Chapter VII (2)

21. Many other proceedings in the conduct of life, are condemned as vanity and impertinence, though not half so inconsistent with the character of man, nor so disagreeable to his present posture. The pens of moral writers have been all along employed against them who spent their short and uncertain lives, which ought to be spent in pursuing an infinitely higher interest, in gaping up and down after honour and preferments, in long and frequent attendances at court, in raising families, in getting estates, and the like. These are condemned not only for their particular viciousness, as crimes of ambition and covetousness, but for what they have all in common, as they are misspendings of time, and unconcerning employments.

22. Now I would fain know, whether any of these be more expensive of our time, more remote from the main business of life, and consequently more impertinent, than to be busily employed in the niceties and curiosities of learning? And whether a man that loiters away six weeks in court-attendances, be not every whit as _accountably_ employed, as he that spends the same time in solving a mathematical question, as Mr. _Des Cartes_ in one of his epistles confesses himself to have done? Why should the prosecution of learning be the only thing excepted from the vanities and impertinences of life?

23. And yet so it is. All other unconcerning employments are cried down merely for being so, as not consistent with the present state of man, with the character he now bears. This alone is not content with the reputation of innocence, but stands for positive merit and excellence. To say a man is a lover of knowledge, and a diligent enquirer after truth, is thought almost as great an encomium as you can give him; and the time spent in the study, though in the search of the most impertinent truth, is reckoned almost as laudably employed as that in the chapel. ’Tis learning only that is allowed (so inconsistent with itself is human judgment) not only to divide, but to devour the greatest part of our short life; and that is the only thing which with credit and public allowance stands in competition with the study of virtue: nay, by the most is preferred before it, who had rather be accounted learned than pious.

*24. But is not this a strange competition? We confess that knowledge is a glorious excellence. Yet rectitude of will is a far greater excellence than brightness of understanding: and to be good, is a more glorious perfection than to be wise and knowing, this being if not the only, certainly the principal difference between an angel and a devil. _’Tis far better_, to use the expression of Mr. _Poiret_, _like an infant without much reasoning, to love much, than like the devil, to reason much without love_.

25. But suppose knowledge were a more glorious excellence than it is; suppose it were a greater perfection than virtue; yet still this competition would be utterly against reason; since we can’t have the former now _in any measure_, and shall have it hereafter _without measure_: but the latter we may have _now_ (for we may _love much_ tho’ we cannot _know much_) and can’t have it _hereafter_. Now the question is, whether we ought to be more ♦sollicitous for that intellectual perfection, which we can’t have _here_ and shall have _hereafter_; or that moral perfection, which we may have _here_, and cannot have _hereafter_? And I think we need not consult an oracle, or conjure up a spirit, to be resolved.

♦ “solicitious” replaced with “sollicitous” for consistency

*26. This consideration alone is sufficient to justify the measure we have prescribed for our intellectual conduct, that we ought to prosecute knowledge no farther than as it conduces to virtue: and consequently, that whenever we study to any other purpose, or in any other degree than this, we are unaccountably, impertinently, I may add, sinfully imployed. For this is the whole of man, _To fear God and keep his commandments_, the whole of man in this station particularly, and consequently this ought to be the scope of all his studies and endeavours.

27. And accordingly it is observable, that the scripture, whenever it makes mention of wisdom, with any mark of commendation, always means by it either religion itself, or such knowledge as has a direct influence upon it. Remarkable to this purpose is the 28th chapter of _Job_; where having run thro’ several instances of natural knowledge, he adds, _But where shall wisdom be found, and where is the place of understanding_? As much as to say, that in none of the other things mentioned, did consist the wisdom of man. Then it follows, _Man knoweth not the price thereof, neither is it found in the land of the living. The depth saith, It is not in me, and the sea saith, It is not in me._ Not in the depths of learning, nor in the recesses of speculation, _Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living. Destruction and death say we have heard of the fame thereof with our ears_: as much as to say, that after this life, and then only, unless perhaps about the hour of death, men begin to have a true sense and lively relish of this wisdom. But in the mean time, _God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof_. And unto man he said, _Behold, the fear of the Lord that is wisdom, and to depart from evil, that is understanding_! To man he said: had it been to another creature, suppose an angel, in a state of security and confirmation, he would perhaps have recommended for wisdom the study of nature, and the arcana of philosophy. But having to do with man, a probationary, unfixed creature, that shall be either happy or miserable eternally, according as he demeans himself, in this short time of trial, the only wisdom he advises to such a creature in such a station, is to study religion and a good life.

28. From authority let us descend to example: and two I would particularly recommend, of men both eminently wise and learned; I mean _Moses_ and St. _Paul_. The latter professedly declares, _I determine to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified_. And the former complaining of the gross ignorance of his people, breaks out into this passionate wish. _O that they were wise! that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!_

29. _Moses_ had been bred a scholar as well as a courtier, and was well instructed in all the secrets of philosophy. And besides the advantages of _Pharaoh_’s court, he had God himself for his tutor; he had conversed personally with his maker, and therefore must needs be supposed to know what was true wisdom. But he does not make it consist in courtly education, or the mysteries of philosophy; but in considering our latter end. He wishes that his people were wise; and to this end does not wish, that they were as well-bred, or as learned as himself, but only that they understood this, this one thing, that they would consider their latter end. This he makes the summary and abstract of all wisdom. Not unlike _Plato_, who defines philosophy, _the theory of death_.

30. And here, if a short digression may be dispensed with, I would observe, how much _Plato_ is in the right, and what an excellent part of wisdom it is, to consider death seriously. To make this distinctly appear, I shall shew first, that the consideration of death is the most proper exercise for a wise man, and secondly, that it is the most compendious way of making him wise that is not so.

31. First, It is the most proper exercise for a wise man. Wisdom consists in a due estimation of things; which then are duly estimated, when they are rated, both as they are in themselves, and as they are in relation to us. If they are great and extraordinary in themselves, they deserve to be considered for their own sakes; if they nearly relate to us, they deserve to be considered for ours. And on both these accounts, death and its consequences, are highly deserving a wise man’s thoughts.

32. For, first, they are in themselves great and extraordinary transactions, and as such, deserve the attentive consideration, even of a stander by, of any other indifferent being, suppose an angel; even though he were no otherwise concerned in it, than as ’tis a great event, a noble and wonderful scene of providence. On this single account, death is as fit a subject for the contemplation of a wise man, as any in nature.

33. Or if there be within the sphere of nature, things of a greater appearance, yet there is none wherein man is so nearly concerned. Since on this depends his eternal happiness or ruin. Nothing deserves so much to be considered by him, whether therefore we regard the greatness of the thing itself, or its greatness with respect to us, the consideration of death is as proper an exercise as a wise man can be employed in.

34. And as ’tis so fit an employment for him that is wise already, so, secondly, it is the most compendious way of making him wise that is not so. For all wisdom is in order to happiness; and to be truly wise, is to be wise unto salvation. Whatever knowledge contributes not to this, is quite besides the mark. It is, as the apostle calls it, _Science falsely so called_. The knowledge itself is vain, and the study of it impertinent.

35. Now the only way to happiness is a good life; and consequently all wisdom being in order to happiness, that is the true, and the only true wisdom, that serves to the promoting it. That therefore is the most compendious way of making a man wise, which soonest makes him good. And nothing does this so soon and so well, as the serious and habitual consideration of death. And therefore says the wise man, _remember death and corruption, and keep the commandments_: The shortest compendium of holy living that ever was given. As if he had said, many are the admonitions of wise and good men, for the moral conduct of life. But would you have a short and infalible direction? Remember death and corruption. Do but remember this, and forget all other rules if you _will_, and your duty if you _can_.

36. And what is here remarked by one wise man, is consented to by all. Hence that common practice among the antients, of placing sepulchres in their gardens, and of using that celebrated motto, _Memento mori_. Hence that modern as well as antient custom, of putting emblems of mortality in churches and other public places: by all which is implied, that the consideration of death is the greatest security of a good life. Indeed what other considerations do by parts, this does at a blow. It at once defeats the world, the flesh, and the devil. For how can the world captivate him, who seriously considers that he is a stranger in it, and shall shortly leave it? How can the flesh insnare him, who has his sepulchre in his eye, and reflects on the cold lodging he shall have there? And how can the devil prevail on him, who remembers that he shall die, and then enter on an ♦unchangeable state of happiness or misery, according as he has either resisted, or yielded to his temptations? Of so vast consequence is the constant thinking upon death, above all other, even practical meditation: and so great reason had _Moses_ for placing the wisdom of man in the consideration of his latter end.

♦ “unchangable” replaced with “unchangeable” for consistency

*37. But to return. I now persuade myself, that from the character of man, and his present circumstances, as well as from divine authority, it evidently appears, that however natural our desire of knowledge is, this appetite is to be governed, as well as those that are sensual; that we ought to indulge it only so far, as may tend to the conducting our lives, and the fitting us for that happiness which God hath promised, not to the learned, but to the good: and that if it be gratified to any other purpose, or in any other measure than this, our curiosity is impertinent, our study immoderate, and the tree of knowledge still a forbidden plant.

38. And now having stated the measure of our affection to, and enquiry after learning and knowledge, it remains to be considered, how much ’tis observed in the general conduct of our studies. ’Tis plain, it is not observed at all. For these two things are notorious: First, That very little of what is generally studied, has any tendency to living _well_ here or happily hereafter. And, Secondly, That these very studies which have no religious influence upon life, do yet devour the greatest part of it. The best and most of our time is devoted to dry learning; this we make the course of our study, the rest is only by the by. And ’tis well if what is practical or devotional, can find us at leisure upon a broken piece of a Sunday or holiday. The main current of our life runs in studies of another nature, that don’t so much as glance one kind ♦aspect upon good living. Nay, ’tis well if some of them don’t hinder it. I am sure so great and so good a man as St. _Austin_ thought so, who speaking of the institution and discipline of his youth, has these remarkable words, “_I learnt in those things many useful words; but the same might have been learnt in matters that are not vain: and that indeed is the safe way, wherein children ought to be trained up. But wo unto thee thou torrent of |custom|! Who is able to resist thee! How long will it be before thou art dried up? How long wilt thou roll along the sons of |Eve|, into a great and formidable sea, which they can hardly pass over? Have I not, in obedience to thee, read of |Jupiter| thundring and fornicating at the same time? And yet, O thou hellish torrent, the sons of men are still tossed in thee, and are invited by rewards to learn these things! The pretence indeed is, that this is the way to learn words, and to get eloquence and the art of persuasion. As if we might not have known these words, |Golden Shower|, |lap|, the temple of |heaven|, without reading of |Jupiter|’s being made a precedent for whoring? This immorality does not at all help the learning of the words: but the words greatly encourage the committing the immorality. Not that I find fault with the words themselves; they are pure and choice vessels: but with that wine of error, which in them is handed and commended to us by our sottish teachers. And yet unless we drank of it, we were beaten, nor had we any sober judge to appeal to. And yet, I, O my God, in whose presence I now securely make this recollection, willingly learnt these things, and like a wretch delighted in them, and for this I was called a |good, hopeful boy|._” By this you may see what the judgment of this holy and venerable person was in his private retirements, and at the most serious intervals of his life, concerning the general course of those studies, which draw out the first runnings of our age, and which are of so great credit and authority in the world, as to go under the name of ingenious and liberal education. You see he not only disapproves them, but reckons them among those sins and irregularities of his youth, whereof he thought himself obliged to make a particular confession in this his great penetential.

♦ removed the word “of” per Errata

39. And here let me not be thought immodest, if upon great consideration and full conviction, I presume to tax the management of our publick schools. Many miscarriages I might note, but I shall concern myself only with those, which the principles here laid down lead me to consider. And these we may comprehend under two general heads of complaint.

I. That they take up so much of our time.

II. That they teach us such frivolous and unprofitable things as they do.

In relation to the first, I can’t with any patience reflect, that out of so short a time as that of human life, consisting, it may be of 50 or 60 years (for where one lives longer, hundreds come short) 19 or 20 shall be spent between the dictionary and the lexicon, in hammering out a little _Latin_ and _Greek_, and in learning a company of poetical fictions and fantastick stories. Were these things worth knowing, yet ’tis barbarous and inhuman, to make people spend so much of their little stock of time upon them. This is to _make a cure_ of human ignorance, and to deal with the infirmities of the mind, as some ill surgeons do with the wounds of the body. If one were to judge of the life of man by the proportion of it spent at school, one would think the _Antidiluvian_ mark were not yet out, and that we had a prospect of at least 900 or 1000 years before us. The truth is, ’tis an intolerable abuse it should be so; and were the age as wise as it pretends to be, it would never suffer it: especially considering what late examples we have had of more compendious methods beyond the seas. It does not become me to project a scheme of school-discipline; I leave this to abler heads. Only in the mean time I may venture to say, that the common way is a very great tax upon human life; so large a portion of which can very ill be spared, to be lavished away in the first elements of learning.

*But the greatest complaint against these seminaries is, the frivolousness of the things they teach. Not only the spending so much time on the things they teach is blame-worthy, but their teaching such things at all. Setting opinion and fancy aside, what real improvement is it to the mind of a rational creature, to be overlaid with words and phrases, and to be full charged with poetical stories and dreams? How many excellent and useful things might be learnt, while boys are _thumbing_ and _murdering Hesiod_ and _Homer_, which ♦then they do not understand, and which when they do, they will throw by and despise? And that justly too: for of what signification is such stuff as this, to the accomplishment of a reasonable soul? What improvement can it be to my understanding, to know the amours of _Pyramus_ and _Thisbe_, or of _Hero_ and _Leander_? Do men retain any value for these things, when they grow up, or endeavour to preserve the memory of them? And why must poor boys ♠be condemned to the drudgery of learning what when they are men they must and will unlearn? Why must they be forced with so great expence of time and labour, to learn ♣such things as are of no standing use? So ♥far from that, they are dangerous, as well as unprofitable. For I appeal to the common sense and experience of mankind, whether it be not dangerous in the highest degree, to entertain the gay catching fancies of boys, with the amorous scenes of the poets? Whether it be safe, to season their green imaginations with such images as are there painted to the life? Is not this rather the direct way to corrupt them, to sow in their tender minds the seeds of impurity, to increase their inbred propensities to evil, and lay a standing foundation for debauchery? Let any man but consider human nature as it comes down to us from _Adam_, and tell me whether he thinks a boy is fit to be trusted with _Ovid_? I do not understand upon what principle, either of prudence or piety, such books as these should be read by any; but least of all by boys, whose soft minds are so susceptible of any ill impression. Far better were it they should continue ignorant, than that their understandings should be accomplished at the hazard of their morals; upon which such studies as these can derive no very wholsome influence. And yet to these our youth is dedicated, and in these some of us employ our riper years, and when we die, this very thing makes one part of our funeral eulogy, that we were so diligent and indefatigable in our studies, and so inquisitive in the search of knowledge, perhaps that we procured an early interment by it; when, according to the principles before laid down, we were as impertinently, though not so innocently employed all the while, as if we had been so long picking straws in _Bedlam_.

♦ “when” replaced with “then” per Errata

♠ inserted word “be” per Errata

♣ “luch” replaced with “such”

♥ inserted “far from” per Errata

40. The sum of all this is: the measure of prosecuting learning and knowledge, is their usefulness to a good life. Consequently, all prosecution of them beyond or beside this end, is impertinent and immoderate. But such is the general prosecution of learning and knowledge, as is plain by appealing to the general conduct of study. It evidently follows, that the intellectual conduct of human life is justly chargeable with an immoderate and impertinent pursuit of knowledge.

The CONCLUSION.

TO what a narrow compass, by virtue of the preceding reflections, are these three things reduced, which use to take up so large a room, _viz._ Learning itself, the method of learning, and the desire and prosecution of learning? These indeed are great retrenchments, but such as are just and necessary to the regulation of our intellectual conduct.

And now who can forbear making these two observations, 1. That this bookish humour, which every where so prevails, is one of the spiritual diseases of mankind, one of the most malignant relics of original depravation: it carrying in it the very stamp and signature of _Adam_’s transgression, which owed its birth to an inordinate desire of knowledge, 2. That those who have eyes, may in great measure spare them, and they who have not, should not much lament the want of them, upon account of learning.

For my own part, I am so thoroughly convinced of the certainty of the principles here laid down, that I look upon myself as not only under a particular obligation, but almost a necessity of conducting my studies by them. The last of which has left such a deep impression upon me, that I now intend to follow the advice of the Heathen, (_Marcus Antoninus_, as I remember) ♦Τὴν τῶν Βιβλίων δίψαν ῥῖψον. _Rid thyself of the thirst after books_; and to study nothing at all but what serves to the advancement of piety and a good life.

♦ “Τὴν τῶν Βιϐλίων δίψαὑ ρίψον” replaced with
“Τὴν τῶν Βιβλίων δίψαν ῥῖψον”

I have now spent about 13 years in the most celebrated university in the world; in pursuing both such learning as the _academical_ standard requires, and as my private genius inclined me to. But in truth, when I think on my past intellectual conduct, I am as little satisfied with it as with my moral; being very conscious, that the greatest part of my time has been employed in unconcerning curiosities, such as derive no degree of moral influence upon the soul that contemplates them.

But I have now a very different apprehension of things, and intend to spend my uncertain remainder of time, in studying only what makes for the moral improvement of my mind, and regulation of my life: being not able to give an account, upon any rational and consistent principles, why I should study any thing else.

*More particularly, I shall apply myself to read such books as are rather persuasive than instructive; such as warm, kindle, and enlarge the affections, and awaken the divine sense in the soul; as being convinced by every day’s experience, that I have more need of heat than of light. Though were I for more light, still I think this would prove the best method of illumination, and that when all is done the love of God is the best light of the soul. _A man may indeed have knowledge without love; but he that loves, though he want sciences humanly acquired, yet he will know more than human wisdom can teach him, because he has that master within him who teacheth man knowledge._

THE
LIFE OF GOD
In the SOUL of MAN.

_Mistakes about religion._

1. I CANNOT speak of religion, but I must lament, that among so many pretenders to it, so few understand what it means; some placing it in the understanding, in orthodox notions and opinions; and all the account they can give of their religion is, that they are of this, or the other persuasion, and have joined themselves to one of those many sects whereinto Christendom is most unhappily divided: others place it in a constant course of external duties, and a model of performances; if they live peaceably with their neighbours, keep a temperate diet, observe the returns of worship, frequenting the church, or their closet, and sometimes extend their hands to the relief of the poor, they think they have sufficiently acquitted themselves: others again put all religion in rapturous heats, and all they aim at is, to pray with passion, and to be affected with those kind and melting expressions wherewith they court their Saviour, till they persuade themselves that they are mightily in love with him. Thus are these things, which have any resemblance of piety, and, at best, are but means for obtaining it, or particular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for the whole of religion; nay, sometimes wickedness and vice pretend to that name. I speak not now of those gross impieties wherewith the Heathens were wont to worship their gods: there are but too many Christians, who would consecrate their vices, and hallow their corrupt affections; whose rugged humour and sullen pride, must pass for Christian severity; whose fierce wrath, and bitter rage against their enemies, must be called holy zeal; whose petulancy towards their superiors, or rebellion against their governors, must have the name of Christian courage and resolution.

_What religion is._

2. But certainly religion is quite another thing; and they who are acquainted with it, will entertain far different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows of it. They know, by experience, that true religion is an union of the soul with God; a real participation of the divine nature; or, in the apostle’s phrase, _Christ formed within us_. Briefly, I know not how the nature of religion can be more fully expressed, than by calling it a _divine life_; and, under these terms, I shall discourse of it, shewing first, how it is called a _life_, and then how it is termed _divine_.

_Its permanency and stability._

3. I choose to express it by the name of _life_, first, because of its permanency and stability. Religion is not a sudden start or passion; tho’ it transport a man to extraordinary performances. There are few but have convictions of the necessity of doing something for the salvation of their souls, which may push them forwards some steps with a great deal of haste; but anon, they flag and give over; they did shoot forth, fresh and high, but are quickly withered, because they had no root in themselves. These sudden fits may be compared to the convulsive motions of bodies newly beheaded; which, however violent and impetuous, can be of no long continuance: whereas the motions of holy souls are constant and regular, proceeding from a permanent and lively principle. It is true this divine life continueth not always in the same strength and vigour, yet it is not extinguished; nor are holy men abandoned to the power of those corrupt affections, which sway the rest of the world.

_Its freedom and unconstrainedness._

4. Again, religion may be termed _life_, because it is an inward, free, and self-moving principle; and those who have it, are not acted only by external motives, driven merely by threatnings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully inclined to that which is good, and delight in the performance of it. The love which a pious man bears to God, and goodness, is not so much by virtue of a command enjoining it as by a new nature prompting him to it; nor doth he pay his devotions as a tribute, to appease the divine justice; but these religious exercises are the proper emanations of the divine life, the natural employments of a new-born soul. He prays, and gives thanks, and repents not only because these things are commanded, but because he is sensible of his wants, and of the divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sinful life. His charity is not forced, nor his alms extorted from him; his love makes him willing to give, and, though there were no outward obligations, his _heart would devise liberal things_. Injustice, or intemperance, and all other vices, are as contrary to his temper, as the basest actions to the most generous spirit: so that I may well say with St. _John_, _Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin: for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God_.¹ Though religious persons do much eye the law of God, and have a great regard unto it, yet it is not so much the sanction of the law, as its purity and goodness, which prevail with them. They account it excellent and desirable in itself; and that in keeping of it there is great reward. And that divine love wherewith they are acted, makes them become a law unto themselves.

Quis legem det amantibus?
Major est amor lex ipse sibi.

_Who shall prescribe a law to those that love?_
_Love’s a more powerful law, which doth them move._

¹ 1 John iii. 9.

5. In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is, in some measure, applicable to his followers, that it is their _meat and drink to do their Father’s will_.¹ And as the natural appetite is carried out towards food, though we should not reflect on the necessity of it; so are they carried, with a natural and unforced propension toward that which is good and commendable. It is true, external motives are of great use to stir up this inward principle, especially in its infancy; when ’tis often so languid, that the man himself can scarce discern it, hardly being able to move one step forward, but when he is pushed by his hopes, or his fears; by the pressure of an affliction, or the sense of a mercy; by the authority of the law, or the persuasion of others: yet, if such a person be conscientious and uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groaning under the sense of his dulness, these are the first motions of the divine life; which, though it be faint and weak, will surely be cherished by the influences of heaven, and grow unto greater maturity. But he who is utterly destitute of this inward principle, and contents himself with those performances whereunto he is prompted by education or custom, or the fear of hell, can no more be accounted a religious person, than a puppet can be called a man. This forced and artificial religion is commonly heavy and languid, like the motion of a weight forced upward. It is scant and niggardly, especially in those duties which do violence to mens inclinations; for those slavish spirits will be sure to do no more than is absolutely required; ’tis a law that compels them, and they will be loth to go beyond what it stints them to; nay, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as may leave them the greatest liberty. Whereas the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from such peevish and narrow reckonings; and he who hath given up himself entirely unto God, will never think he doth too much for him.

¹ John iv. 34.

_Religion a divine principle._

6. By this time, I hope, it appears, that religion is, with reason, termed _a life_, or vital principle; and that we are to distinguish betwixt it, and that obedience which is constrained, and depends upon external causes. I come next to give an account why I term it _a divine life_: and so it may be called, not only in regard of its fountain and original, having God for its author, and being wrought in the souls of men, by the power of his Holy Spirit; but also in regard of its nature, religion being a resemblance of the divine perfections, the image of the Almighty shining in the soul of man: nay, it is a real participation of his nature, it is a beam of the eternal light, a drop of that infinite ocean of goodness; and they who are endued with it, may be said to have _God dwelling in their souls, and Christ formed within them_.

_What the natural life is._

7. Before I descend to a more particular consideration of this, it will be fit to speak a little of that natural or animal life which prevails in those who are strangers to the other: and by this I understand nothing else, but our inclination and propension towards those things, which are pleasing to nature; or self-love issuing forth, and spreading itself into as many branches as men have several appetites and inclinations. The root and foundation of the animal life I reckon to be sense, as it is opposed to faith, and importeth our perception of things, that are either grateful or troublesome to us. Now these animal affections, as they are implanted in us by nature, are not vicious or blameable; nay, they are instances of the wisdom of the Creator, furnishing his creatures with such appetites as tend to the preservation and welfare of their lives. These are instead of a law to the brute beasts, whereby they are directed towards the ends for which they were made. But man, being made for higher purposes, becomes criminal when he is transported by the inclinations of this lower life, to neglect the more noble designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not wholly to be destroyed, but to be over-ruled by a more excellent principle: and the difference betwixt a religious and wicked man is, that in the one the divine life bears sway; in the other the animal prevails.

_The different tendencies of the natural life._

8. But it is strange to observe to what different courses this natural principle carries those who are guided by it, according to the divers circumstances that concur with it to determine them. And the not considering this, frequently occasions dangerous mistakes, making men think well of themselves, by reason of that seeming difference which is betwixt them and others. Whereas their actions all the while flow from one and the same original. If we consider the natural temper of men, we find some airy, frolicksome, and light, which makes their behaviour extravagant and ridiculous; whereas others are serious and severe, and their whole carriage gains them reverence and esteem. Some are of a rugged, and morose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves, nor endure that others should be so; while others have a sweetness in their natures, and find the greatest pleasure in the endearments of society, and the mutual complacency of friends. And it is well that nature hath provided this complectional tenderness, to supply the defect of true charity in the world, and to incline men to do something for one anothers welfare. Again, in regard of education, some have never been taught to follow any other rules, than those of pleasure or advantage; but others are enured to observe the strictest rules of decency and honour.

9. In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment of mere natural men that arises from the strength or weakness of their judgment. Intemperance and lust, injustice and oppression, and all those other impieties which abound in the world, are the effect of the _animal life_ when it is neither over-powered by religion, nor governed by natural reason? But if it once take hold of reason, and get judgment to be of its party, it will disdain gross vice, and spring up unto fair imitations of virtue. But this is not all: this natural principle, by the help of reason, may take a higher flight, and come nigher to religion. It may incline a man to the diligent study of divine truths: for why should not these, as well as other speculations, be grateful to inquisitive minds? It may make men zealous in maintaining and propagating such opinions as they have espoused. It may make them delight to hear and compose excellent discourses about the matters of religion; for eloquence is very pleasant, whatever be the subject; nay, some it may dispose to a kind of devotion. The glorious things that are spoken of heaven; the similitudes made use of in scripture, of crowns and scepters, and rivers of pleasure, may affect a man’s fancy, and make him wish to be there, tho’ he neither understand nor desire those spiritual pleasures which are shadowed forth by them: and when such a person believes that Christ has purchased those glorious things for him, he may feel a kind of tenderness and affection, and imagine he is mightily enamoured with him; and yet all the while continue a stranger to the holy temper and spirit of the blessed Jesus.

10. To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a man’s life pleasant, or himself eminent in the world; but _this_ natural principle, assisted by reason, may prompt him to it. And though I do not condemn these things in themselves; yet it concerns us nearly to know their nature, both that we may keep within bounds, and that we may learn never to value ourselves on the account of such attainments, nor lay the stress of religion upon our natural appetites or performances.

_Wherein the divine life doth consist._

11. It is now time to return to the consideration of that _divine life_, that _life which is hid with Christ in God_, and therefore hath no glorious shew or appearance in the world, but to the natural man seems mean and insipid. As the animal life consists in that narrow love which is terminated on a man’s self, and in his propension to those things that are pleasing to nature; so the divine life stands in an universal affection, and in the mastery over our natural inclinations. The root of the divine life is faith; the chief branches are, love to God, charity to man, purity and humility; for (as an excellent person observed) however these names be common and vulgar, yet do they carry such a mighty sense, that the tongue of man or angel can pronounce nothing more weighty or excellent. Faith hath the same place in the divine life, which sense hath in the natural; being indeed a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion of spiritual things: it extends itself unto all divine truths; but in our lapsed estate, it hath a peculiar relation to the declarations of God’s mercy to sinners thro’ a Mediator; and therefore, receiving its denomination from that principal object, is ordinarily termed _faith in Jesus Christ_.

12. The love of God is such a delightful sense of God’s love to us, as makes the soul resign itself wholly to him, desiring above all things to please him, and delighting in nothing so much as in communion with him, and being ready to do or suffer any thing for his sake. A soul thus possessed with divine love, must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in sincere affection, because of the relation they have to God, being his creatures, and having something of his image stamped upon them. And this is that _charity_ I named as the second branch of religion, and under which all the parts of justice, all the duties we owe to our neighbour, are eminently comprehended. For he who doth truly love all the world, will be nearly concerned in the interest of every one, and so far from wronging any person that he will resent any evil that befals others, as if it happened to himself.

13. By _purity_, I understand such a disposition of mind, as makes a man despise and abstain from all pleasures of sense or fancy, which either are sinful in themselves, or tend to extinguish or lessen our relish of more divine and intellectual pleasures. It doth also infer a resoluteness to undergo all those hardships he may meet with in the performance of his duty; so that not only charity and temperance, but also Christian courage and magnanimity, may come under this head.

14. _Humility_ imports a deep sense of our inward and outward sins, and of our utter helplessness; which is always accompanied with a profound submission to the will of God, and deadness to the applause of men.

These are the highest perfections that men are capable of, the foundation of heaven laid in the soul; and he who hath attained them, needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God’s decrees, to know what is determined about his everlasting condition, but he may find a copy of God’s thoughts concerning him written in his own breast. Those beginnings of happiness which he feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, are a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity. And it is not without reason that one said, _I had rather see the real impressions of a godlike nature upon my own soul, than have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me, that my name was enrolled in the book of life_.

_Religion better understood by actions than by words._

15. When we have said all we can, the secret mysteries of a divine life can never be sufficiently expressed: nor can they be truly understood but by those that have a sense and relish of spiritual things. _There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth this understanding._ The power and life of religion may be better expressed in actions than in words: And therefore we may take the best measure of those gracious endowments, from the deportment of those in whom they reside; especially from the holy life of our blessed Saviour, a main part of whose business in this world was to teach by his practice what he required of others, and to make his own conversation an exact resemblance of those unparalleled rules which he prescribed: so that if ever true goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was when his presence beautified this lower world.

_Divine love exemplified in our Saviour;
his diligence in doing God’s will;
and his patience in bearing it._

16. That devout affection wherewith his blessed soul constantly burned towards his heavenly Father, expressed itself in an entire resignation to his will. It was his _very meat, to do the will, and finish the work of him that sent him_. This was the exercise of his childhood, and the constant employment of his riper age. He spared no pains while he was about his Father’s business; but took such satisfaction in the performance of it, that, when being faint and weary with his journey, he rested on _Jacob_’s well, and intreated water of the _Samaritan_ woman; the success of his conference with her, and the accession that was made to the kingdom of God, filled his mind with such delight, as seemed to redound to his very body, refreshing his spirits, and making him forget his thirst, and refuse the meat which he had sent his disciples to buy. Nor was he less patient and submissive in suffering the will of God, than diligent in doing of it. He endured the sharpest afflictions, and extremest miseries that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without a repining thought, or discontented word. For though he was far from a stupid insensibility, and had as quick a sense of pain as other men, and the deepest apprehension of what he was to suffer in his soul, (as his _bloody sweat_, and the _sore amazement and sorrow_ which he professed, do abundantly declare) yet did he intirely submit to that severe dispensation of providence, and willingly acquiesced in it.

_His constant devotion._

17. Another instance of his love to God, was his delight in conversing with him by prayer; which made him frequently retire from the world, and spend whole nights in that heavenly exercise; though he had no sins to confess, and but few secular interests to pray for: which, alas! are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to our devotions. Nay, we may say his whole life was prayer, a constant course of communion with God. If the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the fire still kept alive. Nor was he ever surprized with that dulness of spirit which we must many times wrestle with, before we can be fit for the exercise of devotion.

_His charity to men._

18. In the second place I shall speak of love towards all men; but he who would express it must transcribe the history of the gospel: for scarce any thing is recorded to have been done or spoken by him, which was not designed for the good of some one or other. All his miraculous works were instances of his goodness, as well as his power, and they benefited those on whom they were wrought, as well as amazed the beholders. His charity was not confined to his kindred, or relations; nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endearments of that peculiar friendship which he carried toward the beloved disciple. But every one was his _friend_ who obeyed his _holy commands_, John xv. 4. and _Whosoever did the will of his Father_, the same was to him as _his brother, and sister, and mother_.

19. Never was any unwelcome to him, who came with an honest intention; nor did he deny any request, which tended to the good of those that asked it: So that what was spoken of the _Roman_ Emperor, whom, for his goodness, they called the _darling of mankind_, was really performed by him, that never any departed from him with a heavy countenance, except that rich youth, _Mark_ x. who was sorry to hear that the kingdom of heaven stood at so high a rate, and that he could not save his soul and his money too. The ingenuity that appeared in his first address, had already procured some kindness for him; for it is said, _And Jesus beholding him, loved him_. But must he for his sake cut out a new way to heaven, and alter the nature of things; which makes it impossible that a covetous man should be happy?

_His meekness._

20. And what shall I speak of his meekness, who could encounter the monstrous ingratitude of that miscreant who betrayed him, in no harsher terms than these, _Judas betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss_? What further evidence could we desire of his fervent and unbounded charity, than that he willingly laid down his life for his most bitter enemies, and mingling his prayers with his blood, besought the Father that his death might not be laid to their charge, but might become the means of eternal life, to those very persons who procured it.

_His purity._

21. The third branch of the divine life is _purity_, a neglect of worldly enjoyments and accommodations, and a resolute enduring of all such troubles as we meet with in the doing of our duty. Now surely if ever any person was wholly dead to all the pleasures of the natural life, it was the blessed Jesus; who seldom tasted them when they came in his way, but never stept out of his road to seek them. Though he allowed others the comforts of wedlock, and honoured marriage with his presence, yet he chose the severity of a virgin life: and though he supplied the want of wine with a miracle, yet he would not work one for the relief of his own hunger in the wilderness. So gracious was he in allowing others such gratifications, as himself thought good to abstain from, and supplying not only their pressing necessities, but also their less considerable wants. We many times hear of our Saviour’s sighs, and groans, and tears, but never that he laughed, so that through his whole life he answered that character given of him by the prophet, _A man of sorrows, and acquainted with griefs_. Nor were the troubles of his life other than matters of choice: for never did there any appear on the stage of the world with greater advantages to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. He who could bring together such a prodigious number of fishes into his disciples net, and at another time receive that tribute from a fish which he was to pay to the temple, might easily have made himself the richest person in the world; nay, without any money, he could have maintained an army powerful enough to have jostled _Cæsar_ out of his throne, having oftner than once fed several thousands with a few loaves and small fishes: but to shew how small esteem he had of all the enjoyments in the world, he chose to live in so poor and mean a condition, that _though the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had nests, yet he, who was Lord of all things, had not where to lay his head_. He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor affect the acquaintance of great ones; but being reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fishermen, and other such poor people, for his companions, and lived at such a rate as suited with the meanness of that condition.

_His humility._

22. And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his _humility_, the last branch of the divine life, wherein he was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might _learn of him to be meek and lowly in heart_. I shall not now speak of that infinite condescension of the eternal Son of God, in taking our nature upon him; but only reflect on his lowly deportment while he was in the world. He had none of those sins and imperfections, which may justly humble the best of men; yet he was so entirely swallowed up with a deep sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared as nothing in his own eyes, I mean so far as he was a creature. He considered those eminent perfections which shined in his blessed soul as not his own, but the gifts of God; and therefore assumed nothing to himself for them, but with the profoundest humility renounced all pretences to them. Hence did he refuse that ordinary compellation of _good Master_, from one, who, it seems, was ignorant of his divinity: _Why callest thou me good? There is none good but God only._ As if he had said, “The goodness of any creature (and such only thou takest me to be) is not worthy to be named or taken notice of; it is God alone who is originally and essentially good.” He never made use of his miraculous power for vanity or ostentation: he would not gratify the curiosity of the _Jews_ with a sign from heaven, some prodigious appearance in the air; nor would he follow the advice of his countrymen and kindred, who would have had all his great works performed in the eyes of the world, for gaining him the greater fame. When his charity had prompted him to the relief of the miserable, his humility made him many times enjoin the concealment of the miracle; and when the glory of God, and the design for which he came into the world, required the publication of them, he ascribed the honour of all to his Father, telling them, _That of himself he was able to do nothing_.

23. I cannot insist on all the instances of humility in his deportment towards men; his withdrawing himself when they would have made him a king; his subjection, not only to his blessed Mother, but to her husband, during his younger years, and his submission to all the indignities and affronts which his rude and malicious enemies put upon him: the history of his holy life, recorded by those who conversed with him, is full of such passages as these; and indeed the serious and attentive study of it, is the best way to get right measures of humility, and all the other parts of religion, which I have been endeavouring to describe.

Let me here subjoin a prayer that may be proper when one, who had formerly entertained some false notions of religion, begins to discover what it is.