stars in the firmament of our Father.

Object. 'But then I shall have no more comfort in my present friends than in any other.'

Answ. 1. If you had none in them, it is no diminution to our happiness, if indeed we should have all in God, immediately and alone. 2. But if you have as much in others that you never knew before, that will not diminish any of your comfort in your ancient friends. 3. But it is most probable to us, that as there is a twofold object for our love in the glorified saints; one is their holiness, and the other is the relation which they stood in between God and us, being made his instruments for our conversion and salvation, so that we shall love saints in heaven in both respects: and in the first respect (which is the chiefest) we shall love those most that have most of God, and the greatest glory

(though such as we never knew on earth). And in the second respect we shall love those most, that were employed by God for our greatest good.

And that we shall not there lay by so much respect to ourselves, as to forget or disregard our benefactors, is manifest, 1. In that we shall for ever remember Christ, and love him, and praise him, as one that formerly redeemed us, and washed us in his blood, and hath made us kings and priests to God: and therefore we may also, in just subordination to Christ, remember them with love and thankfulness, that were his instruments for the collation of these benefits.

2. And this kind of self-love (to be sensible of good and evil to ourselves) is none of the sinful or imperfect selfishness to be renounced or laid by, but part of our very natures, and as inseparable from us as we are from ourselves.

Much more, were it not digressive, might be said on this subject; but I shall only add, That as God doth draw us to every holy duty by shewing us the excellency of that duty; and as perpetuity is not the smallest excellency; so he hath purposely mentioned that love

endureth for ever (when he had described the love of one another), as a principal motive to kindle and increase this love. And therefore those that think they shall have no personal knowledge of one another, nor personal love to one another (for we cannot love personally, if we know not personally), do take a most effectual course to destroy in their souls all holy special love to saints, by casting away that principal or very great motive given them by the Holy Ghost. I am not able to love much where I foreknow that I shall not love long. I cannot love a comely inn, so well as a meaner dwelling of my own, because

I must be gone to-morrow. Therefore must I love my Bible better than my law-books, or physic-books, &c. because it leadeth to eternity.

And therefore I must love holiness in myself and others, better than meat and drink, and wealth and honour, and beauty and pleasure; because it must be loved for ever, when the love of these must needs be transitory, as they are transitory. I must profess from the very experience of my soul, that it is the belief that I shall love my friends in heaven, that principally kindleth my love to them on earth; and if I thought I should never know them after death, and consequently never love them more, when this life is ended, I should in reason number them with temporal things, and love them comparatively but a little; even as I love other transitory things (allowing for the excellency in the nature of grace). But now I converse with some delight with my godly friends, as believing I shall converse with them for ever, and take comfort in the very dead and absent, as believing we shall shortly meet in heaven: and I love them, I hope, with a love that is of a heavenly nature, while I love them as the heirs of heaven, with a love which I expect shall there be perfected, and more fully and for ever exercised.

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