A Good Preach­er should be a good Ora­tor. Pure lan­guage and Sound doc­trine may well stand together. Bad Rhetorick will marre the Text, which a gentle paraphrase can make both plain and plea­sant. Oratory though it doe not constitute a Divine in his [Page 2] Essence, yet it makes him pow­erful in his speech. The word of God is not the [...] words of A [...], and [...] [...] ciples prove more effectual by a gracious utterance. Divinity is the Queen and the Mistresse of all other Sciences; and 'tis sit that such a Sovereigne should be dress'd in stately Robes. The Minister is the Ambassador of Heaven, and shall he present his message in a scurvy Style? his expressions may be clear and yet Eloquent. A sentence well cloathed does not perplex, but help the un­derstanding, and quicken the memory. What reasonable Hearer can sleep at a Sermon composed by a wakeful braine? An Elaborate phrase should make our ears glow and stirre [Page 3] up our attention to a diligent admiration. An affectation of Eloquence in the pulpit is unhandsome; but fit allusi­ons and significant terms are both comely, useful, and ne­cessary.

There is much difference betwixt knowledge and true wisdom. Learning sometimes makes men very fooles. 'Tis true indeed, that the Arts and Sciences are the riches of the soul, but without a discreet use no better then a treasure either prodigally spent, or super­stitiously kept under lock and key. Some have grown more wise by experience than others by their deep study and revo­lution [Page 4] of Authors. They that want most do not always catch most; and oftentimes a natural wit far excels the greatest in­dustry. Labour does but rack the brains, and often overturn it. The most learned are so far from a solid understand­ing, that many times they fall into madnesse the extremity of folly. Mens writings for the most part are full of for­mality, but their actions speak the proper sense of their mindes. Books commonly are nothing but phrase, and style, and fancy; but the soakest instructions proceed from Ex­ample. He that hath no other way to discover himself but by the Pen, will prove an ob­ject of more scorn then admira­tion. Much reading is a great [Page 5] hindrance to good breeding; and hence it is that the best Schollars are such perfect clowns. The truth is, the deep­est apprehension, the quickest judgement may be very igno­rant in the matter of our con­versation both towards God and towards man. Learning of it Selfe is neither grace nor manners, though it may be an Ornament to both.

When I behold some rare picture or any other curious piece, my judgement present­ly informs me that some curi­ous Artist had a hand in it. Every stately building directs us to the consideration of him that built it. And shall not [Page 6] the contemplation of the world and the knowledge of so many excellent things therein contained, constraine us to acknowledge a Supream power that over-rules all? The Ship cannot saile in a di­rect course without a Pilot: the City cannot be well go­verned without a Magistrate: and can any man conceive that those lights of heaven, the Stars could continue their equal courses without his providence that made them? or that the earth could remain so well ordered by Natures Law, if there were not some over-ruling Lord to command and direct? He is but dimme sighted that cannot behold the omnipotence of God, the good­ness, the favour, and love of [Page 7] God to man in this outward frame and fabrick of crea­ted powers; Yet the Sunne will shine though men be blinde, and the invisible Dei­ty is still himself, though the Atheist will not believe it.

Friendship if once broken is hardly made up again. Those things which are of a most pure composition if once dis­solved are never united. Pieces of chrystal cannot be sode­red: so hard it is to reconcile them, who from close famili­arity are divided into mutual hatred. Where is there great­er enmity then betwixt Bre­thren? whom Nature hath linked together, the Devil [Page 8] can divorce into everlasting discord. The Reason of this (I conceive) is, because the best things corrupted become worse: and when vertue it self shall degenerate into sin, who can hope for any repa­ration or recovery to good­ness?

Too much desire of learn­ing leads a man into a discon­tented ignorance. Curiosity is the bain of our soules, the nurse of infidelity. He that would know more then he can, will not believe so much as he ought. He that thrusts him­self into unnecessary speculati­ons, will first neglect, and at last forget a necessary truth. He that strives for more then he [Page 9] can well apprehend, may lose what he hath already obtain­ed. A modest search into the secrets of nature is both easie, pleasant, and profitable; but to dive into the depths of an impossible Art will but puzzle and distract the brain. An in­quisitive soul may go farre, and finde out much; but still he shall see more ground before him then he hath left behind. Some men that would seeme to understand all things, are most ignorant. A curious in­quiry puts them into a vaine conceit of their own strength and parts, the onely traytor to the understanding. The beames and light of the Sunne refresh the sight; but if we fix our eye upon it, the ob­ject offends, and but dazels [Page 10] the beholder. He that knew most, Eccl. 1.14 knew that the upshot of all was but vanity and vex­ation of Spirit.

We are naturally more sensible of Affliction then of comfort. Haman is more trou­bled with one crosse from Mordecai, then satisfied with all the reverence of his Ado­rers; which yet proceeds from an over-valuation of our content: whence it is that we are so affected in the losse or least interruption of our happinesse; presently struck dead if our expectation be deceiv'd. David cries out for his sonne Absolon, 2 Sam. 18 33 as if the whole frame of nature had [Page 11] been involved in his destructi­on, when for his own sake he had more reason to be trans­ported with passions of joy. Here was not onely an excess, but a misprision of love; a mistake of natural affection. He was so swallowed up with the sense of his supposed misery, that he knew not how to va­lue a good turn. The Object of his fond delight did suppress the clearness of his judgement, that he could not distinguish betwixt a benefit and an in­jury. So apt are we to re­pine at our crosses from too much indulgence to our de­lights, that commonly we take one for the other.

Idlenesse is the barrennesse of the soul. All living crea­tures have by nature some kinde of employment, the benefit of which is commu­nicated to the rest of the world. The worst things have some goodnesse, and are still busied in some active engage­ment for a generall use and profit. Plants and herbs which have no visible motion advance themselves by degrees into a fruitful state and condition. The creature without life, is not without action. With what a brave carere the shi­ning Sunne spreads his diurnal pace? And how the sister Moon in a constant change [Page 13] follow this leading dance? How nimble is the fire, how piercing is the air? How the Sea rowles about with perpetual waves? All which may teach man a lesson of laborious di­ligence, and raise him from the lethargy of a non-imploy­ment. Laziness corrupts both the body and the minde. No­thing can be so tedious and irksome as to want busi­ness. Exercise keeps the heart in tune, and feeds the spirits with a lively sense, whereas doing nothing disorders the brain, and starves the quickest wits into a dull discontent.

Boldness is an Ornament to a vertuous man: but when [Page 14] 'tis put on to boulster up a vi­cious act, nothing more odious. Bashful vertue 'tis a foolish sin, and bold vice is a sinful bra­very. Too much modesty in­tangles the soule with many impediments; and over-daring drives headlong into infinite dangers. Remorse for sinning is a divine grace, but to be a­shamed of goodnesse is the next way that leads to impiety. How many good natures have betray'd themselves for want of courage to deny an unrea­sonable importunity? As I would not stubbornly reject the worst request, so I shall ne­ver grant the be [...]t without some intimation of power in the libertie of a denial. I will neither accept nor afford any thing in such a manner, [Page 15] but that the world shall see, I could easily forbear to confer, and as easily refuse a benefit.

If a man were nothing but all eare, yet a boundlesse tongue would tire his patience. And commonly those that are tedi­ous in their discourse, are also impertinent. He that regards his matter, will not strive for words. He that loves to hear himself talk, considers not what will please others. How was poore Horace tortured with the shuffling shifting voice of Crispinus! Like the scraping of a trencher, or the noise of a drum to a learned Student, such are the ill sounds of a talkative mouth to a judi­cious [Page 16] hearer. The teeth and lips seeme to be drawn out as a circle to keep in the slippe­ry speech; which must needs run some hazard when it runs too far without these lines of communication. But if a pre­sent danger cannot fright the secure speaker, I wish those that love to speak much would Mat. 12.36consider that one day they must give an account for every idle word.

It is an easie task to censure another. Hardly any thing can be undertaken without some mistakes. No man can express himself so exactly, but a censorious critick will finde matter enough to work upon. We may easily spy a fault [Page 17] where there are many vertues. It is not always a part of wis­dom to discover a folly. Igno­rance is a busie fool that would seem wise by condemning o­thers, when it knows least it self. He that is alwayes ra­king in ashes will but foule his own face; and he that seeks to diminish the credit of his neighbour, may cast a blemish upon his own reputation.

There are certain birds of Paradise which make the best musick in a Cage. The sweet singer of Israel was most full of melody in his greatest Af­flictions. David could blesse God in a cave, Iob on the dunghill. The prison sometimes [Page 18] is the Saints Quire, where the heart is at liberty, while the body is under restraint, and their very groans are accepta­ble notes of praise and bene­diction.

The good mans sorrow is ne­ver without some joy. Our ve­ry hope can afford us songs of deliverance. When our hea­venly father makes up the consort, who can forbeare to tune his voice and keep time with him? Heaven and hap­pinesse waits upon them that with patience attend his lea­sure. Gods presence translates the Dungeon into a Sanctuary, turns Babylon to Hierusalem, captivity into triumph. Our Jaylors are our life-guard, our enemies our servants, since they serve but as instru­ments [Page 19] to his will upon us, who is indeed our Master. He is happy enough that can pa­tiently expect salvation. As the Marriner keepes under hatches till the tempest be al­layed, so our present misery is nothing but a safe retiring till all dangerous stormes be blown over, and we arive at last to the Haven of our Rest.

In experience I shall ob­serve this Rule; rather spend too little then too much. For covetousness there may be some satisfaction, but the Pro­digal is lost beyond all Re­demption. He that spends above his abilities will never be able to make himselfe a­mends. [Page 20] I had rather deceive the expectations of others, then cosen my self. He that straines his estate to be ac­counted liberal, may be thought covetous when all's spent: for the world is most apt to censure those that de­cline their former course. Give God his due in Tythes, the poor in Almes, and thy self in Ne­cessaries, and there will re­maine no great superfluitie of wealth to cast away in va­nity.

Our joys in this world do not alwayes run smooth and clear. The best Contentments have some kinde of muddy mixture; the sweetest cup hath some Lees at the bottom. Our [Page 21] outward peace is frequently in­terrupted; our inward peace is oftentimes eclipsed. Here is no constant satisfaction in this Region of vicissitude. Our comforts are neither full nor permanent. We must look for that happinesse in heaven. Who would live in this vale of brittle earth where every thing consumes, and nothing is everlasting? In the highest advancement some clouds will overshadow us. In the heighth of joy, there may be a depth of sorrow. There is a kinde of connexion in contrarieties. Here prosperity and adversity are linked together. It is said of Hezekiah after his glo­rious victory over the host of Zenacherib, Isa. 38.1. that in those dayes Hezekiah was sick to the [Page 22] death. Those dayes are these dayes, and all dayes in our sphere, where the greatest blessings are perpetually at­tended with some discontents, and such sometimes that sick­nesse or death would be a blessed remedy.

Nothing makes the work of God in the compositions of our bodies more admirable then the beauty of their shape and curious Art used in the workmanship. For this cause the Royal Prophet considering his Creation cries out as one ravished with admiration, I will praise thee, Psal. 139.14 for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. No image or picture can be [Page 23] compared with the form of a mans body: no imbroydered piece can be so well wrought, or set out with such variety of excellent figures. But when we consider that besides, there is a soul inclosed in this ex­quisite frame, as farre above it as that above all other things, we cannot be so unthankful or unreasonable as not to ac­knowledge that the divine hand of heaven hath a pecu­liar influence of benediction and favour to the race of man­kinde, beyond all other Crea­tures whatsoever.

In every work, we are to regard as well the manner of performing it, as the work it self. It is not enough to say [Page 24] our prayers, to go to Church, to hear a Sermon, to receive the Sacrament, to gives alms; but all this must be perfor­med with hearty devotion. Though the Ark be brought to his place of Rest, yet God is not well pleased to have it drawn with Oxen in a Cart. 1 Sam. 6. The widows two mites were more acceptable then all the others wealth: she gave all she had with all her heart, whereas they perhaps out of pride, or ostentation, cast in their superfluities into the com­mon treasure. A cup of cold water freely given shall not want a reward. Matth. 10.42 Our best ser­vices are nothing worth if not seasoned with truth and discre­tion. Therefore God once made a breach upon his people, [Page 25] because they sought him not after the due order. Our duties are undutiful if not duly marshalled and fitly ranked. Service without a method is worse then ill manners. No a­ction can be well done without a good meaning; none well meant without a comely and decent behaviour. Every cir­cumstance must bear the sense of sound wisdome and cleare justice.

Beauty is a grace that pro­ceeds from the proportion, a­greement, and harmony of things; it is then most seem­ly in the body of man when it follows nature alone with­out any blemish or defect. How far we may use the help of [Page 26] Art, and disguise a deformi­ty to appeare more comely then we are by our Creation, a sober Christian may easily resolve. As God is not plea­sed if we mangle and ma [...]erate our bodies with cruel tortures, so he cannot but be offended when we over-garnish them with gaudy colours, and lay on the varnish of a deep com­plexion. It is to be feared that they can hardly speak from their heart, that cannot blush from their own blood. When the face can dissemble so well, the tongue may be sus­pected too. A painted feature is the emblem of vice, which would seem to be adorned with the blushing colours of vertue, when she intends no­thing but temptation. We [Page 27] are not to disfigure our faces when we fast in our greatest sorrow; nor reform them too much when we feast in our highest mirth; we must not mar Gods work; we must not mend it so as if it should need no ad­ditions of glory hereafter.

Wicked men judge of o­ther mens afflictions by their own. 2 Sam. 1. The Amalekite was very well pleased with the death of Saul; and therefore thought the news would be welcome to David, for which, instead of a reward, he lost his life. It sounds very ill in Davids ear that his enemy was destroyed; though he stood betwixt him and a [Page 28] Crown. He desires not to rise in his Throne by the fall of another. He finds no mat­ter of joy in a Kingdome got by blood. Thus different are the thoughts of a good soul from the vaine conceits and imaginations of a worldly minde. Therefore they de­ceive themselves that measure the disposition of others by their own standard. The giddy drunkard thinkes the world runs round as well as his braines. The vi­tious man accounts vertue an impossibility, and will not be perswaded that there is any such thing indeed as conscience or Religion, till at last woful experience constraine him to confess the truth with too late Repentance.

The prosperity of wicked men may breed in weak mindes some doubt of Gods provi­dence. They live as if they had a security for everlast­ing happiness. Whereas ver­tue lies unregarded, and con­temned, assaulted with con­tinual stormes of misery. The bold sinner never misses of pre­ferment, but modest innocence may starve without compassi­on. How seldome do we see any preferred for his deser­ving qualities? Villany is so much in fashion, that 'tis ab­surd to be vertuous. 'Tis true, Vice is the gallant of this world, and the only favourite of fortune; but our observa­tion [Page 30] may yet inform us, that shame is the consequent of sin. There are few exorbitant crimes but have their attend­ed torments, though not al­wayes apprehended. Both punishments and blessings have their season of maturity. The Judgements of God never faile, though they may be pro­tracted. Some corrections are in secret. All offences are not branded with a publick mark. If there were no other torment but the guilt it selfe, it were enough to express the misery of a sinful life.

The soul in respect of the body may be compared to an excellent Workman, who [Page 31] cannot labour in his occupa­tion without some necessary instruments, and those well wrought and prepared to his hand. The most skilful Mu­sician cannot raise any har­mony from an instrument of musick out of tune. We are therefore to be very careful of these external parts, since the spirit which moves in them can naturally produce no a­ctions of worth, if this instru­mental frame be out of order. Hence it is that those men who abuse their bodies by the vio­lence of intemperate sinnes, are sometimes over-taken, either with a sleepy dulnesse, or a wilde distraction. Their souls are not able to produce any worthy Act after a de­fect contracted upon their [Page 32] Organs, or else are unwilling to be restrained and confined to a bad lodging, or a loath­some dungeon. A good ser­vant is a credit to his Master: a fine case is an Ornament to the jewel: a sound body is an honour to his immortal mistris, and is most fit to be a partner with her in everlasting glory. Whereas we may justly fear that they who bury them­selves alive in rottennesse, shall inherit nothing but that which is worse then corrupti­on, a generation of perpetual tor­ments.

It is strange to see what al­terations time will make. Those works which were built to perpetuate the memo­ry [Page 33] of our Ancestors, are now laid level with the dust, how miserable were man if all his happinesse consisted in the remnant of a glorious Name! and yet this was all the immortality which some expected after death. The strongest Bulwarks of Renown cannot resist the breath of all-devouring age. Change and decay are the elements of eve­ry state and condition. The most ancient monuments and bones of the dead have been defaced with sacrilegious hands. There is so little cer­tainty in what we enjoy, that we cannot hope to bequeath an infallible substance to our posterity. We may some­times observe more changes in a few years, then in all [Page 34] probability of expectation many ages could produce. The world is like a Lottery where a man may be made or undone in a moment. The same per­son is Craesus to day and Irus tomorrow. There is no con­fidence or assurance in any worldly thing; we can nei­ther recal what is past, com­mand what is present, nor pre­vent what is to come.

Amongst all those varieties of instruments made for the service and use of man, we cannot but admire the great nobility and worth of speech, with which he is endued a­bove other creatures. By this we can convey our coun­sels [Page 35] and thoughts to one ano­ther, without this there would be but little benefit of the sense and understanding which God hath bestowed upon us. Beasts have a con­fused noise, and by that in some measure can declare their meaning: but men on­ly can dispense an articular sound. We have reason therefore to be careful how we deliver our selves, and utter our conceptions in such words as may tend to the edi­fication of others, and the glory of our Maker.

Asa was a very good son of very bad parents. Goodness proceeds from the favour [Page 36] and grace of God, is not born with us, nor yet conveyed in­to our hearts by breeding and strict education. The best instructions are often rejected; and the worst principles cannot corrupt that heart which the holy Spirit is pleased to san­ctifie. If men could entaile their vertues with their estates, what a world of glorious Saints would this world af­ford? On the other side, if vice were hereditary, what swarms of wickednesse would still increase? In all events whether of good or evill, let us alwayes admire the gracious providence of our heavenly Father.

He that hath but a meane fortune must be careful not to plant himself amongst his Su­periors, for great men always suspect the endeavours of those that are below them; and fearing their own great­ness may be supplanted in time, prevent such a suspected mischief with the ruine of their neighbours. Power and Majesty can brook no equals. A rich neighbour is compa­red to a Pyke, that devoutes all the younger Fry. Pha­raohs fat-kine eat up the leane. And the Sea swallows the smaller Rivers. The poor live best with the poore, as Bees thrives together in a swarme. [Page 38] But the sheep are in continual fear when the wolfe is near.

Religion and riches seldom meet together. They that are kept down with such cloddes of earth can hardly reach at the joys of heaven. The Rich-man is so puff'd up with the leaven of his wealth, that he cannot enter in at the strait-gate, and the way thi­ther is too narrow for his spreading greatnesse. Poore Lazarus was advanced to the bosome of Abraham, while Di­ves lay frying in the bowels of Hell. Grace and abundance are not alwayes inconsistent; but Poverty hath fewer tem­ptations, and less danger. Nay [Page 39] even in this world, plenty doth but crosse content; and he that hath all things to his minde, yet wants a mind to enjoy all he hath. Feare of loosing, care of preserving, envy of neighbours, opposition of enemies, so disturb his rest, that he cannot truly say, soul, take thy ease here, or soul, go to heaven hereafter.

God and the world never agree in the measure of time. The purpose of his will; not the motion of the Sunne determines his houres. Did we set our wills by his decree, Gods clock and ours would alwayes strike together. Our affections are poised with the weights [Page 40] of selfe-love and ambition, which move too fast in regard of our true necessity which he only respects. The least delay seems tedious to an hasty minde, the longest is but short to the patient soul. Think not then that he is slow who never failes in the houre of his promise, though he answer not the very minute of our ex­pectation.

Presumption is the harbin­ger of destruction. When men grow wanton in their sins, judgement is not farre from their elbows. 1 Sam. 15.32. Agag cries out most sweetly, the bitter­ness of death is past, when rea­dy to be hewed in pieces. When his hopes were at the [Page 41] highest pitch, Samuel laid him even with the ground. The candle makes the greatest blaze in the socket, but pre­sently expires with an un­wholesome smell. The bold sinner is most confident at his latter end, but that confidence betrays him to the power of utter darknesse.

He that begins well gives a good hope of his future proceedings. Yet the first actions of men do not always entaile a perpetuity of grace. Perseverance is a rare and e­miment vertue. Ioash and Nero were two vertuous Prin­ces under two excellent Tu­tors; but very bad Kings both, [Page 42] their after reignes did utterly disprove their former subje­ction. He that is rightly in­structed in his youth will doe something worthy of his edu­cation; but those precepts which our Masters distill in­to the braine, are not ever rooted in the heart. Time will weare out the impressi­on of goodnesse made upon our tender yeares, if not pre­served and blessed by the se­cret insinuations, and continual motions of a divine spirit.

It is impossible to gaine the good opinion of all the world. Let my conversation be never so innocent, there will be found some detractors to un­dervalue [Page 43] my reputation. If I do ill, the vertuous cannot love me; if well, the wicked must needs be my enemies. He that can clearly avoid the strokes of a censorious tongue hath more wit then honesty, and may be presumed to comply with all occasions to main­taine his credit, and in that looseth what he so slily en­deavours to preserve. I shall labour therefore to approve my self to God and my con­science; and let others say what they please: my owne innocency is my own satisfa­ction.

He that sowes the winde, reaps the whirlewinde. Bad actions are onely fruitfull to [Page 44] destruction. Wickedness is al­wayes attended with death. The end still answers the beginning. We cannot gather Grapes of Thornes, or Figges of Thistles. He that meanes to thrive, let him use those means to which the Provi­dence of God addes a bles­sing. For what can any man expect but wages answerable to his work? The evil of sin, and the evil of punishment go hand in hand together; but grace and goodnesse are united with everlasting glory.

Sinne in the very act may be full of pleasure; but it always leaves a sting behind it. The guilt and horror lies close a [Page 45] while in ambush, and then starts up to surprize the offen­der. The devil leads us in a dance to hell, and so leaves us to our ruine: like a crafty strumpet that with her flatter­ing outside draws in the secure sinner to his own destruction, fits him with a fine disease in the rear of his delight. Vain man! How is folly ingraffed to thy very nature, that ha­ving so often tried the deceit of vice, wilt yet give credit to her pleasing smiles, and be thus courted to a miserable downfall.

The want of things makes them precious. We are scarce sensible of a benefit which we [Page 46] enjoy. Before possession we think our selves miserable; and when our desires are satis­fied, we growe weary of our happinesse. The fond lover can court his Mistris with Oaths and Protestations, whom af­terwards he esteemes no bet­ter then his necessary drudge. A poor man knows the value of a penny, when the rich Pro­digal throwes away his pounds. How sweet is Liberty and Re­demption to the Captive? Health and strength to the diseased? We are eager for those bles­sings which are denied us, and unthankful for those which we obtain. The apprehension is still fixt upon the object which is absent, as not think­ing that which is present worth a serious and stedfast [Page 47] view. But certainly that man is most true to his owne content that can rightly value a blessing enjoyed, and com­fortably use those favours which God and nature have bestowed upon him. As I would not overvalue any thing, least I be too much af­fected with grief in the loss, so, I will learn to know the just price of what I have, least my desire of more in­crease beyond all measure of satisfaction.

Those of the ancient Philo­sophers that were great admi­rers of Eloquence have pro­pounded the image of an O­rator, as it were of one who [Page 48] in speaking drew out the gol­den chaine from his tongue, and fastned it to the eares of his Auditors. Such vertue and power it hath to hold men to moderate and guide their affections; such is the pleasing violence of a few well placed words, that our desires seeme to be captivated and bound up to the will of the Speak­er. Truth indeed is truth though it be plainly deliver­ed; Religion can oblige the soul without these glorious bonds: yet when the daugh­ter of time, and the mother of peace appear in their hand­some Robes, the heart must be very stubborne and obstinate that will not yeeld it self a willing slave.

There is no designe be it never so wicked but is masked with a pretence of some good: for that which is absolutely evil, and plainly appears so to be, hath no agreement with the will of man: and therefore the worst mischiefs are commonly set on foot un­der a colour and shadow of goodnesse. Vice is like a paint­ed strumpet which seems ex­traordinary faire and comely, when perhaps there is rotten­nesse in the bones, as well as de­formity in the soul. Treachery and mischief have alwayes a pleasing outside, whereas ver­tue for the most part goes plaine and naked. Well may [Page 50] that man set himself out that hath nothing lovely within. Wickednesse if it be not courtly, will never be courted. And the gastly visage of sin, if it were not covered with an handsome vaile, could ne­ver tempt men to forsake their own freedome and be­come the servants of so vile a Mistresse.

I will be kinde and courte­ous to all, but familiar with none but my intimate and equal friends: for the love of in­feriours often-times degene­rates into contemp [...]. Yet I had rather my carriage should sa­vour of too much humility then over-much state: for the affe­ctions [Page 51] which proceed from popularity are not so dange­rous as those passions of feare and envy which alwayes at­tend the proud. I will not think my self too good to look upon any man; but I will be sure that he whom I receive into my bosome acquaintance shall be at least as good a man as my selfe.

The death of a Martyr is attended with much glory and renown: who would not wil­lingly embrace and entertaine that profession which is more precious then life it self? The condemned innocent hath some­times converted the unjust Iudge, and by a glorious elu­ctation [Page 52] over-thrown the malice and envy of his adversaries. Eternity is the reward of eve­ry true Christian: yet they that die for Religion think they purchase heaven at an easie rare. The lively voice of a powerful preacher is not armed with such effectual E­loquence. They that will not be won with words, cannot but admire the cheerful Rhe­torick of their constant resolu­tions. The Roman ensignes never spread so farre as the Christian standard: and those Red-characters have confuted the Egyptian learning. If we cannot maintain this Doctrine with the losse of life, it is in vain to teach it with the expence of breath. But how far are they out of fashion that [Page 53] study to disgrace it with both; and cannot be perswaded to entertain this profitable in­struction within the verge of their opinion or practise.

As we cannot live without eating and drinking, so it is requisite that we receive our sustenance with that modera­tion that no more be taken in then is necessary for the nou­rishment and refection of our bodies. If we take too little, we are guilty of Theft and Robbery upon our selves; if too much, of violence and oppression, and instead of satisfaction im­pose a burthen upon the flesh, and for preservation induce destruction; but the danger [Page 54] that falls out by not observing a mediocritie is more to be feared on one side then the o­ther. Our appetite is more apt to offend in the excesse then in the defect. They that use their daily bread as Gods blessing, cannot transgress ei­ther way; but like a skilful Chymist that can refine his gross materials into a pure quin­tessence by the Art of sobriety, temperance and gratitude, are wont from their bodily food to extract a dyet for the soule which shall feed and preserve it to eternal life.

A counterfeit zeale will degenerate into malice. There are no such Enemies to the [Page 55] House of God as those that seem to be the greatest friends. A profest adversary to the Church may be avoided; but a close enemy will not disco­ver his hatred till it be too late to resist. Thus mischief can walk in the disguise of Religion; and Envy plays the Jesuite in a holy mask. I will always suspect his heart whose tongue flames with sacred words, when wanting their fit opportunities, and deliver­ed in a hasty fit of devout passion. Prov. 7.16 Be not righteous o­vermuch is good Counsel. For Extreame puritie will turne at length into mani­fest impiety.

There can be no conditi­on of peace allowed to our souls, except, while we re­main here in this earthly Garison, with our utmost strength and power we resist the rebellious corruption and tyrannicall enforcements of sin. Some learned Criticks would have Peccatum, sin, to be derived from Pecus a Beast; Properly enough if we consi­der the nature thereof: for by that we degenerate into a beastly disposition. How then can we expect the friendship and love of him who made us men, when we entertain that which deprives us (as it were) of our pecu­liar [Page 57] liar existence and proper Being? If we make an A­greement, or keep in league with wickednesse, he that as a friend is able to crown his blessings with eternity, as an enemy to destroy without end will redouble his anger and revenge.

I will endeavour to live so, as if I saw God a perpetual spectator of my actions. Ne­ver yet was sinner so destitute of shame and grace, so arm'd with impudent boldnesse, that he durst always act a mischief before every mans face. If I consider that God sees my se­cret sinnes more plainly then any man my best works. I [Page 58] should out of modesty forbear to commit a shameful fault; and out of feare to offend him who is both witnesse and Iudge.

Nothing is so generally beloved as the immortality of a Noble name; and yet this in it self confers nothing to our happinesse or misery, either before or after death: it mat­ters not how we are censured so we be really good; and if we be ill, a little credit may hide, but cannot abate our vile­nesse. The hypocrisie of a false renown doth rather ag­gravate then diminish our un­worthinesse. We may tram­ple upon the graves of the dead, but cannot hurt their [Page 59] ashes: we may Canonize a Saint, but cannot make him such by our greatest adorati­on. The goodnesse of an acti­on is in the stamp and chara­cter of its own nature, not in the value of a vain report. It were labour lost to pursue vertue, if it could be taken from us by the violence of a railing tongue. And though false witnesse may prevail for a time against the best inno­cence, yet the Iudge of all the world cannot be unjust in his judgement.

By the composition and sta­ture of our bodies we are ad­monished how to behave our selves one towards another. [Page 58] [...] [Page 59] [...] [Page 60] Every man ought to dwell within his own bounds and limits, without incroaching upon his neighbours part. As there is space and roome e­nough in the Head for those operations that are there fix­ed, and the like in the rest of the Members, by reason of that good order and consent setled amongst them: So, the world is sufficiently great to serve all, if we had but skill to bear with one a­nother, if every man would be content with his own state and condition, and satisfie himselfe with those peculiar gifts which he hath received from our Soveraign Lord as a member of the same body.

'Twas well said of one, Dreams are but dreams, that is, nothing but vanity. Yet by these a wise man can make a large discovery of his own in­clination. The night some­times represents things clear­er then the day. Sleep (which is but the shadow of death) can furnish our soules with lively thoughts. The retired fancy is not disturbed with a­ny outward object, and finds room enough to expatiate it self. To give credit to eve­ry dreame, and to neglect all, argues too much indiscretion in both extreames. Supersti­on, will make a God of no­thing; contempt, will make [Page 62] nothing of God. The Braine is not destitute of her vigilant motions under the greatest load of drouzie Morpheus. It will become our wisdome to make a useful collection of our most extravagant fancies; which we may do well e­nough and yet not abuse our faith with too much curiosity or observation.

What miseries attend this life, when our best things are but vanity and vexation. Solo­mon had a general experience of this universal frame, yet could finde nothing but em­ptiness at the bottome. The world was made of nothing, consists of forms worth no­thing, [Page 63] and at last shall re­turne to nothing. This will give our discretion wings to flie to heaven, the state of true blisse, of everlasting joy. As God made every thing by his power of nothing, so let us by grace from God make no­thing of every thing: let us slight and neglect these tran­sitory fading toyes: let us behold all as nothing, and be­hold our Lord as All in all.

He that would settle a di­stracted State, must first sub­due all his Enemies. To ex­alt a troubled Kingdome, it is necessary that some should be made shorter by the hoad. The humble sheep can never [Page 64] rest securely, while the de­vouring wolves are at liberty. Mercy and favour prove cruel sinnes when exercised upon a brood of Traitors; for the innocent suffer when such guilty men are reprieved. The members of a Common-wealth are torn in pieces, when Re­bels get a head above their Soveraigne. Divisions and factions are the tortures of a Crown; and he that neglects a correction must needs fall under it. A quick dispatch is the onely cure for such des­perate diseases. A Prince that stayes to hear what his good rebellious Subjects can say for themselves, does but suffer them to destroy him in a way of complement and send him to heaven for his happiness.

We are all apt to dispute for a priviledge of revenge; and every man would have the power of a King within him and something more. The little shrub will contend with the lofty Cedar for su­premacy. Therefore those primitive Champions underwent as hard a service in subdu­ing their affections to be pre­pared for a ready submission to the wilful tyranny of some wicked Prince, as when they endured their fiery tryal, or the most subtil torments of persecution. This (I believe) was the greatest conquest. The sweet assurance of an inno­cent death will countervaile [Page 66] the worst extremity of paine and miserable torture. A good conscience is a continual feast: or (to use the expression of a learned Divine) food in famine, freedom in fetters, health in sicknesse, life in death.

As the body cannot live ex­cept it receive such food and nourishment as is agreeable to its nature, so the soul can­not thrive if it want the know­ledge to which it is natural­ly inclined. And as life is preserved by heat in our bodi­ly parts, so the being of our foules consists in the appre­hension of that fervor which the love of God bestows upon it. The Spirit which is se­parated [Page 67] from the favour of God is in a mortal condition. The blessed estate of eternity belongs to those that are ani­mated with the warme beams of a living mercy. The means appointed to obtain this hap­pinesse is the heavenly and eternal word, which we use as a preparative to receive those precious viands of e­verlasting glory.

Marriage is a composition of both Sexes. The Crea­tion was imperfect till Adam parted with a piece of him­self to be returned with inte­rest. It is some kinde of an affront to Nature, if there be no impediment to reject wed­lock. [Page 68] It is that by which the world subsists; and he that upon reasonable termes will not improve such a benefit, is an enemy to the very essence and whole constitution of man-kinde. The chastity of a single life is a rare jewel; and blessed are they that can preserve it entire: yet honest Matrimony is the best remedy, either to prevent or cure a la­scivious disease. When cou­ples joyne with mutual favour and affection the danger of temptation is not so great; but a solitary vertue is not so well armed against the fiery darts of Satan.

Nothing becomes Authori­ty [Page 69] so well as a grave and so­ber moderation. Violence can never consist with peace. He that rises above his heighth may fall below himself. Pre­ferment is a curse to him that knows not how to use it; and many men had beene happy if they had not been exalted. A man may know his distance, and yet not part with his hu­mility, for 'tis a vertue requi­site in all conditions. It is good to moderate the great­nesse of our prosperity with humble thoughts; for he whose minde exceeds his for­tune is miserable enough in the highest advancement.

When the tongue runnes [Page 70] over, we may presume the heart is full of vanity. He that speaks much of himself never considers what he ought to do. His intention upon the fame makes him neglect the worth of his actions. He takes it for granted that all his deeds are currant coine, and therefore is bold to assume the glory of a high renown as the natural purchase of his merit. Thus presuming that he cannot act amisse he pas­ses by the best opportunities of doing good; and is onely great in the tinkling sound of his own applause and com­mendation.

He that marries meerly to [Page 71] satisfie his lust, may chance to have an ill match by the bargain; for if there be not abilities to maintain an estate, as well as strength to satis­fie desire, true love and affe­ction will soon growe cold. We cannot feed upon beauty: imbraces will not cloath the back. A single man may have patience enough to en­dure the worse of evils; but when poverty afflicts two souls together, the pain is intolle­rable. If fortune frown upon my self alone, I can finde the warres a remedy for such a disease: but what griefe can be conceived greater then this, to see my second-self ready to starve without power of re­liefe, my little Infants crying for brea [...] when I have no­thing [Page 72] but my teares to com­fort them? The meanest beggar after death is as the greatest Prince: but he that leaves his wife a poor widow, starves in his memory, and is miserable in his grave.

Death can finde us out when we least look for it. A Sum­mer Parlour is no ominous place of destruction: Judg. 3.20 yet there Eg­lon perished by the hand of Ehud. 2 Sam. 13.28 A brothers feast hath little shew of danger; yet there Amnon fell by the trea­chery of Absolon. Sitting is a posture of safety and ease: yet Eli by ill news was cast down from his seat and brake his neck. 1 Sam. 4.13 The house of God is [Page 73] no stage of violence: 2 Chron. 24.21. yet there Zechariah (or not farre from thence) was stoned by the peo­ple at the Kings Command­ment. Where Ioash found a Sanctuary, the faithful Prophet findes a way to his grave. The same Ioash was slaine on his bed, Vers. 21. a receptacle of safe repose and quiet rest; slaine by his own servants, the Ministers of preservation and defence; as if their cruelty meant to prevent his sicknesse, and give the first blow to dissolution. His kil­ling diseases could not secure him from violent hands. He little thought to be killed when he was ready to die. So his latter end came upon him unawares. Nay, then was the last year of his raign and life when he expected to [Page 74] live long, and rule at plea­sure. The sword of Justice can destroy the sinner any where, at any time, beyond all expectation. And the best Saints sometimes are sent to heaven in a trice: though never unprepared, yet alwayes ignorant of the time; though not against their will, yet without their desire.

When God resolves to make his wisdom knowne by suppressing the counsels of Wise men, it is commonly done by small means, and weak instruments; thus the poor man shall save the City: Eccl. 9.15, thus Iaell Judg. 4.21shall prevaile against Sisera above an army of men: thus [Page 75] the folly of preaching hath confounded all the learning of the world. To teach us that nothing can be done without him. The streames of our strength runne dry unless the spring of his bounty be full. The best knowledge, if not atten­dant to his grace will faint and tire at last, but the least spark of wit animated by his good­nesse shall mount up with Eagles wings. Nothing can act rightly except he inspire the motion; Yet he that looks for Revelations, and expects a divine assistance to his under­takings without all endeavour on his own part, intends but to deceive himself and others. As too much confidence in the ex­ternal helps of devotion brings in superstition, so too much neg­lect [Page 76] doth but advance profane­nesse. The very name of a University is hateful to igno­rant Atheists; and Heresies thrives best in the suppression of all learned diligence. In­dustry and grace will stand well together; strength and glory have a mutual comply­ance: Let us not trust over­much to the one, nor caution our selves with a conceit▪ of the other.

The common people judge of persons and things by the issue and event. Their love is violent upon a flourishing ob­ject, and their hate as cruel to those whom adversity hath overthrowne. Who but a [Page 77] Saul after his great victory o­ver the Ammonites? How miserable is Iob afflicted by his seeming friends? Success is the Baud to vulgar admi­ration, while misfortune and misery do but court contempt and hatred. Prosperity may challenge respect and observance when ragged honesty can hard­ly move compassion. If a good conscience did not make amends for all extreamities, nothing were more miserable then vertue in a low condition. Our miseries may informe us that God himself is offended: yet such is the profit of Affli­ction that by it we may learn to prepare our hearts for end­less joyes, and everlasting blessings.

There is not any vice more hateful to Almighty God, nor more disdainful or ridiculous in the society of man than pride: whereas a modest hu­mility doth procure many di­vine favours, and knits the souls of men in a loving sym­pathy; a powerful cement, a binding vertue; that glues and ties all relations together: a center wherin every line of the circumference meets: the mag­netique Lady of all other honou­rable graces: the Queen Regent of all other vertues; whose Sce­pter is tipp'd with a comman­ding power to tame the most desperate devil, and becalm all the turbulent combustions of [Page 79] a distracted enmity. Why should the minde disdaine to be submissive to her self, to be humble in her own thoughts? if she contemplate the great­nesse of that power that can depress the Cedars, and bring the hills down to the vallies; that hath not spared the in­habitants of the Heavenly Court, but hath deprived Lu­cifer and his train of that bles­sed Association? God can­not endure this swelling hu­mour which flies like stink­ing smoke into his nostrils, and goes out like an unsavo­ry snuff, that gives offence to all, and serves but to be thrown away and trod upon. Can I be proud of beauty, when I meet every day others farre more beautiful? Is my cox­comb [Page 80] curried with a little learning? do my brains be­gin to crow? there are those in the world, in comparison of whom I am but a plaine dunse, a forlorne ideot, a meer ignoramus. If we have much, how much more do we want? enough to make us humble. The proud Peacock is soon ta­ken down when he beholds the blacknesse of his feet: the mournfull Hien makes the height of pride recoile into a bashful penance: he can no more admire the glittering bravery of his feathered rain­bowe. So true is that of Solomon, Pro. 11.2. when pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the low­ly is wisdome. Nay such is the danger of this sinne, that from thence he inferres the [Page 81] consequence of all mischief and misfortune. Ch. 16.18 Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spi­rit before a fall; that alone is the cause of all jarring dis­cord, and confusion; onely by pride cometh contention. Ch. 13.10. When I look upon the sweet behavi­our and humble carriage of our great and powerful Redeemer, I cannot but wonder at the pride of those ambitious spirits that can hardly brook either Equal or Superiour. I cannot be proud if I consider what I am in my selfe, and what God hath done and suffered for me.

Learning as well as Religion is necessary in a Divine. Truth may be apprehended without [Page 82] much knowledge, but it cannot be taught without a large mea­sure of understanding. A man may have faith enough for himself; and yet want power to infuse it into others. The Arts are nothing else but Rea­son improved; and Divinity though it transcend, does ne­ver crosse nature. Morality is a servant to Grace; and such a Queen cannot be with­out her attendants. Conscience and Phylosophy may well stand together; a good Pastor is well furnished with both: Without the first none will, without the second none can rightly instruct the people.

I will ever suspect that man [Page 83] that makes too much haste to gaine my acquaintance. A violent affection goes away as fast as it comes; a fire of straw is easily kindled and quickly out. Love that is ripe too soon, like Summer fruit, will not hold out in the Win­ter of affliction. A durable friendship is built upon consi­deration: He that thrusts himself upon me may be pre­sumed to want honesty or judge­ment: either he hath some designe upon my person, or else is not worthy of my know­ledge. Religion is the best ground of a familiar society: And I shall think that he hath but little in himself, that will venture upon me, not yet in­formed of mine.

Travel to a wise man is a lesson of experience. The deep­est Schollars cannot by their reading comprehend so much as others that want learning have seen and observed. A narrative information is some­times no more then a dreame, many times a very lie; and 'tis impossible to make so good a collection of what we hear or read as of that which is clearly represented to the sight. Our Maps do but con­tract the understanding, which is enlarged by a full view and o­pen contemplation of the place. There are some so wedded to their home that they will not approve of any voyage [Page 85] into forraigne parts. As 'tis a practice commonly taken up by young gallants meerly for fa­shion sake, I cannot but con­demn it; but if we go with a thrifty intention to informe our selves, and have a care to the maine chance; if Gods grace and goodnesse do not leave us when we leave our Countrey. I know not any thing that can be (especially to persons of honour, and men of great birth and fortune) more convenient, lawful, and in some sort necessary.

War is our misery, and yet oftentimes proves necessary; an inevitable malady that turns to a benefit, as it may be the [Page 86] means to prevent a greater mischief, or procure an unex­pected happiness. It is the best way sometimes to expell poyson by a contrary poyson, and such destructive medicines may preserve the patient, and ruine the sicknesse. When our Peace is corrupted with luxurious sinnes, it is time to launch it with a revengefull sword: and the state must be wounded to the quick to let out her putrifaction. Who would not rise from his sleep when a just cause calls him forth? when the War-like Trumpet sounds an Alarme to our drousie spirits, who is he that can willingly embrace a senseless ease? Warre is a remedy as well as a disease, though sometimes it prove a [Page 87] remedy worse then the disease: brings health as well as sick­ness; and preserves the active minde, which having no ob­ject to work upon, consumes it self: it renues the Nobility of a decayed house, and scoures off the foule aspersions of a long contracted infamy, whe­ther false or real: it revives the natural fire that lies raked up in dust and ashes, and stirs the heart to a generous conten­tion.

A good Souldier is a good man; for grace and valour are never separated. He knowes that the practise of sinne is a dishonour to his Lord, and a disgrace to that service and imployment which he hath [Page 88] undertaken. Holiness he ac­counts the best prize, and thinks Religion a thing as ne­cessary in the field as in the Church. His carriage and conversation is most eminent and conspicuous. The most exemplary patterne of vertue, and severe example of good­ness. He maintains Christia­nity with his life, and his per­fections shine brighter than his sword. He bears a just and single heart in a righteous cause. As conscience brought him to the Warre, so that shall pre­serve him alive or dead: nor can he proceed valiantly in a­ny action without it. He al­wayes endeavours to march like a Christian, & walks wor­thy of his extraordinary cal­ling. Such he esteems it, a [Page 89] profession of extreame neces­sity, not like our mercenary Sword-men, a common trade of villany and destruction. The ten Commandments are his mil­litary orders: He measures Martial-Law by the decalogue; and hath skill to overcome his enemies without a breach upon that precept which for­bids murder. He loves con­science better then fame; and thinks it impossible to obtain the last without the first. He carries a clear countenance in a cloudy brow; looks boldly like a lion, and as he would fright the devil and all his Host, but humbly fearful like the modest Publican at the sight of God. He is free and kinde to his friends; charitable to his worst enemies; courteous and merciful [Page 90] to his captives; faithful and loyal to his Prince; good and just to all. You may discern a mannerly rudenesse in his be­haviour; an eloquent plainnesse in his speech, hearty sweet ex­pressions without complement. He is full of all deserving qua­lities, wisdome, justice, tempe­rance, liberality: These are all companions to fortitude his pe­culiar vertue. He fears not the worst mischief that can befall him, and will go on though all the powers in Hell should rise to his de­struction. He is confident­ly assured that he can lose no more then his body. His peace is made with heaven; and the greatest dangers of outward Warre cannot di­sturb that happy union. He [Page 91] dares entertain Death in any habit, in any place, or at any time. He is provided in the field, and in his chamber: and every houre he expects his last houre. In the greatest storm of ill success he carries yet fair weather in his face. His countenance is the Almanack by which others prognosti­cate their hopes and expectati­ons. If sometimes he mis­carry through a light error or mistake; his pardon may be as just as merciful: nor is it fit that all former deserts should be covered in the grave of one misfortune. A foile or two will adde more strength and courage for the next engagement. Shall small offences be writ in Marble, and constant vertues in fleeting [Page 92] sand? shall one unlucky tres­pass blot out the remembrance of many victories?

Me thinks the very name of Man should perswade us to a peaceful quietnesse: but if natural Reason cannot pre­vaile, yet the respect we have unto Religion the pro­fession of a Christian should work effectually. When I hear the name of Man, I am taken with delight as concei­ving him the Subject of peace; but when I read the title of a Christian, my hope is confirm­ed beyond expectation; yet amongst Christians we finde that discord which the Hea­thens would have blushed to [Page 93] own. The Market, the Court, the Exchange, the Hall, the Church, all places are filled with contention. Such a ge­neral deluge of distraction hath overwhelmed the world, The earth is so besprinkled with the bloody Characters of ruine, that peace cannot find a place to keep her foot-steps dry. I look upon the City and there hope to finde an a­greement, where all are guarded with the same Walls, and governed with the same Laws, and (as men in one ship) embarqued in the same common danger. But (oh shame!) How are all things here corrupted with strife and debate: Every house a Beth­lem, a cage of madnesse, where every man in a distem­pered [Page 94] rage corrects his fel­low? I saile out of this tem­pest to the Court as to a cer­taine Haven of Rest. Sure this is the Palace of peace: Here are men of wisdome and state: Here is the very heart of the people, and the eye of the Common-wealth: Here are his Vice-gerents who is the Prince of peace. The Court is the abstract of government and order; a place free from all tumultuary violence and unruly dissention; and all things promise fairly; courte­ous language, sweet imbraces, chearful meetings, and other offices of civility and humanity are placed within this circle. And yet (alas!) all this is not the shadow of true peace; but painted bravery, and [Page 95] meer hypocrisie. The true discerning spirit may behold under this mask, divided fa­ctions, secret enmity, undermi­ning treachery. Ambition and envy, self-love, and pride, grow up in this rank ground like ill weeds that can never be rooted out notwithstanding the best endeavours of a good Prince. That which I thought the habitation of peace proves a nursery of distraction, a stage of confusion, a seminary of discord; a curious brave modell of folly and madness; where contenti­on, scorne and contempt play their wanton revels under the disguise of Love. I will go to the Schools of the learned. Learning makes us men, Phi­losophy more then men, Divini­ty Saints. Surely amongst such [Page 96] I cannot misse of peace; but these have their Warre too, though lesse bloody, yet not lesse cruel. One School fights with another. In the same Academy the Orator and the Logician are together by the ears. He thinks all the Ma­jesty of Eloquence is dilated upon the palme of his hand; And the other thinks all the strength of reason is contracted into his fist: and in this posture they enter the lists. What strange and different opinions do we finde in several Au­thours? and that not for the substance but ceremonies, not for the kernel but the shell of learn­ing: a letter, a syllable, a point makes the difference: fight­ing and scolding, as if Religion and their souls lay at stake: [Page 97] and are not more angry with themselves than with others that admire them not, con­ceiving every man bound to attend their loud noise with fearful reverence. The height of disputation swells into a chollerick rage; and if the matter scape the daggers point, yet there are words which cut like a razor; a sharp style that will fetch blood from the very soul, and destroy a good name. Their subtill distincti­on serve for no other use but to divide themselves. Whe­ther shall I go at last, there is but one harbour left, Religi­on. Now certainly I am not farre from my beloved Port. I see the very Emblems and colours of peace, civil gar­ments; I hear the very sound [Page 98] of peace, the name of brother and sonne, terms of charity and community, sweet compellations, and peaceful salutations, wil­ling instructions, and courte­ous admonitions. Yet even a­mong these I meet with such Impostors as make all this but a glorious shew, a rare out­side. There is no where so much intemperance and im­moderation as in matters of judgement concerning Religi­on. Hence it is that we find such miserable distractions in the Christian world. The hearts of men divide as well as their faces; and 'tis hard to finde two as of equal form, so of one opinion. A self-conceited pride rules in every breast, and no man will be bound to forsake the conceits [Page 99] of his own brain. Difference in affection breeds division in doctrine, and variety of opinions drown the power of love and peace. I will venture once a­gain and search amongst the Matrimonial assemblies for a paire of Turtles, an husband and a wife that will not be separated: whose love is con­tracted to one family, to one fortune, to one bed: who are become one nature in a twofold habit; the same person in a divided skinne, a mutual re­presentation of one heart in two souls. Here, affection sits like a Prince attended with his Royal progeny, the most lovely object that can be re­presented to the sight; yet as in all other Relations, so likewise here, some difference [Page 100] hath crept in, which often­times proceeds to an absolute divorce, or else continues in a raging jealousie and mortal di­vision. I have but one wish more: this is the last step of my desires, that I may enjoy a resting place in the breast but of one man, or feel some sense of quietnesse and tran­quility in my own heart. I am denied this happinesse. The same man fights with himself. Reason warres with the affection; and passion with passion. We finde such a contradiction of humours in some men that they can turne into any forme. The minde is sometimes a Bull, sometimes a Serpent, and sometimes a flame of fire; and then the musick of the soule is quite [Page 101] out of tune; the Bells ring backward as in some general conflagration. Piety drives one way, Desire another. Am­bition, anger, &c. a various lust divides the four quarters of this little world. This is our wilful misery. And yet we are bold to usurp the stile and title of a Christian, al­though we do agree in every thing from the most absolute pattern, and prime Authour of Christianity. Look upon the whole volume of his life: what can we finde written there but a doctrine of good­will, and stedfast reconciliati­on? what do all his precepts and parables found of, but peace and charitable for­bearance? and no wonder, for by the judgement of a Poet, [Page 102] peace is the best of things; Isa. 32.17 by the sentence of a Prophet, the work of righteousness; by the decree of an Apostle, 1 Cor. 13.13 the great­est vertue; for this is that charity which like a true Do­ctor of peace he prefers before the tongues of men and Angels, before the gift of Prophecy, a­bove all mysteries, and all know­ledge, and all faith.

We may observe that in times of danger and destruction, good men are little regarded, and for the most part live ob­scurely. In this injustice of the world the goodnesse of God is most conspicuous. When [Page 103] the birds of prey are flut­tering abroad, the careful hen calls in her chickens to the safe protection of her wings; when the street is filled with vio­lence and tumults, the tender parent locks up the children within doores, not denying them their liberty, but thus providing for their safety and security. What greater hap­pinesse then a quiet close re­tiring roome, when blood and ruine are making merry with­out? Can we complaine of obscurity, when scarce any open place is secure e­nough? How happy was the Church under ground, when in that darknesse there was light enough to see hea­ven? In that narrow impri­sonment [Page 104] they were yet free from persecution. 1 King. 19 18 Those se­ven thousand which Elijah knew not of were well known to him that preserved them. And when Elijah himself was sought for by Iezabel, where had he been if he had been every where? They that have strength enough to burn in glo­rious flames, may scorne to save themselves by flight; but if God afford this help to our weaknesse, we have reason to be thankful for an easie judgement, which ap­pointed as the means of our deliverance turns into a bles­sing. Let me be separated from the comfortable society of my dear friends, deprived of the benefit of my owne countrey aire, exposed to [Page 105] misery and the contempt of strangers, alwayes forgotten, never observed, let me be an obscure dark inmate, a son of earth, an ignominious bastard in the worlds opinion, a neg­lected slave; I shall think this disgrace a great honour, if I may rest safely under the shadow of the Almighty.

Although mans greatest ex­cellency above other creatures consists in the nobility and worth of his Soul; yet there are other points of high va­lue and concernment in the matter, forme and use, of all the parts of which the body is composed, not to be found in any other creature besides [Page 106] Man. Whereby we are taught, that Almighty God having prepared and built this earthly lodging for such a spiritual guest, it is there­fore not to be neglected; no not after the dissolution. Our bodies are the bodies of im­mortal souls; whilest living not to be abused by intempe­rance; when dead not to be cast away with a dishonour­able neglect. Our Members are the Organs of a divine Spirit, without which it can­not exercise those admirable faculties, from whence pro­ceed all those operations of grace and vertue, which make men great and famous in the world; favourites of heaven, and glorious Saints. Our happinesse is not compleat till [Page 107] both meet: They that de­stroy and vilifie this out­ward fabrick, as much as in them lies endeavour a perpe­tual divorce and separation.

The heart is the spring of life, and the fountaine of all vitall spirits dispersed into e­very part of the body: yet notwithstanding this prehe­minence and dignity it can­not subsist without the coole refreshing of the lungs, or the veines proceeding from the liver, or the strings of the sinews, or the necessary sup­port and guard of the ribs and bones; which are as so many strong Forts and Bulwarks on every side. Thus the greatest [Page 108] men who in regard of their power and authority have the lives of others at their command, are yet so farre from being able to maintain their own greatnesse, that without the aid and defence of inferiours they must needs fall to dust. Nothing but Almighty God is absolute of it selfe, and there is not any thing that depends not in such sort, at least of something else, as that it cannot remain long in any firm state and condi­tion without the service of another. Who then can be so proud as to advance him­self above his neighbour, in such an high conceit as not to knowe he may want the least of Gods creatures for his preservation. No man is [Page 109] great but by comparison; which implies so much de­fect that he stands in need of more then what he hath, or is, to constitute the worth or being which he enjoys.

The Newter is an Hermo­phrodite in his opinion. One of little use or benefit to his Countrey. He dares hardly professe any religion, but for the time thinkes that best which is most prevalent. We may well wonder to see the strange distractions of Church and Common-wealth; but we may wonder more that any should be so indifferent to par­take of either side; such men love truth onely for their ease, [Page 110] and can easily dispence with conscience for a little pleasure. But they that are thus content to serve two Masters at once, shall have none but the devil to serve at last. He that will halt between two opini­ons can never go upright in his conversation; and we may safely conclude that that man hath little grace that hath too much Religion.

We may finde by experi­ence that our inward corrupti­ons are more dangerous than outward provocations. There is no such baite as the affection Self; which many times be­trayes the sweetest natures, and best dispositions to an unruly [Page 111] wantonnesse. Lust is a Serpent, which if once entertained windes it self into the Soul, and gnawes the Conscience while it destroys the body; till in the end it prove an in­extricable misery of madness. When the memory shall re­collect the secret pleasures of our wanton youth, and knows not whether to entertain them with horror or delight, but is feaver-shaken betwixt both, being kept warm with the remaining embers of desire, and benummed with the feare of hell, what a hard knot will this be to untie; what a la­byrinth to get out of? what a riddle to resolve? if there were no other remedie the due condsideration of the ho­linesse of God were a suffi­cient [Page 112] coercion from this evil. When I contemplate the di­vine Nature, void of all pro­fanesse and filthy corruption, so full of purity and absolute perfection, that will not endure the least defilement of sinne, my thoughts run round in a desperate carere, I begin to condemn my self, and almost repent that I was made a man. How is it possible to please him that can delight in nothing but a spotlesse in­nocence, while we bear about us this heavy burden of miser­able uncleannesse. How was the wisdom of Solomon befool­ed that could not shut his eyes from beholding this va­nity? where was the vertue of those holy Patriarchs that could not drive off such a [Page 113] wickednesse? what was the integrity of Davids heart that would entertain such a de­ceitful monster? was this the unhappinesse of their con­dition; and can I be free? Lord! what flesh and blood are we made of, if circum­vented with the necessity of such a sinful misery? which yet by the contemplation of the infinite and celestial beau­ty, may be restrained, though while we dwell here in this earthly Tabernacle, we can­not procure a total suppression. How can I runne into any actual transgression of disho­nesty if I believe the God of chastity cannot behold such a debauchment with­out offence? When therefore I feele a wanton provocati­on [Page 114] dancing in my blood, and the fire of lust begin to keep her unchast revels in this con­secrated Temple, I use no o­ther charm but thus whisper to my self, Gen. 39.9 How can I do this great evil and sinne against God.

Those afflictions strike deep­est which bereave us of the object of our love. How many parents are unwilling to be rid of a charge by the losse of a child, desiring still to be hap­py in the riches of their po­verty? How loath was Da­vid to part with his rebellious Sonne, loving him better then the safety of his Crown and Kingdome? There is a kind of Empire in the minde that [Page 115] will enjoy nothing but what it likes, and had rather want it self then her peculiar plea­sure? We are so devoted to the subject of our desires, that we seem to die in the depar­ture. The active soul cannot but appropriate her selfe to some delight, which when it failes, must needs leave be­hinde it the torment of a sad discontent. It will be our wis­dome therefore to settle our affections upon those things which never perish, which can both satisfie in the enjoyment, and not be lost in the pursuit; which will neither weare out in the fruition, nor slip from us in our expectation. Such is God; and he that relies upon any thing without relation to him, shall be sure to loose [Page 116] his hould, and cannot possi­bly obtaine the benefit of a perpetual satisfaction.

Good Councel should be wel­come from whomsoever it comes. The advice of a Ser­vant is sometimes the best part of his service. An in­feriour may direct though he cannot command; and he that will not receive any directions, because it proceeds, from one below him, is possessed with a scornful spirit of contradicti­on, which favours more of pride than wit. A pearl may be taken up though it lie in the dunghill; and 'tis mad­nesse to reject a benefit in a mean benefactor. Humility [Page 117] should instruct us that the best of us are but men, and the worst are no less. Our huma­nity makes us subject to error, which another may see bet­ter then our sel [...]es. We may justly presume that he that will never be advised by one under him, would not wil­lingly submit to any above him.

There are secrets that can­not well be communicated to our deare [...]t friends, nor will any reasonable man desire to know all that another knows; yet some men are of such a searching nature that they will sift every corner of the heart, and never rest satisfied [Page 118] till informed of that which perhaps will but trouble them when revealed. This is a mistake of those that think there is no greater obligation of friendship then a mutual participation of each others thoughts; and indeed the re­lation must needs be very great that depends upon such a trust. Yet there may be that in the minde which can­not be imparted without a wound to the receiver, nor extracted without violence; and such importunity doth mar the peace and content of affection. I will ever reserve in my self a power of conceal­ment whether the matter con­cerne me alone or another. There are some griefes that finde ease, others that grow [Page 119] worse by discovery. I will give my sorrows vent if the vessell be two full; but if there be no danger of disso­lution, 'tis best without meere harm to let them lie still smo­thered up within a silent breast, lest breaking loose they get fresh aire, and main­tain a new life to encrease my affliction.

Good Order is the life and soule of Government. In the external frame of nature we may observe a regular dispo­sition and uniformity of crea­tures. The Heavens walk in a constant course of circular motion. The Sea ebbes and flows at certain seasons. All [Page 120] things have their just begin­ning, progress and dissolution; confusion and disorder dwell no where but in Hell; and the wicked man is but an irregu­lar limb of that Region. Dis­orderly tumults proceed from the Prince of darknesse, whose Kingdome is but a medly of violence and rebellion. Factious men are of the Devils kindred; still perplexed in disturbing others. One jarring string puts all the rest out of tune; one unruly companion will spoile the peace of a faire society. I shall endeavour to keep my mind within a rea­sonable compass; for if the least passion once usurp upon the intellectual faculties, I shall be no more able to governe my selfe then a little Infant [Page 121] or a mad-man to hold the reynes of a Common-wealth.

There is a moderate use of the Creatures which exceed not the bounds of temperance; and he is most miserable that denies himself this freedom. Mirth is a jewel if beset with modesty; otherwise but a light toy to please trivial Apes and wanton Girles. No­thing doth lesse become hu­manity then a scurrilous and abusive wit. To laugh at the imperfections of others implies a kind of malice that must be fed and maintained with con­tinual mischief. Charity com­mands a strict inquiry into our neighbours goodnesse; which [Page 122] by a liberall commendation must be discovered unto the world; while defects and er­rors are laid up in a silent grave; and may sooner be reformed by example, then confined by disgrace. If the heart be clear, the brain will not run in a muddy channel. If my thoughts be disposed to entertain some sport and mirthful solace, I will be sure not to transgresse the li­mits of a charitable indulgence, a chast behaviour, and a religious integrity. I will play within the lists, and not rang abroad; then I shall not need to say, I am sorry for what I have said; or follow my invention with this unprofita­ble complaint, Wit, whither wilt thou?

Of all afflictions, poverty is none of the least: which to some is more terrible then death it self. And truely, what can more afflict a ge­nerous mind then a penurious want? yet against this and other miserable events of our various life I have a sufficient cordial from the power­ful vertue of my Religion. I have learnt therefore to be thankful in the lowest con­dition. The course of this world is full of change, so that I am never dejected with the terror of my own wants, knowing that the next day or houre may make a prize. Our happinesse is no exhalation [Page 124] drawn from any earthly mat­ter, but like the Sunne in the circle sometimes clouded ne­ver put out, continues an e­verlasting race of glory. Po­verty is not the object of my feare, which though unex­pected may finde chearfull entertainment: nor shall the tyranny of a cruel want make me sacrifice my soule in sighs and tears. Brown­bread and the Gospel is the best fare said Master Brad­ford. However if I cannot fancy so great a happiness, I will yet keep fast my integri­ty. The greatest Crosse shall not force me to be dishonest. I think I should rather starve then play the parasite for a morsel of bread.

Only the heart of man can make him miserable: for our afflictions depend much up­on opinion; and we had ra­ther s [...]ffer with repining than be happy with content. He that beares his necessities without murmuring may be subject to the gripes of for­tune, but cannot be o're­whelmed with misery. I can look upon the riches of other men with the same minde that I behold my own po­verty, and make as great a benefit of that as some of their increase. I shall not envy the rich mans superfluity, if I can but enjoy the sweetness of my own content. I have [Page 126] so much joy laid up in store as will enable me to congra­tulate the greatest extreami­ty. I admire not the glori­ous state of wickednesse; but therein contemplate the ju­stice of Divine Providence: for vertue is not distinguish­ed by any sensible reward from vice. And who dares consult with the eternal wis­dome; or who can compare with Omnipotence? This makes me chearful in the greatest calamity, and contemne all worldly things in respect of an honest fame.

I know the separation of the body and soul in regard that nature abhors all evacu­ation, [Page 127] dis-union, and dissoluti­on, may be said to be unna­tural: yet I can apprehend this dis-junction as a neces­sary means to a more glori­ous redintegration and incor­ruptible union. I know that there is a mutual relation and commerce, a friendly society and interchangable conversati­on betwixt these two: Yet I can see an image of Divini­ty, a picture of heaven, an impresse of eternity, in the inward part, which cannot appear and shine forth in its true lustre, in that genuine pu­rity and brightnesse till this dirty clay, this red earth, this body of dust be scoured off and refined for a resurrecti­on. I know that both shall meet againe so purified, so [Page 128] rarified, so together glorified, as now I cannot conceive an expression to certifie my un­derstanding, but can under­stand enough to strengthen and confirme my faith. I believe and know that both shall be renued with such perfection and absolute grace that there shall be no roome left fit for a temptation, for a disease: the Soul without hope, or fear, or anger, or grief; free from all tumultuary passion, and rebellious lusts: the body free from all paine, and anguish, and sicknesse; the whole man void of all necessity of sin and misery. I will not fear death that is the occasion of all this blessednesse. Life is nothing else but a progresse unto death; and death is no­thing [Page 129] else but an entrance into life. I know it is the end of all misery, and the beginning of all happiness. Against the fear of death, and the desire of death, I do thus conclude. I wil so live that I may die happily; I will so die that I may live eternally. Lord, give me thy grace here, and I will not doubt of thy glory hereafter.

Let our course of life be what it will we shall finde misery enough. Abroad, the Courts of Justice torment us as much as our own cares at home. The Countrey is a kind of oppression with continual labours; the Sea a confusion of dangers. Travel if we go [Page 130] out rich, is but a temptation of spoile and rapine; if poore, a provocation of scorne and contempt. Matrimony is no more then a conjunction of mutual calamities; and a single life, a solitary mischief. Children are monuments of care; and barrenness a curse of Oblivion. Youth is a tor­menting fury; Age a stump of weaknesse. What is all this life of ours which we dote upon so much but a point of time, a little grain of salt, a summer flower, a fading pleasure; and yet sleep like a severe Publican and other idle diversions our officious enemies toile away above half this inconsiderable stock of nature. What is Man but an Earthen vessel, a fraile [Page 131] bottle, a statue of snow or wax that melts at every blaze and will admit any impres­sion; a rotten chip, a withered leaf, a course thread spun out into Atomes. This is that a­nimal [...], a creature for a day, that starts up like a mushrum, and vanishes like a shoure of frogges. All things under the Sunne are vanity; but he is All vanity: a circle, a whimsey, a figure, a fancy, a feather, a trifte, a nothing, a dream of a shadow, and the shadow of a dream. He is but a living carkasse, a walking Ghost: something in a trance, a monument of death. If this be our condition while we live, who would not be ambi­tious to die?

We are but generated dust at first, and at last degenerated ashes. The soul in the body is but confined as it were to some dark prison. The grave is not so strait a lodging to the body, as the body is to the soul; for the body is not sensible of this narrow impri­sonment, but the soule eve­ry day feels the iron weight of her fleshly fetters. The flesh is a burden to the soul: are we afraid of ease? we shall never finde rest and quiet till God the Lord and propri­etary call for his abused ta­lent, and repose it safe in those eternal Mansions. What a benefit is this to be de­prived [Page 133] of that darknesse and stupidity which hindred our prospect? to be estated in an unchangable condition? to enjoy an undeterminable felicity? why should we be lesse unwilling to put off this fleshly garment than we are to undress our selves e­very night? why should we be loath to change this vile body for eternity? to shift this thread-bare-coat to be superinvested with immortal glory? what but some strange misbelief and infidelity can obstruct the desire of this happy dissolution? The world is full of miseries, and hea­ven is full of blessings; e­nough to excite the most dull heart to pant after this glo­rious change. Death in it [Page 134] self is nothing: are we afraid of nothing? are we frighted with a Chimaera? How shall I encounter with an Host, if I tremble at a shadow? There is nothing fearful in death if we embrace it with a good conscience. An honest man cannot die a dishonest death▪ It is reported of the Empe­rour Vespasian, that when he lay upon his death-bed breathing out his last, he made a sudden start, and raised himself upon his feet. Being requested to lie down again, he refused, and yeeld­ed up his spirit with these words, Oportet imperatorem stantem mori, It behoves an Emperor to die standing; which with a little change may be­come the mouth of a good [Page 135] Christian, Oportet Christia­num triumphantem mori, It behoves a Christian to die triumphing.

Every day we suck in fresh aire and breath it out again. Our very Being is but an Emblem of mortality: but after death we are no more dead: then we live in­deed when we cannot die. Here we die many deaths, but hereafter we shall live one everlasting eternal life. Here we are subject to many inconveniences, and much di­stress, there we are free from all. Who would not more willingly pass out of this world, and (if it were lawful) [Page 136] thrust himself out than stay behinde in a throng of woful confusions; can there be a worse Hell then is exercised on Earth? if there be any greater torment then the guilt of sin, sure it is prepared for those that remaine mise­rable in the judgement: What is it that doth so trou­ble our apprehension? O­ther afflictions because usual and familiar we endure well enough; by acquaintance with our misery we can arme our selvs against the violence of for­tune, the fury of injustice, the raging of poverty, the cruelty of a Tyrant. Familiarity (they say) breeds contempt: now what more common then Death? what more natural? what a world is gone before [Page 137] us? of all sorts and degrees? Kings, Prophets, Martyrs? Philosophers, Atheists, Magi­cians? And what a world will follow after? Then why do we look upon this monster with such a fearful reverence? This is the publique lot of all generation and corrupti­on. Let the manner of our death be what it will; vio­lent, or natural; painful, or sudden, or strange; let the cause be extrinsecal, or intrin­secal; from within, or from without; death it is no more but death, and what every living thing must feele. Plants wither, Flowers fade, Beasts perish, and old men die, and young m [...]n too; 'tis but a defect of heat, an eclipse of natural light. The necessity [Page 138] and inevitable certainty of death well considered may advance our courage, and ba­nish all fear. If they that delivered us into the world are themselves delivered out of it; we may easily conclude our own mortality, and say to corruption, Thou art my Fa­ther; to the morme, Job 17.14 thou art my mother and my sister. The whole Common-wealth of man is subject to this universall Law. Let unregenerate men afright themselves with this suspition: the Religious heart is brim full of joy and assu­red confidence in the merits and mercy of a powerful Sa­viour. The faithful Christi­an hath learnt his lesson be­fore-hand in the practise of an honest life: He knowes [Page 139] death to be a liberal Science, an Art of freedome and pre­ferment, of priviledge and im­munity, of recompence, of glory and immortality. To wicked guilty soules, death is both terrible and odious: because it puts an end to their transito­ry joyes, and begins their e­verlasting grief and torment: But to the gracious heart, this furious fiend appeares in the forme of a most lovely friend. It prepares him for another world while he is going out of this. Here is advantage e­nough to make amends for e­very loss. Phil. 2.21. To die is gain. He that led captivity captive, and swallowed up death in victory, is ready with em­bracing armes to receive and entertaine us. This glutton [Page 140] that devoures all flesh, is meat for every true spirit. Through the cold jawes of death we finde entrance to eternal life. When death labours to block up all passages, it findes and makes way for us to our im­mortal happinesse.

God and a good Christian are alwayes good company. He cannot want the accommo­dation of any place who en­joys the presence of him that is every where. Let me be barr'd the society of my best friends, deprived of the com­fortable aire of my own coun­trey, not suffered to see the face of any man that affects me and my welfare; in all [Page 141] this deprivation of outward happinesse, I can yet behold his face who is all goodness, and comfort, and content; who instead of pleasing discourse to pass away the time, can afford me the blessed operati­ons of his holy Spirit. As it was said of Athanasius, he fled for the Trinity, and with the Trinity; So, if I be car­ried to the utmost corners of the earth, or confined to a dark solitude, a narrow prison, a loathsome dungeon, in such a strict restraint I shall finde roome enough to contemplate, to enjoy, to admire, to adore three persons in one Deity; I shall have courage enough to hope for the happy enterview of Saints and Angels at the re­surrection, to be one of that [Page 142] heavenly association which shall never be dissolved.

That mans wisdom is meere folly that reproves another in his wrath. Good counsel is then unseasonable and there­fore unreasonable; but when his anger is past he will be more apt to understand his fault, and more ready to mend it. When the minde is in a calme, our advice may saile o­ver it with ease; but in a raging tempest the best ad­monitions run upon a despe­rate rock, and their labour is but cast away. Phisicians are not wont to administer in the height of a Feavor: nor will any wise man apply [Page 143] physick to the soul in a distem­pered fit of madnesse.

A Wise man is always more ready to hear then to speak. It is well observed, that Na­ture hath given us two ears and but one tongue: as intimating that there is more need of those then of that. This unruly in­strument is oftentimes the shame of others and the own­ers ruine. We read of none that ever were undone by hearing, but thousands by speak­ing. The eare, though it may receive, cannot possibly reach a­ny evil; but the other talka­tive Organ may discharge such mischief and folly as can never be recalled.

I would not desire to be made a Judge betweene two friends, but endeavour all I can to reconcile them. So shall I gaine the increase of a double love, and ob­taine a blessing from hea­ven for procuring peace. But if the controversie be de­cided on either side, I am sure to lose a friend, whose ill will may hurt me more then the others favour can do me good. So, though my judgement be never so upright, I am like to get little by the bargain.

Nothing doth lesse represent a sound and active resolution than anger or revenge. The Phi­losophers place this Passion in that part of the soul which is unreasonable, as conceiving that, the fittest habitation for so wilde a guest. It is said that the anger of Kings is great. Pro. 19.12 The Kings wrath is as the roaring of a lion. But this is no part of their greatness, ex­cept attended with Iustice. And in that sense our great Peace-maker did accept of that Motto to his standard. Est Nobilis ira Leonis. God him­self whose just priviledge it is to be angry, yet is quickly pa­cified. Psal. 30.5 His anger endureth but [Page 146] a moment. And shall men that are unjust in their wrath ac­cept of no satisfaction? will no length of time abate the strength and unruly violence of their furious spirits? The same God is as backward to entertaine a displeasure, as ready to forgive. For a­mongst his other attributes of mercy this is one, slow to an­ger. For our parts we are suddenly apprehensive, but never forgetful of the least of­fence. A perverse and froward disposition is quite opposite to the nature of our heavenly father. Doth he deserve the name of Man that is sensible of every wrong, and hath not will and power to strangle his passion in the birth, and at the first insurrection suppresse [Page 147] that chollerick matter with a careless smile? How much better is it to contemne than imitate the folly of another? If any man think to hurt me with an angry malice, shall I be his Ape to do the like? To revenge an others fury with my own is a grosse ab­surdity. How can I be justly angry with him when I am angry with my selfe? If I neglect an injury, the stan­ders by will understand that I am wronged: If my chollar rise, I shall but raise a ground for my adversarie to plead a cause; so the difference will be propagated to an endless strife. Enmity encreaseth. The wound is kept bleeding till at last it prove incurable; but by a milde forbearance we [Page 148] may purchase the very love of our enemies. This is the best way of conquest, to o­vercome without blows; to conquer not only the power, but the affections and will of an ad­versary: What can be more honourable than for malice to obtain mercy, for cruelty compassion, for hatred friend­ship? The evil which we think to drive away by an indiscreet revenge will return with Usury: and thus we make a reciprocal bargaine of inveterate hatred. When both sides demand satisfacti­on and neither side will grant it, what can be expected but everlasting discord? what shall be the period of such a controversie? By repining at an injury we make it our own; [Page 149] and then it may well hurt the Authour. Who would be willing to do himself a mis­chief? He that loves himself cannot hate his neighbour. For my own sake I will forbear a revenge; for whatsoever hurt another may suffer thereby, I am sure to feele the smart at home. What unequal in­justice is this? We can soone forget a great benefit but ne­ver lose the remembrance of a small displeasure: and when perhaps the same man had a good intention in both: and when we also have offended in a greater measure. In point of policy I will pardon him, that by my example he may be compelled to favour me. Can he expect forgivenesse from God that will not forgive [Page 150] his neighbour? We cannot hope for more then we are willing to part with. How can I addresse my selfe to the Throne of grace with any con­fidence or hope of reward, when my own prayers shall prove me a notorious liar? how can I from my heart say, For­give us as we forgive, Mat. 6.12. when I am resolved never to forgive?

Some would have this word Ira, Anger, to be derived from uro, to burn: because it burns and consumes all before it. It consumes the lodging wherein it lies, the heart; it consumes the object whither it goes; and looks death and destruction upon every thing in the way. [Page 151] So the Philosopher defines it, A burning (or boyling) of the blood, or an exuberancy of heat about the heart. Or you may derive our word Anger from Ango; which first sagnifies to strangle or suffocate; and then by Metaphor to torment, vex, grieve, or trouble, as well the mind as the body. And this reaches to both: it destroys the vital parts, and hinders the due operation and exer­cise of the intellectual facul­ties: it puts all out of frame and order. So the moral de­finition fits very well; which terms this troublesome grief [...], appetitum re­contristationis, an appetite (or desire) of interchangable sor­row, of continual distraction. Others would have Ira come [Page 152] from Ire, to go, because the angry man goes out of himself and runnes mad: but whither he will go, or where he will stop, God knows; for the de­vil drives him. If he be so mad to increase the flames, let him enjoy his fiery death alone. Let him live like the Salamander, and die like the Phaenix. Oh sweet revenge! I would be loath with my load of mutual wrath to increase the Funeral Peal. It is the sweetest revenge to forget an injury. If thou be angry in­deed, let not the person but his sin offend thee. Eph. 4.26 Be angry, and sin not. Be angry with sin, or else you sin in not being angry. Be angry with any thing but sin, and you cannot but sin in being angry. Be angry and [Page 153] sin not, be not angry and sin. Consider betimes what thou hast done or said in thy in­considerate wrath which with too late repentance thou mayst wish were now made void. Whosoever is angry with his bro­ther without a cause shall be in danger of judgement, Mat. 5.22. saith our Saviour. When the blood begins to revel in your veines, give this sudden check to that rebellious motion. I am strangely affected now; but I shall be of another minde by and by. Why should I deli­ver that in anger which can­not be unsaid when I am plea­sed? why should I do that now in these mad fits which will vex me when I am well in my wits? After a showre of wrath comes a flood of grief. [Page 154] Cannot Religion, and Piety, and Conscience obtaine that of me at this instant which a little time will enforce.

The best way to suppresse Anger is to compose and fold up the affections that they may never ravel out, that there may be no commotion, or at least no appearance of sedition, or disturbance in the irascible faculty. Not to be angry at all is the best chara­cter, the most fit similitude, the sweetest representation of the Deity. To overcome evil with good, to asswage the malice of a wicked heart, with the goodnesse of a tem­perate disposition, is the per­fection [Page 155] of Christian charity. To restrain anger is the part of a discreet man, a valiant cham­pion; but to give way to the violence of this wild passion is farre beneath the dignity of humane nature: I am loath to wrong the sensual creatures with a comparison. When we see a man set out with this brave demeanour of his parts; a flaming eye, cheeks somewhat pale, and sometimes red, a wry mouth, foaming lips, trem­bling joynts, a roaring voice, a wavering and inconstant ge­sture; this verily is the po­sture and complexion of Mars himself. He that knows how to use a looking glass may thus circumscribe every limb, and in spite of his Creation make himself a Beast. Nothing [Page 156] can represent a man so de­formed and ugly as this foule vice. The difference betwixt an inraged person and a fran­tick man, we finde to be no more than betwixt a short and a continual madnesse. Anger is a fit of frenzy, and that a perpetuity of rage; madnesse both: the difference is onely in the time. Both the same disease, though one more violent; or one an ague, the other a Feaver: which agree in quality: though not in the extent and power: and some­times one succeeds the other: an Ague multiplies into a Fea­ver; and anger begets madness, with the succession of many supernumerary evils. To con­clude: If thou finde it an hard task to appease a ra­ging [Page 157] spirit, think what the Saviour of the world suffered in thy behalf. What made him lay down his beloved soul for thee an injurious and de­spightful enemy? with what meekness did he suffer reproach, and bonds, and stripes, and wounds; a medley of cruel torments? and to close up his stomack, a disgraceful ig­nominious death? why doest thou boast of thy relation to the Head, if thou wilt not maintaine an entire friendship and union in the body? If thine enemie be not worthy of pardon, then surely he is not worth thine anger. Ne­vertheless, he deserves more from thee, than thou canst ex­pect from God. Thou hast felt the experience of a loving [Page 158] mercy, and wilt use nothing but extream severity. The least offence against the Ma­jesty of heaven, is more than all the injuries or injustice that the world can give; yet the infinite power is willing to look over, and passe by, ma­ny sinnes and transgressions, to renew and confirme his innu­merable mercies notwith­standing all affronts, ex­pecting onely repentance and future amendment.

It is some kinde of happi­nesse to be under restraint. The wide world affords many mis­chiefs, of which we are free in a prison. A man can hard­ly go abroad and preserve his [Page 159] own innocence; such is the contagious infection of sinne, that it spreads it self into our hearts through our eyes: we can scarce behold wickedness and be safely honest. Con­versation is full of danger; so that he which enjoys his liber­ty may want protection. Be­sides security, in imprisonment we have the benefit of con­templation. The soul can best enlarge her faculties when the body is a close prisoner. Then the Spirit will expatiate it selfe, when the flesh is confi­ned to a narrow roome. The Tower and the Fleet have pro­duced many works which shall prove their Authors fa­mous to posterity; who per­haps if they had not bin buried thus alive, had died in obscuri­tie: [Page 160] neither their persons, or their knowledge had been ever known. The light of grace shines forth in the darkest dungeon: and we may finde the way to heaven though wanting elbow-room. This use we may make of our worst miseries, and thus be contented with our discon­tents.

When wicked men are full of iniquity, then God makes empty the vials of his wrath; till then his own deare Saints must expect their deliverance. The Amorites are reprieved to the fourth generation; but judgement comes at last, and cannot be resisted: great pro­vocations leave us no roome [Page 161] for mercy. The voice of blood cries for revenge. Fruitful sins growe into punishment. When the harvest of folly is ripe, then our heavenly Fa­ther puts in the sickle of his ju­stice, that he may reap to him­self glory out of our corruptions. Those that use Cart-ropes to draw on vanity, deserve to be lashed with a cordy whip. When head and heart, when hands and feet, are imployed in continual mischiefe, when all interests are improved, and all means used to a sinful end, what can be expected but ut­ter confusion. A stiff-necked people must be hardly dealt with. If sin grow impudent, the judge will not be modest, or moderate in his anger. A brazen forehead may be blast­ed [Page 162] with iron lungs. When sinners never stop but at judg­ments, they must look to be well paid for their paines. It is fit that their wages should be answerable to their work. There is a day of Recompence wherein every man shall re­ceive his due. All accounts must be made even: they that have done much shall obtaine more, whether of good or evil.

The greatest mercies are best observed in the depth of misery. As a black foyle to a sparkling Diamond, such are our afflictions to the goodness of God. Though nothing can give addition to his glo­ry yet then his grace appears [Page 163] most graceful to us when set off by the shadow of our mise­ries. Continual prosperity is an oppression to the soul, where­as happinesse after suffering fills the heart with active joy. If we suffer alwayes, our pains cannot be long because life it self is short; but a good name which follows it, is everlasting. The advantage of a faire re­port after death will swallow up the judgements of our pre­sent time; the dark mist of our mournful condition cannot ob­scure the brightness of such a favour, if we have but faith e­nough to apprehend it. Gods mercy is more wonderful in deliverance then in preservati­on. Where there is more dan­ger there is more honour. The state of Redemption is better [Page 164] then that of innocency. Had Adam never fallen, Christ had never risen to our justification. We that were cut off by sin and death are made lively mo­numents of rich compassion. This is our wonder: this is the greatnesse of his good will, when we are delivered from the very jaws of destruction, then it plainly appears that his mercy is above all his works.

The Doctrine and discipline of the Church of England is such as was first established by ge­neral Councels and Synods, and afterwards confirmed by the Lawes of the State. Unity and uniformity; necessity and order, strength and beauty, are the in­gredients [Page 165] of our religion: and who would not love such a wholesom sweet composition. They that take a delight to broach new opinions, to intro­duce strange innovations, cannot wish well to the peace of our aged mother. It may be need­ful to repaire a breach, but 'tis neither wisdom, nor justice to pull down the frame of an ancient building, to make way for an alt [...]ation. God blesse us from such a reformation that must be advanced in the ruines of a wel-setled Govern­ment and constitution.

The Schismatick is a crea­ture that abhors the very name of a Counsel or a Synod. He [Page 166] cannot endure the weight of an obligation to any Law: for he thinks himself advanced in an higher degree of glory then weakly to submit to the tuition of an external govern­ment: He hath found out a nearer way to heaven then by following the doctrine of the Catholick Church. He makes no account of Canonical obe­dience, but as a quality only fit for them that weare the livery and mark of the Beast. Subordination to a Superiour power, whether civil or Ec­clesiastical sounds worse with him then chains or shakels, as destructive to the liberty of Saints, and the freedom of a Christian fellowship. In brief, he is such a piece of confusi­on that he knows not himself [Page 167] what he is, and we are ex­treamly perplexed to think what he may be when he comes in the way of our Meditations.

A true jeere is a jest in ear­nest: which is worse then down-right railing. A smiling cut-throat is the most injurious villain. To turn truth into a matter of mirth is to banish all favourable compassion, which is the bond of society and friendship. An abusive wit is but a sweet poyson, which though for the present it af­fect the taste, yet afterwards it infects the heart. A gene­rous spirit scorns to solace him­self with the disgrace of ano­ther. [Page 168] I will not triumph in the wounds of an enemy, nor insult upon the weaknesse of a friend. For the common frailty of our nature is such, that we may condemn our selves when we laugh at others.

He is neither wise nor good that will take any advantage of another by way of insulta­tion. Revenge may make a Giant of a dwarfe; and no man can be so miserable but one time or other he may have happinesse enough to require an injury. Every little Bee hath his sting; and the least of creatures hath malice e­nough to right it self. De­spair will put life into [Page 169] a very coward; and he that will suffer much will not suffer always. A fury that proceeds from disdain will ruine him that caused it. We may neg­lect an enemy with safety and honour; but to contemne him is both dangerous and damnable.

Nothing puts a man so much out of tune as discontent. A little mudd will defile a whole cistern of fair water. A fretting spleen like a mist that puts out heavens eye ob­scures the soul with cloudy fumes, and makes the minde so intent upon her misery that she never seeks for a redresse. Society cannot cure this dis­ease; for it disturbs all con­versation. [Page 170] A froward man offends all, and all offend him. But those discontents are most irksome which may not be re­vealed: for then the heart withers and consumes without hope of comfort. Good Coun­sel is restorative; the want of which drives men into a desperate ruine. Sorrow smo­thered up murders the patient, and like an undermining Pio­ner digs for destruction.

Too much freeness will make any man poore and miserable. An excessive bounty concludes in a loathsome defect. Mis­chief ever follows him that hath overmuch goodnesse. Necessity makes them vile [Page 171] whom fortune made liberal, and liberality made wretched. Prodigality must have fuel to maintain it: hence those that give most, covet most. A treasure strangely wasted must be supplied by extraordinary means; yet what pity is it that a Noble-nature should be forced to commit unworthy Acts? How have the best dis­positions been thus violated by an extravagant sweetnesse? Many men had held out bet­ter if they had not gone so fast at first. A sober pace never tires. Put a horse to his full speed in the beginning and he will faile before the journeys end: but a gentle rider pre­vents both the danger of stum­bling, and the trouble of ty­ring.

Conceit will make any thing unpleasant; we are built much upon opinion, which yet is but a sandy foundation. One man is all for mirth and musick, company and revels; another findes more pleasure in a re­tired privacy. Spending is a recreation to some, gain to o­thers. In all this variety of humours, the imagination breeds content and delight. Our own thoughts are the mould in which we cast the model of our happinesse. Our affections are minted by the inclination of the heart, and every passion beares the stamp of a conceited belief. But how miserable is our greatest glory that hath no o­ther [Page 173] consideration to make it valuable but our own perswa­sion? He that relies upon such a credit for his welfare may quickly drive himself in­to a fooles Paradice. But fancy of prosperity is adver­sity indeed; and to have no assurance of heaven but by a dream is to fall head-long in­to hell.

Nothing is so full of change and alteration as man. Proteus never knew so many various shapes. Our Passions turn us round in a perpetual circle of vicissitude. Love sometimes whirles about to an extremity of hatred. Many have killed those for whom they have [Page 174] been willing to die. What a slender thread holds together the patron and his favourite; and how small a matter can undo or break this union? How hardly are some men pleased in their Dyet, being constant in nothing but variety, and yet not satis­fied! Our Recreations do discover a giddinesse, and our most solemn actions speak something of mutabi­lity. Our apparel is the very emblem of inconstan­cy. A plain suit to day; rich robes to morrow. This is the imperfection of humanity. The weaknesse of our nature be­wrays it self in an unsteadfast motion. Other things alter not but according to their ob­ject. Constancy is a noble ver­tue; [Page 175] yet where vice is predo­minant it is no more then wil­ful folly. The way to perfe­ction is to change for the bet­ter. Therefore a firme reso­lution without discretion is most dangerous. His condi­tion is desperate that will not be perswaded to leave his sins.

There is no temptation or ad­versity which hath not a pecu­liar and proper medicine from some part of our Saviours cross. When the winde of Ambiti­on swells the sailes of my affe­ction, I will think how the head of the Church was de­jected in this exaltation: what reproach and scorne he endu­red from those that were not [Page 176] worthy to behold him: He that was Supream judge of all, would be content to undergo the death of a malefactor. When the sting of Envy plucks my heart, I will remember how sweetly and ingeniously he gave up himself in our be­half; what a favourable friend he was to his worst e­nemies. When I am solicited by Intemperance, how he was pleased with gall and vinegar, besides a full cup of his Fathers wrath. When tempted with some dishonest pleasure, how his whole life was void of all delight, what were the pains of his tormenting Agony and cruel passion. If I am moved with anger, how like the qui­et Lamb he never opened his mouth but for a prayer or bles­sing. [Page 177] Who can be angry with his neighbour, when he hears him pray for his ene­mies? Luk. 23.34. Father forgive them for they know not what they do. If poverty afflict my soul, or a covetous desire incline my heart to an unlawful gaine, then I will consider how the Lord himself, the Lord of the whole universe was content to be borne in a Stable, and die in the Field: a manger for his cradle, and for his death-bed the cross. In this manner I can please my self, and finde extraordinary comfort in the greatest Affli­ction of body or minde. I can boast of my infirmities, rejoyce in my adversity; be proud of my unhappiness, and blesse God that I am counted worthy to follow the footsteps of my [Page 178] dear Redeemer: and thankfully imbrace all the miseries both of life and death.

The entertainment of any sin whatsoever may work our fi­nal overthrow. That enemy is most dangerous which is least regarded: and many men are thus soothed to de­struction. They flatter them­selves in some little transgres­gression, yet beare a profest hatred to every grand impiety. Every man will professe an absolute enmity with those ap­parant vices, as these, Rapine, Murder, Adultery, Incest, and the like: but simple forni­cation is but a moderate use of pleasure, an harmlesse trick of [Page 179] youth, an easie escape, a sweet Trespass. Who can claim a propriety in goodness or vertue, that doth thus de­light himself with a spotless innocence? The Gnat a small creature flying into the eye of a Caldean Lion, which are of a clear wit, tender compositi­on, so torments that fierce and mighty Prince of Beasts with his little sting, that he is forced by the extreamity of paine with his own claws to deprive himself of sight and life: Thus the least offence is some­times great enough to drive the purest conscience of the strongest Christian into a wound and mortal despaire.

That man is a Prince indeed [Page 180] that knows how to command his tongue. Silence will pre­vent a mischief, which too much talk will induce and ag­gravate. A discourtesie may be smothered up and hush'd by a temperate forbearance of words; but we seldom see blowes given without a vol­loy of ill language. Super­fluity of speech like water sprinkled upon coales doth raise the fire of contention, which otherwise would go out of it self. Thus thinking to extinguish we inflame dis­cord, and our breath becomes the bellows to a fiery fewd. Thus when we endea­vour to coole, we increase the heate: and the mouth while it labours to blow out the sparks, stirres up the fuel of [Page 181] indignation till it flame about our eares. It is well said, that we hold our peace when we say nothing; for all war pro­ceeds from the jarring discord of an ill-tun'd voice. A long oration many times concludes in sorrow; and though it may be for our disadvantage to be silent, yet properly we cannot repent of what was never ut­tered. He that speaks much seldome speaks truth; which being plain or naked needes not the trim or habit of a large discourse: and he that lies often will at last discover himself by a contradiction. Whoever therefore would be wise or honest let him say little: for he that talks without com­passe can never mean fairly, nor handsomly deceive. An [Page 182] everlasting Speaker is a trouble­som fool that will still be saying something, because he under­stands nothing; and if some­times he hit upon the right, he is more beholding to his mi­strisse Fortune, then his own good skill or knowledge.

An industrious diligence ne­ver makes too much haste. Things of wonder are not accomplish­ed without long and serious consideration. We cannot catch at vertue with a leap; her Throne is fixt upon a rock, whither 'tis impossible to as­cend but by degrees. Blessings may fall into our mouths, but like the raine or dew by drops; and he that greedily gapes [Page 183] for a flood may be choaked with an inundation of curses. The way to heaven is up-hill; and he that would get thither by running, may tyre before he can come to the top of the mountain. God himself spent six days in creating the world; and do we think to obtaine everlasting happinesse in a moment? How many men have been undone in an eager pursuit of wealth and honour, while others by a sober thirst have sped better. It becomes eve­ry man to have some employ­ment; but he that is too quick and over-hasty in a businesse seems to be weary of it be­fore it be well begun, and will never stay to see it happily ended. He that makes light of the burden wil hardly arrive [Page 184] at the profit of an action.

As true it is as Truth it self, that the true servants of God shall never want. The Heavens shall rain down Manna, the hard rock shall melt into wa­ter, varieties shall come fly­ing upon the wings of the winde. We read of a dry cruse, that became a fountain of oyle, the Lions jaws that af­forded honey, the devouring Ravens that could spare meat, the fish with money in his mouth. All creatures contri­bute to the relief of those that abound in gr [...]ce. In the barren wildernesse David was satisfi­ed with marrow and fatnesse. Our Infant Saviour is safe in [Page 185] Egypt, a Nation ever hated of of the Iewes. St. Chrysostome found friends in Armenia, where he could expect no­thing but famine and death. Great Athanasius lived six years in a Cystern, and foure moneths in his fathers Tomb. The Divine Providence can preserve those that are appoin­ted to die. His hand is ne­ver too short to confer prote­ction and salvation. Thus in­deed the Protestants have a God for all purposes; one that never failes to provide for those that trust in him. Con­ceive the worst, and we can be but beaten out of Gods ground into heaven; where our immortal souls shall be free from all farther trouble, persecution, and distresse.

It is reported of Pliny the Elder, that while he was o­vercurious in searching out the cause of the continual burning of mount Aetna, the smoke that ensued from thence at last choaked him. Thus some men are overwhelmed with their own curiosity. To seek for a signe of Gods vi­sible proceedings in his unrevea­led decrees, is both vaine and dangerous. Why should I endeavour to know that which is impossible to be known? To comprehend that which is a­bove the reach of humanity? If I acknowledge a Deity I cannot deny him those secrets of State which constitute his [Page 187] essential power. Even earthly Kings have their secret resolves; and shall the King of heaven lie open to any mortal eye? God is a consuming fire. Heb. 12.29. He that comes too near to inform himself of his Nature and essence may be suffocated with the smoaky blasts of his fiery indignation. I will admire him in all his works but inquire the meaning of none, no farther then he is graciously pleased to render an account of his Acti­ons in his holy word. His Pub­lick declarations are full of sa­tisfaction, and he that seekes for other Reasons then are there set down is most unreasonable. All conceptions of the minde are either Relative, Negative, or Absolute, By the first we understand God no otherwise [Page 188] then he stands in relation to our selves, as a Father, a Gover­nour, a Creator, or the like, which cannot positively ex­press his Nature. By the Se­cond as when we say, he is not Mortall, not Materiall, not Finite, we understand not what he is, but what he is not. By the Third, we cannot appre­hend him at all. If such a con­ception should be granted, it must be such as whereby we shal be able to comprehend all those real Attributes which for­merly and properly belong to his divinity; which no natu­rall understanding can imbrace any otherwise then by reflecti­on in the Creatures. Lord, if it be so hard to understand what thou art by the Strength of Reason, how vaine is their [Page 189] wisdome that would prove there is no God at all, and be­cause they cannot know thy essential truth will disclaim all belief in thy power and exi­stence.