Law Gospelized; Or, An Address To All Christians Concerning Holiness Of Heart And Life.

Law Gospelized; Or, An Address To All Christians Concerning Holiness Of Heart And Life.

LAW GOSPELIZED; OR, AN

ADDRESS TO ALL CHRISTIANS

CONCERNING HOLINESS OF

HEART AND LIFE.

Monergism Books

LAW GOSPELIZED; OR, AN

ADDRESS TO ALL CHRISTIANS

CONCERNING HOLINESS OF

HEART AND LIFE.

AW GOSPELIZED; OR, AN ADDRESS TO ALL CHRISTIANS

CONCERNING HOLINESS OF HEART AND LIFE: BEING AN

ATTEMPT TO RENDER MR. LAW'S SERIOUS CALL MORE USEFUL

TO THE CHILDREN OF GOD, BY EXCLUDING WHATEVER IS NOT

TRULY EVANGELICAL, AND ILLUSTRATING THE SUBJECT MORE

FULLY FROM THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.

He hath chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love.

Ephesians i.4.

CHAPTER I.

T he Nature and Extent of Christian Devotion. 1

CHRISTIAN devotion, signifies a life given or devoted to God; he consequently, and he alone, is the devout man, who lives no longer to his own will, or after the way and spirit of the world, but to the sole will of God; who considers God in every thing; who makes all the parts of his common life, as well as his more immediate religious exercises, parts of piety, by doing every thing in the name of Jesus Christ, and under such rules as are conducive to promote God's glory.

Reason and scripture plainly evince the truth of this. For as there is but "one God and Father of us all," whose glory gives light and life to every thing that lives; whose presence fills all places, whose power supports all beings, whose providence ruleth all events; so every thing that lives, whether in heaven or earth, whether they be thrones or principalities, men or angels, they are all bound, by the laws of their creation, to live wholly to the praise and glory of this one God and Father of them all.

We readily acknowledge, that God alone is to be the rule and measure of our prayers; that in them we are to look wholly unto him, and act wholly for him; that we are only to pray in such a manner, and for such things, and with such ends as are suitable to his glory.

Now let any one but find out the reason why he is to be thus strictly pious in his prayers, and he will find the same, as strong a reason, why he is to be as strictly pious in all the other parts of his life: for were it not our strict duty to live by reason, and to devote all the actions of our lives to God; were it not absolutely necessary, and our highest privilege to walk before him in wisdom and holiness, and all heavenly conversation, doing every thing in his name, and for his glory, there would be no excellency and wisdom in the most heavenly prayers. Nay, such prayers would be absurdities, they would be like praying for wings, when it was no part of our duty to fly.

Again, we readily acknowledge, that Clergymen must live wholly unto God in one particular way, in the exercise of holy offices; in the ministration of prayers and sacraments, and a zealous distribution of spiritual things: but men of other employments, are in their particular ways as much obliged to act as the servants of God, and to live wholly unto him in their several callings. For as all Christians are by their baptism devoted to God, and made professors of holiness; so are they all in their several callings, to live as holy and heavenly persons; doing every thing in common life, only in such a manner as it may be received by God, as a service done to him.

Further, it will be readily acknowledged on all sides, that angels, whether they are principalities or powers, must all with one spirit, live wholly to the praise and glory of the one God and Father of them all; and that it is not allowable for, or becoming them, to act below the dignity of their proper

state. And is not a devout life, and a wise use of our proper condition, as much the duty of all Christians, as it is the duty of angels and celestial beings? Our blessed Saviour has cleared up this point, by making this petition a constant part of all our prayers, "Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." A plain proof, that the obedience of Christians, is to imitate at least the obedience of angels; and that rational beings on earth, are to be wholly devoted unto God, in like manner as rational beings in heaven are devoted to him.

These are not speculative flights, or imaginary notions, but are plain and undeniable truths, founded in the very nature of rational beings, and upon the infallible testimony of the lively oracles of God.

It is but barely complying with that apostolical precept, "Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." For no one can come near the doctrine of this passage, but he that proposes to himself to do every thing in this life, as a servant of God; to live by reason in every thing that he does; and to make the wisdom and holiness of the gospel, and the glory of God, the rule and measure of his desiring and using every gift of God.

Eating is one of the lowest actions of our lives; it is common to us with mere animals: yet we see, that this text, as well as by the practice of Christians in all ages, has turned this ordinary action of an animal life, into an act of piety to God, by making every meal to begin and end with devotion.

Some remains of this custom are yet to be seen in most Christian families; but indeed it is now generally so performed, as to look more like a mockery upon devotion, than any solemn application of the mind unto God.

However, these very remains, such as they are, are proofs, that religion has

formerly belonged to this, and consequently to every other part of common life.

But to return. The same Apostle, in his epistle to the Ephesians, commands servants "to be obedient to their masters in singleness of heart, as unto Christ; not with eye service, as men-pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart: with good-will doing service as unto the Lord, and not unto men." This passage sufficiently shews, that all Christians are to live wholly unto God, in every state and condition of life, doing the work of their common calling in such a manner, and for such ends, as to make it a part of their devotion or service to God. For if poor slaves are not to comply with their business as men-pleasers; if they are to look wholly unto God in all their actions, and serve in singleness of heart, as unto the Lord; surely men of other employments and conditions, must be as much obliged to go through their business with the same singleness of heart, not as pleasing the vanity of their own minds, nor as gratifying their own selfish, worldly passions, but as the servants of God in all that they have to do. To deny this, would be as absurd, as to make it necessary for one man to be more just or faithful than another.

To close these arguments founded on reason and scripture. Our being indispensably obliged to devote our lives to God, is very evident from that glorious passage of the Apostle, wherein he declares that "Christ died and rose again, that we should henceforth not live unto ourselves, but unto him that died for us; that we are not our own, but bought with a price," emphatically so called, and that we should "therefore glorify God in our souls and bodies which are his."

If then we desire to live as rational creatures, if we would not add heathen lives to Christian prayers, if we would perform our baptismal vow, and do

God's will on earth as it is done in heaven; if we would comply with the whole will of God, and answer the end of our blessed Lord's birth, death, resurrection, and ascension, we must live wholly to God, and make his glory the sole rule and measure of our acting in every employment of life.

For want of knowing, or at least of considering this, we see such a mixture of ridicule in the lives of many people. You see them strict as to some times and places of devotion; but when the service of the church is over, they are like those who seldom or never come there. In their way of life, their manner of spending both time and money, in their cares and fears, in their pleasures and indulgences, in their labours and diversions, they are like the rest of the world. This makes the loose part of the world generally make a jest of those that are thus seemingly devout; not altogether it may be because they are really devoted to God, but because they appear to have no other devotion, but that of occasional prayers.

Julius is very fearful of missing prayers; all the parish suppose Julius to be sick, if he is not at church. But if you ask him, why he spends the rest of his time by humour or chance? Why he is busy at all balls and assemblies?

Why he gives himself up to an idle gossipping conversation? If you ask him, why he never puts his conversation, his time, and fortune, under the rules of religion? Julius has no more to say for himself, than the most disorderly person. For he that lives in such a course of idleness and folly, lives no more according to the religion of Jesus Christ, than he who lives in gluttony and intemperance.

Our blessed Saviour and his Apostles did not spend their whole ministry in recommending the duties of public and private prayers; though by their example and precepts they recommended and enforced both; but it is worthy our observation, that after they had laid down a lively faith in God's

mercy through Jesus Christ, as the foundation, they were chiefly taken up in delivering doctrines which relate to common life. For they call upon us "to renounce the world, so as not to be conformed to it: To fear none of its evils, to reject its joys, and have no value for its happiness: To be as newborn babes, that are born into a new state of things; to live as pilgrims, in spiritual watching, in holy fear, and heavenly aspirations after another life:

To take up our daily cross, to deny ourselves, to profess the blessedness of holy mourning, and poverty of spirit: To reject the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, so as not to follow or be led by them: To take no anxious thought for the morrow; to live in the profoundest state of humility; to rejoice in worldly sufferings and injuries, when it pleases God to bring them upon us; to forgive and bless our enemies, and to love mankind in the same manner, though not degree, as God loves them. In short, to give up our whole hearts and affections to God, even a God in Christ, and to strive to enter through the strait gate of a sound conversion into a life of eternal glory."

This is the common devotion, which our blessed Saviour and his Apostles taught, in order to make it the common life of all Christians. But yet, though it is thus plain, that this, and this alone, is true Christianity, yet it is as plain, that there is little or nothing of this to be found, not only among professed rakes, but even among the better and more sober sort of people. You may see them often at public worship, and the Lord's table, and hear them talking of grace and religion, and find them pleased with orthodox preachers; but look into their lives, and you see them just the same sort of people as others are, who make no pretences to devotion at all. So that the difference that you find between them, seems to be only the difference of natural tempers, or the effect of a polite and civilized education.

Leo has a great deal of good nature, has kept what they call good company, hates every thing that is false and base, is very generous and brave to his friends, but has concerned himself so little with religion, that he hardly knows the difference between a Jew and a Christian.

Eusebius, on the other hand, has had early impressions of religion, sometimes prays extempore, and buys books of devotion, and receives the blessed sacrament once a month. He can talk of all the doctrines of grace, is acquainted with the true state of the controversy between the Calvinists and Arminians, knows all the feasts and fasts of the church, and the names of most men that have been eminent for piety. You never hear him swear, or make a loose jest, and when he talks of religion, he talks of it, as a matter of the last concern.

Here you see, that one person has religion enough, according to the way of the world, to be reckoned a pious Christian; and the other is so far from all appearance of religion, that he may fairly be reckoned an heathen; and yet if you look into their common life, you will find Eusebius and Leo exactly alike; seeking, using, and enjoying, all that can be gotten in this world, in the same manner, and for the same ends, even to please themselves, without any prevailing habitual regard to the glory of God. You will find that riches, prosperity, pleasures, indulgences, state, equipage, and honour, are just as much the happiness of Eusebius, as they are of Leo.

And must not all who are capable of any reflection, readily acknowledge, that this is generally the state even of what we commonly term devout people, whether men or women? You may see them different from some others, as to times and places of worship, receiving the sacrament, and with a doctrinal knowledge of the form of sound words; but usually like the rest of the world in all the other parts of their lives. Is it not notorious, that

Christians are now not only like other men in their frailties and infirmities, (this might be in some degree excusable, since the scriptures inform us, that Elijah was a man of like passions with others) but are they not like heathens, in all the main and chief articles of their lives? Do they not enjoy the world, and live every day with the same indulgence as they did who knew not God, nor of any happiness in another life?

And yet, if Christianity has not changed a man's mind and temper, with relation to these things, what can we say that it has done for him? For if the doctrines of Christianity were universally practised, they would make a man as different from other people, as to all worldly tempers, sensual pleasures, and the pride of life, as a wise man is different from an ideot; and it would be almost as easy a thing to know a true professor of Christianity, by his outward course of life, as it is now difficult to find any body that lives it.

1. By Letter 640, Volume II. page 144. it appears that this tract was written about June 1748.

CHAPTER II.

P ersons free from the necessities of labour and employments, are to consider themselves as devoted to God in a higher degree.

AS it has been proved in the foregoing chapter, that all professors of Christianity, do lie under manifold obligations to live a life wholly devoted unto God; so those who have no particular employment, but have their time and fortune at their own disposal, are under still greater obligations of living wholly unto God in all their actions.

They are those, of whom "much will be required, because much is given unto them."

A slave can only live unto God in one particular way; that is, by religious patience and submission in his state of slavery; but all ways of holy living, all instances, and all kinds of virtue lie open to those, who are masters of themselves, of their time, and their fortune.

You are no labourer or tradesman; you are neither merchant nor soldier; should you not therefore consider yourself, as placed in a state, in some degree like that of good angels, who are sent into the world as ministring

spirits, for the general good of mankind, to assist, protect, and minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?

Had you, Serena, been obliged by the necessities of life, to wash cloaths for your maintenance, or to wait upon some mistress, that demanded all your labour, it would then be your duty to serve and glorify God, by such humility, obedience, and faithfulness, as might adorn that state, and improve that one talent to its greatest height: but as God hath given you five talents; as he hath placed you above the necessities of life; as he hath left you in the hands of yourself, in the happy liberty of chusing the most exalted ways of religion; so it is now your duty and privilege to turn your five talents into five more; to set no bounds to your love and gratitude to the bountiful Author of so many blessings; and to consider how your time, leisure, health, and fortune, may be made so many happy means of improving your fellow-creatures in the ways of God, and of advancing yourself, through grace, at last to the greatest heights of eternal glory.

This, Serena, is indeed your profession: and the reason of this will appear very plain, if you would only consider, that your estate is as much the gift of God, as your eyes or hands; and is therefore no more to be buried or thrown away at pleasure, than you are to put out your eyes, or throw away your limbs as you please.

But besides these considerations, there are several other great and important reasons, why all Christians in general, and such as I am now speaking of in particular, should be religiously exact in the use of their fortunes for the glory of God.

For the manner of using our money, and spending our estate, enters so far into the business of every day, that our common life must necessarily be much of the same nature as our common way of spending our estate. If we

waste it, we do not waste a trifle, that signifies little; but we waste that which might be made as eyes to the blind, as a husband to the widow, as a father to the orphan; and which, if given in faith, and out of love to Jesus

Christ, would greatly increase our reward in a future state. "Make to yourselves friends (says our Saviour) of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when you fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations." What still adds weight to these arguments, is this, if we waste our money, and do not improve our fortunes for the glory of God, and the good of our fellowcreatures, we are not only guilty of wasting a talent which God has given us, and making that useless which might be so powerful a means of doing good, but we turn this useful talent into a powerful means of corrupting ourselves. For so far as it is spent wrong, so far it is spent in the support of some wrong temper, in gratifying some vain and unreasonable desires, in conforming to those fashions, and that pride of the world, which as reasonable men and Christians we are obliged to renounce. If therefore, you do not spend your money in doing good to others, you must spend it to the hurt of yourself. And you will act like a man that refuses to give that as a cordial to a sick friend, though he could not drink it himself, without not only inflaming, but corrupting his whole mass of blood.

It may be worth our while to pursue this thought a little further. For as we are now discoursing about people in the polite world, and of good fortunes, who we may suppose do not live in gross sins, but only in the indiscreet and dangerous use of things innocent and lawful in themselves, so it is more difficult to make such people at all sensible of the danger of such a life.

A gentleman that spends great part of his estate in sports, and a woman that lays out all her fortune upon herself, can hardly be persuaded, that the spirit of religion cannot subsist in such a way of life. Much less will they be

easily convinced, that such a turn of mind, however they may live free from debaucheries, and be friends of religion, so far as to praise, speak well of, and admire it in their imaginations, will give a bad turn to their whole way of life. But it is certainly so.

A woman, for instance, that loves dress, who thinks no expence too great to bestow upon the adorning of her person, cannot stop there. For that single temper draws a thousand other follies along with it; and will render the whole course of her life, her business, her conversation, her hopes, her fears, her taste, her pleasures, and diversions, all suitable to it. On the contrary, a lady who is habitually dead to the things of the world, and has devoted her time and fortune to God; such a one will let her whole life be a continued series of good actions, as may benefit her own and others souls, and consequently adorn the gospel of her Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

Flavia, and Miranda, are two maiden sisters, that have each of them two hundred pounds a year. They buried their father twenty years ago, and have since that time spent their estate as they pleased.

Flavia has been the wonder of all her friends, for her excellent management, in making so surprizing a figure with so moderate a fortune.

Several ladies that have twice her fortune, are not able to be always so genteel, and so constant at all places of what she calls innocent pleasure and expence. She has every thing in the fashion, and is in every place where there is any diversion. Flavia is very orthodox; she talks warmly against heretics and schismatics, is generally at church, and often at the sacrament.

She once commended a sermon that was against the pride and vanity of dress, and thought it was very just against Lucinda, whom she takes to be a great deal finer than she need to be. Should any one ask Flavia to do something in charity; if she likes the person who makes the proposal, or

happens to be in a right temper, she will toss him half a crown or a crown, and tell him, that if he knew what a long millener's bill she had just received, he would think it a great deal for her to give. A quarter of a year after this, she hears a sermon upon the necessity of charity; she thinks the man preaches well, that it is a very proper subject, and that people want much to be put in mind of it; but she applies nothing to herself, because she remembers that she gave a crown some time ago, when she could so ill spare it.

As for poor people, she will admit of no complaints from them; she is very positive they are all cheats and liars, and will say any thing to get relief, and therefore it must be a sin to encourage them in their evil ways.

You would think that Flavia had the tenderest conscience in the world, if you was to see how scrupulous and apprehensive she is of the guilt and danger of giving amiss.

She buys all books of wit and humour, and has made an expensive collection of all our English Poets; for she says, one cannot have a true taste of any of them, without being very conversant with all.

She will sometimes read a book of piety, if it is a short one, and if it is much commended for stile and language, and she can tell where to borrow it.

Flavia is very idle, and yet very fond of fine work: this makes her very often sit working in bed until noon, and will be told many a long story before she is up; so that I need not tell you, that her morning devotions are not always rightly performed.

Flavia would be a miracle of piety, if she was but half so careful of her soul, as she is of her body. The rising of a pimple in her face, or the sting of a gnat, will make her keep her room two or three days; and she thinks they

are very rash people, that do not take care of things in time. This makes her so over careful of her health, that she never thinks she is well enough; and so over indulgent, that she never can be really well. So that it costs her a great deal in sleeping draughts, and waking draughts, in spirits for the head, in drops for the nerves, in cordials for the stomach, and in saffron for her tea.

If you visit Flavia on the Lord's day, you will always meet good company; you will know what is doing in the world, and who is meant by every name that is in it. You will hear what plays were acted that week, and which is the finest song in the opera; who was intolerable at the last assembly, and what games are most in fashion. Flavia thinks they are

Atheists who play at cards on the Sunday; but she will tell you the nicety of all the games, what cards she held, how she played them, and the history of all that happened at play, as soon as she comes from church. If you would know who is rude and ill-natured, who is vain and foppish, who lives too high, and who is in debt; if you would know what is the quarrel at a certain house, or who and who are in love; if you would know how late Belinda comes home at night, what cloaths she has bought, how she loves compliments, and what a long story she told at such a place; if you would know how cross Lucius is to his wife, and what ill-natured things he says to her, when no body hears him; if you would know how they hate one another in their hearts, though they appear so kind in public; you must visit Flavia on the Sunday. But still, she has so great a regard for the holiness of the Sunday, that she has turned a poor old widow out of her house, as a prophane wretch, for having been found once mending her cloaths on the Sunday night.

Thus lives Flavia; and if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent about fifteen hundred and sixty Sundays after this manner; and she will have worn about two hundred different suits of cloaths. Out of these thirty years of her life, fifteen of them will have been disposed of in bed; and of the remaining fifteen, about fourteen of them will have been consumed in eating, drinking, dressing, visiting, conversation, reading and hearing plays and romances, and attending at operas, assemblies, balls and diversions. For you may reckon all the time she is up, to be thus spent, except about an hour and a half, that is disposed of at church, most Sundays in the year.

With great management, and under mighty rules of œconomy, she will have spent six thousand pounds upon herself, except some few shillings, crowns or half crowns, that have gone from her in accidental charities.

I shall not take upon me to say, that it is impossible for Flavia ever to be saved; but thus much must be said, that she has no grounds from scripture to think she is at present in the way of salvation. For her whole life is in direct opposition to all those tempers and practices, which the gospel has made necessary to salvation.

If you was to hear her say, that she had lived all her life like Anna the prophetess, "who departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day," you would look upon her as very extravagant; and yet this would be no greater an extravagance, than for her to say, that she had been "striving to enter in at the strait gate," or making any one doctrine or precept of the gospel, a rule of her life.

She may as well say, that she lived with our Saviour when he was upon earth, as that she has lived in imitation of him, or made it any part of her care to live in such tempers, as he required of all those that would be his disciples. She may as truly say, that she has every day washed the Saints

feet, as that she has lived in Christian humility and poverty of spirit; and as reasonably think, that she has taught a charity school, as that she has lived in works of charity. She hath as much reason to think, that she has been a centinel in an army, as that she has lived in watching and self-denial. And it may as fairly be said, that she had lived by the labour of her hands, as that she had given all diligence to make her calling and election sure.

Now though the irregular trifling spirit of this character, belongs I hope but to few people, yet many may here learn some instruction from it, and perhaps see something of their own spirit in it.

But not so Miranda (the sister of Flavia); she is a sober reasonable Christian. As soon as she was mistress of her time and fortune, it was her first thought, how she might best fulfil every thing that God required of her in the use of them, and how she might make the best and happiest use of this short life. She depends upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath said, "that there is but one thing needful," and therefore makes her whole life but one continual labour after it. She has but one reason for doing or not doing, for liking or not liking any thing, and that is the will of God. She is not so weak, as to pretend to add, what is frequently falsely called the fine lady, to the true Christian; Miranda thinks too well, to be taken with the sound of such silly words; she has renounced the world, to follow Christ in the exercise of humility, charity, devotion, abstinence, and heavenly affections; and that is Miranda's fine breeding.

Whilst she was under her mother, she was forced to live in ceremony, to sit up late at night, to be in the folly of every fashion, and always visiting on Sundays; to go patched, and loaded with a burden of finery, to the holy sacrament; to be in every polite conversation; to hear prophaneness at the play-house, and wanton songs and love intrigues at the opera; to dance at

public places, that fops and rakes might admire the fineness of her shape, and the beauty of her motions. The remembrance of this way of life is very grievous to her, and makes her exceeding careful to give evidences of her unfeigned repentance, by a contrary behaviour.

Miranda does not divide her duty between God, her neighbour, and herself; but she considers all as due to God, and so does every thing in his name and for his sake. This makes her consider her fortune as the gift of God, that is to be used as is every thing that belongs to God, for the wise and reasonable ends of a Christian and holy life: her fortune therefore is divided between herself and the poor, and she has only her reasonable part of relief from it. For she thinks it the same folly to indulge herself in needless, vain expences, as to give to other people to spend in the same way.

This is the spirit of Miranda, and thus she uses the gifts of God. If you was to see her, you would wonder who it was that was so surprizing and unaffectedly neat and clean; for every thing about her resembles the purity of her soul, and she is always clean without, because she always studies to be pure within.

Every morning sees her early at her prayers; she rejoices in the beginning of every day, because it begins all her pious rules of holy living, and brings the fresh pleasure of repeating them. She seems to be as a guardian angel to those that dwell about her, with her watchings and prayers blessing the place where she dwells, and making intercession with God for those that are asleep.

Her devotions have had some intervals, and she has had reason to think that God hath answered several of her private prayers, before the light hath entered into her sister's room. Miranda does not know what it is to have a

dull half-day; the returns of her hours of prayer, and her religious exercises, come too often to let any considerable part of time lie heavy upon her hands.

When you see her at work, you see the same wisdom that governs all her other actions; she is either doing something that is necessary for herself, or necessary for others, who want to be assisted. Her wise and pious mind neither wants the amusement, nor can bear with the folly of idle and impertinent work; she can admit of no such folly as this in the day, because she is to call herself to an account for all her actions in her secret retirement at night.

At her table she lives strictly by this rule of holy scripture, "whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." This makes her begin and end every meal, as she begins and ends every day, with acts of devotion: she does not indeed weigh her meat in a pair of scales, but she weighs it in a much better balance; so much as gives a proper strength to her body, and renders it able and willing to obey the soul, is Miranda's meal.

The holy scriptures, especially of the New Testament, are her daily study.

When she has this in her hand, she supposes herself at the feet of our Saviour and his apostles, and receives their sacred words with as much attention and reverence, as if she saw their persons, and knew that they were just come from heaven, on purpose to teach her the way that leads to it. Nor does she content herself barely with reading the scriptures; but in reading, constantly casts her eye upon herself, and tries herself by every doctrine that is there, because she thinks this is the only possible way to be ready for her trial at the last day.

Books also of devotion, and especially such as enter into the heart of religion, and describe the inward holiness of the Christian life, have such a large place in her closet, that she is sometimes afraid that she lays out too much money in them, because she cannot forbear buying all the practical books of any note. But of all human writings, the lives of pious persons, and eminent saints, are her greatest delight. In these she searches as for hidden treasure, hoping to find some secret of holy living, some uncommon degree of piety, which she may make her own. By this means, Miranda has her head and heart stored with all the principles of wisdom and holiness, and if you are in her company, when she thinks proper to talk, you must be made wiser and better, whether you will or not.

To relate her charity, would be to relate the history of every day for twenty years past. She has set up near twenty poor tradesmen who had failed in their business, and saved as many from failing. She has educated several poor children, that were picked up in the streets, and put them in a way of honest employment. As soon as any labourer is confined at home with sickness, she sends to him, till he recovers, twice the value of his wages, that he may have one part to give to his family as usual, and the other to provide things convenient for his sickness.

If a family seems too large to be supported by the labour of those in it that can work, she pays their rent, and gives them something yearly towards their cloathing. By this means there are many poor families which live in a comfortable manner, and are from year to year blessing her in their prayers.

If there is any poor man or woman, that is more than ordinarily wicked and reprobate, Miranda has her eye upon them, and if she can discover that they are in any great streights or affliction, she gives them speedy relief.

She has this care for this sort of people, not only because she once saved a

very profligate person from being carried to prison, who immediately became a true penitent, but because she believes that a tenderness of affection towards the most abandoned sinners, is every where represented in the gospel as the highest instance of a divine and godlike soul.

Miranda once passed by a house, where the man and his wife were cursing and swearing at one another in a most dreadful manner, and three children crying about them; this sight so much affected her compassionate mind, that she went the next day, and even bought the three children, that they might not be ruined by living with such wicked parents. They now live with Miranda, are blessed with her care and prayers, and all the good works that she can do for them. They hear her talk, they see her live, and join with her in psalms and prayers. The eldest of them has already been an instrument of converting his parents from their wicked life, and shews a turn of mind so remarkably pious, that Miranda intends him for holy orders; that being thus saved himself, he may be zealous in the salvation of souls, and do to other miserable objects, as she has done to him.

Miranda is a constant relief to poor people in their misfortunes and accidents; for there are sometimes little misfortunes that happen to them, which of themselves they could never be able to overcome: the death of a cow, or a horse, or some little robbery, would keep them in distress all their lives. She does not suffer them to lie grieving under such accidents as these.

She immediately gives them the full value of their loss, and makes use of it as a means of raising their minds towards God.

She has a great tenderness for old people that are grown past their labour.

The parish allowance (Miranda says) to such people, is very seldom a comfortable maintenance. For this reason, they are the constant objects of her care; she adds so much to their allowance, as somewhat exceeds the

wages they got when they were young. This she does to comfort them under the infirmities of their age, that being free from trouble and distress they may serve God in peace and tranquillity of mind. She has generally a large number of this kind, who by her charities, and exhortations to holiness, spend their last days in great piety and devotion.

Miranda never wants compassion even to common beggars; especially those that are old or sick, or full of sores, and that want eyes or limbs.

Miranda considers that Lazarus was a common beggar, that notwithstanding he was the care of angels, and carried into Abraham's bosom. She considers that our blessed Saviour and his apostles, were kind to beggars; that they spoke comfortably to them, healed their diseases, and restored eyes and limbs to the lame and blind. She therefore hears their complaints with tenderness, and never bids them go to the place from whence they came, or tells them that she cannot relieve them because they may be cheats, or that they are strangers; but she relieves them for that very reason because they are strangers; and though she cannot, like our Saviour and his Apostles, work miracles for their relief, yet she remembers the words of our Lord, "I was a stranger and ye took me in," and can say with St. Peter, "such as I have, give I unto you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth."

It may be, says Miranda, that I may sometimes give to those who do not deserve it. But where, says she, has the scripture made merit to be the rule or measure of my charity? On the contrary, does not the scripture speak on this wise, "if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink."

And if I am to love and do good to my worst enemies, surely I am not to deny alms to poor beggars, whom I neither know to be bad people, nor any way my enemies? Does not God make his sun to rise on the evil and on the

good? Is not this the very goodness that is recommended to us in scripture? that by imitating it, "we may be children of our father who is in heaven, who sendeth rain on the just and the unjust."

Perhaps you will reply, "By this means I encourage people to be beggars."

But may not the same objection be made against all kinds of charities, for they may encourage people to depend upon them? May not the same be said against forgiving our enemies, cloathing the naked, or giving medicines to the sick? for in so doing we may encourage people to do us hurt or neglect themselves, and be careless of their health. Such thoughtless objections, says Miranda, I once urged myself, when in a state of unregeneracy: but since the love of God has dwelt in me, and enlarged my heart, I have been filled with bowels of compassion; and as I daily pray for all, so far as I can,

I give to all. And I cannot refuse an alms to those, whom I pray God to bless, and whom I wish to be partakers of eternal glory. I look on those who come to ask my alms, as so many friends and benefactors, that come to do me a greater good than they can receive from me; that come to exalt my graces, and be witnesses of my charity; to be monuments of my love, and put it in my power of proving the truth of that glorious declaration "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

This is the spirit, and this is the life of the devout Miranda; and if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent six-thousand pounds in charity; for that which she allows herself, may fairly be reckoned amongst her alms.

When she dies, she must shine amongst Apostles, saints and martyrs, she must stand amongst the first servants of God, and be glorious amongst those that have fought the good fight, and finished their course with joy.

"He that hath ears to hear let him hear."

CHAPTER III.

A n enquiry into the first and chief reason, why the generality of Christians fall so far short of the holiness and devotion of Christianity.

SINCE Christian devotion is nothing less than a life wholly devoted unto God, and persons who are free from the necessities of labour and employments, are to consider themselves as devoted to God in a higher degree; it may now reasonably be enquired, how it comes to pass, that the lives even of the moral and better sort of people, are in general so directly contrary to the principles of Christianity? I answer, because the generality of those that call themselves Christians, are destitute of a true living faith in Jesus Christ; for want of which they never effectually intended to please

God in all the actions of life, as the happiest and best thing in the world.

To be partaker of such a faith, is every where represented in scripture, as a fundamental and necessary part of true piety. For without a living faith in the righteousness of Jesus Christ, our persons cannot be justified, and consequently none of our performances acceptable in the sight of God. It is

this faith that enables us to overcome the world, and to devote ourselves without reserve to promote the glory of Him, who has loved and given himself for us. And therefore it is purely for want of such a faith, that you see such a mixture of sin and folly in the lives even of the better sort of people: It is for want of this faith, that you see clergymen given to pride, and covetousness, and worldly enjoyments: It is for want of such a faith that you see women who profess devotion, yet living in all the folly and vanity of dress, wasting their time in idleness and pleasures, and in all such instances of state and equipage as their estate will reach. Let but a woman feel her heart full of this faith, and she will no more desire to shine at balls and assemblies, or to make a figure among those that are most finely dressed, than she will desire to dance upon a rope to please spectators. For she will then know that the one is as far from the true nature, wisdom, and excellency of the Christian spirit, as is the other.

Let a clergyman be but thus pious, and he will converse as if he had been brought up by an Apostle; he will no more think and talk of noble preferment, than of noble eating, or a glorious chariot. He will no more complain of the frowns of the world, or a small cure, or the want of a patron, than he will complain of the want of a laced coat, or of a running horse. Let him but have such a faith in love for God, as will constrain him to make it his business to study to please God in all his actions, as the happiest and best thing in the world, and then he will know, that there is nothing noble in a clergyman, but burning zeal for the salvation of souls; nor any thing poor in his profession but idleness and a worldly spirit.

Further, let a tradesman but have such a faith, and it will make him a saint in his shop; his every day business will be a course of wise and reasonable actions, made holy to God, by flowing from faith, proceeding from love,

and by being done in obedience to his will and pleasure. He will therefore not chiefly consider, what arts or methods or application will soonest make him greater and richer than his brethren, that he may remove from a shop, to a life of state and pleasure; but he will chiefly consider, what arts, what methods, and what application can make worldly business most conducive to God's glory, and his neighbour's good; and consequently make a life of trade, to be a life of holiness, devotion, and undissembled piety.

It was this faith that made the primitive Christians such eminent instances of religion; and that made the goodly fellowship of the saints in all ages, and all the glorious army of confessors and martyrs. And if we will stop and ask ourselves, why we are not as pious as the primitive Christians, and saints of old were? our own hearts must tell us, that it is because we never yet perhaps earnestly sought after, and consequently were never really made partakers of, that precious faith, whereby they were constrained to intend to please God in all their actions, as the best and happiest thing in the world.

Here then let us judge ourselves sincerely; let us not vainly content ourselves with the common disorders of our lives, the vanity of our expences, the folly of our diversions, the pride of our habits, the idleness of our lives, and the wasting of our time; fancying that these are only such imperfections as we necessarily fall into, through the unavoidable weakness and frailty of our nature; but let us be assured that these habitual disorders of our common life, are so many demonstrable proofs, that we never yet truly accepted of the Lord Jesus and his righteousness by a living faith, and never really intended, as a proof and evidence of such a faith, to please God in all the actions of our life, as the best thing in the world.

Though this be a matter that we can easily pass over at present, whilst the health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise, and hurry, and

pleasures, and business of the world, lead us on with "eyes that see not, and ears that hear not:" yet at death, it will set itself before us in a dreadful magnitude; it will haunt us like a dismal ghost, and our consciences will never let us take our eyes from it, unless they are seared as with a red hot iron, and God shall have given us over to a reprobate mind.

Penitens was a busy notable tradesman, and very prosperous in his dealings; but died in the thirty-fifth year of his age.

A little before his death, when the doctors had given him over, some of his neighbours came one evening to see him; at which time he spake thus to them.

I see, (says he) my friends, the tender concern you have for me, by the grief that appears in your countenances, and I know the thoughts that you now have of me. You think how melancholy a case it is, to see so young a man, and in such flourishing business, delivered up to death. And perhaps, had I visited any of you in my condition, I should have had the same thoughts of you. But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more like your thoughts, than my condition is like yours. It is no trouble to me now to think that I am to die young, or before I have raised an estate. These things are sunk into such mere nothings, that I have no name little enough to call them by. For if in a few days, or hours, I am to leave this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find myself either for ever happy in the favour of God, or eternally separated from all light and peace; can any words sufficiently express the littleness of every thing else?

Is there any dream, like the dream of life, which amuses us with the neglect and disregard of these things? Is there any folly like the folly of our manly state, which is too wise and busy to be at leisure for these reflections?

When we consider death as a misery, we generally think of it as a miserable separation from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom mourn over an old man that dies rich, but we lament the young, that are taken away in the progress of their fortunes. You yourselves look upon me with pity, not that you think I am going unprepared to meet the Judge of quick and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in the flower of my life.

This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts. And yet what folly of the silliest children, is so great as this? For what is there miserable or dreadful in death, but the consequences of it? When a man is dead, what does any thing signify to him, but the state he is then in?

Our poor friend Lepidus, you know died as he was dressing himself for a feast; do you think it is now part of his trouble, that he did not live till that entertainment was over? Feasts, and business, and pleasures and enjoyments, seem great things to us, whilst we think of nothing else; but as soon as we add death to them, they all sink into littleness not to be expressed; and the soul that is separated from the body, no more laments the loss of business, than the losing of a feast.

If I am now going to the joys of God, could there be any reason to grieve, that this happened to me before I was forty years of age. Can it be a sad thing to go to heaven, before I have made a few more bargains, or stood a little longer behind a counter?

And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could there be any reason to be content, that this did not happen to me till I was old and full of riches.

If good angels were ready to receive my soul, could it be any grief to me that I was dying on a poor bed in a garret?

And if God has delivered me up to evil spirits, to be dragged by them to places of torment, could it be any comfort to me, that they found me upon a

bed of state? When you are as near death as I am, you will know, that all the different states of life, whether of youth or age, riches or poverty, greatness or meanness, signify no more to you, than whether you die in a poor or stately apartment.

The greatness of the things which follow death, makes all that goes before it sink into nothing.

Now, that judgment is the next thing which I look for, and everlasting happiness or misery is come so near to me, all the enjoyments and prosperities of life seem as vain and insignificant, and to have no more to do with my happiness, than the cloaths that I wore when I was a little child.

What a strange thing! that a little health, or the poor business of a shop, should keep us so senseless of these great things that are coming so fast upon us!

Just as you came into my chamber, I was thinking with myself, what numbers of souls there are in the world, in my condition at this very time, surprized with a summons to the other world: some taken from their shops and farms, others from their sports and pleasures; these at suits at law, those at gaming-tables; some on the road, others at their own fire-sides; and all seized at an hour when they thought nothing of it; frighted at the approach of death; confounded at the vanity of all their labours, designs, and projects; astonished at the folly of their past lives, and not knowing which way to turn their thoughts, to find any comfort. Their consciences flying in their faces, bringing all their sins to remembrance, tormenting them with the deepest convictions of their own folly, presenting them with the sight of the angry Judge, and the worm that never dies, the fire that is never quenched, the gates of hell, the powers of darkness, and the bitter pains of eternal death.

O my friends! bless God that you are not of this number; and take this along with you, that there is nothing but a real faith in the Lord Jesus, and a life of true piety, or a death of great stupidity, that can keep off these apprehensions.

Had I now a thousand worlds, I would give them all for one moment's scriptural assurance that I had really received the Lord Jesus by a living faith into my heart, and for one year's more continuance in life, that I might evidence the sincerity of that faith, by presenting unto God, one year of such devotion and good works, as I am persuaded I have hitherto never done.

Perhaps, when you consider that I have lived free from scandal and debauchery, and in the communion of the church, you wonder to see me so full of remorse and self-condemnation at the approach of death.

But alas! what a poor thing is it, to have lived only free from murder, theft, and adultery, which is all that I can say of myself. Was not the slothful servant, that is condemned in the gospel, thus negatively good? And did not the Saviour of mankind tell the young man who led a more blameless and moral life than I have done, that yet one thing he lacked.

But the thing that now surprizes me above all wonders, is this, that till of late I never was convinced of that reigning soul-destroying sin of unbelief; and that I was out of a state of salvation, notwithstanding my negative goodness, my seemingly strict morality, and attendance on public worship and the holy sacrament. It never entered into my head or heart, that the righteousness of Jesus Christ alone, could recommend me to the favour of a sin avenging God, and that I must be born again of God, and have Christ formed in my heart, before I could have any well-grounded assurance that I

was a Christian indeed, or have any solid foundation whereon I might build the superstructure of a truly holy and pious life.

Alas! I thought I had faith in Christ, because I was born in a Christian country, and said in my creed, that "I believed on Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord." I thought I was certainly regenerate and born again, and was a real Christian, because I was baptized when I was young, and received the holy sacrament in my adult age. But alas! little did I consider that faith is something more than the world generally thinks of; a work of the heart, and not merely of the head, and that I must know and feel that there is no other name given under heaven whereby I can be saved, but that of Jesus Christ.

It is true indeed, you have frequently seen me at church and the sacrament; but alas, you little think what remorse of conscience I now feel for so frequently saying, "the remembrance of our sins is grievous unto us, and the burden of them is intolerable," when I never experienced the meaning of them in all my life. You have also seen me join with the minister when he said, "we do not approach thy table trusting on our own righteousness;" but all this while I was utterly ignorant of God's righteousness, which is by faith in Christ Jesus, and was going about to establish a righteousness of my own. It is true indeed, I have kept the fasts and feasts of the church, and have called Christ, Lord, Lord; but little did I think, that no one could call Christ truly Lord, but by the Holy Ghost. I have attended upon ordinations, and heard the Bishop ask the candidates,

"whether they were called by the Holy Ghost;" I have seriously attended to the minister, when he exhorted us to pray for true repentance and God's holy Spirit; but alas, I never enquired whether I myself had received the Holy Ghost to sanctify and purify my heart, and worked a true evangelical repentance in my soul. I have prayed in the litany that I might bring forth

the fruits of the Spirit, but alas, my whole life has been nothing but a dead life, a round of duties, and model of performances, without any living faith for their foundation. I have professed myself a member of the church of England; I have cried out, "The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord," and in my zeal have exclaimed against Dissenters; but little did I think, that I was ignorant all this while of most of her essential articles, and that my practice, as well as the want of a real experience of a work of regeneration and true conversion, when I was using her offices, and reading her homilies, gave my conscience the lie.

O my friends! a form of godliness without the power, and dead morality not founded on a living faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, is such a dreadful delusion, so contrary to the lively oracles of God, that did not I know

(though alas how late!) that the righteousness of Jesus Christ was revealed in them, and that there was mercy to be found with God, if we venture by a real faith on that righteousness, though at the eleventh hour, I must now sink into total despair.

Penitens was here going on, but had his mouth stopped by a convulsion, which never suffered him to speak any more. He lay convulsed about twelve hours, and then gave up the ghost.

Now if every reader would imagine this Penitens to have been some particular acquaintance or relation of his, and fancy that he saw and heard all which is here described; that he stood by his bed-side when his poor friend lay in such distress and agony, lamenting the want of a living faith in Jesus Christ, as the cause of a dead, lifeless, indevout life: if besides this, he should consider, how often he himself might have been surprized in the same formal dead state, and made an example to the rest of the world; this double reflection, both upon the distress of his friend, and the goodness of

that God, which ought to have led him to repentance, would in all likelihood set him upon seeking and earnestly praying for such a faith, of which Penitens felt himself void, and constrain him to let the Lord have no rest, till he should be pleased to apply the righteousness of his dear Son to his sin-sick soul, and enable him henceforward to study, out of love, to glorify him in all the actions of his future life, as the best and happiest thing in the world.

This therefore being so useful a meditation, I shall here leave the reader, I hope, seriously engaged in it.

CHAPTER IV.

S hewing, how the fear of being singular, and making the world their rule of action, is a second great cause, why so few devote themselves to God.

ANOTHER cause why so few devote themselves to God, is a fear of contempt from the world, and their making its modes and customs the general rule of all their actions.

The history of the gospel is chiefly the history of Christ's conquest over the world. And the number of true Christians, is only the number of those who following the Spirit of Christ, have lived, and do live, contrary to this spirit of the world.

"Whosoever is born of God, (says the apostle) overcometh the world. Set your affections on things above, and not on things on the earth; for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God."

This is the language of the whole New Testament; this is the mark of real Christianity. We are to be dead to the spirit and temper of the world, and live a new life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.

It was this, that made Saint Paul so passionately express himself, "God forbid, that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." But why does he glory? because his Christian profession had called him to the honour of suffering for Christ, and of dying to the world, under reproach and contempt, as the Lord Jesus had died upon the cross. Hence he immediately adds, "by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world."

Thus was the cross of Christ, in Saint Paul's time, the glory of Christians.

For he elsewhere asserts, speaking of Christians in general, that they are "to suffer, to be crucified, to die, and to rise with Christ;" or else his crucifixion, and death, and resurrection, will profit them nothing. As to his sufferings, says he, "if we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him."

As to his crucifixion and death, "Knowing that our old man is crucified with him. If we are dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him." And then as to the resurrection of Christ, says he, "If ye be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above." From all which texts it plainly appears, that our blessed Lord not only died and rose again in our stead, and as our federal head and representative, but that also if we are Christians indeed, we are to be conformed to all he did and suffered for us.

It was for this reason, that the holy Jesus said of his Disciples, and of all true believers, "they are not of this world, as I am not of this world."

Because, all true believers conforming to the sufferings, crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Christ, live no longer after the spirit and temper of this world, but "their life is hid with Christ in God."

How high this life is placed above the ways of the world, is wonderfully described by Saint Paul, in these words: "Wherefore, henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh;

yet henceforth know we him no more. Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

He that feels the force and spirit of these words, can hardly bear any human interpretation of them. "Henceforth, &c." that is, since the death and resurrection of Christ, the state of Christianity is become so glorious a state, that we do not even consider Christ himself as in the flesh upon earth, but as a God of glory in heaven; we know and consider ourselves not barely as men in the flesh, but as fellow members of a new society, that are to have all our hearts, our tempers and conversation in heaven.

Saint John plainly declares thus much: "They are of the world, therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth them; we are of God." This is his description of the followers of Christ; and it is proof enough, that no people are to be reckoned Christians in reality, who in their hearts and tempers belong to this world.

Saint Paul takes it for a certainty so well known to Christians, that they are no longer to be considered as living in this world, that he thus argues from it, as from an undeniable principle, concerning the abolishing the rites of the Jewish law: "Wherefore, if ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why as though living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances?" Here could be no argument in this, but in the Apostle's taking it for undeniable, that Christians knew, their profession required them to have done with all the tempers and passions of this world, and to live as citizens of the New Jerusalem, and to have their conversation in heaven.

Our blessed Lord himself has fully determined this point, in these words, "They are not of this world, as I am not of this world." This is the state of Christianity with regard to this world. If you are not thus out of and

contrary to the world, you want the distinguishing mark of Christianity: You do not belong to Christ, but by being out of the world as he was out of it.

We may deceive ourselves, if we please, with vain and softening comments upon these words; but they are and will be understood in their first simplicity and plainness, by every one who reads them in the same spirit that our blessed Lord spoke them. And to understand them in any lower and less significant meaning, is to let carnal wisdom explain away that doctrine, by which itself was to be destroyed.

But notwithstanding the clearness and plainness of these doctrines, which teach us thus to renounce the world, yet what a great part of Christians do live and die slaves to the customs and temper of the world.

How many people swell with pride and vanity for such things as they would not know how to value at all? but that they are admired in the world.

Would a man take ten years more drudgery in business to add two horses more to his coach, but that he knows, the world most of all admires a coach and six?

To abound in wealth, to have fine houses and rich cloaths, to be attended with splendor and equipage, to be beautiful in our persons, to have titles of dignity, to be above our fellow-creatures, to command the bows and obeisance of other people, to be looked on with admiration, to pursue our enemies with revenge, to subdue all that oppose us, to set ourselves in as much splendor as we can, to live highly and magnificently, to eat and drink, and delight ourselves in the most costly manner; these are the great, the honourable, the desirable things, to which the spirit of the world turns the eyes of all people; and many a one is afraid of standing still, and not engaging in the pursuit of these things, lest the same world should take him for a fool.

Many a man would often drop a resentment, and forgive an affront, but that he is afraid the world would not forgive him.

How many would practice Christian temperance and sobriety in its utmost extent, were it not for the censure which the world passes upon such a life?

Thus do the impressions which we have received from living in the world enslave our minds, so that we dare not attempt to be eminent in the sight of God, and holy angels, for fear of being little in the eyes of the world.

You will perhaps say, that the world is now become Christian, at least that part of it where we live; and therefore the world is not now to be considered in that state of opposition to Christianity, as when it was heathen.

It is granted, the world now professeth Christianity. But will any one say, that this Christian world is of the spirit of Christ? are its general tempers the tempers of Christ? are the passions of sensuality, self-love, pride, covetousness, ambition, and vain-glory, less contrary to the spirit of the gospel, now they are amongst Christians, than when they were among heathens? Or will you say, that the tempers and passions of the heathen world are lost and gone?

The world is fully described to our hands by Saint John. "All that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life," &c.

Now will you say, that this world is become Christian? But if all this still subsists, then the same world is now in being, and the same enemy to Christianity that was in Saint John's days.

Had you lived with our Saviour, as his true disciple, you had then been hated as he was; and if you now live in his spirit, the world will be the same enemy to you now, that it was to him then.

"If ye were of the world, (saith our blessed Lord) the world would love its own; but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the

world, therefore the world hateth you."

We are apt to lose the true meaning of these words, by considering them only as an historical description of something that was the state of our

Saviour and his disciples at that time. But this is reading the scripture as a dead letter: for they as exactly describe the state of true Christians in this, and all other times, to the end of the world.

For as true Christianity is nothing else but the spirit of Christ, so whether that spirit appear in the person of Christ himself, or in his apostles, or followers in any age, it is the same thing: whoever hath his spirit, will be hated, despised, and condemned by the world, as he was. For the world will always love its own, and none but its own: this is as certain and unchangeable, as the contrariety between light and darkness.

When the holy Jesus saith, "If the world hate you," he does not add by way of consolation, that it may some time or other cease its hatred, or that it will not always hate them; but he only gives this as a reason for their bearing it, "You know that it hated me, before it hated you:" signifying, that it was he, or his spirit, that by reason of its contrariety to the world, was then, and always would be hated by it.

Whether, therefore, the world outwardly professeth, or openly persecuteth Christianity, it is still in the same state of contrariety to the true spirit and holiness of the gospel.

And indeed the world, by professing Christianity, is so far from being a less dangerous enemy than it was before, that it has by its favour destroyed more Christians, than ever it did by the most violent persecution.

It is a greater and more dangerous enemy, because it has greater power over Christians by its favours, riches, honours, rewards, and protections, than it had by the fire and fury of its persecutions.

It is a more dangerous enemy, by having lost its appearance of enmity.

And the change that the world has undergone, has only altered its methods, but not lessened its power of destroying religion.

Christians had nothing to fear from the heathen world, but the loss of their lives; but the world become a friend, makes it difficult for them to save their religion.

How many consciences are kept at quiet, upon no other foundation, but because they sin under the authority of the Christian world? How many directions of the gospel lie by unregarded, and how unconcernedly do particular persons read them? for no other reason, but because they seem unregarded by the Christian world. So that there is hardly any possibility of saving yourself from the present world, but by considering it as the same wicked enemy to all true holiness, as it is represented in the scriptures; and by assuring yourself, that it is as dangerous to conform to its tempers and passions, now it is Christian, as when it was heathen.

From this quarter, therefore, arises a great obstruction to a really devout life, because it cannot subsist in any person, but so far as he is dead to the world. And though human prudence seems to talk mighty wisely about the necessity of avoiding particularities, yet he that dares not be so weak as to be particular, will be often obliged to avoid the most substantial duties of Christian piety.

CHAPTER V.

S hewing that the education which men generally receive in their youth, makes a devout life difficult to be practised; and the spirit of a better education represented in the character of Paternus.

ANOTHER obstruction to a devout life, arises from our education. We are all of us, for the most part, corruptly educated, and then sent to take our course in a corrupt world: so that it is no wonder, if examples of true piety are so seldom seen.

Numbers are undone by being born and bred in families that have no religion; where they are made vicious and irregular, becoming like those with whom they first lived.

But this is not the thing I now mean; the education that I here intend, is such as children generally receive from virtuous and sober parents, and learned tutors and governors.

The first temper that we try to awaken in them is pride: as dangerous a passion as that of lust. We stir them up to vain thoughts of themselves, and

do every thing we can to puff up their minds with a sense of their own abilities.

Whatever way of life we intend them for, we apply to the fire and vanity of their minds; and exhort them to every thing from corrupt motives. We stir them up to action from principles of strife and ambition; from glory, envy, and a desire of distinction, that they may overtop all others, and shine above their neighbours in the world. Nay, we repeat and inculcate these motives upon them, till they think it a part of their duty to be proud, envious, and vain-glorious of their own accomplishments.

If children are intended for holy orders, we set before them some eminent orator, whose fine preaching has made him the admiration of the age, and carried him through all the dignities and preferments of the church. We encourage them to have these honours in their eye, and to expect the reward of their studies from them.

If the youth is intended for a trade, we bid him look at all the rich men of the same trade, and to consider how many are carried about in their stately coaches, who began in the same low degree as he now does. We awaken his ambition, and endeavour to give his mind a right turn, by often telling him how very rich such and such a tradesman died.

If he is to be a lawyer, then we set great counsellors, lords, judges, and chancellors, before his eyes. We tell him what great fees, and great applause, attend fine pleading; we exhort him to take fire at these things, and to be content with nothing less than the highest honours of the long robe.

That this is the nature of our best education, is too plain to need any proof; and yet after all this, we complain of the effects of pride; we wonder to see grown men acted and governed by ambition, envy, scorn, and a desire

of glory; not considering, that they were all the time of their youth, called upon to all their action and industry upon the same principles.

How dry and poor must the doctrines of self-denial, and deadness to the world, sound to a youth, that has been spurred up to all his industry, by ambition, envy, and a desire of glory and distinction? And if he is not to act by these principles when he is a man, why do we call him to act by them in his youth?

I know it is said in defence of this method of education; that ambition, and a desire of glory, are necessary to excite young people to industry; and that if we were to press upon them the doctrines of self-denial, and renunciation of the world, we should deject their minds, and sink them into dulness and idleness.

But such objectors do not consider, that this reason, if it has any strength, is full as strong against pressing the like doctrines upon grown men, lest we should deject their minds, and sink them into dulness and idleness.

For who does not see, that middle-aged men want as much the assistance of pride, ambition, and vain-glory, to spur them up to action and industry, as do children? And it is very certain, that the precepts of humility are more contrary to the designs of such men, and more grievous to their minds, when they are pressed upon them, than they are to the minds of young persons.

But further: could such objectors think, that if any children had been educated by our blessed Lord, or his Apostles, that their minds would have been sunk into dulness and idleness? Or could they think, that such children would not have been trained up in the profoundest principles of self-denial and true devotion? Can they say, that our blessed Lord, who, considering him in his human nature, was the most devout, self-denying man that ever

was on earth, was hindered by his devotion from doing the greatest example of worthy and glorious actions that ever were done by man? Can they say, that his Apostles, who lived in the same spirit of their Master, did therefore cease to be laborious and active instruments of doing good to all the world?

A few such reflections as these, are sufficient to expose all the poor pretences for an education in pride and ambition.

Paternus lived about two hundred years ago; he had but one son, whom he educated himself, in his own house. As they were sitting together in the garden, when the child was ten years old, Paternus thus addressed him.

"The little time that you have been in the world, my child, you have spent wholly with me; and my love and tenderness to you, has made you look upon me as your only friend and benefactor, and the cause of all the comfort and pleasure that you enjoy. Your heart, I know, would be ready to break with grief, if you thought this was the last day that I should live with you.

But, my child, though you now think yourself mighty happy, because you have hold of my hand, you are now in the hands, and under the tender care of a much greater father and friend than I am, whose love to you is far greater than mine, and from whom you receive such blessings as no mortal can give.

That God, whom you have seen me daily to worship; whom I daily call upon to bless both you and me, and all mankind; whose wondrous acts are recorded in those scriptures which you constantly read; that God, who created the heavens and the earth; who brought a flood upon the old world; who saved Noah in the ark; who was the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; whom Job blessed and praised in the greatest afflictions; who delivered the Israelites out of the hands of the Egyptians; who was the protector of righteous Joseph, Moses, Joshua, and holy Daniel; who sent so

many prophets into the world; and who sent his Son Jesus Christ to redeem mankind: this God, who has done all these great things; who has created the many millions of men, that lived and died before you was born; with whom the spirits of good men that are departed this life, now live; whom infinite numbers of angels now worship in heaven; this great God, who is the creator of worlds, of angels, and men, is your loving father and friend, your good creator and nourisher; from whom, and not from me, you received your being ten years ago, at the time that I planted that little elm which you there see.

I myself am not half the age of this shady oak under which we sit; many of our fathers have sat under its boughs; we have all of us called it ours in our turn; it stands, and drops its masters, as it drops its leaves.

You see, my son, this wide and large firmament over our heads, where the sun and moon, and all the stars, appear in their turn: if you was to be carried up to any of these bodies, you would discover others as much above you, as the stars are above this earth. Were you to go up or down, east or west, north or south, you would find the same height without any top, and the same depth without any bottom.

And yet, my child, so great is God, that all these bodies added together, are but as a grain of sand in his sight. Nevertheless, you are as much the care of this great God and Father of all worlds, and of all spirits, as if there were no creature for him to love and protect but you alone. He numbers the hairs of your head, watches over you sleeping and waking, and has preserved you from a thousand dangers, of which neither you nor I know any thing.

How poor my power is, and how little I am able to do for you, you have often seen. Your late sickness has shewn you how little I could do for you in

that state; and the frequent pains of your head are plain proofs, that I have no power to remove them.

I can bring you food and medicines, but have no power to turn them into your relief and nourishment: it is God alone that can do this for you.

Therefore, my child, fear, and worship, and love God. Secure an interest in his favour, by seeking after a living faith in Jesus Christ his dearly beloved Son; and then He, who blessed my father before I was born, will bless you when I am dead.

I shall in a short time die, and leave you to God and yourself; and as I know that my Redeemer liveth, and trust that God has forgiven me my sins,

I shall go to my dear Saviour Christ Jesus, and live amongst patriarchs and prophets, saints and martyrs, and wait for your safe arrival at the same place.

Therefore, my child, meditate on these great things, and your soul, through the influences of God's blessed Spirit, will soon grow great and noble, by so meditating upon them.

Let your thoughts often leave these gardens, these fields, and farms, to contemplate upon God, and Christ, and heaven, to meditate upon angels and the spirits of good men living in light and glory.

As you have been used to look to me in all your actions, and have been afraid to do any thing unless you first knew my will; so let it now be a rule of your life, to look up to God, even a God in Christ, in all your actions; to do every thing in his fear, and to abstain from every thing that is not according to his will.

God keepeth a book of life, wherein all the actions of all men are written; and when you die, my child, this book will be laid open before men and angels; and according as your actions are there found to have been done in,

and proceeded from a living faith in Jesus Christ, you will either be received into the happiness of those holy men who have died in faith, or be turned away among those wicked spirits, those hypocrites and unbelievers, that are never to see God any more.

Never forget this book, my son, for it must be opened, you must see it, and you must be tried by it according to the deeds done in the body, whether they have been good, or whether they have been evil.

But above all, my child, learn of Jesus Christ to be meek and lowly in heart, and never do any thing through strife or vain-glory. Resist, therefore, and look up to Christ for a conquest over every thought of self-pride and self-distinction; and accustom yourself to rejoice in all the excellencies and perfections of your fellow-creatures, and pray and study that you may be as glad to see any of their good actions, as your own. For as God is as well pleased with their well-doings, as with yours; so you ought to desire, that every thing that is wise, and holy, and good, may be performed in as high a manner by other people, as by yourself.

When I am dead, my son, you will be master of all my estate, which will be a great deal more than the necessities of one family require. As you are, therefore, to be charitable to the souls of men, and wish them the same happiness with yourself, in heaven, so be charitable to their bodies, and endeavour to make them as happy as you can upon earth.

Study to have your heart filled with the love of God, and the love of your neighbour, and then be contented to be no deeper a scholar, no finer a gentleman, than these tempers will make you. I am teaching you Latin and Greek, not that you should desire to be a great critic, a fine poet, or an eloquent orator; but, that you may at proper times look into the history of past ages, and learn the methods of God's providence over the world; and

that by reading the writings of the ancient sages, you may see how wisdom and virtue have been the praise of great men of all ages, and fortify your mind by their wise sayings.

Avoid all superfluous shews of finery and equipage, and let your house be furnished with moderate conveniencies. Do not consider what your estate can afford, but what right reason and religion require.

Let your dress be decent, clean, and modest; and as to your meat and drink, in them observe the highest rules of Christian temperance and sobriety; consider your body only as the servant and minister of your soul; and only so nourish it, as it may best perform an humble and obedient service to it.

But, my son, observe as a principal thing, and which I shall remind you of as long as I live with you, Hate and despise all human glory; it is nothing else but human folly. Love humility in all its instances, practise it in all its parts; condescend to all the weakness and infirmities of your fellowcreatures, cover their frailties, love their excellencies, encourage their virtues, relieve their wants, rejoice in their prosperities, compassionate their distress, receive their friendship, overlook their unkindness, forgive their malice, be a servant of servants, and condescend to do the lowest offices to the lowest of mankind.

Aspire after nothing but an interest in the righteousness of Jesus Christ; and as a consequence of that, your own purity and perfection. Remember, my dear child, remember, that there is but one man in the world, with whom you are to have perpetual contention, and whom you should be always striving to exceed, and that is yourself.

The time of practising these precepts, my son, will soon be over with you; the world will soon slip through your hands, or rather you will soon slip

through it. It seems but the other day, since I received the same instructions from my dear father, that I am now leaving with you. And the God that gave me ears to hear, and a heart to receive what my father said unto me, will, I hope, give you grace to love and follow the same instructions."

Thus did Paternus educate his son.

Can any one think, that such an education as this would weaken and deject the minds of young people, and deprive the world of any worthy and reasonable labours?

So far therefrom, that there is nothing so likely to enoble and exalt the mind, and prepare it for the most heroical exercise of all virtues. And fatal experience every day evinces, that a contrary way of educating youth, is no small hindrance to their devoting themselves entirely to God, and living up to the strictest rules of the blessed and everlasting gospel.

An education which is not wholly intent upon this, is as much beside the point, as an art of physic that had little or no regard to the restoration of health: or rather, it is like administering poison instead of physic.

For as the only end of the physician, is to restore nature to its own state; so the only end of education is, to restore our rational nature to its proper state. And as physic may justly be called the art of restoring health, so education should be considered in no other light, than as the art of recovering man to the use of reason and religion.

The youths that attended upon Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and Epictetus, were thus educated. And since Christianity hath, as it were, new created the moral and religious world, and set every thing that is reasonable, wise, holy, and desirable, in its true point of light; one may reasonably expect, that the education of youth should be as much bettered by Christianity, as the faith and doctrines of religion are amended by it.

But since our modern education is not of this kind, a deficiency in such an essential point, may be justly assigned as one great reason why many men find it so exceedingly difficult to devote themselves wholly unto God.

CHAPTER VI.

S hewing how the method of educating daughters, makes it difficult for them to enter into the spirit of Christianity; how miserably they are injured and abused by such an education; and the spirit of a better education represented in the character of Eusebia.

THAT turn of mind which is taught and encouraged in the education of daughters, makes it exceeding difficult for them to enter into such a sense and practice of true devotion, as the spirit of Christianity requires.

For if it were a virtue in a woman, to be proud and vain in herself, and fond of the world; we could hardly use better means to raise these passions, than those that are now used in their education.

Matilda is a fine woman, of good breeding, great sense, and has a great deal of regard for religion: she has three daughters, educated by herself; she will trust them to no one else, nor at any school, for fear they should learn any thing ill. She stays with the dancing-master all the time he is with them, because she will hear every thing that is said to them. She has heard them read the scriptures so often, that they can repeat great part of them without

book; and there is scarce a good book of devotion, but you may find it in their closets.

Her daughters see her great zeal for religion, but then they see an equal earnestness for all sorts of finery. They are afraid to meet her, if they have missed the church; but then they are more afraid to see her, if they are not laced as strait as they can possibly be.

Matilda is so intent upon all the arts of improving their dress, that she has some new fancy almost every day, and leaves no ornament untryed, from the richest jewel to the poorest flower. She is so nice and critical in her judgment, and so sensible of the smallest error, that her maid is often forced to dress and undress her daughters three or four times a day, before she can be satisfied with it.

As to the patching, she reserves that to herself; for she says, if they are not stuck on with judgment, they are rather a prejudice, than an advantage to the face.

The children see so plainly the temper of their mother, that they even affect to be more pleased with dress, than they really are, merely to gain her favour.

They saw the eldest sister once brought to her tears, and her perverseness severely reprimanded, for presuming to say, that she thought it was better to cover the neck, than to go so far naked as the modern dress requires.

She stints them in their meals, and is very scrupulous of what they eat and drink; and tells them how many fine shapes she has seen spoiled in her time, for want of such care. If a pimple rises in their faces, she is in a great fright, and they themselves are as afraid to see her with it, as if they had committed some great sin.

Whenever they begin to look sanguine and healthy, she calls in the assistance of the doctor; and if physic and issues will keep the complexion from inclining to coarse or ruddy, she thinks them well employed.

By this means they are pale, sickly, infirm creatures, vapoured through want of spirits, crying at the smallest accidents, swooning away at any thing that frightens them, and hardly able to bear the weight of their best cloaths.

The eldest daughter lived as long as she could under this discipline, and died in the twentieth year of her age. When she was opened, it appeared, that her ribs had grown into her liver, and that her other entrails were much hurt, by being crushed together with her stays, which her mother had ordered to be twitched so strait, that it often brought tears into her eyes, whilst the maid was dressing her.

Her youngest daughter is run away with a gamester, a man of great beauty, and who, in dressing and dancing, has no superior.

Matilda says, she should die with grief at this accident, but that her conscience tells her, she has contributed nothing to it herself. She appeals to their closets and their books of devotion, to testify what care she has taken to establish her children in a life of solid piety and devotion.

Now, though I do not intend to say, that no daughters are brought up in a better way than this (for I hope many are) yet thus much, I believe, may be said, that the much greater part of them are not brought up so well, or accustomed to so much religion, as in the present instance.

Their minds are turned as much to the care of beauty and dress, and the indulgence of vain desires, as in the present case, without having such rules of devotion to stand against it. So that if solid piety is much wanted in that sex, it is the plain and natural consequence of a vain and corrupt education.

If they are often too ready to receive the first fops, beaux, and fine dancers

for their husbands; it is no wonder they should like that in men, which they have been taught to admire in themselves. And if they are often seen to lose that little regard to religion, that they were taught in their youth, it is no more to be wondered at, than to see a little flower choaked and killed amongst rank weeds.

Personal pride, affectation, a delight in beauty, and fondness of finery, are tempers that must kill all religion in the soul, or be killed by it; they can no more thrive together than health and sickness.

But how possible it is to bring up daughters in a more excellent way, let the following character declare.

Eusebia is a pious widow, well born, and well bred, and has a good estate for five daughters, whom she loves not only as her natural, but also as her spiritual children; and they reverence her as their spiritual mother, with an affection equal to that of the fondest friends.

"My children, (says she) your dear father was an humble, watchful, truly devout man. Whilst his sickness would suffer him to talk with me, his discourse was chiefly about your education. He knew the ruins that a wrong education made in our sex; and therefore conjured me with the tenderest expressions, to renounce the fashionable ways of educating daughters, and to bring you all up in the most unaffected instances of a truly Christian and devout life.

When your father died, I was much pitied by my friends, as having all the care of a family, and the management of an estate fallen upon me. But my own grief was founded on another principle; I was grieved to see myself deprived of so faithful a friend, and that such an eminent example of real devotion, should be taken from the eyes of his children, before they were of an age to love and follow it. But as to worldly cares, which my friends

thought lay so heavy upon me, they are most of them of our own making, and fall away as soon as we begin to know ourselves.

For this reason, all my discourse with you, has been to acquaint you with yourselves, and to accustom you to such books of devotion, as may best instruct you in this greatest of all knowledge.

You would think it hard, not to know the family into which you was born, what ancestors you were descended from, and what estate was to come to you. But, my children, you may know all this with exactness, and yet be as ignorant of yourselves, as a man that should take himself to be wax, and therefore dared not to let the sun shine upon him.

In order to know yourselves aright, you must consider yourselves as so many fallen embodied spirits, conceived and born in sin, and that your lives began in a state of corruption and disorder, full of tempers and passions, that blind and darken the reason of your minds, and incline you to that which is hurtful.

Your bodies are not only poor and perishing like your cloaths, but they are as infected cloaths, that fill you with ill distempers, which oppress the soul with sickly appetites, and vain envyings.

Hence all of us are like two beings, that have as it were two hearts within us: with the one, we see, taste, and admire reason, purity, and holiness; with the other we incline to pride, vanity, and sensual delights.

This internal war we always feel within us more or less; and if you would know the one thing necessary to you and all the world, it is this, to preserve, strengthen, and perfect all that is rational, holy, and divine in our nature, and by the assistance of the blessed Spirit of God, to mortify and subdue all that vanity, pride, and sensuality, which springs from the corruption of our state.

Whilst you live thus, you live like yourselves, and what is more, like Christians; but whenever you are more intent upon adorning your persons, than upon perfecting your souls, you are much more beside yourselves, than he, that had rather have a laced coat, than an healthful body.

Never consider yourselves, therefore, as persons that are to be seen, admired, and courted by men; but as poor sinners, that are to be washed in the blood of the Lamb of God, and accepted through his all-sufficient righteousness, received by faith, and to be saved from the follies of a miserable world, and made meet for heaven by the powerful operations of his blessed Spirit.

These considerations have made me think it my duty to teach you nothing that was dangerous for you to learn. I have kept you from every thing that might betray you into weakness and folly, or make you think any thing fine, but a fine mind; any thing happy, but an interest in the favour of God, through Jesus Christ; or any thing desirable, but his love shed abroad in the heart, and to do all the good you possibly can to your fellow-creatures.

Instead of the vain, immodest entertainment of plays and operas, I have taught you to delight in pious reading and religious conversation. What music, dancing, and diversions are to the people of the world, that holy meditation, fervent prayers, and other acts of devotion, have been to you.

Instead of forced shapes, patched faces, and affected motions, I have taught you to conceal your bodies with modest garments, and to let the world have nothing to view of you, but the plainness and sincerity, the humility and unaffectedness of all your behaviour.

You know, my children, that a single state frees from worldly cares and troubles, and gives a woman an opportunity of caring only how she may please the Lord; but as I look upon you all to be so many great blessings of

a married state; so I leave it to your choice, either to do as I have done, or to continue in a virgin state. Only let me remind you, if you intend to marry, let the time never come till you find a man that has those graces, which you are aspiring after yourselves; who is likely to be a friend to all your virtues, and with whom it is better to live, than to want the benefit of his example.

Avoid therefore the conversation of what the world calls fine-bred fops, and beaux; for they are the shame of their own sex, and ought to be the abhorrence of yours.

If evil speaking, scandal, or backbiting, be the conversation where you happen to be, keep your hearts to yourselves; and if you have no opportunity to reprove or turn the stream of such conversation into a proper channel, retire as soon as you can.

Love and reverence poor people; as for many reasons, so particularly for this, because our blessed Saviour was one of the number. Visit and converse with them frequently: you will often find simplicity, innocence, patience, fortitude, and great piety amongst them; and where they are not so, your good example may amend them. For this cause, you know I have divided part of my estate already amongst you, that you each may be charitable out of your own stock, and take it in your turns to provide for the poor and sick of the parish.

Whether married or unmarried, consider yourselves as mothers and sisters, as friends and relations to all that want your assistance; and never allow yourselves to be idle, whilst others want any thing that your hands can make for them.

I have brought you up to all kinds of labour, that are proper for women, as sowing, knitting, spinning, and all other parts of housewifery; not merely for your amusement, and that you may know how to direct your servants;

but that you may be serviceable to yourselves and others, and be saved from those temptations which attend an idle life. I must therefore repeat to you, my daughters, what I have often reminded you of before, that I had rather see you reduced to the necessity of maintaining yourselves by your own hands, than to have riches to excuse yourselves from labour. Never therefore consider your labour merely as an amusement to get rid of your time, and so may be as trifling as you please; but consider it as something that is to be serviceable to yourselves and others, that is to serve some sober ends of life, to save and redeem your time, and make it turn to your account, when the works of all people shall be tried by fire.

What would you think of the wisdom of him, that should employ his time in distilling of waters, and making liquors which no body could use, merely to amuse himself with the variety of their colour and clearness; when with less labour and expence, he might satisfy the wants of those who have nothing to drink? And yet he would be as wisely employed, as those that are amusing themselves with such tedious works as they neither need, nor hardly know how to use when they are finished; when with less labour and expence they might be doing as much good, as he that is cloathing the naked, or visiting the sick. Be glad therefore to know the wants of the poorest people, and think it not beneath you, to let your hands be employed in making such mean and ordinary things for them, as their necessities require. Thus Dorcas was employed, who is mentioned with so much honour in holy writ; and by so doing, you will behave like true disciples of that Lord and Master, 'who came into the world not to be ministered unto, but to minister.'

In short, my dear children, strive to do every thing that is praise-worthy, but do nothing in order to be praised; nor think of any reward of all your

works of faith and labours of love, till Jesus Christ cometh with all his holy angels. Think, my children, that the soul of your good father, now with God, speaks to you through my mouth; and let the double desire of your father who is gone, and of me who am with you, above all, let the mercies of God in Christ Jesus, prevail upon you to love God with all your souls, to study your own perfection, to practise humility, and to do all the good you can to all your fellow-creatures, especially to those who are of the houshold of faith, till it shall please God to call you to another life."

Thus did the pious widow educate her daughters. The spirit of this education speaks so plainly for itself, that, I hope, I need say nothing in its justification. If we could see it in life, as well as read of it in books, the world would soon find the happy effects.

There is nothing more desirable for the common good of all the world, than that we might see it. For though women do not carry on the trade and business of the world, yet as they are mothers and mistresses of families, they have for some time the care of the education of their children of both sorts, and are entrusted with that which is of the greatest consequence to human life. For as the health and strength, or weakness of our bodies, is very much owing to their methods of treating us when we are young; so the soundness or folly of our minds, are not less owing to those first tempers and ways of thinking, which we eagerly received from the love, tenderness, authority and constant conversation of our mothers.

Is it not then much to be lamented, that this sex, on whom so much depends, who have the first forming of our bodies and our minds, are not only educated in pride, but in the silliest and most contemptible part of it?

They are not suffered to dispute with us the proud prizes of arts and sciences, of learning and eloquence, in which I have much suspicion they

would often prove our superiors; but we turn them over to the study of beauty and dress, and the whole world conspire to make them to think of nothing else. Fathers and mothers, friends and relations, seem to have no other wish towards the little girl, but that she may have a fair skin, a fine shape, dress well, and dance to admiration.

And what makes this matter the more to be lamented, is this. That women are not only spoiled by this education, but we spoil that part of the world, which would otherwise furnish the most instances of an eminent and exalted piety. The Church has formerly had eminent saints in that sex; and it may reasonably be thought, that it is purely owing to their poor and vain education, that this honour of their sex is for the most part confined to former ages.

The corruption of the world indulges them in great vanity, and mankind seem to consider them in no other view, than as so many painted idols, that are to allure and gratify their passions; so that if many women are vain, light, gew-gaw creatures, they have this to say in excuse of themselves, that they are not only such as their education has made them, but such as the generality of the world allow them to be.

Some indeed are pleased to say, that women are naturally of little and vain minds, and consequently their trifling vain behaviour is owing solely to that; but this I look upon to be as false and unreasonable, as to say, that butchers are naturally cruel: for as their cruelty is not owing to their natures, but to their way of life, which has changed their natures; so whatever littleness and vanity is to be observed in the minds of women, it is like the cruelty of butchers, a temper that is wrought into them by that life which they are taught and accustomed to lead. At least thus much must be

said, that we cannot justly charge any thing upon their nature, till we take care that it is not perverted by their education.

But supposing it were true, that they were thus naturally vain and light, then how much more blameable is that education, which seems contrived to strengthen and increase the folly and weakness of their minds? For if it were a virtue in women to be proud, and vain, and indevout, we could hardly take better means to raise these bad things in them, than those which are now used in their education.

Some people that judge hastily, will perhaps say, I have been exercising too great a severity against the sex. But more reasonable persons will easily observe, that I entirely spare the sex, and only arraign their education; that,

I profess, I cannot spare; but the only reason is, because it is their greatest enemy, because it deprives the world of so many blessings, and the church of so many saints as might reasonably be expected from persons, formed by their natural temper to all goodness and tenderness, and fitted, by the clearness and brightness of their minds, to contemplate, love and admire every thing that is holy, virtuous, and divine.

CHAPTER VII.

S hewing, how true devotion fills our lives the greatest peace and happiness that can be enjoyed in this world.

SOME people perhaps may object, that by thus living wholly unto God, and introducing a regard to his glory in all that we do, too great a restraint will be put upon human nature; and that by thus depriving ourselves of so many seemingly innocent pleasures, as such a way of life would hinder us from pursuing, we shall render our lives dull, uneasy, and melancholy.

But this objection is entirely groundless. For Christian devotion requires us to renounce no ways of life, wherein we can act reasonably, and offer what we do to the glory of God. All ways of life, all satisfactions and enjoyments that are within these bounds, are no ways denied by the strictest rules of real devotion. And will you think that your life must be uncomfortable, unless you may displease God, be fools and mad, and act contrary to that reason and wisdom which He has implanted in you?

As for those satisfactions which we dare not offer to a holy God, which are only invented by the folly and corruption of the world, which inflame

our passions, and sink our souls into grossness and sensuality, and thereby render us unmeet for communion with God here, and the eternal enjoyment of Him hereafter, surely it can be no uncomfortable state of life, to be rescued by religion from such murderers both of our souls and bodies.

Let us suppose a person destitute of that knowledge which we have from our senses, placed somewhere alone by himself, in the midst of a variety of things which he did not know how to use; that he has by him bread, wine, gold-dust, iron chains, gravel, garments, and fire. Let it be supposed, that he had no knowledge of the right use of these things, nor any direction from his senses how to quench his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or make any use of the things about him. Let it be supposed, that in his drought he puts gold dust into his eyes; when his eyes smart, he puts wine into his ears; that in his hunger, he puts gravel in his mouth: that in pain, he loads himself with the iron chains; that feeling cold, he puts his feet in the water; that being frighted at the fire, he runs away from it; and that being weary, he makes a seat of his bread. Let it be supposed, that through his ignorance of the right use of the things that are about him, he will vainly torment himself whilst he lives; and at last die, blinded with dust, choaked with gravel, and loaded with irons. Let it be supposed, that some good being came to him, and shewed him the nature and use of all the things that were about him, and gave him such strict rules of using them, as would certainly, if observed, make him the happier for all that he had, and deliver him from the pains of hunger, and thirst, and cold; could you with any reason affirm, that those strict rules of using the things that were about him, had rendered that poor man's life dull and uncomfortable?

Now this is, in some measure, a representation of the strict rules of religion; they relieve our ignorance, save us from tormenting ourselves, and

teach us to use every thing about us, not only to the glory of God, but to our own proper advantage.

If religion commands us to live wholly unto God, and to do all to his glory, it is because every other way of life is living wholly against ourselves, and will end in our own shame and confusion.

Would you see how happy they are, who live according to their own wills, and who cannot submit to the dull and melancholy business of a life devoted unto God, look at Flatus; Flatus is rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness.

At his first setting out in life, fine cloaths was his delight; his enquiry was only after the best taylors and peruke-makers, and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectation, he left off his brocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness.

This new pleasure satisfied him for some time: he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate of play drawn into a duel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off the dice, and sought for happiness no longer amongst the gamesters.

The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversions of the town; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and assemblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking.

Here he had many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. Here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into a fever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.

The next attempt after happiness, carried him into the field. For two or three years nothing made him so happy as hunting; he entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped more hedges and ditches than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in a green coat; he was the envy of all that blew the horn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the last noble chace. No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, new stables, and bought a new hunting-seat, but he immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in the pleasures of building.

Now he invents new kinds of dove-cotes, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before: he wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst his brick and mortar, than ever he had at court; and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.

The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to every body of masons and carpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the happiness of riding about. After this, you can never see him but on horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life, that he would tell you, give him but his horse and a clean country to ride in, and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure of this new way of life. But however, after some time having tired both himself and his horses, the happiest thing

he could think of next, was to go abroad and visit foreign countries; and there, indeed, the happiness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had begun so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, unable to bear any longer the impertinence of foreigners.

Alter this, he was a great student for one whole year; he was up early and late at his Italian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding the opera, whenever he should hear one, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they don't know what.

Flatus is now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before, he is reasoning and reflecting with himself. He loses several days, in considering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try again.

But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country, to get himself into as good wind as any running footman in the kingdom.

I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars of this kind of life, because I hope, that every particular folly that you here see and read of, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.

But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life of Flatus, is not the common state of those, who resign themselves up to live by their own humour, and neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life, as I would make it.

I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the most general characters in life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it which belongs to them. But let it be granted, that the generality of people are not of such restless, fickle tempers as Flatus; the difference is only this, Flatus is continually changing and trying something new, but others are content

with some one state; they do not leave gaming, and then fall to hunting; but they have so much steadiness in their tempers, that some seek after no other happiness, but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field; and others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.

Now is there any thing more happy or reasonable in such a life as this, than in the life of Flatus? Is it not as great and desirable, as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard all your life?

Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, or as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such a happiness as this?

But turn your eyes now another way, and let the glorious joys, the exquisite happiness of Feliciana, teach you how miserable, and how dull they must needs be, and what a delusion they are in, whole hearts are not wholly devoted unto God.

If you was to live with Feliciana but one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition of that which could never have pleased once, but through a wrong turn of mind, and want of thought.

She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting days. She is again to change the colours of her cloaths, again to have a new head, and again put patches on her face. She is again to see who acts best at the play-house, and who sings finest at the opera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely about nothing.

She is to be again delighted with some new fashion; and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with

hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again pleased with her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money.

She is again to prepare herself for a birth night, and again see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels, and partings.

If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprizing new dress, or new diversion just come to town.

These are all the substantial and regular parts of Feliciana's happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one or more of these things.

It is for this happiness, that she has been always deaf to the reasonings of religion; and if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can prevail on to live wholly unto God; you will find most of them to be such, as lose all the comforts of religion, without gaining the tenth part of Feliciana's happiness. They are such as spend their time and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are only to be purchased by considerable fortunes.

Nor does a life only of such vanity and sensuality as that of Flatus or Feliciana's, but even the most regular kind of life, that is not governed by great devotion, sufficiently shews how dull and uncomfortable their lives must needs be, who are not wholly devoted unto God.

Octavius is a learned, ingenious man, well versed in most parts of literature, and no stranger to any kingdom in Europe. The other day, being

just recovered from a lingering fever, he thus addressed his friends.

"My glass, says he, is almost run out; and your eyes see how many marks of age and death I bear about me: But I plainly feel myself sinking away faster than any standers by do imagine. I fully believe, that one year more will conclude my reckoning."

The attention of his friends was much raised by such a declaration, expecting to hear something truly excellent from so learned a man, who had but a year longer to live; when Octavius proceeded in this manner: "For these reasons, my friends, I have left off all taverns, the wine of those places is not good enough for me in this decay of nature. I must now be nice in what I drink; I cannot pretend to do as I have done; and therefore am resolved to furnish my own cellar with a little of the very best, though it cost me ever so much.

I must also tell you, my friends, that age forces a man to be wise in many other respects, and makes us change many of our opinions and practices.

You know how much I have liked a large acquaintance; I now condemn it as an error. Three or four chearful, diverting companions, is all that I now desire; because I find, that in my present infirmities, if I am left alone, or to grave company, I am not so easy to myself."

A few days after Octavius had made this declaration to his friends, he relapsed into his former illness, and was committed to a nurse, who closed his eyes before his fresh parcel of wine came in.

Young Eugenius, who was present at this discourse, went home a new man, with full resolutions of devoting himself to God. "I never, says

Eugenius, was so deeply affected with the wisdom and importance of religion, as when I saw how poorly and meanly the learned Octavius was to leave the world, through the want of it.

How often had I envied his great learning, his skill in languages, his knowledge of antiquity, his address, and fine manner of expressing himself upon all subjects! But when I saw how poorly it all ended, what was to be the last year of such a life, and how foolishly the master of all these accomplishments was then forced to talk, I was then convinced that there must be nothing so happy and comfortable as a life of true devotion; nor any thing so poor and comfortless, as death without it."

Look now at that condition of life, which draws the envy of all eyes.

Negotius is a temperate honest man: he served his time under a master of great trade, but has by his own management made it a more considerable business than ever it was before. For thirty years past, he has written fifty or sixty letters in a week, and is busy in corresponding with all parts of Europe. The general good of trade seems to Negotius to be the general good of life; whomsoever he admires, whatever he commends, or condemns, either in church or state, is admired, commended, or condemned, with some regard to trade.

As money is continually pouring in upon him, so he often lets it go in various kinds of expence and generosity, and sometimes in ways of charity.

Negotius is always ready to join in any public contribution: If a purse is making at any place where he happens to be, whether it be to buy a plate for a horse-race, or to redeem a prisoner out of jail, you are always sure of having something from him.

He has given a fine ring of bells to a church in the country; and there is much expectation, that he will some time or other make a more beautiful front to the market-house, than has yet been seen in any place. For it is the generous spirit of Negotius to do nothing in a mean way.

The generality of people, when they think of happiness, think upon Negotius, in whose life every instance of happiness is supposed to meet; sober, prudent, rich, prosperous, generous, and as the world thinks, charitable.

Let us now then look at this condition in another, but truer light.

Let it be supposed, that this same Negotius was a painful, laborious man, every day deep in a variety of affairs; that he neither drank, nor was debauched; but was sober and regular in his business. Let it be supposed that he grew old in this course of trading; and that the end and design of all this labour, care, and application to business, was only that he might die possessed of more than a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats. Now if this was really the case, I believe it would be readily granted, that a life of such business was as poor and ridiculous, as any that can be invented. But it would puzzle any one to shew, that a man that has spent all his time and thoughts in business and hurry, that he might die, as it is said, worth a hundred thousand pounds, is any whit wiser than he, who has taken the same pains to have as many pair of boots and spurs when he leaves the world.

For if when he has gotten his hundred thousand pounds, or all his boots, his soul is to go to his own place, as every soul needs must that has not closed with Jesus Christ, and is not born again of God; how can we say, that he who has worn out his life in raising an hundred thousand pounds, has acted a wiser part for himself, however his money may profit others, than he who has had the same care to provide a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats?

It would be endless to multiply examples of this kind, to shew how little is lost, and how greatly they are mistaken, who imagine they should render

themselves dull and comfortless by introducing a strict piety into every condition of human life.

Examples of great piety are not now common in the world; but the misery and folly of worldly men, and vain and trifling women, is what meets your eyes in every place; and you need not look far to see, how poorly, how vainly men dream away their lives for want of real devotion.

This is the reason that I have laid before you so many characters of the vanity of a worldly life, to teach you to make some benefit of the corruption of the age, and that you may be made wise, though not by the sight of what piety is, yet by seeing what misery and folly reign where piety is not.

To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the love of God in Christ, the glories of heaven, the joys of saints and angels, living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not so suited to every capacity.

But to see and consider the emptiness and error of all worldly happiness; to see the grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of dress, the delusion of honour, the blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and the shortness of all worldly projects; these are meditations which are suited to all capacities, and fitted to strike all minds: This is that "wisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets," that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing, and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes and chances of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other

end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness, which is only to be found in a life devoted to God.

CHAPTER VIII.

S hewing the excellency and greatness of a devout spirit, and proving that a contrary spirit, is an indication of great ignorance and stupidity.

I HAVE now finished what was intended; I have explained the nature of Christian devotion, and shewn that it belongs to all orders, and more especially to those whose fortunes set them above the common level of mankind. I have endeavoured to point out to you, the chief causes of the general indevotion of the professing Christian world; and have shewn in various characters, how poor, how miserable they live, who are strangers to a life wholly devoted to God. I shall only add a word or two by way of conclusion, to prove that fervent devotion is the noblest temper of the greatest and noblest souls; and that a want of devotion, wherever it is, either amongst the learned or unlearned, is founded in gross ignorance, and in the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.

And here, I suppose it will be granted on all hands, that it is a sign of a great and noble mind for a man to be full of reverence and duty to his parents, to have the truest love and honour for his friend, and to excel in the

highest instances of gratitude to his benefactor. Are not these tempers, in the highest degree, signs of the most exalted and perfect minds?

And yet what is devotion, but the highest exercise of these tempers, of duty, reverence, love, honour, and gratitude, to the amiable, glorious parent, friend and benefactor of all mankind? So long, therefore, as duty to parents, love to friends, and gratitude to benefactors, are thought great and honourable tempers; devotion, which is nothing else but duty, love, and gratitude to God, must have the chief place amongst our highest virtues.

Again; we know how our blessed Lord acted in a human body; it was "his meat and drink to do the will of his Father which is in heaven." And if any number of heavenly spirits were to leave their habitations in the light of God, and be for a while united to human bodies, they would certainly tend towards God in all their actions, and be as heavenly as they could, in a state of flesh and blood.

They would act in this manner, because they know that God is the only good of all spirits; and that whether they were in the body or out of the body, in heaven or on earth, they must have every degree of their greatness and happiness from God alone. All human spirits therefore, the more exalted they are, and the more they know their divine original, and the nearer they come to heavenly spirits, by so much the more will they live to God in all their actions, and make their whole life a state of devotion.

A devout man makes a true use of his reason; he sees through the vanity of the world, discovers the corruption of his nature, and the blindness of his passions. He lives by a law which is not visible to vulgar eyes; he enters into the world of spirits, he compares the greatest things, sets eternity against time; and chuses rather to be forever great in the presence of God when he dies, than to have the greatest share of worldly pleasures whilst he

lives. There is nothing, therefore, that shews so great a genius, nothing that so raises us above vulgar spirits, nothing that so plainly declares an heroic greatness of mind, as great and fervent devotion.

When you suppose a man to be a saint, or all devotion, you have raised him as much above all other conditions of life, as a philosopher is above an animal.

The greatest spirits of the heathen world, such as, Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Epictetus, and Marcus Antoninus, owed all their greatness to something they possessed, that resembled devotion. Their wisdom and deep contemplations, tended only to deliver men from the vanity of the world, and the slavery of bodily passions; and had they been endowed with the revelation of Jesus Christ, they might have justly been stiled great and devout men. For their main end of living, seemed to be, that they might act as spirits that came from God, and were soon to return to him.

But to proceed: Courage and bravery are words of a great sound, and seem to signify an heroic spirit; but yet humility, which seems to be the lowest, meanest part of devotion, is a more certain argument of a noble and courageous mind. A man that dares be poor and contemptible in the eyes of the world, to approve himself to Jesus Christ; that resists and rejects all human glory, that opposes the clamour of his passions, that meekly puts up all injuries and wrongs, and dares stay for his reward, till the invisible hand of God gives to every one their proper places, endures a much greater trial, and exerts a nobler fortitude, than he that is bold and daring in the fire of battle. For the boldness of a soldier, if he is a stranger to devotion, is rather weakness than fortitude; it is at best but mad passion, and heated spirits, and has no more true valour in it, than the fury of a tyger. For as we cannot lift up a hand, or stir a foot, but by a power that is lent us from God; so bold

actions that are not directed by the laws of God, and done with a regard to his glory, are no more true bravery, than sedate malice is Christian patience.

Farther; That part of devotion which expresses itself in sorrowful confessions, and penitential tears of a broken and contrite heart, which with some seems likewise another of the poorest and meanest things; is notwithstanding an indication of the most great and noble mind. For who does not acknowledge it an instance of an ingenuous, generous and brave mind, to acknowledge a fault, and ask pardon for any offence? Are not the finest and most improved minds the most remarkable for this excellent temper? Is it not also allowed, that the ingenuity and excellency of a man's spirit is much shewn, when his sorrow and indignation at himself, rises in proportion to the folly of his crime, and the goodness and greatness of the person he has offended? Now if these things are so, then the greater any man's mind is, the more he will be disposed to prostrate himself, and confess his faults before God, in all the humblest acts and expressions of repentance. And the greater the ingenuity, the generosity, judgment, and penetration of his mind is, the more will he exercise and indulge a passionate, tender sense of God's just displeasure; and the more he knows of the greatness, the goodness, and perfection of the divine nature, the fuller of shame and confusion he will be at his own sins and ingratitude.

From all which considerations, it plainly appears, that devotion is a true elevation of the soul, and that a lively sense of honour, and great knowledge of ourselves, are the best natural helps that devotion hath. And if this does not prove, that great devotion is the noblest temper of the greatest and noblest souls, we have not an argument to prove, that there is any such thing as a wise man or a fool.

On the other hand, it will as evidently appear that a want of devotion, wherever it is, among the learned or unlearned, is founded on gross ignorance, and the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.

People indeed of fine parts and learning, or of great knowledge in worldly matters, may perhaps think it hard to have their want of devotion charged upon their ignorance; but if they will be content to be tried by reason and scripture, it may soon be made appear. For were not our Lord and his apostles, eminent instances of great and exalted devotion? And if we will grant, (as all professed Christians must grant) that their devotion was founded on a true knowledge of the nature of devotion, the nature of God, and the nature of man; then it is plain, that all those who are insensible of devotion, neither know God, themselves, nor devotion.

Pray how comes it to pass, that most people have recourse to devotion, when they are under sickness, distress, or in fear of death? Is it not, because this state shews them more the want of God, and their own weakness, than they perceive at other times? And if devotion at these seasons, is the effect of a better knowledge of God, and ourselves, then the neglect and want of it at other times must be always owing to ignorance. Ignorance did I say? Yes, undoubtedly, and that the most shameful ignorance: for it is an ignorance of those things, which are most essential to us as rational creatures; I mean our relation to God, and the obligations we lie under to live wholly to his glory.

If a Judge had fine skill in painting, architecture, and music, but at the same time had gross and confused notions of equity, and a poor, dull apprehension of the value of justice, who would scruple to reckon him a poor ignorant Judge? If a Bishop should be a man of great address and skill in the art of preferment, and of a quick understanding how to raise and

enrich his family in the world, but should have no taste or sense of the maxims and principles of the saints and fathers of the church; if he did not conceive the holy nature, and great obligations of his calling, and judge it better to be crucified to the world, than to live idly in pomp and splendor; who would scruple to charge such a Bishop with want of understanding?

But now, if a Judge is to be reckoned ignorant, nay shamefully so, if he does not feel and perceive the value and worth of justice; if a Bishop is to be looked upon as void of understanding, if he is more experienced in other things, than in the exalted virtues of his apostolical calling; then all common Christians are to be looked upon as more or less shamefully ignorant, as they are more or less ignorant of those great things, which are the common, and ought to be the greatest concern of all Christians.

If a man had eyes that could see beyond the stars, or pierce into the heart of the earth, but could not see the things that were before him, or discern any thing that was serviceable to him, we should reckon that he had but a very bad sight. And if another had ears that received sounds from the world in the moon, but could hear nothing that was said or done upon earth, we should look upon him to be as bad as deaf. In like manner, if a man has a memory that can retain a great many things; if he has a wit that is sharp and acute in arts and sciences, or an imagination that can wander agreeably in fictions; but has a dull, poor apprehension of his duty and relation to God, of the value of piety, or the worth of an interest in the righteousness of Jesus

Christ, he may very justly be reckoned to have a very bad understanding.

He is but like the man that can only see or hear such things as are of no benefit to him.

If an human spirit should imagine some mighty Prince to be greater than God, we should take it for a poor, ignorant creature; all people would

acknowledge such an imagination to be the height of stupidity: But if this same human spirit should think it better to be devoted to some mighty

Prince, than to be devoted to God, would not this be a greater proof of a poor, ignorant, and blinded nature?

Yet this is what all people do, who think any thing greater, better, or wiser, than a devout life. So that which way soever we consider this matter, it plainly appears, that devotion is an instance of great judgment, and of an elevated nature; and the want of devotion is a certain proof of the most shameful ignorance, and want of understanding.

Would you therefore not incur the imputation of the highest folly, and most shameful ignorance; would you be possessed of the noblest and most exalted judgment; would you avoid the senseless and vexatious miseries that attend a vain, sensual, and indevout life; would you act like a rational and redeemed creature; would you enjoy solid peace and happiness here, and have a well grounded hope and assurance of being invested with eternal joy and comfort in the blissful fruition of the glorious and ever-blessed God hereafter; let it be your highest concern henceforward, to ask, seek, and knock at the door of divine grace, till you obtain a true living faith in the righteousness of the once humbled but now exalted Redeemer, and as a proof of that, to devote yourself entirely, without reserve, to his honour, and do all the good you possibly can to all your fellow-creatures, for his great name's sake.

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