II. Use 7.—Reproving our unwillingness to die
and secure the continuance of this through eternity, then settle yourselves below, and say, Soul, take thy rest here; but till then, admit not such a thought.
CHAP. II USE VII.—Reproving our Unwillingness to Die SECT. I. Is there a rest remaining for the people of God? Why are we then so loth to die, and to depart from hence that we may possess this rest? If I may judge of other men's hearts by my own, we are exceeding guilty in this point. We linger, as Lot in Sodom, till God being merciful to us, doth pluck us away against our wills. How rare is it to meet with a Christian, though of strongest parts, and longest profession, that can die with an unfeigned willingness! Especially if worldly calamity constrain them not to be willing! Indeed, we sometime set a good face on it, and pretend a willingness when we see there is no remedy, and that our unwillingness is only a disgrace to us, but will not help to prolong our lives: but if God had enacted such a law for the continuance of our lives on earth, as is enacted for the continuance of that parliament, that we should not be dissolved till our own pleasure; and that no man should die till he were truly willing; I fear heaven might be empty for the most of us; and if our worldly prosperity did not fade, our lives on earth would be very long, if not eternal. We pretend desires of being better prepared, and of doing God some greater service, and to that end we beg one year more, and another, and another; but still our promised preparation and service are as far to seek as ever before, and we remain as unwilling to die, as we were when we begged our first reprival. If God were not more willing of our company, than we are of his, how long should we remain thus distant from him? And as we had never been sanctified if God had staid till we were willing; so if he should refer it wholly to ourselves, it would at least be long before we should be glorified. I confess that death of itself is not desirable; but the soul's rest is with God, to which death is the common passage. And because
we are apt to make light of this sin, and to plead our common nature to patronize it, let me here set before you its aggravations; and also propound some further considerations, which may be useful to you and myself against it.
Sect. II. And, first, consider what a deal of gross infidelity doth lurk in the bowels of this sin. Either paganish unbelief of the truth of that eternal blessedness, and of the truth of the Scripture which doth promise it to us; or, at least, a doubting of our own interest; or most usually somewhat of both these. And though Christians are usually most sensible of the latter, and therefore complain most against it, yet I am apt to suspect the former to be the main radical master-sin, and of greatest force in this business. Oh! if we did but verily believe that the promise of this glory is the word of God, and that God doth truly mean as he speaks, and is fully resolved to make it good; if we did verily believe that there is, indeed, such blessedness prepared for believers as the Scripture mentioneth, surely we should be as impatient of living as we are now fearful of dying, and should think every day a year till our last day should come. We should as hardly refrain from laying violent hands on ourselves, or from the neglecting of the means of our health and life, as we do now from overmuch carefulness and seeking of life by unlawful means. If the eloquent oration of a philosopher, concerning the soul's immortality and the life to come, could make his affected hearer presently to cast himself headlong from the rock, as impatient of any longer delay, what would a serious christian belief do, if God's law against selfmurder did not restrain? Is it possible that we can truly believe that death will remove us from misery to such glory, and yet be loth to die? If it were the doubts of our interest which made us afraid, yet a true belief of the certainty and excellency of this rest would make us restless till our interest be cleared. If a man that is desperately sick to-day, did believe he should arise sound the next morning; or a man to-day, in despicable poverty, had assurance that he should tomorrow arise a prince; would they be afraid to go to bed, or rather think it the longest day of their lives, till that desired night and morning came? The truth is, though there is much faith and
Christianity in our mouths, yet there is much infidelity and paganism in our hearts, which is the main cause that we are so loth to die.
Sect. III. 3. And as the weakness of our faith, so also the coldness of our love, is exceedingly discovered by our unwillingness to die. Love doth desire the nearest conjunction, the fullest fruition, and closest communion. Where these desires are absent, there is only a naked pretence of love. He that ever felt such a thing as love working in his breast, hath also felt these desires attending it. If we love our friend, we love his company: his presence is comfortable, his absence is troublesome. When he goes from us, we desire his return: when he comes to us, we entertain him with welcome and gladness: when he dies, we mourn, and usually overmourn. To be separated from a faithful friend, is to us as the renting of a member from our bodies; and would not our desires after God be such, if we really loved him?
Nay, should it not be much more than such, as he is above all friends most lovely? The Lord teach us to look closely to our hearts, and take heed of self-deceit in this point: for, certainly, whatever we pretend or conceit, if we love either father, mother, husband, wife, child, friend, wealth, or life, more than Christ, we are yet none of his sincere disciples. When it comes to the trial, the question will not be who hath preached most, or heard most, or talked most, but who hath loved most. When our account is given, Christ will not take sermons, prayers, fastings; no, not the giving of our goods, nor the burning of our bodies instead of love. (1 Cor. 13:1–4, 8, 13, and 16:22;
Eph. 6:24.) And do we love him, and yet care not how long we are from him? If I be deprived of my bosom friend, methinks I am as a man in a wilderness, solitary and disconsolate: and is my absence from God no part of my trouble; and yet can I take him for my chiefest friend? If I delight but in some garden, or walk, or gallery, I would be much in it: if I love my books, I am much with them, and almost unweariedly poring on them. The food which I love, I would often feed on: the clothes that I love, I would often wear: the recreations which I love, I would often use them: the business which I love, I would be much employed in. And can I love God, and that above all these, and yet have no desires to be with him? Is it not a far
likelier sign of hatred than of love, when the thoughts of our appearing before God are our most grievous thoughts; and when we take ourselves as undone, because we must die and come unto him?
Surely, I should scarce take him for an unfeigned friend, who were as well contented to be absent from me, as we ordinarily are to be absent from God. Was it such a joy to Jacob to see the face of Joseph in Egypt, and shall we so dread the sight of Christ in glory, and yet say we love him? I dare not conclude that we have no love at all when we are so loth to die; but I dare say, were our love more, we should die more willingly. Yea, I dare say, did we love God but as strongly as a worldling loves his wealth, or as an ambitious man his honour, or a voluptuous man his pleasure, yea, as a drunkard loves his swinish delight, or an unclean person his brutish lust; we should not then be so exceeding loth to leave the world, and go to God. Oh! if this holy flame of love were thoroughly kindled in our breasts, instead of our pressing fears, our dolorous complaints, and earnest prayers against death, we should join in David's wilderness lamentations. "As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O
God: my soul thirsteth for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?" (Psalm 42:1, 2.) The truth is, as our knowledge of God is exceeding dark, and our faith in him exceeding feeble; so is our love to him but little, and therefore are our desires after him so dull.
Sect. IV. 3. It appears we are little weary of sinning, when we are so unwilling to be freed by dying. Did we take sin for the greatest evil, we should not be willing of its company so long; did we look on sin as our cruellest enemy, and on a sinful life as the most miserable life, sure we should then be more willing of a change. But, oh! how far are our hearts from our doctrinal profession, in this point also! We preach, and write, and talk against sin, and call it all that naught is: and when we are called to leave it, we are loth to depart: we brand it with the most odious names that we can imagine, and all fall short of expressing its vileness; but when the approach of death puts us to the trial, we choose a continuance with these abominations, before the presence and fruition of God. But as Nemon smote his soldier for
railing against Alexander's enemy, saying, "I hired thee to fight against him, and not to rail against him;" so may God smite us also when he shall hear our tongues reviling that sin which we resist so slothfully, and part with so unwillingly. Christians, seeing we are conscious that our hearts deserve a smiting for this, let us join together to chide and smite our own hearts, before God do judge and smite them. O foolish, sinful, heart! hast thou been so long a sink of sin, a cage of all unclean lusts, a fountain incessantly streaming forth the bitter and deadly waters of transgression: and art thou not yet more weary? Wretched soul! hast thou been so long wounded in all thy faculties; so grievously languishing in all thy performances; so fruitful a soul for all iniquities; and art thou not yet weary? Hast thou not yet transgressed long enough; nor long enough provoked thy
Lord; nor long enough abused love? Wouldst thou yet grieve the Spirit more, and sin against thy Saviour's blood, and more increase thine own wounds, and still lie under thy grievous imperfections?
Hath thy sin proved so profitable a commodity, so necessary a companion, such a delightful employment, that thou dost so much dread the parting day? Hath thy Lord deserved this at thy hands, that thou shouldst choose to continue in the suburbs of hell, rather than live with him in light; and rather stay and drudge in sin, and abide with his and thy own professed enemy, than come away and dwell with God? May not God justly grant thee thy wishes, and seal thee a lease of thy desired distance, and nail thy ear to these doors of misery, and exclude thee eternally from his glory? Foolish sinner! who hath wronged thee, God or sin? Who hath wounded thee and caused thy groans? Who hath made thy life so woful, and caused thee to spend thy days in dolour? Is it Christ, or is it thy corruption; and art thou yet so loth to think of parting? Shall God be willing to dwell with man, and the Spirit to abide in thy peevish heart; and that where sin doth straiten his room, and a cursed inmate, inhabit with him, which is ever quarrelling and contriving against him: and shall man be loth to come to God, where is nothing but perfect blessedness and glory? Is not this to judge ourselves unworthy of everlasting life?
If they in Acts 13:46, who put the Gospel from them, did judge themselves unworthy, do not we who flee from life and glory?
Sect. V. 4. It shows that we are insensible of the vanity of the creature, and of the vexation accompanying our residence here, when we are so loth to hear or think of a removal. Whatever we say against the world, or how grievous soever our complaints may seem; we either believe not, or feel not what we say, or else we should be answerably affected to it. We call the world our enemy, and cry out of the oppression of our taskmasters, and groan under our sore bondage; but either we speak not as we think, or else we imagine some singular happiness to consist in the possession of worldly things, for which all this should be endured. Is any man loth to leave his prison, or to remove his dwelling from his cruel enemies, or to escape the hands of murderous robbers? Do we take the world indeed for our prison, our cruel, spoiling, murderous foe; and yet are we loth to leave it? Do we take this flesh for the clog of our spirits; and a veil that is drawn betwixt us and God; and a continual indwelling traitor to our souls; and yet are we loth to lay it down?
Indeed, Peter was smitten by the angel,q before he arose and left his prison; but it was more from his ignorance of his intended deliverance, than any unwillingness to leave the place. I have read of Joseph's long imprisonment, and Daniel's casting into the den of lions, and Jeremiah's sticking fast in the dungeon, and Jonah's lying in the belly of the whale, and David from the deep crying to God; but I remember not that any were loth to be delivered. I have read, indeed, that they suffered cheerfully, and rejoiced in being afflicted, destitute, and tormented; yea, and that some of them would not accept of deliverance: but not from any love to the suffering, or any unwillingness to change their condition, but because of the hard terms of their deliverance, and from the hope they had of a better resurrection. Though Paul and Silas could sing in the stocks,s and comfortably bear the cruel scourgings, yet I do not believe they were unwilling to go forth, nor took it ill when God released them. Ah, foolish, wretched soul! doth every prisoner groan for freedom, and every slave desire his jubilee, and every sick man long for health, and every hungry man for food; and dost thou alone abhor deliverance?
Doth the seaman long to see the land? Doth the husbandman desire the harvest, and the labouring man to receive his pay? Doth the
traveller long to be at home, and the runner long to win the prize, and the soldier long to win the field? And art thou loth to see thy labours finished, and to receive the end of thy faith and sufferings, and to obtain the thing for which thou livest? Are all thy sufferings only seeming? Have thy gripes, thy griefs and groans, been only dreams? If they were, yet methinks we should not be afraid of waking. Fearful dreams are not delightful. Or, is it not rather the world's delights that all were dreams and shadows? Is not all its glory as the light of the glow-worm, a wandering fire, yielding but small directing light, and as little comforting heat in all our doubtful and sorrowful darkness? Or, hath the world, in these its latter days, laid aside its ancient enmity? Is it become of late more kind? Hath it left its thorny, renting nature? Who hath wrought this great change, and who hath made this reconciliation? Surely, not the great Reconciler.
He hath told us, in the world we shall have trouble, and in him only we shall have peace. We may reconcile ourselves to the world at our peril, but it will never reconcile itself to us. O foolish, unworthy soul, who hadst rather dwell in this land of darkness, and rather wander in this barren wilderness, than be at rest with Jesus Christ; who hadst rather stay among the wolves, and daily suffer the scorpions' stings, than to praise the Lord with the hosts of heaven. If thou didst well know what heaven is, and what earth is, it would not be so.
Sect. VI. This unwillingness to die, doth actually impeach us of high treason against the Lord: is it not a choosing of earth before him; and taking these present things for our happiness, and consequently making them our very God? If we did indeed make God our God; that is, our end, our rest, our portion, our treasure, how is it possible but we should desire to enjoy him? It behoves us the rather to be fearful of this, it being utterly inconsistent with saving grace, to value any thing before God, or to make the creature our highest end. Many other sins, foul and great, may possibly yet consist with sincerity; but so, I am certain, cannot that. But concerning this I have spoken before.
Sect. VII. 6. And all these defects being thus discovered, what a deal of dissembling doth it moreover show! We take on us to believe undoubtedly the exceeding, eternal weight of glory; we call God our chiefest good, and say, We love him above all; and for all this, we flee from him as if it were from hell itself. Would you have any man believe you, when you call the Lord your only hope, and speak of Christ as all in all, and talk of the joy that is in his presence, and yet would endure the hardest life rather than die, and come into his presence? What self-contradiction this, to talk so hardly of the world and flesh, to groan and complain of sin and suffering, and yet fear no day more than that which we expect should bring our final freedom!
What shameless, gross dissembling is this, to spend so many hours and days in hearing sermons, reading books, conferring with others, and all to learn the way to a place which we are loth to come to; to take on us all our lifetime to walk towards heaven, to run, to strive, to fight for heaven, which we are loth to come to! What apparent, palpable hypocrisy is this, to lie upon our knees in public and private, and spend one hour after another in prayer for that which we would not have! If one should overhear thee in thy daily devotions crying out, 'Lord, deliver me from this body of death, from this sin, this sickness, this poverty, these cares and fears; how long, Lord, shall I suffer these?' And withal should hear thee praying against death, can he believe thy tongue agrees with thy heart? Except thou have so far lost thy reason as to expect all this here; or except the papist's doctrine were true, that we are able to fulfil the law of God; or our late perfectionists were truly enlightened, who think they can live and not sin: but if thou know these to be undoubtedly false, how canst thou deny thy gross dissembling?
Sect. VIII. 7. Consider, How do we wrong the Lord and his promises, and disgrace his ways in the eyes of the world! As if we would actually persuade them to question, whether God be true of his word or not; whether there be any such glory as Scripture mentions; when they see those who have professed to live by faith, and have boasted of their hopes in another world, and persuaded others to let go all for these hopes, and spoken disgracefully of all things below, in
comparison of these inexpressible things above; I say, when they see these very men so loth to leave their hold of present things, and to go to that glory which they talked and boasted of, how doth it make the weak to stagger, and confirm the world in their unbelief and sensuality; and make them conclude, Sure if these professors did expect so much glory, and make so light of the world as they seem, they would not themselves be so loth of a change. Oh, how are we ever able to repair the wrong which we do to God and poor souls by this scandal! and, what an honour to God; what a strengthening to believers; what a conviction to unbelievers would it be if Christians in this did answer their professions, and cheerfully welcome the news of rest!
Sect. IX. 8. It evidently discovers that we have been careless loiterers, that we have spent much time to little purpose, and that we have neglected and lost a great many warnings. Have we not had all our lifetime to prepare to die? So many years to make ready for one hour, and are we so unready and unwilling yet? What have we done, why have we lived, that the business of our lives is so much undone? Had we any greater matters to mind? Have we not foolishly wronged our souls in this? Would we have wished more frequent warnings! How oft hath death entered the habitations of our neighbours! How oft hath it knocked at our own doors! We have first heard that 'such an one is dead,' and then 'such an one,' and 'such an one,' till our towns have changed most of their inhabitants; and was not all this a sufficient warning to tell us that we were also mortals, and our own turn would shortly come? Nay, we have seen death raging in towns and fields, so many hundred a day dead of the pestilence, so many thousands slain by the sword? and did we not know it would reach to us at last? How many distempers have vexed our bodies; frequent languishings, consuming weaknesses, wasting fevers; here pain, and there trouble, that we have been forced to receive the sentence of death; and what were all these but so many messengers sent from God to tell us we must shortly die, as if we had heard a lively voice bidding us, 'Delay no more, but make you ready;' and are we unready and unwilling after all this? O careless, dead-hearted sinners,
unworthy neglecters of God's warning, faithless betrayers of your own souls!
All these heinous aggravations do lie upon this sin of unwillingness to die, which I have laid down to make it hateful to my own soul, which is too much guilty of it, as well as yours; and for a further help to our prevailing against it, I shall adjoin these following considerations:
Sect. X. 1. Consider, "Not to die," were "never to be happy." To escape death, were to miss of blessedness; except God should translate us as Enoch and Elias, which he never did before or since. If our hope in Christ were in this life only, we were then of all men most miserable: the epicure hath more pleasure to his flesh than the Christian; the drunkard, the whore-master, and the jovial lads, do swagger it out with gallantry and mirth, when a poor saint is mourning in a corner: yea, the very beasts of the field do eat, and drink, and skip, and play, and care for nothing, when many a Christian dwells with sorrows: so that if you would not die, and go to heaven, what would you have more than an epicure or a beast? What doth it avail us to fight with beasts, as men, if it were not for our hopes of a life to come: why do we pray, and fast, and mourn: why do we suffer the contempt of the world: why are we the scorn and hatred of all: if it were not for our hopes after we are dead? Why are we
Christians, and not pagans and infidels, if we do not desire a life to come? Why, Christian, wouldst thou lose thy faith, and lose thy labour in all thy duties, and all thy sufferings? Wouldst thou lose thy hope, and lose all the end of thy life, and lose all the blood of Christ, and be contented with the portion of a worldling or a brute? If thou say No to this, how canst thou then be loth to die? As good old Milius said, when he was dying, and was asked whether he was willing to die or not, "Illius est nolle mori, qui nolit ire ad Christum." A saying of Cyprian's, which he oft repeated, "Let him be loth to die, who is loth to be with Christ."z
Sect. XI. 2. Consider, Is God willing by death to glorify us; and are we unwilling to die that we may be glorified? Would God freely give us heaven; and are we unwilling to receive it? As the prince who would have taken the lame beggar into his coach, and he refused, said to him, "Optime mereris qui in luto hæreas," "Thou well deservest to stick in the dirt;" so may God to the refusers of rest, 'You well deserve to live in trouble.' Methinks, if a prince were willing to make you his heir, you should scarce be unwilling to accept it. Surely the refusing of such a kindness must needs discover ingratitude and unworthiness. As God hath resolved against them who make excuses when they should come to Christ, "Verily, none of these that were bidden shall taste of my supper;" so is it just with him to resolve against us who frame excuses when we should come to glory.
Ignatius, when he was condemned to be torn with wild beasts, was so afraid, lest by the prayers and means of his friends, he should lose the opportunity and benefit of martyrdom, that he often entreated them to let him alone, and not hinder his happiness; and tells them he was afraid of their love, lest it would hurt him, and their carnal friendship would keep him from death.
Sect. XII. 3. The Lord Jesus was willing to come from heaven to earth for us, and shall we be unwilling to remove from earth to heaven for ourselves and him? Surely if we had been once possessed of heaven, and God should have sent us to earth again, as he did his Son for our sakes, we should then have been loth to remove indeed. It was another kind of change than ours is, which Christ did freely submit unto, to clothe himself with the garments of flesh, and to take upon him the form of a servant; to come from the bosom of the Father's love to bear his wrath which we should have borne. Shall he come down to our hell, from the height of glory to the depth of misery, to bring us up to his eternal rest? and shall we be after this unwilling?c
Sure Christ had more cause to be unwilling; he might have said, 'What is it to me if these sinners suffer? If they value their flesh above their spirits, and their lusts above my Father's love, if they needs will sell their souls for nought, who is it fit should be the loser; and who should bear the blame and curse? Should I whom they have
wronged? Must they wilfully transgress my law, and I undergo their deserved pain? Is it not enough that I bear the trespass from them, but I must also bear my Father's wrath, and satisfy the justice which they have wronged? Must I come down from heaven to earth, and clothe myself with human flesh; be spit upon, and scorned by man; and fast, and weep, and sweat, and suffer, and bleed, and die a cursed death? And all this for wretched worms, who would rather hazard all they had, and venture their souls and God's favour, than they would forbear one forbidden morsel! Do they east away themselves so slightly, and must I redeem them again so dearly?'
Thus we see that Christ had much to have pleaded against his coming for man, and yet he pleaded none of this; he had reason enough to have made him unwilling, and yet did he voluntarily condescend. But we have no reason against our coming to him, except we will reason against our hopes, and plead for a perpetuity of our own calamities.
Christ came down to fetch us up, and would we have him lose his blood and labour, and go away again without us? Hath he bought our rest at so dear a rate? Is our inheritance purchased with the blood of God, and are we after all this loth to enter? Ah! sirs, it was Christ, and not we, that had cause to be loth. The Lord forgive and heal this foolish ingratitude.
Sect. XIII. 4. Consider, Do we not combine with our most cruel, mortal foes, and jump with them in their most malicious design, while we are loth to die and go to heaven? Where is the height of their malice; and what is the scope of all temptations; and what is the devil's daily business? Is it not to keep our souls from God? And shall we be well content with this, and join with Satan in our desires?
What though it be not those eternal torments, yet it is the one half of hell which we wish to ourselves, while we desire to be absent from heaven and God. If thou shouldst take counsel of all thine enemies, if thou shouldst beat thy brains both night and day in studying to do thyself a mischief, what greater than this could it possibly be, to continue here on earth from God; excepting only hell itself? Oh, what sport is this to Satan, that his desires and thine should so concur; that when he sees he cannot get thee to hell, he can so long keep thee
out of heaven, and make thee the earnest petitioner for it thyself! Oh, gratify not the devil so much to thy own displeasure!
Sect. XIV. 5. Do not our daily fears of death make our lives a continual torment? The fears of death being, as Erasmus saith, a sorer evil than death itself. And thus, as Paul did die daily in regard of preparation, and in regard of the necessary sufferings of this life, so do we in regard of the torments and the useless sufferings which we make ourselves. Those lives which might be full of joys in the daily contemplation of the life to come, and the sweet, delightful thoughts of bliss, how do we fill them up with terrors through all these causeless thoughts and fears! Thus do we consume our own comforts, and prey upon our truest pleasures. When we might lie down, and rise up, and walk abroad, with our hearts full of the joys of God, we continually fill them with perplexing fears. For he that fears dying, must be always fearing, because he hath always cause to expect it. And how can that man's life be comfortable, who lives in continual fear of losing his comforts?
Sect. XV. 6. Moreover, All these are self-created sufferings: as if it were not enough to be the deservers, but we must also be the executioners of our own calamities. As if God had not inflicted enough upon us, but we must inflict more upon ourselves! Is not death bitter enough to the flesh of itself, but we must double, and treble, and multiply its bitterness? Do we complain so much of the burden of our troubles, and yet daily add unto the weight? Surely, the state of poor mortals is sufficiently calamitous; they need not make it so much worse. The sufferings laid upon us by God, do all lead to happy issues; the progress is from suffering to patience, from thence to experience, and so to hope, and at last to glory. (Rom. 5:3,
4, 8:17.) But the sufferings which we do make ourselves, have usually issues answerable to their causes. The motion is circular and endless; from sin to suffering, from suffering to sin, and so to suffering again, and so in infinitum; and not only so, but they multiply in their course; every sin is greater than the former, and so every suffering also greater. This is the natural progress of them, which, if mercy do
intercept, no thanks to us. So that, except we think that God hath made us to be our own tormenters, we have small reason to nourish our fears of death.
Sect. XVI. 7. Consider, further, They are all but useless, unprofitable fears. (Matt. 6:27, 34.) As all our care cannot make one hair white or black, or add one cubit to our stature, so can neither our fear prevent our sufferings, nor delay our dying time an hour: willing or unwilling, we must away. Many a man's fears have hastened his end, but no man's ever did avert it. It is true, a cautelous fear or care concerning the danger after death, hath profited many, and is very useful to the preventing of that danger; but for a member of Christ, and an heir of heaven, to be afraid of entering his own inheritance, this is a sinful, useless fear.
Sect. XVII. 8. But though it be useless in respect of good, yet to Satan it is very serviceable. Our fears of dying ensnare our souls, and add strength to many temptations. Nay, when we are called to die for Christ, and put to it in a day of trial, it may draw us to deny the known truth, and forsake the Lord God himself. You look upon it now as a small sin, a common frailty of human nature; but if you look to the dangerous consequences of it, methinks it should move you to other thoughts. What made Peter deny his Lord? What makes apostates in suffering times forsake the truth, and the green blade of unrooted faith to wither before the heat of persecution? Fear of imprisonment and poverty may do much, but fear of death will do much more. When you see the gibbet, or hear the sentence, if this fear of dying prevail in you, you will straight begin to say as Peter, "I know not the man." When you see the faggots set, and fire ready, you will say as that apostate to the martyr, "Oh! the fire is hot, and nature is frail," forgetting that the fire of hell is hotter: Sirs, as light as you make of it, you know not of what force these fears are to separate your souls from Jesus Christ. Have we not lately had frequent experience of it? How many thousands have fled in fight, and turned their backs on a good cause, where they knew the honour of God was concerned, and their country's welfare was the prize for which they
fought, and the hopes of their posterity did lie at the stake, and all through unworthy fear of dying! Have we not known those who, lying under a wounded conscience, and living in the practice of some known sin, durst scarce look the enemy in the face, because they durst not look death in the face, but have trembled, and drawn back, and cried, 'Alas! I dare not die: if I were in the case of such or such, I durst die.' He that dare not die, dare scarce fight valiantly. Therefore, we have seen in our late wars, that there is none more valiant than these two sorts: 1. Those who have conquered the fear of death by the power of faith; 2. And those who have extinguished it by desperate profaneness, and cast it away through stupid security. So much fear as we have of death, usually so much cowardice in the cause of God.
However, it is an evident temptation and snare. Beside the multitude of unbelieving contrivances and discontents at the wise disposals of God, and hard thoughts of most of his providences, which this sin doth make us guilty of: besides, also, it loseth us much precious time, and that for the most part near our end. When time should be most precious of all to us, and when it should be employed to better purpose, then do we vainly and sinfully waste it in the fruitless issues of these distracting fears. So that you see how dangerous a snare these fears are, and how fruitful a parent of many evils.
Sect. XVIII. 9. Consider, What a competent time the most of us have had; some thirty, some forty, some fifty or sixty years. How many come to the grave younger, for one that lives to the shortest of these!
Christ himself, as is generally thought, lived but thirty-three years on earth. If it were to come as it is passed, you would think thirty years a long time. Did you not, long ago, in your threatening sickness, think with yourselves, 'Oh, if I might but enjoy one seven years more, or ten years more!' And now you have enjoyed perhaps more than you then begged, and are you nevertheless unwilling yet? except you would not die at all, but desire an immortality here on earth, which is a sin inconsistent with the truth of grace. If your sorrow be merely this, that you are mortal, you might as well have lamented it all your lives, for surely you could never be ignorant of this. Why should not a man that would die at all, be as well willing, at thirty or forty, if God
see it meet, as at seventy or eighty; nay, usually when the longest day is come, men are as loth to depart as ever.l He that loseth so many years, hath more cause to bewail his own neglect, than to complain of the shortness of his time, and were better lament the wickedness of his life, than the brevity. Length of time doth not conquer corruption, it never withers nor decays through age. Except we receive an addition of grace, as well as time, we naturally grow the older the worse. Let us, then, be contented with our allotted proportion. And as we are convinced that we should not murmur against our assigned degree of wealth, of health, of honour, and other things here, so let us not be discontented with our allowed proportion of time. O my soul, depart in peace! Hast thou not here enjoyed a competent share?
As thou wouldst not desire an unlimited state in wealth and honour, so desire it not in point of time. Is it fit that God or thou should be the sharer. If thou wert sensible how little thou deservest an hour of that patience which thou hast enjoyed, thou wouldst think thou hast had a large part. Wouldst thou have thy age called back again; canst thou eat thy bread, and have it too? Is it not divine wisdom that sets the bounds? God will not let one have all the work, nor all the suffering, nor all the honour of the work. He will honour himself by variety of instruments; by various persons and several ages, and not by one person or age. Seeing thou hast acted thine own part, and finished thine appointed course, come down contentedly, that others may succeed, who must have their turns as well as thou. As of all other outward things, so also of that time and life, thou mayest as well have too much, as too little: only of God and eternal life, thou canst never enjoy too much, nor too long. Great receivings will have great accounts; where the lease is longer, the fine and rent must be the greater. Much time hath much duty. Is it not as easy to answer for the receivings and the duties of thirty years, as of an hundred?
Beg therefore for grace to improve it better, but be contented with thy share of time.
Sect. XIX. 10. Consider, Thou hast had a competency of the comforts of life, and not of naked time alone. God might have made thy life a misery; till thou hadst been as weary of possessing it, as thou art now
afraid of losing it. If he had denied thee the benefits and ends of living, thy life would have been but a slender comfort. They in hell have life as well as we, and longer far than they desire. God might have suffered thee to have consumed thy days in ignorance, or to have spent thy life to the last hour, before he brought thee home to himself, and given thee the saving knowledge of Christ, and then thy life had been short, though thy time long. But he hath opened thine eyes in the morning of thy days, and acquainted thee betimes with the trade of thy life. I know the best are but negligent loiterers, and spend not their time according to its worth; but yet he that hath a hundred years' time, and loseth it all, lives not so long as he that hath but twenty, and bestows it well. It is too soon to go to hell at a hundred years old, and not too soon to go to heaven at twenty.l The means are to be valued in reference to their end; that is the best means which speedliest and surest obtaineth the end. He that hath enjoyed most of the ends of life, hath had the best life, and not he that hath lived longest. You that are acquainted with the life of grace, what, if you live but twenty or thirty years, would you change it for a thousand years of wickedness? God might have let you have lived like the ungodly world, and then you would have had cause to be afraid of dying. We have lived in a place and time of light; in Europe, not in Asia, Africa, or America; in England, not in Spain or Italy; in the age when knowledge doth most abound, and not in our forefathers' days of darkness. We have lived among Bibles, sermons, books, and Christians. As one acre of fruitful soil is better than many of barren commons; as the possession of a kingdom for one year, is better than a lease of a cottage for twenty; so twenty or thirty years living in such a place or age as we, is better than Methuselah's age, in the case of most of the world besides. And shall we not then be contented with our portion? If we who are ministers of the Gospel have seen abundant fruit of our labours; if God hath blessed our labour in seven years, more than some others in twenty or thirty; if God have made us the happy, though unworthy, means of converting and saving more souls at a sermon, than some better men in all their lives, what cause have we to complain of the shortness of our time in the work of God? Would unprofitable, unsuccessful preaching have
been comfortable? Will it do us good to labour to little purpose, so we may but labour long? If our desires of living are for the service of the church, as our deceitful hearts are still pretending, then surely if God honour us to do the more service, though in the lesser time, we have our desire. God will have each to have his share; when we have had ours, let us rest contented. Persuade, then, thy backward soul to its duty, and argue down these dreadful thoughts. Unworthy wretch! hath thy Father allowed thee so large apart, and caused thy lot to fall so well, and given thee thine abode in pleasant places, and filled up all thy life with mercies, and dost thou think thy share too small? Is not that which thy life doth want in length, made up in breadth, and weight, and sweetness? Lay all together, and look about thee, and tell me how many of thy neighbours have more; how many in all the town or country have had a better share than thou. Why mightest not thou have been one of the thousands, whose carcasses thou hast seen scattered as dung on the earth; or why mightest not thou have been one that is useless in the church, and an unprofitable burden to the place thou livest in? What a multitude of hours of consolation; of delightful sabbaths; of pleasant studies; of precious companions; of wondrous deliverances; of excellent opportunities; of fruitful labours; of joyful tidings; of sweet experiences; of astonishing providences; hath thy life partaked of! So that many a hundred who have each of them lived a hundred years, have not altogether enjoyed so much, and yet art thou not satisfied with thy lot? Hath thy life been so sweet that thou art loth to leave it? Is that the thanks thou returnest to him, who sweetened it to draw thee to his own sweetness? Indeed, if this had been all thy portion, I could not blame thee to be discontented. And yet let me tell thee too, that of all these souls, who have no other portion, but receive all their good things in this life, there is few or none even of them who ever had so full a share as thyself. And hast thou not, then, had a fair proportion, for one that must shortly have heaven besides? O foolish soul! would thou wert as covetous after eternity, as thou art for a fading, perishing life; and after the blessed presence of God, as thou art for continuance with earth and sin! Then thou wouldst rather look through the windows, and cry through the lattices, "Why is his
chariot so long a coming; why tarry the wheels of his chariots?"
(Judges 5:28.) How long, Lord! how long!
Sect. XX. 11. Consider, What if God should grant thy desire, and let thee live yet many years, but withal should strip thee of the comforts of life, and deny thee the mercies which thou hast hitherto enjoyed: would this be a blessing worth the begging for? Might not God in judgment give thee life, as he gave the murmuring Israelites quails; or as he ofttimes gives men riches and honour, when he sees them over-earnest for it? Might he not justly say to thee, Seeing thou hadst rather linger on earth, than come away and enjoy my presence; seeing thou art so greedy of life, take it, and a curse with it; never let fruit grow on it more, nor the sun of comfort shine upon it, nor the dew of my blessing ever water it. Let thy table be a snare; let thy friends be thy sorrow; let thy riches be corrupted, and the rust of thy silver eat thy flesh. (Jam. 5:2, 3.) Go, hear sermons as long as thou wilt, but let never sermon do thee good more; let all thou hearest make against thee, and increase the smart of thy wounded spirit. If thou love preaching better than heaven, go and preach till thou be weary, but never profit soul more. Sirs, what if God should thus chastise our inordinate desires of living, were it not just; and what good would our lives then do us? Seest thou not some that spend their days on their couch in groaning; and some in begging by the highway sides; and others in seeking bread from door to door; and most of the world in labouring for food and raiment, and living only that they may live, and losing the ends and benefits of life? Why, what good would such a life do thee, were it never so long; when thy soul shall serve thee only instead of salt, to keep thy body from stinking? God might give thee life, till thou art weary of living, and as glad to be rid of it, as Judas or Ahitophel, and make thee like many miserable creatures in the world, who can hardly forbear laying violent hands on themselves. Be not, therefore, so importunate for life, which may prove a judgment instead of a blessing.
Sect. XXI. 12. Consider, How many of the precious saints of God, of all ages and places, have gone before thee. Thou art not to enter an
untrodden path, nor appointed first to break the ice. Except only Enoch and Elias, which of the saints have escaped death? And art thou better than they? There are many millions of saints dead, more than do now remain on earth. What a number of thine own bosom friends, and intimate acquaintance, and companions in duty, are now there; and why shouldst thou be so loth to follow? Nay, hath not Jesus Christ himself gone this way? Hath he not sanctified the grave to us, and perfumed the dust with his own body; and art thou loth to follow him too? Oh! rather let us say as Thomas, "Let us also go, and die with him;" or rather, let us suffer with him, that we may be glorified together with him.p Many suchlike considerations might be added, as that Christ hath taken out the sting. How light the saints have made of it: how cheerfully the very pagans have entertained it! &c. But because all that is hitherto spoken, is also conducible to the same purpose, I pass them by. If what hath been said will not persuade, Scripture and reason have little force.
I have said the more on this subject, finding it so needful to myself and others; finding that among so many Christians, who could do and suffer much for Christ, there is yet so few that can willingly die; and of many who have somewhat subdued other corruptions, so few have got the conquest of this. This caused me to draw forth these arrows from the quiver of Scripture, and spend them against it.
Sect. XXII. I will only yet answer some objections, and so conclude this use.
1. Object. Oh! if I were but certain of heaven, I should then never stick at dying.
Answ. 1. Search, for all that, whether some of the fore-mentioned causes may not be in fault, as well as this.
2. Didst thou not say so long ago? Have you not been in this song this many years? If you are yet uncertain, whose fault is it? You have had
nothing else to do with your lives, nor no greater matter than this to mind. Were you not better presently fall to the trial, till you have put the question out of doubt? Must God stay while you trifle; and must his patience be continued to cherish your negligence? If thou have played the loiterer, do so no longer. Go, search thy soul, and follow the search close, till thou come to a clear discovery. Begin to night; stay not till the next morning. Certainty comes not by length of time, but by the blessing of the Spirit upon wise and faithful trial. You may linger out thus twenty years more, and be still as uncertain as now you are.
3. A perfect certainty may not be expected; we shall still be deficient in that as well as in other things. They who think the apostle speaks absolutely, and not comparatively, of a perfect assurance in the very degree, when he mentions a plerophory or full assurance, I know no reason but they may expect perfection in all things else as well as this. When you have done all, you will know this but in part. If your belief of that scripture which saith, "Believe and be saved," be imperfect; and if your knowledge, whether your own deceitful hearts do sincerely believe or not, be imperfect; or if but one of these two be imperfect, the result or conclusion must needs be so too. If you would then stay till you are perfectly certain, you may stay for ever: if you have attained assurance but in some degree, or got but the grounds for assurance laid, it is then the speediest and surest way, to desire rather to be quickly in rest; for then, and never till then, will both the grounds and assurance be fully perfect.
4. Both your assurance, and the comfort thereof, is the gift of the Spirit, who is a free bestower: and God's usual time to be largest in mercy, is when his people are deepest in necessity. A mercy in season is the sweetest mercy. I could give you here abundance of late examples of those who have languished for assurance and comfort; some all their sickness, and some most of their lives: and when they have been near to death they have received in abundance. Never fear death, then, through imperfection of assurance; for that is the most usual time of all, when God most fully and sweetly bestows it.
Object. 2. Oh! but the church's necessities are great. God hath made me useful in my place; so that the loss will be to many; or else, methinks I could willingly die.
Sect. XXIII. Answ. This may be the case of some, but yet remember the heart is deceitful. God is often pretended, when ourselves are intended. But if this be it that sticks with thee indeed, consider, Wilt thou pretend to be wiser than God? Doth not he know how to provide for his church? Cannot he do his work without thee, or find out instruments enough besides thee? Think not too highly of thyself, because God hath made thee useful. Must the church needs fall when thou art gone? Art thou the foundation on which it is built? Could
God take away a Moses, an Aaron, David, Elias, &c., and find a supply for all their places; and cannot he also find a supply for thine?
This is to derogate from God too much, and to arrogate too much unto thyself. Neither art thou so merciful as God, nor canst love the church so well as he. As his interest is infinitely beyond thine, so is his tender care and bounty. But of this before.
Yet mistake me not in all that I have said. I deny not but that it is lawful and necessary for a Christian, upon both the beforementioned grounds, to desire God to delay his death, both for a further opportunity of gaining assurance, and also to be further serviceable to the church. See Phil. 2:26, 27. Time and life is a most precious mercy; not so much because of what we here enjoy, but because eternity of joy or torment dependeth on this time, when it must go with man for ever in heaven or hell, according to the provision he makes on earth; and they that will find a treasure in heaven must now lay it up there. (Matt. 6:19, 20.) I do not blame a man that is well in his wits, if he be loth to die, till he hath some comfortable assurance that it shall certainly go well with him in another world. And every man's assurance, as I have proved, is imperfect. And there I doubt not but, 1. We may pray for recovery from sicknesses. 2. And may rejoice in it, and give thanks for it, as a great mercy. 3. And may pray hard for our godly and ungodly friends in their sickness. 4. And must value our time highly, and improve it,
as a mercy which we must be accountable for. 5. And every godly man is so useful to the church, ordinarily, that, even for the church's service, he may desire to live longer, as Paul did, even till he come to the full age of man, and while he is able to serve the church, and it hath need of him. No man should be over hasty to a state that must never be changed, when both assurance of glory and his fitness for it are still imperfect; and ordinarily the saints grow fitter in their age.
But then this must not be in love of earth, but we must take it as our present loss to be kept from heaven, though it may tend to the church's and our own future advantage, and so may be desired: so that you must still see that heaven be valued and loved above earth, even when you have cause to pray for longer time, as she that longs to be married to a prince, may desire delay for preparation. But,
First, This is nothing to their case who are still delaying, and never willing; whose true discontents are at death itself, more than at the unseasonableness of dying. Secondly, Though such desires are sometimes lawful, yet must they be carefully bounded and moderated; to which end are the former considerations. We must not be too absolute and peremptory in our desires, but cheerfully yield to God's disposal. The rightest temper is that of Paul's, to be in a strait between two; desiring to depart, and be with Christ, and yet to stay while God will have us, to do the church the utmost service. But, alas! we are seldom in this strait: our desires run out all one way, and that for the flesh, and not the church. (Phil. 1:23.) Our straits are only for fear of dying, and not betwixt the earnest desires of dying, and of living. He that desireth life only to prepare for heaven, doth love heaven better than life on earth, for the end is still more beloved than all the means.
Sect. XXIV. Object. But is not death a punishment of God for sin?
Doth not Scripture call it the "king of fears;" and nature, above all other evils, abhor it?
Answ. I will not meddle with that which is controversial in this: whether death be properly a punishment or not: but grant, that, in itself considered, it may be called evil, as being naturally the