Macedonia, and Athens, condemned the ungrateful person to death;
Six Duties which Lie Upon Weak Saints
III. The third thing propounded, was to show you the duty of weak saints. Who these weak saints are, you have heard; and what their supports and comforts are, you have heard; and now I shall show you their duty in the following particulars.
And the first duty that I shall press upon weak saints is this:
1. To be thankful for that little grace they have. [The laws of Persia, Macedonia, and Athens, condemned the ungrateful person to death; and certainly unthankfulness may well be styled the epitome of all vices.]
Will you be thankful, O Christian, for the least courtesy showed you by men? And will you not be thankful for that little measure of grace that is bestowed upon you by God? Do you remember, O weak Christian! that the least measure of grace is more worth than a thousand worlds? that it is more worth than heaven itself? Do you remember, O weak Christian! that the greatest number of men have not the least measure or grain of saving grace? Does free grace knock at your door, when it passes by the doors of thousands? And does it cast the pearl of great price into your bosom, when others are left to wallow in their blood forever? And will you not be thankful? Oh do but consider, weak souls, how notoriously wicked you would have been if the Lord had not bestowed a little grace upon you! You look, O soul, one way, and there you hear some a-cursing, and ablaspheming God to his very face. Had not the Lord given you a little grace, ten thousand to one but you had been one in wickedness among these monsters of mankind. And you look another way, and there you see persons dicing, carding, gambling and drunkenning, etc.; why, had not the Lord vouchsafed to you some tastes and sips of grace, you might have been as vile as the vilest among them! Ah,
weak saints! you do not think what an awakened conscience would give for a little of that little grace that the Lord has given you. Were all the world a lump of gold, and in their hand to give—they would give it for the least spark of grace, for the least drop of mercy.
I have read of a man who, being in a burning fever, professed that if he had all the world at his dispose, he would give it all for one draught of beer. So would an awakened conscience give for one grain of grace. Oh! says such a soul, when I look up and see God frowning, when I look inward and feel conscience gnawing and accusing, when I look downward and see hell open to receive me, and when I look on my right and left hand, and see devils standing ready to accuse me, oh! had I a thousand worlds I would give them all for a little drop of that grace that such and such souls have, whom I have formerly slighted and despised. Oh! what would not a damned soul, that has been but an hour in hell, give for a drop of that grace that you have in your heart! Think seriously of this and be thankful. [One of the kings of England in his straits cried out, "A kingdom for a horse! a kingdom for a horse!" So do awakened consciences cry out, A kingdom for a Christ! a kingdom for a Christ, or a little grace!]
Well! remember one thing more, and that is this, namely, that there is no such way to get much grace, as to be thankful for a little grace. He who opens his mouth wide in praises, shall have his heart filled with graces. Ingratitude stops the ear of God, and shuts the hand of God, and turns away the heart of the God of grace, and therefore you had need be thankful for a little grace. Unthankfulness is the greatest injustice that may be; it is a withholding from the great landlord of heaven and earth his due, his debt.
Philip branded his soldier who asked for the land of one that had relieved him and kindly entertained him, with the ungrateful guest. Lycurgus among all his laws, made none against the ungrateful; because that was thought a thing so wicked, as not to be committed by man. O weak saints! give not God an occasion by your ingratitude to brand you, and to write upon your foreheads, ungrateful children.
Had it not been for unthankfulness, Adam had been in paradise, the lapsed angels in heaven, and the Jews in their own land of promise. You know how to apply it, Isaiah 1:3-4.
But that I may in good earnest stir up your souls to thankfulness— will you take home with you these things, that perhaps have never or seldom been thought of by you?
[1.] First, Consider, that there is more need of praises than there is of prayers.
Two things do with open mouth proclaim this truth. And the first is this, our mercies greatly outweigh our needs. This is true in temporals—but infinitely more in spirituals and eternals. You lack this and that temporal mercy, and what is your lack, O soul! of this and that single mercy—compared to the multitudes of temporal mercies that you do enjoy? And as for spirituals, there is nothing more clear than this, that your spiritual mercies do infinitely outweigh your spiritual lacks. You lack this and that spiritual mercy —but what are those lacks to that God, that Christ, and all those spiritual blessings in heavenly places, with which you are blessed in Christ Jesus, Eph. 1:4. [God's favors and mercies seldom or never come single; there is a series or chain of them, and every former draws on a future.]
[2.] Secondly, Consider this, That all your wants and miseries are deserved and procured by your sins. Jer. 4:18, "Your way and your doings have procured these things unto you: this is your wickedness, because it is bitter, because it reaches unto your heart." And chapter 5:25, "Your iniquities have turned away these things, and your sins have withheld good things from you." But all your mercies are unmerited and undeserved; they all flow in upon you from the free love and favor of God; and therefore there is more need of praises than of prayers. And oh! that the high praises of God were more in your mouths, upon this very account! And oh that, with David, you would summon all the faculties of your souls to praise the Lord, who
has filled you, and followed you with the riches of mercy all your days, Psalm 149:2, and 103:1-5. [God and Christ are the sole fountain from whence all these streams of living waters flow.] But,
[3.] Thirdly, Consider this, Thankfulness is a surer and a better evidence of our sincerity, than praying or hearing, or such like services, are.
Thanksgiving is a self-denying grace; it is an uncrowning ourselves and the creatures, to set the crown upon the head of our Creator; it is the making ourselves a footstool, that God may be lifted up upon his throne, and ride in a holy triumph over all; it is a grace that gives God the supremacy in all our hearts, thoughts, desires, words, and works. Self-love, flesh and blood, and many low and carnal considerations, may carry men to pray, and hear, and talk, etc. The whip may work a slave to work—but thankfulness is the free-will offering of a child. There is nothing that so clearly and so fully speaks out your sincerity, as thankfulness does. Therefore, weak saints, if you would have a substantial evidence of your sincerity—be thankful for a little grace. The little birds do not sip one drop of water—but they look up, as if they meant to give thanks, to show us what we should do for every drop of grace, etc. [It is much to be feared that that man is Christless and graceless, who is earnest in craving mercies—but slow and dull in returning praises. It is a sign that the dumb devil has possessed such a man.]
The fourth and last consideration to set this home is this:
[4.] A thankful soul holds consort with the music of heaven.
By thankfulness you are like the angels, who are still a-singing hallelujahs to him who sits upon the throne, and is blessed forever, Rev. 4:6-9, and 5:12-14. In heaven there are no prayers—but all praises. I am apt to think, that there cannot be a clearer nor a greater argument of a man's right to heaven, and ripeness for heaven, than this, being much in the work of heaven here on earth. There is no
grace but love, nor no duty but thankfulness, which goes with us to heaven. [Epictetus wished he were a nightingale, to be ever singing. And what then should a saint wish?]
Ay—but weak saints may say, Sir! we judge that there is weight in what you say, to provoke us to thankfulness; but did we know that we had true grace, though it were ever so little, though it were but as the grain of mustard seed, we would be thankful. But this is our condition, we live between fears and hopes; one day hoping we shall go to heaven, and be happy forever; another day we are fearing that we shall go to hell, and miscarry forever; and thus we are up and down, backward and forward. Sometimes we believe we have grace, and at other times we doubt we have none; sometimes we have a little light, and suddenly our sun is clouded; one day we are ready to say with David, "The Lord is our portion," and the next day we are ready to complain with Jonah, that we are "cast out" from the presence of the Lord.
Methinks I hear a weak saint saying thus to me, Sir, I would gladly have an end put to this controversy which has been so long in my soul, namely, whether I have grace or not, and if you please, I will tell you what I find, and so humbly desire your judgment and opinion upon the whole.
Well, speak on, poor soul, and let me hear what you have found in your own soul.
Why, sir, then thus:
[1.] I find, first, a holy restlessness in my soul—until with old Simeon I have gotten Christ in my arms, yes, until I have gotten Christ in my heart, Luke 2:25-33. I go from duty to duty, and from ordinance to ordinance, and yet I cannot rest, because "I cannot find him whom my soul loves," Cant. 5:10. I am like Noah's dove, which could not rest until he had gotten into the ark. Oh I cannot be quiet until I know that I am housed in Christ. My soul is like a ship in a storm,
which is tossed hither and there, oh! where shall I find him? Oh! how shall I obtain him who is the chief of ten thousand? What Absalom said in another case, I can say in this, says the poor soul; in his banishment he could say, "What is all this to me, so long as I cannot see the king's face?" And truly the language of my soul is this, What is honor to me? and riches to me? and the favor of creatures to me? so long as I go mourning without my Christ, so long as I see not my saving interest in my Christ. [The child is restless until it be in the mother's arms.]
Well, have you anything else to say, O weak Christian? Yes sir, I have one thing more to say. What is that? Why, it is this:
[2.] I can truly say, that the poorest, the most distressed and afflicted man in the world, is not fuller of desires, nor stronger in his desires than I am. The poor man desires bread to feed him, and the wounded man desires a plaster to heal him, and the sick man desires cordials to strengthen him, etc. But these are not fuller of desires after those things which are suitable to them, than I am of holy and heavenly desires. Oh that I had more of God! oh that I were filled with Christ! oh that I had his righteousness to cover me, his grace to pardon me, his power to support me, his wisdom to counsel me, his lovingkindness to refresh me, and his happiness to crown me, etc.
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir, I have one thing more to tell you. What is that? Why, that is this:
[3.] Though I dare not say that Christ is mine—yet I can truly say, that Christ, his love, his works, his grace, his word, are the main objects of my contemplation and meditation. Oh, I am always best, when I am most a-meditating and contemplating Christ, his love, his
grace, etc. Psalm 139:17, "How precious are your thoughts unto me, O God; how great is the sum of them!"
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir, I have one thing more to say. What is that? Why, it is this:
[4.] I can truly say, That the lack of Christ's love is a greater grief and burden to my soul, than the lack of any outward thing in this world. I am in a lacking condition, as to temporals; I lack health, and strength, and trading, friends, and money, "which is the answer to all things," as Solomon speaks, Eccles. 10:19. And yet all these lacks do not so grieve me, and so afflict and trouble me, as the lack of Christ, as the lack of grace, as the lack of the discoveries of that favor, which is better than life, Psalm 63:3-4.
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir, there is one thing more. What is that? Why, that is this:
[5.] That I would not willingly nor resolvedly sin against Christ, for a world. It is true, I dare not say I have a saving interest in Christ—yet I dare say that I would not willingly and resolvedly sin against Christ for a world. [I will rather leap into a bonfire than willfully to commit wickedness, willfully to sin against God.] I can say, through grace, were I this moment to die, that my greatest fear is of sinning against Christ, and my greatest care is of pleasing Christ. I know there was a time, when my greatest care was to please myself and the creature, and my greatest fear was to displease myself and the creature. I can remember with sorrow and sadness of heart, how often I have displeased Christ to please myself, and displeased Christ to please the creature. But now it is quite otherwise with me, my greatest care is to please Christ, and my greatest fear is of offending Christ. [And I, said Anselm, had rather go to hell pure from sin than to heaven
polluted with that filth. The primitive Christians chose rather to be thrown to lions without, than left to lusts within.]
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir, I have one thing more. What is that? Why, that is this:
[6.] Though I dare not say that Christ is mine, and that I have an interest in him—yet I can truly say, I dearly love the people of Christ, for the image of Christ that I see stamped upon them. It is true, I dare not say Christ is mine, and heaven is mine; I cannot say with such and such, "The Lord is my portion;" yet I can say that I dearly love those who have the Lord for their portion. I can truly say, that the poorest and the most neglected, and the most despised saint in the world, is more precious in my eye, and more dear to my soul, than the greatest and the richest sinner in the world, Psalm 16:3. [It is reported of Bucer and Calvin, that they loved all those in whom they could espy anything of Christ. It is just so with these poor hearts who question their present condition.]
Well, is this all, O weak saint, that you have to say? No, sir, I have one thing more. What is that? Why, that is this:
[7.] Though I dare not say that I have any interest in Christ, or that I love Christ—yet I dare say, that my soul weeps and mourns in secret for the dishonor that is done to Christ, both by myself and by others also. I can look the Lord in the face, were I now to die, and say, Lord! you who know all thoughts and hearts, you do know, that "my eyes run down with rivers of tears, because men keep not your law," Jer. 9:1-3; Psalm 119:136.
Well, is this all? No, sir, I beg your patience to hear me in one thing more.
What is that, O weak Christian? Why, that is this:
[8.] That I prize people and things according to the spiritualness and holiness which is in them; and the more spiritual and holy any man or thing is, the more is that man and thing prized by my soul.
I have often thought of that sweet word, Psalm 119:104, "Your word is very pure, therefore does your servant love it." [Much in the word is wrapped up in a little; it is more to be admired than to have Homer's Illiads comprised in a nutshell. The word is like the stone, garamantides, which has golden drops within itself, enriching of the gracious soul.] Other men love it because of the profit they get by it, or because of a name, or this, or that; but I love it for the purity, for the holiness, and the cleanness of it. No preaching, says the weak saint, nor any praying, nor any talking, nor any society is sweet to me —but that which is most spiritual, most holy. It is not an exercise tricked and trimmed up with wit, learning, and eloquence; it is not the hanging of counterfeit pearls on truth's ears, which I prize; but the more plainness, spiritualness, and holiness, I see in an exercise, the more is my heart raised to prize it and love it.
And therefore, says the weak saint, because Christ is perfectly and infinitely holy above all other, I prize Christ above all. Ordinances are sweet—but Christ is more sweet to my soul. Saints are precious—but Christ is far more precious. Heaven is glorious—but Christ is infinitely more glorious. The first thing that I would ask, if I might have it, says the weak saint, is Christ. And the next thing that I would ask, if I might have it, is more of Christ. And the last thing that I would ask, if I might have it, is that I might be satiated and filled with the fullness of Christ. Let the ambitious man take the honors of the world, so I may but have Christ. Let the voluptuous man swim in all the pleasures of the world, so I may have Christ. And let the covetous man tumble up and down in all the gold and silver of the world, so I may have Christ—and it shall be enough to my soul. [None but Christ, none but Christ, said the martyr.]
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir; I have one thing more to say, What is that? Why, it is this:
[9.] I find the same conflict in my soul that Paul found in his soul, after he was converted nearly fourteen years, after he was taken up into as clear and choice enjoyments of God, as any soul that ever I read of. The conflict that is mentioned, Romans 7:6, I find in my soul. The whole frame of my soul, understanding, will, and affections, are set against sin. I find that "I hate the evil that I do, and I find that the good which I would do—I do not; and the evil which I would not do—that do I. I find a law in my members, rebelling against the law of my mind, and leading of me captive into the law of sin," and this makes me often to cry out with Paul, "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death? Therefore I sometime hope, that those sins which are now my burden, shall never hereafter be my bane. [The best saints in this world are like the tribe of Manasseh, half on this side Jordan, in the land of the Amorites, and half on that side, in the Holy Land. And though to be kept from sin brings most comfort to a poor soul—yet for a poor soul to oppose sin, and God to pardon sin—that brings most glory to God, 2 Cor. 12:7-9.]
Well, and is this all, O weak saint? No, sir; I have one thing more to say. What is that? Why that is this:
[10.] I can truly say, when the Lord gives me any strength against sin, and any power to serve him, and walk close with him in his ways—it is a greater joy and comfort to my soul, than all the blessings of this life. Though I have not yet seen, he has "set me as a seal upon his heart, as a seal upon his arm;" though I have not yet the clear assurance of his love; though his spirit has not yet set up such a light in my soul, whereby I might run and read my right and title to
himself and heaven; yet when he does give me but a little light through a crevice, when he does but begin to cause his love to dawn upon me, when he gives me but a little strength against sin, and a little power to walk close with himself, etc.; oh, this does administer more abiding joy, and more sweet peace, and more solid comfort to my soul, than all the riches, honors, friends, and favors of this world. [A gracious soul is as careful that he does not endanger another by a bad life, as he is careful to save his own life.]
Well, is this all, O weak saint? No, sir; I have one thing more to say. What is that? Why, that is this:
[11.] Though my interest in Christ be not clear to me—yet I can truly say I would not change my condition with the men of this world, for a thousand worlds, Psalm 101:3; 139:21-22; 120:6. It is true, I cannot say that I have "the seal and witness of the Spirit," that many talk and boast of, though I fear but a few enjoy; yet I can truly say, that I would not change my estate with men merely civil, nor with the profane men of this world, for ten thousand worlds, etc.
Well, is this all, O soul! No, sir; I have but one thing more, and then I am done. Well, what is that? Why, that is this.
[12.] I find my soul carried forth to a secret resting, relying, leaning, staying, and hanging upon Christ for life and happiness. Though I know not how it shall go with me—yet I have thrown myself into his arms; I lean upon him; there I will hang, and there I will rest and stay: "if I must perish, I will perish there," Job 13:15; 2 Kings 7:3-5; Esther 4:16.
And thus, sir, I have opened my state and condition to you; and now I do earnestly desire your judgment upon the whole.